The Ruby Pendant Read online

  He was laughing at her and it infuriated her, but short of cutting him dead and creating a scene she could do nothing but take his hand and allow herself to be led onto the floor.

  `Do you always take your duties so seriously?' she asked as they stepped between the line of dancers.

  `Naturally, I do.'

  `And my papa outlined your duties for tonight most specifically, I do not doubt.'

  He chuckled. 'He did no more than ask me to escort two beautiful ladies to a ball. That is not a duty, it is a pleasure.'

  Pretty compliments as well as good looks! Was she supposed to be impressed? A man needed more than that to become a lifelong partner, though she could not exactly define what it was. A kind of empathy, she supposed, a meeting of minds, mutual love. Oh, yes, love above all things. 'And where did you learn your social accomplishments, Mr Devonshire?' she asked.

  They parted at the end of the line and he was not able to answer until the dance brought them together again at the far end. 'Social accomplishments,' he repeated. 'I was not aware of any in particular.'

  `Flattery, for one. Do not think I am misled by that, Mr Devonshire. Young I may be, but I am not such a goose as to be taken in by compliments.'

  She left him to circle around another dancer, while he did the same and then they came together in the middle, stepping round each other like a pair of fighting cocks. `In that case, what shall we talk of?'

  `I am intrigued to know why Papa asked you to escort us.'

  `He trusts me, as I trust him.'

  `How long have you known him?'

  `His lordship? Since I was ten years old.'

  `As long as that?' She was surprised for the second time that evening. In truth, life seemed to be full of surprises just lately. Was that all part of the process of growing up? When you are young, she thought, you accepted people without troubling yourself with questions about how and why they came to be the kind of men and women they were.

  There was, for instance, more to her father than the devoted husband and parent, and this man, with his easy elegance and brooding good looks, knew more than she did. She was torn between her need to know and her reluctance to let him see her ignorance. And her natural curiosity won. 'How did you meet?'

  Again they parted and again they returned to each other. 'He found me in somewhat straitened circumstances and helped me to find my feet. I owe him my life, my education, my ability to earn a living, for without the education I could have achieved nothing.' His voice took on a husky tone as he spoke, as if it was something he found difficult to speak about, but it was full of sincerity, nothing like the light voice he had used to pay easy compliments.

  She tilted her head to look up at him and wished that she had not. He was looking at her with an expression which seemed to say, 'I know all about you, everything there is to know, I can see into your soul. Nothing can be hidden from me.' She gave an involuntary shiver which spread from her body down to her toes and fingers.

  `Oh. Then you would do anything he asked of you?' she queried.

  `Anything within my power. Even attending functions I have no particular interest in and being interrogated by a young lady who seems to forget her manners at times.' His smile belied the severity of his words and she realised he was teasing her. Instead of being annoyed, she laughed.

  `I beg pardon for that, indeed I do, but how else am I to learn if I do not ask questions? No one sees fit to enlighten me unless I do.'

  He smiled as the dance came to an end and offered her his arm to go into supper. Her mother followed, escorted by Lord Hart. 'What do you wish to be enlightened about?'

  `Why I am here at all.'

  `You mean why you exist? That is a profound question indeed.'

  `No, I meant why I was brought to London. And why I have never met Mr Martindale, or even heard of him before. It all seems so strange. Do you know him?'

  `Before tonight I had not met him.' He settled her in a seat at one of the small tables dotted around the dining room and sat down beside her, but she was more interested in the answers to her questions than in eating, delicious though everything looked.

  `How old are you?' he asked, offering her a plate of little tartlets filled with fish in a creamy sauce.

  She took one and put it on her plate alongside a chicken leg, wondering whether to refuse to answer, but as he was treating her in a very avuncular fashion and her mother, though out of earshot, was looking at her, she decided she might as well humour him. 'I am nineteen.'

  `There you are, then. It is surely time you came out. Most young ladies are not only out, but married by your age.'

