Rules for Being a Mistress (37 page)

“I doubt it, my good man, but lead the way.”

The drawing-room was so large that it took him a moment to find its occupants. His maternal grandmother was seated beneath the tall windows in a gilded French armchair, tiny and frail-looking in her widow’s weeds. Her lavender hair was dressed in a simple pompadour. Her small, heart-shaped face still bore traces of what must have been in her youth a remarkable beauty. Her eyes were clear and gray, rather like Benedict’s own. Two young females, presumably Ulick Redmund’s daughters, sat near the marchioness. Like their grandmother, they too were dressed in high-necked mourning gowns. The younger had Ulick’s dark red hair, while the elder was a black-haired, blue-eyed beauty of perhaps eighteen. Behind the ladies, holding a cup and saucer of translucent Belleek, was a chinless young man, also dressed in black.

Benedict went down the length of the room and bowed. Lady Oranmore silently stretched out her hand to him, and he kissed its cold papery back dutifully. “Grandmother.”

He withdrew to find two more feminine hands outstretched to him. “Cousin Glorvina, Cousin Nuala,” he said, making nice. The younger girl looked terrified, while the elder had an odious self-assurance that reminded him, unpleasantly, of Miss Vaughn.

“Gerald was just leaving,” said Lady Oranmore.

The chinless young man reddened, but turned in his cup like a good boy. “Glorvina?”

His wife looked at him calmly. “Yes, Gerald?”

“Are you coming with me?” he asked impatiently.

Lady Glorvina Redmund had eyes only for her English cousin. “But you are only going to your club, Gerald,” she said sweetly, “where you will drink too much, and tell dirty stories to your drunken friends. I’m much better off staying here. Do please sit down, my lord,” she said, smiling at Benedict with great tenderness and respect. “Phelan!” she called to the servant. “Take Mr. Napier’s dirty cup away.” She already had a fresh cup in hand. “Milk and sugar, my lord?”

Her husband stalked out of the room without another word.

“Thank heavens he is gone,” cried Lady Oranmore when the footman had closed the double doors. “He is
such
a beast. You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he is cruel and violent. We’ve been living in the most dreadful fear of him since your grandfather died. I’m so glad you’re here, my lord. I would have sent for you at once, but Gerald prevented us. He was
so
hoping that poor Glorvina would conceive and bear a son before you found out that you had come into the title.”

“There is not the least chance of that,” Glorvina hastened to assure Lord Oranmore. “I hope you do not think that
I
would ever be part of a scheme to cut you out of your inheritance? It was all Gerald’s idea, and, as his wife, I am bound to obey him, or there is no telling what he will do to me when we are alone.” Her beautiful dark blue eyes filled with tears. “It has been the most beastly four months of my life! I thank God you have come to free us from his tyranny.”

Benedict felt ashamed of himself. Based on Kellynch’s version of events, and that version alone, he had formed the idea that his grandmother was a formidable old harridan bent on wreaking an unnatural vengeance upon her only daughter’s son. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Lady Oranmore and her granddaughters were innocent victims being held prisoner by an unscrupulous man who was beastly to his beautiful young wife.

“I am here now,” he said. “I will look after you all.”

Glorvina smiled. Nuala, who had not yet dared to speak, stared at him round-eyed.

“I was never frightened for myself,” said Lady Oranmore. “What could he do to an old woman, after all? My concern was only for you, my lord. Gerald would do anything to cut you out.
Anything.
My dear boy, you are in grave danger. I trust you are not traveling alone?”

Her light gray eyes widened in grandmotherly concern.

“My manservant, Pickering, is with me,” he assured her. “He will be here soon. I thank you for your concern, Grandmother, but I seriously doubt that Mr. Napier has any serious plan to harm me. After all, he would gain nothing by it. The title and the fortune would simply pass to my cousin Mr. Power.” He smiled. “Indeed, if I have anything to fear, it is William Power. And five hundred thousand pounds is a considerable temptation.”

