The Riddle of the Reluctant Rake Page 3

  “You, you, you!” interposed Lady Caroline fiercely. “All you ever think of is your precious career, Hudson! What of Shand, I ask you? What of me? The Dowager had at long last agreed to remove to the dower house and give us the mansion on Grosvenor Street. Now, she won’t even let us in the front door for fear we should be recognized by some of her cronies! You’re not the only one to be hurt, brother dear!”

  And so it went, one family member after another, all voicing their fury and frustration, while Adair stood pale and silent, letting the storm break over him until a new voice rang out:

  “If you are all done with bemoaning your fates, perhaps we may hear what Hastings has to say.”

  Through the immediate silence every eye turned to the white-haired old gentleman who stood tall and proud in the open doorway, the epitome of a British General of the Army. The men who were seated rose at once, and the Viscount hurried to welcome his father-in-law.

  General Chatteris gripped his hand, then turned to Hastings. “Well?”

  “I’d not intended to intrude on my father, but he summoned me. I am sorrier than I can say to have caused you all such distress and humiliation, but I had hoped—” Hastings paused, then said rather wistfully, “I had hoped someone might have asked me—whether I was guilty, and—”

  Lady Esterwood leaned forward. “Do you deny it, then?”

  “I believe I am innocent, Mama. I cannot prove it. At the moment. But … it would have been nice if one or two of you could have stood by me. It seems that only my cousin Minerva—”

  “Minerva!” exclaimed the Viscount with contempt. “The girl has not two brains to rub together, and as for that nincompoop she means to wed, she’ll be fortunate if even a merchant’s son don’t draw back now!”

  “If you are all finished then,” said the General, “I—as head of the family—will close this unfortunate chapter in our history.” He turned to his daughter as a murmur of discontent reached his ears. “What was that, Andrea?”

  Lady Esterwood flushed but said boldly, “I think you heard me, Papa, but I’ll not retract. From the time Hastings was a small boy you were determined to control his life. You took him out of Eton and had him tutored. If he had been allowed to go to Oxford as I wished, instead of being packed off to the Royal Military Academy, we might not now be facing utter social ruin and humiliation!”

  “Is that a fact, my lady?” said her sire awfully. “I interfered with your plans for the boy because it was plain you were going to turn him into a stuffy pedantical snob—as you did with his brother! I’m sorry, Hudson, you’re a good fellow, but there it is. Hastings had the makings of a fighting man, and all the qualities of a fine officer. And as for Oxford … if only half the tales I’ve heard about that milquetoast factory are truth—!” He broke off, glared at young Nigel, who was staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment, then went on quickly, “Furthermore, madam, I’ll remind you that Hastings Chatteris Adair was not conceived by you alone, but that your husband had a hand—er, a role to play!”

  “Papa!” exclaimed my lady, red-faced and scandalized and all too aware of the grins on several faces.

  “That’s who I am,” agreed the General. “And it’s my hand holds the purse-strings! Your mighty husband the Viscount has the sense to know which side his bread is buttered on—which is more than you do, Andrea, so hold your tongue!” He turned his fierce gaze from his fuming daughter to his quiet grandson. “As for you, Hastings, you must be aware that from the start of this shameful business we have all met regularly and discussed in great depth what steps might become necessary. Frankly, we did not expect things to turn out in this particular way. It now is of the first importance to try and restore the family honour which you have so sadly tarnished. To that end, it is desirable that you leave the country as soon as may be. And change your name. We will make arrangements for you to take ship to the Americas as soon as a berth is available.” He drew a paper from his pocket. “I have here a bank draft that you can draw on in the interim. A generous sum will be left with the ship’s purser in your name. The same amount will be sent to you quarterly for as long as you need funds.”

  “Provided,” put in the Viscount with glacial emphasis, “that you never again use your real name or make any attempt to contact us or return to England.”

  “Do you understand?” snapped the General.

  Hastings had stared blankly at the old gentleman throughout this terrible verdict. Now he turned and looked slowly around at these people he had thought he knew, but who might have been so many strangers, glaring at him with such merciless condemnation and contempt. Nigel looked positively murderous, and only in the eyes of his clerical Uncle Taylor, and Uncle Fergus, who was probably half lushy, did he think to find a glimmer of compassion.

