Lady Margaret's Mystery Gentleman Page 2

  Jakes raised an eyebrow. ‘You are fortunate that your family accepts a bastard son at all, much less is willing to lie for him.’

  ‘I doubt my father would approve of their lying for me,’ David said with a shrug. ‘But what he does not know will not hurt him. I appealed to his daughters, who were thrilled at the chance to involve themselves in my investigation. They find it a novelty to read my articles in the paper. They also told me that there is no chance Scofield will ask my father directly about the matter, since the two do not speak. In Father’s opinion, Scofield is a scoundrel who deserves whatever justice might come to him.’

  Jakes eyed him thoughtfully. ‘And I suppose it would be to your advantage if your father learned that you had delivered said justice.’

  David shrugged. ‘The thought had occurred to me.’ He did not precisely want to curry favour with a man who’d had little use for him since his conception. But neither was he so foolish as to refuse the man’s approval, should he finally manage to get it.

  Jakes continued. ‘If I agree to this, it is on the understanding that, if it fails, as it is likely to do, I never gave you permission or encouragement. I will not let your vendetta tarnish the reputation of this newspaper.’

  ‘If it fails, which it will not, I doubt you will have to worry about your reputation,’ David said with another grin. ‘You are imagining he will take you to court. I think it is far more likely that if Scofield realises I am investigating him, I will be found in the same condition as my friend, floating dead in a river somewhere.’

  ‘Then I promise your obituary will be a whole column long,’ Jakes said with a smile.

  ‘I couldn’t ask for anything more than that,’ David replied.

  Chapter Two

  It took only a day before David had the opportunity to test his plan. His answer to the advertisement was met almost immediately with a letter inviting him for an interview at the Scofield town house.

  To prepare, he slicked back his hair with Macassar and put on his shiniest pantaloons and a suit coat that was so tight he could barely raise his arms. The reflection that looked back from the mirror was that of a man more concerned with his clothes than the women he taught. To complete the disguise, he affected a broad Italian accent, since it was often thought that Continentals were better dancers. More important than that, a different nationality would distance him from the current social set, should Scofield think him familiar. He doubted that the Duke would recognise him, for they seldom frequented the same places and had never been introduced. But it would be the height of foolishness to assume the peer’s ignorance, simply because he wished it to be true. If David was recognised, his investigation would be over before it started.

  Now that he faced Scofield in person, he was afraid his disguise would not be enough. The Duke was looking at him as though he could see past his appearance and into his soul. Perhaps, as a man of great power, he had come to expect that others were not always as they seemed. He greeted David with a prolonged silence and another penetrating stare. The combination was probably enough to make a weaker soul confess deception before the interview had even begun.

  David resisted, falling deeper into his character as one who aspired to the position of employee in a great house. He dropped his head a fraction, attempting to appear subservient and perhaps a little frightened. While he did not want to avoid the peer’s gaze in a way that might seem suspicious, he was careful not to look him directly in the eye. It would be unwise to do anything that might seem like a challenge to such a man.

  When it was clear that he was not going to babble hidden truths or break and run, Scofield seemed satisfied and glanced down at David’s falsified references. ‘These are most impressive, Mr Ricardo Castellano.’

  ‘Grazie,’ David said, then added a subservient nod. ‘The ladies of Lord Penderghast’s family were most satisfied.’

  ‘Not too satisfied, I trust.’ Scofield was staring at him again, as if waiting for him to admit to an indiscretion.

  ‘I do not understand,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘I do not believe you,’ the Duke replied. ‘But at least you are smart enough to answer in the way you know will please me.’ He looked up again and one eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch to indicate his scepticism.

  ‘I would never...’ David paused for a moment, pretending to search for the right words ‘...presume familiarity with my students.’

  ‘That is wise of you,’ the Duke replied in a tone that did not sound convinced. ‘I was hoping to find a man who was older and less...’ He gave a disgusted shake of his head.

  David replied with another shrug. ‘I will be older, in time. But with youth comes...’ He took a few quick steps and a turn to indicate agility.

  The Duke responded with a resigned sigh. Then he reached into the drawer of his desk and removed a stack of pound notes, counting out ten of them and setting them in a pile on the desk in front of him. ‘I suppose, if I am to allow this fiasco at all, I want the best that money can buy.’

  David nodded again, then eyed the money on the desk in a way that he hoped displayed a convincing amount of avarice.

  ‘My sisters are very precious to me and I do not permit just anyone into their company.’ He cleared his throat to draw David’s attention away from the money. ‘As you probably realise, men in your profession have a reputation for turning the heads of young girls.’

  David shook his head violently. ‘Your Grace, I would never—’

  The Duke held up a hand.

  ‘These girls are likely to be as much trouble as any man could be. I have sheltered them from society and they chafe under the restrictions.’

  ‘I see,’ David said, mentally cataloguing the weakness to exploit later.

  ‘Your problem is just as likely to be other men, trying to reach them for clandestine meetings,’ the Duke said, giving him a dead-eyed look. ‘If there are suitors visiting during the day that I am unaware of, I would appreciate your telling me of them.’

