Chapter 14

I approached the West family town house well before noon, telling myself that I was being discreet, though I also wanted to return to the Hall and offer Tait my disappointing report. I was haunted by the sense that I’d missed relevant details, that a pattern had eluded my notice—an important pattern that might reveal to me just what had become of Mrs. Evelyn Tait.

I longed to discuss the whole mess with Hyperia, though I’d forbidden myself that boon.

“Good day, my lord,” Deering said as I came in from the misty drizzle. “One hadn’t heard you were back in Town.”

“I’m once again on my way to the Hall, though I’d thought I’d…” Raised voices caught my ear, coming from the direction of the music room.

“Perhaps my lord would like a cup of tea in the formal parlor?” Which lay at the opposite end of the corridor from the music room.

Healy West’s voice was loud enough that every word came to us clearly. “You lark about with a disgraced traitor, flout my authority as the head of your family, and refuse to conduct yourself in a seemly manner. I won’t have it, Hyperia. The time has come for you to marry and marry properly.”

I stalked down the corridor, Deering trailing behind me. He made a grab for my arm as I marched through the music room door, but declined to follow me into the lion’s den.

Hyperia sat at the piano bench, facing her brother rather than the keyboard. A Beethoven sonata, black notes filling the page, lay open on the music rack. My dear Perry was paler than I’d ever seen her, while Healy was on his feet, attired for riding and looking choleric.

“You,” I said, advancing on him, “will apologize to your sister this instant.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Caldicott, and how dare you tell me how to act under my own roof?”

“Somebody had best sort you out, because Hyperia has better things to do than humor a fool and a bully in the person of her own brother.”

Hyperia rose, hand on the piano. “Julian, good day.” Her voice shook, and that nearly inspired me to throttle her idiot sibling.

I closed the door, though Deering, to his credit, had fled the scene. “I mean it, West. You apologize to the lady now. If Bell Montefort is blackmailing you, you won’t solve that by offering him your sister’s unwilling hand in matrimony.”

Hyperia bent over as if she’d taken a blow to the middle, and I caught her about the waist and led her to the sofa.

“Julian, what can you be…” She subsided onto the cushions. “Healy, what is Julian talking about?”

I stayed by Hyperia’s side rather than risk allowing myself within pugilism range of Healy. “I haven’t heard an apology yet.”

“How can you possibly know about Montefort?” West said, some of the ire leaking out of him. “I’ve been discreet. Bell promised he’d keep his mouth shut if…”

Puzzle pieces snapped together in my mind. “He’d keep his mouth shut, if you bankrupted yourself meeting his blackmail demands. Now that he’s bled you dry, he wants Hyperia’s settlements. You, having a modicum of fraternal decency—a dust mote’s worth—realized that Hyperia ought to at least have the security of marriage if her portion was to be stolen from her, lest she be forced to enjoy penury at your worthless side.”

West took up a heroic pose by the great harp, resting his forehead against the elaborate carving of the crown, his hand on the pillar as if for support.

“I killed Gaylord Montefort. I am at Bell’s mercy. If I have spoken harshly, Hyperia, it’s because I am a man in extremis.”

Oh, for the love of bunglers in breeches. “You are a clodpate who owes his sister better than that.” How I longed to leave a muddy boot print on those tight chamois breeches and on his stupid, selfish soul.

“Very well.” He pushed away from the harp and stood straight. “Hyperia, I am sorry for words spoken in anger. I should not have addressed you thus, and it won’t happen again.” He was trying for sincerity, proof of some sort of self-preservation instinct.

“I would not marry Bell Montefort,” Hyperia said in a low, ashy voice, “if he were on bended knee, possessed of a fortune, sober, and begging me. I would leave the country first, and so you should have left the country if what you say is true. This was a duel, I take it?”

Healy stared straight ahead at nothing. “A matter of honor. Fate did not favor my opponent. No more need be said.”

“A great deal more needs to be said,” I snapped. “Hyperia, might I be seated?”

