fire, doused the lamp and went upstairs to bed. It should have been easy to put the matter out of her head but for some reason the memory of the encounter—the memory of Marcus Trevithick—still lingered as she lay in her bed. She told herself that she had seen the last of him, but some unnerving instinct told her that she had not. Then she told herself that she did not wish to see him again and the same all-knowing voice in her head told her that she lied.
Chapter Two
‘A gambler, a wastrel, a rake and a vagabond!’ the Dowager Viscountess of Trevithick said triumphantly, ticking the words off on her fingers.
There was a short silence around the Trevithick breakfast table. The autumn sun shone through the long windows and sparkled on the silver. There were only three places set; one of Marcus’s married sisters was coming up from the country for the little Season but had not yet arrived, and the other had gone to stay with friends for a few weeks. Only Marcus, his youngest sister Eleanor and the Dowager Viscountess were therefore in residence at Trevithick House.
‘A vagabond, Mama?’ Marcus enquired politely. ‘What is the justification for that?’
He thought he heard a smothered giggle and looked round to see Eleanor hastily applying herself to her toast. Although she appeared to be the demurest of debutantes on the surface, Marcus knew that his sister had a strong sense of humour. It was a relief to know that the Viscountess had not crushed it all out of her during Marcus’s years abroad.
‘Traipsing around the courts of Europe!’ the Viscountess said, giving her son a baleful glare from her cold grey eyes. ‘Drifting from one country to another like a refugee…’
Marcus folded up his newspaper with an irritable rustle. He had a headache that morning, no doubt from the brandy that he and Justin had consumed the night before, and Lady Trevithick’s animadversions on his character were not helping. In fact, he was surprised that she had not added drunkard to the list.
‘I scarce think that a diplomatic mission accompanying Lord Easterhouse to Austria constitutes vagabondage, Mama,’ he observed coolly. ‘Your other charges, however, may be justified—’
‘Oh, Marcus, you are scarcely a wastrel!’ Eleanor protested sweetly. Her brown eyes sparkled. ‘Why, since your return from abroad I have heard Mr Gower say that the estates are already better managed—’
‘Enough from you, miss!’ the Dowager Viscountess snapped, chewing heavily on her bread roll. ‘You are altogether too quick with your opinions! We shall never find a husband for you! As well try to find a wife for your brother! Why, Lady Hutton was saying only the other day that her Maria would be the perfect bride for Trevithick were it not that Hutton would worry to give her into the care of someone with so sadly unsteady a character! So there is no prospect of that fifty thousand pounds coming into the family!’
Marcus sighed. It was difficult enough having a parent who was so frank in her criticism without her holding the view that he was still in short coats. How Eleanor tolerated it, he could not imagine. He knew that if he had been in her shoes he would have taken the first man who offered, just to escape Lady Trevithick. Marcus was also aware that his friendship with Justin did not help either. The Dowager Viscountess had never got over her disapproval of her nephew and barely acknowledged him in public, a sign of displeasure that Justin cheerfully ignored. Families, Marcus thought, could be damnably difficult.
As if in response to that very thought, Penn, the butler, strode into the room.
‘Mr Justin Trevithick is without, my lord, and enquiring for you. Shall I show him in?’
Marcus grinned. ‘By all means, Penn! And pray send someone to set another cover—my cousin may not yet have partaken of breakfast!’
The Dowager grunted and hauled her massive bulk from the chair. ‘I have some letters to write and will be in the library. There is the possibility that Dexter’s daughter may be a suitable wife for you, Marcus, but I have some further enquiries to make!’
‘Well, pray do not hurry on my account, Mama!’ Marcus said cheerfully, gaining himself another glare from his parent and a covert smile from his sister. ‘Miss Dexter would need to be very rich indeed to tempt me!’
‘Marcus, you make her much worse!’ Eleanor whispered, as the Dowager Viscountess left the room. ‘If you could only ignore her!’
‘That would be difficult!’ Marcus said drily. ‘I curse the day she appointed herself my matchmaker!’ His expression softened as it rested on his sister. ‘How you tolerate it, infant, I shall never know!’
Eleanor shook her head but did not speak and, a second later, Justin Trevithick came into the room. He shook Marcus’s hand and gave Eleanor a kiss.
‘Eleanor! I’m glad that Lady Trevithick did not whisk you away—’
The door opened. ‘Her ladyship requests that you join her in the library, Miss Eleanor,’ Penn said, in sonorous tones. ‘Lord Prideaux has called and is with her.’
Eleanor gave her cousin and brother a speaking glance, then dutifully followed Penn out of the room. Marcus gestured towards the coffee pot. ‘Can I offer you breakfast, Justin? And my apologies for my mother’s transparently bad manners at the same time?’
Justin laughed. ‘Thank you. I will take breakfast—and for the rest, please do not regard it! The only thing that concerns me is that Lady Trevithick considers Prideaux more suitable company for Eleanor than myself! He is a loose fish, but then, I suppose his parents were at least respectably married!’
‘So were yours,’ Marcus commented.
‘Yes, but only after I was born!’ Justin leant over and poured some coffee. ‘How do you feel this morning, old fellow? Must confess my head’s splitting! That brandy was nowhere near the quality it pretended!’
‘The coffee will help,’ Marcus said absently, reflecting that the brandy had proved to be the opposite of his mysterious adversary of the previous night. She had been Quality masquerading as something else and today he was determined to get to the bottom of that particular mystery. He had told Justin an expurgated version of the whole tale the previous night over the maligned brandy bottle, and his cousin had been as curious as he as to the lady’s motives. Justin had been closer to the fifth Earl than Marcus because their grandfather had taken Justin up deliberately to spite his elder son, but despite his far greater knowledge of the old man’s estates and fortune, he could throw no light on why anyone would want the island of Fairhaven.
The door opened for a third time as Penn came in. ‘Mr Gower is here to see you, my lord. He says that it is most urgent.’
Marcus frowned, checking the clock on the marble mantelpiece. It was very early for a call from his man of business, but if Gower had managed to find him rooms well away from Albemarle Street, then the earlier the better. Remembering the previous night, his frown deepened. There was another reason why Gower might have called, of course…
‘Thank you, Penn, I will join Mr Gower in the study shortly,’ he said.
The door closed noiselessly as Penn trod away to impart the message. Justin buttered another roll. ‘Shall I wait here for you, Marcus, or do you prefer to join me at White’s later?’
Marcus stood up. ‘Why don’t you come with me to see Gower?’ he suggested. ‘I have the strangest suspicion that this relates to the business last night,
