Lucasta (9 page)

When she was informed that the Duchess of Filwood was coming to the assembly with the express intention of
meeting
her, Lady Symonds found herself in a dilemma. On the one hand she wanted to distance herself from the unsavoury events surrounding Lord Kennington: on the other, the duchess was influential in high circles and could prove very useful in securing a brilliant alliance for Camilla, something that might be necessary if the viscount should be found guilty. Therefore, she girded herself in her finest
straw-coloured
lustring and sallied forth to do her duty.

Very few of the gowns ordered for Lucasta had arrived and she had to decide between the altered tawny silk gown of her mother’s, or a green sacque-back robe over
embroidered
cream petticoats. She chose the green. It was not her favourite, but her mama had assured her when she purchased it that the colour accentuated her flawless skin and she was honest enough to admit that she wanted to look her best for Lord Kennington. However, as she joined her mother and sister in the entrance hall of Lymington House she glanced at herself critically in one of the large,
gilt-framed
mirrors and sighed. What did it matter what she
wore when Camilla was looking radiant in celestial blue satin and gauze?

The ballroom was already crowded when Lady Symonds and her daughters arrived but they were by no means the last and, as the rooms filled, so the laughter and chattering grew ever louder, which made the sudden lull all the more dramatic when the Duchess of Filwood arrived with Lord Kennington. Lucasta wanted to laugh aloud at the shocked faces around her. The duchess sailed in on the viscount’s arm, her hair dressed high in an elaborate coiffure and
ornamented
with nodding ostrich plumes. At her side was the viscount, magnificent in black velvet trimmed with gold and enlivened at the throat and wrists by a froth of snow-white lace. She had to admire him: in the momentary silence he raised his quizzing glass and looked around with just a touch of hauteur on his lean, handsome features. Gradually the noise began again, conversations were taken up, groups moved off to the ballroom and several people hurried forward to greet the duchess. All was as it should be.

It was not long before Lord Kennington escorted the duchess across to Lady Symonds. He performed the
introductions
smoothly. The duchess smiled, exchanged a few words with Lady Symonds then beckoned Camilla to come forward.

‘Well, Kennington, you did not lie when you told me Miss Camilla was a beauty. No need to colour up, my dear: you will find I always speak my mind. How are you enjoying your first season?’

‘Very much, if it please Your Grace.’ Camilla curtseyed and modestly lowered her eyes.

‘Hmm. I am sure you never lack for partners.’

‘Indeed, Your Grace, everyone has been most kind,’ put in
Lady Symonds. ‘When we first arrived in Town we had but a few acquaintances but that is all changed now. There are so many invitations we are rarely at home, and the season proper has not yet begun.’

The duchess agreed, complimented Lady Symonds upon her handsome daughters and prepared to move away, promising to call for Miss Symonds in her carriage at the fashionable hour the following day. Lucasta was still reeling in admiration at the duchess’s tactics when she heard the viscount asking Camilla to stand up with him. Camilla blushed and plied her fan.

‘I am very sorry – I did not expect – that is, I am engaged for every – I mean, I do have one country dance later, if you should be free?’

Lucasta’s jaw clenched in anger. She saw the cold, closed look descend upon the viscount’s face as he bowed and turned away. She curled her hands around the sticks of her closed fan, her nails digging into the palms: Camilla’s
behaviour
had roused her anger, but added to that was
disappointment
that Adam had not asked her to dance with him. It was a very lowering to discover that she would gladly have accepted second best.

Lord Kennington did not approach them again until he came to claim his country dance, but before he led Camilla away he turned to Lucasta.

‘Miss Symonds, my godmother begs for the pleasure of your company at supper.’

‘I would be delighted, my lord,’ she replied quickly,
without
reference to her mother, standing cold and silent beside her.

He bowed.

‘Then I hope you will permit me to escort you to her, when this dance is ended.’

‘You are determined to flout me,’ hissed Lady Symonds, as Lord Kennington moved off.

‘I am merely trying to make up for your cold manner, ma’am,’ flashed Lucasta. ‘It would not be so bad if you had not courted his favour so assiduously at Oaklands.’

She saw the angry flush mounting her mother’s cheeks. Lady Symonds hunched her shoulder and turned away,
leaving
Lucasta alone to watch the dancing. She found little to amuse her: Camilla was clearly uncomfortable in the viscount’s company, avoiding his glance and barely speaking a word when the dance brought them together. Such was her dismay that Lucasta felt obliged to comment as Lord Kennington led her off to the supper room.

‘You must forgive my sister, sir. When we arrived tonight she was besieged by gentlemen, begging her to dance with them.’

‘You need not apologize: I understand perfectly.’

Lucasta winced at his cold tone.

