There was a twofold problem, said Lady Caroline. The first concerned her sister Annabelle, who had arrived in London several months ago. Annabelle was twenty, and a little while before sailing for England she had broken her long-standing engagement to a Charleston gentleman. She said she did not love him enough. Her parents, though shocked, were understanding, and helped her to escape biting tongues and acid gossip by letting her go to England for a while. She was accompanied on the voyage by a relative who had business to conduct in London and Manchester.
Once in London, she was received by Caroline with delight and affection. She confessed then that she had broken her engagement because she was fearful of being bored to death by her would-be husband. Caroline not only sympathized with her, she complimented Annabelle on being wise enough not to marry a man unsuited to her. Alas, it was not wisdom in its essence, it was the headstrong act of a vivacious young lady who envied her sister her sophisticated life in London. And once there herself, she was completely captivated by the excitements of its social calendar and the gallantries of the Corinthians. These sporting rakes devoted much of their time to pugilism and horse-racing. When in their presence, Annabelle’s eyes were constantly dazzled by their gleaming Hessian boots, thigh-clasping pantaloons and colourful coats.
She proved even more impressionable at twenty than Caroline had been at eighteen. Received at court, she met a personage of royal rank who quizzed her with a dark and devious eye. He was by no means the most handsome personage of the day, but on the other hand he was so impressive of character and so majestic of bearing that he was a danger to any young lady whose demeanour was that of a breathless, fluttering butterfly. The butterfly, mesmerized, was ready to fly dizzily into the net.
Caroline, aghast, endeavoured to send her back home. Annabelle would have none of it, and Caroline recognized an infatuation potentially more ruinous than her own had been. She knew her parents expected her to take care of Annabelle, to become the watchful chaperone, and to guard her until such time as the emotions and repercussions of the broken engagement had died their death.
Annabelle was only a few weeks away from her twenty-first birthday. At her coming of age she would undoubtedly regard herself as free to do exactly as she liked. She was sweet and engaging, but wilful. Impending degradation loomed in front of her, for the man in question would not hesitate to seduce her and, later, discard her. As a virgin, she would be an amusement to him, no more.
‘You are speaking, marm, of the royal personage?’ enquired Captain Burnside.
‘I am,’ said Caroline, and went on to say that despite being royal he was not a gentleman. The august personage would not himself have agreed with this, for he believed no shame could attach to blood royals, however immoral their pursuits. Her infatuated sister, quite overwhelmed by his attentions, imagined herself becoming the love of his life. She was deaf to what the whole of London could have told her: that she would never be more than just another brief pleasure to him. She was incapable of believing a royal duke could be a villain. Yet he patently was.
‘Regrettably, marm,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘ladies do have a weakness for villains. My own devious blandishments have, alas, secured the affections of several sweet innocents. In moments of remorse, I’ve confessed myself unworthy to more than one of them, but without causing any to recoil. Indeed, to be told of my failings only made them declare a loving wish to help me reform.’
Remembering her own weakness for Lord Clarence, and how she had ignored her father’s words of caution, Caroline bit her lip.
‘Innocence, sir, is a tender and susceptible thing,’ she said, ‘and the deviousness of designing men to be held in much contempt. However, pray allow me to continue …’ And she went on to say that her sister Annabelle must be detached from the man who would almost certainly seduce her. She must become infatuated with another, and in such a way that she would be cured of her feelings for Cumberland.
Captain Burnside raised dark eyebrows. ‘Cumberland, marm?’ he enquired.
‘That is the man, sir, the Duke of Cumberland himself.’
‘Your sister, marm, has indeed set her sights dangerously high,’ said the captain. ‘Cumberland will take her in his own time, play with her, toy with her, and leave her to her own devices once she’s with child.’
Caroline stiffened. ‘I would rather you used your tongue less disgracefully, sir,’ she said coldly. ‘I do not care to have you comment on the consequences of immoral intimacies between Cumberland and my sister.’
‘But the unhappy possibility exists, marm.’
‘Then it is a possibility you must remove, sir, or does the mention of Cumberland intimidate you?’
‘Cumberland is a dark shadow in a thousand corridors, marm, but no, I am not intimidated.’ Captain Burnside smiled. ‘I ain’t as much in his way as his elder brothers are.’
‘His elder brothers?’ Caroline took serious note of that remark. ‘What is this, sir – an imputation that Cumberland wishes himself the only son of the King?’
