The Player (Rockliffe Book 3) (30 page)

This did the trick.

Betsy stepped back and said severely, ‘My
lord!
 
Such language – and in front of
the young lady, too.
 
Shame on you!
 
A body would think you’d never been taught
proper manners – which I know for a fact you were!’

Caroline managed not to laugh.
 
Mr
Bailes
didn’t.
 

Looking duly chastened, Adrian said gravely, ‘I
beg your pardon, Betsy. But the young lady and I are to be married on Saturday
– so it’s probably best that she knows all my faults, don’t you think?’

‘Married?’
 
Betsy’s reddened eyes immediately impaled Caroline. ‘Is that so, Miss?’

‘It is.’
 
She smiled.
 
‘I daresay his
lordship will presently remember the rest of his manners and introduce us properly
– but, in the meantime, I’d be delighted if you and Mr
Bailes
would agree to attend our wedding.’

This produced a ripple of shock in both Betsy and Mr
Bailes
and caused Adrian to bathe Caroline in a
sudden, dazzling smile.

It was perhaps fortunate that Sally chose that
moment to enter with the tray.
 
By the
time everyone was settled with a cup of tea, Adrian had steered the
conversation beyond the inevitable exclamations of the great honour of being
invited to his lordship’s wedding but that acceptance wouldn’t be fitting and
into more practical channels.
 
Once Mr
Bailes
had formally agreed to take up the post of
head-gardener and Betsy – or Mrs Holt, as she was to be known to the servants
under her command – had been appointed as house-keeper, he moved smoothly on to
the question of accommodation and other practicalities.

Caroline watched him and thought,
You must have been a very nice little boy
and a charming, open-hearted young man if the affection these two old people
have for you is any indication. And all that warmth is still there … buried
beneath the damage done by Marcus Sheringham, that wretched girl and your
blasted parents.
 
If two of them weren’t
already dead, I could murder them all.
 

But she kept smiling and, deciding that Betsy and
his lordship would probably appreciate a few moments of privacy, waited until Mr
Bailes
had finished his tea before asking if he would
care to take a tour of the garden and see the mammoth task that awaited him
there.

Adrian watched them go and, when the door closed
behind them, turned back to Betsy, saying, ‘You will have to humour me,
Betsy.
 
I’ve a lot to make up for.’

‘You’ve
nothing
to make up for, my lord.
 
None of it was
your fault and the way the old Earl treated you was downright disgraceful,’ she
replied heatedly. ‘And if he thought any of us would have said a bad word about
you, he was a nodcock.’

‘Among other things.
 
But stupidity doesn’t excuse what he
did.’
 
He smiled persuasively.
 
‘Come to my wedding, Betsy.
 
Aside from yourself and Mr
Bailes
, the only other witness will be my old friend,
Bertrand.’

She looked at him sideways.
 
‘Not your lady mother?’

‘My lady mother has no idea of either my present
whereabouts or my immediate intentions.
 
She’ll be informed after the event by letter – and politely requested to
remove to the dower house forthwith.
 
Even if I could stomach the thought of living with her – which I can’t –
I won’t have her looking down her nose at Caroline.’

There was a pause and then Betsy said cautiously,
‘She seems a very pleasant young lady.’

The chill vanished and he laughed.

‘She’s a very
straight-forward
young lady who doesn’t do things just because they’re correct.
 
If she asked you to the wedding, it’s because
she’d like you to be there and because she’s guessed that I would, too.’
 
He rose and drawing his new house-keeper to
her feet, said, ‘If you want to know more about her, come to the other window
and see how she and Mr
Bailes
are getting on.’

Out in the hopelessly overgrown garden, Mr
Bailes
was pointing to something and Caroline appeared to
be listening with interest to what he was saying.
 
The two of them studied the ground for a
moment and Caroline sank down to pull at a small plant, then rose again to show
it to the gardener.

‘You see?’ said Adrian quietly. ‘You need have no
fears.’

‘She’s not much like that other one, is she?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘It doesn’t do to speak ill of the dead, of course
… and what happened to the poor girl was terrible.
 
But she wasn’t good enough for you, my
lord.
 
Not
nearly
good enough.’
 
She
shook her head.
 
‘Mr
Bailes
told us how him and Old Matthew saw her up there, prancing about on the ledge
until she got all tangled up in her robe.
 
They didn’t know you were up there as well until she started to fall and
you shot forward to try and catch her.
 
It’s hard to know how horrible that was for you.’

Suddenly very still, it was a long time before
Adrian spoke.
 
Then, in an odd tone, he
said, ‘Mr
Bailes
saw it?’

‘Yes, my lord.
 
He says he saw it all.
 
Ask him
yourself and he’ll tell you – just like he tried to tell the late Earl.’
 
She scowled and added bitterly, ‘It’s the
greatest pity in the world that he wasn’t listened to.’

*
 
*
 
*

Adrian insisted on Bertrand taking Mr
Bailes
and Betsy home in the carriage and arranged for him
to collect them and their belongings the following morning.
 
As soon as the carriage rolled away, Caroline
turned to him with a smile only to recognise something in his face that she
hadn’t seen in two days; an impervious remoteness that told her something was
wrong.
 

Unfortunately, before she could ask what it was, a
horseman appeared round a bend in the lane and Sarre said expressionlessly,
‘It’s the vicar.
 
Since I’m likely to
tell him to go to the devil and it’s you he wants to see anyway, I’ll leave you
to deal with him.’ And he turned on his heel and strode into the house.

