“
Call on Cousin Edward,
”
Miss Donaldson said.
“
That old stick? I hardly know him. I met him only once five years ago at Cousin Celine
’
s wedding. He seemed astonished that I wasn
’
t married or engaged at the ripe old age of seventeen years.
”
“
He is your cousin
—
top of the trees. It won
’
t do Darren any harm to have Cousin Edward in his camp. Lord Salverton would have great influence with the law,
”
Miss Donaldson said with a meaningful nod of her cap.
“
He would move heaven and earth to keep any scandal out of the family. Very high in the instep, you must know.
”
Samantha drew her bottom lip between her teeth to help her make a decision.
“
Oh, very well. Darren will need all the help he can get, but I don
’
t look forward to Cousin Edward
’
s tirade when he hears what Darren has been up to.
”
“
He'll cut up stiff. It is the price we must pay for his help. But really, you know, I think Cousin Edward will understand. He is always helpful to his relatives.
”
“
I shall pack a bandbox to take with me. I plan to go to Brighton, whether Cousin Edward approves or not. I expect I shall be back tomorrow, Auntie, and then we can leave this horrid city. I wish we had never come to London. I look forward to the peace and quiet of Drumquin. I never thought I would say that!
”
“
I only hope we won
’
t have to share Drumquin with Miss Claridge.
”
“
Or Mrs. Darren Oakleigh. If Wanda has got him to a vicar, we are finished.
”
On this dismal speech she went into the bedroom and packed up a few necessities, and Miss Donaldson spent a moment thinking of Lord Salverton. It would be a wonderful thing indeed if Cousin Edward should develop a tendre for Samantha. It seemed unlikely enough on the face of it, but if rumor was to be believed, there had been a time when Lord Salverton was not so nice as he now appeared.
Samantha placed on her head a high poke bonnet with coquelicot ribbons that Wanda had assured her was the latest jet. It certainly caused heads to turn, in any case. This concoction was toned down by a plain merino cape over her gown. Once dressed, she took her leave of Miss Donaldson and went into the street to search for a hackney cab.
She was soon alighting in front of a veritable mansion on Berkeley Square. The yellow brick house was enormous. It towered proudly over its neighbors. Its severe geometry and obvious prosperity seemed in keeping with its owner. Everything that wasn
’
t brick gleamed in the fading sunlight. The windows sparkled, the brass door knocker sparkled, even the globe of the lamp outside the door sparkled. The heavy, cold lion
’
s-head knocker emitted a sonorous sound when she used it.
The toplofty butler who answered her knock was enough to make a prince tremble. He looked as if he had been weaned on a lemon.
He took one look at the garish ribbons on her bonnet and said,
“
Can I help you, miss?
”
Samantha pokered up at that demeaning
“
miss.
”
“
I want to see Lord Salverton, if you please,
”
she replied.
The butler looked down his long, parsnip nose and said,
“
His lordship is occupied. Would you care to leave a message, or perhaps speak to his secretary?
”
Samantha drew a deep breath, lifted her chin, and said,
“
No, I would not care to leave a message or speak to his secretary. It is excessively important that I speak to my cousin at once. Tell him Miss Oakleigh, from Drumquin, requires a moment of his time.
”
Luten
’
s ire subsided at the word
“
cousin.
”
His lordship had droves of them. No cousin was ever turned from the door without first having a hearing.
“
Please step in, Miss Oakleigh,
”
the butler said in a somewhat less frigid voice than before, and held the door.
“
I shall see if his lordship is free for a moment.
”
Samantha peered around an entrance hallway that belonged in a castle. A lake of black and white marble stretched before her. Its surroundings were reflected in its shining surface, like a real lake. In the near distance, a gracefully curved stairway led up to a balcony. Disapproving marble statues glowered down at her from their niches in the wall. On an ornate gilt table, a bouquet of flowers roughly a yard in diameter bowed in the slight breeze from the doorway. Their aroma blended with that of beeswax and turpentine.
The butler disappeared into the depths of the long hallway and reappeared again a moment later.
“
Right this way, Miss Oakleigh,
”
he said, beckoning her forward.
Samantha followed the butler down the hall. Her shoes made a light clicking sound on the marble floor. She walked carefully to avoid slipping on the highly polished surface.
The butler opened a paneled door and said,
“
Miss Oakleigh, your lordship,
”
and Samantha stepped into the study to face her toplofty cousin.
A well-barbered black head, sleek as a wet seal, lifted from the paper Lord Salverton had been perusing, and Samantha found herself being examined by a pair of steel-gray eyes. The face was as she remembered it from five years before. Handsome, with a well-shaped nose and firm jaw, but the features were marred by an expression not far removed from disdain.
Lord Salverton, always the perfect gentleman, rose and bowed.
“
Nice to see you again, Cousin. I can spare you a moment,
”
he said in polite if not warm accents.
“
Miss Oakleigh, is it not?
”
Samantha forgot to curtsy, which was a grave omission in Salverton
’
s view. She was distracted by the elegance of her cousin
’
s toilette. At five o
’
clock he was already dressed for the evening. How Darren would love a burgundy jacket like that! It clung to Salverton
’
s broad shoulders. At his throat, a discreet ruby gleamed from a fall of lace. The gem picked up the hues of the jacket.
“
Yes, it
’
s Samantha,
”
she said, compounding the felony by thrusting her first name on him.
“
I have come for your help.
”
Salverton
’
s nostrils pinched in disapproval.
“
That is
—
your advice,
”
she added uncertainly.
