Undesirable Liaison (28 page)

At this
juncture, Jerome had no wish to encounter prying neighbours either,
but there had to be a service of some kind, for appearances’ sake.
The more so, perhaps, if he was to keep Flo safe from gossip, a
matter rapidly becoming paramount.

‘Let us see
when the time comes,’ he said, prevaricating.

There was a
moment of silence, and Jerome pushed his unfinished meal to one
side and retired into his coffee cup. He thought kindlier of his
cousin when Theo introduced a topic calculated to divert the
dowager’s attention.

‘Your Aunt
Painscastle was talking of making another visit here before the
Season is quite over.’

‘Phoebe is
coming here again? Oh no!’

‘Not yet
awhile, ma’am, have no fear.’ Sheinton grinned in sympathy,
accepting a refill of his cup from the butler. ‘Do you dread her
visits so much? I admit I am terrified of her when she is in full
flood.’

‘It is just
that she fidgets me so,’ complained Lady Langriville. ‘And I know
she will disapprove of Belinda, and say such things of her as will
make me very angry indeed.’ She laid down the second whig she had
but just taken up, and rose from her chair. ‘I think I will write
at once to put her off. Miss Petrie may pen the letter for me and I
will sign it. She may as well employ her time in that fashion as
any other. She has nothing better to do.’

‘Whose fault is
that?’ Jerome snapped before he could stop himself.

But his mother
was already retreating, conveniently pretending not to hear. Aware
of Theo’s startled gaze, he felt impelled to defend his words.

‘My mother does
not take to her companion, more’s the pity. She might have made
more of an effort, had Belinda not been in question.’

He then
regretted the words, for Sheinton took him up.

‘Which leads
one to ask, why is Belinda in question? I’ve never heard of a
companion with a sister in tow before.’

It was said on
a jocular note, but again Jerome felt a twinge of unease. Was there
hardness in Theo’s tone, or did he imagine it? He was unable to
prevent acidity from creeping into his own voice.

‘If you must
have it, it was my suggestion. I knew Florence was burdened with
the girl, and I thought it a suitable way to recompense her for
bringing me the news of Letty’s demise. Not that she had any idea
at the time of the potency of her information.’

‘Florence, eh?
A pretty name.’

There was that
in Sheinton’s handsome features as he stirred his coffee that
jarred on Jerome’s eye. A cynical look? It occurred to him he had
spoken her name with the sort of fluency that argues an intimate
acquaintance. There was no earthly reason why he should feel
compelled to explain himself to his young cousin, but his tongue
betrayed him.

‘The
circumstances are unusual, Theo. I daresay I should not have
thought of hiring a companion for my mother had Miss Petrie not
descended upon me with that cursed gemstone of Letty’s. If it
interests you so much, I brought her back to London in my chaise
for the purpose of questioning her about what she might know,
and…’

Theo lowered
the cup from his mouth. ‘My dear Jerome, I am not judging you,’ he
said, with a pitying air that made Jerome long to hit him. ‘You
were distrait at the time, I have no doubt, otherwise I am sure you
would have taken the trouble to sue for references.’

‘I had no need
of references. Her integrity had been well demonstrated, I thank
you.’

Theo flung up
his free hand in a mock gesture of defence. ‘Such a heat, old
fellow! Really, I had no notion of offending you.’

‘Then don’t
talk of matters of which you have no knowledge.’

Jerome caught
himself up, aware of having given too much away. Would Sheinton
make the obvious jump? Perhaps not. Theo knew his volatile
temperament. Pray heaven he put it down to the business of
discovering Letty’s death. It had not been very long, after all,
and it would not be thought strange to find a degree of uncertainty
in his mood.

The inward
argument yet failed to convince. Was he imagining calculation in
Theo’s green eyes? They smiled, and his cousin set down his cup and
rose.

‘How do you
mean to entertain me? It is too soon after breakfast to ride. What
about a drive? You must have at least one pair in your stables in
need of exercise.’

Beyond
remarking that he would have thought Theo to have had enough of
driving for a day or so, Jerome found no verbal fault with this
programme. Anything to get the fellow out of the house—and away
from any possibility of his encountering Florence. Why he should
feel so anxious, Jerome could not have said. Perhaps some instinct
was at work, of which he would know more by and by.