Polite but firm, Caroline disposed swiftly of the
Reverend Conant. Having thanked him for calling and apologised for the fact
that Lord Sarre was much occupied at present and therefore unable to receive
him, she explained that the understanding between herself and the Earl was of a
long-standing nature but, due to private circumstances, they wished to marry
quietly. She was quite sure, she said cheerfully, that the Reverend would
understand.

Then, as soon as she’d sent the affronted cleric
on his way, she went in search of Adrian.
 
He was in the back parlour, staring out of the window.

Caroline said, ‘What is it?’

‘What is what?’ He didn’t turn round and his voice
was faintly dismissive.

‘What’s wrong?’
 
And, when he still didn’t turn, she walked over to grasp his arm and
pull him to face her.
 
His eyes were no
longer expressionless.
 
They were full of
something stark and painful and angry.
 
‘Adrian?
 
What did Betsy say?
 
Tell
me.’

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse
and simply walk away.
 
Then he said
carefully, ‘She told me that both Mr
Bailes
and Old
Matthew saw Evie on the parapet that day and they saw her fall.
 
The first they saw of me was when – when I
flung myself over to catch her.’

This didn’t sound like a bad thing.
 
In fact, it sounded the opposite.
 
It meant that, if he chose, he could prove he
didn’t commit murder.
 
But because his
expression was still bleak enough to make hell freeze, Caroline said
cautiously, ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’
 
He
paused, a pulse beating in his throat. ‘It would have been even better if my
father had felt inclined to listen when Mr
Bailes
tried to tell him what he’d seen.’

She looked at him, absorbing the final, damning
blow contained in that one sentence.
 
If
there were words that might make this any better, she didn’t know what they
were.
 
She only knew that he looked as if
his guts had been wrenched out … and that she wanted to cry for him.

She whispered, ‘Oh my dear …’ And, using the only
comfort she knew how to give, wrapped her arms about him and held him tight.

Little by little, she felt his muscles relax and
eventually his own arms crept about her.
 
He leaned his cheek against her hair and she heard a long, sighing
breath.
 
Finally, he said, ‘I don’t know
why I’m shocked.
 
I shouldn’t be.
 
And I ought to be immune to it by now.’

‘Of
course
you’re not immune to it,’ she said fiercely. ‘Only a man as cold-hearted as
your father could
possibly
be immune
to something like this.
 
And, though you
sometimes give a fairly accurate appearance of it,
you
are not cold-hearted at all.’
 
She paused and then muttered, ‘It’s a pity he’s dead.
 
There are a few things I’d like to make clear
to him.’

She felt rather than heard the tremor of his
laughter and also felt him gathering her a little closer.
 
He said, ‘I appreciate the sentiment … but
granite doesn’t scratch easily.’

‘Grandfather always says one should never back
away from a challenge.’
 
The warm skin of
his throat was very near her mouth.
 
She
wanted to lick it but didn’t quite dare. ‘The Reverend hoped I’d explain why
we’re marrying in secret, by the way.’

‘That’s no surprise.
 
What did you say?’
 

‘I more or less told him to mind his own
business.’

‘Excellent.’
 
Adrian was beginning to enjoy the feel of her body against his more than
he should but wasn’t quite ready to let her go.
 
‘Am I forgiven for my earlier transgressions?’

Caroline smiled into his neck.

‘Grandfather also says that bearing grudges is bad
for business.’

‘I’m becoming quite fond of your grandfather.’

‘I expect that comes of knowing which side your
bread is buttered, my lord.’

‘That is undoubtedly true.’
 
Realising that good intentions weren’t
sufficient, he let his arms slip away from her.
 
‘I was Adrian a little while ago.
 
What happened to him?’

Far too much
and none of it good
.

‘Nothing.
 
I
just think that he and Lord Sarre ought to be better acquainted.’

*
 
*
 
*

Having left Town without troubling to open the
newspaper, Lord Sheringham arrived in Deal very much later than he’d
anticipated owing to one of his horses casting a shoe in an inconvenient spot a
few miles short of Canterbury. The resulting delay along with the knowledge
that he would be completing his journey in the dark resulted in a mood of
profound irritation. This was not improved by the discovery that the only
available bedchamber at The King’s Head was at the front of the house and of
miserable proportions.
 
Marcus scowled at
the landlord, barked orders at the ostler regarding his own horses and the one
he wished to hire the following morning and then stamped into the coffee room,
demanding a decent supper.

The food was better than expected and the brandy
that followed it, exceptionally fine.
 
This, reflected Marcus, was no particular surprise since the Trade
flourished all along this part of the coast and presumably kept the inn
well-supplied.
 
The evening was further
improved by the company of two garrulous locals who, without realising it, gave
him a good deal of useful information.

They recommended that, if his lordship was wishful
to ride to Sandwich, he’d do best to take the old road along the coast.
 
Then, when he reached a big old house with twisty
chimneys, he’d need to turn inland and head across country.
 

The old
house?
 

Well, aside from a caretaking couple, the place
has been empty for years now … though somebody had told somebody else that the
lord who owned it was back from foreign parts.
 

The
owner?
 

Why that’d be the new Earl of Sarre, your lordship
… and everyone hoping he’d be less of a bastard than the old one had been.

Marcus bought them both another drink and then
retired to his inadequate bedchamber to plot his strategy.
 
There could be no doubt that Sarre had
Caroline at Devereux House.
 
So far, so
good.
 
But before anything further could
be accomplished, he would need to discover two things.
 
First, whether the Earl had done the
unthinkable and married the girl; and second, how many servants he had who
might get in the way. Hopefully, not too many.