Elizabeth Kidd (13 page)

“Indeed, yes,” Hester now chimed in. “Why, I recall that he broke his arm when he was a boy and make so light of it that we nearly did not discover that the limb was broken in time to have it set.”

Antonia smiled at Hester, prepared to listen to a story she had heard several times before, to make up for her unkind, if unspoken, thoughts about Miss Coverley.

“Of course, he comes to town to see us,” Julia said, having neither reason nor desire to encourage Hester. “Or at least in part to do so,” she conceded. “Even I am not so vain as to suppose he does it solely for our sake.”

“And he is most conscientious of his duty in writing to us regularly when he is residing in Leicestershire,” Hester confirmed. “As you do, Antonia, dear,” she added thoughtfully.

“Speaking of duty,” Julia said, “Is the match between Carey and Miss Melville definitely off?”

“Oh, no!” Antonia exclaimed. “At least—I do not believe so. I know that Carey’s feelings have not changed, and I believe that Elena’s have not either. I have every hope of a happy ending still.”

“You were always romantical,” Julia remarked, as if commenting on her being too short for beauty or afflicted with a poor singing voice.

Antonia had long ceased taking umbrage at any fault Julia might perceive in her, but before she could explain her reasons for thinking so, Hester asked, “Have you spoken with Miss Melville, then?”

“I’m afraid not—only with her guardian. But he told us something that leads me to believe that Elena broke off the engagement for other reasons than that her feelings had changed.”

Both ladies looked expectant, and Antonia related the story of the mysterious brother and her suspicions that he had something to do with the matter.

“And what does the brother say?” Julia asked.

“That’s just it, you see. No one has seen him—except, presumably, Elena. Mr. Melville has not, and Carey did not know anything about him.”

“Miss Melville did not tell him she has a brother?” Julia said. “That seems very odd to me.”

It seemed very odd to Antonia also, but she would not even imply a criticism of Elena in front of Julia Wilmot. “I expect her estrangement with her family is something Elena regrets, and she was therefore reluctant to mention it. I’m sure she would have done so…eventually.”

“Perhaps he is the black sheep of the family,” Hester suggested, her eyes lighting at the possibility of such a drama among people she knew, who were generally very proper and uninteresting. “Has he been cast out of the family bosom? Has he done something dreadful to bring disgrace on them?”

Julia made a disapproving sniff, but Antonia smiled. “Much as I would like to provide you with an exciting
on-dit
, Hester, dear, I fear the estrangement will turn out to be the result of some silly misunderstanding, nothing more. Still,” she went on, “I wish I knew how to find Dimitri and confront—that is, speak to him about it and hear his side.”

Hester leaned forward, still hopeful. “Dimitri? What an exotic name! But of course, he is Greek, is he not?”

“Yes. Dimitri Metaxis.”

Antonia glanced hopefully at Julia, who was gazing pensively into her cup of India tea. Hester’s interest was gratifying, and she had a wide circle of friends among whom she would now doubtless inquire about Dimitri, but it was Julia’s help she wanted most. Antonia suspected that Julia had never entirely approved of Carey’s engagement to Elena Melville, particularly since she had had no hand in bringing the match about, but Julia was not so devoted to the sanctity of the Heywood line and the respectability of anyone connected with it that she would object to a love match or do anything to prevent it.

“Perhaps I may make a few inquiries,” she said at last.

Antonia let out her breath and said, “Oh, thank you, Aunt Julia. I hoped you would say that.”

Julia glared at her. “Nonsense. You came here planning to cajole me into helping you. I know your ways, young woman!”

“Yes, Aunt,” Antonia conceded meekly.

“Oh, how thrilling!” Hester said. “A mystery to be solved!” She immediately rose and said she was going out now to begin making inquiries of her own, and would Antonia care to join her?

Antonia declined the invitation, and when Hester had closed the door behind her, she remained seated opposite Julia.

“That is the first time in my memory that I have agreed to do something for someone without first hearing the entire story.”

“Why, Aunt Julia,” Antonia said, pretending surprise, “What can I have left out?”

