Lord Ryecot and a party of friends were making merry in one of the boxes at Vauxhall Gardens when he became conscious of a woman standing a few feet away and regarding him steadily. Her gown had an exceedingly low-cut bodice, and he immediately assumed she was one of the impures who frequented the Gardens. When she saw she had attracted his attention she smiled, and beckoned. Ryecot promptly disentangled himself from the girl who clung round his neck, pushed her into the willing arms of a crony, and left the box.
He thought he knew her. Perhaps he had seen her flaunting her wares at Drury Lane or Covent Garden, but not being entirely sober could not recall her name. He followed her into one of the less well lighted alleys, where she turned to face him. He reached out for her, only to have her slap his questing hands away.
'Be done, sir, it's not dalliance I want.'
'Hey? Then why – what the devil do you want?'
'Come, we can sit down in the arbour further along here. I think we can help one another.'
She turned and he followed, bemused. If this were no amorous ploy, he could not imagine what it could be.
'I have heard you have no love for the Earl of Frayne, or his latest flirt,' she said as soon as they reached the arbour. 'You have been implying the girl is of low birth, and came by her wealth dishonestly.'
Ryecot shook his head to try and clear it of the fumes of brandy.
'What if I have? It's the truth, her grandfather was just a tavern keeper, and she's no better than a tavern wench.'
The woman laughed.
'Yes, I have heard she called you some choice names, when you were caught in one of the thunderstorms. What had you done to deserve them, my lord? Had you attempted her virtue?'
'She'd have to be rather different before I even wanted to do that,' he snorted. 'She's not pretty, she's a hoyden, and has no idea of how to treat a better class of person. I can't see what Frayne sees in her, unless he is willing to marry her just to get the Castle back. That's what people are saying.'
'Even for the Castle he would not contemplate such a marriage if she were utterly ruined.'
Ryecot peered at her, but the nearest lamps were some distance away and he could not distinguish her features. Her tone, however, was bitter, and even in his fuddled state he wondered why it should matter so much to a woman such as she was.
'Who are you, and what's your interest in the wretched female?' he demanded.
'I'm Catherine Cartwright. Or, to be accurate, that is the name I am forced to go by.'
Ryecot nodded in sudden comprehension, though he did not understand what difference it made if she had to use another name.
'Frayne's bit of muslin? Of course. And when he grew tired of you he passed you on to Stanton?'
She stiffened beside him.
'You are insulting, my lord! I was rather more than his mistress! I'm well aware he could not openly marry me, since he is expected to wed one of his own class, and though I come from respectable parents, they are poor, and humble people. It would not do for an Earl to wed such as me. Not openly.'
Ryecot began to think he was more disguised than he'd realized. What the devil had all this nonsense to do with him?
'Are you saying he married you? Frayne? Like Prinny and Maria Fitzherbert? What d'you call it? Morgan-something?'
'It was a true marriage, but one he could not acknowledge. I loved him, I was willing to have my name and honour dragged through the mud for him. Then, because he meets this girl and thinks he can get hold of that old Castle if he tricks her into marriage, he discards me, throws me out.'
She began to sob, clutching his arm, and Ryecot was highly tempted to escape, for he could not abide lachrymose females. But the grasp on his arm was unexpectedly strong.
'But, ain't you under Stanton's protection now? Why go to him if Frayne's your husband? It sounds damn smoky to me.'
'What else was I to do? In the eyes of the world I was a ruined woman in any event, and I have to live.'
'Do you mean Frayne didn't provide for you?'
Ryecot felt a sneaking regard for a man who could do that to a woman. He wasn't sure he could have done, for it would become known, and some of the sticklers would consider it bad form. They might even say so, and he wanted to be held in high regard by the ton.
She sobbed even louder, and he looked round anxiously. If anyone heard it could be misinterpreted.
'Hush, do!'
She sniffed, but to his relief the sobs were muted.
'All I had were the jewels he'd given me. They will not last for long. But I love him still, and if only I could get rid of this Hallem woman I know I could win him back.'
'Good Gad! You don't mean murder her? That wouldn't do at all, and Frayne wouldn't like it.'
