Page 33 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #1)

It was a fine May night, and Richard and Giles had decided to walk home from the ball at the Uppinghams’ mansion in Bedford Square.

Giles had said he needed the fresh air, and Richard had gone along with it.

He wasn’t a bit tired. At the ball, he had put his ‘foursome’ scheme into action by engaging the attention of the two American heiresses, who seemed in any case to like to stick together.

It had worked very well, he thought. Through his expert manoeuvrings they had taken them into supper and, by managing to occupy the end of one of the tables, had been able to engage them in conversation without too much distraction.

‘So which did you like better?’ he asked. ‘For my money, Van Dycke is slightly the prettier, though there’s not much in it, but from all accounts the Brevoorte fortune is larger. They’re both nice girls.’ His brother had not said anything. ‘Giles? Which did you prefer?’

Giles came out of a reverie. ‘Isn’t the question rather, which of them preferred me? As far as I could tell, it was neither. They both liked you better.’

‘Oh, you needn’t worry about that. They’re after a title. Your being rather a dull old stick is nothing to the point. Which did you like?’

‘Neither,’ said Giles. ‘Oh, I suppose they were nice enough in their way. But they talked so much, they gave me a headache.’

‘You praised the Sanderton girl for talking.’

‘That was conversation. Theirs was empty chatter, like the noise in an aviary.’

Richard looked at him in alarm. ‘Lord, you do sound in a bad way! I know what the problem is – you haven’t had enough to drink. You hardly downed a glass all evening.’ He looked around. ‘There must be a public house somewhere, where we can get a brandy. Where are we?’

‘Golden Square,’ Giles answered. ‘The Crown is the nearest, but it will be closed.’

Richard gave him a quizzical smile. ‘How so knowledgeable?’

‘My rooms are just over there,’ he said. ‘I sometimes ate in the Crown when I was staying here.’

‘I didn’t know you used to have rooms.’

‘Not “used to”. I still have them,’ Giles said.

‘But you sold all Papa’s London places to save money,’ Richard said, remembering with a pang of guilt that he had promised to raise Mrs Sands’s problem and hadn’t.

Giles threw him a distracted glance. ‘I paid for my rooms out of my own income. And they cost so little, I thought I’d keep them on, in case.’

‘In case?’ Richard queried, raising an eyebrow.

Giles reddened. ‘Why must you make everything sound disreputable? I’m used to coming and going unannounced. One might want to get away on one’s own.’

Richard raised defensive hands. ‘I’ve no quarrel with that, old dear. I merely wondered. Which house is it?’

‘That one. I have the first floor. Nothing grand – just a bedroom and a parlour.’

Richard stared thoughtfully at the neat, brown-brick house with the white trim. ‘Can we go in? I’d like to see. And I’m willing to bet you have a bottle of something up there.’

‘I believe there’s sherry. But it’s very late.’

‘You mean the housekeeper will be in bed?’

‘I have a key,’ he admitted.

Richard grinned. ‘Then there’s no excuse. Show me your secret hideaway, old boy – or I’ll tell.’

Giles smiled. ‘I believe you would. But I don’t mind showing you.’

The rooms, being on the first floor, had the high ceilings and long, lovely windows of the typical Georgian townhouse. There was a handsome fireplace in each room, and the furniture, while old and plain, was solid and decent.

‘This is cosy,’ Richard said, dropping into a chair, while Giles searched the fireside alcove cupboard for bottle and glasses.

‘I always thought so,’ Giles said. ‘It was enough for me, when I was in London, near enough to the university, but not too out-of-the-way.’

‘Gas lighting, I see – most convenient. What do you do for a bath?’

Giles handed him a glass of sherry with a surprised look. ‘There’s a closet behind the bedroom, with a tin bathtub. The girl brings water up and takes it away.’

‘And how did you feed?’

‘Mrs Gateshill, the housekeeper, provides food if you give her notice, but I often ate out.’

Richard looked around appraisingly. ‘And there’s room for a piano.’

‘Piano? What are you talking about? And why all the interest?’ Giles asked.

Richard watched as Giles half-drained the sherry glass and, judging him to be reasonably mellow, told the sad story of Mrs Sands.

Giles listened in silence, but his expression underwent a number of changes: suspicion, disapproval, anger – and, finally, a faint shame.

‘I didn’t know,’ he said, when Richard paused. ‘Obviously.’

‘Quite,’ said Richard. ‘No-one would blame you.’

