The Repentant Rake (32 page)

    'In
what way?'

    Susan
did not reply. She looked deep into his eyes. He met her gaze, his affection
for her shining through, but it sparked off no response. She was looking at him
with a curiosity that was tempered with faint disappointment. Christopher felt
uncomfortable.

    'Is
something wrong, Miss Cheever?' he asked.

    She
appraised him carefully. 'May I ask you a question, please?'

    'As
many as you wish.'

    'Do
you know a Henry Redmayne?'

    'I
should do. He's my brother.'

    'And
was he one of Gabriel's friends?'

    'For
a time.'

    'Why did
you not mention it before, Mr Redmayne?'

    Christopher
shrugged. 'It did not come up in conversation.'

    'Well,
it should have,' she said with a note of reproof. 'I had a right to know. It
would have saved me some embarrassment when Lucy mentioned his name.'

    'Lucy?'

    'Yes.'

    'But
she has never met Henry.'

    'It
seems that your brother's name appears in Gabriel's diary?'

    'So I
hear.'

    'Yet
you did not have the courtesy to pass on the information to me?'

    'Miss
Cheever-'

    'Let
me finish,' she went on, anger beginning to show. 'How can you expect me to
confide in you when you hold back something as important as this from me? You
put me in a very awkward position. Imagine how foolish I felt when Lucy
recalled the name of Henry Redmayne and wondered if the two of you were
related. Not only that,' she emphasised. 'Your brother's name appears in the
very diary that led to Gabriel's murder so he is involved here. You've been
deceiving me, Mr Redmayne.'

    'Not
intentionally.'

    'I feel
hurt.'

    Christopher
was contrite. 'I would never willingly hurt you.'

    'Then
why have you been hiding your brother?'

    'For
two very good reasons,' he explained. 'The first concerns Sir Julius.'

    'Father?'

    'He has
many virtues but tolerance is not one of them. And what my brother requires
most of all from others, I fear, is a tolerant attitude. Henry leads the kind
of existence that Gabriel managed to escape.' He sat forward. 'Can you
understand what I am saying, Miss Cheever?'

    'I
think so. You are telling me how keen you were to design the new house.'

    'Would
Sir Julius be equally keen to retain me if he knew that I had a brother like
Henry? He would assume that I, too, was the kind of rakehell that he so
despises.'

    'Father
would not make that mistake. He's a good judge of character.'

    'I
wanted to be judged for my work and not in terms of my brother.'

    'That
is still not reason enough to lie to me.'

    'I
did not lie,' he stressed. 'I simply held back a portion of the truth.'

    'You
said that there were two reasons.'

    'Yes,'
said Christopher sadly. 'The second concerns you.'

    'Me?'

    'In
my own blundering way, I sought to protect you.'

    'From
what?'

    'The full
horror. Gabriel's murder has been a shattering blow for you, Miss Cheever. I
did not want to distress you any further by telling you about its ugly
consequences. If you feel that I hid things from you unfairly,' he said,
leaning even closer to her, 'then I apologise unreservedly. I promise to tell
you all that you wish to hear.'

    'Why
should I be distressed by it?'

    'The
details are rather sordid.'

    'Nevertheless,
I will hear it,' she said. 'Do not think to spare me.'

    Christopher
took a deep breath. 'If you insist.'

    He
gave her a clear and comprehensive account of events from the very start,
hiding nothing from her and describing in detail the failure of his plan to
catch the blackmailer in Covent Garden. Susan Cheever listened to it all
without a tremor. The name that caught her attention was that of a woman.

    'Miss
Celia Hemmings?'

    'Yes,'
he said. 'Did Gabriel ever mention her in his letters?'

    'No,
Mr Redmayne.'

    'He
obviously made a deep impression on her. She was at the funeral.'

    'Was
she?' asked Susan with mingled surprise and disapproval.

    'She
left discreetly soon afterwards.'

    'I'm
glad to hear it.'

    'Do
not be too harsh on her. She was a good friend to Gabriel.'

    'That
may be so, Mr Redmayne, but she had no place at a family funeral. Think what
pain it would have caused Lucy if she had known of the woman's presence and of
her relationship to Gabriel. It was wrong of Miss Hemmings to come.' Susan
cocked her head slightly and stared at him. 'Are you ashamed of your brother?'

    'Ashamed?
No, Miss Cheever.'

    'Why
not?'

    'With
all his faults, I love Henry.'

    'I
loved Gabriel - with all
his
faults.'

    'It's
not a fair comparison.'

    'Why
not?'

    'Your
brother repented,' he argued. 'He turned his back on his days as a rake and
tried to lead an honest, sober, blameless life as a married man. That takes
courage. Henry's case is very different,' he conceded. 'In spite of all that
has happened, he has no thought of repentance and he would no more contemplate
marriage than emigration to some uninhabited wilderness in America.'

    'Gabriel
and your brother were still two of a kind.'

    'Up
to a point.'

    'And
so are we, Mr Redmayne.'

    'We?'

