Gail Eastwood (20 page)

“It won’t be a poem this time,” Venetia said as Vivian picked it up and broke the seal.

“No, you are right,” she said, scanning it quickly. “These are instructions, for you.”

Chapter Twenty

The twins were not able to get a moment alone with Nicholas until after they had broken their fast on Saturday morning. As soon as they had finished eating, they convened for a war council in one of the small anterooms. There they presented the blackmailer’s note to him along with Vivian’s news. She and Ashurst had obtained her father’s blessing with no difficulty, but the official announcement was to be held until the ball.

Venetia watched the emotions play across her brother’s face. His joy over Vivian’s betrothal was tempered by the seriousness of the situation they faced this morning. After congratulating Vivian and wishing her happy with a brotherly hug, he suggested that the twins sit down.

“I would give anything to be able to celebrate this good news freely,” he said, standing by the fireplace and tapping the blackmailer’s note repeatedly against his palm. “Unfortunately we still must deal with this other matter. There is even more at stake now than ever. I suppose it is time for me to tell you that Lord Munslow is our villain.”

“Lord Munslow!” The twins exchanged a glance, both much chagrined.

“I did wonder about him, but he seemed to have no motive. I was certain that our poet and our villain could not be one and the same,” Venetia said. “Yet. I suppose it makes sense. He clearly had a way to deliver the notes to our room, and if anyone had seen him, he could have claimed they were merely more poems. And blackmail is a gamble. The scheme probably even had a certain appeal to as dedicated a gamester as he appears to be.”

She shivered, thinking back to the charming way he had kissed her hand during the show Wednesday evening. “I think I would have preferred it to be the Duke of Thornborough, old as he is. It made him seem more human, somehow, to think that his pride might cover such desperation about his fleeing years. Or even Lord Newcroft, with his ambitions. Both of their reasons draw more sympathy than Lord Munslow’s. I assume he needs my dowry?”

Nicholas nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “Cranford learned that he is deeply in debt. I’m sure our family looked like a bottomless honey pot when he realized the value of the secret he had learned.”

“How did he know?” Vivian asked softly, her fists and her voice tight.

“Do you remember a young groom named Joseph? He was one of the ones who left after you developed the epilepsy. I’m sure he never meant any harm—it probably just slipped out one day, perhaps when Munslow said he’d been invited to come here.”

Venetia glanced anxiously at the longcase clock that stood in one corner. “What shall we do if Lord Cranford has not returned before eleven o’clock, Nicholas? He would have had to leave London by early last evening to arrive by then!”

“Do not underestimate my friend Cranford, ladies,” Nicholas said, not for the first time. “It is perfectly possible that he might have done that, if he found the proof he was seeking.”

“I will have to go ahead and meet with Lord Munslow as he instructed,” Venetia said soberly. “Alone.”

“Do you think I could tell Ashurst what is happening?” Vivian asked. “I don’t know how he could fail to notice that something is going on. Perhaps we might need his help.”

“He is obviously both honorable and discreet. Yes, Vivi, I think that another ally might be a wise idea at this point. We really don’t know how Munslow is going to react when he learns he has been thwarted. I don’t like the idea of you going to meet him alone, Netia, but I also hope it won’t be necessary. What I will suggest is that we position ourselves to keep an eye on him until then. I do not trust the man, and I don’t want to risk that he has set any kind of trap for you.”

“Where is he now?”

“He was in the room eating breakfast when we were. Perhaps he had it in mind to keep an eye on us! If that is so, we should have no difficulty finding him. Some of the guests were going to set up a game of ninepins on the lawn. Perhaps we could set up a few other games as well, and get him involved in one.”

Vivian went off to find Ashurst and enlist his help, and Venetia and Nicholas went off to find Lord Munslow. It seemed Nicholas’s theory might have been correct, for Lord Munslow was easy to find and seemed more than willing to take part in some games. Ashurst and Vivian joined them a few minutes later, and they played trap-ball and ninepins until it was nearly eleven. There had been no sign of Cranford.

“Oh, this is certainly fatiguing,” Venetia exclaimed, hiding the fact that her heart was in her throat. “I think I shall go in and try to find a cold drink. Shall I have some refreshments sent out to the rest of you?”

