Lady Sabrina’s Secret (9 page)

Slowly she nodded. ‘Yes.

I confess I am disappointed, madam, for your reticence until now would suggest a deviousness which I find disagreeable in the extreme. Given that I have confided in you my concern over my sister, I think it very
reprehensible
of you to bring your ill will toward Sir James into this house. I would be grateful if in future you stayed well away from my family, madam, and I would be further grateful if you left immediately.'

‘As you wish, sir, but may I just point out that you are justifiably protective of Lady Sabrina, as I well understand, so is it not similarly understandable that I should feel the same way about my brother? Richard did not do the things of which he stands accused, and if I can prove that fact, then I will.' She turned to face Sir James. ‘You and Lady Ann have conspired against Richard, sirrah, and I will expose you both for the vile liars that you are.' With her head held high she walked from the conservatory.

But there were tears in her eyes as she emerged into the daylight outside. What a miserable failure it had all been, for she had not only failed to achieve anything in Richard's favor, but had also fallen foul of both the duke and his sister. Fighting the tears back, she walked quickly along the pavement. She wouldn't give up, she wouldn't! This wasn't the end of it, for it was still possible to make Sabrina understand the truth. Maybe she wouldn't willingly agree to speak to the woman she now knew to be Richard's sister, but perhaps she could be coerced into it. The pocket watch with its illuminating inscription might be the very lever, and its existence was something of which the lady would have to be reminded.

No matter what the opposition and difficulty she would encounter, she meant to attend tonight's ball at the Upper
Rooms, and somehow or other she would steal an
opportunity
to point out to Sabrina that her brother might find the watch very interesting indeed. It wasn't fair or kind, but then neither was what was being done to Richard!

It wasn't until she reached the door of the Masterson house that she realized her locket remained on the table in the conservatory, where it had fallen from Sabrina's shocked fingers.

When Mrs McNeil was told how badly everything had gone, she was emphatically opposed to any notion of either of them attending the ball that evening. She felt that
nothing
could now be gained by trying to approach Sabrina, whom she believed would anyway stay at home after being so upset, and she advised Deborah to stay away herself. In her opinion they would have to think of some other way of exposing the real culprits in the business of the stolen
necklace
.

At first Deborah tried to bring the older woman around, but it soon became clear that nothing would persuade Mrs McNeil to change her mind. Accepting such implacability was one thing however, but abiding by such advice quite another, and when an invitation arrived that afternoon requesting Mrs McNeil's presence at a last-minute dinner party, Deborah decided to attend the ball.

None the wiser, Mrs McNeil set off at eight o'clock in the town carriage, and Deborah repaired immediately to her room to prepare for the ball. With the town carriage already in use, it would be necessary to take a sedan chair to the Upper Rooms, and so a footman was despatched to order
one for half past ten, by which time she would know whether or not Sabrina had abided by her declared
intention
to attend the ball no matter what. Amy watched from the window until the duke's carriage was brought to the front of his house, and then she called Deborah.

‘The duke is about to go out, madam,' she said.

Deborah hurried to the window and peeped out as well. After a moment the duke emerged looking very
distinguished
and impressive in the evening black he would require for an occasion like a ball. He paused on the doorstep, and then turned, extending his hand, and a moment later Sabrina emerged as well, enveloped in a pale-green cloak, which parted as she walked to reveal a chestnut silk gown beneath. The duke assisted his sister into the carriage, and then climbed in after her. Within seconds the carriage drew away, coming up to a smart trot as it passed Deborah's window. She and Amy drew discreetly back out of sight, not wishing to be glimpsed against the light in the room. As the sound of the carriage dwindled away into the night, Deborah went to sit before the dressing table for Amy to begin brushing her hair.

When the chairmen knocked at the door at half past ten, Deborah was ready to leave. She wore a primrose satin gown with a very low square neckline, petal sleeves, and an intricately vandyked hem, and pearls trembled from her ears. Her coal black hair was plaited and coiled at the back of her head with soft curls framing her face, and the
coiffure
was adorned with a padded fillet made of the same primrose satin as the gown. The fillet was twisted with strings of pearls and was finished with a silver tassel that fell to her right shoulder. She carried a fan and a reticule, and over everything she wore the purple velvet cloak she'd
worn to the theater two evenings before. Two evenings? Was that all it had been? It seemed an age away now, and it seemed a positive lifetime since that windswept day she had ridden up on to the cliffs near St Mary Magna, but it had been only six days ago. As the chair conveyed her toward her destination, she steeled herself to achieve her aim tonight. Nothing was going to deflect her on this
occasion
; somehow she was going to persuade Lady Sabrina Sinclair that she should hear the truth.

