Teresa Grant (11 page)
Authors: Imperial Scandal
Davenport regarded his wife steadily. “Odd how that can happen.”
Cordelia dropped down on the sofa beside Suzanne and rubbed her temples. “I think Violet knew before I did. Perhaps even before Johnny and Julia did. I remember her standing beside me that night, watching Julia circle the floor in Johnny’s arms. The look in her eyes—It made me—”
She broke off.
“What?” Davenport asked.
Cordelia met his gaze without flinching. “It made me wonder if I’d ever done that to another woman.”
“Ashton was the one who was already promised,” Davenport said. “It was still his responsibility.”
“Miss Chase has two brothers,” Malcolm said, matching present knowledge with his memory of children’s parties at Carfax Court. “I remember playing cricket with them and my friend David Mallinson. And they’re both in the army now.”
“Yes.” Cordelia’s gaze was fixed on the bowl of moss roses on the sofa table. “Anthony is a captain in the 95th. George is an aide-de-camp to Lord Uxbridge.” She drew a breath. “And because you’ll no doubt put two and two together before long, George was the subject of Harry’s and my marriage going so spectacularly wrong.”
Davenport tugged out his handkerchief and brushed at the film of dust on his boots. “I expect it would have happened in the end without good old George. But he certainly helped hurry things along.”
“Were the Chase brothers angered when Captain Ashton turned his attentions away from their sister?” Suzanne asked.
Lady Cordelia rubbed her arms. “They were both out of England at the time.”
Davenport shifted his position in the chair, easing his bad arm. “I saw George and Tony on a handful of occasions in the Peninsula. George and I’ve got over the urge to throttle each other. Odd how one realizes things that once seemed earthshaking are really quite trivial.”
Lady Cordelia looked into her husband’s eyes for a moment. “Tony came home on leave just before Johnny and Julia got married. There was an unpleasant incident.”
“Chase challenged Ashton to a duel?” Malcolm asked.
“No. He planted him a facer in the card room at Boodle’s. Supposedly the fight went out into the passage and down the stairs before some of their fellow officers broke it up.”
Davenport gave a rough laugh. “God. Suspiciously like George and me. I always secretly feared my behavior was a cliché.” He cast a glance at Malcolm.
Lady Cordelia looked between the two men. “You can’t think Tony Chase would have killed Julia because of something that happened years ago. Johnny was the one he was angry at. I know you’re searching for motives, but—”
“No, it doesn’t seem likely,” Malcolm said. “But we should talk to Chase.”
“Tony got married when he was home on leave a couple of years ago,” Lady Cordelia said. “To Jane Sanderson. She’s Johnny’s cousin as it happens.”
“Good God.” Davenport stared at his wife. “Don’t you lot admit anyone else to your charmed circle?”
“Yes, I know,” Lady Cordelia said. “It probably shows a fatal lack of imagination. Or some sort of dreadful incestuous impulses. In any case, Tony and Jane are in Brussels. Violet’s with them.”
“Do you know if your sister and brother-in-law had seen Miss Chase in Brussels?” Malcolm asked.
Cordelia nodded. “Caro said last night that she’d seen them talking at a military review. Julia wrote that she’d encountered Violet and Jane in the park in early May. She said it was a bit awkward, but they were quite civil.”
“And yet Violet Chase wanted to see your sister. In private. To make accusations? To heal the breach?” Malcolm cast a glance at his wife. “Suzette?”
“You want me to talk to Miss Chase.”
“I think she’s more likely to confide in you.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
“But you have a way of creating instant trust. Davenport and I will try to track down her brother.”
Suzanne turned to Cordelia. “Lady Cordelia? By any chance would you be willing to go with me?”
Cordelia’s eyes widened with surprise and, Malcolm thought, something like relief. “Certainly, if you wish it. Though I don’t know that Violet is particularly happy with any of the Brookes.”
Suzanne got to her feet and smoothed her skirt. “Sometimes being able to provoke someone is an advantage.”
