An Unlikely Alliance

by Patricia Bray

  Lady Stanthorpe was the perfect ally. She could introduce a camel to the ton and they would give her the benefit of the doubt, solemnly hailing it as the next Prince of Persia. For her to turn Magda respectable would be a small deed. It would not last forever, but hopefully the affair would be over before anyone saw through the deception.

  “I make you no promises, but I will do the best I can,” she said. Her face brightened as a thought struck her. “I suppose this will be rather like an adventure. I have always wanted to take part in an intrigue.”

  It was clear that Lady Stanthorpe had no conception of the gravity of the situation. Alexander grimaced as he realized that it would fall to his part to ensure that he made sure she did not get carried away in her schemes. But he could not pull this off without her help. “I will be forever in your debt,” he said.

  “Madame is all kindness,” Magda agreed.

  They decided that Magda would remove to the Stanthorpes’ residence later that afternoon. It was the one part of the plan he did not like. He understood why it was necessary, but he was not happy at having Magda out from under his eye. It simply did not feel right, and he could not shake the feeling that something dreadful would happen to her without him there.

  Not that his own efforts had succeeded in keeping her safe, but at least here he was in control. He resolved to check the security of the Stanthorpes’ house personally, and to augment their staff with some of his own men who could be relied upon to keep Magda out of harm’s way.

  Magda drew aside the silken drapes from the window of her sitting room and looked anxiously down at the street below. There was no sign of Alexander. What could be keeping him? True, he was not expected for some time yet, but was he not anxious to see her? She longed to see him. He had not seen her for a week, not since he had convinced her to accept Lady Stanthorpe’s hospitality, despite her own misgivings.

  He had promised that she would be safe here, but the promise of safety was no consolation for the loss of his companionship. Letting the drapes fall back, she wandered over to the looking glass. She surveyed her appearance critically, but could find no fault. It had cost a fortune to persuade the dressmaker to have this ready in time, but she had to admit that the dark green silk gown had been worth the cost. Wisely not trying to pass Magda off as a typical young lady, they had eschewed the pale muslins that characterized a young miss in her first season. Instead they had chosen a costume which would play up her role as an exotic newcomer. Made in the latest fashion with a low, square neck and short Spanish shoulder sleeves, the dress gave her an appearance of elegant refinement.

  The dress was but one of the changes that had occurred this week. Lady Stanthorpe was a ruthless taskmaster, taking charge of Magda from the moment she arrived. Every waking moment was occupied. First there was the selection of her new wardrobe, and the endless fittings required. In between fittings, Magda was required to practice her manners. She learned how to curtsey and the other niceties of social address. Even mealtimes were a lesson, with Lady Stanthorpe watching every bite she ate, constantly correcting her table manners and choice of utensils.

  It was not that Lady Stanthorpe was unkind. On the contrary, it was clear that she was trying as hard as she could to be helpful, and to turn Magda into a proper lady. And so Magda gritted her teeth and did her best to absorb the endless lessons.

  It made her long for the time she had spent with Alexander. She missed him and the free and easy ways of his household. He was never far from her thoughts. Constantly during this past week she’d found herself thinking of him, wondering where he was and why he had not come to see her.

  She missed his smile and the way his eyes had lit up when he saw her. She missed the way he had listened to her as if her opinions really mattered to him, and how he had never condescended to her simply because she was a woman and a commoner. Most of all she missed the way he had made her feel. When she was with him she had felt alive.

  She knew her feelings for him went beyond mere friendship. She was perilously close to falling in love with him. And this was a dangerous emotion indeed, for there was no honorable way that she could be with him. Even if he returned her feelings, their love could only lead to heartbreak.

  Perhaps Alexander had already seen the danger, and that was the reason why he had not come to see her.

  There was a soft rap at her door. “Enter,” she called.

  “Mademoiselle, Lady Stanthorpe asks if you are ready to depart. She and her guest are waiting in the parlor.” It was Luke, dressed in the livery of a footman, delivering his message in all-seeming humility.