Clearly Lord Cranford was not going to be there in time, despite Nicholas’s faith in him. After all, Cranford had no way of knowing that he needed to be back at any particular time as long as he returned before the ball.

Lord Munslow’s expression betrayed nothing at all. He declined her offer along with the others, but made no move to leave off playing. Venetia had half expected him to offer to accompany her. She took her leave, heading to the house for appearance’s sake before she went out again through the garden.

The crafty earl had chosen his site well, suggesting they meet in the gazebo at the far end of the garden. Screened by topiary, it was remote and very private. Reluctant and nervous, Venetia tried to appear casual as she strolled through the paths. A number of guests were scattered about in the various terraced levels of the garden, but there was no one near the end where the gazebo stood.

Fully expecting to have to sit and wait for Lord Munslow, Venetia was disconcerted to smell lilacs as she pushed past the huge bushes and went up the steps of the entrance.
Now what shall I do?
she thought. Someone else was sitting on the bench inside the gazebo.

***

Gilbey had dozed on and off as Nicholas’s carriage hurtled along the Gloucester Road from London. He and Nicholas’s coachman had set out from town Friday night as soon as he knew there was nothing more he could do there. He had promised a lavish reward to compensate the man for his loss of sleep and the best speed he could make.

Awake since their last stop to change horses, Gilbey stared out the window and tried to shake off the strange feeling left by the dreams that had plagued his sleep. In the dreams he had felt lost, like a man who had taken a wrong turn without knowing it. He had checked with the coachman twice to be certain they were on the right road to reach Rivington. He knew the man must think him mad, since Nicholas traveled the route often enough.

He blamed the letter he had received from Gillian in part for the dreams. He had read it Thursday on his way to London, and several times since then. She had written once again of her blissful life with her husband and family and had criticized him again for his solitary ways. It was her comparing him to his father that bothered him most. Why could she not see that he had chosen his path precisely to avoid ending up like their father? Yet in his dreams he had been in his father’s study at Cliffcombe instead of in his own back at Cambridge. Everywhere he looked he saw Venetia—poised on the desk, putting books on the shelves, even spinning his father’s globe with a sinful smile.

It was natural that he should feel uneasy, he reasoned. He did not know what might have been happening at Rivington in his absence. He needed to be there. Any man who could coolly gamble the amounts that Munslow owed in London while keeping the entire
ton
in the dark had a dangerously devious mind. That Venetia should be at his mercy for any time at all was unthinkable—unbearable.
Hurry.
It was all he could do not to add his shouts to the snap of the coachman’s whip over the horses’ heads.

He was out of the carriage almost before it stopped when they finally reached Rivington, pausing only to snatch some papers off the seat at the last moment. Racing into the hall as he stuffed them under his arm, he almost ran over Blaine, the steward’s assistant. He quickly learned that the twins had been playing games out on the lawn and he hastened back outside.

Nicholas, Vivian, Lord Ashurst, and a few others were engaged in trap-ball as he came hurrying around the corner of the house. He slowed down as he realized that Lord Munslow was also among them. He saw no sign of Venetia. Why wasn’t she with them? He did not wish to precipitate a confrontation with Munslow prematurely, so he headed toward the terrace outside the grand salon. He would find a footman to bring Nicholas to him.

“Where is Venetia?” he demanded as soon as his friend appeared. “Why is she not with you?”

“Thank God you are back!” Nicholas said, the worry on his face now very apparent. “She is supposed to be meeting with Munslow even as we are speaking, but he has made no move at all to keep the tryst. We don’t know what to think. Could we have been wrong? But how can we suddenly break off now and go haring off to investigate? What if he is testing us to see if she told anyone?”

Gilbey’s fears rose like bile in his throat, but he choked them back. Clear thinking had never been so essential. “I can go,” he said. “No one knows I have returned—I’m sure I turned off before any of the guests saw me. Where is she?”

He formed a plan. “You must end the game and bring Munslow to the gazebo in a few minutes,” he said tersely. “I will go now. If we are wrong about him he can help us apprehend the real villain. If not, it will no longer matter if he learns the jig is up. Don’t wait too long.”

