A Suspicious Affair (17 page)

“It’s not wintery at all,” Carlinn said, ignoring the cold wind that had his ears stinging during the ride home. “Why, it’s almost April. Before you know it, there will be flowers, and fishing.”

“Fishing? You really think Edelia will enjoy fishing? You did say you had a chance to meet her, didn’t you?”

“Puttering around the garden, then, or going for long rides to pick wildflowers. You know, spring in the countryside. What could be more lovely?”

“To Edelia? The assemblies and teas and card parties and musicales her letters are full of.”

“Yes, but she must like the country somewhat, mustn’t she?” It was time he found out, for he did not intend to spend another day of his time in Bath. London was entirely out of the question. “She does ride, I hope?”

Winifred wiped her nose and tried to recall if Edelia had ever mentioned a horse in her letters. There was that horse-faced Miss Kilborn who visited Bath last month and came away engaged to a dyspeptic viscount. “Bath is very hilly, you know. But yes, Edelia did take her turns in Rotten Row during her Season, I’m sure. You mustn’t expect a delicate female like my goddaughter to spend all day in the saddle the way you do though, out and about on the property from morning till night. I expect she wouldn’t even approve of Bettina’s neck-or-nothing style. Edelia wasn’t raised in the country, Cousin, so she is liable to have different interests. I don’t think she’ll come.”

Carlinn thought of the jackstraws who made up Miss Sherville’s court, that pasty-faced baronet with the rasping cough, the prosy cleric, or the jug-eared widower with four children. It did not take any great degree of vanity for him to say, “She’ll come.”

Chapter Seventeen

She came. Edelia Sherville was no countrywoman, but she was no fool, either. She was prepared to admire the bucolic beauties, from a distance, of course, and endure. This was her ticket back to London. Oh, how she missed the theater, the opera, the balls, and the shops. Oh, how she cursed her mother’s ill health that made their residence in Bath so necessary. Oh, how she regretted not accepting any of those offers that she’d turned down in her first Season, hoping to make a better match in her second.

“Oh, how lovely,” she enthused as Lord Kimbrough pointed out the view of the formal gardens from the glass doors in the library. Would she like to stroll there? How silly, but her slippers would be ruined. A ride about the estate later? She had in mind doing a watercolor of the ornamental lake, as seen through her bedroom window. A walk through the home woods searching for the first daffodils? She had promised her mother to practice the pianoforte faithfully.

Edelia was happy to accept Kimbrough’s offer of a drive into the village to visit the shops—until she saw the shops. All three of them, if you didn’t count the butcher. But she did enjoy sitting up beside the handsome earl, so expertly tooling his elegant rig down the roads. She’d have enjoyed it more, had there been anyone of distinction to notice their passing instead of the cows and their equally bovine keepers. And the inn, where she’d felt the need for a restorative cup of tea before the return trip, did not even boast a private parlor. Miss Sherville sipped her beverage quickly and downed her sweet roll in haste, before the blacksmith or some such took a seat next to her. Mama would be horrified.

The earl was pleased. “There, you should come out more. The fresh air does wonders for the appetite and puts roses in your cheeks.”

Miss Sherville spent the rest of the day in her room applying Denmark Lotion to her skin.

Cousin Winifred also spent a great deal of time in her chambers. Miss Austen’s new work having arrived on her difficult goddaughter’s heels, Winifred decided to have a relapse, leaving Edelia’s entertainment—and chaperonage—to the earl and his sister.

“La, I don’t know what Mama would say. Of course I realize manners are less strict in the country, but a girl can never be too careful.”

“Miss Sherville, I assure you, you are in no danger of being compromised.” Bludgeoned, maybe, not compromised. Perhaps the visit was not a good idea, Carlinn decided, coming at a time when he was too busy to devote himself to Miss Sherville’s amusement. Work on the streambed was continuing, as well as the improvements on the Denning properties. And the occasional chess game did seem to get Foster’s mind off the pain he was undoubtedly suffering.

The earl’s busy schedule and Cousin Winifred’s retreat left Edelia more and more in the company of Bettina, whom she considered a hoydenish schoolgirl in the throes of calf-love. Miss Sherville was having nothing of such Turkish treatment, especially when she could turn it to her own advantage.

“Your sister is left to her own devices too much, my lord,” she did not hesitate to inform her host, cornering him in his estate office. “A young girl like that needs to be more strictly supervised. Why, she should be preparing her wardrobe for her Season in London, not coming home with her skirts all muddied. I would be happy to lend my advice, if you agree Lady Bettina should pay a visit to Reading to have some new gowns made up.”

“Tina knows she has but to send for Madame Molyneaux if she needs anything, and besides, she’s not to make her come-out until next fall.” He shuffled some papers. She didn’t take the hint.