  “Answer me,” demanded his grandfather harshly.

  Hastings knew how much he had shamed them; he’d known they would be furious, and he had been prepared for scorn and recriminations. He had not expected this. Stunned, he had to struggle to keep his voice steady. “I understand that—that I am being disowned, sir. That I am to become a—a ‘remittance man.’ Isn’t that the term for banished and pensioned off family pariahs?”

  “What would you?” asked the General, his own eyes briefly pleading.

  Suddenly, Hastings’ chin tossed upward. It was a gesture that would have drawn a grin from Field Marshal Lord Wellington. It was familiar to Lord Esterwood also, who said hurriedly, “He has no right to—”

  He was too late.

  Hastings’ voice rang out sharp and clear. “I would know whether the collective rage of my family has been visited on me because I violated an innocent young girl and disobeyed orders—or because my disgrace was made public before it could be swept under the rug, and may therefore interfere with your social prestige and—”

  The rest of his remark was drowned in an explosion of wrath. White with rage, the Viscount snarled, “That will do, sir! How dare you take such a tone with me?” The puffy red face of Samuel Chatteris became a puffy purple face as he roared that Hastings Adair was “a conscienceless young roué and a libertine!” Fergus Adair sprang to unsteady feet and almost fell down as he staggered about and howled incoherencies; and Major Roger Adair had to be restrained by his nephew Hudson and his clerical brother-in-law from making good his threat to knock down “the young rogue.”

  “Enough!” thundered the General. “Do you want the servants to hear us washing our dirty linen?” It was a reminder to daunt them all, and when quiet was restored, he added grittily, “I could respect you more, Hastings, was that proud head of yours lowered, and your disgraceful conduct repented, which I see no sign of! I warn you that you have gone your length with this family.”

  “I understand, sir.” Hastings bowed. “Good day, ladies … gentlemen.” His back very straight, and his hands tight-clenched to hide their trembling, he walked to the door.

  Hudson Adair called, “Hey! You forgot the bank draft.”

  Hastings said, “Oh, no. But I thank you all for the offer.”

  Nigel ran to lean back against the door and demand wildly, “What have you done with her, you damned villain? Where—”

  “That’s enough out of you, boy!” snapped the General. “If you cannot conduct yourself like a gentleman in front of ladies, then hold your tongue!”

  Appalled, Hastings reached out to grasp the arm of this brother who had always been closest to his heart. “Nigel—for God’s sake, try to believe—”

  Nigel beat Hastings’ hand away as if it burned him. “Like hell I will!” he said, a sob in his voice.

  “Go!” roared the General.

  Nigel wrenched the door open and ran out.

  Taylor Chatteris said sadly, “Poor lad. He’s taking it hard. But Hudson is right, Hastings. You must have funds.”

  Adair tried not to recall the anguish in Nigel’s eyes. “You are very good, Uncle,” he said. “But I have funds of my own. And I cannot take the General’s money under false
pretences.”

  This sinister remark caused them to come crowding around him.

  “What d’ye mean—‘false pretences’?”

  “You want more lettuce, is that it?”

  “We’ve told you our terms!”

  He nodded. “You have.” His voice hardened. “Now, I’ll tell you mine.” He ignored the Major’s sputtered “The confounded insolence of it!” and went on: “I intend no disrespect. The General, my parents—all of you have my sincere gratitude for making my life—up to now—pleasant and rewarding. However, whatever you believe, I love my country and I have not the least intent to leave it. Never fear, as far as possible I’ll keep out of the public eye.”

  Hudson said uneasily, “But—deuce take it, you’ll be a marked man wherever you go! What will you do?”

  “God willing, prove my innocence!”

  Hastings left them as they all began to shout at once.

