A Marquess, a Miss and a Mystery Page 9

  ‘I can see there is something,’ Lady Elizabeth persisted. And Horatia reminded herself that Lord Devizes wanted everyone to think he was intent on seducing her, so that nobody would suspect he could have any other motive for wanting to spend so much time with her.

  Although, it would be very hard to tell Lady Elizabeth an outright lie.

  To stall for time while she considered what she could say that would satisfy both Lord Devizes and Lady Elizabeth, as well as her conscience, she picked up her comb.

  ‘How...how has your mother been this afternoon?’

  Lady Elizabeth let out a crow of laughter. ‘I do believe you are trying to change the subject. Oh, how glad I am that I persuaded you to come here with me,’ she continued as Horatia turned to reach for her fresh gown. ‘I feared I was going to find it excruciatingly uncomfortable, what with Mama being so disappointed with me over failing to catch Theakstone in the matrimonial net. But I never dreamed you would entertain me so much, let alone make me laugh out loud. We haven’t,’ she said, sobering considerably, ‘had much to even smile about of late.’

  ‘No,’ said Horatia thoughtfully, stepping into her second-best evening gown. Sometimes it was hard to remember that the Dowager Lady Tewkesbury’s bad temper could well stem from the trials she was having to endure, rather than from innate nastiness. Both she and Lady Elizabeth dressed so well, and moved with such assurance in society, that it was easy to overlook the fact that they’d been living in very reduced circumstances since the death of Lord Tewkesbury. She really ought to be more understanding when Lady Elizabeth’s mother was snappish with her, more forgiving when she was irritable for no apparent reason.

  ‘But to answer your question,’ said Lady Elizabeth pointedly, ‘Mama has been lying down in her room all afternoon, on the advice of Theakstone’s own physician, apparently. According to that aunt of Miss Underwood’s, she was starting to look pulled and he said she should go and rest to prevent her from developing one of her megrims. She’d already gone when I returned to that ghastly yellow room, so I have had rather a pleasant time chatting with, of all people, Miss Underwood. She seems to have forgotten we were rivals for Theakstone’s favours and is treating me like a bosom bow.’

  ‘Well, I expect she feels in need of a friendly face,’ said Horatia, through a mouth full of hairpins, as she twisted the bulk of her hair into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, according to Lord Devizes,’ she said, stabbing pins ruthlessly into her hair to keep it in place, ‘who heard it from his sisters—’ stab ‘—or their governesses—’ stab, stab ‘—I’m not completely sure, it sounds as if a lot of people are trying to, um, get close to the Duke by currying favour with, well...’ To be truthful, he’d said that the favour-currying was going on via the children in the nursery. But if people would go to those lengths, then there were probably other ways they would try to use those nearest the Duke. Especially his bride-to-be.

  ‘Yes, she told me much the same,’ said Lady Elizabeth, promptly confirming Horatia’s conjecture. ‘Who would want to marry a duke, eh?’

  ‘There,’ said Horatia, turning her head from side to side to make sure all was as neat as she could make it. ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Amazing,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘It always takes me a good half an hour and the assistance of Connie to achieve anything.’

  ‘Well,’ said Horatia, glancing between their two outfits, ‘you are attempting to create a wholly different impression from me, are you not? You look absolutely stunning, whereas all I am attempting is to look clean and neat.’

  ‘Pfft,’ said Lady Elizabeth with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘If you spent as long as I do primping and preening, you would be far prettier than I.’

  ‘What?’ Horatia shot her a suspicious glance. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Lady Elizabeth, sliding off the bed and coming to stand beside her in front of the dressing table mirror. ‘You have such thick, lustrous hair, in comparison with mine which is all...wispy, bland and dull.’

  ‘It’s blonde,’ Horatia protested.

  ‘But I have to wield the curling tongs twice a day to get curls like these,’ she said enviously, tweaking at a couple of wisps that had escaped the pins already and were curling about Horatia’s ears. ‘And if you didn’t hide your eyes behind glasses, single men with poetical aspirations would write odes to them.’