“
Pray be seated, Cousin,
”
he asked, wafting a shapely hand in the direction of an oak chair in front of the desk. He waited until she was seated before sitting down himself in an armchair whose carved excesses suggested a throne. The desk was as wide as a dinner table, but not so cluttered. It held only a chased silver ink pot, pens, a leather address book, and a blotting paper on which rested a report bearing a government seal. The oak-lined room was handsomely furnished and tidy almost to excess.
While Samantha glanced nervously around, Salverton
’
s experienced eye studied the coquelicot ribbons on her bonnet and mentally disparaged them. But then, it was no new thing for a country cousin to go overboard on her first foray into the shops of London. A pity, for the face was quite tolerable. The eyes especially. That particular shade of blue, deeper than forget-me-nots, lighter than sapphires, always appealed to him. And those long lashes were extraordinary.
Samantha leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial voice,
“
The thing is, Cousin, my brother Darren
—
you remember Darren?
”
“
The heir to Drumquin. I remember him very well. He struck me as a sensible lad, though I haven
’
t seen him for a few years.
”
“
Five years. Cousin Celine
’
s wedding, at Bath.
”
“
Just so. Celine married a solicitor. I think she might have done better, with a dot of seven thousand. And Darren is in London with you?
”
“
Well, yes. That is, we came to London together for a holiday.
”
“
You should have come sooner. The Season is just ending. There were some very interesting partis this year, too.
”
“
Actually we came a month ago.
”
Salverton pokered up at this. He would not have objected to steering his young cousin toward an advantageous match. He took a keen interest in the welfare of all his large and extended family.
“
Then you are not seeking my advice regarding a place to stay, or an introduction to the ton.
”
“
No. We had planned to leave today actually.
”
“
Ah, you have come to say good-bye,
”
he said. This was marginally better than not saying goodbye. At least they were paying some token homage to the head of the extended family.
“
It would have been more useful had you come to me when you arrived. Another time ...
”
“
I doubt there will be another time. It is this time that I need your advice, Cousin,
”
Samantha said, and opened her budget to Lord Salverton. It did not occur to her to attempt any tampering with the truth. She told her tale frankly, in words with no bark on them.
He listened as one in a trance as she spoke of lightskirts and gudgeons and Johnnie Raws and take-ins. It sounded like bad fiction to this upright lord, that a pair of adults could behave so foolishly as the Oakleighs had.
Yet he could not condemn them entirely. Her story called up painful memories of another misspent youth. She spoke of visits to Vauxhall and Astley
’
s Circus, of shopping and tours of Exeter Exchange, all, apparently, in the company of some female called Wanda Claridge. That Salverton was unfamiliar with the name told him the woman was unknown to society.
When she was finished with her story, he said only,
“
Why didn
’
t you make your bows like a
lady
instead of capering about town like a hoyden?
”
“
Good gracious, Edward, I am not on the catch for a parti. I am hardly a deb! I am well past that!
”
Lord Salverton found room in his mind for displeasure at her usurping his Christian name without permission.
“
My friends call me Salverton,
”
he said through thin lips.
“
My relations more usually call me Cousin Edward. Am I to understand you have already chosen a parti, Cousin? Would I know the gentleman?
”
“
I am not engaged, though I have not entirely given up the notion of marrying when Darren brings home a bride. And that is why I came to you. I fear Darren has been caught by Wanda. Aunt Donaldson thinks she has shanghaied him off to Gretna Green, but
I
think they have gone to Brighton.
”
“
To be married?
”
he asked in alarm. Darren Oakleigh had inherited Drumquin upon his papa
’
s death. A handsome estate of seventy-five hundred acres, and a good income. Salverton had mentally assigned him to his cousin, Aurora Semple, who would make her bows in two years
’
time.
“
Well, I am not so sure it is marriage they have in mind.
”
Salverton was somewhat reassured by this.
“
If it is only an
—
er
—
affair,
”
he said,
“
I trust he will be discreet.
”
“
He won
’
t have much to say about it. Wanda leads him around by the halter, and she doesn
’
t know the meaning of the word discreet. The thing is, Cousin, they took some money that didn
’
t belong to them, though I don
’
t believe for one moment that Darren knew that. I wager Wanda told him Sir Geoffrey owed her the thousand pounds. She was Sir Geoffrey
’
s
ch
è
re amie
as it turns out, only, of course, none of us had any notion of it.
”
Salverton listened, dumbfounded.
“
The story she told us,
”
Samantha continued,
“
was that he was her cousin, and trying to force her into marriage. But Miss Burridge, who lives in the flat above Aunt Talbot, who lent us her place on Upper Grosvenor Square, you know, says Sir Geoffrey is already married. Miss Burridge is a regular Jeremiah. She would paint the Archbishop of Canterbury black if she could, but as it turns out, it is no more than the truth about Sir Geoffrey. He says the money was stolen, in any case. He reported it to Bow Street. We had a call from a Mr. Townsend, which is why I came to you for advice.
”
Lord Salverton
’
s face turned from tan to rosy red, then faded to something very like the color of a slug as this tale unfolded. An Oakleigh, kin to the Marquess of Salverton, being sought for theft! Capering about the countryside with a known harlot, and possibly in danger of marrying her, bringing her into the family!
This would have been enough to induce an apoplexy in his lordship at the best of times. This present May was the worst of times for such news. Not only was he on the verge of offering his hand and title (though perhaps not his heart) to Lady Louise St. John, eldest and best-dowered daughter of the Duke of Derwent; of equal importance, after long years of service he was being considered for elevation to the Tory Cabinet. The worst possible time for a scandal!