‘He ain’t said so to me, marm. I merely made an observation. Favour me by continuing with that which is relevant to my commission.’
Caroline, casting from her mind the unbearable image of Annabelle enceinte by reason of Cumberland’s lust, said firmly, ‘I am engaging you, Captain Burnside, for the purpose of freeing my sister from her attachment to the duke. His arms have not yet closed about her, but they will, and perhaps as soon as she is twenty-one. In her giddiness at coming of age, she will be at her most foolish. I require you, therefore, to prevent this by inducing her to transfer her affections to you.’
‘Ah,’ said Captain Burnside.
‘Since you are infamously successful as a ladies’ man, you should not find that too difficult, I presume? You have the gifts of a virtuoso, have you not?’ Lady Caroline was ironic but hopeful. ‘Much as I detest the thought of my sister transferring her infatuation from a royal libertine to a conscienceless blackguard, I shall nevertheless endure it for her sake. You are following me, sir?’ Her green eyes searched his musing grey.
‘I am, perhaps, a little ahead of you,’ he said. ‘Ah – is your sister of independent means? Comfortably possessed?’
Her eyes became a little fiery. ‘Sir?’ she said warningly.
‘I ain’t disposed to fleece her, marm, nor leave her in tears. If she owns sufficient of the ready or has excellent prospects, then once I’ve won her sweet affections I’ll not be averse to marrying her.’
‘Marrying her?’ Caroline flamed. ‘My sister? You?’
‘Well, d’you see, marm,’ said the captain reasonably, ‘I fancy that, in detaching her from Cumberland, I may become so much the object of her affections that she’ll conceive expectations.’
‘Dear Lord of mercy,’ breathed Caroline, ‘I vow I have never known such a scoundrel, nor one with so much love for himself. Under no circumstances, none whatever, are you to entertain the idea of marrying my sister.’
‘Well, there may be tears, marm …’
‘So there may, sir, but sooner tears than shameful disgrace. Attend on me, Captain Burnside, and take note that, if you succeed in this matter, you will at once return to the disreputable environment you no doubt inhabit. I will look to my sister and any tears she may shed concerning your disappearance. You will give Annabelle the attentiveness and consideration of a gentleman throughout, practising your deception as forgivably as you can, and then depart honourably, as I require you to and will pay you to. You will say, perhaps, that your regiment has called on you for active service abroad. That is as honourable as can be contrived, I suggest.’
‘Quite so, marm; all shall be as you wish,’ said Captain Burnside.
‘And now, sir, to the second part of your commission. This also concerns the Duke of Cumberland.’
‘The devil it does,’ murmured the captain. ‘The man’s a pervasive darkness.’
‘He has a letter,’ said Caroline.
‘Damn me, there’s—’
‘Sir?’ she said freezingly.
‘Humble apologies, Your Ladyship. But I was going to say there’s always a letter lurking somewhere or other. Who is the dear and unfortunate lady?’
‘Do not anticipate me, Captain Burnside, or attempt to take the dialogue out of my mouth. The lady in question is my dearest friend, Lady Hester Russell. The letter is of pale blue parchment and the wax seal, although broken by now, is stamped with a crest appertaining to a swan. Cumberland is using it to command Lady Russell’s obedience.’
‘Obedience?’
Caroline showed distaste. ‘Obedience to his demands, Captain Burnside. I am sure you know precisely what I mean. Cumberland has the devil’s own way of bringing the most reluctant woman to a bed. Lady Russell, at a country house party for a week, with her husband and other guests, had the misfortune to see her husband take a tumble that broke his leg. Incapacitated, he was placed in a ground-floor room to rest and recuperate. Lady Russell, alone in her bedroom that night, woke up to find Cumberland beside her.’
‘Say no more, marm,’ said the captain considerately. ‘I quite understand. Ravishment, alas, and yet the sweet weakness of yielding. And so, no doubt, illicit passion was born and indiscreet billets-doux began to spring from the wanton heart. Poor woman.’
‘Pray curb your vivid imagination,’ said Caroline. ‘Lady Russell has no wanton heart. Ravished, yes, but much against her will.’ Her lashes flickered. ‘Cumberland is all of capable of such a thing. She might have cried out, might have called for help, but there was her husband, sick and suffering with a broken leg in uncomfortable splints. It was not a moment to make her shame known. Further, it was Cumberland she would have had to denounce, and, though he would not have given a fig for it, I vow he would have paid her out in a most unpretty fashion.’
