Janice Preston - Scandal And Miss Markham

And that proves I am right to be cautious. If the two enquiries lead in different directions, I make no doubt Lord Vernon Beauchamp will go chasing after his cousin and consign poor Daniel to the Devil.

* * *

Vernon strode back to the house half an hour later, not much wiser about how he might discover what had happened to Daniel Markham. The grooms could not tell him who or what was Willingdale and nor did the initials R.H. mean anything. None of them had ever accompanied Daniel on his more recent daily excursions—although they confirmed Dorothea’s story that her brother had been troubled—and nor could they offer any reason for this change in Daniel’s behaviour. They were frustrated that they had been stopped from making enquiries—and Vernon had learned that was mainly due to Dorothea’s concern that any worries about Daniel’s welfare would damage confidence in Stour Crystal—and they had scoffed at the notion that Daniel had run up gaming debts.

‘Mr Daniel ain’t never been a one for gambling, sir,’ the head man, Pritchard, had said. ‘Not since his papa lost all their money. Both Mr Daniel and Miss Thea have worked too hard to save the business to put it at risk again.’

Mr Markham senior would not be the first man to gamble away a fortune, but Vernon’s comment along those lines had resulted in a fierce denial that the money had been lost at the gaming tables. Pritchard had then clammed up, refusing to elaborate further.

Vernon had not pressed Pritchard, but had caught Bickling’s eye and given him the nod before returning to the house, confident his trusty groom would winkle out the truth and pass the information on to Vernon later.

Dorothea—Miss Thea, Pritchard had called her, which was much less of a mouthful—must have been watching for him, because she appeared at a side door and beckoned him inside. He followed her along a passageway, eyeing her neat figure with appreciation, the smell of roses and summer teasing at his senses.

‘I have laid out some clothes for you to change into,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘and there is food for you in here.’

She threw open a door that led into a shabby but homely parlour, the table laid with cold cuts, meat pies, bread, cheese and fruit, reminding Vernon of his hunger. The decor would have been the height of fashion a decade ago—in stark contrast with the ostentatious entrance hall and its grand staircase and even the more subdued but still luxurious furnishings in the study. Vernon recalled his initial scathing assessment of the well-tended surrounds of Stourwell Court as he had driven up the carriageway. The house—relatively newly built, with no passing architectural fashion left unsampled—had screamed new money to one familiar with the sprawling ancient Beauchamp family seat of Cheriton Abbey in the County of Devonshire.

Having learned of the family’s financial loss and subsequent struggle, Vernon was unsurprised by the tactic he had seen many times in the past: a family on its uppers, putting what money they could spare into the public rooms where visitors were entertained in order to keep up appearances.

‘Did you discover anything new?’

Thea came straight to the point as she closed the door behind them. Vernon was unsurprised—she had already impressed him with her directness, as well as her quick understanding.

‘Only the names of some of Daniel’s friends who drink at the Nag’s Head.’ He had no intention of revealing that the grooms had spoken of her family’s past financial difficulties. ‘Pritchard was of the opinion that Daniel had spent much of his time in Birmingham in the days before he went missing. He also reckons your brother called in at the Nag’s Head most nights on his way home. So that will definitely be my first port of call.’

‘Will you drive your curricle, or ride?’

‘I had not thought that far ahead,’ Vernon admitted. ‘If, as you say, my clothing would excite interest, then no doubt my curricle and pair will as well.’

‘A top-of-the-tree rig such as yours? I should say so,’ she said, gravely, but with a twinkle in her eye. When she wasn’t scowling she was an attractive woman. ‘You may take one of Daniel’s horses. They are perfectly decent animals, suitable for a gentleman of your standing.’

Vernon grinned. ‘I am delighted to hear it. A man of my consequence cannot be too careful.’

He might as well pander to her opinion of him as a spoilt aristocrat.

‘We had better eat.’ Thea crossed the room to the table and picked up a plate. ‘It will be more practical to go on horseback. We can take shortcuts across country—’

‘We?’ Vernon strode forward, grasped her arm and tugged her round to face him. ‘What...? Oh, no. No, no, no! Definitely not. You are not coming with me.’

Thea’s tawny brows snapped together, meeting across the bridge of her freckled nose as she drew herself up to her full height. Which was short.

‘You cannot stop me. Daniel is my brother. I want to come.’

Vernon stared down at her mutinous expression and heaved a silent sigh. He was hungry and he was anxious to set off, now he had a definite idea of where to start with his search. First he must deal with this hissing, spitting kitten.

Thea shrugged out of his hold, replaced her plate on the table with a crack that made Vernon wince and folded her arms.

‘You cannot tell me what to do. I am going.’

Vernon squared his shoulders. ‘Not with me you are not.’

‘You cannot stop me.’

‘You are correct. I cannot stop you going anywhere or doing anything you wish. But I tell you here and now...you will not do it with me. I shall return to London and you may never discover what has happened to your brother.’

Her eyes widened.

Good. That has shaken her.

‘You would not do that.’ Her voice lacked conviction.

Vernon lowered his own voice, injecting a silky menace into his tone. ‘If you put me to the test, Miss Markham, I think you will find that I do not make empty threats either.’

Her lips thinned as she glared at him. ‘What about your cousin?’

Vernon shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I shall pay an investigator to track him down and report to me in London. What you choose to forget, Miss Markham, is that I have neither desire nor need to remain here in Worcestershire, or to embark upon a search for a man I have never met. I offered my services because it is unsafe for you, as a female, to go into the places on that list. Which, incidentally, is the exact reason you cannot come with me: it is not safe. I admit to some curiosity as to my cousin’s involvement, but I shall not lose any sleep over it and you will do well to remember that.’

She hung her head, her eyes downcast. Vernon felt like an out-and-out brute, but knew he must not show any weakness for he had no doubt she would quickly seize upon it and, despite what he said, he really was curious to find out what had happened to Daniel Markham.

‘So, are we agreed? I shall leave after I have eaten and changed my clothing and you, Miss Markham, will wave me goodbye.’

‘Very well. I shall not insist on leaving with you.’

Her mouth drooped and he wondered if she were about to cry again. He had been certain that earlier bout was uncharacteristic. He could not abide women who cried at the slightest provocation, using tears as a weapon to get their own way. But, despite that, he still felt sympathy and also a little guilty, knowing how worried she was about her brother. He reached out and nudged one finger beneath her chin, tilting her face to his. Respect for her crept through him: she was dry-eyed and he was relieved at this proof she was prepared to listen to and accept his reasoning.

‘Miss Markham, you must also understand that, quite apart from it being unsafe, it would also be entirely improper for you to accompany me. Your reputation would be in tatters.’