A Sister's Secret Read online

  ‘Only middle-class doors, marm. A retired cavalry officer don’t count for much in higher circles.’

  ‘I am to assume, sir, that you live by fleecing the middle classes?’ she said.

  ‘Fleecing?’ Captain Burnside smiled, and she thought yes, he might very well charm some women in much the same way Lord Clarence had. ‘Impossible, marm. The middle classes – tradesmen, merchants and the like – have come by what they own through being industrious, inventive and shrewd. They ain’t inclined to part easily with their gains. One must become a family friend, win their confidence, sweeten their wives and charm their daughters – ah, and then borrow from the dear young ladies.’

  ‘And then disappear?’ said Caroline with undisguised contempt.

  ‘I make it a rule, d’you see, never to turn up for a wedding,’ said Captain Burnside with disarming frankness.

  ‘Sir?’ She was not disarmed, not by any means, and she regarded him with frank dislike. Painful experience had made her despise men of his kind. ‘Do you say, sir, that you actually propose to innocent and trusting girls, and then make off with such monies as you’ve been able to wheedle out of them?’

  ‘Not monies, marm,’ said Captain Burnside affably. ‘Few daughters of the middle classes are able to lay their hands on the family dibs. But some own a little jewellery.’

  Caroline’s contempt was of a freezing kind. ‘Am I to understand, sir, that having deceived a young lady into believing you’ll marry her, you are then blackguard enough to decamp with her heirlooms?’

  ‘But don’t you see, marm, it’s far better for any of ’em to lose a few trinkets than to acquire a husband as worthless as myself. I’d be their ruination, and in faith I can’t marry ’em all. But I will say that if the doors of prime society were open to me, I’d gladly marry an heiress and cling most devotedly to her and her wealth.’

  Icily, she said, ‘I expected to have to deal with an unprincipled rogue, sir, but I did not expect an out-and-out scoundrel.’

  Captain Burnside looked pained. ‘Marm, I’m a professional,’ he said.

  ‘You are also despicable.’

  ‘True, I ain’t precisely angelic …’

  ‘Be quiet, sir.’ She rose to her feet and swept to the window to collect herself, and the sunlight kissed her partly visible bosom with pale gold. She reflected on whether or not she should reject this man, as she was inclined to. But if she let her intense dislike of him discount his suitability, what was left? Interviews with a succession of other rogues, all just as unlikeable, as they were bound to be. It was an impossible venture she had in mind, perhaps, but she could think of no other way to deal with two problems, the problem of her sister’s dangerous infatuation with the Duke of Cumberland, and the problem of a dear friend’s appalling indiscretion. Such matters were not of a kind to disclose to other friends. In London, one’s closest friends talked. The town was a hotbed of gossip. She must put her faith in her father-in-law’s recommendation. Without that recommendation she might already have sent Captain Burnside packing. Yet he had the manners and the airs of a gentleman, and he was also a British cavalry officer – retired. He was a Redcoat. Her sister, like their Aunt Marigold, had an eye for Redcoats. When Sir Henry Clinton and his staff quartered themselves in Charleston during the War of Independence, Aunt Marigold had decked herself out in irresistible fashion for one of Clinton’s handsomest officers, so the family said. And when the British departed, Aunt Marigold went with them, together with other young and infatuated Southern belles. Aunt Marigold had married her officer in New York, and they now owned a plantation in Georgia, where they enjoyed a contented middle-aged existence.

  Caroline reflected further. Perhaps, yes, perhaps she must make do with Captain Burnside. She turned to him. He smiled.

  ‘Marm?’ he said.

  ‘I detest deceivers,’ she said.

  ‘The natural feelings of any lady,’ he said. ‘However, I never stipulate that a patron should like me.’

  ‘I declare, sir, you have an impudence I do not care for,’ she retorted. ‘But you may suit my purpose, and I’d not want to interview further scallywags. Now, sir, make up your mind you are to obey me from the outset, and in a manner that will give me no offence. You are to conduct yourself at all times like a gentleman, especially as it will be necessary for you and I to give the impression we are old friends.’

  ‘Be assured, marm, that things shall look precisely as you require,’ said the urbane captain. ‘As a gentleman, I shall be faultless, for while I’m no prince or even a baron, I can conduct myself as if I were.’

