With conviction in her choice, Alixe tossed back the covers and rang for Meg. It was time to embrace the day. Nothing would stand in her way now.
Nothing would stand in his way now, Archibald Redfield thought smugly, his booted toe tapping impatiently on the tiled reception-hall floor of Lambeth Palace. In a few minutes, he’d have the special licence in hand and the road to claiming his heiress would be clear of its last hurdle.
The traditional Folkestone talked of calling the banns, but Redfield wanted a surety should anything go awry. Banns meant three weeks of waiting. A special licence meant instant permission to marry should he need it and he just might. Nothing had gone according to plan where Alixe Burke was concerned and he would not take any chances here at the end with his goal nearly attained, especially not with St Magnus in town.
It had been galling to hear St Magnus had been in town while he himself had been detained with the earl, drawing up a marital contract. But it had been important that he be there. He couldn’t be in two places at once and he couldn’t risk the earl uncovering anything questionable about his past that might skew the acceptance of his proposal. If he was present, he could explain away any unpleasant discoveries. There were benefits to drawing the papers up in Folkestone, too. The country solicitor was competent, but less likely to have access to the information networks of London. The last thing Redfield wanted to do was draw up papers in London where the risk was larger that someone would know something unsavoury about him. So he had stayed with Folkestone to secure his match. Meanwhile, Merrick St Magnus hadn’t given up. Which only meant one thing: the man must feel there was still some hope.
That fear was confirmed last evening when he’d driven home with the earl’s family from an early night out at Lady Rothersmith’s musicale, a venue he’d not been disappointed to depart. Folkestone had let it drop over brandy after the ladies had retired that the disreputable St Magnus had had the audacity to make an appointment. Of course, the earl had assured him, St Magnus had been refused out of hand. To which Redfield had politely reminded Folkestone with a smile that they had an agreement complete with legal papers. But just in case, perhaps with circumstances being what they were, a special licence would be a useful precaution.
He needed Folkestone’s approval on this. An ordinary fellow like himself couldn’t simply walk into Lambeth Palace. He’d need a letter of introduction from Folkestone to expedite his case. He had elegantly pleaded a gentleman’s prerogative: a poor man might have to wait three weeks while banns are being called, but a man of funds could forgo that necessity. It was an especial honour for the bride to be married by special licence and while money was exceedingly in short supply for Redfield these days, he considered the twenty-eight guineas well spent if it meant procuring Alixe Burke’s dowry. Folkestone had seen reason and acquiesced.
At last the heavy doors opened and the clerk reappeared, bearing papers in his hand. ‘Do be careful, sir, the ink is barely dry,’ he warned, handing over the papers. ‘There must be something in the air. This is the second one that’s been requested in as many days,’ the clerk said congenially.
Redfield didn’t care if it was the fifth. He only cared he had what he wanted. But he could afford to be generous in his success so he made polite conversation anyway. ‘Who might the lucky fellow be?’
The clerk chuckled at that. ‘Someone we’d never thought to see enter these hallowed halls.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I suppose it’s not discreet to tell you, but we all had a good laugh after he left. Lord St Magnus.’
The elation of victory faded. Redfield kept a smile pasted on his face. ‘St Magnus, that old dog? What does he want with a special licence?’ he said with a congeniality he no longer felt.
The clerk shrugged. ‘No idea, but he’s got one now. Came in yesterday, late afternoon, and caught the archbishop at tea.’
Right after the visit to Folkestone, Redfield thought. He made a hasty exit. His instincts had been right. St Magnus hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer. A new game was afoot. He could guess what it was. St Magnus meant to take the decision away from Folkestone. A frisson of anger shook him almost visibly as he strode down the pavement. All this trouble for snobbish Alixe Burke, who thought she was too good for the likes of him. She hadn’t even dressed well until St Magnus had forced her to it. He did have to admit, she looked lovely these days. Bedding the shrew would be less of a hardship than he’d originally thought. St Magnus might have taught her some interesting tricks there, too.
