The Smuggler and the Society Bride (19 page)

Aunt Foxe's eyes lit. ‘I can send you to my good friend, Lady Alicia Porter. She resides in London and knows everyone of consequence. If some great scandal occurred, Alicia would surely know of it—or know someone who does. If you can wait a moment, I will write you a note of introduction.'

‘Of course,' Gabe replied.

‘I shall be back directly.'

Wondering with growing hope and excitement what information her friend might possess, in the few minutes until Aunt Foxe's return, Gabe paced the room.

‘I appreciate this exceedingly, ma'am,' he said, walking over as she entered to take the sealed note she held out.

‘My niece is very dear to me,' she replied. ‘I would do anything in my power to assist her. May I ask, Captain Hawksworth, why
you
are doing this for her?'

‘Because I admire her. Because so flagrant an injustice perpetrated against an innocent outrages me. Because even if the wrong cannot be righted, if I can offer her a reason for it, she may find living with the consequences a bit easier to bear.'

‘You admire her, you say. Do you realize that, should your quest be successful, her innocence proven and her position in Society restored, you would be returning her to a life that would distance her from you, probably resulting in the permanent loss of your friendship?'

‘You mean that Miss Marie Foxe, a connection of the influential Carlow family, would be far above the touch of a Captain Hawksworth of the
Flying Gull
?' Gabe asked bluntly. ‘Yes, I realize that.'

‘I think perhaps you more than just
admire
her,' Aunt Foxe said softly.

Just how deeply engaged his emotions were, Gabe didn't truly know yet himself. He did know he cared passionately about Miss Foxe's welfare and that resolving her predicament had inspired him to the fervour almost of a holy quest, one he simply had to pursue.

Of course, with his true position in Society being a good deal more elevated than Aunt Foxe was aware, he had hopes that even should her niece's reputation be restored, as long as he left Cornwall without destroying his own, he might entertain some hope of a future for them.

However, since he wasn't prepared to reveal any of this yet, he said simply, ‘What man could encounter such a brave and vibrant spirit and fail to fall under her spell?'

‘She does possess a brave and vibrant spirit, one that has already been gravely wounded. I should be as angry as you
appear to be now if some…careless rogue intent on his own pleasure were to wound her again.'

Gabe recognized a test—and a threat—when he heard one. ‘I promise you, ma'am, upon my most solemn oath, that I desire only your niece's welfare.'

Once again Aunt Foxe studied him. He returned her steady gaze unflinchingly.

Finally she nodded. ‘I believe you do. Then I must wish you luck, Captain, in all your endeavours.'

‘Thank you, ma'am. If you would be so kind as to convey my compliments to your niece? As my presence will be required back in Cornwall shortly, I intend to leave for London today and so will probably not have occasion to take leave of her.'

‘You will not be speaking with her again before you journey to London?' Aunt Foxe said in surprise.

‘No, I mean to depart almost immediately.'

‘I see,' she replied, frowning.

‘Is something wrong?' Gabe asked, sensing some anxiety in the older woman. ‘Some reason I should not go now?'

After a moment, Aunt Foxe shook her head. ‘N-no. It's not my place to intervene; anything else that needs to be said should come directly from my niece. So, you wish me to convey to her only your compliments?'

Gabe thought about what he might say—wished he could say, but neither the place nor the time were yet right. He had a mystery to solve, at least one more shipment to transport and a future to determine before he could make any decisions—or declarations—regarding Miss Marie Foxe. ‘Tell her I thank her for the honour of her friendship, and will do my best.'

Aunt Foxe offered him her hand. ‘If you should find this varmint, Captain, I would appreciate your landing him another kick in the teeth for me.'

Gabe gave her a wolfish grin. ‘I would be most happy to comply.'

She escorted him to the parlour door, then hesitated, her
wise eyes studying his face. ‘I do hope you are prepared for whatever you might discover.'

‘If Miss Foxe could endure what she has been forced to endure, I expect I can face whatever truth my quest might reveal.'

She smiled slightly. ‘Thank you for being such a friend to my niece. She is worth every bit of your effort and devotion.'

