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Which made a huge difference.
If any other operative had died during the course of an investigation, he would have gone straight round to their dependents to make sure they were not going to suffer financially. He had access to funds to make sure of it.
‘But, as usual, men like you don’t see anything past the end of your own nose!’
With her own nose stuck in the air, Lady Elizabeth flounced off. And in this case, he could hardly blame her. He’d assumed that Miss Carmichael must have an income of her own. Assumed, without double-checking.
He’d blundered there. Possibly rather badly.
He should have gone to visit her, to make sure she was provided for, he could see that now. Only...she was of gentle birth. And a man with the reputation he’d cultivated could not simply call upon a single lady of gentle birth, not without raising eyebrows. Not even if her brother had been his closest colleague.
Though what good would it have done, really? He could easily arrange a pension for a widow of a certain sort of man. But he couldn’t just offer to support a woman of Miss Carmichael’s status. If it ever came out that he was supporting her financially, it would be as good as ruining her.
‘You will, I hope, find it in your heart to forgive my daughter’s manners,’ said the Dowager Marchioness of Tewkesbury, sidestepping along the pew until she reached the aisle. ‘This week is terribly hard for her, considering the hopes we had...’ She left the rest unsaid. The shake of her head expressed her disappointment that the Duke of Theakstone had passed over her own daughter and chosen instead to make a mere Miss his new Duchess.
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he said, giving her the smile he reserved for women of her age and station. ‘It does your daughter credit that she leaps to defend her friend with such...loyalty. And such vehemence.’
The Dowager Marchioness narrowed her eyes to see if she could detect a hint of criticism in his statement. He kept his smile in place, looking directly into her eyes with as much innocence as he could muster. Which wasn’t all that hard. Because, actually, he did admire Lady Elizabeth’s loyalty. Not many people went against the prevailing current to voice an opinion that ran counter to it. And she had drawn his attention to a facet of the case he’d overlooked. He was grateful to her for jolting him out of his own personal malaise and reminding him that there was at least one other person who missed Herbert just as much as he did. For whatever reason.
‘That is so generous of you, Devizes,’ trilled his sister Mary. ‘To overlook such extraordinary behaviour. And I do not mean,’ she said, laying a languid hand on his sleeve, ‘that of Lady Elizabeth, of course.’ She shot an arch look at the Dowager, for everyone knew about her daughter’s shrewish nature. Nick had actually been a little surprised when his half-brother had, apparently, included her on his list of possibilities. And not at all surprised when he’d as quickly crossed her off it.
‘I was speaking of that strange little companion of hers,’ Mary continued. ‘Fancy storming off like that!’
He could understand Miss Carmichael doing so, now, if she was experiencing financial hardship.
Perhaps what she had wanted to say about Herbert related to the way he’d supported her. Perhaps she was finding it hard to make ends meet.
He would ask her, when he returned her Bible to her.
As well as finding out why she had a sketch of Janus in between the pages of her Bible. Had Herbert not been as discreet as he’d claimed? Had he been so close to his sister that he’d let slip some things which should have been kept secret?
Or had she merely stumbled across the picture when she’d been going through his personal effects? He thought he’d cleared Herbert’s rooms thoroughly, but perhaps there had been some papers hidden in a place that only she knew about.
Which changed everything. He’d been determined to carry on shielding her from the people who’d killed her brother, by persuading anyone who might care to see that he had no interest in her and, therefore, no connection to her whatsoever, now that Herbert was dead.
But if Herbert had let something slip...
He had to warn her that if anyone suspected she had information, of any sort, relevant to Herbert’s work, then she would be in danger. Dammit, somebody had killed her brother rather than let him pass on whatever it was he’d discovered that last night.
And Herbert would never forgive him if Horatia became the next person on that assassin’s list.
Dammit, he wouldn’t forgive himself.
Chapter Three
Horatia was a few yards beyond the paved area surrounding the chapel, which contained monuments to generations of deceased Norringtons, the family from which the current Duke had sprung, when she became aware of rapid footsteps crunching over the gravel behind her.
