Waltz With a Stranger (29 page)

“It was no trouble,” Amy assured him, warmed by his praise. “Did the two of you enjoy your ride? I hope you did not get too wet and chilled.”

Aurelia shook her head. “We were fine, Amy. And our ride was pleasant, despite the rain. We waited out the worst of it in the folly, which you absolutely must see,” she added on a gurgle of laughter. “It looks just like a Grecian temple.”

James pulled a rueful face. “A Grecian temple with a leaky roof!”

“Leaks can be fixed,” Amy pointed out. “I’d love to see it, once the weather’s improved. How did you get on with your horse?” she asked her sister.

Aurelia smiled. “Oh, she was lovely—gentle as a kitten, surefooted as a goat. We even got up to a canter today on the way back, though I decided I wasn’t ready to gallop yet. Thank you for lending me your habit. Now, I’d best go up and change so I can return it to you.”

“Oh, keep it for now,” Amy insisted. “It’ll save you the trouble of borrowing it again.”

“Well, if you’re sure you won’t need it, dearest,” Aurelia began.

“Positive,” Amy declared. “I brought more than one habit with me, as you well know. Now, go up and change before you do get a chill!”

“Bossy!” her sister said with affection, then turned to the men. “Trevenan, Mr. Sheridan, if you’ll excuse me?” Picking up the habit’s damp skirts, she hurried from the room.

“I’d best go up myself,” Sheridan said. “Barlow must have my things unpacked by now.”

“I’ll have a footman show you to your room,” James said, going over to the bellpull. Once his guest had gone up, James turned back to Amy. “My dear, if you’ll allow me a few minutes to change, I’ll give you that tour of the house I promised you.”

She smiled, pleased that he’d remembered. “Thank you, James. I should like that.”

“I do not mean to neglect you, Amy,” he said, almost abruptly.

“Neglect me? It was my own choice to stay behind today. And I must say,” she added mischievously, “that I think I had the right idea, given the state of your Grecian temple.”

His mouth crooked in an odd sort of smile. “Perhaps you did at that,” was all he said as he headed for the door.

Slander,

Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue

Outvenoms all the worms of Nile…

—William Shakespeare,
Cymbeline

Something was wrong. James could tell the moment Harry entered the drawing room with his family on Thursday evening.

He could also see that, whatever was troubling Harry, the rest of the Tresilians had not been apprised of it. There was only pleased expectation on the faces of Aunt Isobel, Sophie, and John as he came forward to welcome them to Pentreath.

“Aunt Isobel, Sophie.” James kissed them both on the cheek. “Ladies, you look lovely tonight. John,” he clasped his younger cousin’s hand, “good to see you. Harry,” he took his older cousin’s elbow in an easy, affectionate clasp, “if I might have a word with you before dinner?”

Harry’s expression eased fractionally as they moved off together, leaving the others to Lady Talbot. “Thank you,” he said in a low voice. “I hoped to get you alone for a few minutes.”

“I could see by your face that something was wrong.” James spoke in an undertone as well. “Come, we can talk in the library.”

They left the drawing room and headed down the passage toward the rear of the house. No one in the library, James observed with relief as he closed the door behind them.

“Now, what’s happened?” he asked his cousin.

“This.” Harry took an envelope out of his breast pocket and handed it to James. “Another one of those damned letters—sent this time to our banker in Truro.”

“What?” James yanked out the single page at once and scanned the contents. The hand was the same, as were the vile accusations, but the tone was sharper. Less insinuating, more accusatory, though it still stopped just short of libel. More damningly, it did not hesitate to name names this time: “Harry Tresilian” and “Robin Pendarvis” were spelled out in full.

James looked up from the letter. “When did Curnow get this?”

“About two days ago. I went to see him yesterday about raising a loan for the hotel venture. He produced the letter and asked me if there was any truth in it. I denied it, of course.”

“Does he believe you?” James did not want to think about how bad things would get if their family banker thought them guilty of murder.

Harry did not reply at once, and James’s apprehension deepened. “He
says
he does, at least as far as you and I are concerned. He is less certain of Robin, unfortunately—not surprising since Robin’s a stranger to him. And he finds the rumor itself deeply disturbing.”

“He’s not alone in that,” James retorted. “So, did he agree to the loan?”

“No—at least, not yet. He wishes to be satisfied as to Robin’s character before he’ll advance us so much as a penny.” Harry exhaled. “James, I know you wish to keep this ugly affair quiet, but as Robin’s friend and future business partner, I feel I must inform him of this assault upon his character.”

Remembering his own doubts of Robin Pendarvis’s character, James hesitated—a fraction too long, as it happened.

Harry stared at him as if he’d become a stranger. “My God, you agree with Curnow.” His gaze sharpened. “More than that, you think Robin had something to do with Gerald’s death!”

“I didn’t say that,” James began, uncomfortably aware of how feeble that sounded.

