“What nonsense! Just because I was a little indiscreet about dancing with him too often!”
“I am relieved to hear that,” Mrs. Apsley said. “I know you and your family don’t care much about gossip, being steeped in scandal already, but the Delphins never deviate from strict propriety. I can only conclude that my nephew has gone slightly mad with, er . . .” She paused, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Dear me, I am not myself just now, or I would not speak of such matters before an unmarried lady.”
“I’m not a child,” Gloriana said. “I understand the concept of unbridled lust, although the reality sounds quite dreadful. I must confess that I don’t understand why, when there are plenty of courtesans about who would welcome his custom, he must direct his base desires at me instead.” She could almost see the ears of the coachman and footman twitching at this conversation. She had to bite back a grin. They would enjoy recounting it in the servants’ quarters tonight.
All too soon they arrived at Hythwick House. Mrs. Apsley had calmed somewhat during the ride, but now her face crumpled, and she wailed, “What shall I do? He will be so angry with me!”
“Hush, ma’am. Surely he won’t blame it on you.” Yes, it would be just like Hythwick to take out his rage on a helpless old lady. Poor Mrs. Apsley was shaking all over and had to be lifted down by the footman. Philippe would be furious, but she couldn’t let her face that tyrant alone. She took Mrs. Apsley’s arm and helped her into the house.
“Is Lord Hythwick at home?” she demanded of the butler. “This is an emergency.”
“No, miss,” the butler said. “I believe he’s at his club.”
Gloriana let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized, until now, that she was rather afraid of Hythwick herself. “He must be sent for immediately. Please ring for Mrs. Apsley’s maid, and also get me pen, ink, and paper. I shall write a note to his lordship.”
“Very good, miss,” the butler said, while Gloriana helped the elderly lady to a chair in the vestibule.
In a few minutes her maid arrived, clucking and fussing, and with her Mr. Turner.
“Lady Marianne has eloped with Mr. Barnham, and Mrs. Apsley is greatly overset,” Gloriana said. “Put her to bed and give her a composer—perhaps even something to make her sleep—to keep his lordship from taking out his temper on her.”
“Aye, miss, I’ll do that,” the maid said grimly and helped her mistress up the stairs.
Mr. Turner motioned Gloriana into an anteroom. “I beg your pardon, Miss Warren, but you oughtn’t to have come into this house. What if the master had been here?”
“I know, I know, but I couldn’t abandon Mrs. Apsley. She is so afraid.” Gloriana made a mental note to carry her pistol in future.
“Your kind heart does you credit, miss,” the valet said, “but . . .” He lowered his voice. “My master sometimes speaks his thoughts in my presence.” He hesitated, clearly not wishing to clarify, and settled on, “His most vile and disgusting ones.”
She shuddered. “I’ll just write a short note and then leave.”
“Good, because I’d have to defend your honor, and I’d rather not hang for assaulting a peer.” Mr. Turner set out the writing materials. “What my Elspeth and your marquis will say about this, I dread to hear.”
“Then don’t tell them,” she said briskly, and sat at an occasional table to write the note.
Dear Lord Hythwick,
It is with regret that I convey to you the devastating news that your sister has eloped with Mr. Barnham. She was at the nursery on the Islington Road with Mrs. Apsley, when Mr. Barnham rode up in a chaise-and-four. Lady Marianne went willingly into the vehicle, and they drove away, headed for the Great North Road. Since I happened to be at the nursery at the time, choosing plants for the school, I accompanied Mrs. Apsley home. She is prostrate with anxiety and distress, and therefore charged me with writing this note. She begs that you will return with all haste. Perhaps there is yet time to catch the runaways and avoid a most dreadful scandal.
She signed her name, shook sand over the paper, and passed it to the valet, who glanced over it with a hint of a smile, then folded it and affixed a wafer. “I’ll take it to him myself.”
