The Honorable Heir (5 page)

The cellist playing, however, had mastered it.

“Florian.” Catherine sprinted for the music room door as though the corridor were a tennis court and she needed to get to the ball.

She yanked open the door. The music stuttered to a halt. Estelle spun around on the piano stool to glare at Catherine. And three gentlemen stood, two with instruments and bows in hand. The third held nothing but a top hat.

No wonder Lord Tristram had managed to disappear so quickly. He hadn’t left the house at all.

She closed the door and leaned against it to support her suddenly wobbly legs.

“Don’t tell us to stop.” Estelle widened her eyes in entreaty. “This piece was just coming together.”

“Your sister is a wonderful composer, Lady Bisterne.” Florian gave Estelle a look of pure devotion.

“Estelle, a composer?” Catherine shook her head. She raised her hand to rub the taut muscles in her neck and remembered the rings she still clutched. “I’d like to hear it.”

“We were just about to play it for Lord Tristram.” Estelle faced the piano and rested her hands on the keyboard. “I call this ‘Praise.’”

Praise, indeed. For the next ten minutes, the music rised to the heavens, a beautiful reminder that Catherine had spent too little time in praise over the past five years. Or perhaps in her life. Though far from perfect, with the men having just learned the piece, the instruments delivered the tune into her heart.

When the last note vanished from the room, the five of them remained silent, everyone seeming to hold his or her breath.

The chime of the doorbell broke the stillness. The three musicians exchanged smiles of congratulations. On the far side of the room, Lord Tristram bowed to Estelle. “A reminder of what so rarely falls from our lips.”

“If we had a poet who could write lyrics...” Florian began.

“And a voice capable of singing them...” Ambrose added.

“We could make a fortune singing this for—”

“Do not,” Catherine growled, “encourage her. One scandal in the family is more than enough.”

And there it was—a reminder of her elopement with Edwin and the missing jewels. Exactly what Lord Tristram did not need.

To distract them all, Catherine rested her hand on Estelle’s shoulder. “I’ll make a bargain with you, baby sister. If you promise to attend all the social events Mama wishes you to attend, I will see to it you may practice as much as you like.”

“With Mr. Wolfe and Mr. Baston-Ward?” Estelle looked up with shining eyes. “Truly?”

“Yes, truly. But do, please, for propriety’s sake, ask Sapphire or one of the other maids to join you in the future.” Catherine squeezed the delicate bones beneath her hand. “A deal?”

“A deal.” Estelle shot to her feet and enveloped Catherine in an embrace. “I don’t care what anyone says about you. You always were the best sister a girl could have.”

“Wait until the holiday season of parties is over before you make those kinds of declarations.” Her tone was stern, but her heart swelled.

Then Lord Tristram strode up to them, and the rings seemed to catch fire inside her fist. Slowly, painfully, she forced her fingers open and held out her hand, the rings gleaming in the snowy light. “You forgot these.”

“Thank you.” He removed the rings from her palm without touching her.”

Catherine lifted her chin. “To be frank, I’m happy you’re taking away my last reminder of a man—I do apologize, Florian, but the truth here is necessary—for whom I was a good and faithful wife, though he broke nearly every one of our vows. I no longer want a reminder of my greatest mistake.”

“Thank you for saying so, my lady.” Tristram tucked the rings into his pocket and pinned her with a stare so intense she nearly had to look away. “And for giving me a missing piece in this puzzle.”

Chapter 5

When Mrs. Gilding returns he says, “Mr. Blank telephoned he would not be able to come for dinner as he was called to Washington. Mr. Bachelor will be happy to come in his place.”

Emily Price Post

M
otivation. She had given him a motivation for stealing the Bisterne jewels—revenge. Catherine read it in the satisfaction on his face.

A dozen protests of her innocence rose to her lips, but she suppressed them all. When she was an adolescent roaming a little too freely around the newly developed Tuxedo Park, and denied getting up to mischief with her friends, Papa reminded her that one could not prove a negative unless she possessed a good alibi.

In this event, she possessed no alibi. Nor could she prove the negative, that she had not taken the jewels. She had to find a way to prove her innocence.

Or the guilt of someone else.

“Believe what you like, my lord. I will prove you wrong.” She returned his direct, challenging glare.

Sparks crackled between them and she felt a jolt of power as though she were an incandescent light.

He stepped back as though he felt it, too. “I should be going. The Selkirks are expecting me for luncheon.” A huskiness roughened the clarity of his oh-so-English voice.

“Do stay, my lord, all of you.” Estelle rose from the piano stool. “I will tell the cook to expect three more.”

“Thank you, no.” Tristram headed for the door.

“I will send for the carriage.” Catherine hastened to beat Estelle to the bell. “The auto will never be able to drive in this snow.”

“Neither is necessary, Lady Bisterne.” Tristram yanked open the door, stepped over the threshold and was gone, not awaiting the butler to show him out.

“He must have forgotten his manners in Cape Town.” Florian touched his bow to the cello strings. “Do we have time to play a bit more before luncheon?”

Ambrose set aside his violin and picked up Estelle’s banjo. “Will you show us how this works, Miss VanDorn?”