But Giles was thinking. ‘I ought to have found out whether the properties were empty or not. I wonder about the others …’

‘Don’t. It seems to me that was Markham’s job. You gave the order, he had to carry it out, but the details were for him to advise you about.’

‘You say she’s – respectable?’ Giles asked, frowning in thought.

‘Eminently,’ Richard said. He shrugged. ‘Very well, I know she engaged in sin and wickedness with our father, but you know and I know that it happens all the time. Our beloved monarch has an extremely respectable mistress who even accompanies him to dinner-parties, and nobody thinks any the worse of him – or her. Well, hardly anybody.’

Giles waved all that away. ‘All the same, I don’t see why I should be responsible for supporting her,’ he said, but Richard could hear from his voice that he did. Their father had died suddenly, and Giles had inherited everything, including his debts, financial and moral.

‘As I understand it,’ Richard said casually, ‘she wants to support herself—’

‘By giving piano lessons?’

‘It’s a living,’ said Richard. ‘Modest, but it seems to be all she wants. She’s not asking for a pension, just a place to live and work. Papa had provided her with that.’

‘And I sold it,’ Giles said disconsolately. ‘Well, I can’t get it back.’

‘No,’ said Richard. ‘But she’d settle for less.’

Now Giles understood the remark about the piano. His eyebrows went up. ‘You want me to install her here ?’

‘Why not? It’s already paid for. And I can’t see you’ll have the chance very often to use it. Seems to me you’re keeping it for sentimental reasons.’

‘But here! In my rooms! A woman and her daughter. What on earth would people think?’

‘Why on earth should you care?’

‘When I’m in the middle of hunting for a wife? No, no, that won’t do.’

‘Look here, you need never meet her,’ Richard said.

‘I’ll sort it all out for you. I’ll talk to your Mrs Gateshill, spin her a good story, and if you never come here again, she’ll know there’s no funny business going on.

The Sands woman comes across as very respectable.

I’ll arrange for your personal belongings to be packed up and sent to the Castle.

Just give me the key. Oh, and some money to buy a piano.

How much would a decent upright cost, do you think? ’

‘I haven’t the least idea,’ Giles said. He felt disgruntled.

His bolt hole was being taken away, and he was fond of it.

But … Unease about his father’s mistress fidgeted him like grit in an omelette.

And now that he had talked about it with Richard, he felt he couldn’t back down.

After all, looked at dispassionately, it was the right thing to do.

‘Send the bill to Vogel, ask him for any money you need to cover expenses, and tell him the rent on the rooms is to be paid automatically. And I hope,’ he added, with a scowl, ‘that I’ll hear no more about any of this. ’

Richard grinned. ‘A simple “thank you” would be appropriate. I’m going to considerable trouble for you – and you know how I hate exerting myself.’

‘If you hadn’t got involved, I’d never have known about it, and so much the better,’ Giles said. But he didn’t sound convincing.

‘Have some more sherry,’ said Richard. ‘No sense in transporting a half-empty bottle all the way to the Castle.’

Lord and Lady Leven were friends of the King, some of the new sort of person he had favoured when he was Prince of Wales.

They were extremely rich and cultured. They had a large house in Portman Square, where they hosted an art exhibition every year.

It was held before the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition, and great names often lent their pictures ahead of it, knowing that the cream of society would be there.

The Levens had a long gallery at the top of the house, where the walls were crammed with paintings and drawings for the occasion.

A string quartet played quietly at one end, and trim servants circulated with champagne and the most delicious canapés.

Lady Manningtree, who cared nothing for art, thought that a gathering that served hors d’oeuvres without ever getting to the main meal was a sad excuse to save pennies, but it was always a very popular occasion and invitations were greatly prized.

‘And it’s better for your purposes,’ she told Giles. ‘At a dinner you can only talk to the girls on either side, and the hostess chooses them for you. At the Levens’, you can wander and mingle at will.’

So it proved. The atmosphere was easier than at a ball, and the usual fierce chaperonage was relaxed. Everyone moved between paintings at their own pace and according to their fancy, and discussing art was the perfect camouflage for flirtation.

Giles had had orders from his aunt to inspect two girls from further down her list – she had regretfully struck off the names of the Americans, as the Marquess of Rockport was aggressively courting one, and the other seemed to be favouring Lord Hornsea.

But Richard nudged his brother and guided him towards Miss Bayfield and Miss Sanderton, who were standing in front of an Alma-Tadema.

It depicted bowing maidens scattering rose petals before a bearded man robed in red and gold. Both girls seemed completely absorbed, but they glanced round as the men came up to them.