Chapter Fourteen

Miss Beaumont's courage lasted until they arrived at Louisa's house. The Duke's was faltering a little too. It was evening, and Louisa might well look askance at his arrival. It couldn't be helped.

A maid answered the door. Mrs Kentridge, wife to a country solicitor, lived in significantly less magnificence than had Miss Louisa Crosse, grand-daughter to Severn, but from all the Duke had seen, she was blissfully happy in her provincial surrounds.

‘Please tell Mrs Kentridge it is her cousin Sev,' the Duke said, hoping the maid wouldn't make the connection. She apparently did not, escorting him and Miss Beaumont in without much ceremony, and they waited in the drawing room until Louisa entered, wearing a very wary look.

‘Good eve—' she began, and then, ‘Sev! It is you! What on earth?'

‘Hello, Louisa.' The Duke jumped up and kissed her soundly on the cheek. ‘I told your maid your cousin Sev: did she not say so?'

‘She said exactly that, and I assumed she'd run mad. Is this to do with your absurd wager? Yes, I have heard all about it. But good heavens, I beg your pardon,' she added, casting an assessing eye over Miss Beaumont. ‘Sev, you will surely introduce your companion?'

‘Miss Eliza Beaumont, Mrs Louisa Kentridge.' The ladies exchanged bows. Miss Beaumont was now bright red. ‘Miss Beaumont is a friend of mine who has suffered a misfortune.'

‘Misfortune,' Louisa repeated.

‘Yes. In fact I have come to ask if she can stay.'

‘Stay . . . with us?'

‘With you.'

Louisa looked at her, then at him, and inhaled deeply. It was very like the way Uncle Hugo inhaled before explosion, and the Duke cut her off in some haste. ‘Pray listen. Miss Beaumont has been through a shocking time, and she is in grave need of help. I require a respectable matron of unimpeachable virtue to stand for her, and an excellent lawyer to fight for her. So I came here. She has been shockingly treated.'

‘I dare say. It is quite amazing how many pretty young ladies are shockingly treated and require the help of susceptible young men,' Louisa said, with a decided chill in her voice.

Miss Beaumont made a stifled noise. The Duke said, ‘Louisa, that is grossly unfair. You know very well that I am not susceptible, and you know nothing of Miss Beaumont at all. I quite agree this situation is unconventional but I am trying to make it conventional as quickly as possible, for the sake of a lady. I hope that you will help me.'

She did not look to be in helpful mood. ‘This seems scarcely appropriate.'

‘Indeed, it is not,' the Duke said. ‘But I am not bringing immorality into your house and I am sorry you should think that of me.'

‘I should not make any such accusation,' Louisa informed him loftily. ‘So what precisely are you bringing into my house?'

‘It's a long story which I shall tell you presently, but—' He needed the big guns. ‘Harum-scarum, Lou.'

It was the term they had used as children, the one that commanded utter loyalty in the teeth of authority. A call of Harum-scarum! obliged the hearer to tell barefaced lies (‘No, I have not seen Louisa anywhere. Is it really time for her piano lesson?'), or take any measure necessary to support the caller. Leo had invoked harum-scarum on the never-to-be-sufficiently-bemoaned-by-Uncle-Hugo occasion they'd decided it was necessary to walk round the complete span of the castle atop the battlements, and the Duke had even claimed it was his idea when retribution descended.

He had scarcely ever invoked it himself. Maybe it was time.

Louisa's lips had parted. She said, with concentrated force, ‘Brothers. You . Goodness me.'

‘Please,' Miss Beaumont said, with difficulty. ‘If Mrs Kentridge does not – does not wish to accommodate me—'

‘Not at all,' Louisa said swiftly. ‘No. I made a foolish assumption, and I beg your pardon. And it is certainly too late for you to go anywhere this evening.' She moved to ring the bell. ‘So I shall have a room made up, and you shall go upstairs and wash, Miss Beaumont, while my cousin explains to me exactly what is going on . Will you stay with us tonight, Sev?'

