Midsummer Eve at Rookery End (16 page)

“Your information gathering amazes me,” said Devlyn. “Pray tell me how you know of my dealings with Lord Sneyd when you visited that new gaming hell with Gil and George?”

Toby was unabashed. “No harm in that; none of us bet too deep.”

“Glad to hear it. Perhaps I have taught you some principles after all, so allow me to offer another lesson in your education. Lord Sneyd challenged me directly last evening and I was forced to oblige him. There is no point in detailing his history, suffice to say it is disreputable. Most of the
ton
accept him because of his address and charm in spite of the rumours that follow him. With his funds at low ebb he will blame me for worsening an already uncomfortable situation. He has always been an unpleasant man; he may now be a dangerous one. You would do well to avoid Lord Sneyd and his cronies.”

“You’re right. Never liked the fellow anyway. Bet he’s as sick as a dog just now. How much did he lose?”

“Too much” said Devlyn laconically.

“I enjoy a game of chance as much as the next man, but it’s a damn foolish thing to bet everything on the roll of a dice.”

“He is a reckless man and an inveterate gambler. He has been losing money for months and is desperate to satisfy some of his creditors.”

As Devlyn rang for the butler, Toby pronounced gloomily, “I hope you won’t be away too long - I’d like your opinion on those match bays George is selling.”

“Always willing to give you the benefit of my humble advice,” he replied, a quiver of amusement in his voice. “But I would like your assistance on another matter.”

“Lord, Dev, anything I can do for you is a pleasure,” said Toby, staring absently down at his boots.

“I’ll be driving my greys down to Hampshire and wondered if you’d care to accompany me and take the reins?”

Toby started, his features alight with anticipation. “Do you trust me to handle the ribbons? They’re a capital set of horseflesh - admired all over town.”

“So I believe,” observed Devlyn, “and yes, much as it grieves me to praise you too highly in case your head swells, you’ve become an excellent whip.”

Toby glowed with pleasure; Devlyn was one of the most notable whipsters of the day and this was music to his ears. “Perhaps this trip won’t be so awful after all! “

“I’m pleased it has suddenly become more palatable,” replied his friend, laughing.

***

The Dowager Lady Gainsford lived in a mansion in Eaton Square that she often claimed was too large for her since her husband’s death. Her family ignored these outbursts as they were usually followed by her ladyship organizing one of her famous parties, which the
ton
clamoured to attend and which were always a success because of the people who squeezed into the ballroom on the appointed evening.

Despite her blunt, outspoken manner, she was still an influential and well-liked figure. She was candid but honest, uncompromising but unfailingly kind to those she approved of. That she did not always conform to accepted behaviour was, in her case, considered a positive attribute. She knew everyone and was known by everyone, and her standing was such that even Mrs Drummond-Burrell, the Almack’s patroness who was a stickler for the proprieties, described Maria Gainsford’s eccentric habits as charming.

Later that same March morning, she sat in her withdrawing room, flamboyantly attired in crimson silk. Her matching turban was adorned with feathers that bobbed up and down as she read the letter in her lap. When

Lord Devlyn’s arrival was announced, she looked up sharply.

“About time too, Alexander! It must be a month since you paid me a visit and I was beginning to despair.”

Alex kissed the gnarled hand held out to him. “You are looking in great beauty, ma’am.”

“Hmph! Utter rubbish, my boy, and you know it but a prettily-turned compliment is always welcome to a woman, whatever her age. Do sit down; some sensible conversation is what I need after receiving this letter from my daughter-in-law.” She held up the sheet she had been reading. “Why, the woman’s head is full of nonsense! Two crossed sheets containing nothing more interesting than the delights of Leyton’s Restorative Powders which have cured her latest bout of the vapours!”

“Ah, yes,” said Alex gravely. “I understand Lady Elizabeth’s health is delicate on occasion.”

“Not so delicate - she commands her household to do her bidding at all times, including my son. What Peter married her for, I will never know. Like most supposed invalids she shows remarkable tenacity when she encounters opposition.” She put the letter aside. “But onto more important matters. Have you given consideration to the subject I mentioned?”