“The banjo? It’s a lady’s instrument, at least it is here. I believe in the South, the men play it. But if you like...” Estelle swept across the room, skirt flaring with the speed of her movement, and took possession of the banjo.

Catherine left them to it. Finding a maid replenishing the fire in the dining room, she asked her to first tell the cook two gentlemen would be joining them for luncheon, and then to sit as chaperone in the music room. Then Catherine climbed the steps to her mother’s boudoir.

She found her parent seated at her desk with a pile of invitations she was addressing and a frown furrowing her brow. “What do you think of this new fashion of ringing people up to invite them to dinner?”

“I think it lacks elegance.” Catherine breathed in the familiar and comforting scent of lavender and roses.

Mama began to address one more envelope. “But this is so tedious. If I used our telephone, I could have Sims do all the calling.”

Catherine smiled at the notion of their aging butler calling each prospective guest as though bestowing a great favor upon them.

Mama consulted her list. “This is a smallish dinner party, rather informal. More an excuse for us ladies to gather discreetly and discuss the annual Christmas tea, while the men talk politics.”

“That’s a lovely idea.” Catherine settled herself on a lavender-and-cream-striped sofa. “May I assist you?”

“I would like nothing better, but surely you have friends to call on or shopping excursions in the city to arrange?”

Catherine looked down at her hands folded in her lap, covering her denuded left hand with her right. “I did more than enough shopping in France and Italy to last another year or two. And as for friends...” Her throat closed. “I rather scuttled those relationships when I eloped with Georgette’s fiancé.”

Mama sighed and returned her pen to its holder. “That was five years ago. It’s past time everyone forgot about your youthful folly. See, you’ve already had a gentleman caller. Did you have a pleasant coze?”

“Lord Tristram is as warm as the conservatory without a fire. I am still to blame for my disastrous marriage.”

“Hmph.” Mama brought her fist down on her desk. “And what about Lord Bisterne’s behavior? He made a promise to her and broke it. Why does everyone blame you as though you forced him to the altar?”

Catherine’s heart warmed at Mama’s never-failing loyalty. “I did flirt with him outrageously. You told me to stop.”

“And if he truly cared for Georgette, no amount of flirtation would have swayed him to run off with you.”

“My greater dowry persuaded him.”

“Estelle is about to follow in your footsteps if we’re not careful.”

“I thought she’d have learned her lesson with me for an example, but you are so right, Mama, in more ways than one.”

“Those young men in the music room are fortune hunters, as well?”

“Without the dubious honor of bearing a title.”

“Neither of these young men have either money or title prospects?”

“Neither. But if I may offer you some advice from my own experience, don’t deny her access to them. I believe now that if I had been allowed to spend more time in Bisterne’s company, I would have learned his pious talk and fine manners covered an empty soul.”

Mama sifted through the stack of engraved invitations. “I will discuss your suggestion with your father tonight. We don’t like this notion Estelle has of joining a band, of all things. As if a girl of good birth would ever do such a thing. I’m happy enough to have her perform here, but in public? Out of the question.”

“And yet her talent is special.”

“It is.” Mama’s face glowed, smooth and lovely in the lamplight. “We pray her faith will anchor her in doing the right thing with her music.”

“Did you hope my faith would persuade me to make the right choices?”

“I’m afraid we did, but worldliness got ahold of you.” Mama leaned forward and covered Catherine’s clasped hands with one of hers.

Catherine avoided meeting Mama’s eyes. “I need to find forgiveness here, but Mrs. Selkirk says I will not be received and Georgette will not speak with me.”

“Then Georgette will be in the wrong, not you. As long as you conduct yourself with impeccable behavior and we can keep Estelle from running off, your being home can finally set that old scandal of yours behind us, where it belongs.”

Catherine flinched away from Mama’s kindly meant words. If she could not prove her innocence to Lord Tristram, a new scandal could damage her family right to its core. Estelle would be the sister of a jewel thief and would never find a decent man to marry her, and other men might refuse to do business with Papa and Paul, thus ruining the family financially. A family that had given her so much in love, forgiveness and money all her life deserved better than that.

Whatever course of action was necessary, she would take it to protect her family.

* * *

Tristram needed the walk through the biting cold to calm him before he felt ready for a civilized meal with the Selkirks. Never in his life had a female set his blood to boiling as did Lady Catherine Bisterne. She may as well have been holding a rapier in salute before an old-fashioned duel with that last glance of hers. American-born or not, she could have given any duchess a run for her money in the hauteur division.

Suddenly, he laughed, his voice ringing out along the empty road lined with trees that hid the opulent houses beyond. She might have been nervous around him last night, but today she had herself well in hand, and the result was...

Alarmingly charming.

Tristram shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and felt the rings she had given him. As he paced up the hill to the Selkirk cottage, he held the wedding band between forefinger and thumb. It was a heavy band for fingers as slender as Catherine’s. The diamonds weren’t set into channels, but rose over the edges of the band in a way that must have abraded her other fingers. Not a comfortable ring to wear for five years, and yet she hadn’t removed it, though she could have exchanged it for a plain gold band without receiving any censure. She had taken these valuable rings from the estate by her own admission—she was the only person at Bisterne with access to the safe at the time of her husband’s death, and he had found pieces of the missing jewelry in her wake across Europe. In short, he held three powerful pieces of evidence.

