Lady Unveiled - The Cuckold's Conspiracy (Daughters of Sin Book 5)

by Beverley Oakley

  “It’s in need of a launder, and it’s an old one. I’m sorry; I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Miss Bijou.”

  “And I’m Miss— Oh!” Her cry of dismay was occasioned by the fact that the wriggling bundle had slipped out of her hands and was now completely immersed in the water. “What am I going to do?” she wailed. “Aunt Bertha will never forgive me!”

  Kitty wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t too enamored of the idea of picking up a sopping wet puppy and taking it anywhere, so she was relieved when the young lady scooped up her beloved with no similar qualms. Kitty turned and beckoned over her shoulder. “There’s nothing for it. We’ll see the publican who’s en route to Mrs. Lynn’s Tea Rooms. That’s where I can get the tarts I promised your aunt.”

  Of course, Mrs. Lynn’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she recognized Kitty. “Lordy, yer’ve come back ‘ome!” she cried. “Run away ter London, I ‘eard, ‘n makin’ yer ma cry like that. ‘Ow could yer, Kitty love?”

  The young lady whose name Kitty still hadn’t ascertained, looked at her wide-eyed when they came out into the sunshine on their next mission, which was to rub the dog dry.

  Kitty shrugged, feeling embarrassed for the first time. “I suppose I should explain. I’ve shamed my family. Actually, you probably should not be seen with me for I’m not respectable at all anymore. Well, that’s if I ever was.”

  “Not respectable?” If possible, even more color leached from the young lady’s pale face, and she looked for a moment as if she might faint clean away from shock. So Kitty added hastily, in case she might think Kitty worse than she was, “I’ve become an actress, you see.”

  “An actress!”

  “And I’ve never been happier.” Kitty squared her shoulders. “I was a prisoner here in this town where I grew up, but now I can do what I want to. I love what I do, and no one can tell me I ought to do this, and I can’t do that. I’m just back for a short visit, though.” As her companion continued to stare, goggle-eyed at her, Kitty quickly changed the subject. “And what brings you to these parts?”

  “I’m coming to stay with some people my aunt knows. And…and to meet the man I’m to marry.”

  “Goodness! How exciting!”

  Kitty was determined that this is how she would feel—glad for anyone venturing upon the path she’d have loved more than any other. Though not if that meant she couldn’t be with Lord Silverton. No, having love was definitely more important than having a ring on her finger and the respectability she craved.

  “Yes.”

  She was surprised by the young lady’s lackluster response and determined to bolster her, though perhaps her real motive was curiosity. “Is your young man dashing and handsome and worthy of you?” Kitty loved that having declared herself an actress, and therefore on a far inferior social footing, she could ask the kind of questions no proper young lady would dream of asking.

  They were in possession of some linen now for which Kitty had offered the innkeeper’s daughter some coins and were drying the puppy on the back step in the gentle midday sun.

  “He’s very handsome and dashing, and we’ve been friends forever. He’s the most noble gentleman I’ve ever known. He’s kind and ever thoughtful of me, which of course makes me the luckiest young lady in the world. We’re getting married in a few weeks.”

  “Goodness! And do you have all your wedding things…your dress? Or is that the reason you’re traveling with your aunt? To make arrangements?” Kitty could have kept asking wedding-related questions forever. She remembered the excitement of finding just the right ensemble for her intended nuptials to Lord Nash. Her failure to believe he hadn’t tricked her was a lucky accident which had saved her from a life of being with the wrong man.

  “I’m on my way to London, but I’ll be meeting my intended tonight. I haven’t seen him for a few months.”

  “How exciting! I’m sure he can’t wait to see you again.”

  The young lady nodded, again without a great deal of enthusiasm. The sun on her sandy eyelashes emphasized the pink rims of her eyes. She seemed suddenly close to tears, perhaps overwhelmingly affected by emotion. She certainly wasn’t a pretty girl, but there was a softness and sincerity about her that appealed to Kitty’s protective instincts. The girl bit her lip. “I don’t know where I’d be if he hadn’t offered for me like he did.”

  “Really?” This sounded intriguing. Kitty put her head closer, inviting greater disclosure which the young lady seemed ready to give, perhaps as much for the reason that Kitty was a complete stranger as much as anything else.