  Back in his suite, he poured himself a glass of Madeira and then sat on the bed staring at it. He shouldn’t have spoken to his elders with such disrespect … especially with Mama and Caroline in the room … If only they’d not all railed at him so. But how could he blame them? He’d brought disgrace down on them, and they were such a deuced proud lot. He smiled mirthlessly. As he was himself. Well, he’d just have to make things right. Somehow. Lord only knew how. And at this moment he could scarcely think, he was so desperately tired. The bed was inviting. Perhaps he could have a brief rest before he left. But that was out of the question. If he delayed, his outraged family might detain him and have him packed off to the Americas by force.

  He finished the Madeira and was reaching for his riding crop when someone scratched on the door. His nerves jerked tight. He couldn’t take much more bitterness and anger. Sighing, he stood and swung his cloak about his shoulders. “Yes?”

  The door opened and Mrs. Redditch’s angular face came into view. The housekeeper’s stern exterior hid a very fond heart, but perhaps she condemned him too. He said with a rueful smile, “Hello, Reddy.”

  “Oh—Colonel,” she gulped, and pressed a handkerchief to her lips.

  “My ‘colonel’ days are past, I’m afraid. What can I do for you?”

  She dried her eyes ferociously. “It’s about Burslem,” she managed. “Miss Minerva says I must let her go, because she made a rude remark about you. But—but she has no family, sir, and she’s honest and a hard worker. Without a good character, I don’t know what would become of her. It was indeed unforgivable for her to say such a thing, but I thought—if she were to come and apologize…?” Her dark eyes searched his face.

  “Burslem” must be the maid who had voiced her opinion of him on the stairs. He thought of the apologies he himself had tendered today, and of how they’d been received. “All right. Bring her in.”

  Burslem’s square face was white where it was not reddened from weeping. She looked to be nearing forty; a big-boned, coarse-featured woman, who tore at her very creased apron and kept her gaze on Adair’s boots. The housekeeper nudged her and told her to “speak up,” and she said hoarsely, “Oh, sir, I’m very very sorry, sir, that I said that there rudeness. I got no right ter say a thing like that, I know. Nor I don’t ’spect you’ll forgive, but—but I do begs you, Colonel, ter give me another chance. I won’t never do such a thing ’gain. I promises faithful.”

  Mrs. Redditch watched Adair anxiously.

  He asked, “Do you believe I am guilty, Burslem?”

  “Oh, no, sir! Cross me heart and hopes ter die, I never—”

  “Because,” he interrupted, “if you really believed me guilty of those crimes—especially concerning the young lady—you would be quite justified in such an opinion. Indeed, if I thought anyone had behaved in such a disgraceful fashion, I’d not hesitate to condemn them.”

  She looked at him uncertainly. “Is you saying, sir, as you done it, and I were right ter say what I did?”

  He smiled. “No. I’m saying that if you believed I had done it, then you would be wrong to condone such behaviour. Though, it isn’t always wise, you know, to be quite so—er, outspoken.”

  She looked from him to the housekeeper. “Is I forgived then, Mrs. Redditch?”

  The housekeeper said. “I think you may stay, Burslem. Is that all right, sir?”

  He nodded. “But don’t start crying again, please.”

  Burslem’s already tearful eyes had brimmed over. She bobbed a curtsy, mumbled, “Thank ye, sir. Oh—thank yer! An’—an’—Gawd bless yer, sir.”

  He called to her when she reached the door, and she swung around, watching him fearfully. “Will you try to believe I didn’t do it?” he asked.

  She nodded, beaming through her tears, then, dashing them away with her apron, was gone.

  Adair turned to the housekeeper. “Will you try to believe it also, Reddy?”

  “Certainly not, Master Hastings! Since I never believed any of it in the first place! In fact—” Mrs. Redditch’s words ended in a faint scream as she was swept up and whirled around and a smacking kiss was pressed on her blushing cheek.

  3

  “The thing is,” said Toby Broderick, handing Adair a glass of Cognac and peering at him uneasily, “how could anyone have known you were coming here?”

