Page 38 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

His next thought was that he’d better resign himself to a long interview. Difficult as it would be to restrain his strong urge to press Lady Alicia for a short, succinct summation of events, so he might learn what he could and be on his way, her initial speech indicated that such a request probably wouldn’t answer. Unlike her friend, the very discreet Aunt Foxe, it was apparent that Lady Alicia found gossip the food and wine of life and was neither reticent about conveying it nor anxious to do so quickly.

With as much good grace as he could muster, he answered her inquiries about her friend Alexandre’s current health and activities. Finally, a pot of tea being provided for her and a glass of wine for him, the butler withdrew and Lady Alicia began her tale.

‘It must be nearly twenty years now since that scandal transpired. George Carlow, Earl of Narborough, and his closest friend, William Wardale, Earl of Leybourne, both worked for the Home Office—apparently on some sort of spying activity. Also involved was Christopher Hebden, Baron Framlingham, a brilliant but rather unsteady man.

‘It was said that Leybourne vehemently opposed Framlingham’s involvement in the work, telling Narborough the man was too boastful and indiscreet. It wasn’t just over business that the two clashed; Leybourne had courted Framlingham’s wife Amanda before their marriage and objected to the way that gentleman, a rake both before and after being wed, treated his former sweetheart. As well he might; one later discovered Framlingham had fathered a bastard son with a Gypsy woman and forced his wife to keep the brat!’

While Lady Alicia paused to sip her tea, Gabe’s mind worked furiously. If Gypsies were involved, having one of their clan exact some sort of revenge into the next generation was entirely believable. Impatiently, he waited for his hostess to continue.

Setting down her cup again, Lady Alicia said, ‘As if the disagreement weren’t already bitter enough, Leybourne had begun a discreet affair with Amanda. The exact turn of events was never entirely sorted out, but it is known that the two men had a terrible quarrel just days before the murder.’

‘Murder?’ Gabe burst out.

‘Yes, murder!’ Lady Alicia said with relish. ‘On the evening in question, the three were to meet at Narborough’s home over some matter of business. Narborough arrived late, to find Leybourne and Framlingham in the garden, struggling, Leybourne with a bloody knife in his hands! Framlingham died before he could be questioned, but with Narborough seeing the whole, there seemed little doubt about what had happened, even though Leybourne swore he was innocent.’

She paused again for a sip of tea and, desperately anxious to have her complete the tale, Gabe restrained himself from making any comment that would delay her resuming it.

‘However, as Leybourne could produce no alibi for his whereabouts that night nor any clue to the identity, or even existence, of some other murderer—for he admitted he’d seen no one else in the garden with Framlingham, whom he claimed to have found already stabbed and dying—the jury swiftly convicted him. Leybourne’s title was attainted, his lands seized by the crown, and he was hanged. All the while, his best friend Narborough did nothing to assist him, even though Leybourne continued to swear he was innocent.’

‘A tangle indeed,’ Gabe said, shaking his head. Here was a matter serious enough to produce the sort of vindictiveness from which Miss Foxe had suffered. Could someone from the disgraced Wardales have revenged himself upon a Carlow relation in payment for the earl’s not defending his friend?

But why choose Miss Foxe? She seemed too far removed from the original events to make such a reaction credible.

‘But there is more,’ Lady Alicia broke into his reflections. ‘On the day of the hanging, Framlingham’s Gypsy woman, apparently deranged with grief, cursed all the families involved in the murder of her lover and then hanged herself out a window!’

‘Rather dramatic,’ Gabe murmured. Was the gem trader related to Framlingham’s Gypsy mistress? If he were a member of the same clan, that could be reason enough for him to seek revenge on those who had driven his kinswoman to suicide—and a Gypsy might very well consider anyone with a connection to the responsible families an acceptable target.

But a Gypsy merchant would hardly have entrée to mingle freely at a Ton party. Could one of the Wardales, perhaps living on the fringes of polite society, have colluded with the Gypsy to exact a joint revenge?

His conviction growing as the tale continued, Gabe felt nearly certain that what happened to Miss Foxe must be somehow connected to this ancient scandal, and that the gem trader was involved.