Her role in today’s charade was over, and as for the evening, Sophie and Mr. Alexander were to play bo-peep this time, while Gloriana was to attend Alice Stowe’s salon as if nothing were amiss. How tedious and nerve-wracking, for what if the burglary went awry?
At least she wouldn’t have to face Lord Hythwick again tonight.
Nevertheless, this reminded her that she should clean and load her pistol. She was in the breakfast room at the rear, performing this messy task, when Philippe walked into the room.
Flooded with joy, she sprang up. “I didn’t expect to see you today!”
He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and set it on the table. “Our special license.”
She flung herself into his arms, sure she appeared as foolishly besotted as Lady Marianne with her Freddy. “How did you manage that? I thought you were too busy planning for this evening.”
“I’m also too impatient to wait a moment longer than necessary to make you my wife.” He kissed her thoroughly. “Tomorrow at the church in Islington. Sophie and Mr. Alexander will be there, and I hope Elspeth will attend as well.”
He took a seat at the table and examined the pistol, admiring the silver chasing. “Quite a pretty weapon.”
“It is, isn’t it? All the Warren women are taught to shoot. My father gave me this one not long before he died, but Miles refused to teach me to use it until I was fifteen.”
“So you could have shot me that night at the summerhouse.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I could indeed, if I’d had a pocket to put it in. I was so angry with you—and yet so afraid that the gamekeeper had killed you. Oh, Philippe, I’m worried about tonight!”
“Do not be. As I hoped, Hythwick left in a rage—on horseback, without even a change of clothes. In case he catches up with the decoys quickly, we’ll go right after dark, well-armed, and be quick about it.”
“So early? Won’t you run a risk of being seen climbing up the drainpipe?”
He shook his head. “We’ll go in the front door like gentlemen.” He rolled his eyes at her gasp. “In disguise, chérie. We shall tie up whoever answers the door and leave a man on guard in case another servant appears—but most likely no one will. When the cat’s away the mice will play, so they’ll all be drinking and playing cards in the kitchen. Turner says the old lady has been dosed with laudanum and likely will sleep all night. We’ll fetch the book and be off.”
Meanwhile, Gloriana would sit home and fret . . . No, she wouldn’t.
“I know that stubborn expression. It is safer if you stay at home. Do not think to play bo-peep with that Bridge fellow.”
She raised her brows. “Surely you’re not jealous?”
“Of my only serious rival? Yes, of course I am.”
This was gratifying. “He is no longer a rival.” She wasn’t about to admit that he never really had been. “He is dining with the family of his betrothed tonight. She is the daughter of a wealthy merchant. I have promised to befriend her.”
“That is good news.”
“Yes, but since I cannot suborn him to play bo-peep, I’ll go to Alice Stowe’s salon instead and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary.”
Philippe looked as if he wanted to forbid her to go anywhere—but there was no good reason for that, with Hythwick galloping up the Great North Road. “D’accord, but bring this pistol with you.” His gaze assessed her, and he added, “For my peace of mind.”
“And what about my peace of mind tonight? Let’s forget the Book of Hours. Philippe, I would much, much rather do without it than lose you.”
“I am happy you have your priorities in the cor
rect order, ma belle, but if you wanted to preserve my safety, you should not have presented me with such a tempting project. En tout cas, it would never do to let Lord Hythwick win.”
She couldn’t disagree with that, but . . .
He smiled ruefully. “I have sworn off a life of crime, but I am not a safe sort of man. You may not get much peace of mind married to me.”
“And vice versa,” she retorted. “I am not a peaceful sort of person either.”
“No, you are delightfully quarrelsome,” he said, leaning in for another kiss. “But please oblige me in this.”
“Very well, I shall.” After he left, she wondered why she had given in so easily. Something about her had changed greatly since last night.
Her only reticule large enough to accommodate the pistol as well as pins, handkerchief, and sundry other items didn’t match any of her evening gowns, so she spent an hour covering it with blue beads and some scraps of Chantilly lace.
Elspeth came into the boudoir and eyed it dubiously.
