The lawyer entered. “I could not help but hear you and Mr. Lytherby arguing, Henry. I confess I’m a little dismayed that you went against my advice,” he said.
Summer almost wanted to laugh. A little dismayed? He was sick to the stomach! She studied him. He was pale, but controlled to the point of tenseness, she decided. This latter observation encouraged her, for it suggested he might not be as difficult to unsettle as she’d feared.
Suddenly, he noticed her. “Why, Mrs. Courtenay, I did not realize you were here.”
“Sir.” She inclined her head and went to sit on a chair by the window.
Her uncle gestured his brother-in-law to another chair. “Please be seated, George, for we may as well be comfortable.”
The lawyer flicked his dark coattails as he sat down. “Before you commence, Henry, I regret I’ve received unexpected word from London and have to leave immediately. I’ve already ordered my carriage to be made ready. I do hope you accept my heartfelt apologies.”
Summer’s lips twitched, for the words were too transparent for belief.
“Of course I do, George,” Uncle Merriam replied, but lowered his glance thoughtfully.
“So what is it you wish to say to me, Henry?”
“Well, it concerns this business with Francis Lytherby. I...” Caro’s father glanced at Summer. “Perhaps you had better proceed, Olivia.”
A new guardedness swept into George Bradshaw’s small eyes. “I, er, fail to see how Mrs. Courtenay and I can have anything to say on such a delicate subject,” he murmured.
She looked at him. “On the contrary, Mr. Bradshaw, I have a great deal to say. To begin with, not one word of your disgraceful charge against Francis Lytherby is true.”
Affecting to be insulted, he leapt to his feet. “I will not be called a liar, madam!”
“But you are a liar, sir,” she replied quietly.
Caro’s father waved him to sit down again. “Please, Henry.”
With an ill grace, the lawyer resumed his place. “As you wish, but I remain here under protest if Mrs. Courtenay intends to impugn my honor.”
Uncle Merriam looked at her. “Proceed, my dear.”
She nodded. “Mr. Bradshaw, you have invented this tale about Francis because in order to avoid debtor’s jail you have to do what Lord Lytherby wishes.”
Uncle Merriam’s jaw dropped, and he stared at her. “Olivia, my dear, I trust you can back up such a shocking assertion?”
“Yes, Uncle, I can,” she replied.
George Bradshaw leapt to his feet again and crashed his fist down upon Uncle Merriam’s desk with such force that the inkstand rattled. “Oh, no, you can’t, madam, for every word is grossly untrue!” he cried.
Meeting his eyes without a single flinch, she repeated verbatim the conversation she’d overheard.
His face went more and more pale, and when she finished, he tried to reply in a level tone. “This is the most preposterous and malicious invention I have ever heard. Lord Lytherby cannot hold IOU’s that do not exist! No, this is just a mischievous female scheme to assist my poor niece to cling to a match upon which she has misguidedly set her heart! Have you no conscience? Does it not concern you that Caro will be made deeply unhappy if she becomes Francis Lytherby’s wife?”
“There is nothing misguided about Caro’s love for Francis, sir.”
His eyes rested hatefully on her. “And since when have you had any real thought for your cousin, Mrs. Courtenay?” he asked softly.
“What do you mean by that?” she demanded, but her heart tightened uneasily as she realized he’d guessed more than she hoped at the Black Lion.
“Oh, I think you know, Mrs. Courtenay. I refer to the questionable scene I happened upon in yard of the Black Lion in Tetbury. Was Sir Brand departing without paying for services rendered?”
Uncle Merriam got up hastily from his seat. “George!”
The lawyer turned to him. “Don’t be fooled by this young woman, Henry, for she is not the lady she pretends to be; far from it, in fact. I arrived at the Black Lion to find her running after Sir Brand Huntingford in a most undignified and shocking manner, so I made one or two inquiries at the inn. Inn servants are very observant, my dear, and most communicative if their palms are crossed with a coin or two. I learned that Mrs. Courtenay had spent the previous night in her room with Sir Brand Huntingford, whom she had met only a few hours before! They were witnessed kissing tenderly as they parted on the gallery at dawn.”
Uncle Merriam looked at Summer, who was now at such a disadvantage that humiliated color flooded into her cheeks. The situation she’d dreaded since the Black Lion had now come about, and she was so stricken she almost lost her nerve, but from nowhere her courage suddenly flooded back, and she raised her chin haughtily.
“If you knew this, Mr. Bradshaw, why did you not tell Lord Lytherby? After all, I’m sure he would prefer the match to be ended due to the scandalous behavior of a member of the unwanted bride’s family, than because of a monstrous calumny against his son!” she cried, silently giving thanks that the lawyer hadn’t also found out about her dinner assignation with Jeremy.
He met her eyes without replying.
His silence made her mind race, for it suggested she had always had a safety net she still couldn’t perceive. What was it? Why hadn’t he used his knowledge? Suddenly, it came to her, and she gave a cry of triumph.
“Of course! You couldn’t say anything because you knew that Sir Brand, being a true gentleman, would promptly protect my reputation by denying every word.” The irony of it made her almost want to laugh, for the lawyer had realized the one thing she herself had not—that Brand was a man of honor!
