“I doubt it; the clues are too confusing, even for a master.” Her candid declaration elicited a startled expression from Lord Donhill and Sylvia, realized her error.
But Donhill recouped for her. “Ah yes, your brother. I am sure he searched high and low. But perhaps a fresh perspective might serve.”
Sylvia let his supposition stand. “Perhaps. I hope that you will forgive my frankness, but I feel that I almost know you, Lord Donhill. Uncle often read your letters to me and it is almost as if you are something of an old friend.”
“Surely not an
old
friend,” David bantered, as he circled round her and bowed in answer to her elegant curtsy.
“Ancient,” Sylvia replied, a teasing light in her eyes, as they came together once more. “I had envisioned you as a grizzled old geezer, balding with a Moorish cap upon your head, the tassel waving to and fro as you pondered your moves.”
“And you, my girl, were described as a mere member of the infantry. A terror in plaits who prattled incessantly,” David declared, recalling Sir Miles’ brief mentions of his niece.
“And in your mind, I remained eternally in the nursery, just as you were my Uncle’s elderly, far-away crony,” she mused. “Strange, the elaborate pictures that our imaginations create from mere assumption, usually far better than the reality.”
“To the contrary, Miss Gabriel. I find myself preferring reality,” he said, surprising himself with his own sincerity. “An intelligent, beautiful woman is infinitely better than a chattering schoolroom minx.”
“Why, that is by far the best of compliments, milord,” Sylvia said, a smile banishing her serious expression. “No man has ever credited me with a brainbox before. Most males do not look beyond my face.”
“Then most men are fools, Miss Gabriel,” he said, looking into the depths of her eyes. The candlelight imbued them with an topaz light, making them glow with a lambent flame.
The tempo of the music increased and they changed partners. There was no further opportunity for conversation until David reluctantly brought Miss Gabriel back to her aunt’s side. It was easy to see that the girl’s evaluation of the situation was on the mark, for the look that her aunt gave her would have done credit to Medusa.
“I hope that you did not find Sylvia’s ways too forward, Lord Donhill,” Mrs. Gabriel said, favoring him with a pasteboard smile. “I fear my niece has not yet learned that her countrified conduct is inappropriate for town.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Gabriel, I found her irreproachable. Your tutelage does you credit,” David commented, larding on flattery liberally. “In fact, I would be grateful if your daughter would favor me with a dance.”
Mrs. Gabriel nodded graciously. Although his monstrous wager made Lord Donhill ineligible, he was well enough to dance with and, as Brummel was the man’s bosom friend; it would not do to give Donhill offense.
David was delighted to find that, except for her unfortunate nose, Caroline did not resemble her Mama in the least. Freed of Mrs. Gabriel’s crushing presence, the young woman chattered freely, flitting from topic to topic with the abandon of a conversational butterfly as the steps of the dance joined and parted them. It required little of David’s concentration to nod appropriately as he mulled over Sylvia Gabriel’s situation. He owed it to the memory of his late chess partner to solve the mystery and clear his name. Unfortunately, there were many who gave credit to the rumors that the late Sir Miles had frittered away his nephew and niece’s inheritance.
David found himself wondering about William Gabriel, Sylvia’s brother. Perhaps a visit to Oxford might be in order to determine what moves he had made to seek the treasure? After all, two brilliant chess-players pondering the same problem were far better than one. However, David was brought up short in his contemplations by a question from Miss Caroline Gabriel.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Gabriel,” he said, noting her look of annoyance.
“I vow, you are just like Sylvia, ever listening with half an ear,” she said with a pout. “I wondered if your friend Mr. Petrov ever attends Almack’s?”
“His aunt, the Countess Lieven, is a Patroness, so I suspect he does make an occasional appearance,” David replied. “However, I believe that he had an engagement for a chess game at White’s this evening.”
“Chess,” Caroline made the word a sigh. “How I hate that game, milord. It has ruined my dear cousin’s life. Oh my!” The girl bit her lip and her brow wrinkled in worry.
“Whatever is wrong, Miss Gabriel? Have I trod upon you, for I confess that I am not the best of dancers?” David asked.
“Oh no, milord. It is far worse, I fear. Lord Highslip has returned once again with your friend Brummel. It is too bad that the earl chooses to make a cake of himself, like this. Poor Sylvia, if he continues in this vein it is bound to add credence to the dreadful talk that has been making the rounds,” she said, shaking her head sadly.