She’d been walking so fast, driven by a volatile mixture of anger, humiliation and determination to just show them—whoever ‘them’ might be—that the person she could hear must be determined to catch up with her.
She braced herself to deal with whatever accusations or recriminations she might have to face. And sighed with relief, after glancing over her shoulder, to see that it was Lady Elizabeth who was drawing up behind her.
‘Well,’ said Lady Elizabeth, slowing down to match her pace to Horatia’s, ‘you certainly know how to make an exit.’
Since Horatia could hear a distinct thread of amusement in her friend’s tone, she knew she hadn’t mortally offended her. Still, she owed her friend an apology. ‘I’m so sorry for my...outburst,’ she said. ‘I swore that I would give you what little support I could in the days surrounding the Duke’s wedding. Instead, I’ve just given your mother even more reason to berate you.’
‘At least if she is complaining about your behaviour, she isn’t complaining about mine,’ pointed out Lady Elizabeth with a wry smile.
‘As if you made the Duke fall for Miss Underwood,’ scoffed Horatia. ‘It is obvious to anyone who sees them together that they have eyes for nobody else,’ she added, jerking her head in the direction of the couple who were strolling along arm in arm along another gravelled path which led in the direction of the house. Making Horatia aware she had not taken the most direct route.
‘Ah, but,’ said Lady Elizabeth, aping her mother’s frosty tones, ‘if I had only exerted myself more, I could have eclipsed her.’
Horatia made a very unladylike noise, expressed partially through her nose, to demonstrate what she thought of that particular argument.
‘You cannot make a man fall for you, or even notice you, unless he chooses to do so,’ said Horatia morosely, coming to a standstill. Could she strike out across the lawn and join the path along which the Duke and his intended were walking? Or would that draw even more attention to herself and the fact that she’d shot out of the chapel in such a state of turmoil that she hadn’t even been able to steer her feet in the correct direction?
‘I...had wondered about your, um, fascination with Lord Devizes,’ said Lady Elizabeth, coming to a halt as well. ‘I did not like to say anything, but...’
‘You cannot think that I have a tendre for him?’ Horatia gaped at her. ‘Or that, if I did, I would fling myself at him, like one of the muslin company?’
‘No. Neither,’ said Lady Elizabeth staunchly. ‘Which is what makes your...’ She lowered her head and traced a swirl through the gravel with the tip of her parasol. ‘No, no, I shall not pry. I have enough of people telling me how to live my life to know how detestable that is. Only...’ She paused as if choosing her words with care. ‘I am a little worried. You seem...’
Horatia turned her head away from Lady Elizabeth and studied instead the direction of the path they were on. After a bit there was a fork to the left which would lead back to the house, rather than on to the formal gardens. Which solved her most immediate problem. However, she still wasn’t sure she could confide in Lady Elizabeth about her motives for coming here. Although they called each other friend, they’d only fallen into each other’s company after catching each other rolling their eyes at a particularly fatuous comment made by an extremely pompous Member of Parliament who’d been invited to speak at The Ladies Society for the Advancement of Scientific Knowledge. They’d gravitated to each other over the teacups, then started looking out for each other at various other meetings they both attended. It had only been after Herbert’s death that Lady Elizabeth had started visiting her house and offering what comfort she could. But since Aunt Matilda had always refused to let Horatia’s visitors drive her from her own sitting room, she’d never had an opportunity to tell Lady Elizabeth that she was practically certain that her brother had been deliberately murdered, rather than being the victim of a robbery.
Perhaps it was time she did. She certainly owed her some sort of explanation for the tantrum she’d thrown just now. And since nobody else was taking this path she could speak freely without being overheard.
‘Herbert was murdered,’ said Horatia, setting off once more along their path.
‘Yes, I know,’ said Lady Elizabeth, setting out beside her. ‘And I know how it shocked you. As indeed it shocked everyone who knew him. It is an awful thing that a man may not walk home from...even from the kind of place to which...that is...’
