Waltz With a Stranger (19 page)

Open your ears; for which of you will stop

The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?

—William Shakespeare,
2 Henry IV

Murderer
. The ancient stones of Pentreath seemed to give back the echo.

Dumbstruck, Aurelia stared at Trevenan, who had gone slightly pale but appeared otherwise composed. His face bore the reddening mark of the fair-haired woman’s hand, but he did not so much as raise his own to touch it.

“That’s quite a greeting, cousin,” he said at last, his tone level, almost uninflected. “Whom am I supposed to have murdered?”

Cousin? Aurelia looked more closely at—Helena, Trevenan had called her—but saw no close resemblance. This must be one of his other relations, from his father’s side of the family.

“Don’t play the innocent with me,
cousin
!” Helena practically spat the last word at him. “The coroner may have exonerated you in my brother’s death, but
I
am not so blind!”

Aurelia felt her sister stiffen beside her, heard Andrew’s faint intake of breath. For her part, she remained silent, watching the cousins intently.

Trevenan said as calmly as before, “I have done nothing of which I need be ashamed where Gerald was concerned. I am sorry for your loss, Helena, but I am not responsible for it.”

“Indeed not!” Lady Talbot stepped between her niece and nephew. “And the sooner you accept that and stop conducting yourself like a madwoman or a spoiled child the better!”

Helena’s face grew mottled. “Simply because you have always taken his part against Gerald’s or mine—”

“That will do!” Trevenan’s voice rang with an authority Aurelia had never heard him use before. It had the welcome effect of silencing Helena, though she still practically vibrated with fury. “I understand you have a quarrel with me, cousin, but I will not have you enacting an ill-bred scene before my guests. Pelham,” he addressed a black-clad butler who had just appeared in the doorway. “Please escort Lord and Lady Durward to the library for the time being.”

“Very good, my lord,” the butler returned with the imperturbable calm Aurelia had come to associate with English servants. “Lord Durward, Lady Durward—if you will follow me?”

“This isn’t over,” Helena hissed up at Trevenan, who merely inclined his head. Incensed by his lack of response, she gathered up her skirts with a sharp twitch and stalked up the steps and into the house. Lord Durward, clearly a nonentity, shot Trevenan what might have been an apologetic look and all but skulked after his wife.

Trevenan exchanged a significant glance with his aunt, then turned back to face his guests. “I am sorry you were all subjected to that. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” To Aurelia’s relief, Amy showed no sign of being affected by Lady Durward’s venom. “Having unpleasant relations is a cross many of us have to bear.”

“Well, rest assured that they shall be dealt with promptly,” he replied. “In the meantime, Amy, may I present to you my aunt, Lady Talbot? Aunt Judith, this is my intended, Amelia Newbold, her sister Miss Aurelia, and their brother Mr. Andrew.”

“I am delighted to meet you all.” Lady Talbot smiled warmly. “And I bid you welcome to Pentreath. Your parents have accompanied you too, Miss Newbold?”

“They have, Lady Talbot,” Amy replied. She glanced over her shoulder. “Indeed, I believe that is their carriage just entering the gate.”

Aurelia followed her sister’s gaze and saw the two remaining carriages now approaching the house. How fortunate that their parents were arriving now and not five minutes earlier, when Lady Durward was throwing about those vile accusations!

Moments later, Lady Talbot was welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Newbold to Pentreath and inviting everyone inside for a cup of tea and some light refreshment while the servants took their luggage up. Trevenan excused himself with a smile and disappeared into the depths of the house.

Aurelia gazed after him, suspecting he’d gone to deal with those awful Durwards. Fervently wishing him every success, she followed Lady Talbot and the rest of their party inside.

***

Helena, pacing the floor like a caged tigress, rounded on James the moment he entered the library. “How dare you keep me waiting, like some hireling!”

“How dare
you
arrive uninvited and make a scene in front of my guests?” he countered, meeting her fire with ice. “A Billingsgate fishwife would have shown more self-restraint.”

