The Foundling (Rags to Richmonds #3)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T empers were running high in the saloon. Scarlett, Adelaide, and Lady Tipton were doing their best to reassure Frederica that she was not the object of anyone’s ire, while growing ever more frustrated with the men for their irascibility. The men were demonstrably trying to remain calm, though without much success. Their questions—Lord Tipton’s in particular—were pointed and growing increasingly impatient.

It could not be denied, however, that the chief of everyone’s fury was directed at Damian Richmond, who, it now seemed certain, had been masquerading as Mr Milliard. His age and physical description tallied, as did his disposition. Even the history he had given amounted to more truth than falsehood. He had , apparently, spent time in the army; he had known a family called the Aldermastons who now lived in India, though he had never worked for them; he had been fast with the son at university. He had , naturally, received a gentleman’s education. With every detail that came to light, Frederica felt more stupid.

“Had you any idea he was in Oxfordshire?” Oakley asked his father.

“I have not heard from Damian in six years—I have not seen him in above ten,” his lordship replied through gritted teeth. He was standing next to Frederica, not quite looming over her, but with his weight on his cane, it certainly felt that way. “I half expected him to show up when Adelaide was found. I thought he must be out of the country when Scarlett’s discovery did not flush him out of the woodwork. Apparently the third niece was the charm.”

“I am sorry,” Frederica said for the tenth or eleventh time. “I did not know who he was.”

“And neither could you have,” soothed Adelaide, who was seated next to Frederica on the sofa, holding her hand.

“Which he would have known,” Oakley said testily. He had been pacing back and forth in front of the ladies since they came into the saloon and showed no sign of stopping.

Kem, on the other hand, stood motionless by the fireplace, his arms crossed, and his brow furrowed like some sort of fearsome sentinel. “You do not think he has guessed the truth, do you?” he asked Lord Tipton gravely.

“I wish I could say not,” the earl replied, “but he must suspect. What possible reason could he have had to conceal his true identity other than to coax information from Frederica that she would not otherwise give? ”

“Pride?” Worthe suggested from his chair. “Given what you have said of his dissolute ways, it could be that he needed the money but was too proud to let it be known how far he had sunk. It is possible that his connection to Frederica was a coincidence.”

“No, he knew I worked there before he took the position.” Frederica had said this the instant the memory entered her head, but when everyone turned to stare at her incredulously, she wished she had kept it to herself. “Forgive me, I have only just remembered that. I only found out directly after he attacked me, and I was really quite shaken—it must have slipped my mind in the confusion.”

“Do not concern yourself, dear,” Lady Tipton said kindly. “Will you tell us what you have remembered now?”

Frederica nodded but sipped some of the lemonade she had been served first, for nerves had left her mouth bone dry. “I knew when Mr Milliard—that is, Mr Richmond—applied for the position of schoolmaster that he had heard about it from Mr Dalton, Taverstock’s gardener. But after the attack, Mr Dalton said he thought Mr Richmond might only have taken the position because he knew I had wealthy connections and hoped to extort money from me somehow—and that is when he confessed the manner of their first meeting. Mr Richmond apparently introduced himself after overhearing Mr Dalton in a tavern, complaining about me being the Earl of Tipton’s niece.”

After inhaling deeply and letting out a prolonged sigh, Lord Tipton retreated wordlessly to the nearest chair. It was not clear whether it was his rheumatic joints or Frederica’s story that made him look so pained as he sat down.

“He knew Frederica was Robert’s daughter, then,” Kem said grimly into the silence.

“Yes, but how much more did he know?” Oakley finished. “Frederica, what did he say? How did he act towards you?”

“He was very charming at first. More supportive of my situation than anyone else at Taverstock.” She dipped her head. “I know I was foolish to trust him, but at the time, it was pleasant to have someone be accepting of my new family. It made me feel less of a pariah.”

Adelaide gave Frederica’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You were not foolish—he thoroughly worked on you!”

“Absolutely!” Scarlett agreed, adding, for the benefit of the others, “He even told Frederica that he knew our mother to try and win her favour. He told her she looked like her.”

“Then she probably does,” Lord Tipton replied. “He is not above using the truth to his advantage, and he would know. He went out of his way to make Susan’s acquaintance while Robert was courting her, simply to vex him. He even threatened to seduce her. That is the sort of thing Damian does for sport.”

