Damsel in Distress Read online

  Dolmain’s dark eyes opened a shade wider in alarm. He rose, saying, “I must go at once.”

  “You will let me know what you learn?”

  “Yes, I shall drop a note if I am unable to keep our date.”

  Caroline had hoped to hear the outcome before four o’clock, but she could see Dolmain was anxious and did not wish to further hamper his activities. She had poured him a cup of coffee when he came in, but he had not touched it.

  “I hope everything turns out well,” she said.

  “I am sure the thing is about somewhere. Pray, do not trouble yourself about it.” He bowed and left.

  She sat on alone, thinking about last night. Helen had definitely been wearing the necklace when last she saw her. If she was not wearing it when she left the ladies’ room, then it had either fallen off and was in the room, or she had given it to someone to hold. Or worst of all, some light-fingered lady had pocketed it. This, she was very reluctant to believe.

  She discussed the matter with Georgie when her sister-in-law joined her for breakfast.

  “That would be the famous Dolmain diamond necklace, that old Lord Dolmain gave his bride as a wedding gift in the last century,” Georgiana said. “A great ugly thing, but very valuable, of course. I wondered that the present lord’s wife did not have it refashioned. But then, she liked those gaudy pieces of jewelry. A foreigner,” she said dismissingly.

  “A foreigner? I did not know that.”

  “She was French.” The lady’s tight lips suggested this was the worst sort of foreigner. “One of the émigrés who escaped during the revolution in France. She landed at Brighton Beach on a little boat set down from a frigate. She had been rescued from a raft in the Channel, folks said. She was monstrously pretty—a petite blonde. Prinny and his set took her up. Dolmain met her in Brighton, and fell in love at sight. A pity, really. He was so young. She was not slow to get a ring around her finger. Married him up on the sly in Brighton, and presented old Lord Dolmain with a fait accompli.”

  “I cannot imagine Dolmain doing anything so dashing,” Caroline said, blinking in astonishment.

  “Oh, he was a wild colt in those days. They do say that wild colts make the best horses when they mature, and it seems to be the case with Dolmain. It was after he came back from France that he settled down and became a force in politics.”

  “What was he doing in France?”

  “He was sent over as a secretary to run errands during the signing of the Peace of Amiens in 1802. You would not remember it, but we actually signed a peace treaty with that Corsican rascal at one time. I expect Dolmain’s wife egged him on to get the assignment as secretary. She never did settle into our English ways. There were many who felt it was no loss when she did not return with him.”

  Caroline stared. This story went from strange to downright incredible. When she spoke, her voice was high with disbelief. “You cannot mean she left him! Are you saying he has a wife?”

  “Oh no, she did die eventually, but she never returned from France at all. I never heard what happened. It was all kept very hush-hush. There was all manner of rumor, of course. Some said she was involved in spying for England, some hinted she was working for the other side. The official version was that she stayed in France to try to reclaim her family’s estate. In any case, she never came back.”

  “When did she die?”

  “I really have no idea, Caro, but she must have died, for there was never any talk of divorce, and Dolmain offered for Lady Mary Swann five years ago.”

  “I remember he was seeing her. I had not heard it came to an offer.” The idea occurred to her that Dolmain was altar-shy. Was he still in love with his late wife?

  “Oh, she would have had him fast enough, but her papa had rigged up some match with a cousin, and she went along with it. Old Swann was a bear for having his own way.”

  Caroline just sat, trying to digest all this. Her only objection to Dolmain was that, after Julian, he might seem a trifle serious for her taste. He certainly took his work more seriously than Julian had ever done. To hear of his youthful exploits lent him an air of recklessness that made him irresistible.

  “It is hard to believe any of Lady Castlereagh’s guests would have stolen the necklace,” Georgiana said. “I wonder if she hired extra servants for the ball. If one of them got away with it, Dolmain can hardly hope to recover it. It is odd that neither Lady Helen nor Lady Milchamp noticed it was missing.”

