The Marriage Trap (11 page)

Cardvale did not remain long in his club. There were too many interruptions, too many acquaintances eager to hear about Paris and the theft of the diamonds. All he wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts.

He walked for a time, through St. James's Park then along the riverbank, uncaring of the cold or the chill wind whipping at his coat. By chance, he came to a livery stable. He knew then where he wanted to be. Though he had horses in his own stables nearby, he rented a mount and set out for Hampstead. This way, Dorothea need never know where he'd been.

The cottage had been in his family for generations. “Cottage” didn't do it justice. It was a two-story brick building, unpretentious but pleasing in its proportions, set in an acre of grounds. In the summer, the gardens would burst into bloom and the air would be fragrant with the scent of honeysuckle, roses, lilacs, and flowers he could not name. On this wintry day, the bare branches and black earth seemed to reflect the barrenness of his own life.

After stabling his horse, he entered by the front door. There were no servants. The caretaker was a man from the village who kept an eye on the place and came in every other day to check on things. Everything looked clean and tidy, at least to Cardvale's uncritical eye. Unlike his wife, he was not troubled by a little dust.

This was the cottage he had offered Ellie just before she left Paris. It was a house that would suit a doctor's family or a vicar's family and was more to his taste than the palatial grandeur of Broadview, the family seat in Hampshire. That he preferred this house should have told him, he thought, something about the kind of girl he should have chosen to be his wife. One made choices and one paid the consequences.

The fire was set in the grate in the front parlor. He lit it after procuring a glass of brandy, then pulled a chair close to the fire and let his thoughts drift.

It occurred to him that he should sell the house. He had no use for it now. There were no younger brothers to provide for, no sisters and no children. But the thought of selling it was almost frightening. The house was his sanctuary.

He dwelled on that thought and his reflections brought him to a decision. He wouldn't sell the house. He would open it up and find someone congenial to share it with.

His thoughts shifted to Ellie. For his peace of mind, something would have to be done about her.

All that Sir Charles could tell Jack before he left Paris was that Ellie kept on rooms in a lodging house in Henrietta Street and whenever she was between jobs, that was where she stayed. That wasn't far out of his way, thought Jack, because Henrietta Street was on one side of the Oxford Road, and Park Street, where his town house was located, was on the other. He could walk the distance in less than thirty minutes.

He might have chosen to go on to Oxford, no great distance from town, to talk to her brother first, but on thinking it over, he decided that that would only raise Ellie's hackles or, at the very least, alarm her. It would be better for all concerned if he won her over so that she would be on his side when he talked to her brother. She must see, or be made to see, that Robbie had to clear his name.

Win Ellie over? He had no idea how he was going to do that, in spite of Sir Charles's confidence in his powers of persuasion. If charm and sincerity didn't work, he might be forced to resort to threats. But that had never worked with her in the past. Why would it be different now?

His thoughts were fanciful, but at least they amused him on the five-hour drive from Dover.

He made it to London in good time, and arrived in Park Street just as his grandmother and his half sister, Caro, were returning from a trip to the shops. He was surprised to see them, because they were supposed to be fixed in the country until the London season got under way in another month. This was an event that Caro was looking forward to, having just turned seventeen, and she would be making her comeout, with all its attendant parties and balls. He wondered whether the anticipation had been too much for her to contain, or whether there was another reason for this change of plan.

After the customary kisses and greetings, he asked about Frances, his late brother's widow, and learned that she was visiting her parents in Wales and wasn't expected to return for another fortnight. This was a great relief. Frances in town, especially during the season, was a trial. She expected him to dance attendance on her at every event.

As soon as the coats and packages were put away, his grandmother led the way to her private parlor where a cheery fire was burning in the grate. The dowager told the footman to bring the tea tray, and as soon as he'd shut the door on them, Caro weighed right in.

Dark eyes glinting, she said in her mischievous way, “Well, where is the bride? Oh, don't say you are still a bachelor! A lady's maid! That's just what this family needs!”

Jack's smile was a tad thin. “It never ceases to amaze me how gently bred ladies delight in wallowing in slime. I should have washed your mouth out more often when you were a child.”

“That's no answer!” protested Caro.

His grandmother, whom he usually counted on to keep Caro in check, was gazing at him with the same avid interest as his sister.

Jack's lids lowered. “So, that's why you've come up to town, to quiz me about an unfortunate incident that's been blown out of proportion. What have you heard?”

