Without a Summer (21 page)

She longed to have a private moment with him, but Mr. Hamilton claimed her attention next. “You have done wonders with him, you know.”

“Pardon?”

He walked her over to the fireplace and lowered his voice. “No one else will admit it, but Vincent is much easier with you than he ever was at home.”

“I am not sure that I can take any credit for that, sir.” If Vincent’s mood tonight counted as “easy” among the family, she could only imagine how he had been before. She suspected his change in spirits had more to do with escaping his father than any influence of hers.

“No? I saw him smile at you twice tonight.” Mr. Hamilton leaned against the fireplace and looked into it with as relaxed an attitude as any young dandy might affect.

Jane studied the flames with him. “Had you seen him since he left?”

“No. God, no. His lordship made it clear that any of us who did would be cut off.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Now you are deciding if I am unfeeling, or a coward.”

This was too close to the truth for Jane’s comfort, so she shifted the subject. “Was he always brooding? As a child?”

“Hm? No … no, I do not think so. I recall him being a merry infant.” He shrugged easily. “I think we all were.”

They were joined by Lord Garland, and any private conversation ceased. “Vincent tells me you saved his life. Twice.”

“Oh…” Jane folded her hands together and examined the carpet. She had not actually thought of it as such.

“Look! She blushes. So charming … still, the war! I should like to have been there, but with Lady Garland increasing, it was not a choice I could make.”

“Have you children, then?” Jane frowned. She had been certain that Lady Verbury said they did not.

“Only a girl, so I could have gone after all with no fuss. More’s the pity.” He clapped his brother on the back. “But you never can tell, can you?”

“If you could, many things would be a good deal easier, eh?” Mr. Hamilton laughed as though his brother had made a clever joke, but Jane failed to see the humour in it. She glanced over her shoulder at Vincent, who stood in conversation with Lord Merrick. Lady Verbury had taken a seat by Melody on the far side of the room, and the two seemed to be engaged in chatting placidly. Her sister had that tranquil expression she so often employed when listening. Occasionally she spoke earnestly, but the distance was too great to catch any hint of their conversation.

At the pianoforte, Lady Penelope brought her song to a close. “Caroline, do come and take a turn. I want to hear that Italian aria you were working on.”

Lady Merrick waved a slender hand in denial. “Oh, no, thank you. You have all tired of my playing, I am certain. I would rather hear Miss Ellsworth play.”

Melody jumped at her name and twitched her hands almost as though she were untying a glamour. “Oh, no, thank you. I am wanting any real skill at any of the arts, I am afraid.”

“Oh, my dear. You must apply yourself.” Lady Merrick shook her head with an expression of genuine regret. “A want of accomplishments will make it ever so much harder for a girl in your position to catch a husband.”

At so flagrant an attack on her sister, Jane decided she had had quite enough. She stepped away from the gentlemen. “Sir David? I hate to call your attention to the hour, but we perhaps should take our leave. We do have to work tomorrow.”

“Ah yes … Vincent’s hobby is now a profession,” Lord Verbury drawled. “How amusing that a son of mine works for a living.”

“I think many people work, sir, but some do not know the wages they pay for their style of living. We, at least, know who our masters are.” Jane turned to Vincent and held out her hand. “Sir David, shall we?”

“By all means, Lady Vincent.” He turned to his sister and offered her a full court bow. “Lady Penelope. Sir Waldo. The pleasure has been indescribable.”

*   *   *

The carriage had barely
left the drive of Essex House when Vincent sighed back against the cushions of the seat and pulled Jane’s hand into his. “That did not go nearly as badly as I thought it would.”

The sisters broke into a chorus of shocked outrage. “How could you—” “Not as badly?” “That was nothing like good.” “The worst possible—”

“No, truly.” He held up his hands as though to fend off their words. “I knew that Penny might invite the rest of the family.”

“And you did not warn us?” Jane prodded him with her finger in outrage. “You are as bad as they are.”

“I—no. I was not certain. I hoped not.” He fidgeted with one of the buttons at the knee of his breeches. “Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I feared she would, but wanted to believe the fear irrational.”

“But why would she?” Melody frowned and pulled her shawl tighter.