  “Yes, Lu—” Magda began, then remembered that she wasn’t supposed to know the newest member of the staff. “Please tell Lady Stanthorpe that I will join her in a moment.”

  Luke bowed, his face solemn but his eyes twinkling as he replied, “At once, Mademoiselle.”

  At least there was one familiar face in this household. Luke was just the most visible of the protections that Alexander had arranged for her. Magda shivered as she realized that they still had no clue to her enemy, and that the enemy could strike again at any time.

  The past week had tried her patience sorely. How could she concentrate on dresses and etiquette, when she knew that someone out there wanted to kill her? All her instincts screamed at her to take action, yet Alexander had decreed otherwise. And so, reluctantly, she had gone along with his plan.

  Finally he had decided that it was time to take the first step toward flushing the villain out. Tonight she would make her first appearance in society, under Alexander’s watchful eye.

  Magda squared her shoulders and surveyed her appearance in the mirror for a final time. Then she made her way down the stairs to the ground floor and entered the parlor, where she discovered Alexander deep in conversation with Lady Stanthorpe.

  He looked up when she entered the room, but his face gave no sign that he was pleased to see her. Nor did he offer her any compliments on her newfound elegance. Instead he merely asked, “Are you ready for this evening?”

  “Yes,” Magda said. She was nervous, but it was a relief to finally be taking action rather than waiting passively.

  “Remember, stick to the story we went over. Don’t try to elaborate or get clever,” he added, with a warning glance at Lady Stanthorpe. “All we want to do is make Magda’s presence known.”

  “I know what to do,” Lady Stanthorpe replied. “But if you insist on calling her Magda then it will be over before it’s begun. Try to keep in mind that she’s Mademoiselle Beaumont, and you have only just been properly introduced.”

  “Of course,” Alexander said. “Now we had best depart. We want to arrive just late enough to make a grand entrance.”

  The drive to the opera house was a quiet affair. With Lady Stanthorpe as a witness, it was impossible for her to speak freely with Alexander. There were a thousand questions that she wanted to ask him, but there was no opportunity for private conversation. And she found it hard to speak of nothings when there was so much at stake.

  Their entrance at the opera was everything that they had hoped for. Heads turned as Lady Stanthorpe entered her box, followed by Magda and Alexander. Magda stared straight at the stage, but from the corner of her eye she could see finely dressed ladies and gentlemen raising their quizzing glasses to get a better look at the newcomer in their midst.

  She knew the attention wasn’t for her. It was for Alexander, previously a very reluctant participant in the social round. The curtain had barely rung down for the first interval when members of society began to call at their box. Lady Stanthorpe introduced her as Mademoiselle Beaumont, her protégé. The gentlemen seemed to take this at face value, but the ladies spent as much time looking at Alexander as they did Magda, clearly trying to figure out his role in all this. Was he merely escorting his longtime acquaintance, Lady Stanthorpe? Or had he taken an interest in this Mademoiselle?

  Magda did her best to appear as if she had a right to be there, acknowledging each
introduction with a reserved smile and professing herself charmed to meet each new acquaintance. Lady Stanthorpe’s acquaintances pronounced themselves equally charmed to meet her, although Magda knew such sentiments were false. She had met more than one of these ladies previously, when she was a mere seamstress attending to their fittings. And never once during her employment had any lady ever regarded her as more than an object which was capable of taking orders.

  But while the ladies she met seemed insincere and the gentlemen either stared at her impertinently or ignored her entirely, she did not feel that any of them could be the person they were seeking. It was unlikely that he was here tonight anyway. Alexander had come along to supervise the outing, not because he really expected the villain to make an appearance. No, tonight was simply an opportunity for her to be seen, and to make sure her presence was reported as widely as possible.

