A Husband's Wicked Ways

by Jane Feather

  “Certainly,” her husband said, standing to one side so that Aurelia could precede him into the house. “I’ll ask Lester to arrange it.”

  “Come into the drawing room, Sir Greville.” Cornelia led the way. “Will you take tea, or would you prefer something from Harry’s cellars?”

  “The latter, I’m sure,” Harry declared. “Aurelia, a glass of Madeira?”

  “No, I’d love tea, thank you,” Aurelia said. “So, Colonel Falconer, what brings you to London? It must seem very tame after the rigors of the battlefield.”

  “Sometimes tame is welcome, Lady Farnham,” he replied, taking a seat beside her on a small sofa.

  His thigh seemed very close to hers, and Aurelia shifted slightly towards her arm of the sofa. She had the urge to discompose him, to play with fire a little. “I was rereading some of Frederick’s letters from Oxford this morning, Nell,” she said. “You know how he and Stephen used to write to us regularly during term. He was describing an evening when he and Stephen dodged the beadle and climbed in over the wall at dawn…do you remember?”

  Cornelia hid her surprise at this strange conversational turn. “They were a pair of rakehells, weren’t they? In their youth,” she added with a small smile, gesturing to the footman that he should put the tea tray on the table in front of her.

  Aurelia turned to the colonel. “Forgive the reminiscence, sir. My husband was Lady Bonham’s brother. He and her first husband were childhood friends. They did everything together. Harrow, Magdalen College, Oxford, and then the navy.” She met his eyes. “And they died together at Trafalgar.” She took the cup Cornelia handed her with a bland smile.

  Harry was looking at her strangely and Aurelia didn’t care. She was no marionette to be danced at the end of Greville Falconer’s strings. The colonel’s gaze sharpened with a glint of surprise, and she felt a surge of satisfaction. He inclined his head in an infinitesimal movement that only she, sitting so close to him, would notice. But it was an absolute acknowledgment of a hit. This round she had won.

  “It was a great naval victory,” he said gravely. “Despite the many lives that were lost.”

  The unspoken name of Admiral Nelson hung heavy for a moment, and Aurelia reflected that her moment of satisfaction hadn’t lasted very long. There was no countermove to the invocation of that particular hero’s death at Trafalgar. Harry and Nell bore the look of someone prepared to support an old friend but completely at sea as to why it had to be on this particular tack.

  “Where were you thinking of looking for lodgings, Falconer?” Harry asked, pouring Madeira in two glasses.

  “Wherever I can find them. Thank you.” Greville took the glass. “I’d like to be within comfortable walking distance of Piccadilly.”

  “You’ll set up your stable, of course?” Harry took a seat and gestured to Greville to do the same.

  “In a minor way. A decent riding horse…a good pair for a curricle. No more than that.” Greville sipped his Madeira. “Do you ride, Lady Farnham?”

  “I enjoy riding, Colonel.”

  “Then perhaps you would accept my escort one afternoon. I am so new to town, and if you would be willing to introduce a newcomer to the rituals of a Hyde Park trot along the tan, I would be eternally in your debt.” Greville smiled as he spoke, his eyes only on her countenance, giving the impression that she was the only person in the room.

  What game was he playing now? Aurelia had no idea, but she knew she needed to bring it to a close quickly. Cornelia and Harry were far too sharp-witted to watch this byplay without wondering what was going on. She said pleasantly, “That would be delightful, Colonel, but I find little enough time for such exercise these days. My daughter occupies so much of my day.”

  “You leave me desolate, ma’am,” Greville murmured. “But I understand that the needs of your child must be paramount.”

  She set down her cup and got abruptly to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go up to the schoolroom. I wanted to ask Miss Alison some things about Franny’s progress.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Cornelia said. “I’m sure you and the colonel can entertain yourselves for a few minutes, Harry.”

  “You’ll be missed, my dear,” Harry said with a quiet smile. The two men both rose to their feet and bowed as the ladies left the drawing room.

  “Have you met the colonel before, Ellie?” Cornelia asked as they ascended the stairs.

  “Of course not. What gave you that idea?” Aurelia tried for a light dismissive laugh, telling herself that it would get easier.