‘And so she yielded,’ said the captain.
‘Only in shame and anguish, sir.’
‘Quite so, marm.’
Caroline frowned. ‘You are cynical, sir?’ she said.
‘Experienced,’ said the captain.
‘In ravishment?’ she enquired coldly.
‘In my observation of human weakness,’ smiled the captain.
Caroline frowned again. The truth was of a shaming kind, according to Hester herself. In desperation and tears she had confessed all to Caroline. Cumberland had indeed ravished her, despite her resistance, a resistance weakened by the circumstances and perhaps, yes, perhaps by the magnetic quality of the man. Hester had blushed vividly in confessing this, in confessing all that had led to her eventual submission, and Caroline remembered all too clearly how Cumberland had attempted to bring her to bed at Great Wivenden. Hester said that after her shameful submission she had begged Cumberland to leave, but he had stayed, he had shared her bed until dawn. Much to her further shame, instead of doing the only obvious thing – slipping from the bed herself and going down to keep her suffering husband company by sleeping in a chair beside him – she had allowed Cumberland to stay and had stayed herself. He took full advantage of this and further ravishment took place during the night, and she was horrified by the extent of her submission. Worse, she conceived a carnal passion for him, a passion that was a quite unspeakable consequence of her shameful night. She became his mistress, his infatuated mistress.
‘Yes, weakness did exist,’ said Caroline, returning to the subject after her long, reflective pause, ‘and I vow it a despairing thing in such a sweet woman as Lady Russell. She did conceive a passion for Cumberland. Myself, I should have conceived only a desire to strike the man dead.’
‘We are at the point, marm,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘where I may assume Cumberland has a revealing letter of hers and uses it to bring her to his bed from time to time?’
‘You assume correctly,’ said Caroline, ‘and she is in utter distraction, for her ardour died after a few brief months and she is terrified her husband will discover her guilt. If you can procure that letter from Cumberland, you will be gratefully rewarded. Since he is blackmailing her, I trust I can rely on you to see that the biter is bitten. You can accomplish this at the card table, achieving such substantial IOUs as to compel him to give up the letter in exchange for them. Such are the debts of all the royal dukes that they are never in any position to remit payment of heavy gambling losses. Cumberland is an avid, addicted gambler. No sooner will he hear that you are renowned at cards yourself than he will want to set to with you at once. You will ensure he loses very heavily.’
Captain Burnside mused on what was coolly expected of him. ‘I shall need money, marm, and luck.’
‘I will provide you with funds, sir. But luck, do you say? What need do you have of luck when you own so many accomplishments?’ Caroline’s softly drawn vowels were laden with irony. ‘You are a consummate cheat, are you not? That is to say, you can palm a card or cause a dice to fall as you wish without arousing the smallest suspicion?’
‘Well, it’s true I’ve had moments when all has been won by dexterous sleight of hand,’ said the captain, regarding her with much thought. To Caroline, he seemed to be musing on the feminine appeal of her fashionably low décolleté, which did not please her at all. ‘Cumberland,’ he murmured, ‘ain’t known to be a dunderhead, however, and his one sound eye is wickedly keen.’
‘Is one sound eye keener than the sharp talents of a virtuoso? Or have you merely been offering me the conceits of a braggart?’
‘Substantial IOUs,’ said the captain thoughtfully. ‘Very well, marm, consider it done.’
‘I hope, sir,’ said Caroline with asperity, ‘that you don’t think me simple enough to accept that particular conceit. The matter will be accomplished when it has been. It will not be accomplished merely by your saying so.’
‘We shall see, marm, we shall see.’
‘So we shall,’ she said, ‘and I declare myself hopeful. But I should not be true to my honour if I did not warn you that Cumberland is an adversary as dangerous as Satan. One mistake, one wrong move, and I vow you are like to be discovered in the Thames, drowned and very dead.’
‘As a professional hireling, marm, I accept the risks.’
‘I commend you for that,’ she said. ‘Now, sir, what are your present circumstances?’
‘In faith, I’m deucedly short of the ready,’ admitted the captain, ‘if that’s what you mean.’
‘Most men who live by their wits own thin purses,’ said Caroline. ‘Have you never considered honest work?’
Captain Burnside appeared pained. ‘God forbid, marm, I should ever become a porter or a shipping clerk.’
‘Either might keep you from ending up in prison,’ she declared. ‘I find it difficult to believe your father was a bishop.’
