All I Ever Needed (32 page)

Cara's dark blue eyes narrowed in their study until she was satisfied as to Sophie's sincerity. "As I said, it is very brief.
"The engagement of Lady S____ C____ to G____ W____, Marquess of E____, was made public yesterday evening at the home of Lord Barlough. The announcement was greeted with enthusiasm by those attending the debut vocal performance of soprano Miss Harriet Mathews. Miss Mathews chose a selection of arias, difficult in both their range and phrasing and...'"
Cara stopped and put the paper down. "The rest of it does not matter, though it appears Miss Mathews was judged to be a success. I trust you can complete the blanks." She stretched her hand toward Sophie, willing her to take it a moment. When she did, Cara squeezed her fingers gently. "It is a scandal sheet. Nothing more. You must not be overset by what is printed there."

Sophie nodded unconvincingly. She felt compelled to point out, "You announced yourself that you could well have choked on the news."

"Yes, but I am given to fits. I do not possess your singular composure."

"I'm afraid that at the moment I am not in possession of it either."

Cara squeezed Sophie's hand again. "You will find it, just see if you don't." She drew back and pointed to the offending column. "Gabriel may very well have cause to send his solicitor around to the
Gazette.
This is gossip of the worst sort, and one can't help but take exception to it." She glanced at Sophie again and saw the younger woman had paled alarmingly. "I did not mean that I would object to the engagement; never say you thought that was my intent. On the contrary, I would approve of such a match since I cannot help but believe it would be advantageous for both of you. I confess, however, that my hope for such a thing dwindles daily as Gabriel has yet to make his promised visit here."

Cara did not miss the faint quiver of Sophie's chin or the brightening of her eyes. Neither of these things was much improved by Sophie biting on her lower lip or blinking rapidly. Cara sighed. "I am making a muddle of it. You are feeling far worse than when I started, and I am deeply sorry for that, Lady Sophia. I wish I might apologize for my brother as well, but I have no notion why he is being so perfectly disagreeable. I am out of sorts with him, you know, and am of a mind to write to him directly and tell him so."

"Pray, do not apologize to me on any account." Sophie's determined smile was weakened by its watery nature. "I will never be able to repay your many kindnesses. My presence here is proof of the deep affection you bear your brother, and I would not see you even mildly annoyed with him. I am quite certain he is blameless."

"Gabriel is never blamed," Cara said wryly. "And he is always responsible." She saw Sophie's confusion and spoke to ease it. "Never mind. It is unimportant. You only need know that he is horribly indulged by my mother and me and that we are unlikely to change in our attitude, no matter how aggrieved we are made by him." Cara poked her finger at the paper. "This is not his doing, however, and I am depending on your good sense to know that."

"I do," Sophie assured her. Even in light of Eastlyn's insistence that she should marry him, Sophie was able to acquit him of this particular effort. "But how can you be so certain?"

"It is simple, really. A true announcement would not fail to give your names. That is done for the paper's protection. It improves circulation, I suspect, giving rise as it does to indecent speculation among the ton. No one approves of it publicly, of course, but privately this sort of gossip is quite warmly greeted." She scanned the particulars again. "The announcement is attributable to no one, which likely means it was merely the subject of discussion among the guests at this recital rather than a formal statement of intent. Further, my mother would be present at such an announcement, and I know from her correspondence that she has answered no invitations for a musicale. My brother does not care a whit for sopranos and has never counted himself as a friend of Lord Barlough, so it is unlikely that he was present at this recital. More to the point, there is no mention of any altercation or gloves being dropped, and I can assure you that had this engagement been discussed in any gathering save for Gabriel's family and closest friends, someone would have been called upon to make amends for it."

Sophie touched her fingers to her chin, afraid she was gaping at her hostess. She knew of at least one time Eastlyn had settled a dispute with pistols, had even called him a murderer for it, but it had taken place many years ago, and she did not really think of him in that way in spite of her harsh pronouncement to the contrary. "He told me he used to regularly thrash the other boys at Hambrick, but you cannot mean he would serve someone a facer in so public a setting."

Cara gave Sophie a sidelong glance, complete with one perfectly arched eyebrow. She looked so much like her brother in that moment that Sophie felt her insides twist curiously. "He has always been restrained with me," Sophie said. "Even when I have sorely abused his charity."

"Yes," Cara said. "That is very much like him also." Her face softened. "You are right, though. He would not serve someone a facer at a public recital. I am remembering the quickly riled boy he was and forgetting the man he has become. It is more likely that he would make a challenge to join him at that gentlemen's boxing salon that he frequents." Cara picked up the paper and turned it over so it would not give her further offense. "The fact remains he would not permit this rumor to gain support if he was in hearing of it. I hope you will forgive my blunt speaking, but this has Mrs. Sawyer's fine prints all over it."

Sophie frowned. She was so certain of Tremont's or Harold's hand in the matter it didn't occur that the responsibility might lie elsewhere. "Mrs. Sawyer?" she asked. The name meant nothing to her until she witnessed Cara's discomfort. "Oh. You are speaking of your brother's mistress."

"She is no longer his mistress," Cara said firmly. "And it gives me great pain to speak of her at all. I do not make my opinion known to Gabriel on matters of this nature—he is unmarried and does as many of his set do—but I have had reservations regarding his choice of this paramour. I have never met her, of course, so I am guilty of precisely the same speculation I despise in others. Gabriel is my brother, however, so what am I to do when I hear that she is like a cold not easily shaken?"

When Sophie's eyes brightened this time it was because she was amused, not alarmed. She discovered a measure of her appetite had returned, and she spread a dollop of strawberry jam on her toast as Cara continued.