  ‘Nonsense!’

  ‘No such thing. They have a...well, I don’t know how to describe it, not being of a poetical turn of mind, but the colour is unusual, neither brown nor grey, and they are a lovely shape, and you have eyelashes that would be the envy of most women, if you only fluttered them about a bit more.’

  On the contrary, if she were ever foolish enough to attempt to flutter her eyelashes, people would just think she had got something in her eye.

  Besides, she’d already decided she was not going to go about looking as though she was desperate to gain some man’s attention. She’d had enough of that during her Season. Because what invariably happened when she had drawn some man to her side, by ‘making the most of herself’, as Aunt Matilda had put it, was that they recoiled from the person they pretty soon discovered she really was. It was less painful, she’d discovered, to deliberately repel them with outer trappings such as drab clothes and severe hairstyles and the ugliest glasses she could find in the first place.

  ‘I am not cut out to be fluttery,’ she said stoically, picking up her spectacles and hooking them over her ears. Which also anchored those few stray curls out of sight.

  ‘But then what did put the sparkle in your eyes?’

  Horatia sighed. Lady Elizabeth was not going to give up. But by now, Horatia had formed an answer that would satisfy everyone concerned.

  ‘Believe it or not, I think it must have been spending so much time talking about my brother. It was a real comfort, sharing memories with someone who also knew him very well.’ And who was, now she’d given him a nudge, as determined to avenge his death as she was.

  ‘Hmmm.’ Lady Elizabeth pursed her lips. ‘If that is all you are willing to tell me...’

  ‘It is. For now,’ she added, because her friend was bright enough to perceive that Horatia was holding something back.

  ‘Then I shall let the matter drop. For now. Since if we do not leave this room straight away, we really will be late down for dinner.’

  * * *

  There were about thirty people already standing in the Rubens room, where everyone gathered before dinner, by the time she and Lady Elizabeth arrived. If it had been left to her, Horatia would have sidled in and found a chair in a corner out of the way. But Lady Elizabeth had other ideas. Her father might have squandered the family fortune, but he had been a marquess and she was not about to let anyone forget it. Head up, Horatia’s arm firmly under her own, Lady Elizabeth swept into the very centre of the room and gazed about her as though defying anyone to question her right to be exactly where she was.

  It wasn’t long before Miss Underwood herself came over, a welcoming smile on her face.

  ‘Good evening. How are you both? I am glad to see your mother seems to be somewhat better after Dr Cochrane took her in hand earlier on. And, um...’ she turned to Horatia ‘...I am so grateful to you for taking the children outside in spite of...that is, Livvy said her Uncle Nick found a lovely spot for them to play in safely and that the promise of a treasure hunt, in due course, has given them something to look forward to.’

  ‘Uncle Nick?’ Horatia wondered how Lord Devizes would feel about Livvy calling him that.

  At this point, the Duke appeared at her side. Although, from what she’d observed so far, he never let Miss Underwood get very far away.

  ‘Uncle Nick,’ Lady Elizabeth echoed, her eyebrows shooting up.

  The Duke’s drew down.

 
‘Well, apparently, so many of the other children in the nursery called him that,’ said Miss Underwood, ‘that she asked if he was her uncle, too, and, of course, he is, so...’ At this point, the look on the Duke’s face caused even Miss Underwood to quail. Even though he was glaring over her shoulder at somebody who was approaching. Someone who Horatia could tell, without even looking, must be Lord Devizes. For the Duke never glared at anyone else in quite the same way.

  ‘I am sure His Grace suspects me of having some nefarious reason for encouraging his child to look upon me as her favourite uncle,’ came the voice of Lord Devizes, at her elbow.

  ‘Nothing of the sort,’ put in Miss Underwood hastily. ‘It was very good of you to give up your afternoon to entertain the children so marvellously. And to be willing to organise a treasure hunt as well. You must let me know,’ she continued, in a rather desperate manner as the two brothers stood there eyeing each other like combatants in a prize ring, ‘if there is anything you need.’

