Lord Deverill's Secret (11 page)

A young woman with a low-cut dress who was flirting with a group of fashionably dressed men, giggled, “Oh, look at all the fans! And mine’s just broken.”

A chorus of male voices offered to buy her another one, and she laughed with them, praising the choice of one whilst rejecting the offering of another.

“What are her parents thinking of?” said Maria under her breath.”

“Don’t suppose they’re here,” said Mr. Kingsley. “Left her to the care of friends, most likely. No end of mischief a girl can get up to in Brighton.”

Cassandra could understand what he meant. The gin tents and ale stalls had tipsy gentlemen nearby, and there were so many officers that it could easily turn a girl’s head if she was not properly chaperoned. It was all colourful and noisy and, to Cassandra, who had not left the quiet and boredom of the country for years, quite wonderful.

“Ballad sheets!” exclaimed Cassandra, as a hawker walked past with a tray round his neck. “I must buy the latest one. Lizzie loves singing.”

“Lizzie?” asked Mr. Kingsley.

“My sister—”

“Oh, look. There are some prints, and by a stroke of good fortune they are exactly what I have been looking for,” said Maria, turning Mr. Kingsley’s attention to another hawker. “Will you give me your arm, Mr. Kingsley? Cassandra can join us when she has chosen her ballad.”

“Oh, er…”

“Lizzie is my younger sister, and she lives with me,” said Cassandra firmly. “She is ten years old, and since my parents and brother died, I am all she has.”

Maria had advised her not to mention her sister until she was sure of a gentleman’s affections, but Cassandra did not like the idea of deceiving anyone. Lizzie was an important part of her life and she felt that the sooner Mr. Kingsley knew about the little girl the better.

“Oh,” said Mr. Kingsley amiably. “Must let me buy her a ballad as well, then. Can’t have too many.”

Maria cast Cassandra a satisfied look.

“Do you know a gentleman by the name of Mr. Goddard?” asked Cassandra, when they had made their choice.

“Geoffrey Goddard? Seen him somewhere about. Saw him with Deverill earlier.”

“Lord Deverill?”

“Yes. Tall chap. Black hair. Coat by Weston. Dashed fine cut.”

“Yes, I know Lord Deverill. That is, we’ve met.”

Freddy raised his quizzing glass and looked round the crowd. People were starting to make their way towards the track, ready for the race to begin, but one or two lingered round the stalls.

“There’s Deverill now. Got Goddard with him. Coming this way,” said Freddy.

Cassandra followed his glance and saw Justin coming towards her with a young man by his side. The two made a strong contrast. Justin, tall, well dressed in breeches and tailcoat, walking with assurance, and Mr. Goddard, almost as tall but gangly, dressed in a striped coat, embroidered waistcoat and tight breeches, and walking with a mincing gait.

“Miss Paxton,” said Justin, as he drew level with her.

“Lord Deverill. We meet again.”

“So we do,” he said blandly. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Goddard.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Mr. Goddard. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you ever since I knew you were in Brighton. Rupert and I were good friends. I miss him now he’s gone. We all do.”

Justin turned to Freddy.

“Kingsley, I wonder if you could help me. I’d like your advice.”

“My advice?” asked Freddy, startled.

“Yes. I’m having trouble with my cravats. My valet’s a clumsy fellow and he can’t tie them for me, so I have to tie them myself. I can manage a barrel knot, but I’ve a fancy for something more elaborate. I want to try a waterfall, and since your cravats are always exquisitely tied, I thought I’d ask you how you manage it.”

Freddy went pink with plea sure. To be asked for help! And by such a man! Then his smile gave way to a serious expression.

“It isn’t easy,” he said. “Don’t you want to start with something simpler? The waterfall’s a dashed tricky thing to do.”

“No, it’s the waterfall or nothing.”

Freddy nodded. He lifted his hands to his neck and began to describe the intricacies of the style as Lord Deverill paid him flattering attention. Mr. Goddard offered Cassandra his arm, and the transition was smoothly accomplished: Lord Deverill walked in front with Freddy, whilst Cassandra walked behind with Geoffrey Goddard. Maria and Harry brought up the rear.

As they walked, Cassandra had an opportunity to ask Mr. Goddard about Rupert, and discover that he, too, thought Rupert’s letter was nothing that need concern her.