  “I don’t know exactly,” her friend said, shooting her a sideways glance. “Just something about the way he behaved with you. There was just something between you both that seemed to give that impression.”

  “Oh, perhaps it was just one of those instantaneous dislikes we all form occasionally,” Aurelia said carelessly. “I own there’s something about him that puts my back up…a certain presumption…arrogance, if you will.”

  Cornelia considered this as they climbed the nursery stairs to the children’s apartments. “I can’t say I noticed it,” she said finally. “But he’s a soldier, they all have something of the habit of command about them. I suppose after years in the service it’s hard to moderate it in civilian life.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Aurelia agreed, opening the door into the schoolroom. “And I’m sure I’m being unreasonable. He’ll improve on acquaintance, I expect.”

  Cornelia left it at that as they turned their attention to their children’s clamorous greeting.

  It was half an hour later when they returned downstairs with the children. Harry and the colonel came out of the drawing room as they reached the hall.

  “I thought I heard the children’s dulcet tones,” Harry observed, bending to scoop up Susannah, who had hurled herself at his knees. He kissed her, hitching her onto his hip, and ruffled Stevie’s hair. “Had a good day, then?”

  “We found the backbone of a snake,” Stevie began importantly. “And—”

  “When Stevie picked it up, it broke,” Franny interrupted. “But I fixed it all together an’ we carried it upstairs on a piece of paper, an’ then we drew around it.”

  “Franny did,” Stevie said with an almost adult sigh. He was a year older than Franny and had in the last year shot up two inches, a height advantage that gave him a much needed illusion of superiority in the company of his bossy and precocious cousin.

  “You inked it in,” Franny reminded him kindly. “You keep inside the lines better’n I do.”

  Stevie looked gratified by this testimonial, and before anything could be said to destroy the moment of harmony, Aurelia said, “Say good-bye, Franny darling, we must hurry home before it gets too chilly.” She kissed Cornelia and accepted Harry’s salute on her cheek.

  “You’ll take the barouche, Ellie,” Cornelia said. “It won’t take a moment to bring it around again.”

  “No…no, thank you. The walk will tire Franny,” Aurelia said hastily, raising a speaking eyebrow.

  “Of course,” Cornelia said, stifling a smile as she looked at the little girl, who was performing some elaborate dance of her own as she chattered to Stevie.

  “I trust you’ll permit me to escort you home, Lady Farnham.”

  Aurelia glanced briefly at the colonel and said with cool dismissal, “How kind, sir. But it will not be necessary, I assure you.”

  “I would consider it a great privilege,” he said, bowing over her hand.

  Aurelia was aware of Harry and Cornelia regarding her with a degree of interest. To refuse such a gentlemanly offer would be completely inexplicable to her friends. “I’m sure Cavendish Square is out of your way,” she demurred.

  “Not at all,” he denied. “It’s barely a step from Brook Street, and it will be my pleasure.” He turned to Harry. “My thanks for the hospitality, Bonham.”

  “I trust you’ll make one of my party at the Daffy Club on Thursday,” Harry said, shaking his hand.

 
; “I’d be honored,” Greville murmured, well aware that Harry had been asked to smooth the colonel’s return to society with the right introductions. The loosely formed aristocratic social and sports club that met at the Castle Tavern would not have been a personal choice, but then his sojourn in London was not for pleasure, and such a venue could well attract the kind of men who were his business.

  He turned back to Aurelia, who was adjusting her daughter’s bonnet. She was a very graceful woman, he noted, not for the first time, and there was something very appealing about her peaches-and-cream complexion framed in the corn-silk ringlets. As if aware of his gaze she looked up sharply, and he caught the flicker of uncertainty in the glowing brown eyes. She was off-balance and that would make his task easier.

  Perhaps this assignment might hold some unexpected pleasures, after all. Instantly he dismissed the unbidden thought. He lived by the rules of his trade, and the cardinal rule was that all personal relationships carried unacceptable dangers. True, he had considered Frederick Farnham a friend as well as a partner, but the friendship had not taken precedence over the partnership. Frederick had been his subordinate, and there had never been any confusion as to the moments when friendship could be allowed to dominate.