Frederica remembered Mr Richmond’s surprise when she opened the door to him on his first arrival at Taverstock. He had seemed stunned—and then delighted—to see her. She shuddered to think that he had recognised her in that moment; that while she had been welcoming him into her world, he had been calculating how he might profit from a resemblance that was of such profound importance to her. “I am a fool,” she said quietly. “I thought his interest in my family was kindly meant, but the whole time his questions were self-serving.”

“What sort of questions did he ask?” Oakley enquired.

“He always wanted to know whether my visits with you had gone well. He asked me once how close in age we all are. He was interested in whether there was a strong family resemblance.” She gave a small groan of despair. “It sounds obvious now what he was doing, but it did not seem so at the time. And I swear, I told him no more than was common knowledge. That my father had been estranged from his family, that my uncle is an earl, that I have two twin sisters and a cousin who is a viscount. I made sure to always say that you were my cousin.”

“You are certain of that?” Lord Tipton asked severely.

“Charles,” Lady Tipton said firmly. “Frederica has said she made sure, and we will not doubt her.”

His lordship held up his hands in apology, though it did not lessen Frederica’s distress. She was racking her mind to try and recall anything she might have said that could arm Mr Richmond with the truth but could think of nothing. “I am certain,” she said. “I was overly conscious of what I ought not to say every time he mentioned Oakley.”

“Did he mention me often?” her brother asked in alarm.

“No more than he mentioned Scarlett or Adelaide. Well…perhaps a little more. And then—” Frederica had not thought she could feel any worse, but as more memories tumbled into her head, she began to feel positively bilious with dismay. “During our last encounter, he asked about the ball at Cedarvale. He asked whether you had been a…a good little lord—whether you had played the part well.”

“Hell’s teeth, he knows!” Oakley cried. He had ceased pacing and paled alarmingly.

Lord Tipton shook his head. Unlike Oakley’s ashen complexion, his had reddened. He looked worried and very, very angry. “If he knew beyond a doubt, then believe me, we would know about it. My guess is, he is looking for proof. It cannot have been a complete coincidence that he was in that tavern when this Mr Dalton fellow was there. I suspect he was already in the area, looking for Frederica.”

“Perhaps, if his investigations were indiscreet, that is how everybody at Penrith’s ball had heard about her,” Worthe remarked.

Lord Tipton abruptly banged his cane on the floor. It made a loud thud against the carpet and observably vibrated with the force of the blow. “Damn him! He probably has suspected the truth since Adelaide was found, but he could not work on her—or Scarlett—because they were both with us—and then you.” He gestured at his nephews-in-law. “He has targeted Frederica precisely because she was unprotected. Of all the scheming, cowardly ploys. Robert must be turning in his grave!”

“But how could he possibly have known where she was?” Lady Tipton asked, pulling on her necklace hard enough that it looked liable to snap.

“It was no secret that we were looking for a woman who was born in that vicinity,” Kem pointed out. “Penrith knew enough of the story to recognise when he had found her, and he was not in our immediate circle.”

Frederica wished Scarlett and Adelaide had not looked at her with concern at Kem’s mention of the duke. If they had not, she might have done better at sailing past it unaffected. As it was, their compassion made it impossible to ignore, and a fresh stab of anguish twisted her already knotted insides.

“But I do not see why the discovery that Robert had daughters should be grounds for him to suddenly suspect that Oakley is not ours,” Lady Tipton said with a definite note of panic in her voice. “He has never questioned it before.”

“He never knew Robert had any children before,” Oakley said. “Until he knew about the girls, the possibility of me not being yours may never have occurred to him.”

“Well, it has as sure as the devil occurred to him now,” Lord Tipton said, rubbing his forehead. “What worries me most is that he has disappeared.”

“Dare we hope it means he has given up?” Worthe asked.

“I would be a fool to assume so,” his lordship replied. “Frederica, was there anything else, anything at all that you might have said to him that he could use? We will not blame you—we only need to know. ”

She shook her head, despairing of ever convincing him. “There was nothing. I was constantly anxious about saying something I should not, so I made sure to redirect the conversation every time a knotty subject arose. If he mentioned my sisters and I being orphaned, I spoke about our pleasure at being reunited. He tried once to talk about brothers, and I made sure to speak about Kem and Worthe. Another time, he said he thought Oakley must be keen to beget an heir, so I said he was not likely to soon be married after Mrs Beamish broke his heart.”