‘He had been to a gaming hell, you mean,’ said Horatia. Which was, possibly, true. But he hadn’t been killed during the course of a robbery. She just knew it. ‘And, yes, he was in one of the poorer parts of London. But it wasn’t—’ she stopped short of saying that it had been no accident. Herbert had been so insistent that nobody knew about her involvement in his work. That it might put her in danger. So...if she told Lady Elizabeth, might it put her in danger, too? ‘That doesn’t mean he deserved to die,’ she finished, lamely, ‘does it?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Well, then,’ she continued, focusing on one of her views which was perfectly safe to air, ‘don’t you think that somebody should be trying to find out who killed him? But nobody is! They came and stood in my aunt’s sitting room and droned on about the deplorable dangers of the streets of London at night and said there was nothing anyone could do, that if gentlemen frequented such areas these things happened, that—’ She broke off, as the resentment at the way those men had spoken to her, as though she was an idiot, swelled up all over again.
‘And you thought that Lord Devizes might be able to...what, exactly? It isn’t as if a man like him,’ Lady Elizabeth said with a hint of derision, ‘would stir himself to go looking for criminals, is it?’
Oh, if only she knew! From what Herbert had told her, Lord Devizes had already unmasked a couple of plots against the government and brought several criminals to justice. Because of his rank, and his well-known propensity for pursuing unsavoury pastimes, he could move with ease anywhere from the highest ton parties to the lowest gaming hells without anyone raising an eyebrow. What was more, in society, people regarded him as, well, the way Lady Elizabeth did. As an idle, wealthy, wastrel. They didn’t see the more serious side of his nature, because he kept it so well hidden behind a sort of mask. To look at the amused, indolent expression he generally adopted, nobody could possibly guess what he was really thinking. Or even suspect he was thinking very much at all.
Which was the way he wanted it.
She glanced across the triangular section of lawn to the path which all the other members of the congregation were strolling along. Where he was strolling, with a lady on each arm. And smiling, as though he had not a care in the world. Even though the traitors he and Herbert had been trying to find, the ones responsible for Herbert’s murder, could well be close by.
His assailant definitely came from the ton. Or had connections to someone who had access to state secrets, such as the Duke of Theakstone.
So...perhaps that was why he was playing at not having a thought in his head beyond the formation of the next witty remark. He had to make sure nobody suspected him of being capable of doing anything as strenuous as tackling a traitor and murderer.
Which, therefore, meant she must not do anything likely to expose the serious nature of his secret work either. Including confiding in Lady Elizabeth.
‘He was Herbert’s closest friend,’ she said, dragging her gaze away from Lord Devizes and fixing it on her feet. ‘I thought he might at least have been prepared to listen.’
‘Some people,’ said Lady Elizabeth tartly, after they’d walked in sombre silence for a few paces, ‘prefer not to hear anything unpleasant, though, don’t they? They would rather avoid somebody who is in difficulty altogether than have to talk about things that might make them uncomfortable.’
Horatia flinched at the reminder she was not the only person to have gone through a very difficult time of late and saw that this girl’s own troubles were probably what had made her capable of showing such sympathy when Horatia lost her brother. ‘Yes, you know how...unkind people can be, don’t you? People you thought were your friends?’
‘Yes. But you never really know who your true friends are until trouble comes, do you? Before Papa died, I was the toast of the ton. I was invited everywhere. And then...poof! They all vanished like...like...well...’ she gave a bitter laugh ‘like our fortune. Only a very few people treated me no differently after his...disgrace. Which is why I...’ She tucked her arm through Horatia’s and gave it a brief squeeze. ‘Well, I don’t suppose I need to remind you that I consider you one of my closest friends. No matter what Mama says.’
‘As I consider you to be mine,’ said Horatia, swallowing down a lump of guilt. For although she was swearing friendship, she was holding back all sorts of things from her. And not only about the nature of Herbert’s work and the circumstances surrounding his death. And it was all very well saying she didn’t want to put Lady Elizabeth in danger, but it was more than that. She didn’t really know if she could trust her.
‘I was so angry with Lord Devizes and with Mama,’ Lady Elizabeth said ruefully, ‘for the way they talked about you just now that I rather lost my temper with them both after you’d gone.’