  It was hard not to let the strain she was feeling show, but she knew the role she played was just as important as the drama that was unfolding on the stage below. She tried to lose herself in the enjoyment of seeing her first opera as a patron. But her heart was not in it, and she was only too ready to agree when Alexander suggested departing before the final act.

  It was raining outside. Alexander left her and Lady Stanthorpe in the lobby while he went to summon the carriage. The lobby was mostly empty, with a few opera house employees loitering and what appeared to be a family party standing near the doorway. The group was quarreling, although over what she could not hear. In a few moments a hack appeared, evidently summoned by another member of their party. The group dashed into the rain toward the waiting carriage.

  The sound of footsteps clicking on marble broke the silence, and Magda turned to see who had appeared.

  “I see I am not the only one who has found this performance wretched,” Le Duc d’Aiguillon said. He was easy to recognize, still affecting the powdered wig, silk knee breeches, and elaborately embroidered coat of the last century.

  It was a shock to see him. In the excitement of the last weeks she had forgotten meeting this forbidding aristocrat, with his unnerving claim of having befriended her mother.

  “Mademoiselle Beaumont,” he said, making it clear that he indeed recognized her. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  His manners were faultless, yet for some reason Magda felt repulsed by his presence. “Monsieur Le Duc,” Magda said, pasting on a false smile to hide her inexplicable dislike.

  Lady Stanthorpe turned the survey the newcomer, and Magda had no choice but to brazen it out. “Lady Stanthorpe, may I present Le Duc d’Aiguillon.”

  “I believe we have met before,” Lady Stanthorpe said coldly. “But I was not aware that you knew Mademoiselle Beaumont, my guest for the season.” Her voice held a frosty edge as she looked first at Magda and then at Le Duc, as if wondering what possible connection they could have.

  “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Any friend of Mademoiselle Beaumont’s must also be counted a friend of mine.”

  Magda held her breath, wondering what he would say next. Here was one person who could ruin their plans. If he had indeed known her mother, then surely he also knew that she had no English relations. A few words from Le Duc and her masquerade as a genteel lady would be over.

  But Le Duc d’Aiguillon said nothing. Perhaps he had indeed been fond of her mother, unlikely as that seemed. In any event he did not comment on Magda’s sudden change in status from fortune teller to respectable young woman.

  “I am pleased to see that you have such a patroness,” he said, addressing Magda. “But please remember that it is not only the English who have a care for you. As a longtime friend of your chère maman’s, I would be honored if you would come to me should you ever require assistance.”

  Magda nodded, repressing the shiver that ran through her. She would sooner rot in the streets than trust herself to Le Duc’s care. There was something about him that she just did not trust, for all his seeming generosity and claims of past friendship. She wondered if her dislike sprang from the growing suspicion that his relationship with her mother had gone beyond simple acquaintance. A mere child in those years, Magda knew she had not been privy to all her mother’s secrets. It was an unsettling realization.

  She longed to share her feelings with Alexander, but there was no opportunity during the carriage ride. And rather than coming in, he merely escorted them to the door, in the manner of a perfect gentleman.

  Readying herself for bed, Magda confessed herself heartily sick of this plan. Here she had done everything that Alexander instructed, allowing Lady Stanthorpe to lecture her on manners and deportment, standing patiently for endless fittings while seamstresses fashioned a wardrobe to fit her new persona. She’d performed brilliantly tonight, yet Alexander had said not a single word of praise. Instead he’d seemed abstracted and distant, as if they were strangers.

  It was a crushing reminder that she was only playing the role of a gentlewoman. She did not belong in his world, and even if he had regarded her as a friend, such friendship was unlikely to stand the pressures of society.

  Magda finished brushing her hair. Was it her imagination or had it actually gotten longer? Peering into the glass, she was pleased to see that her hair had grown into a fashionable crop that was surprisingly becoming. At least she no longer looked like a fever victim.