“A great deal, I suspect. Now tell me.”

“Yes, Aunt Julia.”

Chapter 11

Lord and Lady Kedrington quite forgot the important matters they had intended to discuss that night, for after an excellent supper, washed down with a considerable quantity of champagne, those matters seemed not at all important. What they talked of by the light of the single candle in her ladyship’s bedroom was only of themselves, and when their voices fell silent and the candle guttered out, their thoughts were only for each other and the pleasures each found in the other’s company.

The following morning, however, as Antonia sat up in bed waiting for rolls and coffee to be sent up to her and perusing the last quarter’s
Edinburgh Review
in lieu, temporarily, of more recent news, she recalled something she had meant to ask her husband that had nothing to do with their conversation the night before—or its lack in the small hours.

His lordship was in his dressing room being shaved, so she was obliged to call loudly, “Dearest, have you ever considered going back to the sort of work you did in Spain—you know, for the Duke?”

“If you mean spying,” he replied, “you can say the word in Milford’s presence. He was there too.”

“I beg your pardon, Milford”—a polite murmur of acknowledgement emerged from his lordship’s valet—“but Duncan, have you?”

“Certainly not. First, we are no longer at war. Second, we are not in Spain. And third, I don’t have the time, what with managing Windeshiem so that it produces a sufficient income for you to live in the style to which I have accustomed you.”

“Oh, pooh. I am not
that
extravagant. Come in here and help me finish this champagne. Perhaps that will change your mind.”

He came into her room then, rubbing his chin, and closed the dressing room door behind him, shutting out the sounds of shaving basin and water being removed from the vicinity. He sat down on the bed and kissed Antonia’s cheek.

“Oh, you do smell delightful when you’ve just shaved—and you don’t scratch when you kiss.”

She returned the kiss, and for several moments forgot her train of thought.

“But if you were to, say—”

“No,” he said.

“How do you know what I was about to say?”

There was a decided gleam in his eye as he said, “It doubtless had something to do with changing my habits, but I am far too far along in my dotage to do that.”

He took the
Review
out of her hand and laid it on the table on his side of the bed. “Anyway, it’s my guess that Miss Melville’s brother threatened her with something if she goes on seeing Carey.”

That effectively diverted her. “What? Oh—do you think so? But why?”

“Why do I think so? Because I discovered yesterday that young Dimitri has been running with a very shady crowd.”

“I meant, why would he threaten her? And how did you find out who he’s been keeping company with?”

“When you become ungrammatical, my love, I know you’re thinking hard. But it’s not so complicated. I know a few people in the foreign office who are intimately involved with the Elgin controversy, and they have been watching closely those patriots who want the marbles returned to Greece. Young Mr. Metaxis is one of them, but there is no evidence that he has done anything but talk—and keep company with ruffians.”

“But why has no one seen him—apart, presumably, from his sister?”

“No one particularly cares. Among our circle, no one is aware of his existence. Of the authorities monitoring the situation, no one has any reason to watch him more closely than anyone else. They know where he lives, but they could not tell me anything officially.”

He paused and picked up a glass from the bedside table. “This is flat,” he said, tasting the golden liquid in it.

“There’s an unopened bottle on the dresser.”

He eyed the bottle consideringly and finally said, “I think not. I have several errands to run today, and I do not care to be seen weaving about the streets.”

“Where are you going?” she said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his collar. She was reluctant to see him go. “Will you see Carey?”

“I had not planned to do so, but I may well encounter him somewhere in my wanderings. Shall I give him a message for you?”

He looked at her and smiled, and she had the distinct impression that he was holding something back. She was certain that he did know where Dimitri Metaxis lived, but would not tell her. She also suspected that he knew more about Dimitri’s Greek patriot organization than he let on.

“You
are
going to nose about for clues!” she accused him.

He looked appalled. “My dear Lady Kedrington, wherever do you pick up such slang expressions?”

“At Wyckham, I daresay. Carey’s hounds are forever ‘nosing about’ where they should not—and they stir up hornets’ nests and annoy hedgehogs often enough to teach them a lesson which they never seem to learn.”