Indeed, a glance confirmed that Highslip had returned to Miss Gabriel’s side and was behaving like a veritable moonling.
“Really,” Caroline said in exasperation. “One would think that the wretch would be ashamed to approach her, after all the damage that he has done.”
“Whatever do you mean, Miss Gabriel?” David asked, his full attention upon her now.
“I really ought not to say,” Caroline declared, pursing her lips. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “When Highslip found that all of Sylvia’s money was gone, he jilted her. It broke her heart and I fear that she will never recover from her unrequited love.”
Although David was surprised that Miss Gabriel would confide her cousin’s secrets to a near-stranger, he made no attempt to stem the flow of gossip.
“It is too bad of him to be making an exhibition of her and blowing her reputation to flinders. Especially when he made it clear last year that he had to marry to fill his purse,” Caroline whispered indignantly. “And after she had defied Uncle Miles’ wishes in the matter by continuing to entertain the earl’s suit! It was a bitter blow for Sylvia, I suppose, to find that Uncle Miles had been correct about Lord Highslip’s character all along.”
“And they were engaged?” David asked, encouraging further revelation.
“The banns had not been read, nor had announcements been made,” Caroline allowed. “Uncle Miles would not countenance it. He insisted that Sylvia should spend some time in London before making it all official. However, according to her Papa’s will my cousin was due to come into control of her affairs and Uncle could not have stopped her then.”
“Rather unusual, for an heiress to be given free rein so young,” David observed.
“Mama was mortified when she heard of it, but by then Uncle Miles was gone and so was Sylvia’s fortune.” Caroline gave Highslip a fulminating glance. “Only the family and Lord Highslip knew of the matter and so, when the earl cried off, we had thought it buried and done, but apparently, that is not the case. Lady Jersey just taxed me with it, and although I told her the truth of it, I suspect that she did not believe me. I know he is your friend, but he is the only one who could have spread this malice.”
The measure of the music required them to exchange partners and Caroline was brooding in glum silence by the time she returned to David’s side. Still, the girl had given him ample fare to chew. There was little doubt in Lord Donhill’s mind that Caroline Gabriel’s account of the affair was more faithful to truth than the earl’s. David’s regard for the dandy dropped from minimal to nil. Highslip had sought to place Sylvia Gabriel in the role of jilt, when it was he who had done her the injury.
After David returned Caroline to her Mama, he pondered his moves. Ambling about in a desultory manner, David caught snatches of whispers. Even seemingly favorable comments about Miss Gabriel were tinged with the green of jealousy. A hasty consultation with Brummel confirmed the worst. The story that Miss Gabriel had entertained Highslip’s suit then high-handedly spurned him was gaining wide circulation.
“I would like to do Highslip’s neckcloth up good and tight,” David declared.
Brummel shook his head. “Now, now, David. That would remedy nothing.”
“What can we do?” David asked.
“Very little, I am afraid,” Brummel admitted with a shrug. “There are far too many tabbies who are envious of Miss Gabriel’s looks. All we can attempt is to tell the true tale, but even then, I suspicion that the winds of gossip will not blow in her favor.”
“I fear we have done her no good, George. With such talk going about, I doubt that she will be able to find a husband as we had hoped,” David said looking mournfully at Sylvia. “I ask you, was there ever such a fool as Highslip? To jilt any female simply because she has lost her funds is contemptible, but to forsake a woman like Sylvia Gabriel is an act of sheer stupidity. Any man of intelligence would take her in a trice, even if she had only a shift to her name.” The thought of Sylvia in a shift flashed through David’s brain and the room grew suddenly warm.
Brummel smiled knowingly. “There is one way to teach the dog a lesson, David. Find her fortune and Highslip will be well-served for his perfidy.”
David grinned in understanding. “Bad enough to lose the girl, but if the fortune was there all along ... I vow it will send him into apoplexy. I shall do it!” he declared, pulling off his spectacles to polish them excitedly.
“Your linen,” Brummel reminded.
David looked shamefacedly at him. “Sorry, George. Shall I attempt to retie the thing?”
Brummel waved his hand in dismissal. “Might as well try to resurrect the dead,” he declared. “Tis too far-gone.”
