скачать книгу бесплатно
Sebastian made an impatient movement. ‘Surely you are not suggesting that tiresomeness was enough to merit his being pushed down the stairs to his death?’
Dolly grimaced. ‘I am merely saying that Juliet might be forgiven if she did want to be rid of such a man. I believe that if Bancroft should ever become so pompous and self-important I might consider taking such action myself!’
Sebastian gave a throaty chuckle. ‘If every dissatisfied wife in Society were to follow Juliet Boyd’s example as a way of ridding herself of a disagreeable husband then I believe there would be only widows left—’
Sebastian broke off abruptly as he heard a shocked gasp behind him, turning sharply to see the edge of disappearing silken skirts as the eavesdropper on his conversation with Dolly made good her escape.
He stood up abruptly. ‘Dolly, please tell me that was not she!’ he groaned. But he knew by the consternation on his hostess’s face that it had indeed been the Countess of Crestwood who had overheard their damning conversation ….
Once dressed, Juliet had gone upstairs to check on Helena, who was thankfully much improved yet still in considerable discomfort, before proceeding down to the breakfast room. Her intention had been to seek out Sebastian and offer him an apology for some of the things she had said to him the previous evening. She had come to realise, through the long hours of a sleepless night, that it was herself she was angry with, not him.
She had heard the murmur of conversation as she’d approached the breakfast room, coming to a halt in the hallway when she heard Edward’s name mentioned. She’d regretted that hesitation almost instantly, as she hadn’t been able to help but overhear the rest of the conversation.
Sebastian St Claire believed her as guilty of Edward’s death as surely as did every other member of the ton!
Hateful, hateful man. And to think it had been her intention to apologise to him this morning for her insulting remarks to him the previous evening! How much more hurtful had been his own comments just now than anything she had said to him.
‘Juliet!’
She glanced back over her shoulder to see Sebastian pursuing her down the hallway, his expression grim as his much longer strides brought him ever closer, making a nonsense of Juliet’s attempt to avoid him.
She came to a sudden halt in the hallway and turned to face him. ‘Do you have more accusations you wish to make, Lord St Claire? Possibly to my face this time?’ she challenged scathingly. ‘Do you not think that overhearing you accuse me of killing my husband is enough insult for one morning?’ Her hands were shaking so badly that she had to clasp them tightly behind her back.
Sebastian frowned. ‘I do not believe myself guilty of having done that.’
‘No?’ Juliet’s chin was raised in challenge, her eyes sparkling angrily. Anger was by far a better emotion than the tears that threatened but which she absolutely refused to shed.
‘No,’ he maintained harshly, those whisky-coloured eyes dark and stormy. ‘I accept it was wrong of Dolly and I to repeat the—the speculation that has abounded since your husband’s sudden death. But at no time did either of us claim to be expressing our own views on the subject.’
Juliet eyed him in a seething fury. ‘Perhaps you would care to do so now?’
No, Sebastian did not believe that he would. Juliet’s mood was such that anything he said to her now, especially concerning his opinion of the circumstances of her husband’s death, was sure to be misconstrued by her. ‘Perhaps the speculation would not be so rife if you ceased to maintain your own silence on the subject …’
‘What would you like me to say, Lord St Claire?’ she scorned. ‘That it was I the servants believe they heard arguing with Edward only minutes before he fell to his death? That I hated my husband so much, wanted rid of him so much, I deliberately and wilfully pushed him down the stairs in the hopes that he would break his neck?’
No, Sebastian had no desire to hear Juliet say those things. He did not want to even think of this beautiful and delicate woman behaving in such a cold and calculating way. Nor to imagine what desperation she’d felt—what Edward Boyd’s behaviour towards her could possibly have been—to have driven her to such lengths in order to be rid of him ….
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Are you telling me that is what happened?’
‘Oh, no, My Lord.’ Her laugh was hard and humourless. ‘It is not for me to tell you anything. You must decide for yourself what you believe to be the truth.’
His mouth tightened. ‘Is that not difficult to do when you steadfastly refuse to defend yourself?’
She gave him a pitying look. ‘I am certainly not so naïve as to even attempt to proclaim my innocence to one who has so obviously already decided upon my guilt.’
Sebastian made an impatient move. ‘Then you presume too much, madam.’
‘Do I?’ Juliet Boyd snapped. ‘All evidence is to the contrary, My Lord.’