    'Yes,'
she said resignedly. 'Each of us found ourselves with wayward brothers. There's
no escaping that fact. Neither of them would aspire to canonisation.'

    Christopher
laughed. 'Henry would feel insulted if it were offered to him.'

    'Our
brothers drew us into this.'

    'Granted.'

    'But
for them, we would not be sitting here now. In view of that, it is surprising
that you chose not to confide in me.'

    'Nothing
will be hidden from you in future, I swear it.'

    'I'll
keep you to that,' she warned. 'Gabriel Cheever and Henry Redmayne are both
weak men who went astray. We supported them. That gives us a real bond.'

    Christopher
felt the full strength of that bond and gave a quiet smile.

    Sir
Marcus Kemp was in his element. Having paid the blackmail demand, he felt that
his life could begin again in earnest. He repaired to his favourite gaming
house that evening and had a run of good fortune at the card table. He decided
that it was an omen. His troubles were completely over. Henry Redmayne watched
him from a distance, envying the confidence that his friend exuded and wishing
that he had the same air of freedom. Gone was the hunted expression and the
feverish manner. Kemp was determined to make up for lost time. Arthur Lunn was
also happy. Henry had played a few games of ombre but he had still not mastered
the intricacies of the new fad and lost each time. Lunn, by contrast, was
slowly amassing a sizeable amount of money from his opponents at the table. Henry
wondered if he would be able to drag his friend away.

    When
Kemp's luck finally changed, he had the sense to quit the game. Seeing Henry in
the far corner, he strode across to him with a benign smile on his face.

    'Welcome
back, Henry!' he said expansively

    'I
might say the same to-,you, Marcus.'

    'All's
well that ends well!'

    'Unfortunately,
it has not ended in my case.'

    'Then
do as I did,' urged Kemp. 'Grit your teeth and pay up. You'll not regret it.
Yes,' he added genially, 'and employ that brother of yours to hand the money
over. What he is like as an architect I do not know, but Christopher is a
sterling fellow.'

    'It's
a quality that runs in the family.'

    'He
pulled me out of the pit of despair, Henry.'

    'I
wish that he could do the same for me.'

    'Did
your brother not tell you how he delivered the money to Covent Garden?'

    'Yes,
Marcus,' said Henry. 'When he left you this afternoon, Christopher called on me
in Bedford Street but he was not as sanguine as you are about the future. He
feels that the extortion is not yet over.'

    'It
is in my case.'

    'That's
little comfort to me - or to Peter Wickens.'

    'Wickens?
How does he come into this?'

    'He
received a blackmail demand this very day.'

    'Never!'

    'I
saw it with my own eyes, Marcus. Penned by the same hand that wrote one of my
letters and both of yours. Peter was utterly desolate,' he said. 'All of his
indiscretions were neatly listed. The threat of publication all but deranged
him.'

    'How much
was the demand?'

    'Five
hundred guineas.'

    'Advise
him to pay at once or it will be doubled.' He looked around. 'I'll tell him
myself. Is Wickens here this evening?'

    'No,
Marcus. He is skulking at home just as we did.'

    'I've
no need to do that any more.'

    Henry
writhed in discomfort. 'Do not rub salt into my wounds.'

    'Be
not so full of apprehension,' urged the other. 'Bow to the inevitable and pay
for your pleasures. Your suffering will then cease. If you need to borrow the
money, I'll gladly offer you a loan. Ah!' he said as a figure approached them.
'Chance contrives better than we ourselves. Here is the very man you will need
as your intermediary.'

    Henry
was astonished to see his brother there. Christopher was not interested in
trying his luck at the card table and he had resisted all his brother's efforts
to lure him to various brothels. Henry sensed that Christopher must have a
particular reason for venturing into the gaming house. As soon as the social
niceties were over, he wanted to know what it was.

    'What
brings you here, Christopher?'

    'I
was looking for you, Henry.'

    'He
knew where to find you,' remarked Kemp with a chuckle. 'Find a card game and
you will soon find Henry Redmayne. Excuse me,' he said about to move off.

    'Before
you go, Sir Marcus,' said Christopher, blocking his path, 'I wanted to remind
you of the bargain we struck.'

    'That's
null and void.'

    'Not
if you receive another blackmail demand.'

    'But
I will not. I'm in the clear.'

    'Wait
a while before you celebrate,' advised Christopher. 'All I ask is that you do
not destroy the letters or the printed extract. I may need to look at them.'

    'Only
if I am harried again and that will not happen.'

    'Promise
me that you will not burn the evidence.'

    'I'll
do what I please with it, Mr Redmayne,' said Kemp airily.

    He
went off to speak to some other friends. Henry looked after him.

    'Sir
Marcus assumes that the problem has been solved,' he commented.

    'That's
a foolish assumption.' Christopher glanced around. 'Is there somewhere we can
talk in private, Henry? I need a word with you.'

    Henry
nodded and led him to an empty table. Drinks were served, and Henry lit a pipe.
Christopher sat back to avoid the smoke, consoling himself with the fact that
his brother was unusually sober. At that time on a normal evening, Henry would
be incapable of articulate conversation.