What, he began to wonder, did the wretched woman want with him? Why had she sought him out? If she thought he would help her to murder anyone she was quite mistaken. Not even his father and all his high connections could rescue him from such a situation.
She shook the arm she still clasped, and he winced. Although it had not been broken as he feared, he had sprained his wrist, and it was not fully recovered.
'Of course not! But if only I could damage her reputation past all recovery, he would be so disgusted he would come back to me. I know he would, if he did not have the temptation of that wretched Castle.'
'You're not thinking you could use me to damage it, do you? I tell you, I'll have nothing to do with the wench.'
'I wouldn't ask a gentleman like you to pretend to become entangled with such as that one.'
He snorted with laughter.
'I'd not do it, you can be sure of that.'
Her sobs turned to laughter.
'I have a different plan. All I need you to do, my lord, is pass on some messages. Listen, and I'll explain.'
*
It was two weeks before Damaris felt sufficiently recovered to undertake the second chess game. Her illness had left her weaker than usual, and her cough lingered, though she was able to go for drives almost every day with the Earl. She and Mary attended a few sedate parties, and went once to the theatre. Sir Thomas came home for a few days, but had to go to Ireland at the beginning of June to deal with some of his friend's business there. He warned Mary he would probably be away for two or three weeks.
The day for the second game was fixed for early June, and once again took place in Mary's drawing room. Lord Frayne had suggested they waited a little longer, saying he thought Damaris was not fully recovered, but she insisted she was perfectly well apart from a tendency to cough occasionally. She was restless, and wanted to get it over with. Mary was talking of leaving London for a quiet seaside resort before the end of June, for a few weeks until she went to stay with her father, so if she lost there would have to be a third game before then.
The match lasted for over two hours, and Damaris lost.
Afterwards she tried to work out where she had made a mistake, and concluded it was when she had carelessly put her white bishop in jeopardy during the end game. The Earl had tried to console her by saying she was not yet fully well, and probably tired after such intense concentration, but Damaris rejected this attempt at excusing her failure.
'No, my lord, I have no excuse but carelessness in not foreseeing your moves. So we must go on to the third game.'
'Not for a few weeks, I think. You will still be in London, or do you go to Brighton?'
'Mary has not decided. She will wait for Sir Thomas to return from Ireland, but she tells me she does not like Brighton. She would prefer some quieter resort, where the children can recover. Amelia is still much more subdued than normal, and has a poor appetite.'
'And you remain with her?
'Until just before my birthday, in mid-July. Then she goes to stay with her father, and I plan to go back to Frayne Castle, where my people will want to hold a celebration. I must allow them that, but afterwards I will either take control of the Castle, from Humphrey, or make arrangements to hand it over to you, my lord.'
He did not reply, and soon took his leave. Mary, hearing the result of the game, looked worried, but did not comment. Damaris retreated to her room and began to think seriously about the real possibility she was about to lose her home. Why had she permitted her anger with the Earl to entice her into such a mad scheme?
Well, she was committed, she had to abide by her actions, but she would do her utmost to win the final game. The groom she had sent, travelling post, to the Castle, with a list of the most important of her grandfather's books on the game of chess, had brought them back to London some days since, but until now she had been too listless and too stupidly confident, she admitted, to bother with them. Now she would spend every spare minute consulting them, devising some new strategy, to save her home.
*
Humphrey accepted an invitation to a musical evening, hoping to see Damaris. He had not seen her for some time, since the woman who claimed to be the Earl's wife had approached him. He had called once in Cavendish Square, but Damaris was confined to bed, and afterwards he had decided he must have proof before saying anything to her. He could not think of any way of finding such proof, unless he saw the woman again.
It was his intention to try and discover whether the Earl was courting Damaris. He had seen them driving in the Park the previous day, and it was becoming urgent to foil any attempt by the Earl to propose to her. He had only a few weeks left before she would be free of his control. He needed to do something to bind her to him, and making her disgusted with the fellow was, he thought, his only chance. If he never again saw the woman who had claimed to be married to his lordship he must risk telling Damaris what she had said, and hope Damaris would at least have sufficient doubt about the Earl's actions to make her hesitate to accept any offer he made.
