The Valentine's Day Ball (9 page)

“Miss Lindsay, I know you have never thought of Heartland as a burden.” He paused as they both recalled Pipkin’s biblical pronouncement. Clearing his throat, the plump Mr. Crankshaft continued, “But someone has brought to my attention the fact that it might be so, and that person has offered to, uh, relieve you of the burden. For a very generous sum, I might add.”

Jane smiled. “Are you saying someone has offered to buy Heartland?”

He nodded.

“I hope you told him it wasn’t for sale?”

“I did indicate that it was unlikely. But the sum—”

“I wouldn’t take all the money in the Treasury. No, nor all the jewels, either!”

“I do understand, Miss Jane, but I did tell the gentleman I would approach you.”

Jane shook her head. What next? How could anyone think she regarded Heartland as a burden? It was her home! It was her life!

She turned sharply, her eyes on the discomfited lawyer. “Who was it? It couldn’t have been anyone from Bath. Who would think I might want to sell?”

“I did promise to keep his identity confidential.”

“Mr. Crankshaft, you have worked for my family for the past twenty years. I know I hope you have been happy in this association and wish it to continue.” Jane’s was only bluffing, but the man in front of her had no clue to this.

“It was Lord Devlin. He wants to buy it for his mother.”

“Devlin! I might have known! And all these visits have only been to inspect the property!”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Lindsay?”

“Never mind, Mr. Crankshaft, never mind. You will join us for tea before you go back to Bath, won’t you?”

b

Drew stretched his stiff limbs before picking up the morning mail and papers. He sifted through several before coming to the one he had been expecting. A smile was on his lips as he opened it.

Dear Lord Devlin,

I must apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusions the other day. I want to thank you for saving my cousin from her own foolishness.

Also, I want to thank you for the very generous offer for my house. Heartland is not now, nor will it ever be, for sale. Especially to you.

Most truthfully,

Jane Lindsay

The smile faded from his lips.

She was the most maddening female he had ever met. If he were in the market for a wife, he would marry her just to have the right to teach her how to go on. But he was not in the market for one, of course. Someday, perhaps, but not until his odious uncle was dead. And when he did choose a wife, it would be a sweet, unspoiled girl, perhaps the daughter of a respectable curate like his mother, someone who would be biddable and calm. It certainly wouldn’t be some high and mighty spinster with more hair than wit.

No, that wasn’t fair. Jane Lindsay was anything but stupid. Arrogant, pushy, self-righteous, and prudish, perhaps. Well…not
prudish
, not deep down.

His mind wandered, as it frequently did, to their encounter in Brother Valentine’s crypt.
Passionate
was the word for Miss Lindsay, though he doubted very much if Jane would agree with him. She wouldn’t admit to such an improper characteristic. It was no wonder she intruded into his thoughts so often.

Pushing his chair away from the table roughly, he walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of port. Sipping it thoughtfully, he was interrupted by his valet.

“What is it, Samuel?”

“Mr. Havelock wishes a few moments of your time, my lord.”

“Send him in.”
Just the man I need to see.

He liked a woman with spirit, but Jane Lindsay was a shrew. She needed taking down a peg. And if what he had in mind resulted in her selling Heartland to him, then so much the better.

“Devlin, old man. So good of you to see me so early in the morning. I do believe the rest of the world sleeps till noon, but I knew I could count on you.” He took the seat indicated.

“Samuel, get Mr. Havelock some coffee. And a plate?” he asked his visitor.

When they had both been served generous helpings of grilled kidneys, eggs, and toast, Havelock said confidently, “How about joining me this evening in a hand of cards? I’m meeting friends for dinner and then cards, dice, and so on.”

“Yes, thank you for inviting me.” Drew waited a few minutes before asking casually, “Tell me, have you had any more thoughts about that little puzzle we discussed recently?”

“What puzzle is that?”

“Who will inherit Heartland when Miss Lindsay is gone.”

“I did ask a fellow about it, you know. And he said it sounded like my mother. Of course, if she’s gone, it would be a matter for the courts to decide.”

“I daresay. You know, your cousin is not in the ordinary way.”

“Jane? Lord, you don’t have to tell me! She cares nothing for the gentler arts. Do you know she can shoot, drive, hunt, fish, and even fence a little bit?”

