The Great Christmas Ball (16 page)

“That might be best.”

“I shall dart up and change before Mama sees me. I must devise a new disguise for tomorrow. I froze my tail in this dashed getup. Don’t leave until I return. We have to decide on tonight’s surveillance.”

He left, and Costain turned to Cathy with a cynical smile on his lips and fire in his eyes.

Cathy played with the folds of her skirt, determined not to be intimidated by Costain’s manner. She watched as his tight smile dwindled to a sneer.

“Had Burack anything else to accuse me of?” he asked stiffly.

“No, you were not the sole subject of our conversation,” she replied.

“I wonder what he will make of this visit? I assume he is having me watched.”

“He will think you are keeping me in spirits, in case you require another quick translating job, perhaps,” she suggested, and looked closely for his response.

Costain rose from the sofa and began pacing. His brows drew together. “You sound as if he is innocent! Can’t you see what he is up to? He is trying to discredit me. His first visit may have been vague and tentative, a warning only, speaking of 'other things,’ to beguile you into friendship. Next time he will ask your help. Don’t be surprised if he wants you to notify him of what I have had translated."

“Is there likely to be a next time, milord?” she asked archly. Excitement lent a sparkle to her eyes and a breathless tone to her voice. She could not decide which of the men was innocent. It was beginning to seem that she must play them both along, and eventually make her own decision.

“Why don’t we devise one?” he suggested. “I have a footman deliver a letter to me at the Guards, I slip out of the office and fly to you. I write a message up in English, which you put into German. Let Burack have a copy, it can do no harm, for it will not contain any real information.”

“What is the point of that?”

“I follow him and see where he goes with it.”

“But he will be following you.”

“He will if he is innocent. If he takes the message elsewhere—well, it would be interesting to see what he does with it,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“You think he might take it to Mrs. Leonard?”

“Or even a milliner or modiste,” Costain replied.

Cathy tried to weigh the criminality of fooling Mr. Burack if Costain was the culprit. Would she end up in the Tower? On the other hand, if Burack was the bad spy, it was imperative that he be stopped. She had often wished for some excitement in her life when she sat in this very room translating Mr. Schiller’s philosophy. She had not thought it would be so very difficult and confusing. Her only wish now was that she had never met either Lord Costain or Mr. Burack.

Costain watched as her inner turmoil played itself out on her face. “What harm can it do?” he asked. “If Burack is innocent, I should be happy for his assistance. With two pairs of eyes at the Guards, we might achieve more success. I shan’t rush you into anything, however. Let us wait and see if Mr. Burack asks you to notify him of any further messages.”

“Very well,” she said in a small voice. Her decision seemed to have made itself. She would not tell Costain the request had already been made, but she would leave the door open to test Burack, since she could see no harm to England in it. It would be a spurious message, so even if Burack got to his French colleagues, nothing would be revealed.

Costain gave her a deprecatory look. “I sense a fading of your eagerness for this business, Miss Lyman.”

“On the contrary. I am as eager as ever to help my country.”

“Don’t let your eagerness lead you into danger. If you receive an urgent message from Burack asking you to meet him in some out-of-the-way spot, don’t go.”

“What would he want with me? I am no danger to him.”

“No, but if he suspects that I am on to him, you would make a fine bargaining tool. He believes that you and I are old friends. I am speaking of abduction,” he said bluntly when she frowned in confusion.

Her eyes widened in fear as she remembered she was going out with Burack that very evening.

“I did not mean to frighten you, but it is best for you to be aware of possible danger,” he said more gently.

“But—” She stopped, unsure whether she should reveal her outing with Burack. “You must warn Gordon, too,” she said.

“I shall, but they are more likely to abduct a lady. There is some special urgency in knowing a helpless lady is in danger, vulnerable to the violence of men without a conscience.”

“Costain! You are scaring me to death!”

He reached across the sofa and seized her hands in a firm grip. “Good. That is precisely what I want to do. Don’t take any chances—with Burack or anyone else. It would be my fault if anything happened to you.”