She patted the place beside her, and some of my anxiety receded. My lady was regaining her balance, though I still wanted to kick Healy and aim a fist at his gut too.

Before Healy could launch a lament about his cruel fate and Montefort’s rapaciousness and other farragoes of self-serving fantasy and stray facts, I posed the pertinent question.

“Who is managing the Montefort family affairs these days?”

Healy looked at me as if I’d asked who had taken the throne after Good King Aethelbald. “I beg your pardon?”

“Who manages the Montefort family affairs? Who meets with their solicitors? Upon whom are the bankers calling?”

“Bell has the reins,” Hyperia said. “I’ve heard his mother complaining that he’s not as generous with pin money as Gaylord was.”

“What has that to do with anything?” Healy asked.

“Where is Gaylord buried?” I asked.

Healy looked truly baffled. “In the family crypt, I presume. The Monteforts bide in Kent, not far from Canterbury.”

“So you’ve made discreet inquiries of their vicar? Had a look at the parish registry of births and deaths? Asked the sexton if you could quietly pay your respects?”

Healy scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re saying Gaylord isn’t dead? He went off to the Continent after the… after the incident. He might have expired on the packet or in Calais or Paris. I have no idea where he was when he went to his reward.”

Hyperia stated the obvious, that exercise apparently being necessary for her brother’s benefit. “You made no effort to disprove Bell’s claim—none whatsoever—before you emptied the family coffers into his lap. When Gaylord eventually came skipping home from France, I would still be married to his criminal of a brother, penniless, and likely with child to that… that walking disgrace. Healy, I understand pride, but you have been unforgivably rash and stupid.”

“Gaylord has gone to his reward,” Healy said, chin jutting. “I am a dead shot, and I saw the blood.”

“The blood on his arm?” I asked pleasantly. “Where you might have grazed him while he was busy deloping, because that was his only honorable course after you refused his apology and took drunken mumblings for a dire insult?”

“You are not a dead shot, Brother,” Hyperia said tiredly. “You are a profound disappointment.”

Healy pushed away from the harp. “I was thinking of you, Hyperia. Devising a way for you to hold your head up, to have a roof over that head. I met Gaylord Montefort on the field of honor and behaved according to the applicable rules. He left the country and then expired, to the best of my knowledge. I am dealing with the consequences of my actions as best I can.”

Hyperia stood as well, and I took the place at her side. “Then you should be committed to a facility that looks after the legally incompetent, Healy. You could have written to Cousin Penelope in Paris and asked if Gaylord Montefort had been seen socializing. You could have kept your damned hands off my settlements. You could have told me what was afoot. At every turn, you behaved with the myopic self-interest of a spoiled brat. If Julian hadn’t come along today, you would have forged my signature on settlements that parted me from my freedom and my inheritance. If you ever think to act on my behalf again, Healy, I will disown you and let all of Mayfair know why. Get out of my sight.”

“You don’t mean that,” Healy said, taking a step toward his sister.

“Julian, please make him go away.”

Gladly.I caught Healy’s right wrist, spun him by the shoulder, and jerked his hand up to the middle of his back. He was stumbling into the corridor before he could get off a single curse. I closed the door behind him and regarded a very upset, very dear lady whose worst fears had nearly come true.

* * *

“Is Gaylord Montefort alive?” Hyperia asked, subsiding onto the sofa. “Healy is a fool, but I hope not a murderous fool.”

She wasn’t patting the place beside her, so I remained on my feet. “Healy reacted badly to remarks made over a hand of cards. I suspect the hour was late and the libation excessive. He then refused Gaylord Montefort’s apology. Montefort deloped, and Healy shot to kill. I have this from an eyewitness whom I would trust with my life. Foolishness of that magnitude has resulted in many a death.”

And not a few public hangings. Battle nerves were setting in, or after-battle nerves. If I’d left Town without looking in on Hyperia, if I’d let Healy’s rudeness to me interfere with my attachment to her…

“Please do sit,” Hyperia said. “I’d ring for tea, except I’m likely to smash the whole service to bits in my present mood.”

