by Sandra Heath
Chapter 18
It was an hour after dawn when the final guests drove away across the misty courtyard. A few street calls could already be heard in the distance, and there was a luminosity in the air that told of yet another fine August day to come. Sommers supervised the extinguishing of all lights, and Venetians carriage was driven in readiness for Benedict to the steps of the house, for he alone remained to take his leave.
Great-Aunt Minton had retired to her room, and Venetia waited discreetly at the foot of the staircase in the entrance hall while Benedict said a tender farewell to Linnet. The cool morning air breathed damply in through the open doors, and the jingle of harness could be heard as the waiting horses tossed their heads.
He held Linnet close, his lips moving against her hair. “To leave you now is unbelievable torture, my darling,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes, the wretchedness of guilt lingering in her heart. How could she have betrayed him? How could she have been so weak as to allow Nicholas to pierce her armor again? Tears stung her eyes, and she drew back.
He misinterpreted, taking her ring hand and kissing the fourth finger. “It will not be long now, my love,” he murmured. “Soon we will be man and wife, and I will never again have to leave you like this.”
The horses in the courtyard tossed their heads again, straining to be off, and the coachman spoke sharply to them. Benedict glanced toward the open doors. “I must go. Until tomorrow night, then.”
She managed a smile. “Tonight, you mean.”
He smiled, too. “Yes, I suppose I do. Until tonight, then.”
“Yes.”
He hesitated, and then kissed her again before hurrying out into the dawn. She heard the whip crack, and then the carriage was driving away toward the main gates. She listened until all sound had died away, and then turned to walk toward the patiently waiting Venetia.
With a smile, Venetia took her hands. “He’s right, it won’t be long before you’re man and wife. You and I must begin planning straightaway, for I cannot wait to begin arranging it all.” Her smile became a little sheepish. “I fear the bit is well and truly between my teeth after tonight’s success. Oh, how my vanity was flattered by all that praise.”
Linnet laughed a little as they began to ascend the staircase. “I think I should be a little jealous, for you certainly stole my thunder being so very brilliant with your decorations.”
“You don’t really feel like that about it, do you?” asked Venetia, pausing in sudden anxiety.
“No, of course not. I’m delighted that your efforts were such a triumph.”
“I shall do your wedding even more splendidly.”
“I’ve no doubt of it, for you certainly have a flair for such things.”
“Devonshire House is extinct,” Venetia observed with feline relish.
“Poor Lady Georgiana.”
They reached the top of the staircase, and Venetia turned to face her.
“Wasn’t Herr Heller a stroke of genius? I’ve never heard such music, and the guests were all much impressed, too. I vow I’ve started a new rage, just as I planned. There was one plan that didn’t go off, though, wasn’t there?”
“Was there?”
“Of course, you ninny. La Jordan didn’t get in.”
“Oh.” Linnet smiled. “I was on tenterhooks all the time that she’d somehow manage to slip in.”
“Instead, it was Nicholas who slipped in. Linnet, how do you think he got that invitation?”
“I have no idea. He insists that it was sent to him, but I don’t believe him.”
“It must have been an awful moment for you when he suddenly arrived.”
“It was,” replied Linnet candidly.
“I’m so sorry Benedict and I chose that of all times to take our stroll in the gardens.”
“It was hardly your fault.”
“I think it bad enough of Nicholas to attend at all, let alone to single you out so publicly for the ländler.”
“I suppose the ballroom was buzzing about it when you returned?”
“Yes, it was, rather.” Venetia paused, looking at her. “Where did you and he get to?”
“Get to?” Linnet trusted she sounded natural. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, I gather the dance ended, and you and he seem to have vanished from the floor.”
“I promise you I left him as quickly as I could,” replied Linnet, neither telling the truth nor lying. She drew a long breath. “I wonder how many of my guests are now under the impression that I deliberately invited him?”
“Too many for comfort, I fancy.”
Linnet signed. “No doubt that was his sole purpose—well, almost his sole purpose.”