‘I do wish I was not adding to the bad feeling which already exists between you and your parent,’ said Horatia, feeling guiltier than ever. ‘Particularly since so much of what she says about me is nothing but the truth. I am not well born. So I am not really a fit person to be your friend, not if you wish to maintain a fashionable appearance.’
‘But I don’t! Wish to maintain a fashionable appearance, that is. You above all people should know that.’
‘Yes, I must admit that is the one aspect of having to go into mourning I can embrace. It is such a relief not to have to try to work out what colours match with which others. Having to have everything black removes most of the difficulty out of choosing what to wear in the mornings. And during the rest of the day, too.’
‘No.’ Lady Elizabeth clapped one hand to her mouth. ‘I didn’t mean to imply you are unfashionable, in that sense...’
‘Nevertheless, it is true. I have never been able to comprehend how it is that in nature there can be brown trees,’ she said, pointing with her free arm in the direction of the woodland on a nearby hill, ‘and green grass dotted with lots of different coloured flowers—’ she indicated the vibrant blooms tumbling from containers standing on the steps leading up to the terrace spanning the length of the house ‘—capped by a brilliant blue sky and it all looks charming. But put the same combination of colours and patterns next to my little body and...’ She shrugged and grimaced.
‘When you are out of mourning, I shall take you shopping. I am sure—’
‘No, please do not bother. Herbert did try to supervise my wardrobe when I first made my come-out. For he always looked so elegant, you know, that he was sure he could bring me into style.’ That was probably one of the reasons he and the Marquess had hit it off to start with. Both of them were beautiful, fashionable young men with a taste for mischief.
‘What happened, then?’
‘Well, do you know, he made the offer while we were at the theatre, just after one of his fashionable friends had turned his arrogant nose up at me for...well, I suppose I had been a touch rude, but then he was such an idiot. Anyway, there happened to be one of those acrobats upon the stage who could wrap her legs around the back of her head. And I felt as if he was urging me to become like her. You know, tying myself into a knot in order to fit in with society’s expectations.’
‘Now that,’ said Lady Elizabeth vehemently, ‘is something I completely understand. The way people expect you to make yourself something you are not in order to gain acceptance.’
‘Particularly men looking out for a bride. None of them wants to know what you are truly like. They just want you to become whatever it is that they want. If you express an opinion that is different to their own, they call you a bluestocking. And if you actually dare to inform a man that his own opinion is based upon a fallacy, then he will say you are a gorgon.’
‘Or a shrew,’ said Lady Elizabeth, pursing her lips. ‘It is only because of my rank that anyone still invites me anywhere.’
‘At least I don’t have to go anywhere I do not wish to any longer,’ Horatia said with satisfaction. ‘Not since Aunt Matilda has given up trying to marry me off respectably.’ Deciding she wasn’t going to tie herself in knots had been the first step along a course that had led, by progressive stages, to her obtaining relative freedom. ‘Nowadays I only ever attend events where I am sure of mingling with like-minded people.’
‘Apart from this wedding. Which I thought,’ said Lady Elizabeth shrewdly, ‘you had agreed to attend more as a favour to me, since you knew how difficult I was bound to find it. Instead...’
‘Ah. Yes. I have to admit, it was not my only motive...’
They reached the fork that would lead straight back to the house. As they turned on to it, Horatia couldn’t help gazing along the immense length of the ornately decorated façade. It made her wonder why the Duke’s ancestors hadn’t called this place Theakstone Palace, rather than Theakstone Court. Its size alone surely qualified it for the title.
‘At least it has meant we can share a suite of rooms, rather than me being left to the mercy of my mother. Last time we were here, as I’m sure you know, we had rooms in the main part of the house,’ said Lady Elizabeth, pointing to the central block, which was about the size of an average cathedral, ‘rather than one of the guest wings,’ she finished with a distinct note of disdain.
Horatia chewed on her lower lip for a moment or two. The suite of rooms she was sharing with Lady Elizabeth seemed very grand compared with what she was used to. But it sounded as if their only virtue in Lady Elizabeth’s eyes was the fact they afforded some sanctuary from her mother.
‘Are you really upset about that?’ Horatia said tentatively.
‘The Duke choosing somebody else, you mean?’