I resumed the place at her side and took her hand. “Would he truly have forged your signature?”

“Yes. He said as much yesterday, and today when I told him I had some shopping to do, he denied me the use of the coach and said I wasn’t to leave the premises until I’d seen reason. The footmen were apparently ordered not to let me out of the house and have been giving me worried looks all morning. I think even Healy knew not to involve Deering in such measures.”

I should have rung Healy’s bell so hard he didn’t wake up for a week. “You had a plan?”

“I would have left by the kitchen steps in the dead of night, made my way to Caldicott House, and sent a pigeon to the Hall. A special license takes a few days to obtain, and I would have relied upon you to stop the foolishness.”

Not a bad plan, assuming the dead of night on a London street hadn’t ended in disaster, assuming the pigeon fulfilled its birdy office, assuming Healy didn’t already have that special license.

“Marry me,” I said, wondering where in the hell such a pathetic excuse for a proposal had come from. “Please, marry me. I nearly did not stop by this morning, Perry. I told myself the roads out to Sussex will be mucky, and I shouldn’t be dithering about in Town. I told myself not to annoy your idiot brother, who is still deeply in debt and less trustworthy than a London pickpocket.”

I went on, feeling more than a little unnerved. “Then I told myself that I had given you my word not to leave Town without paying a call, though that was last time, but I did not know when I might see you again, and I missed you, so perhaps I might consider that my promise was given to you in the general case, and then I was knocking on your door and overhearing a shocking breach of fraternal duty.”

Hyperia did not laugh at my offer—at my babbling. I took courage from that.

“Marry you.” She considered our joined hands. “If I were to marry anybody, it would be you, but, Jules… We are upset, we are angry, we are…”

“We are the best of friends, we are attracted to each other, we are of age, and I love you.” And yet, Perry was right too: The circumstances did not lend themselves to clear thinking, and I was in a blithering panic at what Healy had nearly inflicted on the sister he was honor-bound to protect.

“Marriage cannot be undone,” Hyperia said slowly. “You know how I feel about children, and I know you long for them.”

“Do I? Or do I long to be the disgraced brother who saved the ducal title by virtue of imposing progeny on my wife? I’m not sure myself, Perry, but if Healy had forced you to the altar with that vile buffoon, I would not answer for the consequences.”

“I might have done something drastic to foil that plan. I would not have spoken those vows.”

I put the rest of the battle plan into her possession, not that she wouldn’t figure it out herself soon enough.

“To save Healy’s life, even to save his good name, you would have spoken those vows and been a dutiful wife. You would have put up with whatever indignities and dangers Montefort imposed on you.”

A gust of rain pelted the windows while Hyperia leaned into me. “Hold me, Jules. Please, just…”

I wrapped my arms around her, and she held me too.

“After a battle,” I said, some moment later, “camp was eerily silent, save for the infirmary, where all was moaning and shouting and rushing about. Men would sit and stare, or they’d polish a spotless weapon over and over. The enlisted men would get quietly drunk simply to find some oblivion. The aftermath is harder than the fight in some ways, because you can never erase the stain of that battle from your soul.”

The killing, the wounding, the fury, the fear… Boxing all that up in a neat little mental square where it couldn’t touch any other memories or present realities took time and effort. Repeated effort, for me at least.

“Healy is my brother, Jules. He put me in harm’s way, lied to me, tried to steal from me…”

“This explains why he would not show his face at the Makepeace house party,” I said, resting my cheek against Hyperia’s hair. “He was afraid to move about in society lest he stir up talk about the duel, afraid to twist Bell’s tail by leaving Town for even a fortnight.”

“And I thought Healy was considering a run for the House of Commons.”

Even the lower house didn’t deserve a bumbler of Healy’s rare distinction. “I suggest you meet with the solicitors yourself, Perry. I will happily accompany you, or I’m sure Lady Ophelia will serve as your rear guard. Find out first hand where the family finances stand. If you haven’t done so already, move whatever funds you personally command to Wentworth’s bank. Wentworth will guard your money as ferociously as Cerberus guards the gates of hell.”

