by Sandra Heath
“Is Miss Carlisle’s maid here?”
“No, my lord, she accompanied Miss Carlisle to the…” The butler’s voice died away unhappily for he, too was beginning to wonder if his mistress was at the rout. “She isn’t in the kitchen with the other servants, my lord,” he said.
“Then I suggest you go to Miss Carlisle’s room and see if she’s there.” Nicholas didn’t somehow think Linnet would take her maid with her on the hare-brained escapade he strongly feared she’d embarked upon tonight.
Without a word, the butler hurried up the staircase, and Nicholas waited impatiently for him to return. He glanced around the entrance hall, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror above the mantle-piece. He was dressed for Lady Lydney’s, in an indigo corded-silk coat, white pantaloons and stockings, and black shoes. If he hadn’t just happened to see Linnet’s carriage, he’d have been enjoying himself at the rout now, not scurrying around London because Miss Linnet Carlisle was possessed of a stubborn streak that verged on idiocy!
His thoughts broke off, for Sommers was returning, and with him was a rather wide-eyed, frightened Mary. The butler appeared to be both mortified that such deception had gone on under his watchful nose, and appalled that his mistress may have set out on a very hazardous course. He virtually dragged Mary before Nicholas. “Miss Carlisle’s maid, my lord. It seems you are right, Miss Carlisle has not gone to the rout, but has set out on quite another purpose.”
Nicholas drew a heavy breath, fixing the terrified Mary with a bright gaze. “Has your mistress gone to Portman Street tonight?”
“Yes, my lord,” she whispered.
“Tell me her exact plan.”
“When her carriage left with its blinds down, she went out through the mews in a hackney coach. She meant to enter Miss Jordan’s house from the garden if she could, to take a plume from the bedroom.”
Sommers looked faint.
Nicholas kept his gaze upon the maid. “What was she wearing? If I’m to stand any chance of rescuing her from this unbelievable folly, I need to know exactly what to look for.”
“She has a mask with a veil that covers the lower part of her face, a dark brown wig that’s very curly and quite long, and her gown is yellow.”
Nicholas saw the irony of it. Yellow? The very color that became her most. “How long ago did she leave?”
“About an hour, my lord.”
He didn’t say anything more, but snatched up his hat and gloves and strode from the house. He instructed his coachman to drive post haste to Portman Street mews, and then climbed into the carriage, slamming the door behind him.
The whip cracked, and the team’s hooves struck sparks from the wet cobbles. The wheels splashed through the puddles in the courtyard, and the lamps carved an arc of light through the rain-soaked darkness as the coachman maneuvered the vehicle out beneath the gateway.
* * *
At the ball, Linnet had at last succeeded in escaping from her persistent admirer. Under the pretext of being in dire need of a glass of champagne, she’d languished on a sofa and looked appealingly at him from behind her mask, and he’d hurried away to grant her her wish. The moment he’d disappeared, she left the sofa, mingling again in the crush. She fended off several other hopeful gentlemen by telling them she was already “spoken for,” and gradually managed to make her way toward the archway into the entrance hall. As she reached it, she realized with a start that the black footmen had left their places by the foot of the staircase; the way up to the bedrooms was suddenly clear. She glanced back at the ball, and saw that no one was as yet showing an interest in the bedrooms. On impulse, she decided to carry out her original plan, and remove one of Judith’s plumes after all. Surely she’d somehow manage to leave the house afterward? The doors couldn’t remain locked forever. Gathering her yellow skirts, she slipped swiftly up the staircase to the shadowy floor above, where very few candles indeed had been lit.
Behind her, a tall figure in cloth-of-silver emerged from the archway. The black plumes in Judith’s hair glittered, and her fan still moved gently to and fro, like the slow swishing of a cat’s tail. A cool smile touched her lips as she watched her quarry fleeing unknowingly up toward the bedrooms. Turning toward the kitchen door, she snapped her fingers, and the two footmen came to resume their positions at the foot of the staircase.