The comparison infuriated Helena enough to shock her into silence, though James knew better than to hope it would last. He studied her dispassionately as she flushed and sputtered. Like Gerald, she was tall, fair, and large-boned—not a bad-looking woman, in an Amazonian way. Also like Gerald, she could be domineering, even something of a bully. Despite her rank and dowry, she’d gone three London Seasons without an offer, for which James suspected her disposition was largely to blame. When Lord Durward had broached his suit during her fourth Season, her father had practically demanded she accept his proposal or risk being disinherited.

James glanced at the earl, lurking in a far corner of the room and looking distinctly uncomfortable, and wondered—not for the first time—how such a mild, self-effacing man could have brought himself to marry a termagant like Helena. Money, he suspected, and she had produced an heir within the last year. Little doubt that she ruled the roost at their estate in Wiltshire. It probably came as a rude shock that she could not do so here at Pentreath.

To his regret, Helena found her tongue at last. “I suppose a miner’s brat would know all about Billingsgate fishwives!”

“Mine
owner’s
brat,” James corrected, without rancor. He had long since ceased to respond to gibes about his mother’s family. As far as he was concerned, the Tresilians needed no defending—unlike the Trelawneys. He crossed over to his desk and sat down, knowing it would infuriate Helena to see him making himself at ease. “From your earlier outburst, I gather that you have concerns regarding Gerald’s death,” he resumed coolly. “Now, if you have something of substance to say, cousin, then say it. If you have merely come here to spew abuse and unfounded accusations, then you and Durward may depart this instant.”

The earl uttered a self-deprecating cough. “I think, Trevenan, you’ll find my wife has cause for concern,” he began tentatively, only to be silenced by Helena’s basilisk glare.

“They are
not
unfounded!” Turning back to James, she reached into her reticule and drew out an envelope. “This letter arrived at my home in Wiltshire three days ago!” she snapped, flinging it onto the desk before him. “Now read that, and tell me—if you dare—how I am mistaken!”

James picked up the letter, examining the envelope first: no return address, and Helena’s name and direction were printed in block capitals—difficult, if not impossible, to trace. He experienced a sudden unease as he extracted the single sheet of stationery. Good quality paper, heavy and smooth. But he kept his face impassive as he unfolded the page and read the contents.

No direct salutation, he noticed at once, and the thick, slanting handwriting was unfamiliar, but it was the tone—slyly insinuating rather than openly accusatory—that set his teeth on edge. Halfway down the page, his own name jumped out at him, and he read more closely.

—that while he has not soiled his hands with the blood of his predecessor, he may have attained his present position through means no gentleman would employ. Indeed, it is rumored in the county that, with the aid of his confederates, Sir H—— T——— and R——— P————, he did enlist the services of ruffians to accost the late Lord Trevenan as he walked the cliffs on this past New Year’s Eve, resulting in the untimely death of his lordship. Proof of this vile deed has been found and will be offered once certain conditions are met.

It was signed “A Concerned Friend.”

James stared at the letter a moment longer, feeling the slow roil of anger in his stomach. Of all the vile, damnable slurs…

“Well?” Helena demanded sharply. “Do you deny it?”

“Entirely,” he replied, dropping the letter back onto the desk. “If that letter represents the sum of your evidence against me, cousin, I can’t say much for your powers of discernment. Or your correspondent’s reliability, for that matter. I haven’t much use for someone who lacks the conviction either to identify these supposed culprits by name or to sign his own.”

She flushed an unbecoming scarlet. “Doubtless he feared reprisals from you and your—confederates!” Snatching up the letter again, she brandished it furiously at him. “But I’ll wager
you
know who they are! And I demand that you tell me at once!”

James rose to his feet; his cousin was a tall woman, but he still topped her by several inches, an advantage he was fully prepared to exploit at the moment. “So that you may slander two more innocent men? I think not.”

Helena drew an affronted breath, but before she could launch into another heated tirade, the library door opened and Lady Talbot entered the room.

“Our guests are being shown to their chambers now,” she reported. “So I’ve come to see if I could be of any assistance here.”

“Thank you,” James said.