  ‘You want me to spy for you,’ David said, nodding.

  The Duke extended a fingertip and the pile of bills moved an inch further away. ‘Nothing as vulgar as that. I simply want you to observe and report anything unusual that you might see.’

  David could not see any difference between what he had said and the Duke’s version, but now was not the time to argue. ‘I will do as you ask,’ he said with another nod and watched the money slide back to his side of the desk.

  The Duke gave an encouraging nod and David picked up the notes and pocketed them.

  ‘Of course, this brings us back to the matter we discussed at first,’ the Duke said, ‘and the dangers of having you in the house.’

  ‘There will be no danger,’ David assured him with a worried look.

  ‘Good,’ the Duke said, nodding back. ‘See there is not. Because if I find that you have touched either of my sisters outside of what is necessary to teach them to waltz, I will kill you.’

  The statement was delivered in such a casual way that, at first, David was not sure that he’d heard the words correctly. He started and stared back at the Duke, waiting to see if the man laughed, or winked, or gave any indication that he had been exaggerating.

  Instead, the other man locked on to him with an unrelenting gaze, daring him to look away first.

  For a moment, David forgot himself and stared back into the eyes of the murderer of his best friend, unwilling to yield. Then he remembered that the whole point of this charade was to gather information to prove his suspicions and reveal the truth to the world. That could not be done if he did not behave as a dancing master should. He dropped his eyes and offered a shallow bow. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, signor—scusi. Your Grace. You have nothing to fear from me, Your Grace.’ He bowed more deeply, as if humbled at the mistake in his address.

  When he looked up, a slow smile spread
across the Duke’s face, stopping before it reached his eyes. ‘That is good to know, Castellano. If I have no trouble from you, you will have no trouble from me. Capisci?’

  ‘Si,’ he said hurriedly, dipping his head again.

  ‘My sisters are waiting for you in the music room. Do not disappoint them. Or me.’ He gave a vague gesture and pointed towards the door to indicate that the interview was over.

  David backed away, allowing himself to bumble and stumble his way to the hall, but never taking his eyes from his adversary.

  Once out of sight, he deliberately turned in the opposite direction of the way that had been indicated, trying to gain a quick tour of the ground floor. But a servant appeared almost immediately and directed him to the music room.

  The two young ladies were waiting for him there. The elder, he had been informed, was Lady Olivia, a stately blonde with a cool beauty that could intimidate a man almost as quickly as her brother’s threats. Her looks were paired with a quick mind, for she looked at him with the same direct stare her brother had given him, as if cataloguing strengths and weaknesses to exploit later.

  As he had done to her brother, he smiled back and bowed deeply, doing everything in his power to appear harmless.

  Then he turned to the younger of the two, Lady Margaret, and his false smile faltered.

  She was looking back at him from sherry-brown eyes in a heart-shaped face framed in hair the colour of wild honey. Her exceptionally kissable mouth curved into a smile that made his heart stutter and his carefully laid plan shatter into a million pieces.

  If he had tried to imagine the perfect woman, he could not have done better than the one standing before him. Of course, his imagined paragon would not have been an unattainable goddess, miles above him in rank and the sister of his sworn enemy. In his fantasy, he’d have allowed himself some reason to hope instead of awakening the soul-gnawing envy he felt when facing down the upper classes.

  He must hope that this woman would ruin his daydreams the moment she opened her mouth. If she was as shallow and silly as most of her set, he could ignore her physical appearance and forget his fantasies.

  The disappointment of it would add steel to his resolve. He would strip every last bit of information he could from her unused brain without guilt or regret and use it to destroy her brother. Then she would see how the world treated those who had no powerful family to protect them from cruel reality.

  Chapter Three

  Peg should never have tried to outsmart her brother.

  The promised dance master was standing before them now and, though he was not quite as disappointing as she feared he would be, he still seemed exceptionally foolish. Spending several hours a week with him would be almost as tedious as being alone.

  At first glance, she would not have called Mr Castellano handsome. His hair oil was as thick as his accent, which was as false as his smile. His clothing was too tight, accentuating his long legs and thin waist, and making her look at places that no lady should be paying attention to. Everything about him was just a little too much to be taken seriously.

  Most annoying, she had the fleeting impression that there was a perfectly ordinary man hiding underneath the fop. Or perhaps ordinary was not the word she was seeking, but extraordinary. His eyes were large and dark and his features strong and even. His shoulders were broad, his movements sure. And though his smile seemed overly bright to the point of mania, when he was not showing all of his brilliantly white teeth his mouth was very nice indeed.

  It was as if he had downplayed his best qualities to make himself as unlikeable as possible.

  Hugh had probably put him in mind to do that. She could not imagine him allowing a conventionally attractive man to have access to his sisters. She had been expecting him to find some man too decrepit to walk without a stick, much less dance. She imagined he would be ugly as well with straw-like grey hair and perhaps an embarrassingly large wart on his nose.