  `Perhaps they are, but Mama has not been well these last two years and we were obliged to postpone my Season. We had planned it for next year when Mama had fully recovered and Papa hoped to be less occupied with the war. His change of mind was so sudden and all because of Lieutenant Veillard and that portrait...'

  She stopped in confusion, wondering why she had mentioned that. Did she think he knew the answer? Or was it that his manner invited confidences?

  He smiled, putting food on his own plate and beckoning a waiter to pour wine for them both. 'Now it is my turn to be intrigued. Tell me, who is Lieutenant Veillard? The name sounds French.'

  `It is. He is a prisoner of war, but he is gentleman and a great artist.'

  `Oh. I see. An unsuitable liaison...?'

  `It was nothing of the kind. It is all on account of him painting me like a French aristo. He made me look older, in a great hooped gown and dripping with jewels. It upset Mama.'

  `It is hardly surprising. You are the embodiment of a young and innocent girl and an English one at that. No wonder Lady Martindale was upset. She could hardly hang the picture, could she? Or show it to her friends.'

  `No, but she need not have accused poor Lieutenant Veillard of stealing.'

  `Stealing what?'

  `I don't know. That is where the mystery comes in.' She turned to face him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. She had gone this far, she might as well go on. `You could not find out for me, could you?'

  `Me? Certainly not.' His answer was immediate and somewhat acerbic. Seeing the pained expression on her face, he wished he had paused long enough to ask her why it was so important to her, why she had asked him and not someone closer to her. Did she suppose he would be like clay in her hands, soft and malleable? Or was she clutching at a straw, a last resort because no one else would take her seriously? His answer had been the correct one, but he wished he had not spoken so sharply. 'I am sorry,' he added more gently.

  She sighed. The answer was no less than she expected. If Mr Devonshire had such a high regard for her father, he would not do anything behind his mentor's back. 'I mean to find out,' she said. 'I mean to discover why Mama is so afraid and why I have suddenly acquired a cousin I knew nothing of.'

  `You have not suddenly acquired him. If any acquiring has been done, it is surely the other way about; he is undoubtedly two or three years older than you are. I imagine your arrival put his nose severely out of joint.'

  `He is still the heir; my arrival did not change that.'

  `No, but you need to be plump in the pocket to run an establishment like Hartlea. What do you suppose he will do for funds when the time comes?' He smiled. 'Not that I expect that to happen for many years. I sincerely hope his lordship has a long life before him.'

  `Oh, so do I,' she said. The thought of her father dying was not to be entertained. 'Let us talk about something more cheerful.'

  Which is what they did and she discovered that he was not so stuffy as he had at first appeared and his sense of humour matched hers. Before long he had her laughing at some anecdote about the Prince Regent, whom he appeared to know quite well and the rest of the evening passed so pleasantly she forgot her unanswered questions, but they were still there, ready to surface again as soon as the heady evening was over.

  As for Philip; he had not enjoyed himself so much for years, though he was only too aware th
at as a prospective suitor, he had nothing to offer the delectable Miss Martindale. And, wending his way back to his lodgings in the early hours, he laughed at himself for even allowing the thought to cross his mind.

  Chapter Two

  Country hours of early to bed and early to rise and dinner at three were impossible in London. Too much happened in the evenings and hardly anything before mid-day, so that Juliette constantly found herself going to bed at dawn and rising at noon. Dinner was more often at five or six and supper nearer midnight.

  It played havoc with her sleep and her digestion, and she began to wonder if her mother's fragile health would stand the strain for a whole Season. But Lady Martindale would not hear of having a quiet day or two with no engagements.

  `We might as well have stayed at Hartlea if we are going to sit at home doing nothing,' she said, the day after the ball. They were in the morning room, having only just come down from their bedchambers, although the day was well-advanced. Her ladyship was examining the invitations that had arrived earlier. 'You will never take if you are not seen out and about.'

  `Mama, I do so hate that expression. It makes me sound like a cow at market or a custard you are afraid will curdle. And it is so one-sided. I want to have a say in what happens to me.'