“What do you mean?”
Linnet sighed, and decided to confide a little. “He seems intent upon advising me against marrying Benedict.”
Venetia stared at her. “He’s what?”
“He’s trying to prevent the marriage.” Linnet glanced past her, for the door to the back staircase had opened and Mary emerged with Venetia’s maid. They were hastening to their respective mistress’s rooms with candlesticks, for the windows would remain shuttered for them to sleep. Linnet smiled at Mary. “I will be along in a moment.”
“Yes, Miss Linnet.” The maid bobbed a quick curtsy, and then hurried on.
Venetia waited until both maids were out of earshot, and then spoke again. “If he’s trying to stop the match, does that signify he’s had second thoughts and now wants you back?”
Linnet gave a wry laugh. “No, he doesn’t want me. I just think he’s being a dog in the manger.”
“Are you sure it’s just that?”
“Oh, quite sure.”
Venetia smiled after a moment. “Well, what does he matter? You have Benedict now.”
“Yes.”
They didn’t say anything more, for at that moment Mary’s rather tremulous voice carried along the passage. “M-Miss Linnet? I th-think you’d better come.”
Linnet turned, puzzled. The maid was standing by the bedroom door, the candlestick still in her hand. “What is it, Mary?”
“S-Someone’s been here. Your ribbon stand has been tampered with, and the ribbons are all over the floor.”
Followed by Venetia, Linnet hurried along to the doorway. The maid stepped inside, holding the candlestick aloft for them to see. The wavering light fell over the room, illuminating the dressing table. The ribbons had been tossed in confusion over the floor, but some remained on the stand, tied neatly into bows. Those that remained like this were the special ribbons, woven with linnets.
Taking the candlestick from the maid, Linnet went to see more closely. Venetia and Mary came too, and they trod carefully over the profusion on the floor in order to examine the rather odd bows on the stand itself.
Linnet ran her fingertips over them. Someone had gone to immense trouble to single out these particular ribbons, tying them in very neat, even bows. Why? Who would bother? Mary’s breath caught suddenly. “Miss Linnet, one of the special ribbons is missing!”
“Which one?”
“The cream one with the golden edging. It was there when I dressed your hair earlier, I know it was.”
Linnet stared at the ribbon stand again. Yes, that ribbon had been there earlier. She drew a long, shuddering breath, for it was suddenly all quite clear. “Judith Jordan was here. Somehow she got in after all,” she said quietly.
“Oh, Miss Linnet.” Mary looked at her in dismay.
Venetia put a quick hand on Linnet’s arm. “You can’t be sure of that.”
“Oh, yes I can. She swore she’d acquire a trophy, and she has. I’m the only person who wears those ribbons, and the only way she could purloin one would be to get into this house and take it. She’s been here, not only in this house, but in this very room.” Linnet held the candlestick up again, turning to look around at the moving shadows.
“Oh, Miss Linnet! Your lovely roses!” With a cry, Mary hurried to the baske
t. It had been roughly overturned, and its contents spilled over the floor.
As the maid set the basket upright again and began to rescue the roses, Linnet noticed some little fragments of white paper scattered on the carpet nearby. Bending, she retrieved one. It was a portion of the card Benedict had sent with the roses.
“What is it?” asked Venetia curiously.
“The card that came with the basket.”
Venetia stared at her. “But, why on earth would Judith Jordan bother to do anything to the roses?”
“I don’t know. Petty amusement, no doubt. Or to show me how utterly she holds me in contempt.” As she spoke, a silent thought whirled bitterly around in her head; Nicholas had lied yet again, for contrary to his denials, he had aided and abetted his mistress in her spiteful purpose. What else was there to believe? His arrival had been intended as a diversion, for no doubt Judith had been with him as he entered the house, and while Sommers’s attention had been distracted by the sudden appearance of a gentleman who was supposed to have been banned from the premises but who had somehow acquired an invitation, she had slipped upstairs to this room to carry out her plan. Yes, that was how it had been done; like most clever plans, its simplicity had made it successful.