“You needn’t sniff at it,” Gloriana said. “It’s the only one big enough to fit my pistol.”
“You ought to have asked me to sew it for you,” Elspeth said. “You don’t have the patience for stitchery.”
“I didn’t want to inconvenience you,” Gloriana said.
“That’s what I’m here for, miss.” The maid bustled about. “Whatever do you want with a nasty pistol, may I ask, when you’re going to an evening party?”
“Nothing,” Gloriana said. “Philippe asked—no, he more or less ordered me to take it with me.”
“Then you should obey him,” Elspeth said.
Again, Gloriana was tempted to leave it behind. “I don’t know why. Lord Hythwick is out of town, and I’ll be in my own carriage, so I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Because if you obey him in such small matters, it will make it much easier to disobey him when necessary.”
“As you will obey or disobey Mr. Turner, depending on the situation?”
“Yes, indeed, miss. I can assure you that when I vow to obey him, I shall add in my mind ‘unless he orders me to do something contrary to my conscience or commonsense’. I’m sure God will agree with that amendment, for men are not infallible, however much they might wish to be, nor can they be expected to understand a woman’s mind.” A trace of emotion crossed her face. She took a deep breath. “Miss Glow, my Mr. Turner would like to become your Philippe’s valet.”
“He would?”
The maid shook out a celestial blue evening gown. “Yes, miss. He doesn’t want to be an innkeeper or a tailor or anything else.”
“And what about you, Elspeth?”
“I don’t wish to be a milliner or a dressmaker, if that’s what you mean.”
Gloriana frowned, not quite understanding, and took the plunge anyway. “I don’t want to lose you, Elspeth, but if you’re tired of being a servant, I understand.” She took a breath. “Or if you’re just tired of working for me.”
“Tsk,” Elspeth said. “You’re the best mistress ever and a good friend as well. But what about when I have children?”
For a long moment, Gloriana couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Elspeth considered her a friend! She hastened into speech. “If you’re too busy, I’ll get another maid and find something else for you to do.”
“That you certainly will not, miss.” Elspeth laid the gown tenderly on the bed. “No one knows how to take care of you as I do.” She paused. “I might accept an assistant, perhaps, to do the less exacting chores.”
“Oh, thank God.” Gloriana closed her eyes with relief. Everything was working out fine.
Chapter 18
Sophie cuddled within the arms of her lover—but not, as always before, in bed. They sheltered from the night breeze between a wall and a tree, keeping watch on Hythwick House.
“Astonishing how he just walked in there, bold as brass,” Mr. Alexander said. “Any minute now, he’ll walk out again, book in hand.”
“That is nothing to what my brother did in France,” Sophie said. “He rescued many people from certain death.”
“An audacious man for certain. He’s a good match for Miss Glow.” He tightened his arms about her. “I like this—walking, talking, cuddling with you, but not in bed.”
Yes, so did she.
“Not that I’m complaining about being in bed with you. It’s the creeping about that I’m tired of.”
So was she.
“Seems unfair that they two will marry tomorrow, while we have to wait . . . forever?”
Surely not that long, but when would she know for sure about Jean-Esprit?
“He’s probably dead, love, and if he’s not, your brother and I between us will make sure he doesn’t harm you. Toss away those fears and take a chance.”
“I—I need more time to think about it,” she said.
Eric sighed.
~ ~ ~
Gossip spreads like wildfire, so take care not to provide the spark. This particular maxim of Gloriana’s mother was absolutely correct. Attending Alice’s salon had been a mistake—one that would last all evening, because a Warren couldn’t turn around and flee.
“There was a huge to-do at Lord Hythwick’s today,” Alice said, “and I know you had something to do with it, because you were seen.”
“I daresay I was, but all I did was accompany Mrs. Apsley home because she felt unwell. Poor lady, she could hardly walk.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure,” Alice said skeptically, “but the question is, where is Marianne?”
“Not here at your salon,” Gloriana said. “But then how could she be, if her aunt is ill? She can’t come on her own.”