‘I know,' he replied softly, and walked out the door.

I
n the early afternoon little more than a week later, Gabe waited in an elegant anteroom in a Mayfair town house to be received by Aunt Foxe's London friend, Lady Alicia Porter.

Too restless to remain seated now that he was so close, perhaps, to obtaining the information he needed to identify the blackguard who'd injured Miss Foxe, Gabe paced the room, mulling over what he'd accomplished since leaving for London.

Wishing to travel as quickly as possible, he'd booked passage on the mail coach rather than travelling post. After departing from the Ship and Castle in Penzance, and with the extravagance of booking two inside seats so as to not be crowded by some onion-breathed farmer, he arrived at the Bull and Mouth at St Martins-le-Grand in London a little more than thirty-six hours later.

After repairing to the inn to sleep and bathe, he'd presented himself at Lady Alicia's town house that same afternoon, only to meet with the disappointing intelligence that her ladyship was out of town visiting a friend and would not return for another three days.

Deciding to delay searching for the Gypsy gem dealer until after he'd learned what Lady Alicia could tell him about the
Carlow scandal, he turned his efforts instead to investigating merchants who might be willing to handle the schoolgirls' knitted goods.

After strolling Bond Street, inquiring at several shops that dealt in lady's furnishings, he learned as expected that the discriminating clientele who patronized these shops preferred gloves fashioned from a variety of fine leathers. Except perhaps for cotton net gloves for summer wear, the merchants there weren't interested in stocking knitted goods.

On the recommendation of the innkeeper's wife, he'd next stopped at a variety of stalls in the Shepherd's Market area. Here he had better luck, finding several who admired the intricate patterns in Mrs Steavens's handiwork and allowed that they might be willing to accept some for sale.

His inquiries among the art dealers had been even more promising. After paying his shilling admittance to the European Picture Gallery in Haymarket, which contained oil paintings by well-known artists as well as prints and sketches, he sought out the proprietor. Mr Avery was most impressed by the charcoal drawing Eva had made of Miss Foxe, and when Gabe told him she would be producing landscapes of Cornish scenes, he grew even more enthusiastic.

One of England's rising young artists, a Mr Turner, the proprietor told him, had spent some months at St Ives, completing there a series of Cornish landscapes that had created a great stir among collectors. He had many knowledgeable clients who admired the Turner canvasses and would be very interested in acquiring similar works. If the artist Gabe represented could provide him with drawings or paintings of the same subjects rendered with the level of skill demonstrated by the charcoal sketch he'd just seen, Mr Avery assured Gabe he would have no trouble selling them. The price he named, Gabe felt sure, would put a smile on the face of Miss Foxe—and might go a ways toward getting Eva's sister away from the unsavoury John Kessel.

He had just reached that satisfying conclusion when the
butler bowed himself back into the room. ‘Lady Alicia will receive you now, sir,' he said, motioning for Gabe to follow.

He escorted Gabe into a drawing room of even greater magnificence. Seated on an elegant divan near the hearth was an older lady dressed in the first stare of fashion.

He bowed before walking over to kiss the hand she extended. ‘Thank you, Lady Alicia, for receiving me.'

She inclined her head regally. ‘I'm delighted to offer hospitality to a young man recommended to me by one of my dearest friends. Living at the end of the world as she does, I seldom get to see Alexandre. But I note that the passage of years has not robbed her of her discerning eye, for I make no doubt, you are a handsome rogue!'

While Gabe felt his face redden, she laughed and said, ‘So, Captain Hawksworth, how can I help you? Alexandre mentioned you were searching for information.'

‘Yes, your ladyship. It concerns a scandal that occurred some twenty years or so ago, involving a prominent family named Carlow.'

To Gabe's delight and rising excitement, her eyes widened and she leaned forward. ‘The Carlows? My, yes! No one then living in London will ever forget it! The most delicious scandal, with accusations and counter-accusations, illicit affairs, the attainder against the convicted man's family. Though, unlike the recent scandal, I should have said the earl's friends were more nearly involved in it than he.'

‘The earl?' Gabe repeated. When Lady Alicia raised her eyebrows, he said apologetically, ‘I'm not well acquainted with London Society.'