“Keep her up there until I’m quite ready to deal with her,” said the Cyprian softly, then she turned and went back into the ball.
Chapter 23
Nicholas’s carriage turned into the mews lane behind Judith’s house, negotiating the narrow confines and drawing up behind the hackney coach that Linnet had traveled in. Nicholas stepped down into the rain, turning up his collar and adjusting his top hat before going to speak to the hackney coachman.
“Are you waiting for a certain lady from Charles Street?” he asked.
The man was caught off guard, looking down suspiciously, his glance taking in Nicholas’s elegant evening clothes. What did this fancy cove want? “And if I am?” he replied warily.
“You need wait no more, for the lady will return with me.”
“My instructions…”
“No longer apply.” Nicholas took some coins from his pocket and held them up to the man. “This should more than recompense you for your trouble.”
“The lady requested me to wait for her, sir, and I intend to do just that.”
“Your devotion to duty does you credit, but, believe me, the lady will not be requiring your services. Take the money, and go.”
The man hesitated.
“Take it!” snapped Nicholas.
Reaching down, the man took the coins, then stirred his horse into action. The little coach bounced away along the lane, vanishing from sight around the corner at the far end.
Nicholas watched it with growing unease. He sensed that Judith had laid a careful trap, and that Linnet had stepped right into it. With a heavy sigh, he returned to his own coachman. “You know Miss Carlisle, do you not, James?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Well, I’m given to understand that tonight she is wearing a yellow gown and a dark brown wig. You are to detain her if she comes out before I return, is that clear?”
“Detain her?” The man’s eyes widened. Detain a lady?
“I’ll take full responsibility.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Nicholas turned, hurrying across the dark, wet lane toward the coach house. He hardly glanced at the ghostly white landau as he moved through the shadowy interior toward the door into the garden. The sounds of the ball drifted toward him as he walked up the path, and he could see people moving in the brilliantly lit drawing room. Leaving the path, he went quickly to a door that was almost concealed by shrubs. He tried to open it, but it was locked. He could only hope that the key was on the inside. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he walked on toward the kitchen door, going down the basement steps only to find that that door was also locked.
There were servants inside busily washing trays of champagne glasses, and he also recognized a number of waiters from Gunter’s. No one noticed him, and he tapped the glass to attract their attention.
The maid who was nearest to the door heard him immediately. She was a pretty fair-haired girl, and had long had a very soft spot for him. She came to unlock the door straightaway. “Oh, please come inside, my lord. I’m sorry the door was locked, but we have instructions to keep it so until further notice.”
I’m sure you have, he thought wryly, for it’s all part of Judith’s machination. He smiled at the maid. “Surely you haven’t been locked in like this all evening? I’ll warrant a goodly number of guests preferred to arrive this discreet way.”
“Oh, the door was open until a short while ago, my lord. I really don’t know why it is to be kept locked now.”
The butler suddenly realized that the maid was speaking unguardedly, and he came quickly over. “May I be of assistance, my lord?” he inquired, giving the unfortunate maid
a dark glance and waving her back to her tasks.
“Assistance?” murmured Nicholas, removing his top hat and handing it to him. “Well, unless the remaining doors between here and the main house are also locked…”
“I will unlock them immediately, my lord.”
“I’d be most obliged.”
The man bowed, preceding him up the steps to the entrance hall door, unlocking it as well, and standing deferentially aside for Nicholas to pass.
As Nicholas entered the hallway beyond, the butler closed the door and locked it again. Nicholas toyed with his lacy cuff, glancing back at the door. So, Linnet had been allowed complete freedom to enter, had she? It was all as he suspected, for he now knew beyond a doubt that she’d walked right into a trap.
The entrance hall was still relatively deserted, and the black footmen were still in their positions at the foot of the staircase. He was still debating what action to take when Judith herself suddenly emerged from the archway, her skirts swishing as she went to speak to the footmen. She didn’t see him.