  “Indeed it is. The first time I wore the diamonds Julian gave me, I thought of nothing else all evening. One’s first diamonds are like a first kiss.”

  Georgie gave a sigh. She would not know about that. She felt a sting of resentment to consider how all romance was missing from her life. “Pity,” she said, then turned the discussion to the meeting to plan the orphans’ holiday.

  Caroline pushed the affair to the back of her mind, but could not entirely forget it. While the ladies met and talked, one corner of her mind kept waiting to hear the door knocker, heralding Dolmain’s visit. The meeting broke up at three, which gave her time to arrange a more interesting toilette for her drive with Dolmain, as he had not written to cancel it.

  He came at four, as planned. She knew as soon as she saw his haggard face that he had not found the diamonds. Her heart went out to him in his trouble.

  “What did Lady Helen have to say?” she asked.

  “She has absolutely no notion what could have happened to the diamonds,” he said grimly. “She did not know they were missing until I had her awoken after I left you this morning and asked her about them. Apparently she never gave them a thought when she was undressing. She was fagged from the ball, she said. I called on Lady Castlereagh. We searched every square inch of the parlor the ladies used last night. She called her servants and questioned them. No one saw the necklace.”

  “Did she hire extra servants for the ball?”

  “No, she had her own servants from Cray’s Foot come up to town for the party. She trusts them implicitly. There was only one servant in the ladies’ parlor, a Miss Henshaw, whom she has known forever. After meeting Henshaw, I am convinced of her innocence.”

  “Then some lady has pocketed them,” Caroline said reluctantly. “How vexing for Lady Castlereagh. I know how she must feel. Timmy Fellows once lost a ruby cravat pin at Winbourne House. I felt it was my fault, although I had not even noticed the thing. Julian insisted on buying him a replacement.”

  “I shan’t let Castlereagh do that.”

  They sat a moment. It was obvious that Dolmain was in no mood to go for their drive.

  “Did you search the carriage?” she asked him.

  “I did, but I already knew the necklace was not there. She wore it into that parlor, and came out without it, after speaking to you.”

  Again Caroline felt that sting of something unpleasant. “I hope you are not suggesting that I took it!” she said, her voice rising perceptibly.

  She watched as he raised his dark eyes and gazed at her, with a questioning look. “No, of course not,” he said, but his tone lacked conviction.

  “That is what you think,” she said, in a voice of mingled anger, horror, and disbelief. “You think I stole the ugly thing!”

  “Of course I don’t,” he shot back. “But it is odd we were speaking of it just before it vanished. You recall I mentioned its value, and you said you could put the money to better use. Lady Milchamp and Helen both mentioned that you made a point of speaking to Helen. You were with her on the sofa for a moment, I think, helping her with her corsage or some such thing.”

  “I helped her arrange her hair. I never touched the necklace. I am not a magician, after all, that I could induce it to fly into my pocket without touching it.”

  “It seems someone did,” he shot back. Then he hastily added, “No one is accusing you, however.”

  “You are not far from it, with those insinuating remarks.”

  “Miss Henshaw was watching you particularly. She mentioned you kept your
back to her; your body was between Helen and the rest of the room. She didn’t notice whether Helen was still wearing the necklace when you left. Then you left the ball very soon after leaving the ladies’ parlor.”

  The thing went from bad to worse. “So did you leave it!” she shot back. “But are you saying you quizzed Lady Castlereagh’s servants about me, in particular? That you singled me out for special investigation? Is that what you are saying?”

  “Not you in particular. I merely asked her if she had noticed who Helen spoke to. She mentioned you—and no one else.”

  “Good God! You might as well have sent Bow Street to search my house. You know how servants tattle. The story will be all over town by morning. How could you do such a thing, Lord Dolmain?”

  Dolmain, in his concern for the necklace, had not viewed the matter in this light, but as he listened, he realized he might inadvertently have cast a shadow on Lady Winbourne’s reputation. His chagrin was not so great as it might have been, however, as he still harbored a lingering suspicion that Caroline had taken the diamonds.