12
C
ordelia Davenport glanced at Suzanne as they stood before the house that Anthony and Jane Chase had taken in the Rue du Musée. A light breeze stirred the ribbons on Lady Cordelia’s bonnet and blew strands of hair across her face. “Thank you.”
ordelia Davenport glanced at Suzanne as they stood before the house that Anthony and Jane Chase had taken in the Rue du Musée. A light breeze stirred the ribbons on Lady Cordelia’s bonnet and blew strands of hair across her face. “Thank you.”
Suzanne held her skirts taut against the breeze. “I’m the one who should be thanking you for coming with me.”
“If I hadn’t I’d have gone mad for want of something to do.” Cordelia pushed the hair back from her face with an impatient gesture. “You saw that.”
“Perhaps. But I also genuinely wanted your help.”
Cordelia’s gaze flickered over Suzanne’s face. “You’ve lost someone yourself, haven’t you?”
Blood on cobblestones. Screams. Light fading from young eyes. Suzanne swallowed, forcing down a host of memories she couldn’t afford to dwell on. “Which of us who was in the Peninsula during the war didn’t?”
“Someone very close to you.”
Suzanne started to draw her expertly built defenses round her like the folds of her gauze scarf. But when she met Lady Cordelia’s bruised gaze, she said simply, “Yes.”
Cordelia gave a quick nod.
“Do you think Violet Chase will agree to see us?”
“I’m not sure. Violet’s not—She’s not what one would expect of the girl who stood on the sidelines at a ball while another woman bewitched her fiancé. It will be interesting to see how she responds.”
“If she agrees to see us.”
Lady Cordelia lifted the polished brass knocker. “There’s only one way to find out.”
A liveried footman took their cards and said he would inquire if Madame and Mademoiselle Chase were at home. Suzanne and Lady Cordelia were left alone in an elegant entry hall with café-au-lait-colored walls, white moldings, and graceful mahogany furniture. A single, unexpected splash of color caught Suzanne’s eye beside one of the tapered legs of the ivory damask bench. A bright red top. “Do the Chases have children?” she asked Lady Cordelia.
“One, I think. No, perhaps two now.”
After only a brief interval the footman returned to say Madame and Mademoiselle Chase would be pleased to receive them. Suzanne heard Lady Cordelia release her breath. The footman escorted them up a slender staircase to a sunny salon hung with pale blue silk.
Two ladies got to their feet as the door opened. The shorter of the two, a startlingly pretty young woman with glossy chestnut ringlets and a heart-shaped face, came forward in a stir of airy jaconet edged with flounces of beaded French work.
“Cordelia, dearest.” She took Cordelia’s hands in both her own. “I’m so very sorry about Julia. I could scarcely believe it when we heard the news.”
“Thank you.” Cordelia returned the pressure of the other woman’s hands, a note of surprise in her voice.
Violet Chase drew back and scanned Cordelia’s face. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide and dark beneath perfectly plucked brows. “Oh, dear. You think I’m a shocking hypocrite. But truly, Cordy, that was all over and done with years ago. And in any case, can you imagine I’d have wished such a fate on anyone?”
“I’m sorry, Violet.” Cordelia gave her a quick hug. “I’m not thinking clearly.”
“I can’t see how you possibly could be.” Violet Chase returned Cordelia’s embrace, then drew back and looked at her for a moment.
Cordelia returned Violet’s gaze, then turned to Suzanne. “May I present Mrs. Rannoch. Mrs. and Miss Chase. Two of my oldest friends.”
Jane Chase came forward, shook Suzanne’s hand, and pressed Cordelia’s. “I’m so sorry, Cordy.” Her tone was more restrained than Violet’s and yet somehow held a sterling note her sister-in-law’s had lacked. She looked to be in her midtwenties like Cordelia and Violet, a slender woman possessed of a direct gaze, a generous mouth, and dark hair dressed in somewhat disordered curls. Pretty, but lacking Violet Chase’s exquisite polish.
Suzanne understood Cordelia’s saying Violet was not what one would expect of a lady whose suitor had left her for another woman. Whatever had drawn John Ashton to Julia Brooke, it wasn’t simply the allure of a beautiful woman. He had already been betrothed—in all but name—to a beautiful woman. Suzanne suspected it had been an unusual experience for Violet to find herself ignored.