“What?” Oakley interrupted—so suddenly and so forcefully that Frederica jumped. The colour had returned to his face in force; he had reddened from the top of his collar to the tips of his ears.

“I am sorry,” Frederica said. “I did not mean to presume. It was just something I said in the heat of the moment to avoid the truth.”

“But why would you say her name?” he asked with an awkward laugh as though attempting to make light of his outburst.

Frederica hesitated. Surely it was no secret that Oakley had a partiality for Mrs Beamish? “I do not know. I suppose because you had mentioned her a few times. And Mr Milliard—sorry, Mr Richmond—seemed to find it interesting, so it made for an effective distraction.”

Oakley’s self-conscious smile altered to a frown. “What do you mean, he found it interesting?”

“Well, I…I remember that he seemed amused by the mention of her. He asked a few questions—who were her family, that sort of thing. ”

“Dear God, I must go to her!”

There was a brief pause, in which wary glances passed between everybody, then Lady Tipton said, cautiously, “I hardly think that is necessary, James.”

James , Frederica thought distractedly. She had not known that was Oakley’s given name. It felt almost disrespectful for her to find it out now, when he was standing in front of her, growing more agitated by the moment at the latest piece of bad news she had delivered.

“Do you not see?” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Damian has not found what he needs from Frederica, so he must find it by other means. Has Father not already said he will not give up so easily? And now he has disappeared after discovering—or thinking he has discovered—the name of a woman I admire. Where do you think he can have gone?”

“You think he means to importune Bess?” Scarlett cried, lurching forwards to the edge of her seat in distress.

Worthe reached across the arm of his chair to cover her hand with his. “It is highly unlikely, darling. Does she even know the truth?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I do not think so. I have never told her—not explicitly.”

“It does not matter,” Oakley said. “I do not wish to distress you, Scarlett, but even if Bess does not know the truth, Damian might still attempt to make us reveal it by threatening her.”

Scarlett gave a wordless cry. “Surely he would not hurt her?”

“We cannot rule it out,” Kem said darkly .

Scarlett looked at Lord Tipton in alarm. “Uncle?”

His lordship sighed heavily. “I am afraid Kemerton is right. If Damian has even the slightest suspicion that he might be the true heir, he will stop at nothing to prove it.”

Scarlett began to panic; Oakley said an oath; Lady Tipton closed her eyes and moved her lips as though she was saying a prayer. Frederica watched it all in abject dejection. Was nobody safe from the damage her na?vety had done? Would even Scarlett’s childhood friend be imperilled now?

It was suddenly too much. Her guilt, her heartache, this absolute disaster of a first meeting with her aunt and uncle—Frederica did not think she could bear any more. It felt as though the sky itself was pressing down on her, forcing the air from her lungs. Her breath began to come in quick, staccato gasps. Adelaide frowned and asked in a whisper whether she was well, but Frederica’s negative was lost amid the continuing commotion.

“We ought to at least write and ask whether the young lady is well, perhaps caution her husband,” Lord Tipton said.

“Stuff that for a game of soldiers!” Oakley cried. “I would see with my own eyes that Bess is well. I shall go myself.”

Then everybody began speaking at once: Scarlett to beg that somebody—anybody—would ensure the safety of her oldest friend; Lady Tipton to caution Oakley against an inappropriate display of concern for a married woman; Worthe to declare that he would go to the Beamishes’ home in Hertfordshire to vouchsafe their well-being; and Oakley to insist upon accompanying him.

A whirlwind of activity followed as everybody hastened away to make the necessary arrangements. Oakley and Worthe went to change. Scarlett removed to her room to pen a quick letter for her husband to deliver to her friend. Adelaide went with her to calm her down, for Scarlett was by then distraught with worry. With a promise to return momentarily, Lady Tipton left to speak to the housekeeper about a basket of food for the men to take with them. Frederica knew not where Kem and Lord Tipton went—just that they had gone and only she remained in Chiltern Court’s saloon.

She might have laughed if she were not so close to tears. The foundling daughter of the estranged son, home at last but still entirely alone. Shame and self-reproach were like a crushing weight upon her shoulders. She wished none of it had ever happened—that, when Mr Mulligan had asked her to show the new patron around Taverstock, she had refused. Then she would never have met Penrith, never have been reunited with her family—and never caused such pain to every one of them. Unable to look for another second at the family home she felt utterly undeserving of, she squeezed her eyes shut, put her head in her hands, and wept.