Lord Deverill's Secret Read online

  “John can take the pieces I am keeping to the estate in the coach, once it has been repaired,” she said. “The rest he can dispose of.”

  Having sorted through the furniture, she helped Moll with the cleaning. The sun rose in the sky. At last, tired, she sat back on her heels and pushed her hair out of her face. It had come loose of its chignon, and was falling in golden strands around her neck.

  “I just hopes all this work is worth it,” said Moll darkly. “There might not be anyone looking for a town house.”

  “Someone is sure to want it,” said Cassandra. “Now that the Prince of Wales has made his home in Brighton it’s become popular with all the most fashionable people, and it’s easy to see why. There is so much for them to do. There are the balls and assemblies, the races and the bathing…” She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, whose hands showed that it was half past nine. She threw down her duster. “Maria will be here soon. I had better go and change into something more suitable.”

  “All this sea bathing. I don’t hold with it,” said Moll. “You’ll catch your death,” she predicted dourly.

  “I don’t suppose it will be as bad as that. I will probably only contract pneumonia,” said Cassandra teasingly.

  “And who’ll have to nurse you if you do, that’s what I want to know?”

  “You’ll enjoy it,” Cassandra said humorously. “You know you always love looking after me. Now, I will need a towel, and a dry chemise to change into when I have bathed.”

  Muttering under her breath, Moll went to fetch them. Cassandra removed her apron and tidied her hair, and then ran over to the window as she heard a carriage pulling up outside. It was Maria. She went downstairs with Moll behind her, and putting on her spencer and bonnet she went outside.

  “I’ve sent James away,” said Maria. “It’s such a lovely morning, I thought we would walk.”

  “A good idea,” said Cassandra, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face and thinking that a walk would be just the thing.

  She and Maria unfurled their parasols and strolled down to the beach. Moll grumbled along behind them. Despite the early hour, they were not the only promenaders. A number of other ladies and gentlemen were strolling along, taking the air. A young boy propelled himself along on a pedestrian curricle, dodging in and out of them, and a dog ran along behind him, barking. Urchins followed the dog, trying to catch it, and a baker ran along behind the urchins, shaking his fist as one of them crammed chunks of a stolen loaf into his mouth. A buxom young maid called out the virtues of her pastries, and a footman ran out into the road, intent on hailing a hackney carriage for his mistress.

  Cassandra and Maria walked on to the beach, with Moll still complaining behind them. Cassandra’s eye wandered over the brightly coloured bathing machines. The wooden huts rested on the top of four large iron wheels which were red with rust. Some of them were already in use, standing in the water, and one of them was in the act of being drawn in to the sea. It was being pulled by a heavy horse, who was being urged on by a ragged urchin perched on its back.

  Cassandra and Maria approached the nearest machine and arranged to take it, then climbed up the steps that led inside. Moll followed them, puffing and panting as she climbed the steps.

  “Like a gypsy caravan,” grumbled Moll. “Not fit for a decent body.”

  “It’s not so very bad,” said Cassandra. “In fact, it’s very clean, much better than the one I had last time.”

  The machine was not only clean, it was spacious inside. A wooden seat ran down both sides of it, and in the middle of it there was a clear space, ideal for undressing. Cassandra and Maria took off their gowns, with Moll’s help, and then removed their corsets. They sat on the seat and took off their satin shoes, then rolled off their stockings. At last, dressed in nothing but their chemises, they declared themselves ready.

  “I tried to persuade Harry to bathe as well, but he said if he wanted to kill himself he’d do it in a civilized way, with brandy and cigars, instead of catching his death in the water,” said Maria with a sigh. “It’s a pity, because I’m sure he’d enjoy it. The gentlemen’s part of the beach is always busy.”

  There was a bump and the machine began to move. It crunched over the beach and then swished and sloshed as it entered the water. When it was deep enough, the urchin halted the horse and Cassandra descended the steps, with Maria behind her. She gasped as she felt the sea creeping over her feet, then her knees, then her thighs.

