Dear Deceiver Read online

  ‘Your loyalty does you credit,’ he said. ‘But if I had not come along…’

  ‘I know and I am truly grateful, but if you tell Dominic any of this I shall never speak to you again.’

  He turned towards her, grinning. ‘And you will speak to me again, if I remain silent?’

  The implication was obvious and Lucy hesitated. ‘Why, Captain,’ she said, ‘if we should meet again by accident, I could hardly refuse to acknowledge the man who had saved my life, could I?’

  All of which filled Emma with alarm. There was a great deal more to the business of being a chaperon than she had realised. It was especially difficult if you were inexperienced and you had been given charge of a young lady who was as spirited as she was enchanting.

  ‘Then, of course, I would not dream of saying a word, you may depend on it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Emma said, knowing that Lucy might receive a scolding but the punishment awaiting her would be much, much worse. After yesterday’s reprimand she did not think she could bear it. ‘Here is the gate. We must leave you now, Captain.’

  ‘Yes, I am afraid it must be so,’ Lucy regretted, her eyes shining with mischief. ‘But I am sure we shall meet again. I go to Hookham’s Library every Wednesday afternoon and for a carriage ride on Thursdays.’

  ‘Then it is no more than au revoir,’ he said, touching his three-cornered hat to her.

  As soon as he had gone, Emma turned to Lucy. ‘Lucy, dear, I do not think you should have encouraged him. I’ll wager he will be at Hookham’s on Wednesday looking for you.’

  ‘I hope he may. He is so very handsome, don’t you think? And those dark eyes of his, were so…so bright with humour. And don’t you think he had the most shapely legs in those breeches?’

  ‘Lucy!’ Emma exclaimed, but the conversation was suddenly cut short as they became aware that someone was riding very close behind them. They turned in unison to see the groom on the cob, who had mysteriously appeared to see them home.

  ‘Martin, where did you spring from?’ Lucy demanded.

  ‘I couldn’t let you go out alone, Miss Lucy. His lordship would have had my…’ he paused to look for an alternative to the word he had been going to use. ‘…my stuffing, if I had.’

  ‘How long have you been behind us?’

  ‘If you mean, miss, did I see you being carried away by the stallion and me not able to do a thing about it, being so far behind, then yes I did, and I wish I had not, to be sure. What his lordship will say of it, I dare not think.’

  ‘Dominic is not to know, Martin, do you hear? He might scold me and ring a peal over you, but poor Emma would be given her marching orders. I forbid you to say a word, not one word, not about me riding astride, nor being bolted with, nor…’

  ‘Your rescuer, miss? I understand. But if he should ask…’

  ‘Now, why should he? We have been out for a gentle hack and there’s nothing more to it.’

  He sighed heavily as they turned down the lane to the mews at a sedate walk. He was very fond of the Marquis’s young sister and, like so many others, he could not refuse her. ‘Very well, Miss Lucy. I will keep silent, though what will come of it, I do not know.’

  Emma did not know either. If she had not been so concerned with her own problems, she might have remembered Dominic’s stricture to err on the side of caution and been more forceful with Lucy; if that were unsuccessful, she should have given up the idea of riding herself. Once again she had failed her charge; instead of finding a way out of her dilemma she had only deepened it.

  She devoutly hoped that Lord Besthorpe would never hear of the escapade because there would be no second reprieve. And then her disquiet over the ride was totally eclipsed by the arrival of her cousin that same afternoon.

  Dominic clattered down the companionway to Captain Greenaway’s cabin, feeling rather pleased with himself. The cargo of the Silken Maid had made an exceptionally good profit and the Captain was due to set sail again on the next tide with both a full load and funds enough to fill the hold for the return journey.

  They greeted each other cordially and spent a few minutes discussing the manifest, while the cargo of tin, tapestries and furniture was being loaded. The silver bullion, its most valuable cargo, had already been stowed under strict security. The brig would return with cotton, silks, spices, tobacco and indigo dye, besides precious gems.

  ‘Buy more diamonds like that big one, if you can,’ Dominic instructed the Captain, who also acted as his agent. ‘It was of excellent quality and the jeweller made a very fine job of cutting and setting it.’