David hurried off to speak to Sylvia regarding her Uncle’s will.
“Far-gone, indeed,” Brummel murmured softly. “I sincerely hope the lady plays chess.”
“Perhaps I ought to go back to Crown Beeches,” Sylvia said, putting aside her tambour frame and going to the window. A curtain of rain fell, pounding in heavy drops against the pane. “The whispers have gotten worse, I fear. The chill looks that I get almost make me shiver.”
“On the contrary, Syl,” Caroline said, leafing idly through Ackermann’s fashion plates. “You get the warmest of looks from the male contingent. ‘Tis just the females that wish you to China or someplace equally distant. There are none that hold a candle to you, cousin.”
Sylvia looked at Caroline sharply, but could detect no trace of resentment upon her face or in her voice.
“I am no beauty. I know that,” Caroline said with a smile. “But I am well enough to look upon past the nose.”
“Mr. Petrov seems to think so,” Sylvia said, returning to sit beside her cousin.
“Pooh, he thinks of nothing but his chessboard,” Caroline declared, nonetheless, she blushed thinking of the Russian and his dark mournful eyes.
“Not when he called the other day,” Sylvia pointed out. “He was looking at you all the while.”
“You know full well that he only accompanied Lord Donhill to discuss Uncle’s will. ‘Tis only the chess puzzle that fascinates him, I fear, not my
beau yeux
.” Caroline sighed. “He follows Lord Donhill like the tail to a hound.”
“Unfortunately, we had no chance to talk of the will, the parlor was so crowded,” Sylvia said glumly.
“With all your suitors,” Caroline said, laughingly.
“Do not call them so, please.” Sylvia shook her head.
In a teasing voice, Caroline ticked off the names on her fingers. “Lord Entshaw seemed quite taken with you and I thought Mr. Colber’s eyes would quite pop out of his head.”
“Lord Entshaw, puts me in mind of a balding slug, fifty if he is a day, with hands that are forever straying. Your Mama was in alt at his condescension, for slug though he may be, he is a
titled
slug.” Sylvia grimaced. “As for Mr. Colber, his staring is but a trifle compared to Hugo’s gaze. I vow, last night I could feel his eyes following me about the room. Everyone could not help but remark it. It was most discomfiting. I should leave, Caro.”
“You cannot let Lord Highslip chase you from town, Syl,” Caroline said, putting her magazine down to take her cousin’s hand. “I vow if it were not so monstrous annoying, it would be quite romantic. It seems if Highslip cannot have you, he seeks to assure that no one else will.”
Sylvia looked at the girl in surprise. Although Caroline was not known for the depths of her perception, Sylvia examined her cousin’s pronouncement with growing concern. During Hugo’s courtship, Sylvia had accounted his excessive jealousy as a sign of his regard, now she wondered if Caro’s conjecture had hit the mark. Certainly, it would explain the earl’s
outré
behavior as well as the rumors that had suddenly become rife. As much as Aunt Ruby disliked her, Sylvia could not credit that the woman would deliberately spread such information that would cast such serious aspersions upon a member of her own family.
Even in his youth, Highslip had always been uncommonly possessive, issuing dire warnings about trespassing upon Highslip land to the local children, often enforcing his rules with his fists, Sylvia remembered. From the recesses of memory, she dredged up an incident, recollected, in the main, because of the great agitation that it had caused Uncle Miles. It had occurred soon before she and Will had come to Crown Beeches. Even then, Hugo’s family had been floating down the River Tick. In an effort at economy, Hugo’s father had sold a hunter, one that his son had greatly prized, to Sylvia’s uncle. However, before the horse could be sent to its new owner, Hugo rode off upon it, neck or nothing, bringing the animal back utterly ruined. The hunter had to be put down.
Back then, she had dismissed the tale as an overblown rumor, but now, Sylvia felt a cold finger of fear running up her spine. Unfortunately, if Hugo had deliberately set out to ruin her chances, there was little she could do. “What rubbish,” Sylvia declared, as much to herself as to her cousin. “It sounds like the plot to one of those Minerva Press novels that you devour, Caro.”
The girl grinned sheepishly. “Actually, it is from
The Viscount’s Vengeance.
Edward - he’s the hero - attempts to thwart the heroine’s marriage to an Italian nobleman who is really a loathsome fiend. Would you care to read it?”