She hadn’t, not exactly, but rather than explain, Horatia took another tack. ‘I know it would have solved a lot of your troubles...’
‘What? Marry that man?’ Lady Elizabeth tossed her head. ‘I would have gone through with it only out of duty to my family. He may be rich, but he is so...’ She shuddered. ‘One would never believe he is related to the Marquess of Devizes, not unless one knew it for an absolute fact. What with one being so dark and satanic, and the other being so fair and charming...’
‘Well, appearing fair and charming can also be an attribute of a satanic creature, according to the Bible,’ Horatia couldn’t help commenting. ‘Such beings are even called angels of light. They set out to deceive people with their charm, don’t they? At least you know where you are with the Duke.’
‘Yes,’ said Lady Elizabeth tartly, as they began to mount the steps to the terrace that ran the length of this side of the house. ‘No longer fit to be housed in the main part of his palace.’
‘Surely that is a good thing. Since it means you are not sharing rooms with your mother.’
‘Touché,’ cried Lady Elizabeth with appreciation. ‘And thank you for reminding me that I ought to be grateful she thinks more of her consequence than she does of keeping a close watch upon me.’
‘What? But she...’
‘You think pouncing upon me whenever I put one toe out of the door is keeping a close watch upon me? You have no idea. Oh. I am sorry.’ Lady Elizabeth looked stricken. ‘Of course you have no idea...’
‘Lady Elizabeth, I scarcely remember my own mother, so if you are about to apologise for being insensitive about my orphaned state, then please, I beg of you, do not.’
‘And I suppose witnessing the relationship I have with my own mother is not likely to make you pine for one of your own, is it? Lord, how I wish that I...’ She pulled herself up short. ‘It is just,’ she said, lowering her voice as they drew closer to the group of people waiting their turn to enter the house through a set of French doors, ‘that if I was an orphan, with no title, nobody would mind if I fell in love with a man with nothing to recommend him but his brains. There is nobody to prevent you from following your heart.’
Something inside Horatia twisted at the mention of following her heart. ‘You are forgetting,’ she said, ‘that even men with brains are governed very much by what they see. They don’t fall in love with awkward little dabs of women with no fashion sense.’ Which meant there was no point, absolutely no point, in hoping such a thing might happen. ‘They fall in love with pretty, witty, blondes,’ she finished, giving her friend a pointed look.
‘It is useless anyway.’ Lady Elizabeth sighed, halting a short distance away from the rest of the churchgoers. ‘Theakstone arranged for Mr Brown to go to Leipzig. And while it is of great advantage to his career, he might just as well have flown to the moon. We will never see each other again, and...’ She stopped on a hiccup that sounded suspiciously like a choked sob. ‘Mama will get her way, I dare say. I shall have to marry someone with money and the standing to overcome the disgrace Papa brought to our family.’
‘I’m surprised she isn’t pushing you at the Marquess, then.’
‘Lord, no. He has the money, but apparently even Mama knows it would be a waste of time attempting to snare such a one. Too slippery to be caught in the parson’s mousetrap. Too busy enjoying himself with the ladies who flock round him and no pressing need to sire an heir. No, she is hoping to match me up with somebody older. With more substance about him. A widower, perhaps, with only daughters.’ She shuddered.
Not for the first time, Horatia thanked her lucky stars she was a mere Miss. Nobody expected her to marry to save the family fortunes. There never had been any fortune to lose in the first place. Herbert had had a small income, which he’d supplemented by doing nominal work at a post gained for him through the influence of a distant uncle.
Until that day he’d come to her with the tale of how he and Lord Devizes had found a brilliant way to earn a little extra. And to serve their country at the same time. Someone, he’d said, tapping his nose to indicate that person’s identity must remain secret, was going to pay any expenses incurred while they rooted out traitors to the Crown. To that end, they’d each chosen their own code names, to keep their own identities secret from anyone who didn’t need to know they were involved in such work. Lord Devizes was to become Janus, because he would present one face to society, and another to the criminal underworld, while Herbert was to be known as Portunus, after the Roman god of keys and doors. When Horatia had frowned in bewilderment, he’d burst out laughing.