Chapter Fifteen
With increasing disquiet, Strathairn observed Sibella hurrying from the ballroom followed by Maria. She was troubled, he could tell by the way she held her head. What had that blighter said to her? He gazed after her, distracted, and George Leadbetter, forced to repeat an amusing anecdote twice, demanded what ailed him.
When she returned to the ballroom, Sibella danced again with Coombe while her shoulders drooped. They barely spoke and said little to each other. A tiff? These things happened of course. When the dance ended, Sibella left Coombe’s side to talk to Georgina.
Strathairn excused himself and wandered in that direction. On reaching them, he paused to exchange pleasantries.
“I do hope you’ll dance tonight, John,” his sister said. “There are ladies lacking partners. It is your duty after all. Lady Sibella will wish to dance with only one man tonight. Is that not so?”
“Indeed. I do hope you’re both enjoying the evening,” Sibella said with a faint smile.
“I trust you are, too,” Strathairn said.
Sibella paled and fiddled with a bracelet. “But of course. You must excuse me. I believe Lord Coombe has the country dance in mind.”
She hurried away.
“Why, what’s afoot here, John?” Georgina demanded. “Lady Sibella seemed uncomfortable in your company.”
“Nonsense, my dear. Where is Broadstairs?”
Georgina lifted her eyebrows and gestured with her fan to a group nearby. “My husband is not far away.”
“He is never far from your side. He remains madly in love, I see.”
Georgina jutted her chin. “As I intend he always shall be, but don’t think your attempt to distract me has gone unnoticed.”
He cocked an amused eyebrow as a group of her friends joined them. When he was able to excuse himself, he searched for Sibella among the couples advancing onto the dance floor, not being able to shrug off his concern. She was nowhere to be seen.
He turned to find Coombe beside him.
Coombe bowed. “I wonder if we might talk, Strathairn. On the terrace?”
The rain had eased, but pools of water spread across the stone paving, and the air was still heavy with moisture. Avoiding a puddle, he faced the scowling Coombe with distaste and gestured at the fine mist curling through the trees, dampening their clothes. “What is so urgent that it must be said in these uncomfortable circumstances?”
“I do not wish what I’m about to say to be overheard.”
“What might that be?”
“I’ve seen the way you look at my fiancée. I know how thick you two were before Lady Sibella and I became engaged. And you still show an objectionable interest in her.”
“In what way?”
“Your admiring glances.”
“My dear fellow, half the men still old enough to care admire her. She’s a remarkably attractive woman. You are a lucky fellow.”
“I insist that you’re never seen in her company.”
“Impossible. The Brandreth’s are friends of mine.” No doubt, the man was jealous, but he wondered what provoked it. He was sure he would have learned nothing from Sibella.
“Friendship between a man and a woman of your age and circumstances is impossible without resulting in gossip. I refuse to have any such scandal attached to me.”
Strathairn took a step closer fighting the temptation to punch the man in his arrogant face. “Attached to you, Coombe? I would have thought it was Lady Sibella’s reputation you would be concerned about,” he said with contempt.
“What affects me affects Lady Sibella and our future life together,” he said stiffly.
The fellow was jealous. Well, he was familiar with that emotion. “There is no reason for gossip, Coombe. And I can assure you, I have nothing scandalous in mind,” he said mildly.
“See that you don’t.”
Really, this was too much; the man was overbearing and rude. “Is that a threat? If I should offend you in some way, you’ll challenge me to a duel?”
“I would not duel with you, Strathairn. That would be to your advantage. There are more subtle ways of dealing with such as you.”
“And what would they be?” Strathairn studied the tight face of the man before him, as his concern for Sibella grew. He stared at him in disgust. “Don’t threaten me, Coombe. That would certainly not be to your advantage.”
Coombe narrowed his eyes. “I suggest you do not risk finding out.”
“And I suggest you take very good care of Lady Sibella, who is a thousand times worthier than a mean-spirited individual like you,” he said, as rancor sharpened his voice. “If you hurt her, you will feel my sword pinking your belly. I promise you.”
Coombe’s laugh was cynical, and his brown eyes burned with loathing. “An idle threat, my lord?”
“I never make idle threats, Coombe.”
Coombe swiveled and strode back into the ballroom.
Strathairn strolled behind him with a desire to examine Coombe’s innards splayed across the terrace. He had become interested in Lord Coombe. Very interested indeed.