  She heard a faint click and saw the doorknob slowly begin to turn. Glancing frantically around, she could see no weapon except the silver-backed brush. Grabbing it in one hand, she stood up quietly, all her senses focused on the door, which began to swing open. She opened her mouth to scream.

  A familiar face appeared around the frame of the door. “Shh,” Alexander said, entering the room and closing the door softly behind him.

  Her knees felt weak with relief. “How did you get in? And what are you doing here?” she demanded, replacing the brush on the nightstand.

  “Luke let me in,” Alexander said in low tones. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to know I am here.”

  It was ridiculous how glad she was to see him. He still wore the dark pantaloons he had earlier in the evening, but had taken off his fashionable coat and starched cravat, leaving his shirt open at the neck.

  He gazed at her with an intensity that had been missing earlier in the evening, and Magda was suddenly aware of her own state of undress. Climbing back into bed and hiding under the coverlet seemed somehow too intimate, yet the wardrobe was on the other side of the room, and to get a shawl she would have to pass right by him.

  Alexander smiled, a devilish look that made it clear he knew which direction her thoughts had taken. In two quick steps he crossed over to the wardrobe. He pulled out a robe and tossed it in her direction. “We need to talk,” he said.

  She wrapped the robe around herself, tying the belt swiftly. “Yes,” she said. “I think I made a mistake in coming here.”

  Alexander raised one eyebrow. “Indeed?” he said, brushing aside the pale green bed hangings and seating himself at the foot of the bed.

  It was a big bed, and she had no wish to shout across the room. Magda perched gingerly at the top of the bed, aware that such intimacy was both improper and dangerous. It would take very little for Alexander to reach out and embrace her. She could not help wondering how it would feel if he did so, and whether she would have the strength of will to deny him.

  “You said it was a mistake?” he prompted her.

  “Er, yes,” Magda said, hoping the shadows hid her guilty blush. She firmly pushed her wayward thoughts aside and focused on the matter at hand. “What if the person we are looking for is not a member of society? None of the people I met tonight seems the criminal type.”

  “You’d be surprised what some of those fine gentry have done or would do if the mood struck them. But I agree, the person we are seeking was in all likelihood too canny to make an appearance tonight.”

  She hadn’t expected him to agree with her. “Then why are we doing this? Isn’
t there an easier way? Something that doesn’t involve Lady Stanthorpe, or your spending a fortune on new clothing for me?” She had known her role would require a new wardrobe, but had assumed she would make the clothes herself.

  “We’ve been over this. Your appearance tonight will be in all the society columns tomorrow, not to mention a topic of gossip among the ton. Our man is bound to hear of it. And there was no time to wait for you to make your own wardrobe. Madame Cecile is discreet, and she has enough workers to have everything ready quickly.”

  “I do not like being so much in your debt,” Magda said. What was a trifle to him was a fortune to her that she could never repay. It was another layer of complication in a relationship that was already too complex.

  “The clothes are of small matter,” Alexander said. “Besides, when all is said and done we may still be looking for someone who was involved in fixing the race. In which case I will be in your debt, for having helped me find the villain.”

  He might have been trying to save her pride, but it felt like he was simply patronizing her. “You don’t really believe that,” she said, giving vent to her frustration. “You simply feel responsible for me. But there’s no need for you to take on my problems. I can take care of myself.”

  Alexander sent her an exasperated glare. “Stop thinking of yourself for a moment. How do you think I would feel if I washed my hands of you, only to hear later that you had been killed? How do you think Luke, or Bob Parker, would feel, for that matter?”

  “Would you be so concerned if I was just a poor girl, someone you hadn’t met?”

  He looked away for a moment. “Probably not,” he said, his gaze returning to her face. “But it makes no difference. I do know you, and count you as a friend. Like it or not, you are stuck with me until this affair is over.”

  He thought of her as a friend. Or worse yet, as someone who was incapable of taking care of herself. Her feelings toward him may have changed, but it seemed that Alexander still regarded her as a burden.