led them to their apartments and left them exclaiming happily over the luxurious appointments, the basket of fruit and the spectacular arrangements of flowers she’d had placed in their private sitting room.
Not long after she’d returned to her own chamber her cousin came in to speak to her. “It’s as I thought, Isobel. Bentley spread the rumour about you and your husband. As soon as I saw him I knew he was the gentleman who had been described to me as having told Mariah Sanderson’s brother about it.”
“So that’s why you were talking to him, both Alexander and I wondered at your sudden interest in such a nincompoop.”
“You know why he spread the rumour, don’t you?”
“It could only have been because he wished us to become estranged and not produce another child and disinherit him.” She could hardly credit the silly young man could be so devious.
“Do you know, Isobel, I had the distinct feeling Bentley was ashamed of what he’d done. He might be a popinjay, but I can’t believe he’s malicious. I think it might be the company he’s keeping. That vile creature, Farnham, is one of his cronies.”
“Good grief! I must tell Alexander. Bentley must be removed from the influence of that man. Pray excuse me, Pet, this information cannot wait.”
She discovered her husband in his study, feet on the desk and a tray with coffee beside him. He was reading the paper and quite obviously hiding from his guests. He jumped to his feet at her entrance.
“Alexander, I know how the rumours spread.”
“Sit down, darling, and catch your breath.” He took her hand and led her to the armchair. He waited until she was settled before swinging a straight-backed chair around and straddling it. “Now, tell me what you know.”
“Bentley was the perpetrator, but Sir John Farnham is behind it. Your cousin has become embroiled with that horrible man.”
“God’s teeth! Farnham could have been the instigator of the attacks on Bentley. I should have forced that young idiot to tell me truth. I paid his gambling debts—but I fear, if Farnham is involved, that he owes far more.”
“What is it? Alexander—what are you not telling me?”
“I blame myself for having invited Farnham here. If I’d been in my senses I would have known of the man’s reputation and steered well clear of him.”
“You are scaring me now, Alexander—”
He stretched forward and clasped her hands. His strength reassured her. “Nothing has ever been proved, but blackmail and extortion are the least of the crimes I’ve heard him accused of.”
“Thank goodness your cousin will be residing here for the rest of the summer. He should be safe from that evil man’s machinations at Newcomb.” She returned the pressure of his fingers. “Do you intend to speak to Bentley?”
“Of course. Believe me, sweetheart, by the time
“Don’t be too hard on him, my love. He’s vain and foolish, but not a truly bad person.”
The next few days she was so busy with guests and parties, and at night had more pleasurable things to occupy her mind, she quite forgot to be cross with Bentley. He was so subdued after his dressing down she almost felt sorry for him. Several days after the ball their last visitors had departed, and Bentley removed himself to the east wing.
“Sweetheart, I must go to Town to sign the agreement for the yacht. Is there anything you wish me to purchase for you whilst I’m there?”
“Nothing, I’ve everything I need as long as you’re here beside me. Don’t delay too long in Grosvenor Square for I shall be lonely without you.”
His eyes darkened and his lips covered hers in a hard, demanding kiss. “You’re insatiable, my darling. I pray this strange system we’ve adopted proves adequate. I can’t keep away from you regardless of the consequences.”
She stroked his face, loving the feel of bristles beneath her fingertips. “I am resigned to having a big family. I can’t believe something as simple as a vinegar soaked sponge can prevent conception.”
“I’ve instructed Bentley to remain next door and not bother you. I trust he does as he’s bid.” Alexander was not so ready to forgive and forget as she was.
Alexander discovered to his fury the papers would not be ready for a further day. He was now obliged to kick his heels in Grosvenor Square when he would much rather be back at Newcomb. He decided to visit his club and walked round to the stable yard. Nowadays he preferred to do things for himself and not be waited on hand and foot.
On entering White’s, a close friend, Sir Richard Taylor, beckoned him over. “Rochester, good to see you. Must say I enjoyed your hospitality. Your wife is quite delightful. “
“Thank you. “Alexander glanced round the room. Was he imagining the covert looks? “Am I missing something, Taylor? What’s going on? “
“No idea, why don’t you go and ask them? “
Alexander strode across and glared at the nearest gentleman. “Well? Out with it? “
The man blanched and he stepped away before answering. “Your grace, Smithson here was just telling us some news about Farnham. And it concerns your family. “
“What? For God’s sake man—tell me. “
“Farnham was bragging last night that he’d got your cousin, young Bentley, in his pocket. That when Bentley comes into the title half your fortune will go to him. “
Alexander’s fist unclenched. This was news to him. He nodded at the men. “Both Bentley and Farnham will be disappointed. I can assure you, I shall have a son of my own before too long. “
The circle of men relaxed. “Glad to hear you say so, Rochester. Still, if I were you I’d have stern word with Farnham. Can’t have this sort of rumour bandied about the place.”
“Thank you, Smithson, I have every intention of doing so.”
He left the club and headed for one of the less salubrious haunts he’d once drunk in. There would be someone here who knew the whereabouts of his quarry. He shouldered his way through the press of inebriated riff- raff. One could hardly refer to these as gentlemen.
He spotted a friend of Farnham’s and barged across to the man. “Where’s Farnham?”
The man stared glassy eyed not recognising his questioner. “Gone to Newcomb. Got a bit of unfinished business to do down there.” The man half slid from his stool. “He’s meeting someone who owes him.” Perspiration beaded Alexander’s brow. His heart raced and his hands were clammy. Somehow he groped through the crowd of stinking drinkers and emerged, shaking, onto the cobbles.
Everything fell into place. He swallowed hard as bile rose in his throat. The grease on the stairs that had killed poor Sally had been meant for Isobel. The soldiers shooting had not been a random event but a deliberate attempt to kill his wife. My God! He’d left her at Newcomb with no protection and a madman intent on murder heading for the house and his accomplice living next door.
He ran back to Grosvenor Square ignoring the shocked faces of those he elbowed aside. He erupted into the yard and yelled for a groom.
“Saddle my horse. I must leave for Newcomb immediately.” He couldn’t to arrange for grooms to accompany him – every minute counted.
Moments later he thundered out through the arch onto the cobbled street scattering an unwary flock of pigeons from his pathway. Several heads turned to gape at him as he ruthlessly guided his mount through the diligences, carriages and hackneys with scant regard for his, or anyone else’s, safety. Eventually he was in open country. He crouched forward urging Rufus ever faster, praying he would be in time to save the woman who was his life.
Chapter Twenty-three
