by Jane Feather
He came over to her, taking her hands in his. “Surely you can see my point.”
“Yes, I can see it,” she said, leaving her hands in his. “But it’s still insulting to accuse me of overconfidence. Maybe for you these straightforward tasks that I’m so pleased at performing successfully are insignificant trivia, but they’re not insignificant to me.”
“Oh, dear,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize how offensive that must have sounded. I didn’t mean to demean your contributions. I was just trying to make a point as forcefully as I could.”
“Well, you certainly did that,” she said, not willing to kiss and make up just yet. “Tell me, if it was Frederick engaged in this mission with you, would you have forbidden him to go on an excursion to Richmond with our quarry?”
He looked at her with a half smile of reproof. “No. Of course not. And you know why.”
“But you still called the tune with Frederick?”
“Yes.”
“And he never questioned your decisions?”
“Of course he did sometimes. And you’re free to question them, too. But you have to accept that the final decision will be mine.” He drew her against him, releasing one hand to push up her chin, his thumb stroking over her mouth, his eyes grave as he regarded her. “Your safety is my first concern, Aurelia…always.”
It would be churlish to hold that against him, she thought, as his lips followed the path of his thumb over her mouth. She allowed herself to relax, her taut body softening into his embrace, wondering why she had so perversely objected to a decision that came only as a relief. She had absolutely no desire to be alone with Don Antonio under the trees of Richmond.
Chapter Twenty-two
LADY FALCONER RECEIVED Don Antonio in the salon the next morning. He came into the room, dressed as was his habit, in a black coat, lightened on this occasion with a gray-and-black-striped waistcoat, and gray pantaloons. The white folds of his starched neckcloth rose high beneath his chin, his tasseled Hessians gleamed mirror-bright, and he carried his hat and a slender cane.
He was without doubt an elegant and arresting figure, she thought, setting aside her tambour frame and rising from her chair to greet him. But all the elegance of costume in the world couldn’t disguise the cruel line of his mouth, or the flatness of his black eyes.
“My lady.” He swept a flourishing bow. “May I say how charmingly you look this morning?”
“You may, Don Antonio.” She smiled as she extended her hand. “And I shall accuse you of shameless flattery, but be complimented nevertheless.”
He kissed her hand, holding on to to it for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before releasing it. “It would be impossible to flatter you, Lady Falconer.”
She merely smiled at that and gestured to a chair. “May I offer you refreshment? Coffee, perhaps, or would you prefer sherry?”
“I would be delighted to join you in whatever pleases you, my dear ma’am.” He set his hat and cane down on a console table against the wall and sat down as gracefully as a cat, crossing his booted ankles.
Aurelia inclined her head in acknowledgment and rang the bell. Jemmy answered it instantly. “Coffee, Jemmy, please.”
“Yes, mum.” He bobbed his head and backed out.
“So, ma’am, have you given any more thought to our ride in Richmond Park?” Don Antonio inquired, flicking an imaginary speck of fluff from his immaculate sleeve.
Aurelia managed to produce a rather sorrowful air. “Unfortunately, Don Antonio, there is a difficulty. You see—” Jemmy arrived with the coffee and she waited until he had set it on the low table in front of her. “Thank you, Jemmy, that will be all.”
“Right y’are, mum,” Jemmy responded cheerfully, and scurried away.
Aurelia poured coffee into the shallow Sevres cups. “My husband has forbidden such an excursion.”
A strange look crossed her companion’s harsh countenance, then it was gone so quickly she could almost have imagined she’d seen it. “What a shame,” he said, his tone without expression, his eyes black stones.
Aurelia looked rueful. “He is somewhat old-fashioned, I’m afraid, and, as I explained yesterday, rather overprotective. He does not consider me to be a sufficiently accomplished horsewoman to ride in Richmond without him beside me.” Her smile was self-deprecating. “The rides in Richmond are rather wilder than the tan in Hyde Park, I understand.”
“So I believe,” he responded, then sipped his coffee. “I own I am disappointed, ma’am, but I respect your husband’s position. He doesn’t know me well enough to be certain I can protect his wife from hazards.”