  She did not have the reputation of a thief, but she was known as a dashing lady who lived exceedingly well for a dowager. Julian’s estate had gone to young Jeremy Eden. It was not an enormously wealthy estate, yet the widow did not bother to live in the Dower House. She had her own place in Kent, along with this mansion in London. And most damning of all was her love of gambling, and her unlucky way with the dice.

  “I shall make it clear to society that you are not involved,” he said stiffly.

  “Thank you very much. Very kind of you, when you have already cast suspicion on me. Naturally I have every confidence in your discretion,” she retorted. “Society will soon make clear there is no smoke without fire. Upon my word, I think you have behaved very badly in this affair.”

  An angry hue suffused his cheeks. He deeply regretted his rash behavior. If Caroline was innocent, and really he did not think she had taken the demmed thing, then he must do something for her. “The matter will be rectified,” he said. “Will you do me the honor of attending Lady Brockley’s ball this evening, ma’am?”

  “No, I will not, thank you very much.”

  “If you are concerned for your reputation, then the rumors will soon die down if we are seen to be on the best of terms. That should prove to society that I do not suspect you.”

  She rose imperiously. “I do not require your protection, sir. I am not on probation. I would as lief go out with Jack Ketch. You may leave now, milord.”

  Dolmain rose slowly, wondering how he ought to handle this touchy situation. As the lady was so hot at hand, it was clear that he must keep his head. “I think you would be wise to do as I say, Lady Winbourne,

  “We have already squeezed that lemon.”

  “A reputation, once lost, is not easily recovered,” he cautioned.

  Her nostrils flared dangerously. “You would be wise to leave before I call Crumm,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I think I could take Crumm, should the need arise. If you refuse to be reasonable, I don’t see what else I can do.”

  Her violet eyes were dark with violence. “You have done quite enough. Good day.”

  “As you wish, milady.”

  He bowed and strolled out with an air of ease he was far from feeling.

  Caroline was still in the boughs when Alfred Newton was shown in later. “You must take me to Brockley’s ball tonight, Newt,” she said. “Everyone thinks I have stolen Lady Helen’s diamond necklace.”

  “Who says so?” Newt demanded. He could turn quite fierce when those he loved were wronged.

  She outlined her visit with Dolmain. “Thing to do, we’ll get our heads together,” he said. “Two heads are better than none.”

  “I must definitely attend the ball. To stay away would be tantamount to declaring myself guilty.”

  “Absolutely. Besides, if someone is stabbing you in the back, you want to be there. The fact is, Dolmain hasn’t a case to stand on. You wasn’t the only one in the room with Lady Helen. The fellow must be tuppence shy of a shilling to say such a thing. Perfect rubbish.”

  But it was the sort of rubbish that could ruin a lady’s reputation.

  Chapter Five

  She would go to Lady Brockley’s ball with her faithful friend, Newton, and stare down anyone who dared to look at her askance. She wore a demure white gown from her first Season to emphasize her innocence, and at her throat the diamond-and-amethyst necklace that Julian had bought her to match her eyes.

  Caroline was aware, as soon as she entered the room, that she had become an object of high curiosity. She was accustomed to attention but not this much, and not of this sort. Questioning eyes peered at her obliquely. Voices whispered behind raised fans. Heads had a way of turning from her as she advanced. The usual crush of black jackets did not rush forth to greet her. She was not lacking for partners, but they were not partners off the top shelf as she was accustomed to.

  She pretended to ignore it, but she felt a gathering heaviness inside her to realize that her friends thought she was a thief. And it was Dolmain who had made them think it. That injustice burned like a coal in her heart.

  She refused to be browbeaten into submission. She danced and laughed merrily to show her unconcern. It would be all right. When Dolmain came, she would have to stand up with him. That would show the old cats they were wrong. But by eleven o’clock, Dolmain had still not come and she could take it no more.

  When Newton appeared at her side, she was ready to leave.

  “What do you say we go home now, Newt?” she suggested.