“Hiding behind our aunt’s skirts again?” Helena gibed. “Well, it won’t help you this time!
I
know now, and the rest of the world will too, how you schemed against my brother!”

“The rest of the world will know better than to credit
your
baseless slanders, Helena!” Lady Talbot retorted quellingly.

“Not baseless—I have proof of what I say!” Helena thrust the letter under her aunt’s nose.

At James’s nod, Lady Talbot took the letter and read it through.

“Oh, this is absurd!” she exclaimed, looking up a few minutes later. “Nothing more than gossip, hearsay, and malicious innuendo! You’re a fool to put any credence in it, Helena. But then you were ever one to jump to conclusions,” she added scathingly.

Helena’s nostrils flared. “A fool, am I? Well, we’ll see about that.” She glared at James. “How would your fine guests like to know how you inherited your title? Your rich American bride and her even richer father?”

James held on to his patience—barely. “As I said before, I have nothing to hide or of which to be ashamed. My future in-laws are already aware of the circumstances under which I inherited—and that I was cleared of any possible involvement in Gerald’s death. You would do well,” he added, “to consider who might have written to you with such insinuations nearly six months after the fact. And what his motives for doing so might be.”

“And what he hopes to gain by it,” Lady Talbot added. She glanced down at the letter still in her hand. “‘Proof of this vile deed has been found and will be offered once certain conditions are met.’ If that doesn’t sound like a bid for remuneration, I don’t know what does.” She regarded her niece with cool disfavor. “For the right price, your correspondent could no doubt produce ‘evidence’ implicating James in the Whitechapel Murders. Try to show a little sense, Helena. You’re past the age for such credulous folly.”

For just a moment, James saw Helena’s bravado waver, the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Then she rallied. “You think to dismiss me with that? Well, I won’t have it! I
will
be answered, and Gerald will have justice!”

“Indeed he will,” James broke in smoothly.

Helena stopped short, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that, while I am not the least bit culpable, I have come to the conclusion that the circumstances of Gerald’s death are mysterious enough to warrant further investigation,” he replied. “At the very least, I should like to discover the source of the rumors reported in that letter. Two other men, whom I believe as innocent as myself, have been libeled—if only by implication. I owe it to us all to locate and silence their defamer before their reputations and honor are irretrievably damaged.”

“Fine words,” she scoffed. “Well,
I
won’t be silenced, cousin, or sent away!”

“I had not thought to suggest it,” James replied evenly. “If you seek answers, you are best off remaining in Cornwall for the present.”

Helena gave him a tight-lipped nod. “I shall stay here, of course,” she announced, flinging out the words like a challenge.

James inclined his head. “You are a Trelawney born, and an earl’s daughter. I would not deny your right to stay here, especially since you have traveled such a distance.” He spared a moment to be thankful that the Durwards’ infant heir had been left in Wiltshire with his nurse.

His aunt’s face showed a brief flicker of dismay, but consummate hostess that she was, she quickly concealed it. “It shall be as you say, James.” She turned to her niece. “I shall summon Pelham to see that chambers are prepared for you and Durward. Your old rooms will suffice, I think,” she added in a tone that brooked no argument.

If Helena was offended by the not too subtle implication that James’s other guests were occupying the best chambers, she had the sense not to show it. Instead, she nodded stiffly, while Durward murmured a pallid acknowledgment of James’s hospitality and fell silent again.

A flurry of activity followed, and then the Durwards were conveyed upstairs, Helena throwing a triumphant glance over her shoulder at James as she left. He kept his expression neutral, betraying neither displeasure nor dismay at her continued presence in his home.

“Well,” his aunt remarked, when they were alone in the library, “that was—unpleasant.”

“Deeply,” James agreed.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d sent them both off to an inn. We Cornish may be hospitable, but I’m not sure hospitality should extend to those intent on slandering their host.”

“Likely not. But better she be lodged under this roof, where we can keep an eye on her, rather than elsewhere, spreading her poison throughout the county.”

“There is that,” Lady Talbot acknowledged.

“I’m bearing that old saying in mind: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” James pulled a face. “I realize there’s no affection between Helena and myself, but I had not thought of her as an enemy.”