‘No, I shall take a room somewhere.' He had no intention of spending a night under the same roof as Miss Beaumont, for both their sakes.

‘You must at least remain for dinner. I shall send to the Star for a room for you.' A maid arrived: Louisa gave a series of orders that ended with Miss Beaumont being swept upstairs with a programme of tea, washing, and settling in. Louisa waited for the door to shut, turned to the Duke, and said, ‘Is this an elopement? Oh, Sev, is it a wedding?'

‘It is neither and I intend to keep it that way. Miss Beaumont has no interest in me—'

‘Fiddle.'

‘She's an heiress in her own right. Listen. You know about my wager with Leo?'

‘Of course. He is staying here too. He and Father have been arguing up hill and down dale, over the bet and his losses to that ghastly Sir James.'

‘Ah.' The Duke grimaced. ‘I hope he doesn't consider my calling on you to infringe the terms. I needed to do something with Miss Beaumont.'

‘Leo will do as he's told. I want to know everything, immediately.'

He explained the situation. Louisa had the quality, rare in the Crosse family, of being able to hear a story without undue interruption. She listened as the Duke outlined his travels, touching as lightly as possible on his travelling companion because he did not trust himself to talk about Daizell. He explained Miss Beaumont's predicament and actions very frankly, since Louisa should know what she might be getting into, and at the end she drew a long breath.

‘Good heavens, Sev. You have been going it.'

‘I know.'

‘No wonder you look exhausted. And you have taken Miss Beaumont under your wing because—?'

‘Someone had to. Could you have walked away, seeing her alone?'

‘Yes,' Louisa said crisply. ‘The little fool seems to have brought much of her trouble on herself, and encountered a great deal less than she might have, running around the country with men. I suppose she's an innocent: one would have to be, to be so very stupid.'

‘She isn't stupid. She's inexperienced, and she was facing the prospect of Sir James pressing his suit.'

‘True,' Louisa admitted. ‘Is he as vile as all that? Leo holds strong views on him, but then he owes the fellow a lot of money.'

‘Dreadful. He is a vicious swine who employs violent brutes and beats his horses unmercifully. I have no doubt he would beat his wife. But if he was the most virtuous man alive, she doesn't like him, and that should suffice.'

She nodded slowly. ‘You are a good man, Sev, and Miss Beaumont is fortunate. What do you intend?'

‘I'd like you to keep her. Perhaps give her some useful advice,' he added in the certain knowledge that Louisa wouldn't be able to stop herself. ‘If you felt able to say that she came directly to you from Vier's house—'

‘Are you asking me to lie, Your Grace?'

‘We could call it a benevolent deception if you prefer.'

‘I'll have to talk to Kentridge about that,' Louisa said. ‘What else?'

‘Kentridge's help. Miss Beaumont needs a lawyer who will prod her trustee into action, and take steps against Vier. Break the guardianship if possible, or at least keep her out of his clutches. I don't know what can be done, but he doubtless will, and he is welcome to use my name.'

‘That is liable to attract comment. Are you quite sure—'

‘Positive. She has no interest at all in marrying me, nor I her. Indeed, she would not have accepted my help if I had not assured her that it came without any expectation on my part or obligation on hers.'

‘Fiddle,' Louisa said again. ‘I don't wish to offend you, Sev, but one might see this as a well-woven trap, and you are a catch.'

‘I think you will find she's rather too straightforward for that,' the Duke said. ‘And she doesn't know who I am.'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘Hence the ‘cousin Sev'. She knows me as Mr Cassian, because of the bet, and I have not disabused her. I—'

He'd put yesterday's confrontation to the back of his mind for a little while, relieved to be concentrating on Miss Beaumont's woes and enjoying Louisa's company instead. Now his betrayal and Daizell's hurt came rushing back, with all the more force for having been briefly pent up. He swallowed. ‘I hid my name all the time. Lied to people.'

‘Sev?'

