The Diabolical Baron (7 page)

“Aye, I was not at a standstill then.”

“I had hoped the substantial portion Caroline will
inherit from her mother will make her more marriage
able—”

“Don’t be counting on that,” Sir Alfred interrupted.

“You haven’t spent the money? That would be em
bezzlement!” his wife gasped.  “It was left in trust for her.”

“Don’t be so anxious to send me to jail,” he snapped.
“I invested it in a surefire canal scheme, but
the director ran off with
the funds. It was a legitimate investment for her trust
money,” he added defensively in the face of his wife’s
glare. While she had her share of faults, Lady Hanscombe was scrupulously honest, and her hus
band’s actions appalled her.

After collecting herself, Louisa said coldly, “Then it
is just as well Caroline never knew the size of her in
heritance. The other news I have for you could not be better timed. I had begun to despair of finding some
one for her. She has no countenance or vivacity, and seems quite uninterested in attaching anyone. But it is
the most amazing thing—Lord Radford has taken a
marked interest in her. He sought her out at Almack’s
last night, danced only with her, and called for her this
morning for a drive. Hard as it may be to understand, he seems quite smitten with her.”

“Lord Radford? The man has had some of the most
dashing mistresses in London. What interest could he
have in a milk-and-water miss like Caroline?”

“Mysterious are the ways of love,” Lady
Hanscombe said sententiously. “He probably wants a well-brought-up young lady who will bear him a son
and not curb his pleasures. Caroline should suit him
very well. And she won’t present any problems if he
comes up to scratch. She’s always been a most obedient girl.”

“Well, see she stays that way!” her loving husband
barked as he ended the interview by leaving the room
for his club. 

Chapter 4

R
ichard Davenport’s leg was aching badly by the
time he reached the legal offices of Chelmsford and
Marlin, but since that was common nowadays, he ig
nored it. He was taking long daily walks to rebuild the
damaged leg as much as possible; on difficult days, like
this one, he carried a cane and distracted himself by
whistling complicated musical themes.

He had always been a whistler, and often maddened
and intrigued his fellow officers with his habit of
whistling tunes that were comments or footnotes to what was being discussed. When other amusements
were in short supply, as was often the case in the Penin
sular campaigns, it was considered a good game to
guess what chain of unconscious logic led Captain Dal
ton to whistle his current choice.

It wasn’t hard to un
derstand why mentioning London brought forth
“Oranges and Lemons,” or a lament on the lack of de
cent drink a chorus of “John Barleycorn.” But some
times the references were more obscure, and numerous
energetic discussions had resulted on why “A-Rovin’ ”
or “Jack the Jolly Tar” had been heard. Richard was no
help; when questioned, he would just smile and whistle a Spanish phrase that translated as “Who knows?”

More than a week had passed since his initial discus
sion with Josiah Chelmsford, and he was still uncertain
whether the life of an earl was worth considering.
Josiah had invited him back with the bait of more infor
mation on his parents’ early years.

He entered the of
fice and was received by the clerk with much more
civility than on his first visit. He smiled wryly. Such
toad-eating would doubtless be a principal side effect of
becoming a peer of the realm.

Josiah greeted Richard with a handshake and a jovial
“Good day, my boy. You are looking very much more
the thing than when we last met. Are you coming to terms with your unexpected fortune?”

“Good day sir. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I
have no more idea what to do now than last week.”

“I don’t want to press you, but I must explain
way your grandfather tied up the es
tate. It has been almost exactly a year since he died.
Under the terms of the will, I was to administer the es
tate for eighteen months while a search was made for
Julius Davenport or his heir. The earl was estranged
from your father for much longer than the seven years it takes to declare a missing person dead, but when he
revised his will after the death of your second uncle, I
told him of the letters I had received from Julius.

“Your father had notified me of your birth, and in
the absence of evidence to the contrary, I preferred to
assume you were alive. Unfortunately I had no idea where to look for you. Your father’s letters were re
markably unforthcoming. He was determined that no
one should trace him.

“At any rate, if no direct heir is found after eighteen
months, the estate will pass to the heir presumptive,
your father’s cousin Reginald Davenport. He is the son
of the earl’s younger brother, but closer in age to you
than to your father.”

Chelmsford paused and fiddled with the pipe he had
been puffing. “Your grandfather did not like many peo
ple, but he particularly disliked Reginald. Your cousin
has quite a reputation as a gamester, fighter, and all-around rake. He was forbidden entry to his lordship’s
presence for the last ten years. Nonetheless, he assumes
himself to be the next earl and has all but painted a
crest on his carriage. He is pressing me to wind this
business up as quickly as possible. I suspect he has
been living on his expectations for some time.”

“You haven’t told anyone about me, have you?”

“No, no, I will respect your wishes on that point. The only one who knows is my senior clerk, Wilkes, and he
is discretion personified. I would like to suggest some
thing to you. Why not go to Gloucestershire with me
and visit the estate unofficially? You could stay there as
Richard Dalton. We can find some pretext to justify
your presence to the staff. Perhaps you could be taking
inventory for me, preparatory to winding up the trust.
The country air would be good for you, and the
Cotswold scenery is some of the finest in Britain.”

