by Regina Scott
And what was she to say? She knew where her devotion lay. The Royal Society was waiting, ready to recognize her as they had other accomplished artists among the aristocracy. Artists of the Royal Society were patronized by the queen and the royal princesses, the works admired far and wide. She would be the most fortunate of mortals if she were allowed to join them.
“Thank you for bringing Lady St. Gregory,” she told Lord Robert. “It was most kind of you. I’m sure you understand when I say you’ve given me much to think about.”
He rose, smile soft, as if he knew the storm that raged inside her. “Of course. But I shall see you the day after tomorrow, at our engagement dinner. We’ll be signing the settlement papers then.”
His tone was firm, and she knew she should agree. Once she signed those papers, she was as good as married. There’d be no crying off, not unless he did turn out to be something altogether horrid like a jewel thief or virgin smuggler. But at the moment, all Emily could give him was a nod. He seemed to accept that, for he offered her a bow and went to the door.
As soon as he was gone, Emily collapsed onto the nearest chair. Why was he being so nice? He’d forgotten to mourn his own father, dismissed the woman he loved with no more thought than he’d give the morning’s tepid tea. Why encourage her? Why help her? Could it be that Lord Robert felt something for her after all?
As it was, Emily’s feelings were as jumbled as an upset paint box. How wonderful to think someone cared as much about her painting as she did! How noble that he’d tried to find a compromise that allowed her to keep her dreams. How ridiculous that the best he could find to praise in her work was the nasty look on a horse’s face! How horrid that Lady St. Gregory of all people could see nothing more.
But Emily had to show her more! The ball was her last chance. Lady St. Gregory would never be convinced to return to the town house now. Emily had to create the perfect painting, a feast for the eyes, the epitome of beauty and grace, and all within the next four days!
Unfortunately, for any of that to happen, she must also prove Lord Robert Townsend a criminal, once and for all. She just hoped he really was a criminal and not simply out to steal her heart.
16
The Frill of the Chase
La Petite Four began their quest the next morning, but they had to wait an inordinate amount of time for Lord Robert to get up. Emily finally sighted him through the crack in the shutters on Priscilla’s carriage window, as the coach stood parked just down the square from the Townsends.
“He’s coming out the door,” she said to the others seated around her.
As Daphne smothered a squeal, Priscilla rapped on the wooden panel above their heads. A moment later, the panel was slid aside, and the florid face of her family coachman appeared.
“You know what to do, Mr. Wells,” Priscilla said.
“Yes, miss.” He shut the panel; the coach moved forward.
“What will we do if he notices us?” Ariadne whispered as if Lord Robert were standing just outside the door.
“He won’t,” Emily predicted. “How many brown carriages are there in London with unremarkable horses?” She glanced at Priscilla. “Sorry, Pris. You know what I mean.”
“That’s the first time,” Priscilla replied with a grin, “I’ve ever considered it a blessing.”
It was a considerable blessing. The way Lord Robert felt about carriages, he would have easily recognized His Grace’s with its ducal arms emblazoned on the door. He would certainly have noticed the pair of perfectly matched black horses Daphne and Ariadne’s father used to pull their carriage. Priscilla’s rather drab equipage blended right in. And it wasn’t a tilbury.
Emily was also grateful that the Tates had been persuaded to let La Petite Four go for a drive together, without Mary or any other companionship other than Mr. Wells. Priscilla had convinced her parents that Lady Emily was pining away inside her house all alone and wanted to see more of the grand city. No one would get out, chase gentlemen about London, or in any other way contribute to a scandal.
At least, not yet. Thank goodness Priscilla’s coachman was up for a lark and impressed enough by His Grace’s title to do their bidding. Daphne, unfortunately, was less willing.
“I will not follow him on foot,” she said, sitting back on the worn leather seats and crossing her arms over the black satin edging on her yellow short jacket. “Lord Snedley says that St. James’s is the hunting grounds of the gentleman about town. I refuse to be the prey. Especially not after what happened last time, with the canine.”