As their eyes locked, he felt himself being drawn deeper into her gaze, until he felt he was drowning. Was he mad to have involved an innocent young lady in this dangerous business? If anything happened to her— He swallowed and said, “I am the one who involved you in all this. It was not my intention, you know.”

Cathy gently withdrew from his grip. The warmth of his fingers lingered, making her hands tingle. She felt that Costain was behaving more as a proper spy and an eligible gentleman ought, with his warning and his hand-holding.

“It’s not your fault,” she allowed graciously. “If we had not followed you to St. James’s Park, we would not be so deeply in it as we are.”

“The fault is mine. I should not have come to you in the first place. You need not continue to be involved. In fact, there is no reason I cannot take my spurious letter to someone else for translation. There must be dozens of independent translators in London. I shall find someone else—”

“No!” The word came out loud and clear. “No,” she said more calmly. “It is not often that a lady has the chance to be involved in important affairs. If I can help, then I should like to do so.”

His admiring smile was reward enough. “Pluck to the backbone, Miss Lyman.” His fingers came up and just brushed her cheek. “But you will be careful,” he said softly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Although acutely aware of the message in his soft stroke, she replied only to his words. “Of course I shall.” Her lips opened to tell him of her date with Burack that evening, then she closed them. “When will you bring the new letter for translation?”

“Not for a few days. I shall need a little time to look into the private lives of Burack and Mrs. Leonard.” He drew a weary sigh before continuing. “It will go hard with Harold if his wife is involved. His sun rises and sets on her.”

Gordon returned, outfitted for the evening in black jacket and pantaloons. “Have you decided what we are to do tonight, Leo?” he asked.

“Actually, my name is Daniel,” Costain said. His eyes turned to Cathy.

He did not ask her to call him Daniel, but she felt there was some personal message there, some warmer look than she was accustomed to.

“Yes,” Gordon said, “but for business, you know, it is best to throw any stray listener off guard, so I refer to you as Leo.”

“I am flattered that you think me the king of the jungle. And what a jungle it is in these perilous times. About this evening, Lady Somerset is having a large charity ball. We might all go there.” He looked hopefully to Cathy. Her heart shriveled in regret. “Lady Cosgrave is one of the hostesses. Cosgrave sold me tickets last week. I shouldn’t be surprised if he also sold them to Burack and Leonard.”

Again Cathy opened her lips, but before she could speak, Gordon said, “Leonard cannot go when he has the gout.”

“That is not to say Mrs. Leonard will not attend,” Costain said. “We shall all go. I have half a dozen tickets. It was for a good cause. I meant to give Liz Stanfield a few of them.”

Gordon looked as if he had been struck by lightning. “Miss Stanfield! She might as well go with our party,” he said when he had recovered the use of his wits. “Mean to say, it is a bit late for her to get up a party of her own.”

“I shall stop by now and see if she is interested.”

“Remind her it is for a good cause,” Gordon said.
“Make
her come.”

“No one makes Liz do anything, but I expect she will come. She was bemoaning last evening that the winter was a dead bore.” He looked at Cathy and said, “I shall call for you—”

She finally got her speech out. “Actually, I am attending the ball with—with Mr. Burack,” she said, and felt unaccountably foolish.

“What!”
Costain stared in disbelief.

“I am attending the ball with Mr. Burack,” she repeated.

“Are you mad? When did this happen? Why did you not tell me?”

“It was arranged this afternoon, when he called.”

“Haven’t I just been telling you to stay away from him? Gordon, tell her this is insane.”

“You would have a much better time with us,” Gordon said.

“You can’t go alone with him. It isn’t safe,” Costain said, and began pacing the floor.

“But if I withdraw the invitation—well, it will look so very odd, and rude,” Cathy said, but she was hoping to be overborne.

“That is true,” Costain said over his shoulder. “Gordon, you’ll have to go with her.”

“I’ll do no such a thing. I shall go with Miss Stanfield.”

“I have spare tickets. Ask your mama or uncle to accompany you,” Costain said, turning back to Cathy.

Gordon leapt on this solution. “Mama was planning to go anyhow, was she not, Cathy? When I refused to take you, she said she would use the other ticket and go with you herself.”