‘George Carlow, head of the family, is Earl of Narborough. Won't you have a seat, Captain, and let me call for refreshments? This shall require some time to recount. How kind of Alexandre to send you to me, for I do so love telling a good story!'

After allowing that a glass of wine would be delightful, Gabe seated himself. His first, startled reaction was that Miss
Foxe was much more well-connected than he had imagined. Although he probably shouldn't have been surprised. The more elevated her connections, the greater her disgrace would have been, and she'd already admitted to him that she'd been one of Society's Diamonds.

His next thought was that he'd better resign himself to a long interview. Difficult as it would be to restrain his strong urge to press Lady Alicia for a short, succinct summation of events, so he might learn what he could and be on his way, her initial speech indicated that such a request probably wouldn't answer. Unlike her friend, the very discreet Aunt Foxe, it was apparent that Lady Alicia found gossip the food and wine of life and was neither reticent about conveying it nor anxious to do so quickly.

With as much good grace as he could muster, he answered her inquiries about her friend Alexandre's current health and activities. Finally, a pot of tea being provided for her and a glass of wine for him, the butler withdrew and Lady Alicia began her tale.

‘It must be nearly twenty years now since that scandal transpired. George Carlow, Earl of Narborough, and his closest friend, William Wardale, Earl of Leybourne, both worked for the Home Office—apparently on some sort of spying activity. Also involved was Christopher Hebden, Baron Framlingham, a brilliant but rather unsteady man.

‘It was said that Leybourne vehemently opposed Framlingham's involvement in the work, telling Narborough the man was too boastful and indiscreet. It wasn't just over business that the two clashed; Leybourne had courted Framlingham's wife Amanda before their marriage and objected to the way that gentleman, a rake both before and after being wed, treated his former sweetheart. As well he might; one later discovered Framlingham had fathered a bastard son with a Gypsy woman and forced his wife to keep the brat!'

While Lady Alicia paused to sip her tea, Gabe's mind worked furiously. If Gypsies were involved, having one of
their clan exact some sort of revenge into the next generation was entirely believable. Impatiently, he waited for his hostess to continue.

Setting down her cup again, Lady Alicia said, ‘As if the disagreement weren't already bitter enough, Leybourne had begun a discreet affair with Amanda. The exact turn of events was never entirely sorted out, but it is known that the two men had a terrible quarrel just days before the murder.'

‘
Murder?'
Gabe burst out.

‘Yes, murder!' Lady Alicia said with relish. ‘On the evening in question, the three were to meet at Narborough's home over some matter of business. Narborough arrived late, to find Leybourne and Framlingham in the garden, struggling, Leybourne with a bloody knife in his hands! Framlingham died before he could be questioned, but with Narborough seeing the whole, there seemed little doubt about what had happened, even though Leybourne swore he was innocent.'

She paused again for a sip of tea and, desperately anxious to have her complete the tale, Gabe restrained himself from making any comment that would delay her resuming it.

‘However, as Leybourne could produce no alibi for his whereabouts that night nor any clue to the identity, or even existence, of some other murderer—for he admitted he'd seen no one else in the garden with Framlingham, whom he claimed to have found already stabbed and dying—the jury swiftly convicted him. Leybourne's title was attainted, his lands seized by the crown, and he was hanged. All the while, his best friend Narborough did nothing to assist him, even though Leybourne continued to swear he was innocent.'

‘A tangle indeed,' Gabe said, shaking his head. Here was a matter serious enough to produce the sort of vindictiveness from which Miss Foxe had suffered. Could someone from the disgraced Wardales have revenged himself upon a Carlow relation in payment for the earl's not defending his friend?

But why choose Miss Foxe? She seemed too far removed from the original events to make such a reaction credible.

‘But there is more,' Lady Alicia broke into his reflections. ‘On the day of the hanging, Framlingham's Gypsy woman, apparently deranged with grief, cursed all the families involved in the murder of her lover and then hanged herself out a window!'

