The Great Christmas Ball (21 page)

“I suggest you use Cosgrave’s deficiencies as a bat to beat York and his cronies over the head and appoint your own man,” Costain said.

“My thinking exactly. I should prefer a younger gentleman. There’s no fool like an old fool, when all’s said and done.”

Costain ignored that speculative look. “As the Leonards’ demise was a master of simple homicide, we ought to call in Bow Street,” he said.

“Yes, by God. We’ll let Townsend handle the disposal of the bodies in the usual way. I shall tip him the clue that he must handle the nominal investigation personally.” He turned to an aide and asked him to send for the top Bow Street officer.

They then discussed means of rounding up the other members of the gang until Townsend arrived and had a brief talk with Castlereagh. Townsend arranged the removal of the bodies.

After he left, Costain said, “A Mademoiselle Dutroit, a Bond Street milliner, is involved, and probably a modiste, Madame Marchand. You might want to watch their shops for the next few days. I expect they are only go-betweens.”

“I see you have been busy!” Castlereagh said approvingly.

“I had help. Young Lyman has been doing some legwork for me. An excellent chap, and not so hotheaded as you feared. He is interested in a position at the Horse Guards, by the bye.”

“I’ll speak to him. As I said, we need younger men.” He set down his glass and rose. “I think that is about it for this evening. A fine job, Costain. Are you returning to the ball?”

“I shall remain here awhile, to have a look around the house. Burack tells me there are some documents in Leonard’s office.”

Castlereagh turned to Burack. “Would you mind taking them down to the Horse Guards tonight? Such things should never leave the premises. Cosgrave!” He shook his head.

Burack went to gather up the documents, and Castlereagh said to Costain, “Drop by my office tomorrow morning and we shall discuss Cosgrave’s replacement. Are you interested in the job yourself? I know you planned to return to Spain. Anyone with good eyesight and a steady hand can aim a gun.”

“There is a little more to it than that, milord.”

“Of course there is. I did not mean to disparage our excellent soldiers. My meaning is that you would be of more use here. Think about it, lad.” He patted Costain’s shoulder and left.

Burack came hurrying out of the study and rushed after Castlereagh, to enlarge upon his own part in the evening, and hint for an increase in salary.

As soon as he was gone, Costain darted into the room across the hall. Cathy sat in the light of one flickering candle, Gordon’s head in her lap. She looked tired and frightened. He wanted to take her into his arms. He hurried to her side and just patted her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She smiled trustingly. “Thank you for keeping us out of it, Costain. I daresay we would have had to appear in court and all sorts of unpleasant things if Castlereagh had known we were here. Has he left?”

“For the moment, but Townsend will be returning.”

“Gordon is coming to now, but he is very confused. I should like to take him home. He ought to be in bed.”

“I’ll ask my groom to help get him to the carriage.”

While this was going forth, the dog reappeared, sniffing about the floor and whining piteously. Gordon opened his eyes. “Oh, Lord, not that curst mutt again!” he said, then closed his eyes again.

“Perhaps May senses that something untoward has happened to her mistress,” Cathy said, gazing sadly at the dog. “Poor little thing. Who will look after her?” The dog came and sat at her ankles, gazing at her with moist brown eyes. Cathy lifted her up and stroked her. “We cannot leave her here alone.”

“She is not alone,” Costain said. “There are servants in the house.”

“I wish I could take her home, but Mama would have a fit.”

“I’ll take her,” Costain said, and put the dog under his arm, where it yelped its gratitude. In the carriage it settled peacefully at Costain’s feet.

Gordon revived during the drive home and insisted on Costain’s coming in to hear his story, and to relate all that had happened while he was unconscious. John Groom was given the job of watching the dog. Cathy ordered coffee and sandwiches, and they ate ravenously while Costain explained the night’s proceedings.

It was this homey sight that greeted Lady Lyman’s eyes when she returned from the ball. The three of them looked as guilty as sinners when she entered. What was going on here? “I made sure you would be in bed, Cathy,” she exclaimed. “Did you not have a fit of megrims at the ball?”

“I am feeling better now, Mama.”

“We all decided that what ailed us was hunger, so we had some sandwiches and coffee made,” Gordon said. “Don’t let us keep you, Mama. You look burnt to the socket.”