The Upper Rooms were so called because they were
situated
in the upper part of the town, close to the Circus, and they included not only the famous ballroom, but also a tea room, a card room, and the room known as the octagon, which lay in the heart of the building, from which access was gained into the other chambers.

There was an inevitable crush as the chairmen approached the building, for the weekly subscription balls were practically
de rigueur
for society, although there were those who shunned them, as did many in Mrs McNeil's circle of friends, hence the dinner party arranged on the same night. The entrance to the rooms was brilliantly
illuminated
, and since a ball was not considered a success unless it was adorned with as many flowers as possible, decorative baskets of spring blooms had been arranged by the doorway.

Deborah alighted from the chair and then hurried inside from the chill of the night. She paused only long enough for a footman to take her cloak, and then she went into the octagon to begin her search. There were dazzling
chandeliers
, floral arrangements heavy with fragrance, and
everywhere
a crush of people. The music from the ballroom was almost drowned in the drone of voices, and as Deborah
gazed around at all the faces, she was daunted at the prospect of even being able to find Sabrina, let alone talk to her.

She commenced with the tea room, which was large and lofty, with a fine stone screen at one end, supporting an elegant gallery. Every table was filled and there were many people simply perambulating, for it was the thing to be seen strolling around, and so Deborah joined them, her eyes constantly scanning the room in case Sabrina should be present.

It took some time to circulate the entire room, and when she reached the door again she was certain that Sabrina must be elsewhere. The obvious place was the ballroom itself, but she felt she must search the card room first, just in case the duke was there, and his sister was watching him play. She went through the octagon, and then into the card room, which lay at the rear of the building. Here the tables were covered with green baize, and patent lamps on long chains were suspended low over them, casting soft pools of light. It was a peculiarly quiet place, for the playing of cards required concentration, and the ladies and gentlemen indulging in their passion did not do so lightly.

Again Deborah drew blank, for there was no sign of Sabrina or the duke, or indeed of Sir James, which left only the ballroom. A polonaise was playing as she paused for a moment by the entrance, gazing at the elegant scene within. The blue-and-gold chamber was over a hundred feet long and nearly fifty feet wide, and the floor was surrounded by tiers of crimson sofas from where the
dancing
could be observed in comfort. The windows were placed high in the walls for privacy, and the orchestra played from an apse in the wall opposite them. Five huge
chandeliers lit the proceedings, and the master of
ceremonies
was preparing to announce the next measure as the polonaise drew toward its close.

From the doorway it was very difficult to see everything properly, and Deborah cast around for a place on a sofa in one of the upper tiers. As luck would have it, one was vacated at that moment by a lady and gentleman intending to participate in the next dance, a minuet.

It was very hot in the ballroom, and as she took her seat she snapped open her fan. The floor was crowded as the long sets began to form for the minuet. Jewels winked and flashed, and the ladies' rich gowns were the perfect foil for the more somber tones of the gentlemen's clothes. The master of ceremonies fussed around, finding partners for those who wished to dance but had no one with whom to do so, and then at last the orchestra began to play, and the minuet commenced.

Deborah gazed over the room, searching it foot by foot, tier by tier, and then, quite suddenly, she saw Sir James. His Apollo curls looked as contrived as ever as he stood by one of the lowermost sofas directly opposite where Deborah was seated, and a quizzing glass swung idly in his hand. He looked quite elegant, although in her opinion his neckcloth was just a little too voluminous for good taste. His coat was made of a very fine black figured velvet, and his breeches and stockings revealed him to have surprisingly well-shaped calves for one who was otherwise so thin.

He moved aside slightly, and then she saw Sabrina. She was seated on the sofa, her eyes lowered as she toyed with her closed fan. Her chestnut silk gown was sprinkled with glittering golden embroidery, and there was a plain golden
circlet around her forehead, with a tall white plume
springing
from the back. A gold lace shawl was draped over her arms and there were golden Roman sandals on her feet. Her face was pale and strained, and it was evidently with a great effort that she was paying attention to whatever it was her husband-to-be was saying. She seemed distracted, Deborah thought, as well she might be under the
circumstances
.