‘Rather dramatic,' Gabe murmured. Was the gem trader related to Framlingham's Gypsy mistress? If he were a member of the same clan, that could be reason enough for him to seek revenge on those who had driven his kinswoman to suicide—and a Gypsy might very well consider anyone with a connection to the responsible families an acceptable target.

But a Gypsy merchant would hardly have entrée to mingle freely at a Ton party. Could one of the Wardales, perhaps living on the fringes of polite society, have colluded with the Gypsy to exact a joint revenge?

His conviction growing as the tale continued, Gabe felt nearly certain that what happened to Miss Foxe must be somehow connected to this ancient scandal, and that the gem trader was involved.

Then another thought struck him. ‘What happened to Framlingham's Gypsy son?' he demanded.

‘Lady Framlingham was with child when all this transpired. Already in uncertain health, the grief and distress of her husband's murder caused her to collapse. Her family, the Herriards, took her in and while she was still prostrate, sent the Gypsy brat to a foundling home, which later burned to the ground, killing all the inmates.'

So much for his idea that the gem trader might be Framlingham's half-Gypsy son. But he could still have a connection to the Gypsy woman. Someone who believed in William Wardale's innocence and burned with hatred for George Carlow, the man who had let his best friend go to the gallows without trying to exonerate him, could have engaged a relation of the wronged Gypsy woman to exact vengeance for them both.

‘What happened to the Wardales?'

‘The widow withdrew from Society, of course. There was some talk that George Carlow had attempted to assist her and had been refused. The children should be grown by now, but I have no idea where they are or how they get on.'

‘Is there anything else you can remember about the affair?'

Lady Alicia considered a moment, then said, ‘I don't believe so. After the hanging, the scandal gradually subsided. The Wardales disappeared; Amanda Hebden remarried—a scholarly man, I believe, who didn't figure much in Society. George Carlow continued in government service until his health began to fail.'

She angled her head and looked at him curiously. ‘Surely you don't think that old scandal is related in any way to the recent one? From what I've heard, 'twas the girl's own foolhardiness that brought about her ruination.'

‘Actually it was not; she was persuaded to go to the garden under false pretences, a matter I am trying to prove. Although I admit, it does seem rather far-fetched that someone would have concocted the elaborate scheme used to discredit her because of a long-distant scandal to which she had only the most tenuous of connections.'

‘She was lured to her ruin, you say?' Lady Alicia echoed, much shocked. ‘Are you sure of this?'

‘Quite sure,' Gabe replied. ‘'Twas a monstrous injustice, which I should like to redress.'

‘Gracious, I would think so!' she declared. ‘For someone to deliberately
arrange
the ruin of Carlow's daughter—why, I've never heard of such wickedness! Lady Honoria must have been hardly more than an infant when those events took place.'

Confusion swirled in Gabe's head. ‘Lady Honoria?' he repeated.

‘Yes. That is what you were referring to, isn't it? The dreadful contretemps a month or so ago when Carlow's eldest daughter, Lady Honoria, was caught in the garden at Lady
Dalrington's ball, virtually
in flagrante delecto
with that infamous lecher Lord Barwick?'

Even as the truth of it slammed into him with a sick conviction, Gabe tried to deny it. ‘I…I thought the compromised lady was a Miss Foxe.'

‘No, no, you're confusing the names, probably because of the girl's connection to Alexandre. You did say you weren't familiar with London Society! Lady Honoria's mother— Anne—was a Foxe, niece to my friend, but the chit is a Carlow. I'm assuming Alexandre asked you to inquire about her? I believe she always had a fondness for her great-niece. I expect the girl is at Stanegate Court now, the Carlow country estate in Hertfordshire. 'Tis the most likely place that Carlow's eldest son Marcus, Viscount Stanegate, who has virtually assumed the running of the family since George's last attack, would have sent her to rusticate until the furour died down.'

Marcus. My elder brother, Marc.
‘I—I suppose I did confuse them,' he said, his tone full of an irony lost on Lady Alicia.

‘I do feel for the girl, poor thing, even though it's said she was wild to a fault. After having been ruined so thoroughly, and with her fiancé Lord Readesdell repudiating her after the scandal, it's unlikely that she'll ever marry.'