At the Earl's Convenience

by Maggi Andersen

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day before Selina was to depart for the country, a caller sent up her card and insisted on waiting for an answer. Selina studied the name printed in embossed silver: Lady Rowntree.

  Selina paused, both curious and hopeful of information. “Please show Lady Rowntree to the drawing room, Hawkins.” She left the linen she was sorting and went to her bedchamber to tidy her hair.

  Moments later, she found a pretty woman of a similar age to herself, sitting on the satin settee. At Selina’s entrance, she rose and curtseyed gracefully.

  “Lady Halcrow, thank you for seeing me. It’s rash of me to call like this, but I’ve long wished to meet you. My husband, Lord Rowntree, is a friend of the earl’s of long standing.”

  “Please do sit, Lady Rowntree.” Selina had never seen such an elegant costume. Certainly not in any of the fashion magazines Anne so eagerly perused. The lady’s crimson wrap was trimmed at the collar and cuffs with spotted ermine. The matching fur hat covered most of her hair, except for her auburn fringe.

  “Is your husband an army man, Lady Rowntree?”

  “No, not the army. He and Lord Halcrow were at Cambridge together, and these schoolboy friendships seem to endure, do they not?”

  Devereux had told her nothing of his friends. Selina turned to the tea tray the maid had placed at her elbow. She opened the tea caddy and added spoonfuls of tea to the silver teapot. It helped order her racing mind to perform the ritual. She poured in hot water and replaced the lid, leaving it to steep. “Milk?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I’m afraid my husband hasn’t mentioned Lord Rowntree,” Selina said, offering the lady a plate of dainty cress sandwiches.

  Lady Rowntree took one and bit into it with small teeth. With a nod, she took the china teacup and saucer with the Halcrow crest in gold. “I am here with a request, Lady Halcrow. I hoped to persuade you to accompany me this evening. There is still a dearth of good company in London, and I find myself with an extra ticket for the ballet. Pygmalion is to be performed at the Royal Theatre.”

  “How good of you to think of me.” Selina stirred sugar into her tea. “I wonder how you discovered that I’m here in London alone, Lady Rowntree.”

  “Did you think you could come here unobserved?” she said with a tinkling laugh. “The new Countess of Halcrow is the talk of the drawing rooms. I have only one ticket to offer, and you seemed the perfect choice, as we are both without our husbands. Lord Rowntree is away from London on business, and I’m in sore need of feminine company.”

  “I confess surprise that my arrival has been so quickly noted.”

  “The ton thrives on gossip, Lady Halcrow. I don’t indulge in it, but I confess I’ve wanted to meet you since your husband told us of his marriage.”

  Selina bent her head over her cup. “Oh? When was that?”

  “Why, when was it?” She tapped her cheek. “One loses track of time. A few weeks now it was. He said you were indisposed and unable to accompany him.”

  “A cold has kept me in the country,” Selina said. If Devereux was in London, why didn’t he stay at Halcrow House? “I should be delighted to join you, Lady Rowntree.”

  Lady Rowntree laid a gloved hand on Selina’s arm. “Amelia, please. Let us dispense with formality. I feel we shall become firm friends.”

  Selina smiled. “Selina.”

  “Selina. It’s unusual for me to take an immediate liking to someone. I am not in the habit of it, I assure you. I know we shall have a most pleasant evening together. My cousin, Mr. Brocklehurst, will escort us.”

  It was not the ballet on her mind when Selina dressed for the evening. She was keen to learn more about Devereux tonight. She’d chosen the Pomona green velvet, trimmed round the bottom with a border of lace, which she’d had made for her honeymoon. To please him. He’d yet to see the dress. He wanted her to wear green. Remembering his words when half-asleep after their discussion of Greensleeves—“you’re my delight”—caused her to wipe her eyes. Selina sniffed as she put on her pearl earrings. Where was Devereux? She put her stocking feet into silver kid slippers then pulled on her white French kid gloves.