Archibald Redfield was a practical man. Love couldn’t buy you a thing, but money could. He wasn’t so much troubled by the thought that St Magnus had been tupping Alixe Burke behind the scenes as he was about the prospect that Alixe Burke had permitted it. Therein lay the danger. Such permission implied she preferred St Magnus over him. If so, St Magnus wouldn’t have to steal her away, she’d go willingly unless he could stop it.
Archibald Redfield would not go away, Alixe thought with no small amount of irritation that afternoon. He’d taken her out for a drive in Hyde Park, which she’d hadn’t been able to refuse, and now they sat in the shade of the garden with her mother, sipping lemonade and talking about the various improvements he wanted to make at Tailsby. The list was long, which no doubt accounted for the lengthy conversation.
‘A gentleman’s home must mirror his values,’ he told her mother. ‘I want a place of light and beauty, a place that will be a perfect setting for my family.’ He looked her way with a warm smile that she was sure was affected. ‘A prospective bridegroom must be indulged in his own fancies.’ He laughed. ‘While the ladies talk of gowns and flowers, gentlemen plan their home.’
Gentleman, my foot, Alixe thought. If he used the word ‘gentleman’ one more time, she was going to throw her lemonade glass at him. Then they could see what a ‘gentleman’ did with lemonade all over him. He might aspire to be a gentleman, but he had not attained such status yet.
‘A gentleman?’ Alixe queried perversely. ‘I was unaware there was a title in your family.’
Her mother shot her a tiny frown of disapproval and quickly moved to restore tranquillity. ‘Didn’t you once say, Redfield, there was a baronetcy among one of your greatgrandfathers?’
Redfield gave a casual lift of his shoulders. ‘The family tree is so very tangled I can scarce keep it all straight for three generations, let alone four. I leave that sort of work for nimbler minds such as yours, Lady Folkestone.’
The compliment worked well in placating her mother. Her mother gave her a smile as if to say ‘what a nice fellow, he wasn’t even put off by your snide and inappropriate remark’.
‘Lord St Magnus has a title,’ Alixe continued her needling. ‘That definitely makes him a gentleman.’ She watched Redfield’s smile tighten infinitesimally.
‘I should like to think it takes more than putting “lord” in front of a name to make a gentleman,’ Redfield responded. ‘It takes knowledge of certain nuances, demonstration of certain behaviours, a certain restraint. Gentlemen are the bedrock of good society. I do not consider St Magnus to be a model citizen.’
‘My brother cares for him a great deal,’ Alixe shot back, letting Redfield know he was in grave danger of offending Jamie.
‘Your brother is kindness itself.’
Alixe knew what that comment really meant and she neatly turned the tables. ‘As you have been. Surely you have other obligations than dancing attendance on the two of us.’
‘We are to be married. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than spending time with my fiancée. The only greater joy would be allowing me to announce that happiness tonight.’ He was asking her mother for permission, but he was looking at her, his eyes hard and assessing as if he was searching for something, as if he knew something.
Alixe tensed, panic taking her as her mother glanced between them and said, ‘Yes, I think tonight at the ball would be perfect. If we wait too much longer, the Season will be finished and there won’t be a chance to celebrate.’
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nbsp; He did leave after that. But the damage was done. Alixe’s first reaction was to run straight to Merrick. But if Redfield suspected anything, he would also suspect that. He meant to flush her out. She must do nothing to give away her anxiety. That meant she could only wait until evening and hope nothing else went awry.
Even if she’d thought it safe to send for Merrick, there was no chance for it. Her room was the scene of chaos. She was not alone for a moment. Meg was there with her mother and her mother’s maid. ‘It’s not every night my daughter gets engaged!’ her mother all but crowed as she bustled about Alixe’s room, giving instructions for her hair, her gown, her slippers. Three gowns already lay discarded on Alixe’s bed, none of them deemed right for the occasion.
‘Meg, bring out the deep-cream gown with the forest-green sash.’ It had been one of Alixe’s favourites when it had arrived and she hadn’t worn it yet. ‘I think that one will do nicely, Mother,’ Alixe put in, trying not to swivel around while her mother’s maid put up her hair. How would Merrick get word to her when she couldn’t contrive to be alone? She had thought word would have arrived earlier. It was after seven and no word had come.