  “It’s cold!” she exclaimed.

  At the bottom of the steps there was a dipper, a jovial fat woman dressed in a shapeless garment like an enveloping nightgown, with a cap on her head. She helped Cassandra down the last few remaining steps and dipped her into the water.

  “It’s a lovely day for it,” the dipper said.

  Cassandra agreed. She was becoming used to the temperature, and as soon as she was immersed she struck out to sea, away from the bottom of the steps.

  Maria launched herself forward and swam a few ungainly strokes.

  “I wish Mama had taught me to swim as a child,” she said. “I used to see you in the water with your mother and envy you, but Mama said it was undignified.”

  “Perhaps it is,” said Cassandra. “But it’s also great fun.”

  They swam on together, then stopped to talk.

  “Look at all the beautiful bathing dresses,” said Cassandra.

  Whilst some of the ladies were bathing in their petticoats, others were dressed in colourful garments that were as well designed as ball gowns. An elegant young lady swam past, and Cassandra recognized the dusky-haired beauty from the assembly rooms.

  “That’s Miss Kerrith,” said Maria. “I’ve told you about her before. She’s set her cap at Lord Deverill, and means to have him if she can. I think she will succeed. His father speculated unwisely and lost the family fortune, and he needs to marry an heiress.”

  Cassandra continued to watch Miss Kerrith. The young beauty’s bathing dress was a delicate shade of pink, and was adorned with ribbon roses. It clung to her perfect form in the water, showing every curve. Her bathing cap was designed to match, and covered all but the front row of her dusky curls.

  “She is always exquisitely dressed,” said Maria. “I’m tempted to buy a bathing gown myself, but it seems such a waste. The salt water will quickly ruin it, and besides, there is no one of any importance to see it.”

  Although some of the bathers were young, many were elderly or infirm. Cassandra and Maria moved away from them and began to swim again. Cassandra soon outstripped Maria. She turned on her back and floated along in the sunshine. She was just about to turn on to her front again and swim back to Maria when a flailing arm hit her across the throat and she was knocked under the water. Unfortunately, not all of the ladies who took to the water could swim, and such incidents were not uncommon. She righted herself, and was just about to turn round and offer her assistance when another whirling arm pushed her under again. She surfaced and tried to help, but she was hit again by whirling arms and legs. She was pushed under the water, and by some unlucky chance, the arms and legs kept her under. She struggled to reach the surface, but when she was kicked again she decided to escape the flailing limbs by swimming along underwater. When she had gone far enough to be safe, she emerged from the waves and gulped down precious lungfuls of air. She was wiping the water out of her eyes when Maria swam up beside her.

  “What happened?” asked Maria in concern.

  “One of the women needed help,” said Cassandra. “I tried to give it to her, but she kept pushing me under the water. There’s always someone in trouble. Most of the women here only swim when they’re on holiday. They go along quite contentedly, then suddenly they find they are out of their depth and start to panic.”

  “Where did it happen?” asked Maria.

  Cassandra looked round, but there was no sign of any windmilling arms and legs, and no splashes or sounds of anyone in distress. The ladies nearby were swimming along serenely
, or standing up to their waists in the water and gossiping.

  “One of the dippers must have helped her, or she must have managed to find her feet.”

  “As long as she doesn’t come near me,” said Maria anxiously. “I’m not very confident in the water, and I don’t want anyone pulling me under the waves.”

  Despite her words, Maria was reasonably proficient, and she and Cassandra swam on together, enjoying the freshness of the water and the sound of the surf in their ears.

  As time passed they began to grow cold and at last they were ready to go home. They returned to their bathing machine and climbed the steps. Water streamed from their chemises and poured from their hair.

  “You’ll catch your deaths, just see if you don’t,” grumbled Moll as she wrapped them in towels.