Venetia put a gentle hand on her arm. “It might not have been her, Linnet. There are a number of disappointed ladies who envy you your match with Benedict. Any one of them could have come up here and…”
“If it had just been a matter of spilling the roses, I might have wondered, but what possible reason could such a lady have for stealing a ribbon, or for making so certain that the theft was discovered? No, it was Judith, make no mistake about it.”
Venetia fell silent, and there was no sound in the room except for the rustle of the roses as Mary rearranged them in the basket.
Venetia glanced at Linnet. “Shall you pick up the gauntlet?”
“Gauntlet?”
“By attending the Cyprian’s ball next Wednesday?”
Linnet gave a rather taut smile. “My first instinct is to say yes, but common sense tells me to stay well away. She may have slipped in and out of here without detection, but I might not be so lucky, and she has no reputation to forfeit, whereas I most definitely have.”
Venetia nodded. “You’re probably very wise, but I marvel at your restraint.”
“You, I suppose, would enter the fray?”
“Well, hers is a masked ball, which does, you will admit, rather lengthen the odds in your favor. Still, I am a wicked, worldly widow, and you are a demure young lady who is only just betrothed, so perhaps I shouldn’t seem to be encouraging you to do anything scandalous. Your great-aunt would nail my hide to the wall if she could hear me.”
“I would indeed, Lady Hartley,” said a rather frosty voice from the doorway behind them.
Great-Aunt Minton stood there in her voluminous white nightgown, her gray hair falling in two plaits from beneath her night bonnet. She advanced into the room, her glance resting angrily upon Venetia. “I find your so-called advice somewhat questionable, my lady.”
Linnet spoke up quickly. “It wasn’t as it may have sounded, Great-Aunt.”
“No?” The old lady’s glance took in the ribbons and the roses. “What has been going on?”
Linnet inhaled slowly. “I’m rather afraid that Judith Jordan was successful in her plan. She came in here and took one of my ribbons.”
“I see. Well, there was always the possibility that she’d carry it off, I suppose. But I see no reason whatsoever for you, Lady Hartley, to urge Linnet to pursue a foolish tit-for-tat response.”
Venetia lowered her eyes a little guiltily. “I’m sorry, Miss Minton, I didn’t mean to speak out of turn. Perhaps it’s time I went to my room. Good night, Linnet.” With a quick, apologetic smile, she hurried out.
Great-Aunt Minton glanced at Mary. “Please wait outside, for I wish to speak privately with your mistress.”
“Yes, madam.” Mary hurried out, closing the door softly behind her.
Linnet faced her great-aunt. “It really wasn’t necessary to speak to Venetia like that.”
“On the contrary, it was very necessary indeed. I don’t care for the influence she has over you, for she is somewhat lacking in principle.”
The old lady paused, eyeing her. “Do we know yet how Lord Fane acquired his invitation?”
“No.”
“So much for your detailed arrangements for keeping undesirables out.”
“If only I knew who sent it to him.”
“Was it a genuine invitation?”
“Apparently. Sommers believed it to be so.”
“Then it must be so,” murmured her great-aunt.
“I don’t know how Nicholas obtained it, but I do know why he did so.”
“Pray tell.”
“It was a ploy to help Judith Jordan to get in.”
“Did he admit that to you?”
“No,” conceded Linnet, “but then I’ve long since given up expecting him to tell the truth about anything.” She looked away, for she suddenly remembered the kiss in the conservatory. He’d shown her the truth about herself in those few seconds, and it was a truth she despised.
“Is something wrong, my dear?” inquired her great-aunt, noting her manner.
“No, of course not.”
Great-Aunt Minton glanced at her ring. “He won’t make you happy, you know, and you certainly won’t come to love him as you think you will.”
Linnet felt the color touching her cheeks, and was glad of the dim light from the candlestick. “Don’t let’s quarrel again, Great-Aunt.”