Hyperia was quiet in my embrace, and holding her helped soothe my nerves. She’d had a plan for foiling her brother’s lunacy, and the law forbade a woman to be married against her will. Still, she’d been ambushed and betrayed, and I would not be easy in my mind until I knew she was safe.

“Is Gaylord dead?” she asked, sitting back and keeping hold of my hand.

“I very much doubt it. Your solicitors can inquire of the Montefort solicitors. It’s possible that Gaylord has gone to his reward, but in that event, his will likely made direct provisions for his mothers and sisters. They would doubtless have had funds of their own, though perhaps held in trust, with Bell as one of the trustees. Bell would also have come into a considerable sum and have no need to blackmail Healy. Blackmail is a hanging felony, after all. Even Bell Montefort wouldn’t undertake it lightly.”

I’d personally remind Montefort of the standard punishment for convicted blackmailers.

“Healy never learned to think along such logical lines,” Hyperia murmured. “If Mrs. Montefort is complaining about limited pin money, then Gaylord is likely alive. If Bell is roaringly flush, then Gaylord is likely dead. Logical conclusions, but just as Healy made no effort to prove Gaylord dead, my brilliant brother could not parse out the logic in the details. If only he’d told me… but no, of course not. He expects me to accompany him to a musicale tonight, Julian, and I cannot imagine how I will bear to share a coach with him.”

“The mother of all megrims has befallen you, perhaps, or you might consider returning to Caldicott Hall with me.”

She sat forward and regarded me over her shoulder. “You escorted me up to Town. I don’t see how escorting me back to the Hall would cause any greater scandal.”

It would cause no scandal at all if we were engaged.I knew better than to press that argument.

“I will send a note to the Montefort solicitors,” I said, “asking if Bell enjoys the authority to act as his brother’s power of attorney. I will imply that I am in anticipation of some business dealings with the Montefort junior scion, and that as the Duke of Waltham’s prospective representative, I am exercising caution in all business matters.”

“What does a power of attorney have to do with anything?”

This much at least had come clear to me on last night’s journey from Berkshire. “If Bell holds Gaylord’s power of attorney, the document is worthless unless Gaylord yet lives. The delegation of authority lapses irrevocably upon the principal’s death.” Hence, every officer serving under Wellington had been required to make a valid, witnessed will, not simply leave a power of attorney with a brother or uncle. “If Bell has no power of attorney…”

“Then Gaylord is dead of a certainty,” Hyperia said slowly, “because the solicitors would not permit family funds to be expended without some proper authority in Bell’s hands, by will, trust, bequest, or something of the sort. Send that note, Julian, by all means.”

“You’ll get packing?”

“I shall, and,”—she wrapped my hand in both of hers—“thank you, Julian. Matters were growing dire, and I was so shocked, so bewildered… I will never scoff at another Gothic novel. Healy has been keeping this imbroglio to himself for months, and if he’d only confided in me, I might have prevented much foolishness.”

“How?”

She rose and regarded me. “Firstly, by confiding in you, of course.” She let that salvo reverberate in my conscience for a moment, then headed for the door. “I’ll meet you in the mews in thirty minutes. Feel free to use the library if you want to pen your epistle to the solicitors before we leave Town.” She halted with her hand on the latch. “I love you too, Julian. Very much.”

Not a complete rout, then, and she hadn’t turned down my proposal out of hand either.

* * *

I blew a kiss to the door Hyperia had left half open and took myself to the library, where I made use of paper, pen, sealing wax, and my signet ring. I put the requisite communication into Deering’s keeping and found Healy at the escritoire in the family parlor, also attempting some correspondence.

“Hyperia will return to Caldicott Hall with me,” I said, “and I have asked for her hand in marriage.”

He sanded his epistle. “Did she accept?”

“She is considering my offer, which—might I remind you—comes from a ducal heir who is quite solvent and who was also mentioned favorably in Wellington’s dispatches.” I closed the door and took the decanter sitting at Healy’s elbow back to the sideboard.

