Waltz With a Stranger (20 page)

“Unfortunately, that appears to be how she regards
you
.” Lady Talbot glanced at the letter, now lying on James’s desk. “What do you mean to do with that?”

“Hold on to it, for now. If I destroyed it, I would appear guilty indeed. And, libelous though it is, this letter represents evidence of some grudge against me—and my relations.”

“Sir Harry Tresilian, you mean.”

“So you recognized the initials.”

“I recognized
his
. Unlike Joshua, I saw no reason to shun your mother’s family, and Sir Harry has always seemed an estimable young man. But I have no idea whom R. P. might be.”

“Nor I. Harry might, however, once he sees this.” James locked the letter in the topmost drawer of his desk. “I’ll ride over tomorrow and show it to him. Perhaps he can also tell me if this malicious rumor is indeed spreading through the county. But tonight,” he smiled wryly at his aunt, “we have the Newbolds to entertain. If such a thing is possible, under the circumstances.”

“You may leave that to me,” Lady Talbot asserted. “I will not allow Helena to poison your guests against you, or mar what was supposed to be a pleasant interlude for you and your intended bride. My dear niece,” she added in a tone that was anything but affectionate, “will keep a civil tongue in her head while she’s under this roof, if she knows what’s good for her!”

Knowing both women, James felt fairly certain of his aunt’s success. “Thank you. I am deeply grateful Talbot was able to spare you this month. Though you may have got more than you bargained for, coming here,” he added ruefully.

“Nonsense, I am a Trelawney, a Cornishwoman, and more than equal to any rubbish Helena serves out. We’ll find a way to nip that nasty rumor in the bud.” She patted his arm. “Gerald’s death was a shock and a tragedy—if only because he did not live long enough to improve his character. But I have never once believed you involved with it, even before the coroner’s evidence exonerated you completely.”

“One wonders why that wasn’t enough for Helena,” James remarked. Despite himself, he could not prevent a hint of bitterness from creeping into his tone. “From the sound of it, she actively
wants
me to be guilty, though for what reason I cannot imagine.”

His aunt sighed. “Oh, who knows what ails her this time? She was always a willful, headstrong child, better at making enemies than friends. But in all fairness, neither her father nor her mother did right by her. Joshua cared only for Pentreath, and Augusta cared only for Gerald. And Gerald himself was quite the egoist, as we both know. Well, put all this from your mind tonight, if you can,” she added briskly. “Your guests are here, expecting a fine dinner and a pleasant evening. We shall ensure that they have both.”

“Indeed, we shall,” James agreed, with a new appreciation for her sangfroid. “So, I had best go up and wash, hadn’t I?”

He kissed his aunt’s cheek and strode from the room.

***

Refreshed after a nap and a hot bath, Aurelia dried her hair before the fire and studied her chamber. Such a pretty room, decorated in soft blues, silvery greys, with the faintest touches of green—like the sea on a misty summer morning. The bed’s canopy was worked in the same misty blues and greys as the curtains at the window, which afforded a stunning view of the sea in the distance. According to Tamsin, the housemaid who’d conveyed her upstairs, this had been Lady Talbot’s room as a girl. Aurelia hoped her family was equally pleased with their chambers.

With characteristic efficiency, Suzanne had put away all of Aurelia’s clothes while her mistress slept. Now she laid out a dinner gown and matching slippers in a soft, misty shade of green; sea green, Aurelia thought with a smile. And pearls for adornment, she decided—the strand she’d received for her birthday—and her teardrop pearl earrings. Suzanne approved her choice and brought out silver-and-pearl combs for her hair as well.

Once Aurelia was dressed for dinner, Suzanne draped a light shawl about her shoulders, observing—a touch critically—that it seemed cooler in Cornwall than in London.

“Indeed it does,” Aurelia replied. “But I understand that high summer is approaching, and Cornwall becomes beautifully warm then. Even the sea.”

Suzanne still looked dubious. “If you say so, mademoiselle.”

Aurelia hid a smile as she smoothed her gloves. “I’ll go and see how my sister is faring,” she said, and slipped out of her chamber.

Amy’s room was located a short distance down the passage; Aurelia knocked lightly on the door. “Amy, are you ready?”

“Not yet, Relia,” her twin called back. “But please, come in.”