“Is that so? A regular fellow, eh?”

“Just about. Of course, I doubt she could best you or me in any of those things, but she’s good, all the same.”

“Still, she does have her foibles, if Miss Cherry is to be believed.”

Roland stopped chewing and looked up inquiringly.

“I understand she is extremely superstitious. So much so that she won’t walk near a graveyard at night.”

“I suppose that could be true. That old nurse of hers was from Cornwall and filled Jane’s head with all sorts of nonsense. I think she’s batty—the nurse, I mean—and I told Jane she should turn her off when she outgrew her usefulness, but Jane wouldn’t hear of it. Just another example of how wrong it is to have a woman in charge of an estate like that.”

“Exactly! You know, I offered to buy Heartland from her?”

Havelock choked on his coffee, spilling some down the front of his brocade waistcoat. “Did she take your head off?”

“Oh, I spoke to her lawyer. She did write me though. Most unpleasant.”

Havelock snorted. “No doubt! She got a viper’s tongue.”

Momentarily diverted by a very different remembrance of that tongue, Drew fell silent. But after all, what he was going to propose was just a prank, just a little joke to get back at Miss Lindsay for her impudent letter.

With this in mind, he leaned closer to the distasteful Roland Havelock and pretended an interest in his guest’s conversation.

b

It was the next morning, and Drew had a dreadful headache. Probably from that wretched liquor he had consumed the night before while attempting to be an agreeable host, he thought miserably. But it was worth it. Everything had gone as planned.

He knew Roland Havelock was a dreadful card player and a reckless gambler. While Drew rarely indulged, he was generally quite lucky. And even if he hadn’t won, which he had, he was certain Havelock would lose, spreading his vouchers around the table. As luck would have it Drew now held most of those vouchers in his dressing gown. They would be sufficient to win Havelock’s cooperation in the little prank he intended to play.

“Mr. Havelock, my lord,” announced the valet.

Drew took another sip of the strong black coffee and tried to appear more sharp-witted than he felt.

“Your servant, Devlin,” groaned Havelock. Drew had thought his own appearance sadly rumpled, but compared to the unfortunate Roland Havelock, he was in excellent shape.

“Have a seat.” Drew produced a handful of crumpled vouchers from his pocket and spread them on the table. “I assume you’ve come to take care of these.”

“Well, I, uh…you see, there is some difficulty…”

Drew raised a brow and waited mercilessly.

“I’ve had some setbacks recently and must beg your indulgence for a short time.”

“How short?”

“A matter of two or three weeks, at most.”

“Let me understand this, Havelock. You played an entire evening, losing all the while, and had no way to redeem your vouchers?” Havelock nodded slowly. “Very bad form, old man.”

“I do apologize, my lord. I expected my run of bad luck to end.”

“That’s what all bad gamblers say. Still, there is a way.”

“Yes?”

“You could do a small favour for me, and I would be willing to forget these.”

Havelock watched Drew lift the pile of notes, letting them slip through his fingers. Havelock slipped a nervous finger inside his wilted collar and licked his fat lips.

“What is it?”

“A trifling matter. I have a score to settle with your cousin, Miss Lindsay. It is but a prank, but I believe it would take her down a peg. Of course, I will understand if you feel you cannot help me out of family loyalty.”

To give the man credit, Havelock hesitated all the same. Drew suspected he was weighing his cousin’s anger against the windfall of having his vouchers returned.

“Well?”

Roland Havelock’s beady eyes returned to the pile of vouchers. “Very well, as long as it doesn’t harm her.”

“She won’t come to any harm, I promise you. The first thing I want you to do is to see to it she discovers this note.” He handed over a small note, which Havelock read quickly.

“I don’t understand. What are you doing with a note to my cousin Cherry from Pierce?”

Clearly, the man’s understanding was limited.

“It is not really for Miss Cherry, nor is it from Lord Pierce. I wrote it so that Miss Lindsay would feel it necessary to go to the graveyard just past the Heartland gardens. She would only venture to such a spot at midnight if she thought she were saving her cousin.”

“That’s true enough. Still, I don’t see what good that will do you. It’s not as though there is going to be a ghost to scare her or anything.”