Richard bit his lip reflectively. “I wouldn’t
mind getting out of London, and the surgeons are
about ready to release me. But will Wargrave Park be
full of old family retainers who will instantly recognize
me as a Davenport?”

“No, I think it unlikely. While you greatly resemble your father, his resemblance was to his mother. He did not look at all like a Davenport.”

The solicitor smiled nostalgically. “Your grand
mother was a remarkable woman. Not a great beauty,
but with a sweetness of temper that softened even your
grandfather. She brought fresh blood and common
sense to the family. Had she been alive, the rift between the earl and your father would never have oc
curred.”

“What kind of men were my uncles?” Richard asked.

“Rodrick, the eldest brother, was wild and extrava
gant. Several fortunes went to covering his debts.
When he was of an age when he could no longer avoid
settling down and taking an interest in his inheritance, he succumbed to lung fever. I sometimes wonder if he
died rather than do an honest day’s work.”

“And the middle brother?”

“Henry rightly felt that
Rodrick was his father’s favorite, while Julius was very
much his mother’s son. Instead of becoming his own
man, he turned his back on his family. He
...
didn’t
like women. He would not marry even after he became
heir to the estate. I believe it pleased him to frustrate his father.”

“A delightful pair. More and more I can understand
why my father felt no desire to stay in contact with his
family.”

At this point a fracas outside the office distracted Josiah from his account. The clerk Wilkes could be
heard saying, “You can’t go in there. Mr. Chelmsford is
with a client.”

The reply was muffled but peremptory. The door
flew open and a tall, contemptuous-looking gentleman
strode in. He looked to be near forty, but the lines of
dissipation in his face may have aged him prematurely.
Dark hair and a sallow face contrasted oddly with eyes
of a pale, cold aquamarine blue. While his clothing was
expensive, he wore it with a damn-your-eyes careless
ness that lacked the immaculate neatness Brummell
had made fashionable. His glance passed indifferently
over Richard to fasten on Josiah.

“How much longer must this farce go on?” he said in a scornful voice. “Your delay in settling the estate is se
riously discommoding me, and I’ve a strong mind to
find a judge who agrees the trust should be wound up
immediately.”

Chelmsford looked back coldly. The cheerfully ro
tund solicitor had been replaced by the hard-eyed man
of law. “Do not waste idle threats on me, Mr. Daven
port. Getting the Chancery involved in this would only
result in considerably more delay. There is not a lawyer
born who cannot stall a case for four or five times the
natural length, and I promise you that is what will hap
pen if you interfere with your uncle’s will. The trust
will end normally in six months. I would suggest you attempt to live within your means until then.”

The intruder’s mouth tightened. “Then perhaps you
could advance me some monies from the estate? It is,
after all, my own.”

“That remains to be seen. In the meantime, I am responsible for the Wargrave lands and fortune, and not
a penny will be spent except on legitimate expenses. If
the property ever comes to you, it will be intact to that
point.”

“You realize that the day I assume the title, you will
cease to be employed by the Wargrave estate?”

“Believe me, if you do become the next earl, I should
resign your employ the moment you inherit.”

“Then it seems we understand each other perfectly,
Chelmsford.” The tall rawboned figure turned in a
flurry of driving capes and stormed out, closing the
door with a slam.

“And that, Richard, is your cousin Reginald,” the
lawyer said dryly. “In case you hadn’t guessed.”

Richard had been watching the scene with a half-
smile on his face. “He is a poor inducement to declare
myself an official Davenport. Would I acquire many
relatives like him?”

“They aren’t all such a set of dirty dishes. Even Regi
nald has his better moments. This is the first time he has lost control and railed at me; I expect it means a particularly bad run of cards or horses. Or both. Cer
tainly he is a selfish care-for-nobody, though he has a reputation for courage. They say he has fought several
duels and is a dangerous man to cross. Do you find him
alarming?”

“Having a regiment of Napoleon’s crack cavalry charge when you are outnumbered three to one is
‘alarming.’ My cousin I merely find rag-mannered. Is he a ‘typical Davenport’?”

“That he is. However, since you were raised away
from the traditional mold, you have the perfect opportunity to change the definition.”

The lawyer continued, “Now is the
time to tell you the other drawbacks. The Wargrave properties are potentially among the richest in Eng
land, but they were badly neglected in your grandfa
ther’s later years. Much of the property
was mortgaged to cover your uncle’s debts. The estate
can provide a comfortable income as it stands, but
years of care and good management will be required
for Wargrave to yield its full potential. It may not be a task to your liking.”

“What would the income be if Wargrave were free
and clear?”

“In the neighborhood of thirty thousand pounds a
year.”

“Thirty thousand pounds!” Richard jerked upright in
his chair, his calm at last disturbed.

Chelmsford shrugged. “About that. More if some
capital were invested in the Yorkshire moorlands you
own. There’s coal under them, and mining would pro
vide some badly needed jobs in the area, as well as
being a good investment. Mind you, the estate is producing nothing like that now, and it would take years to pay off the outstanding mortgages.”