  “When my father died last year he left the family in a rather…difficult situation with creditors who—” She broke off, coloring as if she realized she might be divulging too much. “Fortunately, my Aunt Bertha agreed to provide me with a dowry if I made a good marriage.” She shrugged, “Though that really meant provided she was satisfied with the match.”

  “I’d have thought it would be as important that you were satisfied,” Kitty clarified.

  At this, the young lady brightened. “Oh yes! He is the most wonderful of men. I’ve grown up in the village near his family home and known him my whole life. His mother has taken me under her wing and is delighted. Indeed, no bride-to-be could be more fortunate than I.”

  Yet, to Kitty’s concern, she still looked as if she were trying to convince herself of the fact, and as Kitty could hear her Aunt Bertha’s shouts for her niece from where they were, she decided it would be best if she shepherded her rather indecisive companion back toward where she must continue her journey.

  Though if Aunt Bertha were her aunt, and Kitty was utterly dependent on doing what she wanted, she supposed she’d not want to hurry back to be cocooned for another eternity.

  Which only went to show what a good decision Kitty had made to be mistress of her own destiny.

  And mistress to the most wonderfully noble and dashing man on the planet, she decided with a surge of love.

  Chapter 6

  Lucinda was pale at the best of times but, now, traveling through a small beech wood she looked like a ghost as she clutched her stomach and wailed, “I’m going to be ill!”

  Lissa eyed her young charge warily from the farthest corner of the carriage. Was it just a ruse? Lucinda had not been easy company during this tedious journey through Hertfordshire after Lady Julia had persuaded Lord Beecham to accompany them to a weekend house party. Now they were returning to London in the same carriage, and the last three hours of traveling had never been so taxing.

  “Stop!” It was Lady Julia, rapping on the ceiling; her nose curled up in disgust as she cast a baleful look at the gray-faced Lucinda.

  Lissa was, in fact, glad of the reprieve. It would be nice to step out and stretch her legs. The long confinement had done her mood no favors. Lady Julia and Lord Beecham had both seemed a little out of sorts while Lucinda had sulked the entire way.

  With clear relief, Lucinda clambered out of the carriage and collapsed against a tree, her hands at her forehead. Lissa supposed she should feel sorry for her. At the very least, she should go to her charge and offer her services, but her inclination was to walk a little, breathe in the mild country air, and mentally prepare herself for another two to three hours of further torture. For her own part, she couldn’t wait to reach London again. She knew this wood. She’d gathered berries here every summer until she’d taken up her position as a governess in London, first to the Lamonts and now to Lord Beecham’s ward. She really did not wish to be recognized by any of the local villagers who might pass this way.

  Conscience, of course, prevailed and she was about to go to Lucinda when Lady Julia’s thin voice carried over the short distance that separated them, though a large rock physically cut them off from each other.

  “The Grange is just over the rise. Lord Partington’s country seat. I believe a cozy little gathering is taking place as we speak.” Her tone was conversational, but the words had a chilling effect on Lissa.

  “I
ndeed, my love?” Lissa knew by Lord Beecham’s tone he was humoring her.

  “Lady Debenham has chosen to celebrate her birthday with a large gathering. Silverton is on the guest list, I’m told.”

  “Indeed, my love?”

  Lissa tensed. Was that particular interest she noted in his tone? To date, she’d found none of the evidence Sir Edward had hoped she’d dig up to suggest a collusion between Lord Beecham and Debenham. And this house party Lady Julia spoke of? Lissa knew she should move closer but her entire being screamed silently in horror at listening to something regarding her own family.

  Lady Julia, she knew, must harbor unpleasant associations with The Grange. Under its roof, she’d cuckolded her husband with her father’s bacon-brained nephew Edgar before the young heir had drowned. Well, perhaps not cuckolded but they’d certainly been indiscreet. Lissa had heard of the unedifying spectacle of Lady Julia’s dawn departure at the side of her silent and shocked husband, Sir Archie, while poor Edgar’s waterlogged body had been laid out on a door. The gossip afterward had been lurid.