  ‘The young lady, was no doubt, pleased with it?’

  ‘She isn’t in town, so she hasn’t seen it yet, but she will be here soon and then I shall find a suitable occasion to give it to her.’

  The captain smiled. ‘May I offer my felicitations?’

  ‘Indeed, you may, and I thank you.’ He paused. ‘There is something else I would like you to do when you reach Calcutta. I should like you to make enquiries about a Miss Emma Mountforest. She may still be living in India or she may not, but I should like to know her whereabouts. And while you are at it, ask about Miss Woodhill too.’

  ‘Miss Woodhill?’ the Captain queried in surprise. ‘You mean the young lady who travelled as a passenger with us?’

  ‘Yes. Not a word to anyone, mind. This is personal business and I do not want it noised abroad.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Dominic held out his hand. ‘Bon voyage, my friend.’

  He could rely on Greenaway and he might be able to shed some light on the mystery which had been plaguing him ever since he had first spoken to Miss Woodhill. It would be some time before the Captain returned with the answers; in the meantime, he would try and learn a little more from the lady herself, that is, if he could prevail upon her to stay under his roof. He had an uncomfortable feeling she might flee at any moment after the dressing down he had been obliged to give her. She had accepted it, though whether out of necessity he did not know.

  She had reminded him of a fawn, bright-eyed, wary, ready to bolt, and yet there had been pride and humour in her eyes rather than fear. She had been brought up not to be afraid, not to be cowed by a reprimand either.

  He was convinced of her courage later that evening when he entered the portals of White’s, intending to meet Bertie there and have a hand or two of cards. The first person he saw was Lord Clarence.

  The man was almost as portly as the Regent but not half as agreeable. Most of the time Dominic avoided him, but this evening he thought it prudent to listen to what he had to say. He did not want him going back to his wife with more tales of the unacceptable behaviour of the Besthorpes.

  ‘Clarence! How do you do?’

  ‘I am well, as you see.’ He looked about him for seats. Most had been taken by players and those still vacant were on tables where the cards were already being shuffled. ‘Can we adjourn for a spell? Want to speak to you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dominic said amiably, realising that his lordship was about to reinforce the unsolicited advice his wife had offered and he would have to appear grateful all over again. He led the way into another room, which the members used for smoking and reading newspapers. He indicated an armchair in a corner and sat himself in another. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m not one to beat about the bush, Cavenham, as you well know,’ he said, pulling a snuff box from his pocket and taking a pinch. ‘Thing is, wouldn’t want you to find yourself in a coil for want of a word in your ear.’ He put the snuff to his nostril, took a deep sniff and immediately set to sneezing so hard, Dominic pulled away out of reach.

  ‘Very good of you, to be sure,’ he murmured, wondering what was coming.

  ‘Thing is,’ the older man continued. ‘Was out early the other morning. Saw you sister and that article she seems always to have with her these days…’

  ‘Miss Woodhill is Lucy’s companion, my lord, not an article.’

  ‘Female, is it? I
could have sworn she was the other gender, at least before I got close enough to realise my mistake. Riding astride she was. In breeches.’

  ‘She was dressed as a man?’ Even the usually placid Dominic was taken aback by this.

  ‘No, course not. Skirts on top. But she was astride, no doubt of it, and a bruising rider she is too. Galloped the whole length of the Row and before you say the horse had bolted with her, it had not, for she brought it up as easy as you please.’

  Dominic suppressed a smile; he would have liked to witness that, but he wondered how many others had seen it. ‘There is only one side saddle in the stables, my lord,’ he said, thinking quickly. ‘I had been meaning to purchase another for Miss Woodhill, but I have no doubt the young ladies were too impatient to wait. It can have done no harm.’

  ‘On the contrary, it could have done a great deal of harm. I was astonished to see the two of them change horses. Your sister, sir, is evidently not used to a man’s saddle. The horse bolted with her.’

  Dominic, who had been sitting back in his chair perfectly relaxed, sat forward sharply. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You may ask, sir. The companion went after her but I could not see anything but a tragedy about to happen, and set off myself, but I was a long way off and before I reached them, the young lady was saved by the intervention of a naval officer, who had seen all.’

  ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘No, the city is full of officers on half pay. But if you wish, I could make enquiries.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Dominic said. ‘I am much obliged to you, but I shall find him to thank him myself.’

  ‘It’s that gel you should be thinking about. Not a suitable companion for a well-brought-up young lady. Not suitable at all. Can’t think why you took her on.’

  Dominic did not know the answer to that either, but he had no intention of admitting it. ‘Miss Woodhill is a distant relative—her father and mine were cousins,’ he said. ‘I promised her papa before he died that I would look out for her. Couldn’t go back on my word, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. She has a home with us for as long as she wants one.’

  ‘Your generosity will be your undoing, man. If you want your sister to take well, you had best be advised to dispense with the services of Miss Woodhill and find someone who will not lead her into scrapes.’

  ‘Oh, there is not the least need for you to trouble yourself,’ Dominic said, doing his best to remain pleasant, though if the other man had been his own age and not fat and fifty, he would undoubtedly have given him a facer. He had no intention of dismissing Miss Woodhill on the say-so of an old rake like Clarence, whose presence in the park at that hour was questionable. He’d wager the man was on the way home from a night spent with his mistress.

  ‘I am perfectly able to conduct the affairs of my own household. What happened in the park was an unfortunate occurrence to be sure, but no harm was done. A new side saddle will be procured this very day.’ With that he bade him good evening and left him.

  Why he had invented that story about Miss Woodhill being his relative, Dominic had no idea; it had slipped out so smoothly he had astonished himself. But what else could he have done? He had to protect Lucy and himself, too, for if Sophie heard of it, she would be sure to have something cutting to say on the matter. It was not that so much as the overwhelming desire to defend Miss Woodhill, which had motivated him. And, coupled with that, was the problem of what to do about her. Now he had told that hum about her being a relative, he had made it impossible to dismiss her.

  Neither did he want to. He wanted her to stay and it wasn’t just curiosity. He did not really care who she was or where she had come from. If Greenaway came back with information which discredited her, he would not want to hear it. Deep inside him, so deep he refused to acknowledge it, there was a feeling of unease about the future he had mapped out for himself.

  ‘Why so solemn?’ Bertie’s voice broke in on his thoughts. ‘You look as though you had lost a fortune and found a groat.’

  Dominic looked up. ‘Oh, it’s you, Bertie. Do you mind if we don’t play tonight? My mind’s not on it.’

  Bertie grinned. ‘Petticoat problems, eh? Better tell me all about it.’

  So Dominic did—at least, he outlined the facts. He did not tell his friend what his feelings were because he did not understand them himself, nor could he put them into words.

  ‘I am intrigued and exasperated,’ he said, making an effort to sound rational. ‘And what with Clarence and his beastly fat wife making innuendos and offering unwanted advice, I am at a stand. Even if I had been thinking of sending Miss Woodhill away, I wouldn’t now. They would be bound to think it was on account of their prompting.’

  ‘Then she will just have to stay, Dominic, old fellow. It don’t cost you above pony a year for her wages and board, does it?’

  ‘No, but she is making such a coil of looking after Lucy. It’s not that she means any harm; she simply does not understand that what was permissible in India is frowned on here.’

  ‘Sounds as if she’d been gulling you, my friend. In more ways than one.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Dominic asked sharply.

  ‘Well, she’s a pretty little thing, ain’t she?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a fool, Bertie. Such a thing never entered my head. I am betrothed to Sophie, as you well know. And Miss Woodhill is a lady of breeding.’

  ‘Lady? How do you know?’

  ‘I don’t for sure, but I do know there’s something smoky about her. I’ve asked Greenaway to make enquiries in Calcutta. That’s if she ever lived there at all.’

  ‘Oh, I do not doubt she did,’ Bertie said. ‘That brother of hers drops Indian words into his conversation like raindrops on the window. Dashed hard to understand him, half the time.’

  ‘Is he a problem too?’