But figuring out a motive was even more precious.

Yet if she
were
guilty, would she not hand over the rest of the jewels before the truth emerged and created a scandal? The strength of her protestations of innocence pointed to her telling the truth. According to old Lady Selkirk, Catherine’s elopement five years earlier had created such a scandal, a handful of families, including the Selkirks, avoided the VanDorns whenever possible. Now, with Estelle to launch into society, another scandal could damage her chances of making a good match. Worse, the revelation that Catherine was not the kind and trustworthy lady her family thought she was would damage—even ruin—the affection he had witnessed between the sisters.

His conscience pricked him, and he paused to gaze back down the hill toward the VanDorns’ beautiful Lake House. Just the chimneys showed above the trees. He smelled the smoke from the fires, sharp and tangy, in the brisk air. Hearth and home, a family that seemed to care about one another, unlike his...and he could tear it apart.

“Yet what choice do I have?”

If only the fortunes of the Baston-Wards mattered in this pursuit, Tristram wouldn’t care so much—they were already nearly penniless due to their own mismanagement and poor behavior. But many others not at fault would suffer if the family could not restore their fortune. They employed dozens of people on the estate and most of them would lose their jobs. If they weren’t working, tradesmen in the village would make less money supplying them with their needs. They in turn would be able to buy less.... And so began the destruction of a parish. Similar events had taken place all over England and the continent, as those with land lived beyond their means, made bad investments and gambled away once great fortunes. Money from American heiresses had saved many an estate as well as the jobs of the local people. Catherine’s money had made improvements at Bisterne, but it had departed with her, and now the jewels were all the family possessed.

“She needs to return the money she received for the jewels she sold, and return the rest.” His frustration burst forth in words spoken aloud to the last snowflakes still drifting to the ground, then he looked up and addressed the Lord. “What else can I do but make her admit the truth?”

Silence met him, broken only by a birdcall he didn’t recognize. There’d been silence when he cried out to the Lord for guidance ever since he listened to his heart and found himself on the brink of facing a court-martial for disobeying orders—orders that would have seen dozens of innocent people killed. He would face that court-martial again if he had to, and make the same decision. This situation, however, presented him with choices that would improve his life while helping others, and that self-interest blurred the lines between right and wrong.

Growing cold standing still, Tristram recommenced his climb to the Selkirk house. Georgette and Pierce expected him to be at luncheon. They wanted to discuss some activity or other they were planning, a day trip into New York. Perhaps he could spend an extra day and visit the finer jewelers to see what he could turn up. Meanwhile, Georgette and Pierce were comfortable companions, even if Pierce and his grandmother made clear that they would like a match between Tristram and Georgette.

The idea had crossed Tristram’s mind once or twice since he’d met the pretty and gentle-spirited Georgette. An American heiress would solve a number of problems for Tristram.

If only looking into her sky-blue eyes made him feel as though he were standing at the foot of an oak during a thunderstorm.

When he arrived, the butler led him into the dining room, where luncheon was already underway.

“I do apologize for my tardiness.” He seated himself at the last place setting. “I tarried along the road.”

“Couldn’t they be bothered to send a carriage with you?” The older Mrs. Selkirk set her water glass on the table with a thud. “They have no manners for being among the first families of New York. Georgette is much more refined than the VanDorn daughters, and she is only the second generation of heiresses.”

Blushing, Georgette passed a basket of rolls to Tristram. “We’ll have hot soup for you momentarily. You look half-frozen.”

“They did offer me transport, but I like the cold and chose to walk.” Tristram smiled at her, and she blushed more deeply.

“Don’t know why you had to go down to Lake House as it is,” Mrs. Selkirk continued.

“And nor do you need to.” Georgette’s mother, a faded version of her daughter, spoke from the far end of the table. “If he had business with Lady Bisterne, then he had business with her and it’s none of our business.”

“Are you still free this afternoon?” Pierce asked.

“Catherine always was a wild one.” The eldest lady scooped butter onto a bite of roll. “And the younger one is following in her footsteps. How they managed to produce such a quiet and steady son is beyond my comprehension. Paul works hard in the city every day.” She fixed her gaze on Pierce. “Unlike some young men I know.”

Pierce laughed as a footman with a bowl of steaming soup entered and set the bowl before Tristram. Aromas of leeks and creamy chicken stock reminded him he hadn’t eaten for hours and had taken two walks in the cold. If he weren’t careful, he might gobble down the food like a barbarian.

“Paul VanDorn,” Pierce said once the footman departed with empty plates, “is dull.”

“I think he’s very nice.” Georgette spoke to her empty plate.

“And handsome,” her mother added.

“It’s a handsome family.” Pierce grinned.

Mrs. Selkirk banged her cane on the floor like a gavel. “Handsome is as handsome does, and they haven’t done handsomely yet.”

“Perhaps,” Georgette’s mother said, “Lady Bisterne is a friend of Lord Tristram’s and we should watch what we say around him.”