  Lissa wondered what Lady Julia would think if she knew how informed Lissa was on these sordid events. Surely Lady Julia would want to give The Grange a wide berth. She was certainly surprised when Lady Julia now said in a cajoling tone, “Beechy darling, I think it would be perfectly lovely to surprise Lady Debenham with a visit to celebrate her birthday. Why, I have such fond memories of making her acquaintance during her first London debut.” After a short pause, she amended this more spitefully to, “Or was it her second. Her first ended somewhat under a cloud after that poor young man blew his brains out when she reneged on his marriage offer.”

  “My dear Julia…” clearly, Lord Beacham had no idea Lissa was in earshot else he’d not have addressed her with such familiarity, “…we haven’t received an invitation.”

  Her tinkling laugh greeted this, followed up with, “My dear Beechy, you are somewhat lacking in imagination at times. Why, we’ll invent a reason for being invited. A broken carriage axle just outside their entrance should do nicely.”

  Kitty took a deep breath and kept her head down as she and the rest of the theater troupe were shown the stables after Mr. Lazarus had asked where they should leave their props and costumes. Puddles, The Grange butler, had looked down his nose at the gathering as if he thought himself superior to the lot of them, which riled Kitty no end. She remembered the pompous and overbearing Mr. Puddles from her childhood growing up in the village.

  Although she’d been determined since her London success never to feel shame again, the truth was that it was potentially too dangerous to be recognized—certainly at this stage—so she’d kept her face averted each time she passed any of the staff.

  The truth was that these last twenty-four hours the theater troupe had been staying in the village had been the most terrifying of her entire life. Fortunately, neither the tavern keeper, the draper nor the blacksmith had drawn the correlation between the drably-garbed village lass they remembered with Kitty La Bijou, celebrated London actress.

  Well, it was one thing to avoid detection by the servants but what about tonight? Her father, for one, would die of apoplexy when he saw her on stage, and she doubted Araminta would be impressed, though it was fortunate Araminta remained in ignorance of her true identity and the fact they shared a father.

  That’s when she simply pushed her shoulders back and once again reminded herself that she wasn’t the one who ought to feel shame. Nor fear of exposure. It was hardly as if her father would acknowledge her—the man who’d put her in this position. He’d be only too horrified at the sight of his illegitimate daughter on stage in his drawing room, contaminating the rest of his precious family.

  Araminta would not acknowledge her either. She’d not want it known that she’d been aided by Kitty La Bijou the night she nearly lost her babe, when clearly she should not have been gallivanting alone in such an advanced state of pregnancy.

  So that meant Kitty might well simply go through the motions of performing her role before she returned to London with the rest of the actors and actresses the following day, after which she hoped Silverton wouldn’t be too long in getting back from his estates.

  She couldn’t wait to see the gorgeous man. He’d written to her every day, and somehow all his letters had reached her. Every time she recalled his words she felt warmed right through, and it was quite hard to concentrate; such as now when Jennie obviously felt aggrieved at having to utter something a second time since she felt it incumbent to jab Kitty in the ribs.

  “I said, ain’t this the grandest ‘ouse yer ever saw, though yer’d reckon we’d a bin ‘oused inside instead o’ the stables.”

  Kitty agreed, removing her mantle and untying her bonnet as she gazed at the piles of hay stacked about the walls. “The butler doesn’t know what to do with us. Did you see his face when Lydia smiled at him?”

  “You mean pouted at him, all sultry-like?” Jennie giggled. “Yes, he went crimson to the tips of his ears.”

  The ten members of the troupe had certainly attracted considerable interest from the staff at The Grange. Jennie had no compunction in revealing more than a respectable quantity of creamy-white shoulder and thigh to the goggle-eyed stable boys, as she immodestly slipped off her tawdry crimson and green silk day dress before wriggling into the scanty attire required for her role as a storm-tossed village maiden. Kitty, however, had no intention of being so immodest. She was always careful to ensure no male members of the company glimpsed her in any state of undress. No, Kitty reserved the seductive revealing of her body for Silverton. Other than Silverton—and Lord Nash, of course—no male could ever say they had seen Kitty La Bijou in any state other than decorous.

