Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (30 page)

“Thank you, Anthony,” she said, moving to stand behind Edwin. Placing one hand on each shoulder, she began to massage the tense muscles. He sighed blissfully.

“I have another length of a different pattern, which I had intended for Elizabeth. But in view of what you told me before, I am not sure it would be wise to give it to her,” Sir Anthony commented sadly.

“Why?” said Edwin. “Is she possessed of greater moral fibre than my wife? Ouch!” Caroline dug her thumb hard into the side of his neck.

“No, you fool,” she said. “To be honest, whilst I’m sure Elizabeth would love such a present, I doubt she would appreciate its value. I have never met a woman so disinterested in fashion. She would have no idea that it cannot be obtained in such quantity by legal means, either. But her suitor would definitely understand and would probably jump to the wrong conclusion.”

“What? You think that Lord Daniel would see
Anthony
as a threat? Ha!” Caroline paused in her massaging to raise her eyes to heaven, and Edwin realised his mistake. “Oh, I’m sorry, old fellow,” he said. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It’s been a long day and...”

“Quite all right, no offence taken. I agree. Lord Daniel is most attractive, and titled as well. And I have heard nothing bad about him as regards his conduct towards the ladies,” Sir Anthony said. “I would be a very poor prospect next to him.”

He sounded almost wistful, and Edwin glanced up at Caroline. Clearly they were thinking the same thing.

“You like her, don’t you, Anthony?” Edwin ventured.

The baronet, who had been obviously thinking of other things, jumped slightly.

“Yes,” he said frankly. “Not romantically, of course,” he amended quickly. “I am not interested in marriage. To anyone. God, no. Hideous thought.” He glanced up at his friends. Twin looks of scepticism greeted him. They had never heard him utter such a series of staccato phrases before. “I admit, then, I am becoming fond of the girl. Who would not? She is lovely, innocent, unaffected.”

“Everything you are not,” put in Caroline bluntly.

“Exactly. Quite unsuitable. But I would see her make a good match, and not tie herself to the first man who seems viable, just to get away from her ridiculous family.”

“She’s in love, Anthony,” said Caroline, planting a kiss on the top of her husband’s head and coming round to sit next to him. “She’s positively glowing with it. If you thought her beautiful before, she is irresistible now.”

“Glowing is certainly something you seem to know a good deal about yourself at the moment, Caroline,” Sir Anthony commented. “Have you then also taken a handsome lover, or is your bloom more maternal in origin?”

The fact that Edwin was still in the room when Sir Anthony made his enquiry told the couple that he did not suspect the former to be the case at all. Caroline blushed prettily, confirming the baronet’s suspicions.

“How on earth do you know that?” Edwin asked, astonished. “Caroline only told me last night.” Edwin looked at his wife suspiciously.

“No I didn’t!” she exclaimed, guessing his thoughts. “You ought to know better than to think I would tell anyone else such a thing before I told my own husband.”

“Please, please, don’t argue because of my intrusive comment,” their friend pleaded. “I assure you, Edwin, Caroline has not even hinted that she is
enceinte.
But it is my business to be observant and I have seen enough women who are expecting a child to recognise the signs. I am sorry if you did not want anyone else to know. But it can only be a matter of time before they do, anyway, you know,” he finished.

This could not be disputed, but Edwin and Caroline still felt a little disgruntled. They had wanted to keep the news to themselves for a few days before it became public knowledge.

“Is it that obvious?” Caroline asked.

“No, not at all,” Sir Anthony reassured her. “No one else will have the slightest notion until you tell them. Most of our acquaintance are so self-obsessed, that I doubt they will notice until you are at the point of delivery. The signs are subtle. I assure you most sincerely that I won’t tell a soul, and will affect the deepest surprise at the news when you do announce it. If I may just offer my sincere congratulations, then I will speak no more of it.” He beamed at his friends, who looked only partly mollified. “So,” he continued brightly, “our Elizabeth is in love. Does she prattle on incessantly about Lord Daniel in that tiresome way women in love for the first time do?”