  ‘Conduct yourself modestly, sir, and not conceitedly,’ she said, as imperious as if she had been born of the nobility. She did not intend to relinquish command of their relationship, either now or at any time. ‘I’m compelled, I vow, to put my trust in you.’

  ‘You’ll not be disappointed, marm.’

  ‘If I am, you shall not receive a cent, sir, a penny,’ she said. ‘Listen carefully. First, I am not Mrs Carmichael. I am Lady Clarence Percival, widow of Lord Clarence Percival.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Captain Burnside, and looked suitably impressed.

  ‘You may discard at once, sir, any thought that as a widow I’m a woman of a helpless kind, for I am not.’

  ‘Be assured, marm, I’ve never met any woman who could be called helpless,’ said Captain Burnside fervently. ‘The dear creatures have many subtleties, and can plant the sharpest barbs in Lucifer himself.’

  Caroline glanced sharply at him. There were some people to whom Cumberland was known as Lucifer.

  ‘To whom are you referring?’ she asked.

  ‘Why, the devil, marm.’

  ‘Well, sir,’ she said, ‘in this venture you may meet him. But do me the civility, please, of not alluding to my sex as dear creatures. We are not zoological specimens, waiting to be fed sugary buns.’

  ‘Indeed you ain’t, marm, none of you,’ said the captain warmly.

  ‘Now, sir,’ she said, ‘I have faced many problems and resolved them all myself. I come of brave and spirited stock. However, on this occasion, I confess I need help. I am commissioning you to give that help.’

  ‘Pray proceed, Your Ladyship,’ said Captain Burnside.

  She proceeded. He listened.

  Chapter Two

  There was a twofold problem, said Lady Caroline. The first concerned her sister Annabelle, who had arrived in London several months ago. Annabelle was twenty, and a little while before sailing for England she had broken her long-standing engagement to a Charleston gentleman. She said she did not love him enough. Her parents, though shocked, were understanding, and helped her to escape biting tongues and acid gossip by letting her go to England for a while. She was accompanied on the voyage by a relative who had business to conduct in London and Manchester.

  Once in London, she was received by Caroline with delight and affection. She confessed then that she had broken her engagement because she was fearful of being bored to death by her would-be husband. Caroline not only sympathized with her, she complimented Annabelle on being wise enough not to marry a man unsuited to her. Alas, it was not wisdom in its essence, it was the headstrong act of a vivacious young lady who envied her sister her sophisticated life in London. And once there herself, she was completely captivated by the excitements of its social calendar and the gallantries of the Corinthians. These sporting rakes devoted much of their time to pugilism and horse-racing. When in their presence, Annabelle’s eyes were constantly dazzled by their gleaming Hessian boots, thigh-clasping pantaloons and colourful coats.

  She proved even more impressionable at twenty than Caroline had been at eighteen. Received at court, she met a personage of royal rank who quizzed her with a dark and devious eye. He was by no means the most handsome personage of the day, but on the other hand he was so impressive of character and so majestic of bearing that he was a danger to any young lady whose demeanour was that of a breathless, fluttering butterfly. The butterfly, mesmeriz
ed, was ready to fly dizzily into the net.

  Caroline, aghast, endeavoured to send her back home. Annabelle would have none of it, and Caroline recognized an infatuation potentially more ruinous than her own had been. She knew her parents expected her to take care of Annabelle, to become the watchful chaperone, and to guard her until such time as the emotions and repercussions of the broken engagement had died their death.

  Annabelle was only a few weeks away from her twenty-first birthday. At her coming of age she would undoubtedly regard herself as free to do exactly as she liked. She was sweet and engaging, but wilful. Impending degradation loomed in front of her, for the man in question would not hesitate to seduce her and, later, discard her. As a virgin, she would be an amusement to him, no more.

  ‘You are speaking, marm, of the royal personage?’ enquired Captain Burnside.

  ‘I am,’ said Caroline, and went on to say that despite being royal he was not a gentleman. The august personage would not himself have agreed with this, for he believed no shame could attach to blood royals, however immoral their pursuits. Her infatuated sister, quite overwhelmed by his attentions, imagined herself becoming the love of his life. She was deaf to what the whole of London could have told her: that she would never be more than just another brief pleasure to him. She was incapable of believing a royal duke could be a villain. Yet he patently was.