Violet turned her gaze to Suzanne while Jane Chase greeted Cordelia. Suzanne caught the other woman’s quick appraisal of her cambric high dress and Angoulême spencer, the pearl earrings showing beneath her peach blossom satin hat, the rosettes on the kid slippers peeping out beneath her skirts. “You’re Malcolm Rannoch’s wife.”
“I understand you knew my husband when you were children.”
“He used to visit Carfax Court, which isn’t far from our home in Derbyshire.” Violet’s gaze continued to linger on Suzanne. Suzanne knew that look. In British society she was the Continental adventuress who had snagged one of the beau monde’s most eligible bachelors. “I suppose he’s looking into Julia’s death.”
“Violet.” Jane Chase stretched out a hand to her husband’s sister. “There’s no need—”
“Everyone knows Mr. Rannoch investigated a murder in Vienna. It’s only natural Wellington would turn to him.”
Cordelia smiled at her childhood friend. “Actually, Mrs. Rannoch and I have something in common. Wellington’s turned the matter over to both our husbands.”
Violet stared at her. “To—Harry?”
“He’s still the only husband I’ve had.”
“Do sit down,” Jane Chase said. “I’ve sent for tea.”
The footman returned with a tea tray. The smell of pungent China tea and fresh-cut lemons filled the air.
Suzanne more than half-expected Violet to press the matter of the investigation into Julia’s death, but instead Miss Chase arranged her skirts with care and smiled at Cordelia as her sister-in-law poured out the tea.
“How’s your little girl? Lydia’s her name, isn’t it?”
“Livia. After Caesar Augustus’s wife.”
“You were always better than me at lessons, but I never took you for a classicist.”
Cordelia gave a smile with the sweetness of lemon ice as she tugged at the ribbons on her bonnet. “My husband is.”
“Of course.” Violet smoothed her French work ruff, discomfited by the mention of Cordelia’s estranged husband. Or perhaps, Suzanne thought, deliberately drawing attention to the discomfort. “How’s Livia?”
“Thriving.” Cordelia lifted her bonnet from her head and began to strip off her gloves. “Chattering away. Delving into whatever books she can get her hands on.”
Violet squeezed a wedge of lemon into her tea. “I met Julia in the park walking with her son. Did she tell you?”
Cordelia tugged the second lilac glove from her fingertips. “She mentioned it in one of her letters.”
“Such a sweet boy. Julia’s hair and eyes, but he looks so like his father.” Violet carefully spooned two lemon seeds out of her tea. “How’s Johnny?” She tossed the spoon down. “Oh, what a ridiculous way to put it. I can’t imagine what this must be like for him.”
“He’s devastated.” Cordelia laid the gloves atop her reticule. Suzanne could see her watching Violet closely.
“I sent a note round to him this morning,” Jane Chase said. “It seemed too soon to call.”
“Of course he’d be devastated.” Violet pulled out a handkerchief and mopped up the tea she’d spattered when she tossed the spoon down. “He adored Julia. I still remember the way he followed her round the room with his eyes that night at Lady Cowper’s. I think I knew the moment I saw him bow over her hand.”
“Violet—” Mrs. Chase touched her sister-in-law’s hand.
“It’s all right, Jane.” Violet gave her a tight smile. “It’s not as though we don’t all know the history.” She glanced at Suzanne, as though she had forgot she was there. “Forgive me, Mrs. Rannoch. Events like these have a way of making conventions fly out the window.”
Suzanne stirred milk into her tea. “Entirely understandable, Miss Chase.”
“I was hurt, of course,” Violet said, gaze on her tea. “But I don’t think I was jealous precisely. It was so very clear they belonged together.”
Cordelia clunked her teacup back into its saucer. “Nonsense.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You have more self-respect than that, Vi. You wanted to scratch Julia’s eyes out and rightly so. Julia was lovely, but she wasn’t an enchantress.”
“She—” Violet shook her head. “What does it matter? It was years ago.”
“The past has a way of echoing into the present.” Cordelia unclasped her reticule and drew out Violet’s calling card. “We found this among Julia’s things.”
Violet froze, her cup halfway to her lips. “I called on Julia after I met her in the park. What’s so surprising in that?”
“The note on the back makes it sound as though you wanted to meet her away from her house.”