***

Lady Norbridge looked at Venetia with what could only be called a sly smile.

“Meeting someone, my dear? Funny, I was beginning to think of this little shelter as my own personal
boudoir.
Much more private than the house, don’t you agree?”

Dear God, what can I say to get rid of her,
Venetia thought desperately.

“I never would have taken you for the type, actually, but then after running into you the other day in the garden, I’d have to say appearances can be deceiving. Aren’t they?” She began to laugh, and Venetia nearly panicked over the thought that Lord Munslow might be approaching and would hear her.

“Please, Lady Norbridge,” she began, but the countess cut her off.

“Oh, am I making you nervous? Is your friend due any moment? I can put your mind at ease. It is actually you I have been waiting for.” She clicked open the watch that hung from her belt. “You are a minute or two late, are you not? Ah, I see that we have surprised you.”

Venetia opened her mouth and closed it again, remembering just in time that she still was not supposed to know who she was meeting.

“So touching, your concern for your sister’s privacy. Such a tragedy that a beautiful girl like her should be saddled with a hideous, incurable malady. But then, many people’s tragedies make profitable secrets. You are ready to meet our terms, I take it? Perhaps you will not be totally averse to marriage with my partner. He is not really such a bad sort, at least not to look at. It is unfortunate that he cannot hold on to a single farthing that comes his way.”

“Your partner?”

“Lord Munslow. Surprised you again, haven’t I? We became a team soon after my husband died. We discovered we both had appetites that far exceed our capacity to satisfy them. Few people are aware of the connection. We find it more profitable to keep it that way.”

Venetia realized with growing horror that Lady Norbridge meant she had victimized others before the St. Aldwyns, and apparently intended to continue.

“H-how much money do you need?” she asked. “Would it not be better if I married someone wealthy? I could still pay you for your silence.”

“I thought that, but Lord Munslow actually desires to wed you, my dear. He does need to produce an heir, after all. Being connected by marriage to one of the highest-ranked families short of royalty rather appeals to him.”

Venetia thought of the poems he had written and felt a little sick to her stomach. The idea of carrying the child of such a villain repelled her thoroughly.

“I suppose no amount of money would be sufficient to equal that.” It was Cranford’s voice.

Venetia whirled around to see him standing between the huge yews at the entrance to the gazebo.

“Lord Cranford!” uttered Lady Norbridge in surprise.

“Yes, quite.” He advanced up the few steps to join them. “Pray, do not let me interrupt you, Lady Norbridge. I was finding your discussion most enlightening. Although I admit that I was already aware of some parts of it.” He patted the folded papers under his arm.

Lady Norbridge blanched. “Wh-what is that?”

“Oh, you’ll learn that momentarily. Let us just wait for the others to arrive, shall we?”

“Others?”

“Yes. Your partner is coming with Lord Edmonton and Lord Ashurst, I believe. I wouldn’t advise you to try to leave before they get here.”

Venetia was amazed by the tone of menace in his voice.

“I’m curious to know how a pair like you and Lord Munslow managed to be included in a select gathering like this one,” Cranford continued.

Lady Norbridge looked at him with a venomous expression, her eyes narrowed. “We are welcomed in all the best circles, Lord Cranford. Lord Munslow is thought to be exceedingly plump in the pockets because of his extravagant ways. People like Lady Colney are easy to fool. All I had to do was drop a hint that he might be interested in her nieces and—
voilà
—we were put on the list.”

Within another minute, the other three men arrived. Vivian was with them. Wordlessly she went to Venetia and hugged her, taking hold of her hand protectively.

Cranford studied Lord Munslow and Lady Norbridge for a moment before he spoke. “I have just returned from London,” he then announced, “where I went in search of a groom employed by Lord Munslow, one Joseph Stone, for the purpose of obtaining a deposition.” He patted the papers under his arm. “Shall I read these to you?”

Lady Norbridge turned to Lord Munslow. “I didn’t think Joseph knew about our plans. You fool! How could you have let him know?”

“I never let on to him,” the earl hissed at her. “He must have overheard you. You should have been more careful!”

“I’m afraid we know a good deal about your scheme, Lord Munslow, and also about certain parties in London who have been quite discreet about monies you owe to them.”