“The fall? Next year?” There went Miss Sherville’s hopes for an early wedding. “But never tell me you’ll present her at the Little Season? Why, she’s old enough to be presented right now.”

“I see no reason to rush young girls into these things. Besides, I’m sure some dashing young man will come sweep her off her feet the minute she shows her face at Almack’s, and I’m not ready to part with her yet.”

No one had swept
her
off her feet, Miss Sherville thought bitterly. Out of sheer spite she told him, “If you are not careful, she will form an entirely unsuitable connection here in the country and she will never make her curtsies at Almack’s at all.”

“Laughton? No, I am convinced she’ll outgrow her infatuation for the boy. Especially if I don’t come down the heavy and make him seem like forbidden fruit.” That was the duchess’s wisdom talking; Carlinn would have tossed his sister into the nearest carriage headed for the Antipodes else. “It’s only hero-worship, after all.”

“Lieutenant Laughton? The marquis is well enough, I suppose, now that he’s made a mark for himself. Not a feather to fly with, of course. But it’s the sister I was referring to. The Coach Widow. Absolutely ineligible.”

A pencil snapped in Kimbrough’s hands. “She is innocent,” was all he said.

“Of the murder, perhaps. But what of the rest? Why, I hear she’s not even in full mourning for her dead husband.”

“The situation was out of the ordinary.” Kimbrough uncomfortably found himself making excuses for the duchess. “And there is the baby to consider. He likes bright colors. Why, you should see him with Mr. Dimm’s waistcoat, and these gold buttons of mine were a big hit this…”

Miss Sherville’s painted-on eyebrows were raised almost to her hairline.

*

Edelia resumed her attack over luncheon, when Bettina announced she was going to visit at Denning Castle that afternoon. She had promised to read to Lieutenant Foster, she declared, challenging anyone to gainsay her.

“But perhaps Miss Sherville would rather meet some of the other neighbors, Tina.” Carlinn tried for diplomacy.

“Then perhaps you should take her, brother dear,” his sister shot back, still angry with him over his early words about Foster, even more furious that he and Cousin Winifred were foisting this porcelain princess off on her.

“Maybe we could all go call on Denning Castle tomorrow. You really must see it, Miss Sherville, for it truly is a singular bit of architectural history, with its restored battlements and—”

“No, thank you. I am sorry I must refuse to meet your neighbors, but it is not at all the thing, as I have mentioned. And you, Lady Bettina, would do well to heed my example. A girl cannot be too careful of her reputation if she wishes to have a successful Season. You should guard your name better, for a female is also known by her associates.”

Cousin Winifred, who had joined them for luncheon, stepped in before Tina could retort. “I am sure the duchess is unexceptional. My stars, you should see the wonderful work she’s doing with the local schools and helping the vicar see to the needy.”

“Schools? The needy? The woman is a pariah, a social outcast. Of course she has to bury herself here in the country, busy with good works.”

“Marisol is a true lady!” Bettina cried, throwing down her napkin.

Her brother quelled the incipient tantrum with a frown, then he turned his lowering look to Miss Sherville. In a quiet voice, he said, “Denning Castle has suffered enough from gossip and ill will. The Duchess has proved to be an asset to this community, and as such deserves our respect. Foster Laughton is lying wounded in his country’s service. But even if she were less of a lady, and her brother a cad, Noel Pendenning is still my ward, requiring my attention to his welfare. Therefore my family”—his eyes moved first to Bettina, then to Cousin Winifred, before coming to rest on Edelia, who was patting her mouth with a serviette—“shall all visit Denning Castle tomorrow, with the duchess’s permission, of course. You, Miss Sherville, are welcome to accompany us.”

Edelia stalled, folding the napkin into tidy corners. Kimbrough was furious, she could tell, and that little minx Bettina was smirking. Even her own godmother had turned against her. If she didn’t pay that call on Denning Castle, she may as well pack her bags and return to Bath. Instead she smiled, showing all her perfect teeth. “La, I do keep forgetting that country standards are not so exacting. I can see you are all won over to poor Marisol’s side. Oh, didn’t I tell you we were acquainted from our first Season together? Lovely girl. I really must pay my respects now that I am in the vicinity, mustn’t I?”

*

“What’s a dog doing here?” Edelia hissed into the ear of the lady next to her on the sofa. All those suits of armor, battle-axes, and maces were off-putting enough, but a big hairy creature that was crippled besides? Edelia’s idea of a house dog was more that shaggy little thing dancing around in search of crumbs, not Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades. She sat rigid on her side of the couch, afraid of moving lest she draw the beast’s attention to herself.

“What’s that?” Miss Laughton asked loudly enough that she—and everyone else—could hear. “What about the dog?”

Lord Kimbrough leaned over. “That’s just Sal. She minds the baby. She won’t bother you unless you threaten Nolly.”