“You didn’t bloody have to! I can read your face as well as you can read mine!” Harry paused, his eyes darkening. “We’re cousins, James. Blood kin. And beyond that, we’ve lived in each other’s pockets since boyhood. After all this time, does
my
judgment count for so little?”

James swallowed, feeling a chasm starting to open between them. “Harry, I value your judgment as I do that of no other man living. But no one is infallible, not even you. In normal circumstances, I would gladly give any friend of yours the benefit of the doubt—”

“Magnanimous of you,” his cousin interposed with heavy irony.

“But these aren’t normal circumstances,” James continued as though Harry had not spoken. “There’s too much at stake, for
all
of
us
.” He emphasized the last words, paused to let them sink in, and saw with relief that their significance was not lost on his cousin.

“Let’s not fall out over this,” he added in a more moderate tone. “I have the feeling that whoever wrote these letters would like nothing better than to see us at each other’s throats.”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it almost at once, then sighed. “You’re right, damn it all. If we let these rumors divide us, we’ve already lost.”

“Exactly. Whereas if we combine our forces and hold up our heads, we stand a good chance of coming through this unscathed. And whoever wrote this filth,” James struck the letter with his free hand, “will rue the day he put pen to paper.”

“Have you any idea who the culprit might be?” Harry asked.

“No, but someone has put an idea in my head that may be worth pursuing.” James paused. “I intend to pay a visit to my heir tomorrow.”

“Your heir?” Harry echoed, astonished.

“My third cousin, as it happens. Horatio Trelawney, an antiquarian. Married, with three adult children, and living on the coast a few miles north of us.”

Harry shook his head, bemused. “I never thought to wonder who came after you.”

“Nor did I, which gives you some idea of how unprepared I was for all this.” James sighed, rubbed a suddenly stiff neck. “I’ve spent the last two days looking him up. Wired my solicitor in London about the succession, then went hunting through the family Bible. God, there must be entries in it that go back over a century! Spoke to Aunt Judith too; she’s invaluable about such things, but even she didn’t know that Horatio was so close to the earldom. There were two other Trelawneys before him,” he explained. “But they’re now deceased. One was killed in the South African war, the other died more recently and left only daughters. My solicitor wired me this morning with confirmation of their deaths and Horatio’s position as heir presumptive.”

“Enough to make your head spin, trying to keep it all straight,” Harry muttered. “Have you ever met Horatio Trelawney?”

“According to Aunt Judith, Horatio and his family—some of them, anyway—came to my uncle’s funeral, and to Gerald’s. I haven’t much recollection of meeting them. I was still too stunned to find myself an earl.” Both funerals had been amply attended, James remembered, though he suspected that had as much to do with curiosity as with the exalted rank of the deceased. Gerald’s funeral, barely six months after his father’s, had drawn a particularly large crowd, doubtless owing to his youth and vigor at the time of his death.

“In any case,” James resumed, “it has come to my attention that Horatio and his family would benefit considerably if I were out of the way.”

Harry eyed him narrowly. “You think your heir might be behind these letters?”

“I think we have nothing to lose by investigating this possibility,” James qualified. “I’m setting out tomorrow morning. Would you care to accompany me?”

“Gladly.” Harry’s mouth tightened. “If nothing else, you might need a witness to whatever you see or hear.”

“Good thinking.” James just managed to conceal his relief. The potential rift between him and Harry had been bridged. “In truth, I’d be glad of reinforcements.”

Harry gave a brief nod. “And Robin?” His tone still held a hint of challenge. “Have I your permission to write to him?”

“You may tell him there’s an important matter requiring his attention here,” James said, after a moment. “But no more than that, if you please.”

“Very well,” Harry conceded, with visible reluctance. “I shan’t go into further details.”

“Thank you. Shall we rejoin the others now?”

***

Something wasn’t right. Aurelia could tell the moment Trevenan and Sir Harry reentered the drawing room. Both looked decidedly grim and tight-lipped even as they made an effort to conceal whatever was troubling them.

Aurelia glanced at Sophie and Amy, sitting beside her on the sofa, but the two were still deep in conversation and had not yet noticed the men’s return. Lady Tresilian and Aurelia’s mother were similarly engaged. Lady Durward, seated haughtily on an armchair a little distance apart, did notice, and her pale eyes narrowed in distaste. Uneasily, Aurelia wondered just how disagreeable the countess was going to be tonight, even with Lady Talbot to keep her in check.

Once Trevenan and Sir Harry’s appearance was observed, the formal procession in to dinner began. Aurelia found herself seated between her escort, John Tresilian, and Sir Harry, seated as guest of honor on Lady Talbot’s right. Unfortunately, the Durwards were placed almost directly opposite—a necessary evil, Aurelia supposed, since Lady Talbot needed to keep a watchful eye on her niece. For her part, she wished she was not obliged to see the woman’s sour face at such close quarters, but at least she knew there was nothing Lady Durward could say that would cow her. Besides, she was only obliged to converse with the people on either side of her; John Tresilian, who was about Andrew’s age, seemed as pleasant a fellow as his older brother.