Sebastian had never experienced such frustration with another human being as he felt at that moment towards Juliet Boyd. Could she not see that her words and actions, her continued refusal to defend herself, only damned her as being the murderess the ton believed her to be? To others, if not to him.
Her eyes, those beautiful green eyes, viewed him coldly. ‘Are you not relieved, My Lord, that I did not take your attentions to me more seriously?’
‘My attentions, as you call them, were never intended to be taken seriously,’ he bit out curtly.
‘Of course they were not.’ She gave him a disdainful glance. ‘Everyone knows that Lord Sebastian St Claire does not take anything in life seriously!’
Once again she meant to insult him. And once again Sebastian realised he had no defence against those insults ….
Dolly claimed that if he felt so inclined Sebastian had the means and the ability to change his way of life. That, third son or not, he did not have to live the life of idleness and pleasure he had so far enjoyed.
Until the last twelve hours Sebastian had never had reason to even question that life! Nor did he thank Juliet for being the reason he was questioning it now ….
‘If you will excuse me, Lady Boyd, I have a prior engagement.’ He gave a less than elegant bow. ‘Please accept my apologies for any insult, real or imagined, that you may have felt during the conversation you overheard earlier. I do assure you that no insult was intended by either Lady Bancroft or myself.’ He turned sharply on his heel and took his leave.
Tears burnt Juliet’s eyes as she watched him go. She knew that Sebastian St Claire’s light-hearted pursuit of her was finally at an end. That she had rended his interest in her asunder with her criticism of him and the way he lived his life.
Chapter Six
‘You are here, too, Gray?’ Sebastian did not even try to hide his surprise upon finding his friend already seated in the Earl of Banford’s study when he duly presented himself there at the assigned hour of ten o’clock.
Nor did Sebastian attempt to conceal his irritation as he refused to take the seat the Earl offered, facing him across the width of his leather-topped desk; Sebastian had suffered through enough such interviews over the years with his brother Hawk, to know better than to meekly sit and accept the set-down he believed was coming. A set-down he deeply resented.
‘I am perfectly comfortable standing, thank you,’ he assured the older man, and he moved to stand with his back towards the window, hands clasped behind his back, the width of his shoulders blocking out most of the sunlight.
The Earl nodded. ‘My wife tells me that you and Lady Boyd have argued …?’
‘What the—?’ Sebastian’s scowl deepened as he stiffened resentfully. He had believed his earlier conversation with Dolly to be of a private nature, known only to the two of them. And in part to Juliet Boyd herself, of course … ‘Dolly had no right to relate any of that conversation to you,’ he said, outraged.
‘I am afraid that she did.’ The Earl’s expression was sympathetic, but at the same time determined. ‘You see, it is not in our interest that you argue with Lady Boyd.’
‘“Our interest”?’ Sebastian’s brow darkened ominously as he looked at the earl and Gray. ‘Would someone kindly tell me what on earth is going on?’
‘Calm down, old chap,’ Gray advised him.
‘No, I do not believe I will,’ Sebastian grated.
‘At least hear what Bancroft has to say before you threaten to call him out,’ Gray soothed.
The Earl rose to his feet, as if he too found the confinement of being seated irksome. ‘Have you not wondered why it was, when two weeks ago you made your request to my wife that she invite the Countess here to stay, she had already done so?’
‘Why should I?’ Sebastian shrugged. ‘The two ladies were friends once, were they not?’
‘Perhaps,’ the Earl acknowledged cautiously. ‘But I am afraid in this instance that friendship did not signify. My wife issued the invitation to Lady Boyd at my behest.’
‘You have lost me, I am afraid.’ Sebastian’s morning so far had not been in the least conducive to holding on to his temper, and the Earl’s enigmatic conversation now was only succeeding in increasing his annoyance.
‘I am sure you are aware of the … rumours surrounding the Earl of Crestwood’s death?’
‘Not you, too!’ Sebastian strode forcefully, impatiently, into the middle of the book-lined room. ‘You—’ he looked pointedly at the Earl of Banford ‘—gave every indication that you’d befriended the Countess yesterday evening. And you—’ his eyes glittered dangerously as he turned his attention on Gray ‘—flirt with the lady every time the two of you meet. Am I now to believe that you both think her capable of killing her own husband?’