Damaris and Lady Gordon did not appear, and Humphrey was trying to decide how soon he would be able to slip away when Jennifer Frayne came across the room towards him. He leapt to his feet and made a slight bow. That was, he had seen, what many of the men did when meeting a lady. He wondered if, by some remote chance, the Earl's cousin knew anything of his affairs, and this supposed secret marriage. Women seemed to have a knack of discovering secrets. It was probably all the hours they spent gossiping about their friends and acquaintances.
'Mr Lee, may I sit here by you? Mama is at the front, and I find the music too noisy for my taste.'
He made room for her, solicitously drawing one of the uncomfortable, spindly chairs closer to his own.
'Miss Frayne, of course. Delighted. Please do join me. Are you enjoying this evening?'
'I like the harp and the violins, but neither of the singers is very good, do you think?'
He abominated harps, but he needed to persuade her to talk to him, so he agreed.
'Lord Frayne is not here?'
'He is probably playing cards at White's, which is where he seems to go every evening. He hasn't dined at home for weeks. Mama feels he neglects us.'
'Playing cards? Then he does not have – er – friends he visits?'
She laughed, somewhat bitterly.
'You mean his mistress? The woman Cartwright? I believe he finished with her some time ago and has not yet replaced her.'
He tried not to show his gratification that she knew so much about the Earl's affairs, but this could make his task simpler. He would be able to find the mysterious woman now. But if Miss Frayne referred to her as the Earl's mistress, she presumably had no knowledge of any secret marriage.
'Do you know what has become of her? I believe it goes ill with these unfortunate women when their protectors discard them.'
He always gave his own discarded mistresses enough money to keep them for a few weeks, he thought with complacency. It helped until they could find employment either in the manufactories, or as servants. He even provided characters for them if they asked, but fortunately most did not. It might have been awkward if anyone calculated how many maidservants apparently left his employment.
Jennifer was shaking her head.
'All I know is that she is now Lord Stanton's mistress. These women have no shame, to live in such a fashion, permitting a man to support them.'
What difference was this to girls who married in the expectation of being kept for life by a man, he wondered. They just had a wedding ring, and the poor men had to endure them for life, they could not cast them off when they grew tired of the wenches. But he had a name, Stanton, and would be able to discover where he lived, and where he provided his little love nest. Then he could ask Miss Cartwright for proof of what she had told him.
He was feeling so much gratitude to Jennifer that he invited her to drive in the Park with him the following afternoon. The astonished delight with which she accepted cause him a moment's dismay, but he felt he owed her some pleasure for the unwitting help she had given him, and afterwards he need never see her again, for he would soon be going back to Yorkshire with a chastened Damaris, beholden to him for saving her from ruin.
*
Jennifer donned her newest gown, a pale pink muslin, for the drive with Humphrey. It was a very hot day, so she wore a spencer in a deeper shade of pink and a poke bonnet trimmed with pink ribbons. For an hour while he drove around the Park she bowed and waved to all her acquaintances, and whenever she saw one of them walking begged Humphrey to stop so that she could chat to her dearest Sophia or Caroline or Jane.
'I expected to see dear Damaris here,' she said after some time. 'I do hope she has not succumbed to another chill. Would you mind terribly if we drove round to Cavendish Square just to enquire after her health?'
'Not at all. I have to ask her what she intends to do, as I hear Lady Gordon is thinking of going to Weymouth, and I really feel my cousin would be better advised to return to Yorkshire. I fear she may be tempted into sea bathing, and I do not consider it would be wise for someone just recovering from an illness.'
Lady Gordon's butler admitted them, saying her ladyship and Miss Hallem had just returned and would be down in a few minutes. He showed them into the drawing room. Humphrey, who had never before had the opportunity, strolled round the room inspecting the paintings and the Meissen figurines on the mantlepiece, while Jennifer seated herself on a sopha.
Lady Gordon soon arrived, and ordered tea. Damaris came in a few minutes later, carrying a book. Jennifer was intrigued to notice the look of exasperation she cast at Humphrey. It was quickly concealed, but returned when Humphrey began to tell her she must return to Yorkshire instead of going to Weymouth.