‘It's nothing. Nothing. I – It's been a peculiar time for me.'

She gave him a long examining look, and shook her head. ‘Bother Leo and his foolish wagers.'

‘Don't blame Leo. I wanted this and it has been . . . I would not have missed it for the world. With everything, I would not have missed it.' She was watching him, looking puzzled and a little concerned, and he forced a smile. ‘I have learned a great deal. Partly, I have learned that anonymity is a curse as well as a blessing, and now I shall have to tell Miss Beaumont I am a duke, which will be embarrassing.'

‘More so for her, I expect.'

‘Yes.' The Duke winced internally on Miss Beaumont's behalf. He was deeply glad she had spoken so frankly about her sentiments, or lack of them, towards him, but he suspected she might not feel the same. ‘Could we perhaps tell her after dinner? I should prefer her to be comfortable.'

‘She would not be more comfortable with me if I started by colluding to deceive her,' Louisa said. ‘For goodness' sake. Now, that sounds like Leo coming in. You may greet him, and at least wash before we dine because you may be anonymous but there is no need to look like the scaff and raff. I shall have Miss Beaumont down here for you to speak to after that.'

Dinner was a great deal more enjoyable than the Duke could have predicted. Leo greeted him with great good humour, and was easily persuaded, under his sister's quelling eye, to agree that this family dinner lay outside the terms of the wager. Miss Beaumont had been incredulous and horrified to learn of Mr Cassian's true identity, but she carried on bravely despite her natural mortification, aided by Leo's clear admiration. He was a tall, well-built man with a deal of charm, most unlike his titled cousin, and he chaffed the Duke about his deception in a way that soon had Miss Beaumont daring to giggle.

‘It does seem a quite extraordinary thing to be doing, Mr— Your Grace,' she said.

‘Severn,' the Duke said. That was a perfectly respectable mode of address for a family friend. ‘And perhaps it is a little odd—'

‘Absolutely absurd,' Louisa said. ‘You and Leo are nothing but a pair of schoolboys.'

‘I don't quite agree, my dear,' James Kentridge remarked. He was rather older than his wife, an intelligent man with a deceptively sleepy look. ‘As I understand it, Severn set out on his adventure with a purpose.'

‘I did.' The Duke caressed the ring with the pad of his thumb, checking it was there as he had done no more than fifty or sixty times that day. ‘I wanted experience of life which one cannot get from a castle window, or the Bow Window either. I wanted to encounter people and see how they saw me – as me, not as my position. I wanted to prove to myself that I could manage. I don't know if I have achieved that entirely. I have failed badly at some things. But I have certainly learned.'

‘To use the stage?' Leo asked.

‘To use the stage, to order my own meals and tend to my own belongings and to decide the course of my own days. That may not sound much to you, but then, you have not always been wrapped in lamb's wool.' He paused. ‘Also, I escaped from kidnappers.'

That created a suitable effect: in fact, Leo choked on a mouthful of wine. The Duke told the story, eliciting gasps and laughs in a very satisfactory manner. Possibly he had learned a little from the evenings in the Green Lion. Miss Beaumont seemed entirely unsurprised by his account of the men Sir James had sent after her, but Leo grew red with fury on both her and the Duke's behalf.

‘The man is a dashed villain,' he said. ‘A villain, I say. To send the sort of beasts who would manhandle Miss Beaumont—'

‘And who did manhandle Severn,' Louisa said. ‘I trust you intend to repay that, Sev?'

‘I do, yes,' the Duke said. ‘Mostly by removing Miss Beaumont and her wealth from his grasp. Kentridge, I hope you will be able to act for me there?'

‘I can certainly speak to your lawyers in London. And I know George Boyson, Miss Beaumont's trustee, slightly,' Kentridge said. ‘He is disinclined to take trouble on himself, but I expect he might be persuaded that your displeasure is potentially more troublesome than Vier's.'

‘Do tell him that. I shall be happy to make it good.'