  ‘Regrettably, marm,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘ladies do have a weakness for villains. My own devious blandishments have, alas, secured the affections of several sweet innocents. In moments of remorse, I’ve confessed myself unworthy to more than one of them, but without causing any to recoil. Indeed, to be told of my failings only made them declare a loving wish to help me reform.’

  Remembering her own weakness for Lord Clarence, and how she had ignored her father’s words of caution, Caroline bit her lip.

  ‘Innocence, sir, is a tender and susceptible thing,’ she said, ‘and the deviousness of designing men to be held in much contempt. However, pray allow me to continue …’ And she went on to say that her sister Annabelle must be detached from the man who would almost certainly seduce her. She must become infatuated with another, and in such a way that she would be cured of her feelings for Cumberland.

  Captain Burnside raised dark eyebrows. ‘Cumberland, marm?’ he enquired.

  ‘That is the man, sir, the Duke of Cumberland himself.’

  ‘Your sister, marm, has indeed set her sights dangerously high,’ said the captain. ‘Cumberland will take her in his own time, play with her, toy with her, and leave her to her own devices once she’s with child.’

  Caroline stiffened. ‘I would rather you used your tongue less disgracefully, sir,’ she said coldly. ‘I do not care to have you comment on the consequences of immoral intimacies between Cumberland and my sister.’

  ‘But the unhappy possibility exists, marm.’

  ‘Then it is a possibility you must remove, sir, or does the mention of Cumberland intimidate you?’

  ‘Cumberland is a dark shadow in a thousand corridors, marm, but no, I am not intimidated.’ Captain Burnside smiled. ‘I ain’t as much in his way as his elder brothers are.’

  ‘His elder brothers?’ Caroline took serious note of that remark. ‘What is this, sir – an imputation that Cumberland wishes himself the only son of the King?’

  ‘He ain’t said so to me, marm. I merely made an observation. Favour me by continuing with that which is relevant to my commission.’

  Caroline, casting from her mind the unbearable image of Annabelle enceinte by reason of Cumberland’s lust, said firmly, ‘I am engaging you, Captain Burnside, for the purpose of freeing my sister from her attachment to the duke. His arms have not yet closed about her, but they will, and perhaps as soon as she is twenty-one. In her giddiness at coming of age, she will be at her most foolish. I require you, therefore, to prevent this by inducing her to transfer her affections to you.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Captain Burnside.

  ‘Since you are infamously successful as a ladies’ man, you should not find that too difficult, I presume? You have the gifts of a virtuoso, have you not?’ Lady Caroline was ironic but hopeful. ‘Much as I detest the thought of my sister transferring her infatuation from a royal libertine to a conscienceless blackguard, I shall nevertheless endure it for her sake. You are following me, sir?’ Her green eyes searched his musing grey.

  ‘I am, perhaps, a little ahead of you,’ he said. ‘Ah – is your sister of independent means? Comfortably possessed?’

  Her eyes became a little fiery. ‘Sir?’ she said warningly.

  ‘I ain’t disposed to fleece her, marm, nor leave her in tears. If she owns sufficient of the ready or has excellent prospects, then once I’ve won her sweet affections I’ll not be averse to marrying her.’

  ‘Marrying her?’ Caroline flamed. ‘My sister? You?’

  ‘Well, d’you see, marm,’ said the captain reasonably, ‘I fancy that, in detaching her from Cumberland, I may become so much the object of her affections that she’ll conceive expectations.’

  ‘Dear Lord of mercy,’ breathed Caroline, ‘I vow I have never known such a scoundrel, nor one with so much love for himself. Under no circumstances, none whatever, are you to entertain the idea of marrying my sister.’

  ‘Well, there may be tears, marm …’

  ‘So there may, sir, but sooner tears than shameful disgrace. Attend on me, Captain Burnside, and take note that, if you succeed in this matter, you will at once return to the disreputable environment you no doubt inhabit. I will look to my sister and any tears she may shed concerning your disappearance. You will give Annabelle the attentiveness and consideration of a gentleman throughout, practising your deception as forgivably as you can, and then depart honourably, as I require you to and will pay you to. You will say, perhaps, that your regiment has called on you for active service abroad. That is as honourable as can be contrived, I suggest.’