There was the menace again, a quick slide of a knife edge. It chilled her anew. She reached for the coffeepot again, hoping her hands wouldn’t shake as she refilled her cup. The action provided momentary respite, enough for her to regain her composure.
“We may not have Richmond, sir, but my husband has no objections to excursions closer to home.” She gave him a smile as she offered to refill his cup. “I promised to show you some of London’s famous sights. We could take a carriage ride to see the lions at the Exchange, if you wish. Or stroll in Green Park.”
“Is it true they graze a herd of cows in Green Park?” he inquired, watching her carefully. “It seems most eccentric in a city park.”
“English law has its eccentricities, sir,” she responded with a light laugh. “Public grazing rights are jealously guarded. For centuries Londoners have had the right to graze their cattle in Green Park. And if you wish, the milkmaids will sell you a cup of new-drawn milk.”
“A pleasure I fear I must decline,” he said, placing his coffee cup on the table. “But the pleasure of your company, ma’am, is another matter altogether.” The vigorous banging of the doorknocker resounded from the hall, and for a second a look of annoyance crossed his face.
Aurelia jumped to her feet as she heard the voices in the hall. “Oh, pray excuse me, Don Antonio.” She flew to the drawing room door. “Liv…Liv, oh, how wonderful to see you. When did you get to London? And you’ve brought the baby.” She embraced her friend before turning to the nursemaid holding a wrapped bundle. “Oh, do give him to me.” She took the blanketed bundle and peered into the tiny, wrinkled face.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Livia asked, beaming with maternal pride. She moved aside a fold of blanket so that Aurelia could see him properly. “Prince Alexander, meet your godmama,” she instructed.
Aurelia suddenly remembered Don Antonio, abandoned in the salon, and said, “I have a visitor, Liv. Come into the drawing room.” Still carrying the babe, Aurelia led the way into the salon. “Forgive me, Don Antonio, for running out like that. One of my oldest friends has just returned to London with her new son. Livia, may I introduce Don Antonio Vasquez. Don Antonio, Princess Prokov.”
Don Antonio bowed over the princess’s hand. He was about to take his leave when Cornelia burst into the salon. “Here you are, Liv. I thought this was where I’d find you. Oh, do let me see him.” She took the baby from Aurelia. “Isn’t he adorable…but he’s not in the least like your miniature, I have to tell you, Liv.”
“No,” Livia agreed, laughing. “I’m not much of an artist, I’m afraid.”
Don Antonio coughed. “I must take my leave, Lady Falconer. I am de trop, I fear.”
“Oh, forgive me, I was forgetting my manners in all this excitement,” Aurelia apologized. “Nell, I don’t believe you’re acquainted with Don Antonio Vasquez. Don Antonio, Lady Bonham.”
Cornelia regarded the Spaniard with frank curiosity. “Are you new to town, sir?”
“I’ve been here just a few weeks, ma’am.”
“How strange that we haven’t met before. In general, when one of my friends makes a new acquaintance, I usually make them, too.” Cornelia cast a quick glance at Aurelia, who said nothing.
“I met Lady Falconer at Lady Lessingham’s soiree,” Don Antonio explained smoothly. “The countess provides Spanish émigrés with a place to gather
and discuss our country’s affairs.”
“I see.” Cornelia glanced again at Aurelia. “I didn’t realize you were on such terms with Lady Lessingham, Ellie.”
“I partnered her at cards at Lady Buxton’s afternoon party some weeks ago,” Aurelia said casually. “And you know how interested I am in Spanish culture.”
Cornelia most certainly did not know this, but she merely inclined her head in acknowledgment and said to Don Antonio, “I must send you an invitation to my ball, Don Antonio. It’s to be next Saturday…rather short notice, I fear, but I do so hope you’ll do me the honor of accepting.”