  It had been late afternoon by the time Adair’s immediate necessities were packed and loaded into a hackney coach. He’d said his farewells to the tearful housekeeper and those members of the staff who had gathered to wish him well, and he’d started down the front steps, determined not to slink away via the back door. A last look at the great house that had been “home” all his life had revealed his brother Hudson watching from a drawing-room window. There had been a frown on the handsome features, but to his astonishment this man who had probably suffered the most because of his notoriety and disgrace, had raised a hand—not quite in a wave perhaps, but more than he’d hoped for. He’d gone then to the livery stables to retrieve his horse. Despite his name, Toreador was too gentle a creature to be exposed to the battlefield, so he’d been left in England to be exercised by Nigel during his owner’s military absences. The big dapple-grey greeted Adair with affection and after a mutually fond reunion Adair had ridden him beside the coach. There had been no trouble until they’d approached Vespa House, where Broderick was staying. As they’d turned the corner onto the quiet London square, Toreador had given a snort of fright and danced sideways, and in that same instant a brick had come flying at Adair’s head. He’d managed to keep his seat when the brick had struck him a glancing blow, and luckily, he had sustained nothing worse than a painful lump, but, as the outraged jarvey had said, if it had landed squarely he’d never have met up with his friend—not in this world, anyway!

  Pondering, he answered slowly, “Nobody knew I was coming here. I hadn’t really decided to take advantage of your kind offer until I left my father’s house.”

  “Then you must have been followed.” Broderick settled himself into one of the fireside chairs in the luxurious drawing room and leaned back comfortably. “London’s a mad place, but people don’t trot about heaving bricks at all and sundry on the spur of the moment. Did you see the lout?”

  Adair shook his head, then regretted it. “I caught a glimpse of a shabby fellow running like the wind. Only saw his back. But I’ll go bail I wasn’t followed. I was prepared for a possible display of public anger against me, and kept my eyes open. There was no one within fifty yards of me when I turned the corner.”

  Broderick eyed him sceptically and thought he looked too exhausted to have been able to see for five yards, much less fifty. He said, “In that case, you were recognized hereabouts by some nasty tempered rabble-rouser who hid in the trees or down some area steps. Only answer, dear boy.”

  “I was recognized by some rabble-rouser who didn’t expect to see me,” said Adair ironically, “but who chanced to have a brick tucked into his pocket, just in case.”

  “All right, then. What do you think?”

  Adair’s h
ead was throbbing and he was finding it hard to think at all. He said wearily, “Those who know me well would also know that if I was no longer welcome at my parents’ house I’d be less welcome at my club. A logical guess would be that I’d turn to a friend. You and Jack Vespa are friends who’d likely stand by me, and Vespa’s not using his Town house just now.”

  “Ergo—a lucky guess,” muttered Broderick. “But—you’ve other friends who’d help out, my dear fellow.”

  “Perhaps”—Adair stifled a yawn—“perhaps there were brick-carrying louts watching their houses as well. It’s jolly good of you to let me camp here for a spell, Toby. You’re sure Vespa won’t mind?”

  “Lord, no. Jack won’t live here, y’know. He keeps the house open for his mama, but she’s down at Richmond for the month. Jack told Manderville and me that we could stay here whenever we pleased, so long as it didn’t inconvenience Lady Vespa.”

  “It’s a jolly fine house. I only hope my occupancy doesn’t bring a brick or two through the windows.”

  “Deuce take it, I hadn’t thought of that! I simply must break myself of this foolish habit of collecting notorious friends! No, I mean after all, Manderville’s known to be a rascal; Vespa’s father damn near swindled the government and went about murdering anyone who got in his way; and now look—a Lieutenant Colonel who’s persona non grata from the Hebrides to Guernsey! Dreadful!”

  Adair smiled wryly. “I suppose I must get used to it. Being ambushed, I mean. The devil’s in it that I can’t blame people.”

  “The trouble is that ambushes are so blasted hard to guard against,” said Broderick, looking grave. “Well, you’ve only to glance at history, haven’t you? Of all people, one would think Julius Caesar would have had the sense to protect himself—fella was a genius, no doubt of that. But having irritated people by wanting to be declared a god, what must he do but go swaggering back to the Senate and then wonder why he was done away with! And look at poor Königsmark—dallied with a prince’s wife, and—”