  ‘Quite so, marm; all shall be as you wish,’ said Captain Burnside.

  ‘And now, sir, to the second part of your commission. This also concerns the Duke of Cumberland.’

  ‘The devil it does,’ murmured the captain. ‘The man’s a pervasive darkness.’

  ‘He has a letter,’ said Caroline.

  ‘Damn me, there’s—’

  ‘Sir?’ she said freezingly.

  ‘Humble apologies, Your Ladyship. But I was going to say there’s always a letter lurking somewhere or other. Who is the dear and unfortunate lady?’

  ‘Do not anticipate me, Captain Burnside, or attempt to take the dialogue out of my mouth. The lady in question is my dearest friend, Lady Hester Russell. The letter is of pale blue parchment and the wax seal, although broken by now, is stamped with a crest appertaining to a swan. Cumberland is using it to command Lady Russell’s obedience.’

  ‘Obedience?’

  Caroline showed distaste. ‘Obedience to his demands, Captain Burnside. I am sure you know precisely what I mean. Cumberland has the devil’s own way of bringing the most reluctant woman to a bed. Lady Russell, at a country house party for a week, with her husband and other guests, had the misfortune to see her husband take a tumble that broke his leg. Incapacitated, he was placed in a ground-floor room to rest and recuperate. Lady Russell, alone in her bedroom that night, woke up to find Cumberland beside her.’

  ‘Say no more, marm,’ said the captain considerately. ‘I quite understand. Ravishment, alas, and yet the sweet weakness of yielding. And so, no doubt, illicit passion was born and indiscreet billets-doux began to spring from the wanton heart. Poor woman.’

  ‘Pray curb your vivid imagination,’ said Caroline. ‘Lady Russell has no wanton heart. Ravished, yes, but much against her will.’ Her lashes flickered. ‘Cumberland is all of capable of such a thing. She might have cried out, might have called for help, but there was her husband, sick and suffering with a broken leg in uncomfortable splints. It was not a moment to make her shame known. Further, it was Cumberland she wo
uld have had to denounce, and, though he would not have given a fig for it, I vow he would have paid her out in a most unpretty fashion.’

  ‘And so she yielded,’ said the captain.

  ‘Only in shame and anguish, sir.’

  ‘Quite so, marm.’

  Caroline frowned. ‘You are cynical, sir?’ she said.

  ‘Experienced,’ said the captain.

  ‘In ravishment?’ she enquired coldly.

  ‘In my observation of human weakness,’ smiled the captain.

  Caroline frowned again. The truth was of a shaming kind, according to Hester herself. In desperation and tears she had confessed all to Caroline. Cumberland had indeed ravished her, despite her resistance, a resistance weakened by the circumstances and perhaps, yes, perhaps by the magnetic quality of the man. Hester had blushed vividly in confessing this, in confessing all that had led to her eventual submission, and Caroline remembered all too clearly how Cumberland had attempted to bring her to bed at Great Wivenden. Hester said that after her shameful submission she had begged Cumberland to leave, but he had stayed, he had shared her bed until dawn. Much to her further shame, instead of doing the only obvious thing – slipping from the bed herself and going down to keep her suffering husband company by sleeping in a chair beside him – she had allowed Cumberland to stay and had stayed herself. He took full advantage of this and further ravishment took place during the night, and she was horrified by the extent of her submission. Worse, she conceived a carnal passion for him, a passion that was a quite unspeakable consequence of her shameful night. She became his mistress, his infatuated mistress.

  ‘Yes, weakness did exist,’ said Caroline, returning to the subject after her long, reflective pause, ‘and I vow it a despairing thing in such a sweet woman as Lady Russell. She did conceive a passion for Cumberland. Myself, I should have conceived only a desire to strike the man dead.’

  ‘We are at the point, marm,’ said Captain Burnside, ‘where I may assume Cumberland has a revealing letter of hers and uses it to bring her to his bed from time to time?’