The old lady smiled sadly. “We’ll never agree on this particular subject, I fear. Very well, I’ll leave you to rest. Oh, by the way…”
“Yes?”
“You are on no account to even contemplate Lady Hartley’s disreputable advice concerning that masked ball. It simply would not do at all, is that clear?”
“Yes, Great-Aunt.”
“Good. Good night, my dear.”
“Goodnight.”
As the door closed on the old lady, Linnet turned to look at the chinks of light piercing the shutters. The sun was up now, and the street calls were echoing all over Mayfair. She knew her great-aunt’s counsel was wise, but, oh, the temptation to go against it!
Chapter 19
Sleep proved virtually impossible, even though she was exhausted. After tossing restlessly for an hour, Linnet lay there awake, thinking about what had happened. Anger and resentment welled within her that Judith Jordan had carried out her threat after all, and there was an intense hurt that Nicholas had once again proved himself to be all that was low and despicable.
A confusion of emotions swirled through her. She didn’t want to think about events in the conservatory, but she knew she had to. Briefly, oh, so briefly, she’d given in to feelings she’d hoped had been extinguished forever, feelings that had again lifted her to heights of desire she hadn’t experienced for the past year. Benedict’s kisses were tender and warm, but Nicholas’s were an irresistible invitation to passionate fulfillment. She loathed her weakness, and was bitterly ashamed at having failed Benedict on the night of their betrothal.
She felt sick at heart as she gazed up at the shadowy hangings of the bed. Sunlight found its way into the room around the shutters, and the sounds of Mayfair drifted in quite clearly. Carriages drove along Charles Street, and once she thought she heard one in the courtyard, but then a church bell began to ring out and she heard no more.
There was no hope of falling asleep again, and at last, she gave up trying. Sitting up, she rang for Mary, and within a few minutes the maid came in with a light breakfast tray. On the tray was a brief note from Venetia, and Linnet soon realized that she had indeed heard a carriage in the courtyard, for Venetia had returned to Fane Crescent.
The note had been hastily scribbled. I think it prudent to remove myself from your great-aunt’s vicinity, but promise to call upon you very shortly, as not even an
outraged Miss Minton can keep me from early discussion of wedding plans. Venetia.
Linnet sighed, and supposed that such a hasty departure was only to be expected after the sharp confrontation with the somewhat irate old lady.
Daylight flooded into the room as Mary opened the shutters, and Linnet sipped a cup of tea but left the breakfast, as she had no appetite at all. Today should have been so happy, but instead, thanks to Nicholas and his loathsome Bird of Paradise, it was very depressing indeed. She was betrothed to Benedict because she’d told herself that in time she would love him as fully as she should, but now, in the cold light of day, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Just how many insults and hurts did Nicholas have to deal her before she could be over him once and for all? He’d been unfaithful, he’d lied and cheated, and he’d treated her more shabbily than she’d ever dreamed possible, but still she was fool enough to yearn for him. Was ever there a greater or more gullible fool than she?
A little later, she sat before the dressing table for Mary to brush and pin her hair. She wore a pink-and-white-checkered muslin gown, and her plain white shawl lay in readiness over the back of a nearby chair.
All traces of Judith’s intrusion into the room had been removed. The ribbons were back on their stand, and the roses had been carefully rearranged in their basket, but, to Linnet, the Cyprian’s presence was still almost tangible. That a woman like the Bird of Paradise had had the effrontery to come into the house after all, was too much to stomach, and Linnet found herself again contemplating paying the demi-mondaine back in kind. Would it be possible to attend the Portman Street masked ball, and remove a retaliatory memento? It would be sweet revenge, and no mistake. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear Mary address her.
“Miss Linnet?” said the maid again.
“Mm?” Linnet aroused herself, looking at the maid in the mirror. “I’m sorry, Mary. Did you say something?”
“I was wondering if there were any particular clothes you wished me to put out for you today?”
“No, I don’t think so. A quiet day would appear to be wise, so I won’t be going out at all.”