‘Absolutely right. Vier must not be allowed to get hold of Miss Beaumont again,' Leo said. ‘I won't have it.'

‘You are so very kind, Mr Crosse,' Miss Beaumont said, cheeks pinking, apparently unaware that the Duke and Mr Kentridge would be doing all the work.

‘It sounds as though Sir James is as malevolent as Leo has said,' Louisa remarked. ‘Why did your father put you in his hands, Miss Beaumont?'

‘My father wasn't terribly pleasant either. They were business partners. And Sir James can be charming, and plausible.'

Leo snorted disbelief. Louisa, ever sisterly, remarked, ‘Well, he persuaded you to play with him. Repeatedly.'

‘Oh, I hope you did not,' Miss Beaumont said. ‘He cheats.'

Every head turned to her. ‘I beg your pardon?' the Duke said.

‘Sir James cheats at cards. At whist, at least. He has a system with his friend Sir Francis Plath. I hope you weren't playing with them, Mr Crosse?'

‘They played as partners,' Leo said grimly. ‘When you say cheat —'

‘They have a way of signalling what cards they have, and want the other to play. If he says "gentlemen" before they start, he's saying he is strong in hearts – that is, has good cards or a lot of them,' she glossed helpfully, ‘and "trifle" indicates strong in diamonds. So he might say "excuse me, gentlemen, a trifling cough" or "let me not trifle further, gentlemen" and both of them mean that he has hearts and diamonds. "Come", as in "come, your card" or "will you come to dinner tomorrow?" means he wants Plath to lead a spade, but if he says "Plath" with it, it means to play a low spade. That sort of thing. It has to be very subtle, so as not to be obvious when they do it. I have heard them rehearse it.'

Leo was going purple. Mr Kentridge said, ‘Really? That is exceedingly interesting.'

‘ Interesting?' Leo exploded. ‘ It's bl— blasted disgraceful!'

‘Yes,' said Kentridge. ‘Do you think you could write down everything you recall of his system, Miss Beaumont? And, Leo, not a word of this. No posting back to London to confront him. Don't tell anyone at all.'

Leo blinked at his formidable brother-in-law. ‘What? Of course we must.'

‘I think Kentridge means, keep quiet until the right time,' the Duke said.

Kentridge gave him an approving nod. ‘This may be an opportunity. A weapon, even. But he must not be alerted too soon. Does he know you know about this, Miss Beaumont?'

‘I don't think so. I was eavesdropping,' she said frankly. ‘One had to in that horrid house.'

‘We will consider the matter well before we act,' Kentridge said. ‘The first concern must be to extricate Miss Beaumont from Vier's guardianship. She should, I think, stay here, as Severn has suggested. I shall go down to London to put matters in motion. If Vier is capable of sending bravos after her, it might be best if Leo also stays in my absence.'

‘It would be my privilege,' Leo told Miss Beaumont.

‘We shall cut our cloth depending on what I can find out. As to the matter of cheating, we shall keep it in hand, and consider when best to strike.'

‘Goodness me, Kentridge,' Louisa said, with a curl in her voice. ‘How ruthless.'

‘What about you, Sev?' Leo asked, evidently reluctant to observe his sister making eyes at her husband.

‘I'm not going to act until Kentridge has had a chance to get the lie of the legal land,' the Duke said. ‘Meanwhile I have some ten days to go on our wager—'

‘Oh, nonsense,' Leo said, in chorus with Louisa. ‘You must see this is more important. I absolve you.'

‘You will do no such thing. It is a wager, and I want to complete it. And, really, this is best not in my hands. I don't greatly want Vier to find out that I was directly responsible for aiding his ward's flight, or abetting the deception of a vicar—'

‘Of a what?' Louisa demanded.

‘Oh, but that wasn't you. It was Mr Charnage,' Miss Beaumont said.

‘Charnage?' Leo repeated.

He couldn't avoid it any longer. ‘That's right. A gentleman I travelled with for a while.'