Violet returned the cup to its saucer, sloshing tea onto the forget-me-not-splashed porcelain. “I knew it. Is this why you brought Mrs. Rannoch here? To ask questions about Julia?”
“I brought Mrs. Rannoch because she’s been kind to me, and I find it difficult to be alone just now.”
Violet twitched her skirt smooth. “I wanted to talk to Julia.”
“Why?”
“I don’t see what this has to do with—”
Cordelia returned her cup to the table with a clatter of china and leaned forward, arms on her knees. “Violet, Julia was afraid of something before she was killed. Anything that happened to her in the last weeks may be relevant.”
Violet drew back in her chair, spine very straight. “I heard she was killed in a French ambush.”
“It may be more complicated.”
“And you think—” Violet stared at Cordelia. “You think I’m still upset over what happened three years ago?”
“You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t, darling.”
“I have a dozen men clamoring for each dance at every ball we attend.”
“You haven’t married any of them.”
Violet glanced away and drummed her nails on the lacquered arm of the sofa. “I was engaged once. Twice, but the second one wasn’t announced.”
“It can take a long time to get over someone. I wouldn’t—”
Violet swung her gaze to Cordelia. “You think I arranged to meet Julia to—what? Ring a peal over her? It’s not her fault that Johnny loved her more than me.”
“Vi—”
“Good God, Cordy, do you think I had something to do with her death?”
“Of course not, but—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Mrs. Chase clunked down her teacup. “Violet, why didn’t you tell me?”
Violet cast an impatient glance at her sister-in-law. “Jane, it’s nothing to do with—”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
“Knew what?” Violet asked in seemingly genuine confusion.
“Oh, dear God, you did.” Jane Chase’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Is that what all this was about?”
“Of course not.” Violet tightened her grip on her teacup. “That is, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It was sweet of you to try to sort things out, love, but there was no need for you to interfere.” Jane Chase squeezed Violet’s hand, then turned a calm hazel gaze on Suzanne and Cordelia. “Mrs. Rannoch, forgive me, but you seem to be in the midst of this, and if your husband’s looking into Julia’s death he’ll learn soon enough. Violet didn’t arrange to meet Julia Ashton because of what happened three years ago. I believe she arranged to meet her because of something much more current. Julia was involved in a liaison with my husband.”
Inquiries at Headquarters, where, in addition to Fitzroy Somerset, Malcolm and Davenport found Colonel Canning and Alexander Gordon, two more of Wellington’s aides-de-camp, elicited the information that the officers of the 95th were in the habit of drinking at La Rose Blanche off the Grand Place. Three lieutenants and a captain, tossing dice in the back room of La Rose Blanche, said they hadn’t seen Anthony Chase since Stuart’s ball the night before, but one of the lieutenants volunteered that Chase’s closest friend in the regiment was Colonel Mortimer. When asked for Mortimer’s whereabouts, the lieutenant said he was probably visiting his mistress, whose house was—where the devil was it again?—somewhere off the park.
Further inquiries led them at last to a neat little blue-painted house with drawn curtains. Malcolm rang the bell three times and then rapped at the door with no response. Davenport snatched up a handful of gravel and threw it at the French window off the first-floor balcony. At last Colonel Mortimer poked his tousled head out the window and demanded to know what the devil they wanted.
“Assuming he isn’t sharing the bed with you and your mistress, where’s the likeliest place for Anthony Chase to be?” Davenport shouted up to him.
“Chase?” Mortimer blinked. “Why the devil—”
“Orders.”
“But—”
“Chéri—”
a sleepy voice called from inside the house.
a sleepy voice called from inside the house.
Other books
The Palace Guard by Charlotte MacLeod
The Secret Passage by Nina Bawden
The Second Son: A Novel by Jonathan Rabb
03_The Unexpected Gift by Irene Hannon
With No One As Witness by George, Elizabeth
Soulceress (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 2) by Hall, Linsey
On Track for Treasure by Wendy McClure
Acceptable Risks by Natalie J. Damschroder
Powder Keg by Ed Gorman
Hot SEALs: SEALed Fate (Kindle Worlds) (Deep Six Security #0) by Becky McGraw