  Cassandra and Maria exchanged glances and smiled, then gave their attention to dressing. Before long they were ready to go.

  “A hot bath, that’s what you’ll need when we get home,” said Moll as the three of them left the bathing hut.

  They began to walk up the beach. As they did so, Cassandra caught sight of a figure she recognized. It was Lord Deverill. He saw them and greeted them, making a bow.

  “I see you have been bathing,” he said. “It is very intrepid of you.”

  “There’s nothing nicer on a fine day,” said Cassandra.

  “Are you returning home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then allow me to escort you.”

  He offered her his arm. She hesitated, remembering the strange frisson that had assailed her when she had taken his arm at the ball, but then, not wishing to appear particular, she put her hand lightly on his arm. Again, she felt a shiver of awareness wash over her.

  He appeared not to notice it. He offered Maria his other arm, but she claimed she wanted to speak to Moll and fell behind them.

  “Do you swim?” Cassandra asked him.

  “Yes, I do. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about living in Brighton.”

  “Have you always lived here?”

  “No. I grew up on a country estate, but my father had to sell it when I was at Oxford. Since leaving, I have lived here.”

  Cassandra found her thoughts wandering back to their previous conversation.

  “When I spoke to you at the assembly rooms, you said you had promised Rupert you would help me if I ever needed it. I knew that you and he were friends because I had overheard him talking about you, but I did not know you were on such intimate terms. Did you know each other well?”

  “Well enough,” he said non-committally.

  “I’m surprised he did not tell me all about you. He was always dazzled by titles.”

  “Whereas you are not,” he said, turning to look at her.

  “I like them well enough. But they are like the ribbon on a gown. A fine ribbon will improve even the most beautiful dress, but it will not disguise a poor fit or shoddy stitching.”

  He laughed. “It’s the first time I’ve ever been compared to a gown!” He glanced at her. “I hope I am not shoddily made?”

  “Not at all. You are—” She had been going to say, You are very well made, but stopped herself just in time, saying instead, “a very good man, I am sure. You must be, if you promised to help the sisters of an acquaintance. Even so, I’m surprised Rupert asked you. I would have expected him to ask Mr. Raistrick, perhaps, or Mr. Goddard.”

  “I was the only person with him when he died,” he said. “He had no one else to ask.”

  Her mood sobered. “I wish Rupert had not been so wild. If he had not gone riding at night, he would still be alive today.”

  They crossed the road, threading their way through carts and carriages, and arrived safely at the other side.

  “Why were you with Rupert that night?” asked Cassandra.

  “I often go out riding on the Downs. Do you mean to ride now you are in Brighton?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “No. Ever since Rupert’s accident, I just don’t want to ride any more.”

  “You should have climbed on a horse straight away,” he said.

  “I did. I made sure Lizzie did, too. She had always loved riding, but she did not want to go once Rupert had fallen. So I encouraged her, and she overcame her fear.”

  “But you did not overcome yours?”

  “I overcame the fear, but the joy of riding did not come back.”

  “Perhaps, in time, it will.”

  “Perhaps.”

  They reached the door.

  “Thank you. It was very kind of you to escort us.”

  “Not at all.”

  He bowed over her hand and kissed it. She felt a strange sensation, a hot tingle, and her eyes were drawn to his. She saw a flash of something unrecognizable but strangely compelling there, and then it was gone.

  Maria and Moll joined them.

  “You must come to my soirée,” said Maria as Lord Deverill made her a bow. “I am holding it next week.”

  Cassandra expected him to make a polite excuse, but instead he said, “I’d be delighted.”

  Maria glowed. Cassandra found that she was glad yet unsettled at the same time. He made his farewells and then walked away.

  “You seem to have found a guardian angel, Cassie,” said Maria.

  “Nonsense,” said Cassandra. “Lord Deverill just happened to be passing when we left the beach.”

  “Perhaps,” said Maria.

  They went inside.