Dinner, always good, was excellent tonight. Trevenan’s cook had made a special effort. Lobster bisque and smoked oysters wrapped in bacon gave way to delicately poached salmon with asparagus, then a green goose and a saddle of lamb. Savoring her own meal, Aurelia could not help but notice that Lady Durward consumed each mouthful as though she expected it to poison her, though she drained her wine glass several times. But her husband ate heartily enough.

“Do you find Cornwall to your liking, Miss Aurelia?” Sir Harry inquired.

Relieved, she turned her attention to him. “Oh, yes. I find more to enjoy here each day.”

He smiled. “I am pleased to hear you say that. For my part, no place on earth compares. Have you decided what you like best so far?”

“The sea,” she replied without hesitation. “I especially love taking the stairs down to the beach. Have you ever done so?”

He shook his head. “I fear not. This is the first time I have been inside Pentreath.”

“A pity it’s not the last,” Lady Durward observed, just audibly enough for her closest neighbors to hear.

Aurelia blinked, scarcely able to believe what she’d just heard. Sir Harry’s green eyes cooled, but to his credit, he ignored Lady Durward’s obvious provocation, turning again to Aurelia. “Roswarne is further from the sea than Pentreath, but we have a fine beach of our own, should you wish to visit us.”

“Best to stay at home rather than intrude where you’re not wanted.” Lady Durward again, slightly louder this time.

Sir Harry’s mouth tightened. “I could not agree with you more, madam,” he returned, his own voice edged beneath its surface courtesy. Aurelia could hardly blame him for such a response, even though it seemed as reckless as brandishing a red flag in front of a bull.

The countess’s nostrils flared. “In my father’s time, you and your family wouldn’t have been allowed past the gates of Pentreath,
Sir
Harry,” she hissed venomously.

“I daresay. But James is master of Pentreath now, and may invite whom he pleases.”

“A jumped-up country squire! And a suspected murderer to boot? What have you to say to that—
H.T
.?” Lady Durward all but flung the last words at him, her voice rising over the other conversations in the room.

A shocked hush descended over the table. Aurelia glanced wildly toward Trevenan at the other end, saw his face darken as he set down his glass. But it was Lady Talbot, breaking off her conversation with Aurelia’s father on her left, who spoke first.

“Helena!” she snapped. “Apologize at once! I will not have a guest insulted at our table!”

Both combatants ignored her, the countess’s last ugly accusation hovering on the charged air between them. Sir Harry laid down his fork and locked eyes with his adversary. “Let me be frank with you, Lady Durward,” he said evenly. “I have made no secret of my dislike for your brother in life. But considering him an arrogant bully who should have been taught a lesson long ago is not the same as wishing him dead at the bottom of a cliff. Or assisting him there.”

It happened too quickly for anyone to stop her. Only Sir Harry perhaps saw what Lady Durward intended, for he moved just one fraction to the side, so that the contents of her wine glass soaked the shoulder of his dinner coat rather than catching him full in the face.

“Helena!” Lady Talbot stood up at once, her dark eyes blazing with cold anger. “Clearly, you are unwell. I shall escort you to your chamber so that you may recover in peace.”

“No need to take you away from your dinner, ma’am.” Lord Durward surprised everyone by speaking up. “
I
shall escort my wife.”

Lady Durward glared daggers at her husband, but to Aurelia’s astonishment, the mild-mannered earl did not quail. Instead, he pushed back his chair and stood up, pointedly offering his arm to his wife. Finally, the countess rose with ill grace and accepted his proffered arm.

Aurelia could have sworn the whole dining room held its breath until the Durwards had left. She pitied the earl; no doubt his wife would give him an earful once they were upstairs.

Trevenan spoke at last. “Harry, my deepest apologies. My apologies to all of you,” he added, with a glance around the table.

Face impassive, Sir Harry nodded at his cousin and mopped at his coat with a napkin. “You are not to blame, James.”

“Certainly not,” Lady Talbot declared. “Only Helena is responsible for her lamentable lack of self-control. But let us not permit her to spoil the evening,” she added with a determined smile. “Mr. Newbold, I believe you were telling me about the horse races at Saratoga. Have you ever attended Ascot or the Derby at Epsom Downs?”

Aurelia’s father quickly followed her lead, and the lapsed conversations resumed, not pausing even when Lord Durward returned to the dining room to finish his dinner.

So, the ugliness was papered over for now, Aurelia thought. But to judge from the lingering strain she saw on Trevenan and Sir Harry’s faces, it was far from forgotten.

***

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. There was music in the drawing room, Aurelia remembered—Sophie had brought her violin—and everyone did their best to pretend the ugly incident at dinner hadn’t happened. The Tresilians left not long after, Sir Harry claiming an early rise, but Aurelia didn’t miss the quick glance he exchanged with James on his way out. Something was afoot, and, while it was none of her affair, she couldn’t help but wonder.