Meanwhile, much
as he longed to see Flo, it behoved him to keep his distance. They
must both tread warily. How to warn her he could not think, until
he recalled his valet’s intervention of last night. At least he
might turn one disaster to good account.

***

Florence was
indebted to her sister for knowledge of the overnight arrival. By
the time she got to Bel’s chamber to partake of breakfast, that
young lady had already received the news from the maid who brought
the tray.

‘His name is
Theodore Sheinton, and he’s much younger than Lord Langriville.
Handsomer too, for he has golden hair and green eyes and is like an
angel,’ chattered Belinda as she disposed rapidly of several slices
of ham. ‘What’s more, he is Lord Langriville’s heir, though he is
only his second or third cousin, or something, so—’

‘And where, may
I ask, did you acquire all this information? I suppose you pumped
the maid?’

‘Yes, I did,’
agreed Bel with enthusiasm, ‘and, most fortunately, she knows quite
a lot because she’s Miss Gilmerton’s niece. Besides, she’s been
here since she was fourteen. She even remembers Lady Langriville.
And she had golden hair too, so it’s a bit of a surprise his
lordship likes you so much, when you have hair as black as his own.
But this Theo—’

‘This who?’
interrupted Florence. ‘If you mean Mr Sheinton—’

‘Well, I do,
but everyone calls him Theo because—’

‘Not you, Bel,
I can assure you of that right now.’

Belinda made a
face. ‘Oh, I suppose you think it is rude of me. Of course I won’t
call him that to his face, but—’

‘You won’t call
him anything to his face, young lady. It is highly unlikely you
will meet him at all.’

To Flo’s
chagrin, her sister burst into laughter. ‘Oh, that won’t fadge,
Flossie. I am bound to meet him at dinner, after all.’

‘Not if I can
help it.’

‘Oh, Flo, don’t
be stuffy! In any event, it’s useless for you to say that, for I
know Lady Langriville will want me there.’

‘I dare say she
may, but if you dare to ask her—’

‘I shan’t have
to,’ interrupted Bel. ‘You know very well she dotes on me, and she
is bound to want to show me off, so that—’

Furious, Flo
slapped the table with the flat of her hand, making her sister
jump.

‘How dare you?
If you are become so puffed up in your own conceit merely because
an old lady chooses to pet you, there is little hope for you, my
girl. The sooner we leave here, the better it will be for both of
us.’

Belinda’s eyes
widened with shock. ‘
Leave
? You cannot mean it!’

Florence’s fury
turned on herself. Trust Bel to thrust her into indiscretion. But
it was out, and a certain sense of relief made her determine to
pursue the matter.

‘But I am
afraid I do mean it, Bel,’ she said in a more moderate tone,
setting aside her own plate on which reposed the remains of baked
eggs. ‘And I am bound to state your present conduct makes me
excessively glad of it.’

For a moment,
her sister stared at her in a horrified sort of way. Then her face
worked, and tears squeezed from her eyes. Florence merely waited,
refusing to be drawn to sympathy. A few hiccupping sobs escaped
Belinda, but Flo thought she recognised the seriousness of the
matter, for she made a valiant effort to suppress them.

‘I d-didn’t
mean it, Flo,’ she uttered at length, desperation in her tone. ‘I
know it sounded v-vain of me, but I swear I’m not really puffed up.
Pray don’t let us leave. Not on my account. I am persuaded we could
never be so comfortable elsewhere. I will be good, I promise. And
if I should happen to meet Mr Sheinton,’ she added, ‘I will call
him Mister Theo as the servants do to his face.’

She paused for
breath, looking hard at Florence. For a sign of relenting? Flo
maintained a stolid silence, playing for time as she reached for
the teapot and poured a measure of the hot liquid into her cup. She
could not allow the child to imagine she was to blame for the
decision to leave Bedfont Place. On the other hand, it was no bad
thing to have Bel repentant—even if it proved to be
short-lived.

‘Will that
c-content you, Flossie?’ asked Belinda.

The catch in
her sister’s voice was too much for Florence’s resolve. She set
down the teapot, and smiled, aware that a trifle of wistfulness
sounded in her voice.