“The honor will be mine, Lady Bonham.” He bowed with a click of his heels and took a visiting card from his pocket, handing it to Cornelia, before turning back to Aurelia. “And now, Lady Falconer, I really must leave you with your friends. We shall talk about our little excursion another time.” With another bow that encompassed all three ladies, he left.
“A suave gentleman,” Cornelia observed, sitting down, cradling the baby in the crook of her arm. “I wonder how I’ve missed him on the social circuit.”
She glanced quickly at Aurelia, who shrugged easily and said with perfect truth, “Greville knows him from somewhere.”
“Oh, I see,” Cornelia said, shooting a significant look in Livia’s direction. “You seem to be on very comfortable terms with him.”
Aurelia didn’t miss the look but let that and Cornelia’s statement pass. It was easier than attempting to untangle the situation for her friends. They both knew that Greville, like their own husbands, was involved in the underworld. Aurelia couldn’t explain her own part in that world without getting dangerously close to secrets that were not hers to share.
“I’ll ring for some more coffee,” she said, reaching for the bell.
“Not for me,” Cornelia said carelessly. “I don’t seem to care for it…or it doesn’t seem to care for me at the moment.”
After an instant’s silence, Aurelia said almost as carelessly, “I find it’s tea I can’t stomach.”
Livia burst out laughing. “Oh, how perfect. Both of you.”
Cornelia looked at Aurelia. “Really?”
“Mm…hmm.” Aurelia nodded. “You, too?”
“I’m fairly certain. But it’s early days.”
“Me, too. Very early. In fact…” Aurelia laughed a little self-consciously. “It was only this morning that I properly realized it.” She’d had so much on her mind she hadn’t noticed the passing of the weeks, and the fatigue and the faint queasiness she’d put down to her anxiety over her meetings with Don Antonio.
“Have you told Greville?”
Aurelia shook her head. “Not yet.” In fact she didn’t know when or even whether to tell him. Their partnership would come to an end soon, once this business with Don Antonio reached a conclusion that satisfied Greville. How would he react to leaving a child of his own behind, to grow up without a father? Probably, she thought bleakly, he wouldn’t consider it particularly important. He would make provision for the child, of that she was certain, but he had grown up without a father, to all intents and purposes without a mother either. So he probably wouldn’t consider the parenting an issue. Perhaps she would just keep it from him. It would make his life easier. And she could manage alone. She’d done so once, after all. And she had her friends and would have a stable income once this was over. But she knew that this time around it would be so much harder than the first.
“Does Harry know?” Livia asked Cornelia.
“Not yet. I’ll tell him in a couple of weeks. It’s taken awhile, and he’s never said anything, although I know he’s wanted it so much. I have to be absolutely certain before I get him excited.”
“I think it’s perfect,” Livia repeated, taking her son from Cornelia, gazing with adoration into his sleeping countenance. “They’ll all be so close in age, like members of the same family, just like Stevie, Susannah, and Franny.”
Cornelia was watching Aurelia’s face, a slightly troubled look in her eyes. “When will you tell Greville, Ellie?”
“In a week or two.”
Aurelia still couldn’t understand how it had happened and was certain Greville wouldn’t. There had been only one occasion when he had failed to take his customary precaution against conception, but that had only been a few days ago, far too soon to result in her present pregnancy. But such things happened, she knew, even in the best-regulated relationships.
“Then for now it’s our secret,” Livia stated. “My lips are sealed.” Intuitively she changed the subject. “So, Nell, I have a most dramatic gown for the ball. Alex chose it. It’s silver gauze over a black silk undergown, with a train edged in scarlet braid. And I have a scarlet ostrich plume for my coiffure.”
Aurelia chuckled. “We’ll complement each other beautifully, love. Mine is black spider gauze over white silk, and Nell is all in scarlet edged with black and silver lace.”
“What a dramatic trio,” Livia said.
“When have we ever been anything else?” Cornelia asked, shooting Aurelia another of her searching glances. “No one could say that the ladies of Cavendish Square, starting with Sophia Lacey, have followed convention. Don’t you agree, Ellie?”
Aurelia smiled. “Oh, yes, Nell. Most definitely.”