*
Strathairn, not wishing to cause Sibella further distress, avoided approaching her again. He asked a young debutante to dance and spent the next twenty minutes attempting to put her at ease as she moved stiffly in his arms.
After the last dance ended, the musicians packed up and left the podium. Everyone began to say their goodbyes and moved toward the front door.
Strathairn was seeking his host and hostess when Guy approached him.
“I meant to mention that Mr. Eacock, the man you stationed in my street, reported seeing a woman outside my house,” Guy said. “Probably nothing. She was dropped at the end of the street and on several occasions walked up and down before returning to her carriage.”
“Did he describe her?”
“A dark-haired attractive lady stylishly dressed in a midnight blue cloak, so he said. She pulled the hood over her head as she approached my house. Eacock questioned her, and she said she was looking to buy a house in the area, and particularly admired mine. After I learned of it, I watched out for her, but she didn’t come back again.”
“Sounds innocent enough,” Strathairn said.
“It does. She was French.”
“French?” Strathairn didn’t like it. “What are your plans?”
“The baby is with Hetty’s aunt tonight with Eacock posted outside. I’m removing them to Rosecroft Hall tomorrow.”
“A wise move. Hetty agrees?”
Guy’s blue eyes grew steely. “For the baby’s sake. An invitation arrived this morning for Lord Harrington and Lady Maria’s wedding at St. Paul’s which has set the cat among the pigeons. Naturally, Hetty is bitterly disappointed to miss it. We haven’t announced it, but we are expecting our second child.”
“That’s wonderful news.” He slapped Guy on the back. “Congratulations! But of course she would be disappointed. Poor Hetty.”
“Still, it’s very difficult for anyone to get into Rosecroft Hall past my butler and burley footmen,” Guy said. “And no doubt you’ll sort things out quickly.”
He wished he shared Guy’s confidence. “I’ll miss you at my side.”
“Zut! I hate not being in the thick of things. You must spare a few days with us at the hall when next you can.”
“Not for some time, I’m afraid.” The people ahead left the Brandreths and continued out the door. “I must say my farewells. I see Hetty converses with Lady Brookwood. Please convey to your lady wife how sorry I am to lose her bright presence from the social scene.”
“I doubt I shall, Strathairn.” He winked with good humor. “It will only add fuel to an already blazing fire.”
Strathairn couldn’t help but grin as he approached the Brandreth’s. Chaloner looked mighty pleased with himself, the dowager fatigued, while Sibella beside her, laughed with what he suspected was false gaiety at something Edward said. Coombe glared at him.
He entered the square still troubled. Sibella had refused to look at him when he said his goodbyes. He hated to see her like this. She was ordinarily so bright and spirited. Whatever Coombe had said still upset her. Not a mere tiff then, but something far more troubling. He buttoned his coat while he tamped down the desire to question her more thoroughly about Coombe.
He gazed out the window of the carriage at the dark streets. Coombe had some business in the West Indies. He would make inquiries as to what it entailed, but surely Chaloner would have thoroughly investigated the man before he consented to the marriage.
When he alighted in Grosvenor Square, a man emerged from the shadows. “Lord Strathairn?”
“Billings, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my lord. I bring unwelcome news. Irvine has been wounded.”
Strathairn cursed. “How bad is he?”
“I don’t know, my lord, but he lives.”
“Take me to him.”
Billing’s explained what little he knew as the carriage raced full tilt through the dark streets. “It was while Irvine shadowed Countess Forney. Someone shot him.”
Irvine remained unconscious in the surgeon’s house in East London. Strathairn spoke to the grim-faced doctor who was cleaning his instruments in the next room. “How bad is he?”
“Not good. The injuries to his leg and arm are not life threatening if we can keep the infection down, but I’m afraid one shot damaged his liver. He lost a lot of blood on his way here.”
“Take good care of him. Can he remain here until he’s well enough to be moved? You’ll be well paid.”
“Certainly. If he survives. It’s up to the good Lord now.”
“Can I take a look at what you dug out of him?”
Dr. Pinkerton held out the bowl, and Strathairn picked a ball out, turning it in his hands. His scalp prickled as he wiped the ball of metal in his handkerchief, then shoved it in his pocket.