‘She is very young, my lord. I fear the adulation she has received since coming to Town has gone to her head.’ When he did not reply she added quietly, ‘She truly was engaged for every dance, you know.’

He relaxed slightly and gave her a wry smile.

‘And you have not been far behind her: you, too, have been on the dance floor most of the evening.’

‘Yes, it is very fortunate that the gentlemen who fail to secure my sister feel obliged to take me instead.’

‘You are too hard on yourself, Miss Symonds, some may be dazzled initially by your sister’s beauty, but it should not take a discerning man very long to realize your worth.’

She gave a little gasp.

‘Oh, pray do not think I was looking for a compliment, my lord.’

He pressed her fingers, lying snug upon his velvet sleeve.

‘I would never think that of you, Lucasta.’

She was inordinately pleased at his words and as they reached the duchess’s table her warm greeting added even more to her pleasure although her spirits faltered a little when she saw Camilla enter the room upon the arm of a fashionable young gentleman. She quickly looked away and began to chatter, hoping that her companions would not notice Camilla’s arrival but the viscount had already seen her.

‘Your sister does not lack for admirers, Miss Symonds. She is much more comfortable with that young buck than with such a disreputable person as myself.’

‘Pray do not be angry with her, sir.’

‘No indeed, Adam,’ said the duchess. ‘Miss Camilla is not yet sure of her place in society. Allow her a little time to find her feet, my boy.’

‘She knows you are innocent of the charges against you,’ said Lucasta in a low voice. He looked across the table at her, a faint cynical twist to his smile that wrenched at her heart and made her add in a fierce undervoice, ‘We shall find the real killers, Adam. We shall find them, then everyone will know that you are innocent!’

Lucasta was accompanying Lord Kennington and the duchess out of the supper room when an elderly gentleman entered. Upon seeing them he stopped, effectively blocking the doorway.

‘Oh lord,’ muttered the viscount. ‘General Bradfield, Sir Talbot’s uncle.’

‘Hush now,’ replied the duchess quietly. She continued towards the door. ‘Good evening Nicholas.’

The old man did not bow, but glared at them from beneath shaggy brows. Despite his age his bearing was very upright and he cut an impressive figure as he stood before them.

‘So, Tabitha, it has come this, that your godson has been fit to despatch my nephew.’

‘Pray do not talk such nonsense, Nicholas. We both know Kennington is no murderer.’

‘Well, we shall see, we shall see.’

The duchess tapped her cane on the floor.

‘You are in the way, Nicholas. Pray stand aside, sir!’

The general looked around and with a smothered oath he moved away from the door, shaking his stick at the
interested
crowd, that had gathered behind him. When the crowd had dispersed, he fixed his fierce gaze upon the viscount.

‘Where, sir, are the Bradfield emeralds?’

‘I really have no idea. My rooms and my … person have been searched, so you must be aware that I do not have them.’

Lucasta’s hand was on Adam’s arm, and instinctively her grip tightened as she heard the anger in his voice.

‘Well, we shall know soon enough,’ barked the general. ‘I have set my own men on to it, and I’ve offered a reward of a hundred guineas for information – what do you think of that?’

‘I hope it will help us to find the real culprits,’ replied the duchess.

‘Oh you may be sure it will. I’ve put the word about pretty widely – all the jewellers in London will be on their guard and I have contacts in the rookeries, too: they will not be able to sell a single gem without word getting back to me.’

‘One would think, General,’ mused the duchess, ‘that you are more concerned with recovering the emeralds than
finding
your nephew’s killer.’

‘What’s that?’ Beneath its whiskers the old man’s face grew red. ‘Well, of course I want to find Talbot’s murderer! Not that I was surprised when I heard the news. Talbot was always – his manner of living – well, never mind that!’ He glared at the viscount again. ‘If you say you didn’t do it, Kennington, then I want to believe you, but it all comes down to the evidence, my boy, the evidence.’

With a curt nod he strode away, snarling at anyone who chanced in his way.

Lucasta glanced around.

‘Dear ma’am,’ she murmured, aghast, ‘so many people were listening! It will be all over Town tomorrow.’

‘Perfect,’ smiled the duchess. ‘I may think Nicholas an old fool, but the fact that he is inclined to believe Adam innocent
will weigh with many. Now, my dear, we must return you to your mama before she thinks you have been thoroughly corrupted.’

When the duchess’s carriage pulled up in Sophia Street the following afternoon Lucasta hurried out, full of optimism. The duchess was wrapped up in velvet and furs against the chill spring air and she looked concerned as Lucasta was handed up.

‘My dear, do you have nothing warmer to put on? Your pelisse looks dreadfully thin for an open carriage.’

‘It is finest English wool, Your Grace and I have a warm gown beneath it.’

‘Well you shall have a rug across your knees.’ She signalled to the footman to perform this service. ‘It would, of course, be much warmer to be in a closed carriage but we must see and be seen in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour.’