His grandmother answered. “That you and Ellie Brans-Hill spent the night in your rooms at the Palais Royal.”

“I rescued her from a riot.” One shoulder rose in a negligent shrug. “That's all there was to it.”

Caro said, “Well, at least you had the good sense not to offer for the woman.”

There was something in Caro's voice, something about her words, that did not sit right with Jack. “Let me correct any misunderstanding that may have arisen. Miss Brans-Hill is not a lady's maid but a respectable lady's companion.”

Caro pounced on that. “If she is respectable, what was she doing at the Palais Royal when she should have been in her bed?”

“Caro!” remonstrated the dowager. “You must not believe everything your friends tell you. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation for this storm in a teacup.” To Jack she said, “Caro's friend is with her parents in Paris right now, you know, the Courtney girl? That's how your sister knows so much. I'm sure most of it is nonsense and you can clear up any misunderstanding.”

“Thank you,” said Jack, “but I have nothing more to say except that the reason you need not wish me happy is that the lady would not have me at any price.”

The dowager and Caro were shocked into silence. Her ladyship recovered first. Her voice was as dry as scorched paper. “I hope that was a lesson to you! There are, thank the Lord, a few women who have more in their heads than the desire for wealth and position. It's no more than I would expect of Ellie. Even as a girl she was sensitive to any act of condescension. I don't say it's a good thing, but—”

Caro burst out, “Grandmamma, are you saying you
know
the girl?”

The dowager's lips flattened for a moment, then she smiled. “I knew her before she was born, and that's all you're going to get out of me until I have a chance to talk to Jack. Caro, you must have things to do to get ready for tonight?” To Jack, she elaborated, “I'm hosting a musicale for a few of Caro's close friends and their parents. My friends will be there, too. This will be something of a test for your sister, to see how she acquits herself among so many distinguished people. General Baird will be there and—”

“General Baird,” said Caro with feeling, “is an old fogy. All he ever talks about are battles. I never know what to say to him.”

“Try flirting with him,” replied her brother unsympathetically. “That always works with old fogies like me.”

Her ladyship said, “I hope you'll join us tonight, Jack?”

“Unfortunately,” he said, glad of a genuine excuse to avoid the boredom of listening to Caro and her friends sing and play the evening away, “I shall be otherwise engaged.”

“With Miss Brans-Hill?” Caro enquired coyly.

“Caro!” Her ladyship pointed to the door. “At once.”

With a soulful sigh, Caro got to her feet. “There's more than one way to skin a cat,” she said darkly, and left the room just as the footman returned with the tea tray.

“Set it down here, Simpson,” said the dowager.

As his grandmother poured the tea, Jack relaxed against the back of his chair and studied her. He thought that, for a woman approaching her eightieth birthday, she looked remarkably youthful. As she was the first to admit, however, her girlish complexion was an illusion and came from the pots and bottles on her dressing table. But no art supplied the intelligence in her vivid blue eyes or her supple frame. The dowager believed in keeping both her mind and body active to stave off old age and, in her case, it seemed to work.

He automatically accepted the cup and saucer she offered him. Though he wasn't partial to tea, the ritual was familiar and brought back many happy memories. He had often shared his grandmother's tea tray when he was a boy. Her rooms had always seemed warmer than any room in the house, a place of refuge where he could speak his mind without fear of scorn being heaped on him. He used to think that Grandmamma was his mother's mother, and so unlike his father that even yet he could detect no resemblance, either in looks or manner.

When his mother died, Grandmother had moved into the ancestral home to fill the void, but not for long. His father remarried, a cold woman made in his own image, and any warmth in the house quietly evaporated. They had a daughter, Caroline, but her birth hardly made a ripple on his father's life. He, Jack, was in much the same case as Caro, except that he came under a harsher discipline. But the harshest discipline of all was reserved for the firstborn, Jack's brother, Cedric.

“What are you thinking?” asked the dowager.

“What?”

“You looked quite grim for a moment there.”

“I was thinking of Cedric.” He took a sip of tea. “I went to war and came home unscathed. It hardly seems fair.”

“Cedric was never very strong. He had a weak chest, just like your mother. In fact, he was like your mother in many ways.” A fleeting smile touched the dowager's lips. “He tried so hard to be what your father wanted. It never works, you know. You can't change nature.”