‘Which Charnage? Because as far as I know, of the men of that name—'

‘Daizell.'

‘You cannot mean that.' Leo sounded distressingly like his father. ‘Are you serious?'

‘No relation of George Charnage, I hope?' Louisa put in.

‘His son.'

‘ What?! '

‘Sev, you've gone mad,' Leo said bluntly. ‘Daizell Charnage? Travelling with you ? For the Lord's sake, man! It's one thing not to be high in the instep, but—'

‘He is not responsible for his father's crime. It is a great shame he has been punished for it.'

‘He was very kind and pleasant,' Miss Beaumont offered, looking from face to face.

‘Oh, pleasant, absolutely,' Leo said. ‘Very likeable fellow. Nevertheless—'

‘No, not nevertheless .' The Duke could feel his cheeks heating. ‘Daizell cannot be blamed for what his father did.'

‘Oh, yes he can. The sins of the fathers are visited on the children, like it or not,' Louisa said. ‘And as I understand it, he's done plenty of his own accord. Was there not an elopement?'

‘That was me,' Miss Beaumont said meekly, looking at her plate. ‘But it was not his fault, precisely.'

‘It was a complicated situation,' the Duke said. ‘And half of what is said about him is Vier's spite, which comes back to what George Charnage did.'

‘He was unquestionably running a gaming ring at Eton,' Leo said. ‘I should know; he cleaned me out twice. Honestly, Sev, there is adventure and there is mere recklessness. What are the chances he recognised you? What will you do if he goes around claiming a close friendship with you? If he uses your name or turns up at Staplow, presuming on your acquaintance?'

‘I should be very glad to welcome him to Staplow.' Under the cover of the table, the Duke was twisting his napkin, tighter and tighter. ‘He is my friend .'

‘For pity's sake. I can see you have been living it up on your holiday and I always liked Charnage, and I dare say it isn't fair, but life is not fair. Severn cannot be friends with his sort and that is all there is to it.'

‘Perhaps Severn can't,' the Duke agreed with a dry mouth. ‘As with all the many things that Severn must and must not do. I understand they matter. But do I not matter? I cannot be Severn all the time, only doing what Severn does and behaving as Severn must, with no life of my own that is not Severn. I will die in there.'

Louisa frowned. ‘Are you all right, Sev?'

‘I've no idea what you mean,' Leo said briskly. ‘The fact is, you have your position and you have its obligations, and can you imagine what Father would say, knowing you were associating with George Charnage's son, giving him countenance? Still, he won't let the fellow set foot in Staplow so I dare say there's no great harm done.'

The Duke stared at his plate. Then he looked up.

‘Remind me,' he said. ‘Who is the Duke of Severn?'

Louisa and Leo exchanged glances. Louisa said, ‘Sev—'

‘Who?'

‘You,' Leo said. ‘Of course. But—'

‘Who is master at Staplow?'

Leo tried for a joke. ‘Well, that's a tricky—'

‘Who?' the Duke shouted, and saw his cousin recoil. ‘By God, I will not have this! Constant dictation of what the Duke may do, and how, and who with – I will decide what I do, and make my friends as I please! Who the devil are you to tell me otherwise? If people don't like my choice of friends, they may set themselves outside my acquaintance, and if the family don't like my guests in my house, they are not obliged to live there! I will have no more of this accursed trammelling. I am a grown man, and the obligations and duties of my station do not extend to having my friends selected for me! How dare you tell me who I may care for?'

He was standing, fists planted on the tablecloth. He wasn't sure when he'd got up. Leo and Louisa were both bright red. Kentridge watched with interest. Miss Beaumont's eyes were wide.

‘And I will tell you this,' the Duke added furiously. ‘Daizell Charnage has been unfairly maligned, and I will not have it. If he has my countenance – and he does, because he is my friend – then any man who chooses to abuse or to cut him on his father's account offends Severn. I shall make that known, and we will see how the sheep of the Polite World behave when the dog barks!'