Lady Oranmore gasped. “Who told you that?” she said, choking.

“Oh, didn’t you know? The Duke of Kellynch told me. I happened to meet him at Holyhead. We made the crossing together.”

“What’s
he
doing back in Dublin?” Glorvina demanded.

“He’s sold his house here and has come to move his mother out.”

Lady Oranmore snorted. “Wild horses couldn’t drag Maud Kellynch out of that house!”

“Well, perhaps she can be persuaded to assume residency of Castle Argent now that Miss Vaughn has agreed to sell it.”

The three Redmund ladies stared at him in disbelief. Lady Oranmore spoke first. “Cosy Vaughn has sold Castle Argent?
Cosy Vaughn
?”

“Oh, you’ve heard of her,” said Benedict, with a derisive sniff. “From what I can gather, she’s hoping to be married soon.”

Glorvina’s cheeks were red. “Indeed!” she said shrilly. “And who’d marry with trash like that? She’s no virgin, you know!” She gave a soft cry of sympathy as, startled by the V-word, Benedict spilled his tea over his hand.

“You’ve burned yourself, my lord!” Glorvina cried, fluttering over to him like a beautiful black butterfly.

“It’s nothing.” Handing his tea to her, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop up the spill.

Glorvina drew back as though scalded. “C.V.!” she cried, spying the monogram on the handkerchief. “Whose initials are those?”

Benedict was embarrassed. “They are not initials,” he said, thinking quickly. “All my handkerchiefs are numbered in Roman numerals. This is number one hundred and five.”

“I see.” Glorvina smiled prettily and returned to her seat. “More tea, my lord?”

“No, thank you, Glorvina.”

There was a short silence, broken by Lady Oranmore. “May I ask what your plans are? You’ll stay here, of course. I will have your grandfather’s compartment prepared for you. I would like to introduce you to Dublin society, such as it is, before you marry Nuala. Have I your permission to send out the invitations?”

Benedict paused in the act of folding his handkerchief. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I would like to introduce you to my friends,” said Lady Oranmore.

“No; after that.”

Lady Oranmore had to think. “May I send out invitations?”

“No; before that. Something about marrying Nuala?”

Lady Nuala Redmund looked from her grandmother to her sister in terror.

“Of course, if you’d rather marry
me,
” said Glorvina, patting her sleek black hair, “a divorce will not be a problem. Gerald, for all his brutality, has been an utter failure as a husband. I am
virgo intacta,
my lord. You can have a doctor’s certificate, if you like.”

Benedict jumped up from his chair. “I’m afraid that will not be possible, ladies,” he said quickly, setting down his cup. “I’m engaged to be married already to someone else.”

“Break it!” Lady Oranmore said instantly. “These are your cousin’s daughters, sir! If Ulick were alive,
he
would be Lord Oranmore and not you. Marrying Nuala is the least you can do. The very least.”

“I am aware of that, Grandmother,” Benedict said. “Naturally, I am prepared to be generous with the girls. But I can not marry Nuala—or Glorvina, for that matter. I must keep my word to my betrothed.” He went on before he could be interrupted. “As for my staying in this house, I shall be perfectly comfortable in a hotel when I return to Dublin. Believe me, I mean to intrude upon your lives as little as possible.”

Lady Oranmore looked at him sharply. “When you return to Dublin?” she echoed. “You mean, you are not staying? Are you returning to England?”

“I must,” he answered. “But, first, I have some business outside of Dublin.”

His grandmother frowned. “Outside of Dublin? What sort of business?”

Benedict decided it would be silly not to tell the ladies where he was going. Foolish, too, for if Gerald Napier or William Power really did have designs on his life, it would be to his advantage if his family knew exactly where he was going and by what method he intended to get there. “My business is at Castle Argent, as a matter of fact.”

“How extraordinary,” said Glorvina, wide-eyed. “We were just talking about the place.”

“Yes,” he said. “When Miss Vaughn heard that I was going to Ireland, she asked me to fetch her harp.”