"I can appreciate that she would not want to be cast aside, but to have the effrontery to think that Gabriel would marry her, that is completely objectionable. That is why she left him, you know, because he would not be brought around to marriage. Oh, I know such things are done on occasion, but they cause such heartache for the families and rarely turn out well for the parties involved. Gabriel would not do it. He would not let his heart become engaged to a woman so well known for her avarice."

"Perhaps he was unaware of her rapacious nature."

"Do you really think my brother is so lacking in intelligence that he could not see such a thing for himself?" She did not give Sophie opportunity to answer what was a strictly rhetorical question. "More likely he was amused by it. He is invariably amused by things the rest of us find distasteful. That is not to say he finds it tolerable, only diverting after a fashion. It is my opinion that he had it set very well in his mind what she was and was going to end their arrangement soon. If Mrs. Sawyer is as shrewd as she is purported to be, she would have sensed this and acted accordingly."

"You are not at all sympathetic toward her?" asked Sophie. "Her situation is unenviable."

"Her situation is of her own making, but it is perhaps a flaw in my character that I cannot be charitable."

No, Sophie thought, it was another measure of how much Cara loved her brother. She would write to Eastlyn herself, she decided, this very afternoon, and let him know he did not have to travel to his sister's home to acquit himself of wrongdoing. Unlike Cara, Sophie was not at all distressed when East failed to arrive at Chipping Campden but had allowed his letter to speak for him.

He had further acquitted himself by sending a timely message by cornier that something had occurred requiring his attention in London. In this manner he hoped to put a period to his sister's worry. It did not, however, keep Cara from speculating on the nature of his London business, and she fretted for several days until her husband requested that she cease her musings, or at least make them silent ones. His interference was timely because Sophie had been on the verge of making a full confession for her part in provoking Eastlyn to go. She doubted that Cara would have been so charitable toward her if she knew the truth.

If Cara could understand that Mrs. Sawyer deeply desired marriage to her brother, how would she ever comprehend that Sophie did not?

* * *

The colonel rolled his wheelchair around so he no longer faced the fireplace. He tapped his spectacles until they rested low on his nose and treated Eastlyn to a long and level look over the gold rims. "You have nothing else for me?" he asked. "You have spent more months than I care to contemplate on this enterprise."

"Five," East said. "The opposition will not be moved."

The colonel shook his head. "Five months. As long as that? I wish you had not made it so clear."

"You knew." He glanced at the tall clock standing in the corner of West's study. "You can probably make an accounting of the days and the hours."

"Very nearly." Blackwood was not smiling. "Is this because of Tremont?"

"Yes. He is gaining a considerable following. I had Helmsley's agreement to support the scheme; then he changed his mind. Said he was convinced that Tremont is in the right of things."

"What does Helmsley want?"

"A position in the Foreign Office. A clear path to becoming prime minister."

"The hell you say."

"I do say."

The colonel was silent. It seemed to him that Eastlyn had not been sleeping of late, and if it was true, it could not be entirely blamed on this assignment. Blackwood knew his work had been tireless and that he had been constrained by the need for secrecy, but it was the sort of thing that East usually thrived on. It challenged his thinking, his temper, his arguments, and his abilities. He would not give it up easily, and the colonel debated whether he should even ask. It could not hurt to change the subject. "You have talked to West?"

Eastlyn nodded. "He told me I could find you here."

"I was referring to the particulars about his father's death. Does he seem all of a piece to you?"

"Quite. I expect you will make your own assessment." Eastlyn saw the colonel's faint nod. "We were together at the club last evening. North was also there. And Southerton as well. I suppose it was our own version of a wake, save that there were no tributes made to the late Duke of Westphal. He shall remain unlamented, though I must say that West was more tolerant of his father's shortcomings than the rest of us. He has greater concerns about inheriting the title and property. It surpasses all understanding that the old duke would legitimize West's birth now."

Outside a cold, dreary November rain struck the windows. East turned in the direction of the sound, but there was little that could be seen of the street beyond. Darkness fell very early now, and the street lamps added only the most tenuous light, flickering wildly as though they might be extinguished at any moment.

It was a fitting sort of day to see the Duke of Westphal put to rest. The small gathering of mourners in West's London home was there because they were acquainted with Mr. Evan Marchman, not because they grieved for the passing of the man who had sired him. East's mother and father had come as had Southerton's parents. Even the Dowager Countess of Northam had been present for a time, amusing them by insisting that she was still out of sorts with West for breaking her beautiful son's nose twenty years earlier. No one could convince her that her son's countenance was much improved for it.

A smile edged East's mouth. The memory was a good one.

The colonel noted the change in East and was encouraged. "That is something, at least. You are noticeably lacking in humor these days."

"I can rouse myself to it."

"For your friends, I suspect."

East did not deny it.

"Is it Lady Sophia?"

"I'm not sure of your meaning."

"I think that is not true," the colonel said bluntly. "But I will explain nonetheless. I am asking if Lady Sophia has been on your mind of late and if her presence there might explain your lack of humor as well as your lack of success with the Company's proposal."

Eastlyn said carefully, "It is better that we do not discuss Lady Sophia, Colonel. As for the proposal, I shall have to redouble my efforts."

Blackwood removed his spectacles and carefully folded the stems. It was all done in aid of giving him time to think and form a reply. He might very well lose East if he pressed too hard, yet he might lose him if he did nothing at all. "I have always admired your discretion, East. Indeed, it is a quality that has made you a particular favorite of mine for assignments such as the one I gave you in June. I believe I would trust you with anything. I suppose it has never occurred to me that you would not extend the same trust to me. If it helps, I will tell you that I have learned some things about Lady Sophia on my own. You would not be talking out of school."