  She checked her appearance in the mirror, and a frisson of nerves tingled down her spine. It was daunting to move amongst the ton without Devereux’s support, although she still welcomed the opportunity.

  A carriage stopped outside. Selina pulled aside the curtain and stared down into the street. A man climbed the steps and to the front door.

  Selina came down the stairs in her evening cloak to find a short, dark-haired man waiting in the entry. He bowed. “Mr. Brocklehurst, Lady Halcrow.” His rather swarthy appearance bore little family resemblance to Amelia.

  “You are not English, Mr. Brocklehurst?”

  “No, my lady. I hail from the Irish branch of the family.” He took her arm and escorted her to the waiting carriage.

  Lady Rowntree leaned forward. “Good evening, dear Lady Halcrow. I trust my cousin has introduced himself.”

  “I have indeed,” Mr. Brocklehurst said, sitting opposite them.

  “Thank you for inviting me, this evening,” Selina said. “I am greatly looking forward to the ballet.”

  The carriage rolled forward. Amelia was again handsomely dressed, looking every inch a modern lady in her white satin gown beneath a fur-lined evening cape, a matching cap covering her hair.

  “As am I.” Amelia’s gaze settled on her pearls. “So wise of you not to wear the Halcrow emeralds,” she said with her tinkling laugh. “It wouldn’t do to have them lost or stolen while your husband is away. He might suspect you’d sold them.”

  “The emeralds are being repaired.” Devereux had never mentioned them, and she’d certainly never seen them. “A broken clasp,” Selina added. Her jewelry was more suitable for an unwed girl. Most of her mother’s jewelry was now Anne’s, as eldest child.

  “I prefer diamonds.” Amelia fondled the magnificent necklace gracing her throat.

  “Some wives have paste copies made, after they lose at loo,” Mr. Brocklehurst said with an appreciative eye on Amelia’s necklace. “I must say,” he went on, “that I am twice blessed this evening. Two lovely ladies on my arm.”

  “Lud, Rafe.” Amelia tapped her fan on his knee. “In truth, you are sick to death of your cousin’s company, which is why I invited Lady Halcrow to entertain us.”

  The carriage wound its way through London traffic, toward Covent Garden. When they dismounted in Drury Lane, they made their way into the bustling foyer. The noise quite made her ears ring. Thousands of patrons attended the performance in the grand theatre. Settling in Amelia’s box, Selina searched the rows of seats. Ridiculous to think Devereux would be here.

  Heads turned in her direction, opera glasses trained on her, and she was relieved when the ballet began. She wished she could do justice to the wonderful dancers floating light as air across the stage.

  Rafe disappeared at interval. She and Amelia remained in their box drinking coffee while the ton drifted in to meet her.

  When the program continued, Selina’s gaze continually raked the theatre for Devereux. It was foolish. Of course, he wasn’t here.

  At the conclusion, they walked down to the foyer where more of the beau monde gathered around Selina. Remembering Scovell’s warning, she was unnerved at attracting so much attention. She settled with relief into the carriage.

  “We must go somewhere for supper. Shall we attend Lord Pemberton’s soirée? Amelia asked. “I have a standard invitation, and Pem will be delighted to meet the Earl of Halcrow’s wife. He is a good friend of your husband’s, you know.”

  “A capital idea,” Rafe said. “Do you not agree, Lady Halcrow?”

  Selina agreed. As the man was a friend of Devereux’s, perhaps she could learn more from him.

  They traveled north of the city and turned through gates in a high brick wall where a three-storied mansion was ablaze with candlelight. When they left the carriage and approached the en
try, a series of loud bangs sounded.

  Selina stared up into the sky where, in the distance, bright colors drifted down through the smoke haze. “What was that?”

  “I see you haven’t been to Vauxhall Gardens,” Amelia said. “Another treat in store. Vauxhall is on the south bank of the Thames. We’ll go one evening to listen to the orchestra, have a cold supper, and watch the fireworks.” She took Selina’s arm as they moved forward. “But tonight, I’m eager to introduce you to Pem.”