‘It would also be more private,’ observed Lucasta, glancing at the liveried back of the coachman.

‘It would, of course, although I pay my people very well and in return I demand their total discretion. Besides, I have nothing to say that cannot be overheard.’ She sighed. ‘Unfortunately, Miss Symonds, there is very little to tell you. My lawyer informs me that he has been expressly warned not to talk to the valet. It seems the man fears that my godson will try to intimidate him.’

‘But that is monstrous!’

‘Of course it is, but there is nothing to be done. Just as there is nothing to be done about the fellow who is following us.’

Lucasta twisted round and observed a solitary rider
trotting
along behind them.

‘He is in General Bradfield’s pay,’ explained the duchess.
‘A man has also been assigned to follow Kennington. Oh, you need not look so dismayed, my dear, one grows accustomed. However, it does restrict Adam: he wanted to go back to Hansford Common to find the footpads who accosted you, but now that is impossible. I think I must employ a
thief-taker
of my own.’

‘Do you think the general will have me followed too?’ asked Lucasta, a thoughtful crease on her brow.

‘Lord, I hope not! If he means to set a fellow on every one of my acquaintance, poor Nicholas will be a pauper by the end of the week.’ She broke off as they turned into Rotten Row. There were dozens of carriages to be seen and Lucasta was surprised when the duchess observed that it was exceedingly quiet. ‘Of course it is not yet April: at the height of the season one is reduced to a snail’s pace. Oh – look, there is Lady Spencer and her daughters. Pull up, Shankster, I will speak with the countess.’

‘Well, Lucasta, I hope you enjoyed your drive with the duchess?’

‘Yes, Mama, I did, thank you.’

Unusually, Lady Symonds was dining at home with her daughters and there was nothing to distract her from Lucasta’s inconsiderate behaviour.

‘I should very much like to drive in Hyde Park,’ remarked Camilla, helping herself to buttered parsnips. ‘Everyone of fashion does so.’

‘Indeed they do,’ agreed Lucasta. ‘In one short drive we saw the duchess of Devonshire with her mama and her sister, Lady Bessborough. And when we drove along Piccadilly, the Duke of Queensberry was just stepping out of his house.’

Lady Symonds’ knife clattered on to her plate.

‘Merciful heavens, did the duchess introduce you to all of them?’

‘Yes,’ replied Lucasta, all wide-eyed innocence. ‘Her grace is acquainted with everyone.’

‘You delight in vexing me,’ retorted her mama,
tight-lipped
. ‘Is it not enough that you consort with murderers, you must also ally yourself with the Devonshire set?’

‘And March,’ murmured Lucasta. ‘The Duke of Queensberry was most friendly.’

‘Lucasta,’ breathed Camilla, shocked, ‘even I know better than to encourage that rake.’

‘So too do I,’ said Lucasta, a laugh trembling in her voice, ‘But I could not forbear to tease you both a little. I am very sorry,’ she ended contritely.

‘But the Devonshires,’ sighed Camilla, ‘If we were to become part of that set …’

‘We should need a great deal more money to spend,’ retorted Lady Symonds. ‘Not but what a little more
investment
might not pay dividends, for it would put Camilla into the way of many more eligible suitors. And you too, Lucasta.’

‘Thank you, Mama, but I have no wish to join you in this. I am already going abroad a great deal more than I would wish.’

‘You would be best to get yourself a husband and have done with it.’ put in Camilla. ‘It is plain from Papa’s letter that he does not want you at home.’

Lucasta looked up. ‘What is this?’

Lady Symonds dabbed at her lips with her napkin.

‘I received a letter today, from Oakfields. It arrived while you were out.’

‘Papa says you completely misunderstood the situation,’ said Camilla. ‘Squire Woodcote did intend to propose but there was not the least idea of coercion.’

Lucasta stared at her mother.

‘And you believe that?’

Lady Symonds looked uncomfortable.

‘You would not have me accuse your father of telling lies, I am sure.’

Lucasta felt slightly sick.

‘You would not send me back, Mama.’

‘No, no, of course not. Although your father assures me Square Woodcote is now looking elsewhere for a bride. But I shall write again to your papa and tell him that now you are here I had as well keep you with me. And if we can find you a husband, all the better.’

‘You could come with us to Almack’s,’ suggested Camilla. ‘We would wait for you, if you wanted to change your gown.’

But on this point Lucasta was adamant and she saw her mother and sister off before retiring to the drawing-room with her book. She had visited the assembly rooms last year during her own short come-out and had not enjoyed it. She had felt very much like a prize sow dragged out for
inspection
– no wonder Almack’s was known as the Marriage Mart. But there was another reason why she did not venture out that evening: she was expecting a visit from Jacob Potts.