  If Mr Castellano was truly handsome, he might be used to fathers and older brothers considering him a threat to a girl’s virtue. For self-protection, he had made an effort to make himself ridiculous.

  ‘Buon giorno, ladies,’ the object of her curiosity said with a toothy grin. ‘Today, we are learning to dance, no?’

  ‘No,’ her sister Olivia said, checking the little watch that was pinned to her gown. Then she reached into a pocket and removed a sovereign, tossing it to the dancing master who caught it instinctively. ‘Hugh has left for Parliament by now and I will be going, as well.’ She looked to the dancing master. ‘There are more coins to come if you say nothing of this to anyone.’

  ‘Si, signora,’ he said, his head bobbing like a marionette with an unskilled puppeteer.

  Then Liv walked to the window and opened it, throwing a leg over the sill and dropping from sight.

  The dancing master stared after her, amazed.

  ‘She has an assignation with her fiancé,’ Peg supplied. ‘Since our brother has not accepted the man’s suit, it is not yet official. They are forced to meet in secret.’

  When the man did not respond, she added, ‘That is why she has bribed you not to tell him.’

  Perhaps he did not understand her. He continued to stare at the open window, as if he expected her sister to reappear. ‘So soltanto un po’ di italiano. Lei parla inglese?’

  By the horrified and uncomprehending look he gave her in response to this, it was clear that he understood even less Italian than she did. She tried in English, so slowly that even a fool could understand. ‘Olivia. Has gone.’ She made a scurrying motion with her fingertips. ‘Away.’

  ‘I can see that,’ he said, his accent faltering before he remembered where he was. ‘Why did she not use the door?’

  ‘Because our brother has men who watch the front and follow us when we go out,’ Peg replied.

  ‘How strange,’ he said, still staring at the window.

  ‘Not as strange as an Italian dancing master who cannot speak Italian.’ She stared at him, her hands on her hips. ‘It was clear that you could not answer me when I spoke to you. Why are you pretending to be someone who you are not?’

  He blinked at her, as though it was necessary to choose an appropriate answer to what seemed a simple question. Then he held his hands in the air, surrendering. ‘It is because Ricardo Castellano can command a higher price as a dancing master than David Castell.’

  She nodded in approval. She could not fault his logic. ‘Does my brother know you are not Italian?’

  ‘I suspect he does,’ he said with a sad tilt of his head. ‘My accent is not very good. But he did not bother to test my skill with the language to be sure.’

  ‘Interesting,’ she replied. ‘He is normally so careful when it comes to us. I am surprised that he let a flaw in your character go unchallenged.’

  The dancing master gave her a weak smile. ‘I do not waste my time trying to understand the logic of the gentry.’

  ‘I would think that understanding your employers was an important part of your job,’ she said, staring back at him, intrigued.

  He shrugged. ‘It would be easier if they acted in a predictable manner. Unfortunately, they do not. I cannot explain your brother to you. Perhaps you could explain him to me.’ He glanced at the open window again. ‘For example, why did he bribe me far more than your sister did to report back to him the sort of thing that just happened?’

  ‘He did what?’

  ‘He gave me money to inform him if either of you sneaked out of the house to meet with men.’

  Peg frowned. They had underestimated Hugh again. He had only given in to her request so he could add another layer of security to the hold he had on them. ‘Well, that makes things clearer to me, at least,’ she said and gave Mr Castell a resigned smile. ‘How much did he offer you?’ she asked.

  ‘Ten pounds on top of my salary,’ Mr Castell replie
d, blinking expectantly.

  ‘And I suppose you will want more from us to keep Liv’s activities secret.’ Silently, Peg counted up the money she had saved from her allowance. It was not quite enough to equal what her brother had given him. Nor was she sure she wanted to waste every last penny of her own savings on furthering her sister’s relationship with Mr Clement. If, after all the time he had been courting her, the man had not managed to persuade her sister into an elopement, Olivia could not be too firmly attached to him.

  ‘We do not have to discuss that just yet,’ he said. ‘I do not know you well enough to decide which side of the battle I should take.’

  The speculative look he was giving her made her flush pink before she remembered that it had never been her intention to fall for the flirtatious banter of a dancing master. If she wished to gain anything from the situation she had arranged, it would not do to have this stranger trying to manipulate her with sly smiles and warm glances.

  Unless she could manage to do it to him first. She had little experience with flirting, but now might be an excellent time to practise it. She smiled back at him. ‘Once you know Liv and I better, I am sure you will be sympathetic to our cause.’ She allowed her lip to tremble, ever so slightly. ‘Our brother is terribly strict with us, you see. And there is no reason for it, as we cause him no trouble and create no scandals.’

  Mr Castell glanced at the window again, as if doubting that the missing Olivia could confirm her story.

  ‘Though it may seem so, Olivia is not a flighty girl or careless with her reputation,’ she said, tugging his sleeve to regain his attention. ‘She has an understanding with the gentleman she is seeing today. He has offered for her multiple times and each time our brother has refused him.’

  ‘There is probably a good reason for it,’ Mr Castell said, sounding far too willing to give her brother the benefit of the doubt.