Aurelia obeyed, closing the door behind her. Amy was sitting at the dressing table, while Mariette brushed and coiled her hair into an elegant upsweep.

“You look lovely, dearest,” Aurelia said, smiling at her.

Her twin wore ivory tonight—a good shade for her, usually, but she looked slightly pale. Weary from the journey, Aurelia wondered, or—the unwelcome reminder struck her—troubled by the unpleasant business that had marred their arrival? How had Lord Trevenan dealt with Lady Durward and her dreadful accusations? Aurelia could only hope he’d sent her packing.

“Amy, are you feeling quite well?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Amy said, perhaps too quickly. “Only a little tired after all that traveling.” She applied a drop of scent from a crystal bottle to the inside of her wrist; the mingled scents of rose and jasmine perfumed the air. “You look very well yourself,” she remarked, sliding her gaze in Aurelia’s direction. “And not the least bit weary.”

“I napped for nearly an hour, and a bath took care of the rest. Amy,” Aurelia hesitated for a moment, “have you heard anything regarding Lord Trevenan’s other—visitors?”

“The Durwards, you mean?” Amy pulled a face. “Lady Talbot stopped by to tell me—warn me, rather—that they will be staying at Pentreath as well.”

“Good heavens, really?” Aurelia asked, appalled.

Amy nodded, then desisted at a reproving “zut!” from Mariette as she pinned her mistress’s last curl into place. “Unfortunately, yes. But according to Lady Talbot, this is a family matter that’s best addressed by having her remain here.” She sighed. “James made the decision himself. Lady Talbot assures me that the Durwards will not be permitted to make trouble during their stay. She’s even had them put in chambers as far from ours as possible. Still, having them under the same roof is bound to be disagreeable. A pity this estate doesn’t have a dower house!”

“I will bring your gloves and shawl now, mademoiselle,” Mariette announced and whisked away to the other end of the room where the chest of drawers stood.

“Amy,” Aurelia lowered her voice, “what do you know of Lady Durward’s accusation?”

“Oh, it’s nonsense, of course,” Amy said at once. “Trevenan’s cousin died last January in a fall. There was an inquest, but the coroner said it was an accident—and that he was, well, somewhat intoxicated at the time. I don’t recall ever meeting him last year,” she added with a slight frown. “He’d have been Viscount Alston then. Aunt Caroline told me that he was the hearty sportsman-type, mainly interested in hunting and shooting—and in no hurry to wed.

“In any case, I know James had nothing to do with his death. He was miles away at the time, and he’s got tons of witnesses to prove it. And Papa already knows about this too. James told him when he first asked to court me. I should think all of us have more sense than to believe that spiteful harpy. She’s probably hoping for something—money, most likely.”

To
buy
her
silence?
Aurelia wondered. An uncomfortable thought, indeed.

“James must have the patience of a saint to deal with her as he has,” her sister went on. “Not to mention allowing her to stay here after the way she behaved.
I
should have shown her the door at once, and enlisted the staff to send her on her way if she refused to go!”

“Perhaps he hopes to contain her in some way,” Aurelia speculated. “I should think it would be far worse to have Lady Durward running all over Cornwall with her accusations, or worse, spreading her slanders in London.”

“True,” Amy acknowledged. “Not that anyone with a grain of sense would credit what she says. But she could still make life hideously unpleasant for James in the meantime.”

And
for
me
. The words hung unspoken on the air.

“I am sure he’ll find some way to deal with her,” Aurelia said soothingly. “Or Lady Talbot will; she certainly seems formidable enough.”

Mariette returned to drape a silk shawl over her mistress’s shoulders and fasten the pearl buttons on her evening gloves. Amy thanked her somewhat absently, then rose with a militant sparkle in her blue eyes. “Well, I just hope that harridan won’t be joining us at dinner!”

Fortunately, there was no sign of Lady Durward or her husband when they entered the drawing room. According to Lady Talbot, her nephew’s other guests had elected to take their meals in their rooms. Aurelia strongly suspected their hostess had influenced that decision, but she could only be thankful the Durwards had absented themselves, for everyone’s sake.