Her blue eyes dimmed and she gave a soft sigh. Looking up, she went on, “Your father was his own worst enemy. He was a lonely man and had no one to blame but himself. But enough of this. I know you did not come into my parlor to satisfy
my
curiosity. So, what is it you want to know?”

No fool, Grandmother Rigg. He couldn't help smiling. “I want to know as much as you can tell me about Ellie Brans-Hill and her family. And don't get your hopes up, Grandmamma. I didn't tell Caro everything. Not only will Ellie not have me at any price, but the feeling is mutual.”

The dowager's look sharpened. “You wouldn't care to elaborate on that remark?”

“No, I would not!”

“I wouldn't like to think Ellie's feelings were hurt.”

“Grandmamma . . .”

“Oh, very well. But at least you can tell me why you want to know. I mean, if you're not going to marry the girl, why bother?”

He didn't want to mention Robbie's troubles, so he told her as much of the truth as he thought was prudent. “I feel obligated to make sure that she doesn't suffer hardship because of that foolish adventure.” His grandmother looked surprised, so he explained. “For old time's sake, you might say.”

“What will you do?” The dowager took a mouthful of tea.

“I shall call on her this afternoon.”

And promptly choked on it.

“If I can discover where her lodgings are.”

When she could find her breath, her ladyship said irritably, “That won't help, just the reverse. I'm delighted to see that you have a conscience, but let someone else act for you, for Ellie's sake. It's all right for a man. The rules don't apply to him. But a woman's reputation must be blameless, and Ellie's reputation is already tarnished, except to those who know her.”

The point was well taken, but there was no way he could get out of it, even if he wanted to, which he did not. His mission was to take Robbie Brans-Hill under his protection until Sir Charles had time to investigate the case. Ellie's help was crucial.

“I'll be discreet,” he replied.

She gave him a look that told him his credit had fallen by several notches in her estimation, then she gazed into space as she gathered her thoughts. “What can I tell you about Ellie and her family? Not a great deal. You should know them as well as anyone. You stayed with them for a summer, did you not?”

“Whose idea was that?”

“Mine, of course. Your father was looking for someone to tutor you, and I suggested Dr. Brans-Hill, and not only because of his reputation as a scholar. I thought it would do you good to get away from your father and stepmother for a while. Cedric was different. He never argued or defied your father.”

Jack remembered those days very well, but only when someone brought them to his attention. He'd done too much in his life to give those painful memories more than a passing nod.

“You once told me that the Brans-Hills were all fey,” he said.

“Did I? Well, I must have meant it as a compliment. I thought you enjoyed your time at the vicarage.”

“I did.”

“And your father was happy with the result. Dr. Brans-Hill gave you the confidence to master Greek and Latin grammar. He said that that was all you needed—confidence in your own ability.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that what gave him the will to master Greek and Latin grammar was the strong desire to put a know-everything, precocious chit in her place.

There was a spark of speculation in his grandmother's eyes, so he replied easily, “Yes. Brans-Hill was a remarkable man. What happened to him?”

“He died when Ellie turned twenty. I remember it well because I was at his funeral. Her mother died some years before. Now, that
was
a shock, because Mrs. Brans-Hill was so much younger than her husband. He married late in life, you see. Shortly after his death, Ellie and her brother went to live with a distant cousin on her mother's side, Lord Cardvale. He is a sad case, bullied first by his mother and now by his dragon of a wife. Ellie didn't stay there long.”

“Your memory is very sharp.”

“Yes, for an old fogy, I do very well.”

Jack laughed. “What about the son? What can you tell me about him?”

“Robert? Not very much. He was a well-mannered child, but not so clever as his sister. Ellie is devoted to him, or so I hear. In fact, she spoils him.”

“Grandmamma, you're a fount of information. How can you possibly know all this?”

She gave a tiny shrug. “I have friends with whom I keep up a correspondence. You may remember Agatha Lyle? Her youngest grandson attends Oxford and knows Robbie quite well. Then there's Lady Elizabeth Stuart, the ambassador's wife. She keeps me abreast of the latest news, too.”

Jack's interest sharpened. “Lady Elizabeth knows Ellie?”

“Through Sir Charles. Ellie's father was his godfather and took a keen interest in him when he was a boy. In fact, they were very close. I think he would do more for Ellie and her brother, but she's too proud to accept charity.”

That explained a point that had been puzzling him. Now he understood why Sir Charles took such a keen interest in the Brans-Hills.