“Oh, but I can assure you there will be.”

b

How her Cousin Roland had engineered an invitation to dinner, Jane couldn’t be sure. He had probably flattered Aunt Sophie dreadfully, for as a rule, her aunt disliked him. But here he was, and they were stuck with him for an entire evening.

It was not as if her evenings were exciting without his presence. Quite the contrary, but while the ladies of Heartland lived quietly most of the time, their evenings were never boring. And boredom was what Jane was experiencing at that moment. She forced herself to pay attention to her company once more.

“And then the duchess said—“

“Which duchess?” asked Cherry. “Was it the Duchess of Wentworth? I am acquainted with her, you know.”

“Why, yes. Yes, so it was. Anyway she said, ‘Roland, you scamp, I believe you’ve the devil’s own luck with cards!’ Of course, she was right, and she was soon into me quite heavily.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize she gambled,” said Cherry.

“Lord, child,” said her mother. “All the ladies play, though mostly silver loo. Why, we must teach you before we go up to London, so that you will know how to go on.”

“I should be happy to be of service,” said Cousin Roland with gallantry. But Jane thought it time to intervene; she had heard rumours about her Cousin Roland’s skill at the tables—or lack of it.

“I will teach you, Cherry.” She ignored a glare from Havelock. “After all, you want to know how ladies play, not an expert, neck-or-nothing player such as Cousin Roland is reputed to be.” With this, Jane rose from the table and led the way to the gold salon.

“I’ll just bring my port along, if you ladies have no objection. Nothing worse than sitting all alone at a huge table with only a glass of spirits for company.”

The gold salon was so named for the colour of its draperies but also for the delicate white Louis XIV furniture trimmed in gold. Jane led the way to an intimate grouping of two couches and two chairs. The sofas faced one another, and she claimed one of these, pulling Cherry down by her side. Aunt Sophie sat on the opposite couch while Cousin Roland prepared to sit on one of two dainty chairs.

As he lowered his considerable bulk, Jane wondered irreverently where she would find another to match the set. She wasn’t certain if the subsequent creaking emanated from the chair or Cousin Roland’s corset, but the chair remained intact.

Roland leaned toward Cherry and began to tell her slightly scandalous tales of London and its better-known inhabitants. Cherry blushed at his boldness, but Jane recognized the stories as being two or three Seasons old and quite exaggerated.

Trying to draw Roland’s attention away from Cherry, who was obviously uncomfortable, Jane asked, “How is your mother, Roland? You have been to see her since your return to England, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I intend to go next week. She has been ill, and I didn’t wish to visit on account of that.”

Aunt Sophie looked shocked. “But surely you must realize, my boy, that the best thing for an ailing mother is her child? You should go to her at once and beg forgiveness!”

“There’s no need for that. Mother understands only too well my delicate, susceptible constitution. She would be terrified lest I contract some deadly disease from her.” He patted Aunt Sophie’s plump hand on the arm of the sofa on his left.

Their conversation drifted haphazardly here and there for the next hour. Jane’s thoughts wandered, and she was caught several times without the appropriate rejoinder to a query. She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs and endeavoured to pay attention. Yawning, she wondered desperately if it were too early to send for the tea tray.

“What we need is music,” she announced during a lull in conversation. “Cherry, why don’t you play something? You perform much better in company than I do.” This was certainly true. Whereas Jane’s playing was more inventive—a tactic she employed to cover mistakes—Cherry’s skill could easily be appreciated by any audience.

Roland helped Cherry to her feet and led her to the pianoforte. The listening trio smiled at one another as Cherry began a flawless introduction.

Jane settled back on the sofa to enjoy the performance, one hand leaving her lap and coming to rest on the upholstery where Cherry had been sitting. Her fingers touched paper, and she looked down at a note. In bold, masculine handwriting, she read Cherry’s name on the outside. Unobtrusively, she picked up the note, easily holding it in her palm.

Jane looked about to be sure everyone’s attention was elsewhere while she opened the note slightly and digested its contents. Then she slipped it between the cushions.

That I have been reduced to this! And if I didn’t read notes addressed to someone else, notes found accidentally, I would have no clue about Cherry’s little peccadilloes.

Obviously, Cherry would soon announce that she was retiring. Hadn’t she said earlier she needed to write letters to her schoolgirl friends in London? Probably invented that tale just so she could escape and meet Lord Pierce in the graveyard!