  `Juliette, you are not old enough and wise enough to make a suitable choice without some guidance. But your papa will not force you to marry someone you take in dislike, of that I am sure.'

  For the first time Juliette felt brave enough to question her iron-willed mother. 'What about you, Mama? Do you not believe in marrying for love?'

  `Love comes later, if you are so fortunate. Your papa was chosen for me by my father, but I would not change him for the world.'

  'And have you anyone in mind for me? Mr Martindale, perhaps, or Mr Devonshire.'

  `Mr Devonshire!' Her mother's astonishment was genuine. 'Good gracious, that never entered my head. He has no title and no fortune and besides, I do believe he has foreign connections.' She looked closely at Juliette as she spoke. 'You have not formed an attachment there, have you?'

  `No, indeed not,' she said, aware that her cheeks were flaming and angry with herself for not being able to prevent it. 'He is too pompous by far. He behaves towards me like an uncle who has been entrusted with my moral welfare...'

  `Which is exactly the truth of the matter.' Her mother laughed. It was the first time Juliette had heard her laughter since the episode over the portrait. 'At least it was so last night because your papa asked him to escort us and you are vexed because he prevented you dancing a third time with James Martindale.'

  `Is Mr Martindale really my cousin? I find it hard to believe that we have never met before. He hinted that Papa and his father quarrelled. It doesn't sound the least like Papa to hold a grudge for so long.'

  `It is not. If any quarrelling was done, it was all on one side, I can assure you.'

  `What was it about?'

  `I really do not know.'

  `Why has nothing been done to mend the rift?' she asked, wondering why she did not altogether believe her mother did not know the reason for it.

  `I do not know that either, but now you have the opportunity to set all to rights.'

  `Me?' Juliette asked in surprise. 'How can I do that?'

  `James is very taken by you, he made no effort to hide it...'

  `Oh, Mama, you surely do not think he will offer for me? We have only just met.' She was not ready for offers yet. The thought of receiving a proposal filled her with apprehension. What was she supposed to do? How was she to know whom to accept? Her reading of romantic novels had led her to believe she would know when she fell in love because it would be like a bolt from the sky and there would be no doubt in her mind at all. But no one she had yet met had delivered such a blow, certainly not Pierre Veillard, or Mr Martindale. There was something about him that sent shivers of apprehension down her spine and she had no idea why that should be. As for Mr Devonshire, he was, according to her mother, not even to be considered and yet he was the one who made her heart beat faster and he was easy to talk to. She had confided in him about Pierre and the portrait without a second's hesitation. But that wasn't love, was it?

  Her mother did not answer because at that moment a footman appeared to announce the arrival of Mr Martindale.

  `My respects, my lady,' he said, sweeping confidently into the room dressed in biscuit coloured pantaloons, a blue superfine coat with darker facings, a blue and yellow striped waistcoat and the most extravagantly tied cravat Juliette had ever seen. He bowed before her ladyship, who smiled and offered her hand to be kissed, which he did with aplomb. Then turning to Juliette, he asked, 'And how are you, Miss Martindale?'

  `I am very well, Mr Martindale.'

  `I hope you are not too tired after last night because I was hoping for the favour of being allowed to escort you for a carriage ride in the park this afternoon. I have recently acquired a brand-new barouche and a pair of matched bays.' He turned to Lady Martindale, smiling. `That is, if your mama will consent to accompany us.'

  'I have not been in the best of health and am much fatigued, Mr Martindale,' her ladyship said. 'And I have promised myself a comfortable coze at home with an old friend, but if Juliette wishes to go, then her maid may accompany her.'

  Juliette suppressed a little gasp. This was the first she had heard of her mother meeting a friend and she had never heard her tell an untruth before. Was she trying to throw them together? In view of the story of the family quarrel, she was not at all sure she should accept the invitation without first asking her father. It would put her mother out of countenance if she should point that out in front of the young man, so she hesitated, wondering if she ought to make some excuse to decline. She had almost made up her mind to do so, when Mr Devonshire was announced.