Ariadne toyed with the silk fringe on her shawl. “I think Lord Snedley simply meant that a number of gentlemen might be found on St. James’s. That’s where White’s is, you know.”
And that’s where Lord Robert was heading. They all took turns peering out the windows at the famous gentleman’s club as Robert’s coach approached it, with theirs not far behind. The neat white building with its black shutters boasted a bow window overlooking the street.
“I’ve read that Beau Brummell and his friends sit there and comment on the ladies passing,” Ariadne confided.
“And you cannot tell me,” Priscilla said, “that the ladies don’t know it.”
“What do you think he’d say about us?” Daphne asked.
Emily wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the most notorious fashion arbiter of their time would say about her. She’d heard he’d once required a gentleman to change his cravat fifty-seven times before the Beau was satisfied with the tie of the neck cloth. She was glad they were safely anonymous in Priscilla’s carriage.
“He’s leaving again,” Priscilla reported from the window a short time later. “And he’s on foot this time.” She turned to look at Daphne. “Someone better go after him.”
Daphne threw up her hands. “Oh, very well. I suppose it’s not so bad during the morning. Come along, Ariadne. I need a chaperone.”
“If we do this again,” Priscilla told Emily as the door closed behind them, “we must find disguises.”
“I brought my evening cloak,” Emily replied, “but it’s not much help in the daylight. Mary told me her sister works for an actress. She’d probably know what to do.”
They speculated on which actress it might be, then lapsed into silence. Emily rubbed her gloved finger against the dark wood panel of the door. She’d been trying to think of a way to mention Lord Robert’s perplexing behavior from the day before, but somehowshe hadn’t been able to bring up the matter in front of Daphne and Ariadne. Perhaps it was best just to state the matter.
“Lord Robert took me into his embrace yesterday,” she said, glancing up in time to see Priscilla’s emerald eyes widen.
Her friend tossed her golden curls. “You should not have given him the opportunity. Now he’ll think you’re sweet on him.”
Emily wrinkled her nose. “I rather doubt that. As soon as I realized what was happening, I jumped up as if he were on fire. Why would he do something like that, Pris? Hug me, I mean.”
“A scoundrel like Lord Robert prides himself on his ability to turn a lady’s head,” Priscilla said, voice stern with authority. “I do not trust sweet words, Emily. They rarely lead to anything but trouble.”
Emily frowned. “But what if the fellow is sincere?”
Priscilla waved a hand. “If he is sincere, he’ll offer for you, preferably with a diamond of some sort in hand.”
Lord Robert had offered. And she supposed he hadn’t held out a diamond or any other jewel because his family was not well off. Yet he claimed everything was fine financially. Oh, was she ever to learn the truth about the fellow?
Priscilla had returned to her spot between the shutters. In the shadowed coach, the sounds of London came softly: the rattle of carriages passing, the rumble of wheels and clatter of hooves on cobblestones. But the longer they sat there, the more Emily’s nerves tensed. Perhaps following Robert again wasn’t such a good idea. What if he were a worse scoundrel than she thought? What if he saw Daphne and Ariadne
following him?
What if he were no villain after all, and Emily caused a scandal greater than Priscilla’s aunt?
“There’s Berry Brothers,” Priscilla commented. “Purveyors of fine wine. They have a scale big enough to weigh a man upon.” She pulled back to eye Emily. “I wonder if I could prevail upon them to lend it for our guests’ amusement at the ball.”
Emily nodded but with no feeling. Would Lord Robert remember Daphne and Ariadne from their brief meeting at His Grace’s town house? They had said the least to him.
“Oh!” Priscilla cried.
Emily stiffened. “What? Are they in danger?”
“No,” she pouted, nose to the crack in the shutters. “You should see the crowds at Harris’s. The new lavender water must have come in, and we’re missing it!”
“Will you please attend to our task?” Emily hissed.
Priscilla waved a hand in her direction. Mr. Wells turned the horses to circle the block.
By the time they started down St. James’s again, Emily’s foot was tapping on the floor. What if Lord Robert suspected their purpose? Surely he wouldn’t accost her friends on a public street. But what if he drew them into an alley? It was not unknown for young ladies to disappear in the dark of London. Maybe he really was smuggling virgins! What had she done?