“Yes, and I will be happy to pass your regards onto Miss Sinclair.”

Lady Gainsford nodded her satisfaction. “Pleased to hear it since I have already written to Lady Sinclair about your visit.”

His eyes opened wider. “You were very sure of my agreement.”

“Oh, come down from the boughs! I merely believed you would not be so ill-mannered as to refuse me this small request.”

She chuckled and Alex hid a smile: Lady Gainsford was notorious for getting her way in matters she applied herself to.

“I would travel there myself were it were not for my accursed rheumatism. You must convey an invitation to Lucy to visit me; I understand her stepmother intends to visit London for her stepsister’s debut, and Lucy is to accompany them. Lucy’s grandmother is concerned about her situation.”

His interest was mildly piqued. “How so?”

“As you know, Amelia Derricott is a very old friend of mine and she’s been in poor health lately. Since her husband died, she has retired from society and lives quietly, but she has continued to write to Lucy over the years since

she had to leave London suddenly—”

“At the time of her father’s death?” he interjected.

“Exactly. Their contact with Sir Nicholas Sinclair was only through letters after he re-married some years following their daughter’s death. The present Lady Sinclair is an unprincipled, ill-bred woman. She was a widow with young daughter and she married Sinclair for his title. She was unwilling for him to have much contact with his first wife’s relatives. The daughter took the Sinclair name and the two girls have been raised as sisters. Nicholas Sinclair was a scholarly fellow, happy to spend the rest of his life among his books after Lucy’s mother died. He had little intention of marrying again, but he was manoeuvered into the match.”

“Obviously a marriage made in heaven,” said Alex sardonically.

Lady Gainsford nodded. “When it was time for Lucy’s entrance into society, Amelia and her husband offered to launch Lucy under their auspices which Sir Nicholas was happy to agree to. Unfortunately, his untimely death cut short Lucy’s stay. There has been little contact since. Amelia wants to find out more about Lucy’s predicament; the younger girl is a beauty by all accounts and has a large dowry. What is to happen to Lucy when she

marries? Amelia places no store by the stepmother and asked for my help.”

“But surely if Miss Sinclair writes to her grandmother she comments on her circumstances?”

“Yes, but she is not the type to pour out her problems. Amelia thought this would be a way of finding out if the girl is happy or not, and also to invite Lucy to visit us while the family are in London.” She gave him a knowing look. “You might be interested to meet her; I mentioned before I believe you would suit.”

Alex shrugged. “I go merely to please you; I have no intention of marrying at present. How can I? I seem to have lost the ability to feel anything deeply,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Destruction, death, guilt and the gore of the battlefield have left me numb. I am in the world yet just I exist just outside of it. I enjoy life yet I find no joy in it. Something within me is missing. Even if I could find a lady I admired, I am hardly good husband material.”

Lady Gainsford regarded him intently, her gaze resting on his scarred cheek. “Your brother’s death hit you hard and your experiences on the Peninsula would have finished a lesser man, but now you should marry.”

“For love or duty?”

“For love of course,” she said with an impatient wave of her hand. “You don’t think so now, but falling in love will tear down the walls that surround your heart. You need a lover who is also a friend and companion. Someone who will share your hopes and fears, who is your equal in intelligence and strength of purpose and who will not be put off by your occasionally distant manner. While I should never presume to be as busy as your sister, I have your interests at heart. I want you to be happy and do not believe you are at present.”

“I’m not. The contents of my wine cellar are sadly diminished - Toby seems determined to sample most of its contents during his stay.”

She did not comment on his deft change of subject, saying instead, “He is a pleasant young man. Good to see him enjoying himself without getting into too much trouble.”

Alex stood and kissed her fingers. “He has decided to accompany me to Hampshire. I leave the day after tomorrow and will send word when I have delivered your invitation. I doubt I will give Miss Sinclair another thought afterwards though. She will be consigned to memory, along with the other women I’ve been introduced to with a view to marriage.”