He stopped there, for lack of anything else to say, heart pounding. He'd never in his life lost his temper so comprehensively or shouted so much.

Leo's mouth was set tight. ‘I must beg Your Grace's pardon for any offence I have given.'

‘Shut up, you fool,' his sister hissed.

The Duke looked between them, and quite suddenly could not bear any more. ‘I apologise for raising my voice, but – you must understand – it is not tolerable. I will not tolerate it. I think I should go; I have some way to travel tomorrow. I hope I can safely leave Miss Beaumont with you?'

‘Of course,' Louisa said. ‘Take whatever time you need, Sev. I hope we will see you soon.'

The Duke nodded to them all, and walked out. As he left, Leo started to speak. Louisa told him to shut up again.

The Duke set off for Coventry the next morning, in a curricle hired at the best livery stable Leamington Spa had to offer, drawn by the fastest pair they could provide. Be damned to the bet; he'd learned the hard way how difficult it was to track a man down once you no longer had his trail.

He was going to find Daizell. He was going to apologise – fully, humbly, as he should have done at the time. And he was going to offer all the power at his disposal to end the ostracism that Daizell had suffered for his miserable parents and Sir James Vier's spite, along with the odd indiscretion that was really no worse than anyone else's. He'd do that whether Daizell wanted any more of him or not, because it was right.

That vow, and the pleasure of driving himself in a well-sprung conveyance at a satisfactory speed, carried him all the way to the Green Lion in Coventry, where Forster the landlord seemed unexcited to see him, and suggested he might want to leave. Cassian felt warmly towards him for his defence of Daizell, but had no intention of taking the dismissal.

‘I need to know where Daizell went,' he repeated politely. ‘It is important I find him.'

‘Look, mate, your quarrels aren't my business—'

‘No, they are not. Answer me, please.'

Possibly the landlord saw something in his face, because he said, ‘He headed south. Went to meet Martin at the Rose and Crown in Leamington.'

Where Cassian had just come from. Marvellous. He changed horses and headed back, cursing Martin Nichols – why was Daizell travelling with that blasted man? – and fate, and mostly himself.

At the Rose and Crown, he learned that he had missed Daizell by some thirty-six hours. He and Nichols had taken the coach towards Worcester. Cassian took this news with as much grace as he could, considering he seemed to be fated to drive in circles. He was going to find Daizell, and he was going to apologise if it was the last thing he did.

Two days later, he broke the journey at the March Hare in Broughton Hackett. He hoped only to get some sort of lead there before arriving in Worcester. Instead, he walked into the inn, and straight into John Martin.

‘You!' Cassian said.

‘Oh God.' Martin sounded exhausted, and looked it too, his eyes dark-ringed. ‘Look, sir, Your Grace, if you're planning to have me arrested—'

‘I don't care about you. Where is Daizell?'

Martin opened his mouth, hesitated, and considered him for a moment. ‘What for?'

‘Because I want to talk to him.'

‘What do you intend by him?'

‘That's none of your affair.'

‘Hurt or help?' Martin demanded. They were having this conversation in a passageway, in low voices. It was probably indiscreet. Cassian didn't care. ‘Because you've given him quite enough hurt, and if you mean more – well, which is it?'

‘I want to speak to him, and I mean him no harm, and—' He had no desire to reveal anything to Martin, considering, but the man was defending Daizell. The Duke had a momentary mental image of Daizell taking comfort in his old lover's arms, and quashed it. If he'd driven Daizell to that, it was his own fault. ‘I need to apologise. I hope he will hear me. Maybe he won't but that is his choice, not yours.' He held Martin's gaze. ‘If he doesn't want to speak to me, I'll leave.'

Martin examined his face a moment longer. ‘And what if he needs help? Would you act for him, Your Grace, or is it more important to stay incognito?'

His tone was aggressive, but there was something raw in it and Cassian's spine prickled. ‘What do you mean, help? What's happened? Is something wrong?'

‘You might say so. He's in gaol.'