“I shall take care where I put my nose,” he said, interpreting her anecdote as a warning to be cautious. He rose from the bed, but she pulled on his hand.

“Dearest, if you do see Carey….”

He sat down again. “What?”

“You know I am as curious as you about Dimitri Metaxis and his intentions, but I am much more concerned for my brother’s happiness. I will try again to call on Elena, but if I cannot reassure her that whatever difficulties have caused her to break off their engagement are not long-lasting, will you please speak to Carey?”

“What can I say?”

“The same thing—that everything will resolve itself somehow. He looks up to you, Duncan—he will believe you. If you are able, also find him something to occupy his mind until this business is resolved.”

“I do believe I am becoming quite talented in that particular skill.”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned over to give her a good-bye kiss. “Only that I can lie with conviction—like a good spy.”

“You are absurd. Give my love to Robin Campbell.”

“Your love?”

“I do have a little left over, I think.”

“Oh, in that case—” He came back to the bed and pulled up the covers as if he would get in, fully clothed, but Antonia laughed and pulled the sheets more firmly around her.

“Get away and go to your spying.”

He got up. “Yes, your ladyship.”

“And find out what is delaying my breakfast,” she flung after him. “I’m famished!”

He went out, chuckling, and Antonia recalled, ruefully, how worried she had been that he had nothing to do. Apparently, he had found more than enough to worry her for other reasons.

* * * *

Lord Kedrington did make several calls in the vicinity of St. James’s before signaling a hack to take him to Burlington House. His efforts to learn whether Sir John Drummond had an undisclosed purpose for his recent speech had thus far been fruitless, so he was glad that his wife had failed to ask him about that particular matter.

He smiled at himself. He still behaved like a smitten suitor, wanting Antonia to believe him invincible and all-powerful. It was not that she was unaware of his weaknesses—indeed, she had pointed them out unmercilessly in the early days of their courtship—but she had not mentioned them, or not often, since their marriage, and he like to hope that she no longer cared about them. He hoped even more fervently that she never had occasion to recall them.

His cab was just turning down Jermyn Street to bypass the traffic on Piccadilly when Kedrington spotted Carey Fairfax emerging from his club. By his disheveled look and uncertain gait, Kedrington guessed that his brother-in-law had spent the night there, and not in any lofty pursuit. He called up to the driver to pull over to the curb.

Carey squinted at the cab, as though wondering if he had called it, then groaned when he saw the face in the window and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Oh, lord—Duncan! Just leave me to die in peace, can’t you.”

“Nonsense, you can’t do it on a public street. Your sister would never speak to you again. Get in.”

Still grumbling, Carey stumbled into the cab and fell back against the seat. “If I was dead, she couldn’t talk to me anyway,” he cavilled.

“I’m glad to see that your mind has not entirely turned to liquid. But she wouldn’t speak to me, either, and that fate I do not care to contemplate. What has Miss Melville said to you to cast you down so far into the depths?”

Evincing no surprise at Kedrington’s perception, Carey poured out the entire tale of his last meeting with his beloved, not leaving out his haunting of her door, nor Mary, nor his nearly causing Elena to be run down in the street. Kedrington did not interrupt, but even so, by the time he finished this rodomontade, they had been waiting in the cab in front of Burlington House for several minutes.

Carey sighed, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes.

“You can’t sleep here,” Kedrington told him. “It isn’t an hotel. Do you wish to keep the cab, or will you come inside with me? You can nap there, if you like, while I speak with Robin Campbell.”

Carey opened one eye, faintly interested. “May as well come in,” he mumbled. “Nothing better to do.”

Shortly thereafter, Kedrington found himself studying the marbles as if he had not seen them a dozen times before. Robin Campbell had been escorting a party of scholars around the collection when they came in, and so they were obliged to wait for his attention.

“Don’t see what the fuss is all about,” Carey remarked, scowling back at a belligerent centaur. “What did you say this is supposed to represent?”

His brother-in-law regarded him balefully. “Has none of this been explained to you? Or were you just too besotted of Miss Melville’s earlobe to pay attention when we were last here?”