‘Well, so he was, marm, and died in a state of peace and beatitude. I had not then disturbed his soul by becoming the family black sheep.’
‘I do declare, you are singularly deplorable, sir,’ she said. ‘Are you not ashamed that, as the son of a gentle mother and a man of God, you are a self-confessed rake and even a thief?’
‘I assure you, marm, I could own finer principles if I weren’t so poor.’
‘Hard, honest work would lift you out of poverty, Captain Burnside. Now, I shall advance you fifty guineas. It will cover such expenses as you entail. You are to come to this house on Friday, bringing a suitable wardrobe with you. You will profess to be an old friend of mine, lately returned to England from service abroad, and my guest for a period. Do you still own a uniform?’
‘I do,’ said the captain. ‘I find on occasions it can induce a young lady to regard me as becoming, valiant and deserving …’
‘Spare me these ridiculous irrelevancies, sir,’ said Caroline. ‘Bring your uniform. Is the rest of your wardrobe as acceptable as that which you are wearing now?’
‘I confess, marm, that part of your advance will sweeten my tailor and persuade him to release to me two new coats, some silk cravats and—’
‘Yes, yes,’ she said in some impatience. ‘Meet the costs out of the advance.’
‘I’m obliged, marm, very,’ he said.
‘So you should be, for in giving you any monies at all I am placing almost foolish trust in you.’ Caroline opened a drawer and took out a soft leather bag of coins. She pushed it across the desk to him. ‘Fifty guineas in gold,’ she said.
‘I’m deeply obliged, marm,’ he said, slipping the bag into his pocket without opening it, and this at least she appreciated.
‘Am I now faced with the possibility that you’ll decamp?’ she asked.
‘You have my word that I won’t,’ said the captain.
‘I accept the risk that you might.’
‘Be assured, Your Ladyship, that there’s no risk, for you’re now my patron.’ He coughed. ‘Ah – we haven’t discussed the fee. You’ll forgive my mention of it?’
‘I should have been surprised if you had forgotten to,’ she said. ‘Your fee, sir, will be two hundred guineas.’
‘Marm?’ Captain Burnside looked a little put out. ‘That’s part of the whole?’
‘That, sir, is the whole, in addition to the fifty guineas for your expenses.’ Caroline was firm. ‘It’s an amount that will keep you very comfortably for more than a year. I consider it very generous, especially as you have implied the venture was no sooner agreed than accomplished.’
‘Quite so,’ said the captain, ‘which is to say that a professional of my class must command a worthier fee than a bungling amateur.’
‘Two hundred guineas and expenses amount to a fee as worthy as you could command from anyone.’ Caroline was on her mettle, determined to be in control of the relationship, the man himself and all events. ‘Such a sum would set you up in a small business and enable you to earn an honest living.’
‘Ye gods,’ said the shocked captain, ‘a small business? An honest living? Marm, am I to endure boredom?’
‘If you prefer to continue with your dubious practices, Captain Burnside, that is your affair. But very well, since you will be up against a dangerous man in Cumberland, I will raise the fee to two hundred and fifty, and not a cent more.’
‘I’m touched, marm. Done, then. Two fifty and expenses.’
‘However,’ said Caroline, straight of back and firm of bosom, ‘you will be paid only if you succeed. Half if you succeed with one or the other, the whole if you succeed with both. But nothing, sir, if you fail altogether, for you will have proclaimed your gifts dishonestly.’
‘H’m,’ said Captain Burnside, and smiled. ‘I see I’m to serve a critical patron.’
‘You are, sir, be in no doubt of that,’ she said. ‘Well?’
‘Your servant, marm.’
‘Cumberland will be here Friday evening for supper.’
‘Egad, d’you say so?’ Captain Burnside looked intrigued. ‘Do I take it, marm, that you’re on intimate terms with him, that you too find the devil has his own kind of appeal?’
An angry flush suffused her. ‘How dare you draw such an inference, how dare you? Be very clear, sir, that I detest Cumberland. But that is not to say I spend my time quarrelling with him. I know him well, and he knows me just as well. I am civil to him, and he is always himself.’ She looked up as the door opened. She simulated a welcoming smile, showing teeth that were moistly white and even between her parted lips. ‘Annabelle, how nice that you are back from shopping at this moment, for you are in time to meet an old friend of mine, Captain Charles Burnside.’
Captain Burnside came to his feet. Lady Caroline’s sister advanced, smiling.