  Wearing a military-style frockcoat and kerseymere pantaloons, he came into the room, smiling easily, and strode over to the ladies to make his bow before them and ask how they did. On being assured that both were well, he added, 'I had hoped to speak to his lordship...'

  `I am afraid he is not at home,' Lady Martindale said. `But please sit down.'

  Philip turned to James, apparently noticing him for the first time. 'Good day to you, Martindale.'

  `Good day to you.' James grinned at him, though his eyes flickered, as if he could not quite meet the other's steady gaze. 'You see, I beat you to it. I am to escort Miss Martindale in the park this afternoon.'

  `I congratulate you on your good fortune,' Philip said.

  Then, to the ladies, he added, 'Please excuse me, I will withdraw and return another time, if her ladyship and Miss Martindale will do me the honour of receiving me.'

  Her ladyship smiled a little stiffly. 'Of course.'

  The grin on James Martindale's face as he watched him go, was one of unalloyed triumph and Juliette found herself feeling sorry for Mr Devonshire. Was she supposed to be pleased that two men were so obviously at daggers drawn over her? Or was there more to it than that?

  And now it had been taken out of her hands; James had assumed she had consented and there was no opportunity to contradict him because her other partners from the ball arrived in quick succession, bringing flowers and sweetmeats, and after a few desultory remarks about the success of the occasion, James took his leave, saying he would call for her at three o'clock.

  Lord Martindale returned to the house from the House of Lords a little after two. He went straight into the library, ordering food and wine to be taken in to him. Juliette waylaid the servant with the tray and took it in herself.

  `My,' he said, smiling up at her from his armchair on one side of the hearth, 'what have I done to deserve such attention from the belle of the ball?'

  `Who said I was the belle of the ball? Surely not Mama?'

  `Why not Mama? She is as proud of you as I am and it is due to her that you looked so well. She said you had been a great success.'

  Juliette smiled with pleasure; her mother rarely praised.
`Oh, but I have to own that I was tempted to accept a third dance with the same partner.'

  `Oh,' he teased. 'And who had the temerity to ask you three times?'

  `Mr James Martindale. He called earlier and asked me to take a carriage ride with him in the park.'

  `Did he, by Jove!'

  `Papa, should we be receiving him? He told me you and his father had quarrelled.'

  `So we did, but it was a long time ago and all forgotten now.' He sounded unnaturally jolly.

  `Then you have no objection to my going?'

  `None at all, my dear. But do not let him monopolise you. I want you to meet every eligible in town and make your own choice. You must have met and danced with others.'

  `Indeed, I did. There was Mr Arthur Boreton and Mr Macgregor, but he is so fat he had no idea where he was putting his feet. And Lord Hart took me on the floor for the Lancers, which must have been very unwise at his age. He hardly had breath left at the end to speak. I began to think he would have a seizure. And there was Selwyn Lampeter, but he is hardly out of the schoolroom and I think he was using me to practise his dance steps. And Mr Devonshire, but he danced with me out of duty.'

  `How can you say that? I am sure he did not.'

  `He implied it was to prevent me making a fool of myself over Mr Martindale, Papa.'

  `Were you about to make a fool of yourself?'

  `No. I simply had not taken note of the number of times we had danced. I cannot see that it matters anyway.'

  `Oh, it does - you ask the tabbies who sit round the floor counting. I am indebted to Mr Devonshire.'

  `He came this morning, too, but he left very quickly when he saw Mr Martindale was here. Mr Martindale was crowing over him. Papa, I do not think they like each other. Do you know why?'

  `No, except a little rivalry perhaps. You are a very beautiful young lady, you know.'

  Juliette sighed. She didn't understand the ways of Society, in spite of her mother's careful instruction. It all seemed so false. 'Mama has said I may accept Mr Martindale's invitation and Anne is to come too.'