Then another thought struck him. ‘What happened to Framlingham’s Gypsy son?’ he demanded.

‘Lady Framlingham was with child when all this transpired. Already in uncertain health, the grief and distress of her husband’s murder caused her to collapse. Her family, the Herriards, took her in and while she was still prostrate, sent the Gypsy brat to a foundling home, which later burned to the ground, killing all the inmates.’

So much for his idea that the gem trader might be Framlingham’s half-Gypsy son. But he could still have a connection to the Gypsy woman. Someone who believed in William Wardale’s innocence and burned with hatred for George Carlow, the man who had let his best friend go to the gallows without trying to exonerate him, could have engaged a relation of the wronged Gypsy woman to exact vengeance for them both.

‘What happened to the Wardales?’

‘The widow withdrew from Society, of course. There was some talk that George Carlow had attempted to assist her and had been refused. The children should be grown by now, but I have no idea where they are or how they get on.’

‘Is there anything else you can remember about the affair?’

Lady Alicia considered a moment, then said, ‘I don’t believe so. After the hanging, the scandal gradually subsided. The Wardales disappeared; Amanda Hebden remarried—a scholarly man, I believe, who didn’t figure much in Society. George Carlow continued in government service until his health began to fail.’

She angled her head and looked at him curiously. ‘Surely you don’t think that old scandal is related in any way to the recent one? From what I’ve heard, ’twas the girl’s own foolhardiness that brought about her ruination.’

‘Actually it was not; she was persuaded to go to the garden under false pretences, a matter I am trying to prove. Although I admit, it does seem rather far-fetched that someone would have concocted the elaborate scheme used to discredit her because of a long-distant scandal to which she had only the most tenuous of connections.’

‘She was lured to her ruin, you say?’ Lady Alicia echoed, much shocked. ‘Are you sure of this?’

‘Quite sure,’ Gabe replied. ‘’Twas a monstrous injustice, which I should like to redress.’

‘Gracious, I would think so!’ she declared. ‘For someone to deliberately arrange the ruin of Carlow’s daughter—why, I’ve never heard of such wickedness! Lady Honoria must have been hardly more than an infant when those events took place.’

Confusion swirled in Gabe’s head. ‘Lady Honoria?’ he repeated.

‘Yes. That is what you were referring to, isn’t it? The dreadful contretemps a month or so ago when Carlow’s eldest daughter, Lady Honoria, was caught in the garden at Lady Dalrington’s ball, virtually in flagrante delecto with that infamous lecher Lord Barwick?’

Even as the truth of it slammed into him with a sick conviction, Gabe tried to deny it. ‘I…I thought the compromised lady was a Miss Foxe.’

‘No, no, you’re confusing the names, probably because of the girl’s connection to Alexandre. You did say you weren’t familiar with London Society! Lady Honoria’s mother— Anne—was a Foxe, niece to my friend, but the chit is a Carlow. I’m assuming Alexandre asked you to inquire about her? I believe she always had a fondness for her great-niece. I expect the girl is at Stanegate Court now, the Carlow country estate in Hertfordshire. ’Tis the most likely place that Carlow’s eldest son Marcus, Viscount Stanegate, who has virtually assumed the running of the family since George’s last attack, would have sent her to rusticate until the furour died down.’

Marcus. My elder brother, Marc. ‘I—I suppose I did confuse them,’ he said, his tone full of an irony lost on Lady Alicia.

‘I do feel for the girl, poor thing, even though it’s said she was wild to a fault. After having been ruined so thoroughly, and with her fiancé Lord Readesdell repudiating her after the scandal, it’s unlikely that she’ll ever marry.’

While Lady Alicia continued to rattle on, deploring the Carlow girl’s loss of reputation and prospects, Gabe scarcely heard her. Ringing over and over like a death knell in his head were those three words: Lady Honoria Carlow.

After the first shock, anger blazed through him. He could somewhat understand why she might have concealed her identity upon coming to Cornwall. When the mighty have fallen—and this would have been a fall of gargantuan proportions—they’d naturally prefer not to have a host of idle bystanders pointing and smirking at the wreckage.

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