  In a reception room, a tall, elegant man stood by the fireplace, delivering an oration to the attentive group gathered around him.

  He finished to enthusiastic clapping. Amelia hurried forward. “Pem, I’ve brought you the Earl of Halcrow’s bride. Lady Halcrow, Lord Pemberton.”

  Selina guessed him to be close to Devereux’s age. Penetrating brown eyes assessed her. “Charmed. Why haven’t I had the pleasure?”

  “I lived in Bath before my marriage, Lord Pemberton.”

  “A cultivated place, Bath, architecturally speaking,” he said, managing to praise it and denigrate it in the one sentence. The room broke into laughter.

  Selina was tempted to defend Bath, by listing the impressive personages who resided there and those who came to take the waters, including the Prince of Wales. She resisted, not wishing to sound provincial and give authenticity to his statement.

  “The town does breed unusual beauties,” he said. “I’ll grant it that.”

  Her cheeks warmed under everyone’s scrutiny. “If that’s a compliment, then thank you, my lord,” she said. “But if your observation of Bath is anything to go by, I fear it is not.”

  He laughed as polite applause spread through the room. “I am seldom known to be clumsy or inarticulate, but feel I’ve been both.” He took her arm. “If you’ll permit me, my lady, I shall find you a glass of champagne, and we’ll talk”—he turned to the assembled gathering who hung on every word—“where there are fewer ears.”

  As they left the room and the hum of conversation behind them, someone said loudly, “Pem’s got a beauty in his sights.” Laughter floated out the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Whisking two glasses of champagne off the waiter’s tray, Lord Pemberton guided her out through the French windows onto the terrace.

  “I don’t want our conversation overheard. If you’re cold I’ll fetch your cloak.”

  Selina tensed. “I’d rather hear what you have to say, Lord Pemberton.”

  The London fogs had forsaken them tonight. Clouds shifted across the moon, creating a play of light and shade over Lord Pemberton’s pensive face as he sipped his wine.

  “And why has Devereux deserted his lovely bride?”

  Selina was keen to question this man, but Scovell’s warning made her reticent. “My husband has been called to the country, my lord. A sick relative who resides in Tunbridge Wells. He will return to London soon.”

  Pem’s face was shadowed. “Dev’s Uncle Alistair is unwell?”

  Selina bit her lip. Devereux had only one relative. What if rumors reached Uncle Alistair of his purported illness? “Yes.”

  “You didn’t feel the need to accompany your husband on his familial duty, Lady Halcrow?”

  “I was suffering from a cold,” she said, marveling at her ability to lie so adroitly. “Devereux thought it wise for me to await him in London.”

  The playful moon escaped the clouds again. She caught the intensity of his expression. “I sense you don’t trust me, Lady Halcrow. I need to put your mind at rest,” he said. “My father is Lord Privy Seal.”

  “Sir Arthur Pemberton, the leader of the House of Lords is your father?” Her regular study of the broadsheets kept her well informed.

  “I hope to follow in his footsteps one day. Your husband and I go back quite a way.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “We were in the same year up at Cambridge. Halcrow went into the army, I into politics.”

  “Was Lord Rowntree also at Cambridge with you?”

  He looked surprised. “Why yes, he was.” He drank from his glass. “I have heard Dev’s in trouble, Lady Halcrow. I want to help him.”

  “How might you do that?”

  He leaned over the balustrade, staring down into the dark garden. “I have reason to believe he’s turned his back on England since his father’s estates were taxed almost out of existence. He believes the stress killed his father. I fear he now spies for Napoléon.”

  Selina’s heart squeezed in anguish. “That’s not true!”

  “You must know that Devereux’s mother was French.”

  “Does that necessarily make him a spy? I don’t see the significance.”

  He cast her a cool glance. “I welcome you to disprove my theory, Lady Halcrow. If you can.”

  “I don’t see that I need to. My husband is a proud Englishman. His bravery during his years in the army—”

  “A man can be a hero to some and a traitor to others. It depends on where his loyalties lie.”