  ‘No, long way off it. I can’t fault his work with the horses and he’s a crack rider. My head groom took me up to the gallops to watch him ride Nelson the last time I was home and I put the watch on him. It’s a winning combination, no doubt of it. I’m going to put him up at the July meeting and as both horse and jockey will be unknown, the odds will be good. Put some on him, Dominic.’

  ‘Perhaps I will, but it won’t solve my problem, will it?’

  ‘Can’t see that you’ve got a problem, old man,’ Bertie said cheerfully. ‘Sophie’s coming to town soon, ain’t she? She’ll take charge of both girls. Tell you all about the Indian side of her family, too.’

  ‘Yes, but she never told me there was an Indian side and if it is something she would rather not talk about, I would as lief not mention it.’

  ‘Don’t be a numbskull, man, it ain’t a secret. Her father had a younger brother went out to India over some scandal or other; killed someone. It was years ago, before either of us was out of leading reins, but I remember my parents talking about it. All forgotten now, I expect, which is why Sophie didn’t tell you. She may not even know of it.’

  Although the Mountforests were aristocracy and the Cosgroves mere yeomanry, they were near neighbours and had always been friends; Bertie had known Sophie since both were toddlers. It was Bertie who had introduced Sophie to Dominic during a college vacation when she had been staying at his home and they had ridden over to Cavenham. He had stood by with a half-amused, half-wry expression when it had become apparent that Dominic had fallen head over heels in love. It was a match that had been encouraged by their respective parents, especially Viscount Mountforest, who deplored his daughter seeing so much of the impecunious Bertie and needed to separate them.

  ‘Then I shall certainly not say anything,’ Dominic said. ‘But you are right about one thing. Sophie will take both girls in hand.’

  Emma and Lucy were sitting in the drawing room, making out the invitations to Lucy’s come-out ball which was to be held in two weeks’ time, at the beginning of the Season proper. As they wrote the cards in their best italic script, Lucy gave Emma a pertinent, often amusing, resu
mé of each of the proposed guests.

  ‘Lord and Lady Clarence,’ she said. ‘You have met her ladyship, so I need not describe her. Her husband is a bumble bee, busy, striped and with a sting in the tail. He’s always bustling about over nothing at all and he wears striped yellow and black waistcoats, perhaps because, in spite of being old, he fancies himself as a member of the Hellfire Club and that’s their uniform.’

  Emma was laughing and about to ask for an explanation of what the Hellfire Club was, when a footman announced Lady Mountforest and Miss Mountforest. Her laughter died on her lips.

  Although she had been half expecting it, Emma was so startled she dropped the cards she was holding and they scattered all over the carpet. She was on her hands and knees trying to retrieve them, when the ladies entered.

  ‘Lady Mountforest! Sophie!’ Lucy rose to greet the visitors. ‘We have been expecting you, but not knowing exactly when I am afraid Dominic is not at home to greet you.’

  By the end of this speech her ladyship and her daughter had advanced into the room and Emma, having retrieved the cards, was rising to her feet in front of them, acutely conscious of her old brown bombazine and its rather limp lace collar. Her ladyship was very tall and angular, made taller by the vertical green and mauve stripes of her taffeta gown complemented by a green satin turban embellished with several bronze-painted ostrich plumes. She seemed to be looking down at Emma from a great height.

  ‘My lady,’ Lucy said, making a neat little curtsy. ‘Please allow me to present Miss Emma Woodhill. She has lately come from India to be my maid and companion.’

  ‘From India?’ This from Sophie, who had done no more than glance at Emma before turning back to Lucy. ‘Why does everything seem to come from India these days?’

  ‘Does it? I did not know that.’ Emma, who had just completed a curtsy to Lady Mountforest, turned to her cousin who was almost as tall as her mother and several inches taller than Emma. Her hair beneath a fetching straw bonnet trimmed with rosebuds was fair, though there was a gleam of deeper gold here and there which might, in a darker person, have been auburn, as Emma’s was. Her eyes were lighter than Emma’s, being a pale blue; her mouth was well-defined and her teeth perfect. Her figure was willowy beneath the pelisse she wore. Its open skirt of white muslin fell straight from the ruched bust and revealed a blue satin slip.