A thousand thoughts rioted through her head, adding to the chaos. Had Merrick changed his mind? Had he been delayed? At last she was proclaimed ‘ready’. The woman in the mirror looked dazzling, if not a trifle pale.
‘I’ll just help her with some powder and rouge,’ Meg said, shooing the others out. ‘She’ll be downstairs in just a moment.’
Alixe was grateful for the quiet that followed. She let Meg touch up her face with a light application of cosmetics. ‘I don’t know what’s been going on, miss,’ Meg began as she worked. ‘But Lord St Magnus sent a boy to the back door asking for me today. Asked me where you’d be tonight and I told him. He said a carriage would be waiting at ten o’clock outside the back-garden gate.’
Relief washed over her. Merrick hadn’t forgotten, hadn’t changed his mind. Now it was up to her. All she had to do was elude Redfield. She didn’t fool herself into believing it would be an easy task. Redfield suspected something was up. How he could have guessed, she didn’t know. It was immaterial. The only thing that mattered now was getting to Merrick.
‘Is everything all right, miss?’ Meg eyed her carefully in the mirror.
‘Everything will be all right, Meg. You didn’t tell anyone, did you?’
Meg gave her a solemn look. ‘No. Are you sure this is what you want? Lord St Magnus is a handsome fellow, but …’
‘It’s what I want, Meg.’ Alixe smiled and rose, giving the maid a quick hug. ‘Everything will be fine, you’ll see. But if anything goes wrong, tell my brother what you know. You can trust Jamie.’ She hoped she was right on that account.
Alixe swept up a matching green wrap and gave her room a final survey. It would be a long time before she was back here and by then everything would be different.
She was late. Merrick checked his pocket watch a fourth time. The minute hand had slipped past the three, edging towards half past the hour. He didn’t want to ponder what could be keeping her. There were plenty of doubts that were taking up residence in his thoughts. Had she changed her mind? Had she started her courses and decided against marriage now that the danger had passed? Had the clear light of morning altered her passion-influenced decision the night before? Or was she in need? Had something occurred to prevent her making their appointment?
He hadn’t been able to get close to the house today. Redfield had been there nearly the entire afternoon. He’d opted for sending a message through Meg. Had she been able to deliver it? Originally, he’d planned to slip a note into a bouquet and leave it for Alixe, but that seemed too risky with Redfield’s presence. Redfield’s presence had concerned him greatly, especially with what Merrick had learned that morning. His enquiries had turned up unsavoury information at last. Redfield made a habit of preying on middle-class women of comfortable means. He’d not aimed so high before and Merrick would see to it he wouldn’t again by whatever means necessary. The proof was in his pocket.
But that didn’t allay his present worries. Had the messenger boy got the time right? The sooner he had her out of Redfield’s clutches, the better he’d feel.
There was no way to know short of going inside. That was one thing he couldn’t do. He wasn’t dressed for it. He was dressed for travelling. For another, he hadn’t been invited. Besides, making a scene would hardly assist a discreet getaway.
That line of logic held until ten-thirty. To hell with discretion. He was going in there. Whatever happened inside would be far better than the not knowing going on outside. Merrick climbed out of the coach and called up to the driver, both of which were borrowed from Ashe, who’d called him a fool but loaned them anyway, saying, ‘My driver’s a good shot if it comes to that.’
‘Bring the carriage around to the entrance. I’ll be leaving by the front door. And, John, be ready to drive.’ He tossed up a bag of coins. ‘Bribe ‘em for a good spot at the kerb if you have to and have the lanterns lit.’
‘Will do.’ The coachman nodded, having been fully briefed on their purpose. ‘But pardon me saying so, how are you going to get in? You’re not invited.’
Merrick winked, the prospect of action raising his spirits. ‘You don’t need an invitation when there’s a perfectly good fence to climb.’ With that, he leapt up on a pile of discarded crates, scaled the railings with an agile ease born of too much practise escaping forbidden boudoirs and disappeared.