  Mr. Lazarus seemed awed by his surroundings, as he strutted about with his thumbs stuck in the waistband of his trousers, the feather in his green felt hat making him look like a cockerel. Kitty didn’t miss the awe in his wide-eyed gaze as took in the handsome stables, the sweeping lawns, and the fine old Queen Anne manor house.

  The fine old Queen Anne manor house that would have been Kitty’s home had her father not reneged on his promise to marry Kitty’s mother.

  So now she was here, on the inside for the very first time once they were led from the tradesmen’s entrance through a catacomb of corridors to a series of anterooms near the ballroom.

  Her eyes felt like they were on stalks. Of course, the back stairs and corridors were dull and utilitarian, but once they were within range of the ballroom, soft carpet covered the floors, rich draperies swathed the windows, paintings and elegant silver candle sconces adorned the walls.

  And then here was the ballroom itself, richly decorated with enormous epergnes of flowers and foliage in preparation of tonight’s grand ball which the play would precede.

  A makeshift stage had been erected at the end of a large antechamber which directly adjoined the ballroom. Rows of chairs had been set out in front of the dais where the play was to be performed, while a long refectory table, presumably to hold the evening’s supper, lined one wall.

  “Lawks,” Jennie whispered under her breath as she ran her hand over the fresh upholstery of one of the seats, “it’s real velvet.”

  Kitty knew this, of course, just as she knew the layout of the reception rooms. On several occasions, she’d watched from the branches of a beech tree the arrival of the guests who’d spilled out of carriages in front of the portico before they’d been ushered into the house. Whenever she got the opportunity, she’d trespassed onto the grounds taking a detour back from one of her errands, and while she knew she’d have been horsewhipped if she’d been discovered, not all the ghosts of Hades could have frightened her away from such sights. There were ladies wearing their finest attire: opera capes over gossamer gowns, feather-bedecked headwear, and the men handsomely garbed in the finest fitting evening wear.

  These sights had stayed with her, and tonight the same would happen. She was determined to get a bird’s-eye view of gue
sts arriving for this evening’s entertainment from within the precincts of The Grange. Guests arriving to see her—Kitty La Bijou, London’s most celebrated actress—as much as to pay tribute to the evening’s guest of honor, Lady Debenham. Her half-sister.

  Not that anyone would know this.

  The actors had been strictly instructed to keep a low profile and not to venture away from the small withdrawing room which now served as their costume and prop room just off the stage.

  Most were obediently rehearsing their lines or reapplying their makeup in the designated confined space. They were too overawed by their surroundings and the officious butler to do anything but obey. But Kitty was confident she knew her way around this house. She intended to slip away and hide herself just so she could catch a glimpse of the grandeur and pomp that accompanied new arrivals.

  So, as she left Mr. Lazarus intoning a monologue and Jennie practising a flirtatious exchange with one of the peasants in scene two, Kitty withdrew into the darkened corridor. No one observed her go, and as she hurried down several twisting passages, her heart pounded with the thrill of her wicked truancy. Not that it should have been truancy. If her father had been a noble and honorable man who’d kept his promise to his first true love and fiancée, then Kitty would have known these corridors like the back of her hand, as the young lady of the house.

  To her delight, she now found herself at the foot of a narrow, steep flight of stairs that led, she was sure, to the observatory tower. What a thrill it would be to see the sun dipping over the horizon from her secret vantage point as she watched the first guests arrive. She only wanted to see one carriage stop and disgorge its beautifully dressed occupants, and then she’d return to Mr. Lazarus.

  Sure enough, it was only a minute before she saw in the far distance a small plume of dust that heralded the arrival of a carriage coming from the north. Kitty peered through the dense ivy to see the butler arrange himself in a properly respectful manner to greet the new arrivals. And then she heard the familiar tones of her half-sister, Lady Debenham, as she remarked to her companion who’d followed her out—handsome Lord Ludbridge—“Goodness, this is one little reunion I’m very desirous to witness. My lord, we must fetch Silverton.” Her voice was swallowed up as she hurried inside and Kitty, who’d been on the verge of turning back to return to her fellow artistes for fear of discovery, stood rooted to the spot, clutching the railing in churning excitement, horror and fear.