  ‘Prizes,’ said Horatia, wishing Lord Devizes wouldn’t be quite so antagonistic. ‘We thought that we could have small prizes for solving each clue, probably about five or six of them, and then a grand prize at the end. We had hoped that we could borrow a couple of footmen and send them to the nearest village in the morning to raid the sweet shops. Oh, that is, if you have one? A sweet shop, that is, not a footman. I know you have dozens of those.’ She felt her cheeks heat as she blurted out the last, stupid statement which must have made her sound like a real...idiot.

  ‘We do,’ said Miss Underwood kindly. ‘What a good idea.’

  The Duke took a breath as though about to make an objection. But at a look from Miss Underwood, he kept whatever he’d been about to say to himself.

  ‘And then, of course,’ Lord Devizes slipped in smoothly, ‘on the day of the treasure hunt, we will need a footman at each stage to give out those prizes and present the teams with the next clue.’

  The Duke looked as if the last thing he wished was to allow his half-brother to monopolise five or six of his footmen.

  So it was into an atmosphere of tense silence that one of Lord Devizes’s sisters came over, her husband, Lord Twickenham, on her arm.

  ‘Well, well,’ she said with an acid smile. ‘Quite the family gathering.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Underwood. ‘Lord Devizes is organising a treasure hunt for his nephews and nieces. And the other visiting children, of course.’

  ‘And His Grace’s little...’

  There was a pause, during which Horatia held her breath as Lady Twickenham appeared to consider how to refer to the Duke’s illegitimate child.

  ‘Daughter,’ she finally said, to Horatia’s relief. ‘Though I must say I find it rather odd behaviour for you, Nick,’ she said, swatting Lord Devizes on his arm with her fan, ‘to get involved in this sort of caper. Not your style, I wouldn’t have thought.’

  ‘I have my reasons,’ he said with an enigmatic smile.

  The Duke, Miss Underwood and Lady Elizabeth all looked from Lord Devizes to Horatia and back again in the manner of persons putting two and two together.

  ‘Do tell,’ said Lady Twickenham coquettishly, missing the knowing looks flitting between the others, since she was looking only at her brother.

  ‘The reasons are mine,’ he reminded her. ‘And if I told you, they would become common property.’

  ‘Oh, but you are accusing me of being a gossip, you naughty boy,’ she cried, rapping him again. Horatia was beginning to wonder how any man could put up with a woman who behaved as though she was a cross between a little girl and a pugilist. But most men, from what she’d observed in her short foray into society, appeared to find such behaviour fascinating.

  Her fingers curled round her own fan. What would happen if she started swatting men with it and calling them naughty boys? She’d probably either get prosecuted for common assault, or carted off to one of those asylums for the feeble-minded. Which was what such behaviour warranted.

  ‘But, anyway,’ Lady Twickenham said, ‘it will prove a most onerous task to lay a trail about the house, since you can hardly remember much about the place, I shouldn’t have thought. Why, you were a very small boy when the rightful heir—’ she shot a malicious look at the Duke from under her artificially blackened eyelashes ‘—returned and had us all evicted.’

  It felt as if a frosty wind had just swirled round the little group.

  ‘He did nothing of the sort,’ said Miss Underwood indignantly, stepping closer to the Duke’s side and taking his arm. ‘He was just a boy. He—’

  ‘I have no need for you to fight my battles for me, my love,’ said the Duke, patting her hand. ‘Lord Devizes,’ he said, turning to his half-brother, ‘whatever your motives, I am grateful to you for lending what aid you can to this week’s activities. And, Lady Twickenham,’ he said in a rather cooler tone, ‘it is pointless to bear a grudge against me for what our father did. We all, as children, suffered from his eccentric behaviour. And it is high time we put it behind us. Now that we are adults.’

  With a curt nod, he turned and walked away, towing Miss Underwood along with him.

  ‘Well!’ Lady Twickenham stared at his back, an indignant expression on her face. She would have said more had not the butler chosen that moment to fling open the double doors at the end of the room and announce that dinner was served.