“Is she still safely up there?” she asked, her voice carrying because at that moment Herr Heller’s Ensemble finished playing and there was a lull in the noise of the ball.
“Yes, Miss Jordan,” one of the footmen replied.
“Good. It’s taking a little longer than I’d planned, but I expect him to arrive at any moment. You are to remain here until further instructions.”
“Yes, Miss Jordan.”
Still without seeing Nicholas standing at the far end of the hall, she turned and went back through the archway.
Nicholas glanced thoughtfully up at the staircase. It could only be Linnet to whom Judith had been referring. A disagreeable denouement was evidently lying in store for the mistress of Carlisle House, and while it wouldn’t entail physical harm coming to her, for not even the Bird of Paradise would sink so low in order to defeat a rival, it would most definitely not be pleasant. He had a very good idea what the Cyprian’s purpose was, and knew that if he rescued Linnet in time he could spare her from one half of the denouement, but he also knew that he could only postpone the other half, for there were certain very painful facts that Miss Linnet Carlisle was going to have to face sooner or later. If he had any say in the matter, however, those painful facts would certainly be faced later, for she had to be removed from this place without delay. But how? That was indeed the question. Judith had chosen her guards well, for those particular two footmen were known to always stick rigidly to their orders, and tricking them into leaving their posts would require considerable cunning. Oh, perdition take Linnet Carlisle and her fighting spirit. Why couldn’t she have been a meek, spineless nonentity who’d no more have thought of entering such a house than she’d have dreamed of flying to the moon?
* * *
In the meantime, Linnet remained totally unaware of the danger she was in. On reaching the top of the staircase, she’d glanced back down, and, thinking herself safe, had moved out of sight into the passage that ran from the front to the back of the house. She didn’t see the footmen silently resuming their positions, cutting off her escape.
Very few candles had been lit where she now was, and those that were had been placed beneath special stands supporting open pot-pourri jars. The flames warmed the flower petals within, releasing perfume into the still air. She hesitated, glancing along the passage in both directions, and then decided to see if Judith’s room was at the front of the house, which seemed the obvious choice.
The carpet beneath her feet was soft and almost sensuous as she moved silently away from the vicinity of the staircase. There were a number of doors opening off the passage, and each one had an ornately carved architrave. Pausing for a moment, she saw that the carvings were of a decidedly voluptuous nature, with numerous cupids and depictions of naked lovers. Her eyes widened a little, for some of the carvings were very explicit, and she hurried on toward the white-and-gold double doors at the end of the passage.
Opening them carefully, she slipped into the dimly lit room beyond. It was an elegant chamber, its walls hung with white silk and its floor covered with yet another deep, soft carpet, but although it was exquisitely furnished, her instinct told her that it wasn’t Judith’s room.
With a disappointed sigh, she turned to look back along the passage. There was nothing for it but to examine what lay behind every door. Gathering her skirts, she moved back the way she’d come, opening the first door and looking inside. It was another candlelit bedroom, as luxuriously furnished as the first, but still quite obviously not that of the Bird of Paradise herself.
The same applied to each chamber she peeped cautiously into, and soon there was only one door left, a double door like that at the front of the house, but opening into a room at the rear, overlooking the garden.
As she was approaching it, however, she thought she heard a sound on the staircase. She froze, but no one came up. Her heartbeats had quickened with alarm, and she wasted no more time, but hurried the final few steps to the remaining double doors, opening them quickly and stepping safely inside out of sight.