Lady Gainsford watched him walk to the door. “Oh, Alexander,” she murmured, as she returned to her perusal of her letter.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Lady Gainsford did not look up but said enigmatically, “Watch out for Julius Sneyd. He is a most unpredictable man.”

An agreeable letter and an unwelcome visitor

Sinclair House was a large, comfortable property and a perfect example of Jacobean architecture. The grey stone buildings and the surrounding gardens blended together delightfully, exuding a warm welcome which had appealed to Sir Nicholas Sinclair and his first wife.

In contrast, the current Lady Sinclair viewed these attractions as disadvantages, considered the house too small for entertaining and the gardens inferior to a park. She would have preferred to have sold the house and moved to Bath or London but under the terms of her late husband’s will, its sale had been forbidden unless some financial crisis demanded it.

Thus far it had not and although this situation irked Lady Sinclair, there was nothing she could do about it. Instead, her energy had been diverted into planning her daughter’s launch into society.

On the same day as Viscount Devlyn was visiting Lady Gainsford, Lucy Sinclair sat in the morning room at Sinclair House, only half-listening to the letter her stepmother was reading aloud.

“… And so my godson will call to convey my best wishes and to extend an invitation for Lucy to visit me when you are settled in London.” Lady Sinclair paused for breath and turned in triumph to her daughter. “There, Belinda! You will have an opportunity to meet one of the leaders of the
ton
before your season even begins. He must want to see you for himself before you reach London.”

Lucy glanced up from the book she was reading. “Mama, we must not read too much into his calling here. It is only a courtesy visit.”

“Nonsense,” declared Lady Sinclair roundly. “Word has reached him of Belinda’s beauty and he wishes to see her; this letter is to observe the proprieties.”

Seeing that her mother’s mind was made up, Lucy forbore for the moment to argue or ask to view the letter. Her sister showed no such restraint. She hurried across the room to snatch the sheet from her mother’s hand.

“Belinda, pray do not be so hasty—”

“Mama, you are too slow; let me see the letter!”

At seventeen, Belinda Sinclair was acknowledged to be the most beautiful girl in the county, in face and figure, if not in character. There was no denying by even the harshest critics that her large blue eyes were framed in the most perfectly proportioned face, and her other exquisite features were complimented by a profusion of silky blonde hair. Her figure was voluptuous, lacking the awkwardness of other young ladies of her age. If Belinda was a spoilt and rather foolish girl, her admirers were willing to forgive these flaws because of her dazzling beauty and allure.

Her lovely face wore an expression of annoyance as she read the letter. “She does not write if he visits his property alone or with a party. How vexing! I am always more animated when surrounded by a large number of people.” Belinda thrust the letter under Lucy’s nose. “Look, Lucy! As Mama says, I am the real reason Lord Devlyn will be calling on us.”

Lucy, amused at the way in which her stepmother and now her sister had interpreted the letter, remarked with only a slight quaver in her voice, “Then he will only have to look upon you to be struck dumb by your beauty.”

“Oh yes,” replied Belinda, blithely unaware of her lack of modesty. “Everyone always is.”

“If Viscount Devlyn arrives within the next few days, there is no time to lose. Arrangements need to be made,” said Lady Sinclair.

“What arrangements?”

“Belinda must be dressed to take his breath away and we must decide which of her gowns she is to wear. Really, Lucy, why do you not show a little more enthusiasm for his visit?” Lady Sinclair fixed Lucy with a glare of annoyance, her face wearing the petulant expression that Belinda had inherited.

Lucy’s recognized the warning signs of her stepmother’s rising temper. “Of course I am interested,” she replied calmly. “We have so few visitors here that any new acquaintance must be welcome, but we must remember he is calling at his godmother’s request. You cannot really believe he has another reason?”

“I know more than you about the ways of society!”

Although normally languid and indolent, Lady Sinclair’s anger was quickly aroused at any criticism of herself or Belinda. Lucy thought it doubtful Lord Devlyn was visiting because of Belinda. It was rumoured he could have his choice of women. It therefore seemed unlikely he would take the time or the trouble to travel into the country to cast his eye over Belinda, but then perhaps a pretty face coupled with a fortune could tempt him, as they had countless others before.