“Give over,” she demanded, shoving Priscilla away from the window.
“Well, I like that,” Priscilla said with a sniff, throwing herself back into her seat. “May I remind you, Lady Emily, that this is my carriage?”
“Yes, yes,” Emily said. “And this is my future.” She peered through the crack. Where were Daphne and Ariadne? Where was he? Other carriages passed, blocking her view. A group of gentlemen erupted from one of the clubs, crowding the pavement with the sound of their husky laughter.
Mr. Wells slowed the carriage, then stopped it, and she caught sight of Ariadne’s pink pelisse. Emily barely fell back from the door before the girl snatched it open, and she and her sister jumped in.
“He just hailed a hack,” Daphne said as she fell into her seat. “Heading south, toward Pall Mall.”
Priscilla rapped on the panel. “Did you hear that, Mr. Wells?”
“South toward Pall Mall. Very good, miss.” He called to the horses, and the carriage picked up speed.
“Well?” Priscilla demanded as Ariadne sat fanning herself with one hand. “What happened?”
“I’m so glad you convinced me to go,” Daphne answered, voice trembling in her excitement. “It was beyond delightful. He visited an apothecary, a haberdashery, and a perfumery. Lord Snedley never mentioned that men needed perfume.”
“Spare me his shopping list,” Emily said. “Did he do nothing interesting?”
It turned out that he had done nothing they could connect to what they already suspected about the man. But at least, with Lord Robert safely ensconced in another carriage, they could open the shutters and watch the city pass as they chased him.
He led them around the gatehouse to St. James’s Palace, the redbrick towers with banners flying looking like something out of a medieval fairy tale, then on toward palatial Carlton House, where the Prince Regent lived. Grand churches with beggars on their stone steps, businesses with dark-coated gentlemen scurrying to and fro, and shops crowded with London’s most fashionable flew past their windows. Watching all the grandeur, Emily nearly forgot about the chase.
It wasn’t until they reached the shopping district of Fleet Street that Lord Robert stopped again, leaving his hired hack to loiter in front of a modiste’s shop as fashionable as Madam Levasard’s. Daphne left the shutters open just the slightest, so that they all could see. The ladies inside the dressmaker’s shop noticed him as well. Emily could see them peering out the window and whispering behind their hands.
Another lady strolled up, and by the way she smiled at Lord Robert and held out her hand, Emily did not think the two of them had just happened to meet. She had black hair that cascaded down her back in heavy curls, and an emerald velvet hat with a single peacock feather waving over the flat top. Jeweled bobs dangled from her ears, and fur trimmed her jacket. A maid with a ribboned cap was standing just behind, trying to pretend she was invisible.
“That’s the Marchioness of Skelcroft!” Ariadne exclaimed. “I’ve seen her caricature in the papers.”
“And those are diamonds at her ears,” Priscilla added. “And see the drape of that gown? Straight out of La Belle Assemblée, the ladies’ fashion magazine.”
As they watched, Lord Robert raised her hand to his lips and held it there far too long. Lady Skelcroft tilted her head to gaze up at him. Emily could almost hear her giggle from the carriage. She reached for her locket and held on tight.
“She’s married, you know,” Ariadne said quietly. “And her husband is worth five thousand pounds a year.”
“That must be the married woman with whom he dallied,” Emily said, amazed the words came so calmly when her heart was hitting her chest so painfully. How could he look at that woman so tenderly when only yesterday he’d held Emily in his arms? “Does it appear to you that the dalliance is ended?”
As if he knew she was watching, Lord Robert turned suddenly and walked away. The lady’s smile faded. Her shoulders hunched in the fine jacket, making her look far older. She turned and barked something to her maid, who scurried after her as they continued down the street.
“Perhaps,” Priscilla allowed. “Oh, boys can be so unfair!”
“I think she’s the one who’s unfair,” Daphne said, raising her chin. “She should have been loyal to her husband. Lord Snedley would have insisted upon it.”