  It had been agreed that Maria would stay with Cassandra for the rest of the day. Harry was engaged in business and would collect Maria on his way home after dinner.

  “A hot bath, now,” said Moll as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Cassandra and Maria followed her. If she had been able to afford a houseful of servants, Cassandra would have liked nothing better than to bathe in her dressing-room, but as it was, she did not want Moll to have to carry heavy cans of hot water upstairs.

  As she helped Moll pull the hip bath out into the middle of the kitchen floor, she thought over what Maria had said. Was Lord Deverill her guardian angel? Was he watching over her? Perhaps he felt he owed it to her brother.

  She and Maria took it in turns to bathe, then went to sit outside. The sun was still shining, and the small area behind the house was not overlooked. It was in a quiet alley, unfrequented by fashionable people and rarely traversed by servants. She and Maria arranged their hair across their shoulders and settled down for a comfortable gossip.

  “I was thinking,” said Cassandra, “that I would like to go to the races.”

  “Oh, what a good idea,” said Maria. “I think you’ll find Mr. Kingsley will be there, too.” She saw Cassandra’s face. “Don’t look at me like that, Cassie. I saw you dancing with him last night and he looked very taken with you. He’s not as good a catch as Lord Armington, of course, but it does no harm to have more than one suitor. He’s very wealthy, and he really is rather a dear.”

  “He danced with me. He didn’t offer me marriage,” Cassandra said.

  “Oh, Cassie, I do wish you’d make more of your chances. If you married, you could keep the town house and you could holiday here every summer. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  Cassandra hesitated. Her visit to Brighton had been full of surprising incidents: her meeting with Mr. Elwin, her encounters with Lord Deverill and her ducking in the water. It wasn’t quite the restful place she remembered.

  “Of course you would,” said Maria, answering the question for her.

  Moll brought them both a cup of tea, “To stop you catching your deaths,” she said, and they drank the refreshing brew.

  “I invited Mr. Kingsley to my soirée,” Maria continued, “but he had another engagement.” She put her cup down in her saucer. “Never mind, Lord Armington has accepted. And what a lucky chance it was that I could also invite Lord Deverill.”

  “Lord Deverill needs to marry an heiress,” Cassandra reminded her, putting her cup down.

  “That is
so, but it will do Lord Armington no harm to have a rival.”

  “It’s very kind of you, Maria, and I do appreciate everything you are trying to do for me,” said Cassandra, turning to face her, “but I wish you would not encourage me to see every man as a husband.”

  “Not every man,” said Maria. “Just the eligible ones.”

  Cassandra laughed and shook her head.

  “Don’t set your mind against it too soon,” said Maria, unperturbed. “When you come to know one of the gentlemen better, then you might change your mind.”

  Justin returned home.

  “There is a person to see you, my lord,” said Manby, as he entered the house.

  “A person?” said Justin, turning to look at his butler.

  “Yes, my lord,” said Manby. “I have put him in the library.”

  Justin went through into the library, where a roughly dressed man was waiting for him.

  “So you got my message,” said Justin.

  “Yes, m’lord. There’s something you want doing?”

  “There is. I want someone watching. A Miss Paxton.” He gave the man her address, then took something out of his pocket. It was a small gold locket. He flicked it open. “This is what she looks like.”

  The man glanced at the locket and examined the portrait inside.

  “Very good, m’lord.”

  “I want to know if anyone is following her, and I want to know that she is safe. You will be working with Peggy Black as usual. It will be up to the two of you to watch over her.”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  The man bowed himself out of the room.

  Justin stood alone, thinking for a few minutes. As he did so, his eyes strayed to Cassandra’s portrait and he looked at it for the thousandth time. The artist had caught her clear blue eyes and had added the tiny flecks of gold that made them so unusual, and he had caught her hair, making it soft and golden. He had painted her skin so well that as Justin stroked his finger over it he could almost feel the soft touch of it.