  ‘Blast it,’ whispered Lady Elizabeth into Horatia’s ear. ‘That was just getting interesting.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Nick relaxed his jaw so that nobody would see how close he was to gritting his teeth. The patronising b—well, no, his half-brother wasn’t illegitimate, that was the trouble. But if he could prove the man was a traitor, and unfit to be a duke, well, that was another matter.

  Which would require the help of Herbert’s sister, who was inching away from him. That wouldn’t do.

  ‘Since we are already standing together,’ he said, linking his arm through hers while she was still within reach, ‘we may as well stroll in together, and sit next to one another.’

  Any other woman would have either taken offence at his casual attitude, or simpered and giggled and tried to make out he’d paid them a huge compliment. Horatia, of course, did neither. She just gave him a direct, rather considering look, before nodding and uttering a gruff, ‘Very well.’ He had a feeling she would have behaved exactly the same even if she didn’t know he was trying to make everyone believe he was pursuing her.

  The current Duke and his intended bride led the way into the dining room and took their seats at the head of the table together, apparently so absorbed in each other that they failed to notice how their guests were behaving. Nick, however, had no intention of taking place in the melee that had broken out in their wake, as the more socially ambitious fought for the prime places, elbowing the weaker, less thrusting guests aside. His own sister, Lady Twickenham, even stuck out her little foot just as Mrs Turnbull, one of Miss Underwood’s married cousins, was about to take the seat she’d clearly set her sights on.

  ‘I wasn’t sure I believed what you said earlier about people being so ambitious they would even use their children,’ she said, ‘but this...’ Her eyes rounded in appalled fascination as Mrs Turnbull stumbled into the arms of her bucolic husband.

  ‘It will only get worse as the week progresses,’ he murmured into Horatia’s ear.

  ‘Why do they not put out place names at the table, or organise things more efficiently?’ said Horatia, gazing about her with disapproval as they approached the table in a more leisurely fashion. ‘Surely it would stop all this...’ She waved her free hand at the spectacle of lords and ladies fighting to establish their precedence and succeeding only in losing their dignity.

  ‘The wealthier, more ambitious ones would only bribe the servants to change them round if they didn’t like the places they’d been assigned,’ he said. ‘But don’t
let all this distract you from our aim tonight.’

  ‘Which is?’ She perked up immediately, like a terrier catching sight of a rat.

  ‘To find out as much as we can about the Duke’s household. To find out who is up to their neck in treason,’ he reminded her grimly. ‘Now look,’ he continued, as she nodded and stiffened her spine. ‘Now that the more sought-after places at each end of the table have gone, nobody will raise an eyebrow at our taking our own seats next to a man such as Perceval, the Duke’s secretary. If any man knows what is going on under this roof, then it is him. So I am going to sit you next to him, so that you can pump him for information.’

  Her face fell. ‘I...I don’t know how to do that. I... Herbert must have told you I am useless in social situations, never mind actually attempting to wheedle secrets out of anyone, I...’

  ‘Calm down,’ he said, patting her hand where her fingers were clutching at his sleeve. ‘The first thing you need to know about men is that they love to talk about themselves.’

  She nodded, her face clearing somewhat, as if this was something she already knew.

  ‘Flatter him on getting this important job with such a high-ranking man. Say how wonderful he must be to be so much in the Duke’s trust, that sort of thing. It will be easy.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ she said, looking anxious again. ‘He will smell a rat. Everyone knows I don’t flatter men. I mostly tell them they are idiots.’

  ‘Well, then, he will be even more flattered if you tell him that you find him to be the exception to the race of men you so despise.’

  ‘It will be a lie! I cannot lie to save my life!’

  ‘I think you could do just about anything you set your mind to, for Herbert.’

  She frowned. ‘Do you really believe that or are you just saying it to give me some confidence?’

  He frowned back at her, although he felt like chuckling. ‘It makes no difference,’ he said sternly. ‘You must do it. But, if it helps, let me remind you that you won’t be telling a complete lie. You are interested in Perceval, to the extent of wanting to find out what he knows about what may be going on in this household.’