“No, although I’m sure she would like to,” Caroline replied. “She keeps a lot to herself. She is not one to prattle about anything, you know that. But as soon as he enters the room she lights up like a torch. Charlotte is making up for Elizabeth’s reserve. She chatters endlessly to anyone who will listen about how romantic it is, and that it was exactly the same for her and her dear Frederick.”

“Poor woman,” Sir Anthony said, not elaborating as to whether he meant Charlotte or her lovestruck cousin. “This has all happened very suddenly. Does Elizabeth know about Lord Daniel, then?”

“Does she know what about Lord Daniel?” Edwin asked.

“Why, that his father banished him into the countryside to cool his heels for a while after he ran up enough gambling debts to feed the population of London for a week. He was only allowed back three months ago after he promised faithfully to reform his ways. In all fairness, he seems to have kept his word up to now.”

“How do you know all these things?” Edwin asked incredulously, his irritation with Sir Anthony’s acuity banished by curiosity. “We were all under the impression that he had been visiting Italy to improve his knowledge of fine art.”

“As I said, dear friends, I have associates in...”

“All echelons of society,” Caroline and Edwin said together, and laughed. The atmosphere lightened.

“Well if that’s the case, we will just have to hope that he has learned his lesson and mended his ways. Because we dare not warn her. I am certain she is too infatuated to accept anyone speaking ill of her beloved Daniel,” Caroline said.

“Elizabeth is more level-headed than you give her credit for,” Sir Anthony replied.

“No one is level-headed when they are in love, Anthony, as you will no doubt find out one day.”

Sir Anthony shuddered theatrically.

“Me, my dear, never! If I am ever in danger of marrying for love, please, I beg of you, just shoot me in the head and save me years of untold misery.”

“Caroline and I married for love,” Edwin pointed out.

“Exceptions only prove the rule, dear boy, and are rare. I do not expect to marry at all, but if I do it will certainly be for practical reasons, not for love. Horrible, restrictive thing. Deprives one of all reason. Quite unfathomable.”

The silk remained in Sir Anthony’s possession, and Beth remained in love with Lord Daniel. They both waited for the Earl’s reply, and in the meantime their romance was the talk of London society.

Now he had returned, Sir Anthony resumed his visits to the Cunningham household, and as far as the family was concerned nothing had changed. He was still as friendly and chatty, his violet cologne still smelled as strong, and the white lead paint covering his face was still as thick. The general assumption was that it was concealing the horrible scars of smallpox, although no one would be so indiscreet as to ask him directly. It was well known that his return from the continent to England just over a year ago had been precipitated by the death of his whole family due to smallpox. Quite understandably he did not talk about this tragedy, and no one was ill-mannered enough to ask. Beth watched him closely in the drawing room as he chatted to Isabella about the horrors of sea voyages, and how his addiction to the vagaries of fashion that necessitated his trips to France would be the death of him one day. It was possible, she thought. Many people did survive smallpox, although the resultant scarring could be hideously disfiguring. The paint was certainly thick enough to fill in the holes caused by the disease. Although no matter how badly scarred, he couldn’t possibly look worse than he did with this grotesque mask.

He felt her gaze on him and looked up at her, smiling briefly before continuing with his tale. He had changed towards her since his return from France. It was subtle, but obvious to her. He rarely addressed her directly, did not offer to accompany her into the dining room, and was no longer on hand to rescue her from unwelcome suitors. Presumably he now realised that was Lord Daniel’s job. She was grateful. She had not thought Sir Anthony particularly tactful and had worried that he would anger Lord Daniel with his flippant informality and meaningless endearments. But he had kept his distance. If anything, he had become more distant than was strictly necessary.

She let the conversation drift on around her. How long did it take a letter to get to Berkshire? How long would the Earl take to reply? She supposed he would have to think about it before answering. A week, maybe two. The waiting was intolerable. Surely he would not refuse to see his son’s choice of wife? Lord Daniel had not actually proposed to her yet, but that was only a formality. Did the Earl already have a bride lined up for his heir? A titled woman, with lands? She frowned.

“Will you then be free next Friday, my dear Elizabeth?”

The mention of her name jolted her out of her speculations.

“Of course she will. She will make herself free,” Lord Edward said.