She glanced at Trevenan, who was presently standing by the mantelpiece gazing into the fire; the imprint of Lady Durward’s hand could no longer be seen on his cheek, but his dark eyes held an abstracted, even troubled look. What a miserable homecoming this must be for him, she thought with a rush of sympathy. She did not doubt his innocence any more than Amy did. What reason could Lady Durward have to accuse him, and why did she seem to hate him so?

Even as she watched, Lord Trevenan straightened up and came to greet them. True to his breeding, he made no reference to that ugly business in the courtyard, but offered his arm to Mrs. Newbold to begin the formal promenade into dinner. Lady Talbot partnered Mr. Newbold, leaving Andrew to escort his sisters.

The dining room was somewhat cool but not unbearably so. Aurelia’s shawl afforded her enough protection from stray draughts, and a fire burned cheerily in the grate. Lord Trevenan and Lady Talbot presided over opposite ends of the table, draped in pale damask and set with gleaming Crown Derby china and silverware so highly polished one could see one’s face in it.

Dinner was excellent—a touch plainer than what Aurelia had seen on London tables, but the food was handsomely presented, savory, and plentiful. The fish was especially good, not surprising as Pentreath was so close to the sea. Oyster soup was followed by soles browned in butter, then spring lamb with mint sauce and new potatoes, and two chickens spit-roasted to a rich golden-brown. A sweet course of fresh fruit—strawberries and cherries—and a blackberry tart with cream ended the meal. Aurelia ate with genuine relish and was glad to see that her family also appeared to be enjoying the food; the long journey seemed to have given all of them an appetite.

Conversation was light, even desultory, ranging over a variety of topics that might have been purposely chosen not to give offense. After what had happened earlier, Trevenan and Lady Talbot were no doubt intent on maintaining a relaxed, convivial atmosphere. Not having witnessed that exchange with the Durwards, Aurelia’s parents were perfectly at ease; Andrew too seemed inclined to accept the situation at face value. Aurelia wished she could do the same instead of feeling like there was a cache of dynamite with a slowly burning fuse stashed away upstairs. She glanced at Amy, but her twin’s face was an alabaster mask: calm and unreadable.

After dinner, the women left the men to their port, proceeding to the drawing room where Lady Talbot offered a choice of tea or coffee. Aurelia accepted a cup of coffee, then gazed about the room, admiring its understated elegance. The house’s Tudor charm was evident here: The exposed roof-beams were varnished to a dark gloss, while the walls were painted a contrasting shade of warm white, setting off several oil paintings and a marvelous tapestry woven in deep greens, warm reds, and rich saffrons. Aurelia resolved to have a closer look later.

The rest of the furnishings appeared to have been chosen with equal care—from the chairs and sofa upholstered in muted blue-and-green brocade to the tables, bookcases, and curio cabinets all gleaming with polish. A grand piano stood in the far corner, and the room itself was lightly redolent of citrus potpourri and beeswax. Aurelia took an appreciative breath, feeling oddly at ease. Pentreath might not be as splendid as some of the great estates she and her family had visited, but it seemed far more comfortable, even welcoming: a home and not a showplace.

Lady Talbot’s voice recalled her to the present. “Pentreath has not really had a proper mistress since my mother died,” the viscountess was saying. “I acted as one for only a few years before my own marriage. And Augusta—my brother Joshua’s wife—preferred the Shires, where her family came from, or London.” She smiled at Amy. “I am pleased to know that will change, when you and James are married.”

“I think Pentreath a very handsome estate, Lady Talbot,” Amy declared. “And I look forward to discovering more about Cornwall, as Trevenan has such a deep attachment to it.”

“Oh, James is Cornish to the bone, never happier than when he is here! His father was just the same—and his uncle,” she added, with the air of one trying to give the latter his due. “I too love my birthplace dearly, and try to spend some time here every summer.”

Aurelia couldn’t help wondering where the Durwards fit into all this, or the late earl, for that matter. The picture that was emerging of this family was not entirely comforting. Trevenan had mentioned that his uncle was not an easy man to live with, but he had loved his estate. His wife clearly hadn’t shared that affection. In what other ways might they have been ill-suited? And how might the children of an unhappy marriage have turned out, and how might they have treated another child whom they possibly saw as an interloper? She thought of Lady Durward’s venom toward Trevenan and suppressed a shiver. If Gerald had treated his cousin with the same open hostility and contempt, it was little wonder that James spoke so seldom of him.