Glorvina smiled down at her beautiful white hands.

“Her harp? How nice,” sniffed Lady Oranmore.

Nuala reached for another piece of cake and got her plump fingers slapped.

“I should probably go now,” said Benedict, who could see that his twenty minutes were up. “I was told the best way to go would be to take the Grand Canal to Ballyvaughn. Would you be so kind as to direct me to the terminus?”

“The Canal!” Lady Oranmore exclaimed in horror. “You’d never make it there alive! Those barges capsize every chance they get, and I’m not surprised, for they let too many people on. Let Thady take you in the carriage, my lord. You’ll be much more comfortable.”

Benedict was not in the least surprised to learn that Miss Vaughn had suggested a method of travel most likely to result in his death. Still, he hesitated to deprive his grandmother of her carriage. He offered to hire a hack, but her ladyship insisted. “Thady knows the way like the back of his hand, and he will keep you safe. The biggest regret of my life was not healing the breach with Angela before she died,” Lady Oranmore went on, dabbing her eyes with her black silk handkerchief. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, my only grandson. Do it for me, dear boy. I shall not sleep a wink until you are with me again.”

“Thank you, Grandmother,” he said, truly moved by his grandmother’s tears. “I will be back by tomorrow evening, I hope.”

As he took his leave, the ladies again extended their hands, and again he kissed them.

“Good-bye,” said Nuala, speaking for the first time.

Hearse-like, her ladyship’s black coach was drawn by two horses so sleek and black that Benedict wondered if they might have been dyed as a tribute to his dead grandfather. Black ostrich plumes nodded on their foreheads. Small and bandy-legged, Thady Lanyon also appeared to have been dipped in a vat of black dye. His frieze coat was black, his black hat was trimmed with a black cockade, and his shaggy black brows seemed almost to meet up with his shaggy black whiskers and beard, leaving just enough room for his big nostrils and tiny coal-black eyes.

Even the Oranmore coat of arms had been obscured on the coach door by a panel of black crepe. As Benedict climbed inside, he almost expected the upholstery within to have been dyed black as well. However, the seats were done up in a pale gold brocade, worn to a dull sheen.

The coachman turned the horses in a westerly direction, traveling on the Lucan Road. “And has your lordship ever been beyond the English Pale?” Thady asked, opening the trap in order to speak to Benedict.

Not wanting to seem like a cold, aloof aristocrat, Benedict allowed himself to be engaged in conversation. “No; but I have been to Dublin many times. Is it very far to Castle Argent?”

“Not at all, at all,” he was assured. “Not fifteen miles. I’ll have you there in a shake.”

“A shake being three hours?” Benedict called, amused.

Thady laughed. “Two, if you’re lucky.”

“Is there an inn at Ballyvaughn?” he asked. He did not quite know what to expect when he got to Castle Argent, and he did not want to assume that he would be welcome to spend the night there if it should prove necessary. He wasn’t even sure he would want to.

“Sure there’s nothing but turf-cutters and shebeens in Ballyvaughn,” Thady sneered.

Benedict grimaced. “I may have to ask you to drive back to Dublin through the night.”

“Ourselves will rest this night in Lucan.” Thady spoke with authority. “And I’ll carry you home to Lady Oranmore in the morning. There’s a respectable hotel in Lucan, in the shade of Lucan Castle, where Lady Lucan weeps for her poor murdered son, and he with his unrecognizable body hauled out of the bog like it was yesterday.”

Benedict took out his watch. He estimated that he would reach Ballyvaughn by eight o’clock. His errand at nearby Castle Argent should be concluded within an hour. With any luck he would be at the respectable hotel in the village of Lucan no later than ten o’clock. Cherry would be with him, of course. He became aroused thinking about their joyful reunion. He did not expect her to be anything but thrilled to see him.

“Is there a not-so-respectable hotel in Lucan?” he asked Thady. “I’m hoping to have a young woman with me on the return.”

A shocked silence fell between them. Thady’s disapproval was palpable.