“Free for what?” Beth asked, her mind still half on the unpleasant prospect of the Earl of Highbury’s censure. She looked up to find the whole Cunningham family eyeing her disapprovingly and Sir Anthony watching her with amusement.

“Really, Elizabeth, I give up. Do you never listen to anybody?” Richard said irritably.

“Do not be hard on your sister, Richard. I’m sure she has far more pleasant things to occupy her mind than listening to my tedious conversation,” Sir Anthony said.

Edward did not protest that Sir Anthony’s conversation was far from tedious.

“Sir Anthony is taking you to be presented to the king next Friday, Elizabeth. You are most honoured,” he said imperiously.

Am I?
she thought, bristling with anger that Edward thought himself competent to know how she felt. She glared at Sir Anthony, who held up his hands in defence.

“I did not command your attendance, my dear, as your cousin suggests. I merely asked if you will be free. I intend to visit the king and would be delighted if you could accompany me. But if you have another appointment, I am sure his Majesty will understand.”

Even if his Majesty would, it was very clear her family would not. She sighed and gave in. She might as well get it over with. Maybe the earl would look more favourably on her if she made a good impression on the monarch. She brightened at that thought.

“I would be delighted, Sir Anthony,” she said, and almost meant it.

Chapter Eleven

“Oh come on, man, let your hair down for once. There’s nae harm in it.”

Alex rubbed his hand roughly through the hair aforementioned as he always did when irritated, and inhaled sharply through his nose in frustration as the thong binding it broke and chestnut locks cascaded around his face.

“I’d beg leave to differ with ye on that, Angus, but that’s no’ the point,” he said, catching the ribbon thrown to him by Duncan in mid-air and tying his hair untidily back. “I didna take the risk of coming here to meet you just so that I could empty my balls in some pox-ridden whore.”

“Aye, but since we’re here...” Angus said hopefully.

“Just what did you take the risk of coming here for?” Duncan interrupted, aware that his older brother was irritable and that Angus’s flippant attitude was not likely to restore his temper.

Alex had sent a message to his brothers’ lodgings, stating that he needed to meet with them urgently at nightfall. The maze of alleyways that lay between the Strand and Drury Lane were ideal. Ill-lit as they were and populated by numerous denizens of the criminal world, the three men sitting quietly in the corner of a disreputable back street inn would attract no attention. The only prostitute who had earlier made her way jauntily towards them, hoping for business, had recoiled at the ferocious look in Alex’s eyes as he noted her progress across the room. He had jerked his head sharply at her and she had scurried quickly away.

“There are problems at home,” he said, his voice soft so as not to be overheard. “The arms near Stronmelochan have been discovered.”

“What?!” Angus exclaimed, and then seeing his brothers’ disapproving looks, lowered his voice. “How?”

“I had a letter from Donald. It was waiting for me at the coffee-house when I went there this morning. It had been there for three days. It seems that ten days ago a pack of redcoats found the cave. Wee Davy Drummond happened to be there, and heard them coming frae miles away. Ye ken what a racket the redcoats make. Anyway, he hid himself in the gorse and watched them come to the top o’ the hill, then rootle around a little until they found the cave. Then he slid off backwards down the hill and ran to tell the others, although there was nothing they could do.”

“They could have gone and fought, surely? How many redcoats were there?” Angus said.

“It doesna matter how many there were,” Alex said through gritted teeth. “Think, man. If the men had all rushed up the hill, maybe they’d have killed the redcoats and saved the weapons, aye. And within less than a week every British soldier in Scotland would have descended on the glen and wiped us out. As it is, the cave is actually on Campbell land, so the MacGregors are unlikely to be suspected – no’ immediately, at least,” he said thoughtfully. “The British’ll no be eager to accuse a powerful clan like the Campbells, being halfway up George’s arse as they are. While they’re investigating, we can be on the other side of the glen and out of harm’s way. They did the right thing in not attacking the soldiers, Angus. Swords and pistols can be replaced. Men cannot.”

“Ye’re thinking that it was no accidental discovery then, Alex, that the redcoats knew where the cave was already?” Duncan said, his grey eyes troubled.