“Well, it looks as if her husband is stingy,” Priscilla said, as if that excused the lady’s actions. “I’ve seen a set of ear bobs very like those. Aunt Sylvia had them. Her husband bought her a matching brooch.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps Lady Skelcroft had a matching brooch as well, before she met Lord Robert.”
“Oh,” Ariadne said with a delighted shiver. “Yes, of course. What if he stole something from every lady with whom he dallied? I can see the headline now: ‘He could not steal their hearts, so he stole their jewels instead!’” She reached for her reticule and started hunting for her journal.
“But we’ve already established that he could not have stolen Acantha’s pearls,” Priscilla pointed out. “She merely misplaced them.”
“Perhaps he didn’t steal from Acantha,” Daphne said. “Even jewel thieves must have some standards.”
“At least you know he isn’t after your jewels, Emily,” Ariadne said, obviously unwilling to give up the idea. “He actually offered for you.”
That was small consolation. Besides, if he’d stolen jewels from all the ladies with whom he’d dallied, why weren’t any of them complaining? Emily could not understand him. Was he or wasn’t he a scoundrel?
From Fleet Street Robert hailed a hack to Doctors’ Commons. So close to the Thames, the air was thick with the briny tang of the river. The heavy stone buildings sat around a center courtyard, and Emily and the others could see men and women of all walks of life hurrying back and forth. Close at hand, a family stood with heads bowed, faces pinched, their black coats and hats proclaiming them to be in mourning.
“That building is where wills are debated,” Ariadne explained.
Across the way, three gentlemen strode out of another building. Seeing Lord Robert, they paused to clap him on the back and offer their hands. Emily was at a loss as to why.
Ariadne looked at her with pity. “That’s the only place in England you can purchase a Special License to marry.”
Emily felt ill.
She felt no better as the afternoon wore on. The sun was setting as Lord Robert returned to his club. Daphne and Ariadne were nodding off in their seats, and Mr. Wells reminded Priscilla that the horses needed their beds.
“He must have seen us,” Priscilla said as they watched the lamplighter approach on St. James’s. “That is the on
ly explanation for his exemplary behavior today.”
Emily shook her head. This was maddening! She couldn’t go another night wondering whether Lord Robert was true in his courtship, worrying that she would never see the ball. She had to discover his secret, to save her future and her sanity.
“Wait,” Priscilla said from the window. “I think he’s just come out again, on foot.” She turned to Emily. “Shall I have Mr. Wells follow him?”
“No,” Emily said, opening her evening cloak and slipping it about her shoulders. “If he’s on foot, I shall follow him this time.”
“Oh, Lady Emily,” Daphne cried, “you can’t! Think of your reputation if you are caught!”
“Better a tarnished reputation than a life married to Lord Robert,” Emily countered, though her heart began beating more quickly at the thought.
“At least with a tarnished reputation you’ll be less attractive to the slave markets,” Ariadne said, as if that would cheer her.
“Just keep me in sight,” Emily told them.
They nodded, wide-eyed, and she climbed from the carriage.
Mr. Wells looked startled to see her, but no more startled than she to see the changes in St. James’s with the twilight. Gone were the strolling dandies, the fashionable ladies. The women across the street were no ladies at all, their lips bloodred as the lamplight flared to life above them.
Shadows leapt away from her, growing larger. Emily felt as if unseen fingers reached out to drag her down. Even the air seemed colder as she sucked in a breath. She would never dare show her face in the daylight again if it were known she’d been so foolhardy as to venture down St. James’s after dark.
But she would not give up. Before Mr. Wells could stop her, Emily pulled her hood about her head and hurried off.
Lord Robert was heading away from White’s into the area where the lamplighter had yet to go, leading her deeper into the darkness. Emily’s hands clutched the cloak about her, clammy. In the dusk, she could just make out the chestnut of Robert’s hair. What had he done with his hat? There was also something odd about the way he moved, hunched over, shuffling along as if daring her to follow. Did he know she was there, or had he already had too much wine? Did she truly want to face him when he was foxed?