  “All the same to me. Half of one, six dozen of t’other. Or better, let us shag off to the Pantheon. It might raise a few eyeballs, but that never bothers you.” She had been nagging him to take her last year. Not the thing, really. Lightskirts and worse, but the racier members of the ton went as well. Caro needed something to buck up her spirits.

  Caroline felt it might do her good to round out the evening amongst less demanding company. The idea of wearing a mask appealed to her. People would not recognize her and stare.

  “We’ll have to go home to pick up masks and dominoes.”

  Once at the Pantheon, Caroline was disappointed to see it was not the disreputable den she had been imagining. Georgie had told her that when it opened forty-odd years ago, it had been the place for the ton to go. Julian’s parents had been amongst the seventeen hundred attending the opening assembly.

  Inside, it was decorated in the Italian style, with frescoes on walls and ceilings. The lamps were hidden in antique vases, giving a soft, diffused illumination. Some of them hung on gilt chains from the ceiling, and some were atop marble pillars. Marble statues of Romans looked down from their lofty perch. It was like a grand mansion. If the crowd was from the demimonde, their dominoes and masks concealed the fact.

  “What a take-in!” she exclaimed. “I expected a den of vice, and find a fancy ballroom.”

  “I don’t understand why well-bred ladies always want to go throwing themselves into vice dens,” Newt grouched. “Since we are here, might as well wet our whistles, eh?”

  He led her to a box in the upper gallery that gave a view of the dancers below, and ordered a bottle of wine. From this height, Caroline could see that the behavior was not so polite as she had thought. The music was a waltz, causing a wince of memory of her waltz with Dolmain. He thought no more of her than those trollops below. The dancers did not keep the proper distance between them by any means. Some of the gentlemen danced with both arms around their ladies, often swooping off into corners to embrace quite licentiously.

  Most of the gentlemen wore black dominoes and masks, but some of the females wore colors. Upon examining the women, Caroline was surprised to recognize a few of her own friends amongst the throng. Surely that was Miss Tallman in the red domino, and her fiancé with her. A bishop’s daughter, imagine! She recognized a few others as well. One elegant blonde in a blue domino caught her atten
tion. Had she not seen that lady at some ton party last night? The hair was arranged in a familiar manner, drawn back from the face into a bundle of curls,

  “Good God! That is Lady Helen!” she exclaimed.

  “Eh?”

  “The blue domino on the left side of the floor.”

  Newt peered down. “I believe you’re right. Shockin’!”

  “Who is she with? It cannot be Dolmain!”

  “No, the man ain’t tall enough. I don’t recognize the lad.”

  “You must find out who he is, Newt. I wager Dolmain has no idea his daughter is here. What a bold baggage she is. I feel guilty for being here, and I am a decade older than Lady Helen, and a widow besides.”

  “How would I find out?” he asked.

  “We shall wait until the dance finishes and see which box they go to.”

  They both watched Helen and her partner. The couple did not behave in any licentious manner. The gentleman held her a respectful two inches from him at all times. Lady Helen had obviously been taking waltzing lessons, and equally obviously, one of the two required more lessons before waltzing in public. They often stopped, indicating a misstep on someone’s part. When she figured the dance was nearly over, Caro asked Newt to go belowstairs to follow them.

  He was gone an unconscionably long time. Long enough for two separate gents to try their hand at joining Caroline. She had a little difficulty dispatching the second man, until she spotted Mr. Talon, a friend, passing in the corridor, and called for his assistance.

  Mr. Talon returned after he had ejected the unwanted guest. “Surely you are not alone here, Caro?” he asked.

  “I am with Mr. Newton. He will be back presently.”

  “I shall stay with you until he comes. Do you think this a wise time for you to be here?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, but she had a sinking feeling that she knew.

  “With the Dolmain necklace business hanging over your head. Of course, we all know you did not take it,” he assured her, “but it might be wise to stick to the straight and narrow for a few weeks. Chapel Royal on Sunday, concerts of antique music—just until the necklace turns up.”