“I am not used to these late nights. You look peaked yourself, Gordon. Don’t stay up too late.”

Gordon wondered why Costain accompanied Lady Lyman to the staircase and stayed a full five minutes talking to her. For her part, Lady Lyman could scarcely believe her luck. An invitation to Northland Abbey for the whole family for Christmas! It could be no less than a formal betrothal Costain had in mind. Rag-mannered of him to have stayed so late—it was two-thirty! Odd, too, that Cathy was still up and about when she had retired from the ball with a headache.

Lady Lyman was pretty sure Gordon had been drunk. He looked exceedingly pale. The bandage Costain was wearing on his hand suggested he had been in some sort of brawl. Perhaps Costain had beaten up Burack for having taken Cathy out. Such a hotheaded husband would be a handful for Cathy to manage, but he would soon be rushing back to Spain, so that would be all right.

In the saloon, Gordon said to his sister, “Costain is bamming Mama with some story to turn her up sweet.”

When Costain returned to the saloon, Gordon said, “Did you tell Castlereagh about my part in all this?”

“I could not think you wanted him to know you had been overpowered by Leonard,” Costain explained. “As to the rest, he is aware of your involvement. It was you who put us on to Dutroit and Marchand. It will take a few days to round up all their cohorts.”

“What about Cosgrave? He was certainly making up to Mrs. Leonard.”

“Indeed he was, but that is all he was doing. He’ll be dismissed, of course, but no charges will be laid. Helena used her liaison with Cosgrave to gain her husband a position at the Horse Guards—for what purpose you may imagine. We will never know for certain now, but I imagine she convinced Harold that she would leave him if he could not provide more of the niceties of life. He could not do it honestly; no doubt she suggested how he could do it dishonestly.”

Gordon nodded. “If I had caught a glimpse of his stubby fingers sooner, I could have solved the case in a minute. I think you were wrong to keep me away from the office, Costain. I knew as soon as he handed me the sherry that he was our man. What I did not think was that he would recognize me in a shot, from breaking into our office here.”

“Mrs. Leonard had spotted you lurking about the house, too,” Costain said. “You must be more careful another time.”

“It won’t happen again. I wonder what brought her rushing home before the ball was half over.”

“There was a note in her purse from Harold, telling her that he had you under sedation at the house, asking what he should do. I daresay she saw Burack and Cathy and myself rushing away from the ball, and decided she’d best get home to take charge.”

“How does it come you never suspected Mr. Leonard, Costain?” Cathy asked.

“I thought he was too timid to tackle such a daring thing. I am certain he hated every minute of it. He was a pattern-card of conscientiousness at work, always hounding everyone to follow the rules. And to discover at the end that his wife despised him.” He shook his head and gave a quiet
tsk.
“At least he never learned she was carrying on with Cosgrave.”

“About my joining the staff at the Horse Guards, Costain,” Gordon said. “You mentioned something about another time. With Leonard gone, they’ll need a replacement. Who do you think will take Cosgrave’s spot? I’ll see if Mama knows him, and can put in a word for me.”

Costain cleared his throat modestly. “Actually, Castlereagh has suggested that I take over from Cosgrave.”

Gordon’s exclamations of delight went unheard by Cathy. She was looking at Costain with a smile trembling on her lips. “Then you would not be returning to Spain?” she asked.

“He has half convinced me I could be of more use here.”

“Only half?” Gordon asked in astonishment, “Why, it would be great fun, Costain. You and me and Burack—what a team!”

“I am giving the matter my serious consideration. There are a few points to clarify first.”

“What does it hinge on?” Gordon asked at once.

Costain’s dark eyes turned to Cathy. “On a lady,” he said.

Gordon’s youthful visage assumed a sneer. “You are ill-advised to chart your course on the whim of a lady. I daresay Miss Stanfield never even noticed I was missing.”

“On the contrary, she was very much put out by your cavalier treatment at the ball. You must apologize nicely when you meet her at Northland at Christmas.”

“Eh? What the devil are you talking about? I shall not be—I say, are you inviting me to Northland?”

“Your mama was kind enough to accept an invitation on behalf of the family.” He gazed at Cathy, watching the light flush that bloomed in her cheeks and the shy smile that lit her eyes.