“I’ll give you leave to court her, if that’s what you’re after.”

I’d just removed a figurative noose from about Healy West’s finances, if not his neck and his good name, and he yet maintained pretensions to a position of authority over his sister.

“Your approval,” I said evenly, “your opinion, your smallest passing comment on any undertaking of your sister’s is of no moment whatsoever, nor will it ever be. If Bell Monforte would blackmail you into betraying your sister, what sort of husband do you think he’d have made?”

Healy finished his drink and rose. “Half of polite society finds themselves in unhappy unions. Hyperia’s the resilient sort. She’d have managed. She always does.” He ambled over to the sideboard as if intent on a refill.

Foolish of him to come that close to me.

I applied my fist to his jaw, not hard enough to dislocate anything serious, save for Healy’s pride. He had the sense not to attempt a retaliation.

“I deserved that,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I’ve been an idiot.”

“We are all idiots at some point or other,” I said. “I followed my brother into the night, broke a standing order to do it, and possibly got him killed in the process. The issue for you, West, is how to make amends. Your sister doesn’t feel safe under your roof, and she is an eminently sensible woman.”

He moved his jaw from side to side. “I never meant… I suppose that’s all water under the bridge. Will you permit me to attend the nuptials? People will talk otherwise, and I’m so bloody tired of worrying about talk.”

I sympathized, very reluctantly and only a little. “Here is what you need to do. Right now, immediately, send a note to the solicitors explaining that an accurate accounting of the family’s finances is to be made available to Hyperia, who will likely share it with me. You will inform her when the solicitors have confirmed their understanding of your direction.”

“She’s good with numbers. Does all the household books. I’m not drowning, but another month of Bell’s demands, and I would have had to mortgage something.”

If Healy had avoided mortgages thus far, the situation was salvageable. “You will remind Bell Montefort that his scurrilous behavior with General Harcourt’s daughter could soon become common knowledge in the better clubs. Nobody was sad to see Montefort all but drummed out of the regiment, and every former officer will amplify the tale if it gets loose in Mayfair.”

Healy sank back into the seat behind the desk. “Blackmail the blackmailer?”

“It’s not blackmail if you ask for nothing in return for your silence. You will merely be making Montefort aware that you have been put in possession of certain facts.”

“I want my money back.”

How could this bleating dolt be any relation to my dear Perry? “I want many things I will never have, West. Montefort doubtless put nothing to you in writing and invariably insisted that you pay him in cash or fungibles—a blooded colt, jewels, a Caravaggio landscape. Proving that he’s a felon will be nearly impossible.”

Though Montefort was a successful felon, suggesting Healy was not his first victim.

“For God’s sake, Caldicott. Why can’t I destroy the bounder’s reputation? He’s the one who suggested marriage to Hyperia.”

I marshaled my patience and acquired some sympathy for the drill sergeants responsible for turning an infamous army into an effective fighting force.

“You cannot engage in a battle of insults and accusations, West, because you have a sister to consider. Montefort could involve you in another duel, for starts, and even winging his brother qualifies as assault with intent to maim, if not attempted murder. Cut your losses, make an orderly retreat, and hope that, someday, Hyperia forgives you.”

I wasn’t sure I ever would. As I waited in the mews for Hyperia, I reflected that Healy’s folly, immense as it had been, had also given me an opportunity to act as Hyperia’s champion, rather than as her lover or friend. A husband had uses, in other words, even to a lady determined to safeguard her freedom and her health.

I assisted Hyperia into the coach, took the place beside her on the forward-facing bench, and considered whether I ought to obtain a special license, strictly in an abundance of caution.

But… no. Not without consulting Perry first. From her perspective, Healy’s worst transgression had been a failure to confide in her, and I was—to the limited extent of the Tait investigation—guilty of the same behavior.

As we rattled over the cobbles and headed for the first turnpike, the rain started coming down in earnest. This was fortunate, because the racket made conversation difficult, and Hyperia did not appear to be in the mood for more talk.