‘I wish you
were not such an innocent, Bel. It grieves me to say it, but I’m
afraid we must leave. Not for anything you have done,’ she added,
as the girl’s face fell again. ‘I was only punishing you a little.’
A weary sigh escaped her. ‘There are circumstances of which you
know nothing—of which you
can
know nothing.’ Added as
question leaped in Belinda’s eyes. Flo injected tartness into her
tone. ‘But to say truth, I do believe it will be for your good as
well as mine in the end. Much more of Lady Langriville’s society,
and you will be fit for no sort of employment.’

To her chagrin,
Bel let out a giggle, reaching for her cup of warm milk. ‘I know.
She is besotted, is she not? Lord knows why, for there is nothing
in me for an old lady to like, is there?’

‘You are
nothing if not candid, Bel.’

‘Well, it’s
true.’ She made a face. ‘Though I must say I didn’t like the way
she went on last night at the dinner table. She carries a thing too
far. I wish you won’t let her adopt me, Flossie, for I don’t think
I should like it at all.’

‘There is no
fear of that, be assured.’

‘No, for she
would be like my mother, and although it is pleasant to be
permitted to speak as I like, and I am grateful for her showing me
how to be lady-like, I shouldn’t wish to be hedged about in such a
fashion all the time.’ A milky grin dispelled the last gloomy
cloud. ‘To be truthful, Flo, I’d rather be snapped and shouted at
by you.’

Florence was
obliged to laugh. ‘A curious ambition, but one I feel sure you will
achieve without difficulty.’

Which reduced
Belinda to helpless laughter, to Flo’s relief. She hoped she had
successfully deflected further question on the reason for their
leaving, and was glad to have the matter brought out into the open.
It strengthened her resolve.

She had slept
but fitfully, prey to a nagging disappointment that Jerome had not
waited her return last night. Notwithstanding her intention had
been to argue her way out of the liaison, he had no right to have
left her under the circumstances. So her thoughts had run,
foolishly.

Belinda’s
revelation had brought unexpected balm. Jerome must have been
driven to leave last night to deal with the late arrival. How he
had come by the information was a question that only occurred to
her later, when she was accosted by his lordship’s valet on her way
to the dowager’s apartments.

‘If you will
forgive me, Miss Petrie.’

Flo paused,
turning to Digmoor. ‘Yes?’

It struck her
his manner was furtive. He glanced behind her, searchingly, she
thought. And then, turning his head, he looked back along the
corridor. Then he slid a hand inside an inner pocket of his black
tailcoat.

‘I am requested
to give you this—discreetly.’

There was a
hush on the last word, and Florence reached out to take the slip of
folded paper he was holding, in such a manner as to conceal it from
any other eyes than her own. She glanced down at it, and back up to
the fellow’s face. The bland expression altered subtly, and Flo
thought she saw a conspiratorial look in his eye.

The reason
flashed into her brain. He knew! Embarrassment covered her, and she
wanted only to get away. She managed a strangled murmur of thanks,
and turning, fled his presence for the surer safety of her
employer’s inimical company.

Her heart was
beating too fast for comfort, and her mind was afire with question.
While she greeted the dowager, barely taking in the expression of
irritability she wore, Flo was thinking hard—and not kindly—of the
lady’s son.

Had Jerome had
the audacity to confide the dreadful truth to his valet? What, was
she of so little account to him he could enjoin his servant in her
fateful indiscretion? Or had he merely requested Digmoor to bring
the note to her, and the fellow had added up two and two to make
four?

On the thought,
she realised the note was no longer in her fingers. Panic took her.
Where had it gone? Had she dropped it in her haste? Thrusting a
hand through the slit in her petticoat, she found her pocket and
felt the stiffness within. She must have put it in there without
realising. The relief she felt was swept away by the instant
question of how she could find an opportunity to read it.

Lady
Langriville was seated in her favourite chair, an open book on her
lap, to which she had not once referred. Instead, she appeared to
be in a brown study, her thoughts none too pleasurable by the look
on her face. Perhaps she had reason to be displeased by the advent
of her young relative. Not unwilling to add to the little store of
knowledge Belinda had given her, Flo put it to the test.