Costain’s anger rose a notch higher at this revelation. When he spoke, his voice was thin. “Am I to understand you are standing buff for the evening, Miss Lyman? I can only assume that you also did the inviting. I fear you must have omitted the more interesting bits from your description of Burack’s visit.”

Gordon emitted a loud guffaw. “By Jove, I would give a monkey to have seen Cathy screwing up her courage to ask a fellow out. That will go into your diary, I wager.”

Costain reached into his pocket and handed Cathy two tickets. “Promise me you won’t go alone with Burack.”

She read the anger in his eyes, and, beneath it, something that looked strangely like genuine
concern. Perhaps even a tinge of jealousy ...

“Very well,” she said, and took the tickets.

“What time is he calling for you?” Costain asked in a tightly controlled voice.

“At eight-thirty.”

Costain said to Gordon, “I shall be here at eight. We’ll pick up Liz and be back here by eight-thirty.”

“What the devil for?” Gordon asked in confusion.

“To see that your sister is not abducted,” Costain said, choosing the hardest words he could find.

“You are being extremely foolish,” Cathy said mildly. But inside, a warm mist of pleasure swelled. Costain was jealous—of her and Mr. Burack.

Costain rose to begin his leave-taking. “You will be ready at eight sharp, Gordon? I shall drop by the Stanfields now and tell Liz that if she is not punctual, we shall go on without her.”

Gordon stared to hear anyone speak so firmly of Miss Stanfield. “I am ready already,” he replied.

Costain made a curt, angry bow. “Until this evening, then,” he said, and walked quickly to the door to let himself out.

In the study, Gordon shook his head. “Pity you invited that mawworm of a Burack to the party. How did you come to do such a thing? Costain did not like it above half.”

“It is none of Lord Costain’s business,” she replied with an angry
tsk,
but in truth she bitterly regretted her rashness. She might have gone to the ball on Lord Costain’s arm.

“Whatever you do, don’t ruin my chances with Miss Stanfield, Cathy. You know I have been dangling after her forever. This is my big chance.”

He darted back upstairs to improve his toilette without waiting for assurance.

* * *

As Costain leapt into his waiting carriage, he knew his anger was out of all proportion to Miss Lyman’s offence. She had no reason to suspect Burack of anything when she invited him to the ball.

She was free to do as she pleased, but the angry thought would not be kept down. Why had she not invited
him,
if she had tickets? Other girls were constantly inviting him to parties. Cathy’s mama made no secret that she approved of him, so that was not the problem. No, the simple fact was that she preferred Mr. Burack to himself. He had given her a disgust of him with his overbearing manner.

And as a result she was going out this evening with a man whom he half suspected was a spy. It seemed more than likely Burack was the infamous masked intruder. It was Burack who had followed him to King Charles Street. How else could he have known that the Lymans were involved? He would want close watching tonight.

"What is that horrid smell?” Lady Lyman demanded as Sir Gordon, reeking of Steak’s Lavender Water and wearing another extravagantly arranged cravat, took his seat at the dinner table. “I trust you have not dowsed yourself in scent, Gordon. A gentleman has no need of scent.”

“Just a dab behind my ears,” Gordon replied. “All the crack, Mama. You are a million years behind the times. Everyone uses it nowadays.”

“In my day, scent was for ladies,” Rodney announced.

“This is the nineteenth century, Uncle,” Gordon replied.

“I did not notice Lord Costain wearing scent,” Lady Lyman said with a smile in her daughter’s direction. “So kind of him to give Cathy his extra tickets, even when she refused to accompany him to the ball. Very clever of you, my dear, inviting Mr. Burack. That made Lord Costain open up his eyes and look sharp. There is nothing like a little competition to hasten a match along.”

A dish of turbot in white sauce was passed to the dame, and she helped herself to a fillet. For once, a pleasant meal was enjoyed at King Charles Street. Lady Lyman was pleased with her offspring. Cathy looked pretty in that deep blue moire gown. The dark color and severe cut added a touch of sophistication. Nothing was so aging as mutton dressed as lamb.