'I have not yet decided where I am going, Mr Lee,' Lady Gordon said. 'I am hoping, however, that Damaris will accompany me. My daughter Amelia is so very fond of her, since she looked after her during her illness, and I fear the child would suffer a relapse if she had to lose her favourite person.'
'Damaris needs to be at Frayne, to prepare for her birthday celebrations,' Humphrey said. 'Surely the child will forget her, in the excitement of being at the seaside? I believe children are very adaptable, and she has a nurse. Children ought not to be indulged.'
It was clear to Jennifer that he was not pleased to be opposed, and she hoped he would prevail. Surely, as Miss Hallem's guardian, he could insist? Then the wretched girl would be away from Luke, and perhaps his mad scheme to marry her for the sake of the Castle would come to nought.
Lady Gordon merely smiled, but did not argue. When Damaris began to speak she gave her a slight shake of the head, and Damaris subsided. Humphrey would have his way, Jennifer thought. He was a determined man, and moreover had right on his side, and the two women had recognized it.
Soon afterwards Humphrey said they must be going, he had to return the horses to the livery stables. Outside in the Square the groom had been walking the horses, and they had to wait until he brought them round. Humphrey, looking annoyed, stepped forward to speak to him while Jennifer waited to be helped into the curricle.
'Miss Hallem?'
She turned to find a small, wizened man wearing the striped waistcoat of a tiger standing beside her.
'What do you want?'
He thrust a letter into her hand and turned away. There was no superscription, and before she could decide what to do Humphrey had come to assist her into the curricle.
She held on to the letter, and was silent all the way back to Upper Brook Street. Having thanked Humphrey for a delightful afternoon, she went straight to her bedroom, tossed aside her spencer and bonnet, and sat down to contemplate the letter.
What should she do? The man had obviously mistaken her for Damaris Hallem, so she presumed the letter must be for her. Her curiosity grew until it consumed her. Surely, she told herself, it could not hurt if she eased off the wafer and read the letter. It could be some clandestine note arranging an assignation. The manner in which it had been delivered was, she told herself, suspicious. Normally a footman, not a groom, would have brought a note and waited for a reply. Most notes would have the name of the recipient on the outside. It was altogether too smoky, and if, by reading it, she could save poor dear Luke from making a great mistake of allying himself with a girl who received clandestine letters, he would owe her immense gratitude.
She hesitated for a while as she recalled Luke's anger the last time she had opened a letter which had not had any name on it. Perhaps she could reveal the contents without admitting how she came to know about them. She would contrive some way once she had discovered whether Luke needed to know.
If the note were entirely innocent, she could reseal the wafer and send one of their own footmen to Cavendish Square to deliver it.
She lit a candle and in the flame heated a small penknife. Then she applied it to the wax and eased up the wafer, taking great care not to break it. At last she was able to unfold the sheet of paper and read what was written on it. There were just a few scrawled lines.
If you wish to discover what your guardian has been doing with your inheritance, come tonight at ten to the address below. A friend.
How very intriguing. What did it mean?
There was no signature, just an address Jennifer thought was in the village of Chelsea. What was she to do?
If she had the note delivered to Damaris, would she go to this house? What was the information she would be told? How was Mr Lee involved? Did whoever had written the note intend to try and blacken his name, accuse him of deceiving Damaris, perhaps using his guardianship to defraud her? It read like that. Would this create a scandal, one he might find difficult to deny?
Jennifer, over the years, had watched more than one reputation destroyed by unfounded allegations. The people involved had been able to prove their innocence, but there were always some suspicions left behind, and they had been cut by some former friends, who claimed there was no smoke without fire.
She did not like Damaris, wanted her out of Luke's life. Mr Lee, on the other hand, had been kind to her. He had asked her to drive with him, and danced with her. She could not believe he was dishonest. If she sent this letter to his cousin might she be helping to destroy his reputation?
Jennifer had never thought of herself as bold. She had always obeyed her mother, but now she decided it was time to act on her own. She would plead a headache to avoid going to the theatre tonight, and instead go to this house and discover exactly what allegations were being levelled against Mr Lee.
***