  “Lady Farnham.” Greville offered his arm as a footman opened the front door.

  Aurelia rested her hand lightly on his sleeve, holding Franny’s hand firmly in her own free one as they walked down to the street.

  “Who’s the man, Mama?” Franny’s piercing whisper brought a reluctant smile to her mother’s lips.

  Greville answered gravely before she could respond, “My name is Colonel Falconer, Franny.” He paused to speak directly to the child. “I’m a soldier in the army.”

  Franny frowned. “My papa was a sailor in the navy. But I don’t remember him. He died.”

  “Yes, so I understand,” Greville responded. “I am very sorry for it, Franny.”

  “It’s sad for Mama.” The child swooped sideways to pick up a pebble. “This is pretty…isn’t it pretty, Mama?”

  “Very,” Aurelia agreed. “Put it in your muff. We must hurry now. Miss Ada will have your tea ready.”

  “Boiled egg and soldiers…I asked her this morning specially,” Franny said, beginning her dancing step down the street.

  “Soldiers?” Greville inquired softly.

  “Bread-and-butter fingers…to dip in the egg yolk,” Aurelia informed him. “Not part of your childhood, I gather.” Her voice still held the residual anger at his earlier game.

  “No, I was clearly deprived.”

  She looked at him. “Somehow, Colonel, I doubt that. I find it very difficult to imagine anyone succeeding in depriving you of something you wanted.”

  He exhaled a little puff of air. “I have made a bad impression. Which is a shame, since it was the last thing I wished to do.”

  “You should try harder,” she said with acid-tipped sweetness. “There’s no need for you to accompany us any further. We shall be quite safe…as long as no one decides to play stalking games.”

  Greville bowed. It was time to take his leave. He knew well when discretion was the better part of valor, and the lady had clearly had enough of his company for one day. He would return to the front tomorrow. “If you’re sure?”

  “Certain.”

  “Then I will do as you wish.” He bowed again, taking her hand in a firm clasp, before solemnly bending to shake the child’s hand. Then he turned aside and strode off towards Brook Street.

  Aurelia resisted the urge to watch him go and instead walked quickly, swinging Franny’s hand, towards Cavendish Square.

  Chapter Five

  AURELIA WAS AT BREAKFAST the next morning when Morecombe appeared soundlessly in the doorway to the breakfast room.

  “Someone to see you,” he announced.

  “At this hour?” Aurelia glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was barely nine o’clock. “Who is it, Morecombe?”

  The elderly retainer shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. Didn’t give a name, but he’s been ’ere afore…yesterday, or thereabouts.”

  Aurelia frowned. Ordinarily a visitor this early in the day would betoken some kind of emergency, or at the very least an urgent errand. But in such a case the visitor would have declared his business. It could only be one man. And such an unorthodox arrival would not in the least be out of character for Colonel, Sir Greville Falconer.

  She could refuse to see him, of course. But that wouldn’t do much good. If he wanted to see her, he’d make sure he did, one way or another. And once again that strange frisson lifted the fine hairs on her skin, and her heartbeat accelerated.

  Aurelia debated keeping the colonel waiting while she changed her clothes. A faded morning gown that had seen many better days was perfectly suitable for a quiet, solitary breakfast but not really for receiving visitors. But then she decided a visitor who insisted on such uncivilized hours would have to take her as he found her.

  She took a sip of her coffee and returned the cup carefully to its saucer. “Show him in here, Morecombe.”

  Morecombe sniffed his disapproval but shuffled away, and within a minute Greville Falconer entered the breakfast parlor. He was dressed for riding and his tousled dark hair and wind-freshened complexion bore witness to the exercise. In the instant before he bowed, top hat in hand, Aurelia thought she caught a flash in his dark gray eyes, a glint of something that she couldn’t quite read. Amusement, or something else?

  “Ma’am, forgive the intrusion on your breakfast. It’s outrageously early for morning calls, but I hoped to catch you before you went out, or other morning callers started banging the doorknocker.”