Merrick jumped down on the other side, thinking how odd it was to climb railings to get in. Usually he climbed them to get out. The garden was nearly deserted and he kept to the shadows to avoid drawing attention to himself. The verandah was another matter. Footmen abounded with trays of champagne and lobster patties. It wasn’t long until the butler, accompanied by two tall footmen, cornered him at the back of the ballroom and demanded to know his business.
‘I have a message for Viscount Knole,’ Merrick replied, using Jamie’s title. If Alixe was here, there was a good chance Jamie was, too.
The butler’s narrowed gaze suggested doubt, but he sent someone in search of Jamie and Jamie turned up quickly, looking less than pleased. ‘It’s all right,’ Jamie dismissed the butler, but the stare he fixed on Merrick told a different story. ‘You’re not wanted here, Merrick.’
‘Where’s Alixe?’
‘She’s up front.’
Merrick stepped forwards, determined to cut a swathe through the ballroom to reach her, but Jamie put a restraining hand on his chest. ‘I don’t pretend to know what happened between you and Alixe. Whatever it was, it’s over now. You need to accept that. She’s chosen Redfield. They’re going to announce the engagement momentarily. You have to let her go.’
All Merrick said was, ‘No.’ The woman who’d writhed in his arms the night before would not be swayed from her promise so easily. He plunged into the crowd, making his way to the dais. Folkestone was ringing his champagne flute for attention and Alixe stood pale and desperate beside a beaming Archibald Redfield, her eyes darting through the crowd, searching for something, for someone. That someone was him. Hold on, Alixe, I am coming—although he had no idea what he’d do when he got there.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alixe searched the crowd for a last-minute miracle. Fate had conspired against her in the most agonising of ways. Redfield had not left her side all evening. He’d even escorted her to the ladies’ retiring room and waited for her. She’d watched the hours slip away. Ten o’clock came and passed and she remained tied to Redfield. She wanted to kick him, wanted to rail at him for ruining her plans, but that would admit there’d been plans at all. Now it was too late. Unless Merrick guessed at her distress and came for her. Even then, there’d be a scandal to pay. There would be no quiet getaway that her family could choose to unobtrusively hush up. Instead, there would be public drama. She would have succeeded in giving her family fits again after she’d tried so hard to avoid it.
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bsp; Her father was tapping his goblet for attention. Redfield had her arm in the discreet vise of his grip, firmly holding her rooted to him on the dais. Her mother was smiling and, somewhere in the back of the ballroom, there was a surge of movement swirling through the press of people, the crescendo of murmurs rising as the motion moved forwards. She caught a glimpse of pale-gold hair and broad shoulders pushing forwards.
Merrick.
He had come.
Her father cleared his throat. ‘My dear friends, I want to thank you all for joining us this evening and allowing us the opportunity to make a most heartfelt announcement. At long last, I am pleased to share with you the engagement of my daughter to Mr Archibald Redfield, lately of Tailsby Manse. I have been proud to call him neighbour and now I will be able to call him my son-in-law as well.’
Polite applause broke out. Redfield preened. Alixe shot a desperate look at Merrick. He neared the dais, but looking at him was a mistake. Redfield followed her gaze, his grip tightening on her arm. ‘My dear, he is too late if he means to claim you. Whatever plans you might have had, they’ve been successfully rerouted,’ he whispered at her ear.
Alixe wrenched her arm to no avail. His grip held. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself. You’d look ridiculous up here struggling,’ Redfield said in low tones.
‘You’re late, St Magnus,’ Redfield called out. ‘Too late, some would say.’
There was some nervous laughter at the base of the dais, but Alixe noted wiser souls stepped back, clearing the space between Redfield and Merrick.
Her father’s gaze flicked to Merrick. ‘How dare you come to disrupt good society.’
‘I come to oppose this announcement.’ Merrick’s voice rang out, silencing the murmurs that seethed behind him. ‘If you ask the lady in question, I think you will discover she prefers another.’ Merrick held out his arm, his hand so near she could almost touch it. His eyes turned to her, blue and blazing. ‘Come with me now, Alixe.’
How to Disgrace a Lady Page 20