That brought to mind another source of Miss Sherville’s discomfort. Babies were to be brought forth, admired, then dismissed. What was this one doing here, at tea? She whispered to the earl, “Why is it not in the nursery?”

“Nolly? Oh, he’s our local entertainment, aren’t you, my lad?”

The earl plucked the infant out of its mother’s arms while Bettina wailed, “Unfair! It was my turn!”

Edelia couldn’t believe her eyes; they were nearly fighting over possession of that damp, squirmy article. If that weren’t bad enough, on top of the dog, Kimbrough was dangling the child in front of her rose-colored muslin gown, which must already be covered in dog hair.

“Would you like to hold him?” the earl was offering, as if he held the Crown Jewels instead of a grubby brat.

“No. No, thank you.” Cute? Edelia had never seen anything less appealing, unless it was the sight of that Lieutenant Laughton, recumbent on the opposite sofa. Edelia couldn’t bear to look at him, with his bare patches of raw, red flesh. The least they could do for company was cover him up in more than the bandages and dressing gown he now wore. Miss Sherville turned her eyes away.

Unfortunately they landed on an unprepossessing little man in a red waistcoat and tight-fitting unmentionables. When Kimbrough caught her direction, he explained that Mr. Dimm was with Bow Street, but he was here today to see his son, who had come home from the army with the lieutenant. His son-in-law, married to Lady Marisol’s maid, had also been on the hospital ship carrying the wounded home from the Peninsula. Ned Turner was abovestairs now. Another of Dimm’s sons, Kimbrough went on with a straight face and a twinkle in his eyes Edelia was too offended to see, was the fellow in the corner with the pistol in his pocket.

Edelia needed all of her upbringing to stifle the scream in her throat. How could Marisol have permitted herself to sink so low, she wondered, turning her parlor into a nursery, a sickroom, a kennel, a thieves’ den? Murder was one thing, but such a lapse of proper conduct was quite beyond the pale. And she was sadly off her looks, Edelia was gratified to see, positively blowzy. To think she, Edelia Sherville, had been jealous of the twit for capturing Arvid Pendenning in her first Season.

At least the dowager duchess was there representing good ton, Edelia was relieved to see, and in full mourning, too. Her Grace was acquainted with Miss Sherville’s mama and many of the other Bath biddies, so there was news to relate and messages to convey. Edelia could politely ignore the rest of the room’s occupants, instead of continuing her previous impolite disdain.

Soon the gathering had divided into other smaller groups. Aunt Tess and Cousin Winifred were vying with the tea tray for Mr. Dimm’s attention; Foster and Bettina were engrossed in a book whose title neither of them knew or cared. Rebecca the nursemaid came for the now-sleepy baby, and left accompanied by the big dog and the bodyguard.

Lord Kimbrough asked Marisol to walk apart with him, to discuss a new tenant for one of the vacant cottages, he told the others. When they were at the other end of the room, ostensibly admiring an ancient tapestry on the wall, he apologized for inflicting Miss Sherville on her and her family.

“Think nothing of it, my lord. I assure you, I am more than familiar with Edelia’s kind. Be happy the Hambleys did not drop in, children and all. Miss Sherville might never have recovered.” She thought he muttered “Too bad,” but must have misunderstood. “I suspect she is simply out of her element here. My, ah, casual style is not what she is used to, in Bath or in London.”

“About London, Duchess. I’m sorry to have to inform you that you’ll have to change your plans about London.”

“My plans? I have none that I know of.”

He ignored her protests, concentrating on the difficult news he had to impart. “According to Miss Sherville, and I have no reason to doubt she is
au courant
with the current tittle-tattle, word about your lack of mourning is common knowledge, along with tales of Arvid’s indiscretions.” He stepped closer to the tapestry, examining a section depicting blackamoors leading tigers on leashes. “None of the mess has been forgotten. You will not be received. I was informed by Lady Sherville herself that I was tolerated only because I was a man and could be forgiven my part in the imbroglio. The rumor mill will not deal as kindly with you.”

Marisol shook her head, dislodging a curl from its ribbon. “You were tolerated, my lord, because you are a wealthy bachelor peer. I am a wealthy widowed duchess. I would be accepted eventually by all but the highest sticklers, unless they had a son or brother to settle, but thank you for your concern. And I must remember to thank Miss Sherville for hers,” she added dryly. “However, I have no intention of putting my luck to the test. I do not plan to go to London anytime soon.”

“Of course you do. It’s your way of life,” he insisted.

“What, leave Nolly and my responsibilities here for the pleasures of Town?”

“That’s what every other woman would do.” It was certainly what Edelia Sherville would do, and they both knew it.

“Thank you, my lord, for the thought. And I am sure Edelia will be relieved that you consider a true lady most at home in London. But I can only repeat,
this
is my home. I am not Edelia Sherville.”