Fury quivered visibly through him. “Oh, how very sure of yourself you are, madam, but I fear your smug confidence is a little premature. Maybe I could not employ my knowledge where Lord Lytherby was concerned, and maybe Sir Brand would indeed shield your reputation, but after your despicable charges against me today, can you suggest a reason why I should not secretly acquaint London society with every wanton detail? There are many newspapers eager to fill their columns with on dits. I’m sure the beau monde would be immensely titillated to learn how lewdly Major Courtenay’s apparently upstanding widow conducts herself when she stays at country inns! I have nothing to lose; you most certainly do!”
She didn’t flinch. “Do that and you’d have to face Sir Brand,” she declared with confidence, then added, “He always carries a pistol, you know.”
His eyes wavered.
She pressed her advantage finally home. “As soon as Francis returns to Bevincote and informs his father what happened here today, you can be sure that jail awaits you. Ending the match with Caro may have been Lord Lytherby’s aim, but certainly not at the expense of his son’s reputation! He’ll be furious enough to carry out his threat—what was it? That he’d tear your heart out with his bare hands?”
The lawyer was completely silent.
Caro’s father, who was shaken to discover what had been going on, rose slowly from his chair. “Your silence speaks volumes, George. Clearly Olivia is the one telling the truth, sir,” he said coldly.
The other capitulated suddenly. “I had to do it, Henry! Lytherby does hold my IOU’s, and forced me to assist him to destroy the match if I wished to redeem them! I could think of no more certain way to end it than to cast doubt upon the groom’s suitability! And if you’d only held your lunatic tongue, all would have been well!”
Uncle Merriam looked at him with utter dislike. “For you maybe, but certainly not for Caro. Get out of this house, George,” he said quietly.
“Henry, I—”
“Get out! I never want to see your miserable face again!”
The lawyer turned on his heel and hurried away.
As his footsteps died away up the staircase, Uncle Merriam turned to Olivia. “So that is how you and Sir Brand became acquainted,” he murmured.
Her cheeks flamed again. “I’ve never behaved like that before, Uncle Merriam, truly I haven’t, but when I met Brand, I mean Sir Brand, I...” Her voice limped to a halt, and she bit her lip before looking at him again. “I just couldn’t help myself; I love him with all my heart.”
“And so you spent the night with him?”
“Yes.”
He drew a long breath. “Well, as it happens your conduct—or rather misconduct—hasn’t made the slightest difference to the situation, for I am the one who has in the end brought Caro’s life tumbling about her ears.” He sat down unhappily. “Oh, Olivia, how am I going to right the terrible wrong I’ve done to Francis, and how am I going to repair the damage I’ve done to Caro’s happiness?”
“Uncle, it was George Bradshaw’s doing on Lord Lytherby’s behalf; you were merely the unwitting tool,” she said gently, her heart almost breaking for him because she and Brand suspected Lord Lytherby’s opposition had become a thing of the past anyway.
He sighed. “Ah, yes, Lord Lytherby. Well, if he is now so set against the match that he is prepared to stoop to such vile methods, I cannot see there is any point in my attempting to put matters right with Francis. What happiness will there be for poor Caro if Lytherby despises and resents her?”
“But there has to be a way of undoing all this damage. Uncle, you may as well know that last night Brand convinced me that Lord Lytherby had given up all thought of opposing the match with Caro. Maybe the things that were said here today were heinous, but they can be retracted, can’t they?”
“I would willingly retract them, my dear, but right now I cannot imagine that even if I were to write a letter to Francis, its fate would be anything other than to be ripped up and burned.”
“Brand will help us, Uncle, I know he will.”
“And put his friendship with Francis at risk?”
“Brand and I are allies in this, so I must get word to him without further delay, for the sooner he learns that you now know the whole truth and wish to right the wrong, the better.”
A scheme was already beginning to form in her mind, and she caught up her skirts to hurry up to Caro’s apartment.
Her uncle gazed perplexedly after her. “What are you going to do, Olivia?” he called, but she didn’t even glance back.
Caro was lying on the bed, her face hidden in her pillows, and her red-gold hair was a tangle that would take an age to comb. She still sobbed a little, but was much more quiet now. Gwenny was standing next to her and turned relievedly as Summer entered. “Oh, there you are, madam. I think the orange flower water has worked a little,” she said.
“I’m sure it has, Gwenny,” Summer said reassuringly.
“Shall I go now, madam?”
“No, for it’s you I wish to speak to.” Summer drew the puzzled maid over to the window and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Gwenny, is Miss Huntingford’s maid a relative of yours?”
Gwenny nodded. “Why, yes, madam, Martha’s my cousin.”
“I thought so, she looks so like you.”
“Oh, we’re almost like peas in a pod,” Gwenny smiled.
Summer paused as she noticed George Bradshaw’s carriage driving out through the gates, then come up to breakneck speed toward Berkeley, hurtling along the lane as if the Gabriel hounds were in pursuit. Or Lord Lytherby. She felt no compassion. Let him face the consequences, she thought, then turned to Gwenny again. “Apart from Martha, does anyone at Bevincote know you work here?”
Puzzled, Gwenny shook her head. “No, madam.”
“Good, because I want you to do something for me. I’m going to write a letter to Sir Brand Huntingford, and I want you to take it immediately to Bevincote in the pony trap. You are to give Martha the letter and tell her to give it secretly and without delay to Sir Brand.”
The maid’s eyes widened. “Secretly, madam?”
“It’s vital, Gwenny. No one else is to know about it, no one at all. Do you understand?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Please get ready to leave, and I’ll write the letter now.”
“Yes, madam.”