Vincent shrugged. “She was always my father’s favourite. Whatever he asks, she delivers.”

Jane squeezed his hand. “I do not see how you could survive such a parent. And your brothers and sisters are nearly as vicious.”

With a bitter chuckle low in his throat, Vincent looked out the window. “Oh, my dear. They were all on good behaviour tonight.”

This brought stunned silence to the ladies in the carriage. Jane pulled away to peer at her husband’s face, but as the carriage rolled through the streets, it was too dark to tell if he was jesting. “I have a difficult time believing that.”

He shrugged. “It does not matter. They are all creatures of my father. That Garland intervened for you is a sign that he liked you. No, truly. He was willing to needle my father on your behalf. He will pay for that infraction later, though he has more independence than the rest of them.”

Jane said, “For my part, I cannot understand why you retained any tie to them, even the name Vincent.”

“I—I never told you? I named myself after my mother’s father, who was always kind to me when he was alive.” He traced his finger around Jane’s hand and stopped at the wedding band beneath her glove. “My grandmother was an adept amateur glamourist who introduced me to the art. I am pleased to have another Lady Vincent in my life. Also, the name has always nettled my father.”

Melody cleared her throat. “Which brings us to the most unusual conversation I had with Lady Verbury.”

Jane sat up. The brief sentence from Vincent’s mother had been forgotten among the other events of the evening. “I too—when I was at the pianoforte, she took the opportunity of turning the page to tell me that Vincent was ‘right to get out.’” Vincent’s breath caught at that and she laid her other hand on top of his, grateful that the dark interior of the carriage hid him from Melody. “She said that she loved you and missed you.”

Jane could just catch the faint silhouette of his face staring at the ceiling. The carriage rocked over the cobbles to the clop-clopping of the horse, and the creak and groan of the springs. Outside, other carriages passed with a rush and rumble. Party-goers called boisterously to each other.

Vincent’s exhalation almost blended with the night sounds of London. “Well, Melody. What did she say to you?”

Melody’s swallow was audible in the small confines of the carriage. “She was afraid for you. She said … she said that Lord Verbury speaks in front of her because she ‘does not matter.’ She knows that you thwarted him, but not how.” Her voice got smaller. “She wants you to be careful.”

Jane sat up, trying to see her sister through the gloom. “When did she say all this to you?”

“On the couch. After the gentlemen came in. She said—she thought I had a similar want of consequence to the Earl, and so … so I was safer than Jane.” Melody’s fan opened with a rattle and air finally stirred inside the carriage. “La! I had so much difficulty keeping my composure.”

“I can imagine.” Vincent stirred on the seat, disengaging his hand from Jane’s. “She took quite a risk to speak to you.”

“There is more. She said that Jane had come too close to the point with her questions. Then we ran out of time.”

“I am sorry to have drawn you into my family’s politics.”

Melody said, “I do not mind. I am happy to help, if I can.” She hesitated and cleared her throat. “You might ask Mr. O’Brien about Lord Eldon. He is very well informed on the question of the coldmongers.”

Vincent humphed in surprise. “Is that where you learned of the bill?”

“Yes.”

Jane winced, but there was nothing to be done. She longed to tell him of the footman and ask what he made of that, but she did not want to mention the existing connection to Mr. O’Brien in Melody’s hearing. Not when that subject was still so raw.

They rode in silence for some time. Jane could not stop turning the puzzle over in her head. So many pieces to consider, but the connections between them were perplexing. She leaned against Vincent and whispered, “Do you think the message was genuine? Or—or was she acting on instruction from Lord Verbury?”

Vincent groaned and sat forward in the seat. His next words were subdued. “I would wish that you had not learned to ask that question.”

Jane rubbed Vincent’s back, wishing she could do more for him.

Sixteen

Animated Spirits

Vincent shut the door to their bedchamber and stood with his hand on the knob. “Jane … I might go up to the studio for a while.”

“Shall I come?”

She could almost see the “no” forming on his lips but he nodded instead. “Please. My head is too full.”