Glancing around, she knew immediately that she’d found what she was looking for. Judith’s room was sumptuously furnished in pink and gold, with exquisitely ruched pink silk draped against the walls. The tall windows were hung with gold-tasseled rose velvet, and an immense four-poster bed occupied pride of place in the very center of the floor. It was the largest bed Linnet had ever seen, and the strangest, for although it was a four-poster, it had no canopy, so that whoever occupied it could gaze right up to the ceiling and see themselves in the mirror that was fixed there. There were other mirrors, so that Linnet’s reflection moved on all sides as she went further into the room, determined to find one of the Cyprian’s famous plumes. The carpet was woven with cherubs, and more cherubs were carved on the bedposts and around the door behind her. Several pot-pourri jars were on elegant tables against the wall, the candles beneath them casting a soft, dim light over everything. The air was warm, and sweet with the scent of flowers. She removed her mask, to see more easily. A sudden movement on the bed startled her so much that she dropped the mask, but then she saw that it was only Judith’s white poodle. The dog’s eyes shone in the semi-darkness, and it whined a little, sitting up with its tail wagging. Linnet glanced around again, forgetting to pick up the fallen mask as with something of a start she found herself looking at a painting on the wall. It was of Judith, naked and reclining on a sofa, and the eyes seemed to be looking directly at her. Uncomfortably conscious of the painted gaze, Linnet continued to look around. There was a door leading off the room, and she went quickly over to it and found that it opened into a dressing room beyond. A solitary candle stood on the frilled pink muslin dressing table, throwing a faint, moving light over the line of huge wardrobes built against the wall. The dressing table was laden with jars, phials, combs, pin dishes, brushes, and numerous jewelry boxes, but there was something else lying on it, too; one of the black plumes that Judith was wearing tonight.
With a triumphant gasp, Linnet hurried over to pick it up. The sequins shimmered and winked as the candle-flame swayed, and the vane brushed softly against her fingers. She saw immediately why it had been left behind, for the shaft was broken halfway along. Linnet gazed at it for a moment, and then bent to raise her skirt in order to tuck the plume neatly into her garter, so that it would lie concealed against her leg. But as she lowered her skirt again, she heard a soft step behind her.
Her breath caught, and she began to whirl about, but a hand was clamped roughly over her mouth, stopping her from making any sound. At the same time another viselike hand grabbed her around the waist, and she was hopeless to defend herself.
A harsh voice whispered urgently in her ear. “Be still now, or believe me, things will be unpleasant for you!”
Nicholas? She was frightened and confused, but could still recognize his voice. Helpless against her assailant’s strength, she tried to turn her head to see his face.
&
nbsp; “Not a sound, Linnet,” he breathed. “I’ve sent those footmen on a wild goose chase, by telling them Judith needed them urgently. They believed me because I’ve always been her friend, but they’ll soon realize I’m not here as her friend tonight.”
Slowly he removed his hand from her mouth, and at last she could twist her head to look at him. “Nicholas? Why…?”
He put on finger to her lips. “Just do everything I tell you if you wish to escape with your reputation and virtue intact.” Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the furthest of the wardrobes and opened the door. It was the wardrobe where Judith stored her many famous plumes, and was large enough to step inside.
Linnet resisted a little. “But, why go in there?”
“Goddamm it, woman, just do as I bid you!” he breathed sharply, forcibly dragging her into the plume-filled darkness.
The door didn’t fully close behind them, and Linnet turned to look back, for Nicholas was occupied searching for something at the rear of the wardrobe. She could see across the dressing room into the bedroom beyond, and heard the poodle give a sudden glad bark. The door from the landing passage opened, and the little dog jumped down from the bed, pattering past the mask lying on the floor where Linnet had dropped it.
But Linnet hardly saw the dog or the mask, for she was too intent upon the two persons who entered the bedroom. One was Judith, and the other was a masked gentleman who seemed uncomfortably familiar. The Cyprian glanced swiftly around the bedroom, as if hoping to see someone. Finding the room apparently deserted, her expression became displeased, but then she saw the mask on the floor and a cool smile touched her full lips.
She turned to her gentleman friend, and he immediately removed his mask as he drew her into his arms to kiss her on the lips. The moment his face was revealed Linnet’s heart almost stopped with shock, for it was Benedict. He crushed the Cyprian in a passionate embrace, and it was obvious that this was far from being the first time he’d made love to London’s most famous demi-mondaine.