“Been gambling too freely,” he said with decision.

“I’m relieved,” said Cassandra. “Although I hope it wasn’t a bet that led him to his death.”

“No, that was an accident. Terrible thing, but an accident,” he said firmly. “Shouldn’t have been riding at night…hard for ladies to understand…wanted to do it…”

“By which you mean it was a foolish fancy that cost him dear,” she said with a sigh. “Poor Rupert.” Her brow wrinkled. “But if he’d been gambling too freely, wouldn’t I have found a large debt that had to be paid when he died?” It had not occurred to her before, but if her brother had taken his horse out in the dark because he had gambled on setting a new record for riding to London overnight, then he must have lost the bet. Yet she had found no evidence of a debt. “I don’t want to have one come on me unexpectedly.”

“Probably won the bet,” said Mr. Goddard. “Bet a fortune on it raining in the morning. Went home. Realized it was a stupid thing to do. No way of knowing what the weather’s going to do. Couldn’t sleep. Drank a bottle or two. Wrote to you. Said he’d done something terrible. Expected to lose a deal of money. Then heard the rain. Spirits lifted. Screwed the paper up and stuffed it in his breeches pocket. Went outside to look at the rain. Pouring down. Won the bet. Forgot about the letter.”

“Yes, I suppose it must have been something like that,” said Cassandra.

It was now a year since her brother had written it, and as she could not find a trace of anything terrible having happened she supposed there must be nothing to it after all.

“Do you know why he went out riding at night?” she asked.

Mr. Goddard looked uneasy, then said, “Probably had an assignation.”

She hesitated, then said, “Do you know why Lord Deverill was with him?”

“No,” he said guilelessly. “Was Deverill with him? I didn’t know.”

Cassandra realized he would tell her nothing further, and small wonder: no gentleman would want to talk of such things to a lady. But at least now she knew that Rupert had done nothing truly terrible.

They reached the side of the track. Maria and Harry had overtaken them and were already there. Justin and Freddy were not far away. Justin had been joined by a pretty young lady with fair hair and dimples, dressed in a fetching bonnet lined with ruched silk, and a matching green silk gown. Next to the young lady was her complacent mama. It wasn’t only Miss Kerrith who had set her cap at him, Cassandra realized.

As she thought it, she felt a stab of jealousy. She told herself not to be absurd. Justin had no feelings for her, and she had no right to have any feelings for him. But why then had he kissed her? asked a small voice inside.

She turned her attention away from him deliberately and bowed to several people she had met at the assembly. Then the horses began to gather.

“Fancy any of them?” asked Freddy, turning to Cassandra. “Grey’s going well this season. Belongs to Lord Povington. Ridden by his groom. Favour it myself.”

Cassandra interested herself in the horses, and remarked that she liked the looks of a neat black with a white star on its forehead.

“Put a wager on for you,” said Mr. Kingsley. Wagers were being made up and down the race course. “Still think the bay will do it myself, but never contradict a lady.”

He went over to a nearby booth and made a small wager for each of them, then returned to Cassandra’s side. He did it with some difficulty, for the crowd was growing denser by the minute.

Cassandra cast her eye along the course. It was a demanding one, with a hairpin bend, and the race promised to be exciting.

The atmosphere changed as the horses took up their starting positions. Everyone in the crowd turned to look at the track, and a hush fell. Then the horses were off.

The bay quickly outstripped the other horses whilst her own horse was trapped in the middle of the group and Maria’s horse trailed towards the rear. Then Maria’s horse put on a spurt and overtook Cassandra’s, the bay fell behind, and Cassandra’s horse made up lost ground on the bend. Maria’s horse fell behind again, the bay joined the leaders, and Cassandra’s horse made a challenge for third position.

There was a thunder of hoofs as the horses raced towards them and the front runners went past. Cassandra’s horse was amongst them. She turned her head to follow its progress…and then suddenly she was jostled from behind and was thrown forward into the path of the oncoming horses. Before she had time to react, she felt a firm hand on the back of her shawl, and she was pulled out of the way just in time. She looked round to see Justin behind her. Their eyes met, and she read something there that she could not understand. Then he took her hand and pulled her arm through his, anchoring her safely to his large person.