“Oh, my dear … I wish—I so wish…”

The corner of his mouth bent, and he shrugged. “I cannot help but wonder about my mother speaking to Melody like that. And to you. ‘Right to get out.’ Gah. Would that I could tell if she had been put up to it.” He scrubbed his face and stood with his hand wrapped in his hair. “It is of no use thinking of it.”

“There is—there might be a reason to consider it.” Jane came to stand by him. “Do you remember the servant that I told you I overheard at Mr. O’Brien’s? He is a footman at your sister’s.”

“What—but … are you certain?”

She nodded. “He started when he saw me, so I am quite certain.”

Vincent let go of the door and paced farther into the room, lifting his other hand to wrap it in his hair as well. “But … why? Muse, I will tell you that I was inclined to think that you were seeing intrigue where there was none—out of concern for Melody, but still. Now, though … now … but why? What could the connection be?”

“Could … your brother said that Lord Verbury wants to take Eldon’s seat as Lord Chancellor. We think that he wanted you to spy for him. Perhaps this is another avenue. Could he be using Mr. O’Brien to get information from the coldmongers about Eldon?”

Vincent stopped in front of the window with his back to her. “Surely simply engaging a coldmonger to spy would be easier.”

“Yes…” Jane chewed her lower lip, thinking. “But recall how William would not accept charity? Perhaps the honour of the guild is too high.”

Vincent lowered his hands and wheeled to face her, with an expression that suggested that he had no such faith in the honesty of man. “I could believe that of one man, but a group? Among them, there must be at least one, with a family in need, who would be willing to sell out his fellows for their sake.” He sighed and tucked his chin into his cravat. “No … no … perhaps the answer is not in the coldmongers, but … consider that we have been back in the country for some time. Why should the Earl wait to approach us? Consider that he did not until we had been employed by Lord Stratton. Perhaps his interest lies there, and not with the coldmongers.”

“I almost wish that I had not suggested to Melody that she discourage Mr. O’Brien. She might have been able to shed some light on his character.”

“Eh? Did you?” He lowered his head and scowled at the floor. “I am sorry to hear that. He seemed sincerely attached to her.”

“But you know it is not possible. Why should Melody risk heartache?”

“I rather think—but she is your sister, of course.” He rolled his neck and straightened to face her again. “The fact remains that your thought is correct. We need to know more about the gentleman than we do. I—I … Do I want to offer this? Yes. I have—had—some friends who would be likely to know all the gossip connected with the house.”

It was Jane’s turn to hold her breath. He could not be suggesting … “Miss de Clare?”

“What? Oh, Lord no. Jane, no.” He crossed the room in four great strides and gathered her hands. “No. From that part of my life, yes, but never her.”

Jane found that she was crying.

Vincent pulled her close to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, soothing and murmuring to her. The sound of his voice rumbled in her ear, with no meaning, except that he loved her. She clung to him, utterly ashamed of weeping, of suspecting him, of giving in to his father’s schemes. She held on to him and fought for control of her sensibilities once again.

She lifted a hand to brush the tears off her cheek. “I am sorry.”

“No … no … hush.” He kissed the top of her head. “I am sorry I suggested it.”

“It is reasonable.” She pushed back a little so she could see his face. His eyes were pink around the edges. “I only regret that I let your father— No. I will not call him that, for he is no sort of father— that I let the Earl so infect my thinking.”

“It is what he does.”

Her heart broke all over again for him, to have grown up under that twisted grasp. “Not to us.”

“Muse…”

“Rogue.”

Vincent bent to kiss her, and the room and the world beyond was lost in the warmth of his lips. When they broke apart, Jane’s heart beat against the confines of her stays.

Her husband traced the line of her jaw with his thumb and considered her. “Now, Muse … now that we understand each other, let me explain what my offer meant. I can go to the club frequented by some of the gentlemen I knew at university. Skiffy will be there, likely, and some others. If there is gossip to be had, they will have it.”

Jane remembered Vincent at Almack’s and hesitated to ask him to slip into that skin again. “You do not mind it?”

“I have been thinking that I could let my father rot for his own sake, but if what he is doing chances to touch on you or Melody, I will not stand for it.” He bent closer. “So, no. I do not mind it. Do you?”