As she watched an elderly lady in silver lace and diamonds came to speak to Sir James. He leaned close to hear her, and then nodded, before briefly drawing Sabrina's hand to his lips and then accompanying the other lady around the edge of the ballroom to a group at another sofa, where he was presented to a military gentleman of some age and importance. Deborah's eyes flew back to the sofa, where Sabrina was now all alone. There was no sign at all of the duke, and no sign of anyone going to join her. It was a chance not to be missed.

Deborah rose swiftly from her place and made her way down to the floor of the ballroom. There was such a crush around the edge of the room that she could only make very slow progress to where Sabrina was seated, and the minuet was coming to an end as at last she had the sofa in sight. Sabrina remained there on her own, with still no sign of the duke or of Sir James returning to join her.

The floor was clearing, and the master of ceremonies announced a
ländler
, but Deborah hardly heard him as she pushed her way through another small crush of people toward the sofa. Then, just as she was about to approach Sabrina, who hadn't yet noticed her, someone caught her arm and made her turn sharply.

‘I would prefer it if you did not carry out your intention,
Mrs Marchant,' said the duke, his blue eyes angry as they looked into hers.

‘Please unhand me, sir,' she requested, unutterably disappointed to have been caught so close to her goal.

‘I seem to recall that you promised me a measure tonight,' he said, still holding her arm.

She stared at him. ‘I hardly think …'

‘A promise is a promise, Mrs Marchant, and I am sure that a
ländler
would be most agreeable.'

She found herself being virtually propelled on to the floor, where he was able to take her by both arms, because that was what the dance required. The
ländler
was perhaps the most intimate of all the fashionable dances, with couples facing each other, arms entwined, rather than forming sets or columns. It was also a leisurely dance, affording the dancers much intimacy and opportunity to talk as they moved, and Deborah felt completely at his mercy as the orchestra struck up the first note, and they began to dance. She also felt at the mercy of her senses, which came to treacherous life at his touch.

He was quiet for a moment, and then caught her
unwilling
eyes. ‘Your purpose a moment ago was disagreeably clear to me, Mrs Marchant. You were about to disobey my orders and speak to my sister again, weren't you?'

‘Disobey your
orders
?' she repeated incredulously. ‘Sir, this is the nineteenth century, not the thirteenth, and the days are long since gone when the wishes of a duke were law. I am not obliged to do as you say, simply because you say it, and you have no right at all to—'

‘Madam, I have every right. You upset Sabrina earlier today, and since she is so delicate at the moment, it falls upon me to do all I can to protect her. She doesn't want to
talk to you, she made that quite plain, and so I think it most insensitive and selfish of you to persist in this. I do not find fault with your loyalty to your brother, indeed I find it quite laudable, but I will not have your private problems impinging upon my sister's well-being. Is that clear?'

‘If your sister's well-being is of paramount importance in all this, sir, I suggest that you do something to put an end to her match with Sir James Uppingham. He is the guilty one, he and Lady Ann Appleby, and I will not stand idly by and let my brother's good name be besmirched because of their scheming.'

‘And do you have proof of their guilt?' he demanded coldly.

She looked away. ‘Not exactly.'

‘Then I suggest you keep your own counsel until you do. Mrs Marchant, I do not like being continually at odds with you, but you are leaving me precious little choice. Sir James is to marry my sister, and he has categorically denied any involvement in this whole sorry business, save the fact that he saw the stolen necklace in your brother's carriage. What possible reason could he have for inventing such a tale? Let us face the fact that you have absolutely nothing of any significance to say, and that your purpose is simply to cause as much trouble as you possibly can in order to draw attention away from your brother. Continue, by all means, if that is your pleasure, but do not embroil those close to me. Do I make myself clear?'

‘Oh, you make yourself eminently clear, sir,' she replied, dull color marking her cheeks.

‘I trust that you will take heed from now on.'

Her gray eyes moved intently to his face. ‘Will you promise me one thing, my lord?'

‘I fail to see what promise I should extend to you, Mrs Marchant.'

‘If I were to find proof of my claims, would you be prepared to listen to me then?'

‘I trust you do not mean to fabricate evidence to support your tale?'

‘Others have already fabricated evidence, sir, but I will never stoop to that,' she replied coolly.

‘I have to concede that your tenacity is quite impressive, madam.'

‘I am driven by a determination to see justice done, sir, and it will not be done until Richard's honor is restored, and until he and …' She broke off, for she had been about to mention Sabrina.

‘Do go on, Mrs Marchant, for I am sure you were about to say something interesting.'

‘I have nothing more to tell for the present, sir, but you have still to say whether or not you will be prepared to consider actual proof of what I say concerning Sir James and Lady Ann.'