‘That is the whole point of this conversation, Sebastian.’ Once again it was Gray who answered softly. ‘The simple answer is we do not know what the lady is capable of.’
‘Boyd has been dead these past eighteen months,’ Sebastian said coldly. ‘If by some chance Juliet did do away with him—’ his gaze narrowed ‘—then I am sure she was justified.’ That look of wariness, almost of apprehension, he had on several occasions seen in Juliet’s eyes, certainly seemed to indicate that someone—and who else could it be but Crestwood?—had given her good reason to fear.
‘Ah.’
‘Hmm.’
Sebastian easily noted the glance that passed between the other two men in accompaniment to their unhelpful replies.
He could not ignore the uneasy feeling that was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. The Earl claimed Dolly had invited Juliet here at his behest. And Gray, Sebastian now recalled, had made only a nominal complaint at being dragged along to a summer house party he would normally have refused to attend. Gray had also been the one chosen to sit next to Juliet at dinner yesterday evening in Sebastian’s stead. Now he discovered that Gray and the Earl of Banford were far better acquainted than he had previously thought ….
‘Very well.’ He seated himself in one of the winged armchairs beside the unlit fireplace before looking at the other the two men with grim determination. ‘One or both of you had better tell me exactly what is going on, or you will leave me with no choice but to go to the Countess of Crestwood and inform her of this conversation.’
‘You know, Grayson, I do believe you and Dolly may have been correct in your opinion of St Claire’s intellect,’ the Earl commented with approval.
‘Seb’s a capital chap,’ the younger man answered blithely.
‘Seb is fast becoming a blazingly angry one!’ he warned them harshly.
‘Very well.’ The Earl looked him straight in the eye. ‘I am happy to talk frankly, but before doing so I will require your word as a gentleman that once this conversation is over you will not discuss its details with a third party.’
Sebastian knew without the other man saying so that in this case the ‘third party’ he referred to was the Countess of Crestwood ….
Up till now Sebastian had always found Dolly’s husband to be an affable and charming man. A man it was difficult not to like, but with no more to him than that.
These last few minutes of conversation showed there was much more to the Earl of Banford, and to his own friend Gray, than Sebastian had previously realised … and he didn’t like knowing that at all.
‘… and so you see you have totally misjudged poor St Claire, I am afraid, dear Juliet,’ Dolly admonished gently as the two women sat together in her private parlour.
Juliet had been reluctant to accept Dolly’s invitation to join her here when the other woman had come upon her still standing in the hallway after Sebastian had so abruptly taken his leave. After all, Dolly had been just as guilty of discussing her as Sebastian had! To now hear that he had actually been dismissing the idea of Juliet being guilty of any involvement in Edward’s death, rather than accusing her, made her feel more than a little foolish.
For now it appeared she owed Sebastian not one apology but two!
‘After all the gossip and speculation this last year and a half, it is a subject about which I am naturally a little sensitive,’ Juliet acknowledged stiffly.
‘But of course, my dear.’ Dolly gave her hand an understanding pat. ‘I can be a sympathetic ear if you ever feel the need to talk privately ….’
How Juliet longed to tell someone about her years as Edward’s wife. Longed to tell of those nights when he had come to her bed and taken her with cold indifference to the pain he was inflicting. Of his cruelty in the early months of their marriage, when she’d still thought it worth pleading for his gentleness and understanding. Pleas she had ceased to make after that single occasion when Edward had shown her just how much more pain and humiliation he could inflict when thwarted.
Oh, yes, Juliet longed to tell someone of those things, but knew that she never would ….
‘I thank you for the offer, Dolly.’ She smiled, to take any offence from her refusal. ‘But for the moment I would much rather discuss how I am to go about apologising to Lord St Claire for this latest misunderstanding.’
If Dolly was disappointed in Juliet’s determination not to talk about the past, then she gave no indication of it as she instead laughed huskily. ‘Oh, my dear, you must not be so eager to concede that you were in the wrong. Men are fond of believing themselves in the right of it, you know, and to eat a little humble pie on occasion does them no harm whatsoever.’
Despite her earlier tension, Juliet found herself laughing at Dolly’s nonsense. ‘But in this case Lord St Claire was in the right of it …’
‘I did not say you have to punish him for ever, my dear.’ Dolly gave her a conspiratorial smile. ‘Just long enough for him to feel the cold chill of your displeasure. The ball I am giving tomorrow evening should be time enough to allow yourself to forgive him.’