“No, but there’s more to it. By what I’ve heard, Marianne went out with Mrs. Apsley today, but didn’t return with her.”
“Perhaps she’s with a friend?”
Alice narrowed her eyes. “Then, according to a most reliable source, Hythwick arrived home, all in a froth, and shouted so loud that he could be heard in the street! A half hour later, he galloped away—no mean feat on a crowded London street. Where do you suppose he was going?”
“I have no idea,” Gloriana lied. “But as long as it has nothing to do with me, I don’t care.”
“Oh, very well.” Alice pouted. “I see you’re not going to tell what you know.”
Gloriana rolled her eyes.
“Let us move to another topic, then. Have you by any chance noticed the curious looks directed at you tonight?”
She had—both sly glances and frank glowers, but she’d assumed they were about her supposed interest in the Earl of Hythwick. “That’s nothing new.”
“Oh, but it is, darling. No one who knows you seriously supposed you would hop into bed with Hythwick. But with a certain French nobleman, however . . .”
Gloriana wanted to roll her eyes, but she’d just done that. Besides, she could feel the flush of guilt making its inexorable way up her cheeks.
“Aha! I knew it!”
“Knew what?” demanded Gloriana.
Alice poked her in the chest and whispered, “Philippe de Bellechasse was seen going into your house this afternoon. Not only was he permitted to cross the threshold, but he stayed for almost an hour! And don’t try to deny it.”
Gloriana didn’t. This particular piece of gossip was hers to confirm, if she so chose—and why not? Tomorrow she and Philippe would wed.
“It seems a strange hour of the day for a seduction,” Alice mused, “but perhaps Philippe bribed your maid and caught you off guard. You’d gone to bed for a nap, and he found you all warm and rumpled and in dishabille, and—”
“Stop it, Alice. I wasn’t in bed, and he didn’t seduce me.”
“Come now, darling. No
one blames you for succumbing to the most desirable man in London. We shall have such fun teasing you. All the cats are ready to scratch your eyes out, but what a delicious conquest on your part! And on his too, for you don’t even like him.”
“Don’t be absurd. I like him very much.”
She cocked her head coyly. “Since this morning, perhaps. Tell me, is he as delightful in bed as one imagines?”
Inwardly, Gloriana gritted her teeth and snarled. Outwardly, she sighed and made a smug little moue. “If you must know, Alice, he came to my house to ask me to marry him.” She felt no need to specify precisely when the offer of marriage had taken place. “And I accepted.”
“You’re going to marry Philippe de Bellechasse?” Alice squealed. If the entire room hadn’t been eavesdropping before, they certainly were now.
~ ~ ~
Gloriana left the salon early. She’d had enough of being bombarded with everything from genuine felicitations to barely-veiled hostility. She had one of the footmen find her a hackney. Tomorrow she and Philippe would wed, but what about Elspeth’s plans? Mr. Turner might arouse suspicion if he jumped too soon from Lord Hythwick’s employ to Philippe’s . . .
The hackney pulled up in front of her house, and the jarvey jumped down to open the door and let down the steps. She descended, paid him, and had crossed the pavement to her doorstep when a female voice hailed her.
“Miss Warren?” It wasn’t a well-bred voice, but rather tremulous, as if afraid of being rebuffed. “I have come to beg for your help.”
The voice came from a traveling coach waiting at the side of the street. In the dim light cast by a street lamp, she spied a young woman in the half-open doorway of the vehicle. “It’s for my son, ma’am. He’s only nine years old, and he’s a good boy, I promise, but he gets into such dreadful company. I’m a-feared he’ll come to a bad end, ma’am, but I’ve no money to send him to school . . .”
Gloriana sighed as she approached the coach. “We don’t usually accept boys who have another means of support, for ours is a school for orphans, but if you wish to apply to Mr. Alexander for consideration—”
The Redemption of the Shrew (Scandalous Kisses Book 4) Page 24