“And Miss Stanfield is going, you say?” Gordon said.

Costain cast an impatient glance at this nuisance of a boy. “How else can I hope to gain a few moments privacy with your sister?” he replied with a meaningful look.

“Good Lord! You don’t mean Cathy is the lady you were talking about?”

“Perhaps if you wrote Miss Stanfield a nice note of apology, Gordon—
now,”
Costain suggested.

“By Jove, I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”

“Never leave till tomorrow what can be done today,” Costain urged.

“It is tomorrow. I mean to say, it’s after two. I can hardly deliver a note at three o’clock in the morning.”

“You could write it.”

“Yes, but—”

Costain rose and took Gordon by the elbow to usher him from the room. “Good night, Gordon. Remember who is now in charge of hiring at the Horse Guards.”

“She hasn’t said yes, Costain.” On that parting shot, Gordon finally strode from the room.

Costain returned and took up the seat beside Cathy on the sofa. “Between dogs and brothers and mamas, it is hard to find a moment’s privacy.”

“Will you keep the dog?” Cathy asked, though she did not really care much at that point.

“That, too, depends on a lady’s answer,” he said, taking her hand and stroking it. “I am not above bribery, you see. A thoroughly bad article.”

“I think you are very nice.”

“Nice?
Nice!
Good God, what have I done to deserve such lukewarm praise?”

“And brave,” she added.

His arm moved around her shoulder and tugged her closer. “That is better. Pray, continue.”

“Well, you are a baron.”

“Run dry so soon, have we? To praise a man’s title suggests he is no better than a turnip. The best part of him is buried. I am also trustworthy.”

“You should not have brought that letter to me for translation.”

“Let us call it independent. Also honest.” He flicked a curl that hung loose at her temple.

“You lied about that letter, and the suicide-murder.”

He gave a little yank at her curl. “We call that inventive. My poaching on Burack’s date is harder to whitewash.”

“Seizing an opportunity?” she suggested helpfully.

“Wide awake on all suits. My practicing nepotism on Gordon’s behalf I shall call family loyalty. And speaking of family—” He drew her into his arms.

Her eyes were wide and bright with anticipation. “Yes, Costain?” she asked in a breathless voice.

“I am flattered at your eagerness, but I haven’t asked you yet!”

“We cannot ascribe undue haste to you, in any case.”

His smile firmed to sincerity. When he spoke, the bantering tone had changed to something akin to shyness. “Nor even much courage, in such delicate matters as this, but whatever my faults, I love you very much. I shall make you a good husband, Cathy, if you’ll have me. Will you?”

She gazed a moment at this handsome, dashing lord, hardly able to believe that he could love her, but his glowing eyes assured her that he did. “Yes, I will,” she said simply, and was pulled ruthlessly into his arms for a kiss that left her giddy. His hands stroked her back, and moved down to span her waist, crushing her against his chest while his lips firmed to passion.

She knew her life had changed irrevocably. No more sitting in the study, waiting for the occasional tap at the door. No more vicarious romance from gothic novels and translating other people’s billets-doux. No dull Christmas, listening to Mama’s memories of the good times long past. Now it was her turn to live. The Great Winter Ball had performed its magic after all, even if she had not attended with Costain.

She reluctantly drew back and gazed at him, smiling fatuously. “Just think, if you had not come to me with that letter, or if Uncle Rodney had been there, or if Mr. Leonard had not come, forcing me to run after you ...”

“But I did, and Uncle Rodney wasn’t, and Mr. Leonard did. It must be fate.” There was a sound of footsteps in the hallway. “That doesn’t sound like fate, however. More like Gordon.”

Gordon peered in. “I say, Costain, would you mind having a look at this note for Miss Stanfield? P’raps we’d best go into the study. You go and tell Mama your news, Cathy. She won’t be able to believe it. Oh, congratulations and all that, Costain. I see by her witless grin that she accepted. Now, about this letter, do you think
My Dear Miss Stanfield
or just
Dear Miss Stanfield
or—”

Costain’s mobile brows rose in impatience, then settled down again. “I shall call on you tomorrow, Cathy. My family loyalty has other duties for me now.
Á
demain."

He escorted her to the foot of the stairs, placed a light kiss on her cheek, and watched as she ascended, with many stops to look behind her.