Driving past his club in Pall Mall, he was tempted to order the carriage to stop. He had more than one good reason to drown his sorrows. Instead, he removed the ball from his pocket and reexamined it as the carriage continued through Mayfair. In a few hours, it would be morning. He’d send a message to Parnham to alert the home secretary. This investigation was not over.
Strathairn prayed Irvine would be alive the next day. He decided to stay awake seeing it was close to dawn. A few hours’ sleep always made him feel worse than none at all.
In the library, he took the tinder box from the mantel and lit the fire, then settled in the wing chair as his thoughts turned again to Sibella. He must pen a few letters to probe Lord Coombe’s business dealings. And time grew short.
*
Sibella glanced up as her mother entered her shadowy chamber. “No maid, Sibella? I will dismiss that lazy girl without a reference.”
The air was smoky; the candles in the candelabra guttering, the fire reduced to a glow of embers. Slowly undressing, her limbs heavy with lassitude, she yawned and stretched, in no mood to argue. “I’d prefer you didn’t. Sarah is an excellent lady’s maid. I sent her to bed. It’s almost dawn. I expected you to have retired by now.”
“I’ll sleep well past noon. I wanted a word.”
“Oh?” Sibella laid her delicate gown carefully over a chair for Sarah to deal with in the morning.
“You looked beautiful tonight. Everyone said so.”
“Thank you, Mama.” Sibella pulled off her petticoat. Where was this leading? The urge to compliment her wouldn’t ordinarily keep her mother from her bed. Such things would surely wait until daylight.
Her mother moved the dress aside and sat on the chair. “Of all my daughters, you are most like me.”
“In nature?” Sibella rolled down a stocking. She doubted she would ever be as outspoken.
“No, Cordelia is like me in nature when she concentrates on anything other than her music. Sweet Aida takes after your grandmother. You inherited my figure and my cheekbones. I’m annoyed so many seasons have passed without you marrying and marrying well. We both know why Chaloner and I have pushed you toward this marriage with Coombe. You’ve been allowed far too much latitude in the choice of your life partner.”
My, what had caused her mother to have such a bee in her bonnet? This was going over old ground, surely. Too tired and dispirited to discuss it, she pulled her lawn nightgown over her hips. “Maria is the beauty of the family.”
“Maria looks just like my sister, Fenella. But you are like me.”
Sibella faced her, curious where this was heading. “Oh, Mama, both you and Aunt Fenella took London by storm in your first season. I had only moderate success, and that was some time ago.”
“Fenella and I were quite the rage for a time.” Her mother’s eyes grew thoughtful. “A heady time indeed.” Her gaze cleared and focused on Sibella. “One must enjoy every moment of one’s youth. It is fleeting.”
“I am trying to.” Sibella bit her lip to stop from protesting that if she’d loved her fiancé she would be happy indeed.
“I’m aware you don’t love Coombe,” her mother said as if reading her mind, “but what became obvious to me tonight is that you don’t like him.”
She was surprised, not by her mother’s acuity, but that she should broach this now. She opened her mouth to tell her what had happened between her and Coombe but shut it at the sight of her worried parent. She hadn’t noticed before that her mother grew older and had lost some of her strength and verve. Should she agree and send her parent off to bed deeply anxious? Her mother would take her side against Chaloner, who would consider her reasons ridiculous. She hated the idea of them arguing over her. She had made her plan and would solve this herself.
“Perhaps I pushed Coombe a little too far tonight. I am trying to understand him. He’s not one to reveal his emotions.”
“Some men can’t.” Did a little relief show in her mother’s eyes? In most things, she was a pillar of strength and a font of wisdom, but it was too much to ask it of her now. “We can’t always expect fulsome praise and showy acts of devotion. It doesn’t mean they don’t love us or care.”
Sibella felt a pang of sorrow. For all her protestations, was her mother’s marriage less than perfect? Her father had been a busy man not often in their company.
“I’ll try to be patient with him.” Sibella pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek.
“Good.” Her mother pursed her lips. “You still have time, Sibella, to learn more about Coombe before you are wed.”
Sibella stared thoughtfully at the door as it closed behind her parent. Her mother just offered her support if she found marriage to Coombe impossible. It was impossible! With a sigh, she placed all her hopes on her trip to Arrowtree Manor.
If only John would help her, but she could hardly ask him again. She hugged to herself all that was left of her shredded pride. Any feelings they had for each other lay in the past. She had to be careful though. Coombe observed her so closely she feared she would give herself away.