• • •
Don Antonio left South Audley Street and walked back to his lodgings. His initial anger at the frustration of his perfect plan was well under control, and his mind worked swiftly now to come up with an alternative. For a moment he had thought he would complete this job within the week. He was known for his meticulous work, but also for the speed with which he accomplished his missions. This time he had hoped to exceed anyone’s expectations. But personal vanity had now to be put aside. He couldn’t rush this job. But unless he was much mistaken, an alternative had been handed to him on the proverbial silver platter. The lady wouldn’t ride with him in Richmond Park, but she would dance with him.
His invitation to Lord and Lady Bonham’s ball was delivered to his door that evening, and he penned an instant reply. The following morning, he called upon Lady Falconer to request her hand for the quadrille.
Aurelia was somewhat distracted when her visitor was announced. Franny had a cold and was lying wanly on the sofa in her mother’s sitting room, snuffling and complaining that she was bored and wanted to go to the schoolroom in Mount Street.
“That foreign gentleman is ’ere, m’lady. I showed him into the drawin’ room,” Jemmy said.
Aurelia bit back a denial. She had guaranteed to Greville that she would not allow maternal concerns to interfere with her other task. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute, Jemmy. Take the sherry decanter in,” she said, reaching over to lay a hand on her daughter’s forehead.
To her relief, Franny felt quite cool. “I’ll be back in a short while, sweetie. Lie quietly and Daisy will bring you a cup of Miss Ada’s chicken broth.”
“I don’t like broth.” Franny sniffed vigorously. “I want gingerbread and honey milk.”
Ordinarily Aurelia would have denied the treat outright, knowing well that the child was making the most of an ailment that would not be cured by sugar. But Aurelia was fatigued and queasy, and the thought of Don Antonio awaiting her in his black elegance downstairs did nothing for her state of mind.
“I’ll ask Daisy to bring you some.” She kissed the child’s forehead. “But this is the last time, Franny. When I come back, you must have some broth and go back to bed for a nap.”
Franny wisely decided to defer that battle and concentrate on her victory. “All right,” she said, and coughed vigorously.
Aurelia couldn’t help smiling as she left the room. The child was so transparent, and yet she had a certain skill when it came to arranging matters to her satisfaction. Rather like her father, Aurelia thought. Frederick had certainly arranged his life. Her hand brushed lightly over her flat belly. What of this one? The child of a man even more capable of manipulating the world to suit his
own needs.
Oh, it was all too vexing and complex to think about. For the moment, she had to concentrate on Don Antonio Vasquez.
She walked into the salon, all smiles, hand outstretched. “I’m so sorry our time together was curtailed yesterday, Don Antonio, but Princess Prokov’s visit was a surprise, and she is a particular friend of mine.”
“Oh, I quite understand, ma’am.” He kissed her hand. “And I find myself the beneficiary. I have received an invitation to Lady Bonham’s ball, and I’m here in the hopes that I may claim your hand for the quadrille.”
Nick Petersham had already claimed that dance. But he would accept an alternative with his usual easy grace. “I should be delighted, Don Antonio. It’s one of my favorite dances.”
“One of mine also.” His black eyes met her brown ones, but, as always, there was nothing behind the gaze. It was as blank as Franny’s virgin schoolroom slate. “I was also hoping to persuade you to accompany me on a drive to the Botanical Gardens at Kew. They are quite lovely at this time of year, I’m told.”
“I’m afraid I cannot this morning, Don Antonio. My daughter is unwell and she frets herself into a fever if I leave the house. But as soon as she’s better, I should look forward to such an excursion.”
If he was put out by her refusal, he gave no sign of it. He bowed and said with a flickering smile, “Of course, your daughter’s well-being must take precedence over my selfish desires. I do trust it’s nothing serious. Have you summoned the physician?”
He managed to make his concern sound almost sincere, Aurelia thought, as she responded lightly, “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s no more than a slight head cold. But thank you for your concern, sir.”
“One cannot be too careful with children.” That slide of the knife’s edge was there again.
