score to settle with your cousin, Miss Lindsay. It is but a prank, but I believe it would take her down a peg. Of course, I will understand if you feel you cannot help me out of family loyalty.”
To give the man credit, Havelock hesitated all the same. Drew suspected he was weighing his cousin’s anger against the windfall of having his vouchers returned.
“Well?”
Roland Havelock’s beady eyes returned to the pile of vouchers. “Very well, as long as it doesn’t harm her.”
“She won’t come to any harm, I promise you. The first thing I want you to do is to see to it she discovers this note.” He handed over a small note, which Havelock read quickly.
“I don’t understand. What are you doing with a note to my cousin Cherry from Pierce?”
Clearly, the man’s understanding was limited.
“It is not really for Miss Cherry, nor is it from Lord Pierce. I wrote it so that Miss Lindsay would feel it necessary to go to the graveyard just past the Heartland gardens. She would only venture to such a spot at midnight if she thought she were saving her cousin.”
“That’s true enough. Still, I don’t see what good that will do you. It’s not as though there is going to be a ghost to scare her or anything.”
“Oh, but I can assure you there will be.”
b
How her Cousin Roland had engineered an invitation to dinner, Jane couldn’t be sure. He had probably flattered Aunt Sophie dreadfully, for as a rule, her aunt disliked him. But here he was, and they were stuck with him for an entire evening.
It was not as if her evenings were exciting without his presence. Quite the contrary, but while the ladies of Heartland lived quietly most of the time, their evenings were never boring. And boredom was what Jane was experiencing at that moment. She forced herself to pay attention to her company once more.
“And then the duchess said—“
“Which duchess?” asked Cherry. “Was it the Duchess of Wentworth? I am acquainted with her, you know.”
“Why, yes. Yes, so it was. Anyway she said, ‘Roland, you scamp, I believe you’ve the devil’s own luck with cards!’ Of course, she was right, and she was soon into me quite heavily.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize she gambled,” said Cherry.
“Lord, child,” said her mother. “All the ladies play, though mostly silver loo. Why, we must teach you before we go up to London, so that you will know how to go on.”
“I should be happy to be of service,” said Cousin Roland with gallantry. But Jane thought it time to intervene; she had heard rumours about her Cousin Roland’s skill at the tables—or lack of it.
“I will teach you, Cherry.” She ignored a glare from Havelock. “After all, you want to know how ladies play, not an expert, neck-or-nothing player such as Cousin Roland is reputed to be.” With this, Jane rose from the table and led the way to the gold salon.
“I’ll just bring my port along, if you ladies have no objection. Nothing worse than sitting all alone at a huge table with only a glass of spirits for company.”
The gold salon was so named for the colour of its draperies but also for the delicate white Louis XIV furniture trimmed in gold. Jane led the way to an intimate grouping of two couches and two chairs. The sofas faced one another, and she claimed one of these, pulling Cherry down by her side. Aunt Sophie sat on the opposite couch while Cousin Roland prepared to sit on one of two dainty chairs.
As he lowered his considerable bulk, Jane wondered irreverently where she would find another to match the set. She wasn’t certain if the subsequent creaking emanated from the chair or Cousin Roland’s corset, but the chair remained intact.
Roland leaned toward Cherry and began to tell her slightly scandalous tales of London and its better-known inhabitants. Cherry blushed at his boldness, but Jane recognized the stories as being two or three Seasons old and quite exaggerated.
Trying to draw Roland’s attention away from Cherry,
To give the man credit, Havelock hesitated all the same. Drew suspected he was weighing his cousin’s anger against the windfall of having his vouchers returned.
“Well?”
Roland Havelock’s beady eyes returned to the pile of vouchers. “Very well, as long as it doesn’t harm her.”
“She won’t come to any harm, I promise you. The first thing I want you to do is to see to it she discovers this note.” He handed over a small note, which Havelock read quickly.
“I don’t understand. What are you doing with a note to my cousin Cherry from Pierce?”
Clearly, the man’s understanding was limited.
“It is not really for Miss Cherry, nor is it from Lord Pierce. I wrote it so that Miss Lindsay would feel it necessary to go to the graveyard just past the Heartland gardens. She would only venture to such a spot at midnight if she thought she were saving her cousin.”
“That’s true enough. Still, I don’t see what good that will do you. It’s not as though there is going to be a ghost to scare her or anything.”
“Oh, but I can assure you there will be.”
b
How her Cousin Roland had engineered an invitation to dinner, Jane couldn’t be sure. He had probably flattered Aunt Sophie dreadfully, for as a rule, her aunt disliked him. But here he was, and they were stuck with him for an entire evening.
It was not as if her evenings were exciting without his presence. Quite the contrary, but while the ladies of Heartland lived quietly most of the time, their evenings were never boring. And boredom was what Jane was experiencing at that moment. She forced herself to pay attention to her company once more.
“And then the duchess said—“
“Which duchess?” asked Cherry. “Was it the Duchess of Wentworth? I am acquainted with her, you know.”
“Why, yes. Yes, so it was. Anyway she said, ‘Roland, you scamp, I believe you’ve the devil’s own luck with cards!’ Of course, she was right, and she was soon into me quite heavily.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize she gambled,” said Cherry.
“Lord, child,” said her mother. “All the ladies play, though mostly silver loo. Why, we must teach you before we go up to London, so that you will know how to go on.”
“I should be happy to be of service,” said Cousin Roland with gallantry. But Jane thought it time to intervene; she had heard rumours about her Cousin Roland’s skill at the tables—or lack of it.
“I will teach you, Cherry.” She ignored a glare from Havelock. “After all, you want to know how ladies play, not an expert, neck-or-nothing player such as Cousin Roland is reputed to be.” With this, Jane rose from the table and led the way to the gold salon.
“I’ll just bring my port along, if you ladies have no objection. Nothing worse than sitting all alone at a huge table with only a glass of spirits for company.”
The gold salon was so named for the colour of its draperies but also for the delicate white Louis XIV furniture trimmed in gold. Jane led the way to an intimate grouping of two couches and two chairs. The sofas faced one another, and she claimed one of these, pulling Cherry down by her side. Aunt Sophie sat on the opposite couch while Cousin Roland prepared to sit on one of two dainty chairs.
As he lowered his considerable bulk, Jane wondered irreverently where she would find another to match the set. She wasn’t certain if the subsequent creaking emanated from the chair or Cousin Roland’s corset, but the chair remained intact.
Roland leaned toward Cherry and began to tell her slightly scandalous tales of London and its better-known inhabitants. Cherry blushed at his boldness, but Jane recognized the stories as being two or three Seasons old and quite exaggerated.
Trying to draw Roland’s attention away from Cherry,
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