  Amusement was definitely in his voice, and that glint was still in his eye, but Aurelia didn’t think that was pure amusement. It sent that strange and disconcerting prickle down her spine again. She wasn’t certain for a moment how to respond to his disarmingly frank acknowledgment of this inappropriate visit, but then opted for a cool, matter-of-fact tone.

  “Well, you certainly succeeded in that, Sir Greville. May I offer you coffee…or perhaps you’d care for breakfast. I could try to persuade the kitchen to rustle up something a little more substantial than toast. I’m afraid I have little appetite in the morning.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Lady Farnham. I own a kipper or a chop or a plate of bacon wouldn’t come amiss. I’ve been riding since six.” He pulled out a chair and sat down with a serene smile.

  Aurelia had hoped to discomfit him by an ironic invitation that was designed to emphasize the uncivilized nature of the visit. However, it seemed that discomfiting Greville Falconer was an art form she had not yet mastered.

  Saying nothing, she rang the little silver bell by her plate and waited, wondering how long it would take Morecombe to appear. It was Hester, however, who popped her head around the door. “What can I get you, mum?”

  “Sir Greville would like some breakfast, Hester. Could you ask Miss Ada or Miss Mavis if they could manage to find something suitable.”

  The girl stared at her mistress’s visitor. “I’ll ask, ma’am. But it’s bakin’ day an’ Miss Ada’s busy with the bread, an’ Miss Mavis is makin’ steak an’ kidney puddin’.”

  “See what they can manage, Hester.” Aurelia smiled her dismissal and the girl backed out of the room.

  “If I’d realized it would be such a trouble, I would never have accepted your invitation. I’m sure a piece of toast will suffice.” Greville reached for a piece of now cold and leathery toast in the rack.

  “Oh, believe me, sir, it will not suffice,” Aurelia declared. “Having disturbed the even tenor of my kitchen, you’ll eat what comes out of it and enjoy every mouthful.”

  He bowed his head with mock humility. “As you say, ma’am. I’m suitably grateful, and equally remorseful for having put you out.” His eyes sparked with laughter, and Aurelia couldn’t hide her own amusement at this ludicrous cat-and-mouse banter. Two little dimples danced in her cheeks and her
brown eyes were alight.

  Greville regarded her now with frank appreciation. Her hair hung loose and straight to her shoulders, enlivened with a few hardy ringlets that had survived the night. Her cheeks were becomingly flushed, and her casual dress gave her an air of delightful informality.

  “Where is the talkative Franny this morning?” he inquired with a smile.

  “On her way to the schoolroom. Do you care for coffee? Or would you prefer ale?”

  “I no longer have the temerity to express a preference, ma’am. Whatever will be the least trouble.”

  For answer, Aurelia got up from the table and went to the door. “Make yourself at home, Colonel. I won’t be long.”

  She returned in five minutes with a tankard of ale that she set down at his elbow. “Our Ada is prepared to offer you ham, eggs, and mushrooms.”

  Greville was powerfully aware of the curve of her breast brushing his shoulder as she set down the tankard, and even more powerfully aware of the scent of her skin and the loose ringlet curling over her ear. A hint of verbena and lemon. It had been many weeks since he’d been physically this close to a woman, and he would guess Aurelia Farnham had not breakfasted so informally with any man other than her husband. And yet she showed no sign of feeling at a disadvantage. Quite the opposite. She was playing the perfect hostess.

  Either she was a superb dissembler, or she genuinely had no difficulty adapting to circumstances that should disturb her. Either talent would suit his purposes most excellently.

  “Our Ada?” he queried.

  “Morecombe’s wife and his sister-in-law take care of the household in the absence of Prince and Princess Prokov and their own household,” she told him, returning to her own seat across the table. “They’re institutions here and have the right to remain either working or as pensioners for the rest of their lives. So far they prefer to work…according to their own lights,” she added with a half smile.

  “But the twins…Ada and Mavis…are superb cooks, and Morecombe…well, Morecombe is Morecombe,” she continued. “They have a mutual adoration compact with the children, Nell’s and mine, and…” She shrugged and reached for the coffeepot. “And with me, Lady Bonham, and Princess Prokov.”