  Selina shook her head. “This does not fit the man, Lord Pemberton. Not the man I know.”

  “Do you know him that well?”

  “How well do you know him? You were friends you say, but you’ve decided without proof that he is a traitor to his country.”

  “I don’t want to believe it,” he said with grimace of dismay.

  Selina hesitated. His voice was so filled with emotion she was tempted to believe him. “Did Lady Rowntree bring me here at your request?”

  “I need you to help me help him, Lady Halcrow. Are you brave enough?”

  “I don’t see how you can help him. Not if you believe him to be a traitor. You want to see him hang from the gallows.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said intently. “If he’s guilty, I can get him out of the country. He won’t live long in England.”

  Selina sucked in a breath. “Why do you feel so passionately that you must help him?”

  “Because he once saved my life and because we have been good friends.”

  “Devereux saved your life? How?”

  “A rowing accident at Cambridge.”

  “What happened?”

  He brushed her question aside with a motion of his arm. “You must place an article in The Times. It will bring Devereux out of hiding, and a small band of his loyal friends will be able to help him.”

  She gasped. “You’re asking too much. How can I trust you?”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s just as well not to trust anyone, I agree. But I only ask that you do this one thing. Your husband’s no fool. Dev will judge for himself whether it’s safe or not. Include some personal detail that only the two of you know,” he continued, as if she hadn’t refused his request. “I’ll send a footman for your answer tomorrow. Please give it serious thought, Lady Halcrow. No one else will learn any of this.”

  She put a hand to her temple. Her head had begun aching again. This was really all too much. She must think. “I’d like to retire, Lord Pemberton.”

  He bowed. “I’ll send for Lady Rowntree. Please allow me to see you to your carriage.”

  On the way home, Selina tried to deal with what she’d learned. Could she trust Lord Pemberton? He seemed genuine, but she wasn’t convinced of his true intentions.

  As the carriage returned her to Park Lane, Amelia and Rafe both made sly attempts to prod Selina about her conversation with the politician. Their interest seemed a little too intense for her liking, and she fobbed them off saying she had an excruciating headache. It was the truth, and she would need to take a tincture of willow bark before she could think clearly. She caught the glance that passed between them before the pair retreated into a sullen silence. Pemberton had clearly used them to bring her to him. Whether Amelia and Rafe were on his side or not, they would never be true friends of hers.

  “Thank you for a most enjoyable evening. I especially enjoyed the ballet,” Selina said when the carriage drew to a stop in Park Lane.
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br />   Amelia enveloped her in a perfumed hug. “Did Pem say something to upset you? It would be most unlike him.”

  Still prodding. Selina extricated herself from Amelia’s embrace. “Heavens no. I have a headache as I’ve said, and I’m a little tired.” She withdrew her hand from Rafe’s before he could raise it to his lips.

  “Shall we take tea on Friday?” Amelia asked as a footman put down the step.

  “Thank you, but I don’t know if I’ll be in London. It depends on what my husband wishes. I’ll send a note.”

  Selina escaped inside and wearily climbed the stairs. She dabbed away tears with a handkerchief. When she entered her chamber where Sarah waited yawning, Selina could hardly speak for the lump in her throat. “Undo my gown and corset then go to bed, Sarah.”

  Alone in the room, Selina slowly undressed and brushed her hair. In the mirror, her pale, confused face stared back at her. Was a happy life conceivable for her and Devereux? The possibility seemed to have moved further away than ever.

  Despite sleeping poorly, Selina was up early the next morning. After breakfast, she took a hackney to Army Headquarters and asked the guard to inform Mr. Scovell she wished to see him.

  Relieved that he consented to see her, Selina took the proffered seat in his office. She relayed everything that had transpired the previous evening. She had deliberated about this course of action for most of the night. If Devereux was working for the French, she might make things worse for him, and although she didn’t believe that for a moment, she deliberately withheld Lord Pemberton’s name.

  “Miles Pemberton, eh?” Scovell leaned back in his chair.