“Your horse is doing well,” he remarked easily.

She had expected him to make some remark on her fall, but his eyes were fixed on the horses. Remembering how Rupert had hated to be distracted when watching a race, she thought he must feel the same, and did not mention her accident. Instead, she answered his comment with a simple, “Yes.”

She turned to watch her horse. It was overtaken at the last minute by a showy animal, and the race was over.

“Thought the bay would do it,” said Freddy regretfully.

Neither he nor any of the other members of Cassandra’s party had noticed her accident.

“Never mind,” said Cassandra. “Better luck next time.”

“Can I persuade you to join me for some refreshment?” asked Justin. “There is a superior tent at the end, and you are all included in the invitation, of course.”

“Thank you,” said Maria. “We’d be delighted. Wouldn’t we, Harry?”

“Oh, yes,” said Harry, receiving a nudge in the ribs. “Delighted.”

Cassandra tried to draw her arm away from Justin as they began to walk towards the tent, but he put his hand on top of it and held it firm. The contact was unnerving, awakening the feelings that had been stirred at the soirée. She didn’t know why it should be. She glanced sideways at him, taking him in. On the surface he was like any other man of his type, but underneath there was something more. What lay beneath his civilized exterior? she wondered. Because for all his polished manners, there was something dangerous and yet compelling there.

“Did you manage to ask Mr. Goddard everything you wanted to know?” he asked.

“Yes, I did, thank you.”

“And?”

“He felt, like you, that it was nothing more than a bad bet.”

“Then I hope it has set your mind at rest.”

“Yes, it has.”

“Good.” He smiled down at her. “Now you can forget about it and enjoy the rest of your stay in Brighton.”

But it was not so easy. There were still things she wanted to know. Plucking up her courage she began.

“You told me that you were with Rupert on the night he died.”

“Yes, I was.”

“When I spoke to Mr. Bradley at the soirée, or rather, when he spoke to me, he said I should ask you about the night my brother died. He said…he implied…”

She did not know how to continue. He walked beside her in silence, not helping her.

She gathered her thoughts, then went on. “He said…” She could not reveal what he had really said.
Ask Deverill what he was doing with your brother on the night he died. Ask him what really happened, then see how much you want him to touch you.
But she must know what he had meant. “Lord Deverill, what really happened?”

“I was with Rupert, as Mr. Bradley said. Rupert took a hedge in the dark and unluckily there was a ditch beyond it. His horse fell and he fell with it. He was mortally wounded.” His voice dropped. “I am sorry.”

Cassandra fell silent. After a time she said, “Mr. Bradley implied there was more.”

“Bradley was drunk,” he said.

“Yes,” she conceded.

“And he was not well disposed towards me.”

“No, that’s true.”

Was there more to the situation? She felt there was, but she also felt that he would say no more. Again she was struck by the layers in him. He was in some ways charming, witty and good company. He was an extremely attractive man, and he made her feel in a way no one had ever made her feel before. But there was something deeper, something darker, hidden away, and the more she learnt about him, the less she felt she knew about him.

They arrived at one of the refreshment tents. Unlike its companions, it was a sedate enclosure, and had none of the drunken behaviour that was going on elsewhere. There were some elegantly dressed people enjoying glasses of rata-fia and lemonade, and before long Cassandra found herself seated at a trestle table with a glass of lemonade in front of her. Whilst the others talked of the race, Cassandra continued her conversation with Justin.

“I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me,” she said. “When I felt myself falling, I feared the worst. It was lucky you’d come up beside me and noticed what was happening, otherwise I would be dead by now. I seem to be accident prone at the moment. I was almost drowned when I went bathing a few days ago, and now I almost fell under a horse! I really need to be more careful. I am not used to mixing with large groups of people, and I have forgotten how to be aware of so many things happening at once. In the country it’s very quiet. But I will get used to it again, by and by.”

He threw off his drink, then turned towards her.

“You were almost drowned, you say?” he asked casually. “You didn’t mention it when I saw you.”

“There didn’t seem to be any reason to do so. I was bathing, and one of the other ladies was in difficulties. I tried to help her, but she was flailing around so wildly that at last I had to get away from her. I couldn’t surface, so I swam under water. When I came up I couldn’t see her, so she must have managed to save herself.”