Juliet raised dark brows. ‘So I am to forgive him, then?’
‘Of course.’ Dolly gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘I have found with Bancroft that it is by far the best way. By the time I have finished forgiving him he is usually so befuddled he has quite forgotten that he was not actually to blame for our fall-out, and is just grateful that we are … friends again!’
Juliet felt colour warm her cheeks as she realised what sort of friendship the other woman was alluding to. ‘You quite misunderstand my relationship with Lord St Claire—’
‘It is still early days yet, Juliet,’ Dolly pointed out.
She shook her head. ‘I assure you I have no intention of ever becoming that sort of friend with Sebastian St Claire.’
Or any other man ….
Sebastian’s expression remained outwardly calm as the Earl talked. Which was not to say that he was not disturbed by the older man’s conversation—only he had no intention of revealing his own thoughts at Bancroft’s talk of agents of the Crown and treachery.
Bancroft, it appeared, had for some years been involved in such a network of agents, of which Gray—a man Sebastian had known since childhood—appeared to be a member! Dolly, too, if Sebastian understood the Earl correctly; all those years Dolly had been the mistress of one member of the aristocracy or another she had been reporting information back to Bancroft!
‘So it appears Crestwood was either responsible himself for passing along privileged information, or it was someone else close to him in whom he confided,’ Bancroft finished gravely.
Sebastian realised he had been guilty of allowing his thoughts to wander. But, hell, what man would not when confronted with such a fantastic tale? ‘Let me see if I understand this clearly. You are saying that Crestwood, or someone close to him, for years passed along privileged information to the French? That such information was used to forestall several English efforts to defeat Bonaparte, and also to aid the Corsican’s escape from Elba two years ago?’
‘I am saying exactly that,’ the Earl confirmed.
Sebastian’s brother Lucian had resigned his commission in the army when Bonaparte had finally surrendered, but he had returned to duty the following year, along with his fellow officers, in order to participate in the battle at Waterloo, following Napoleon’s escape from Elba. Lucian had returned from that last battle a hard and embittered man, and most of his friends had not returned at all ….
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. ‘You also believe that this “someone close” to the earl was his wife? That if the heroic Crestwood did not do it, then it must therefore have been Juliet who was the traitor?’
Gray frowned. ‘Crestwood was a hero and a gentleman, Seb. But he was not a man who had close friends as you and I do. In effect, there was no other person close to him except his countess. Now Crestwood is conveniently dead, and so unable to deny or admit these allegations.’
Sebastian stood up restlessly. ‘You are claiming that Lady Boyd deliberately pushed Crestwood down the stairs to his death in order to cover up her duplicity?’
His friend nodded. ‘It is reasonable to suppose that Crestwood finally discovered his wife’s treachery, and that when he confronted her with it, she pushed him down the stairs to stop him from making her conduct public.’
‘Is it not a simpler explanation that the man was foxed?’
‘The man did not drink strong liquor of any kind.’
‘Then perhaps he fell.’
‘He stood the deck of his own ship for over twenty years—are you seriously expecting us, or anyone else, to believe that he lost his balance at the top of his own staircase?’ Gray calmed with effort. ‘Besides, several of the servants heard the sounds of an argument only minutes before the Earl’s fall.’
Sebastian gave a disdainful snort. ‘Servants have been known to say anything if they believe it might earn them a guinea or two!’
‘No such bribery was offered,’ the Earl assured him.
Still Sebastian could not countenance the idea that Juliet was guilty of deliberately murdering her husband, let alone of treason. Although the sacrifice Lucian and his friends had made during the war said he had to hear Bancroft out … ‘The man was such a prig that he had no real friends, and such a paragon that he did not drink alcohol. Therefore it must be his wife who is the one guilty of treason? Of pushing Crestwood to his death so that he could not reveal her perfidy?’ Sebastian shook his head. ‘That seems to be rather a leap to have made on so little evidence, gentlemen.’
‘There is more, St Claire.’ The Earl’s tone immediately drew Sebastian’s attention. ‘Lady Boyd’s aunt, the sister of her mother, lived in France with her French husband—Pierre Jourdan. As a child, Juliet Chatterton spent many summers in France, with this aunt and uncle and her young female cousin.’
