by Sandra Heath
Athan drew a long breath. “I know it’s all tenuous, and that it might not succeed, but I’m prepared to match myself against Dalmatsky, and if I know you at all, John Arbuthnot Billersley, then I think that you are too. Let us prove that the British can outwit any impertinent Russian bastards who think they can ride roughshod over everyone and everything. And if at the same time we can honor Nikolai’s memory by securing the freedom of his family, then so much the better. Come now, what do you say?”
John straightened from the stool and took Athan’s hand to pump it wildly. “Yes, I say yes!” he cried, suddenly more enheartened than he would have dreamed was possible.
“Good man! And in the meantime, can you extricate the diamond from the lid without harming the latter?”
“I can do my damnedest.”
“Well, if the lid is lost, it is lost. There is nothing that can be done, but the diamond can be returned to the Tower. Secretly, of course, for it won’t do for the Russians to find out. Oh, and one more thing ...”
“Yes?”
“When this Blodyn Evans business is dealt with, may I have your niece’s hand in marriage?”
“I’ll think about it.” John pretended to be serious, but then gave a broad grin. “I’ve thought. Yes, of course you can!”
Chapter Twenty-six
Athan’s visit to the town of Merthyr, at the head of the Taff valley, proved to be very rewarding in the matter of ending his betrothal to Fleur. Everything that Taliesin Rees had said was the truth, and before nightfall Athan knew that he had been lied to with a vengeance. Fleur and her mother were no more General Tudor’s family than they were saints, although they had indeed lived with him. They were about to receive a very salutary shock about their future.
He lodged overnight at the Star Inn, where Lord Nelson and the Hamiltons had stayed during their tour of 1802, and early the next morning drove back down the Taff valley to the busy market town of Pontypridd. There he sought an immediate meeting with his local lawyer, Mr. Iwan Vaughan, whose premises overlooked the world-renowned single-span stone bridge that gave the town its other name, Newbridge. Vaughan, who was known for his utmost discretion, owned a number of properties in the county that he rented or leased, and it was in this connection that Athan wished to see him.
The lawyer’s smile and warm greeting concerning Athan’s betrothal died away in shock when he learned for whom a leased house was being sought. He was even more shocked when he learned why. He showed Athan a list of available properties, from small cottages to modest estates, and it was not long before the latter decided upon one that was perfect for his unwanted lady guests.
It was a small house in a village on the far western boundary of the county, well away from Castle Griffin, and from society in general. Athan swiftly arranged the lease, and for a sum of money that would ensure that Fleur and her mother did not starve; then he left again, the keys in his pocket.
He was just about to shake hands with the lawyer and leave again, when Mr. Vaughan said something that made him pause.
“Lord Griffin, are you acquainted with an English gentleman whom I would describe as being your age, with dark blond hair that he quite clearly curls of a night. He has very pale blue eyes, and reminds me of a lizard, although a very well dressed one, to be sure. I believe that in the best circles he would be termed a Corinthian.”
Freddie Forrester-Phipps, Athan thought. “I think I may be. Why do you ask?”
“Such a man has been staying at the Newbridge alehouse, down by the river, and has been asking questions about Miss Tudor. Not that anyone around here could help him, beyond confirming what we believed to be true—that she was General Tudor’s heiress daughter, and betrothed to you. I would not have mentioned it, but now that you have come here like this today....”
“Thank you, Mr. Vaughan. I am grateful to you. Is the fellow still at the Newbridge?”
“Yes. Is there anything you wish me to do about him?”
Athan smiled. “You have friends in low places, I take it?”
“I have friends everywhere, my lord.”
“That I can well believe. No, I don’t wish you to do anything, except perhaps have a quiet word with the landlord of the Newbridge, to warn him that his guest is a slippery fellow who is likely to flit in the middle of the night without paying his bill. Mind you, such information did not come from me, is that clear? I don’t want the gentleman in question to know that I am aware of his presence.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Athan emerged from the lawyer’s doorway to walk to his carriage, which had been obliged to wait a little way up the street, but as he walked the few yards he suddenly heard Gwilym call him.
“My lord? Look this way, if you please.”
“Gwilym?” Athan turned in surprise, wondering why the horse charmer was in Pontypridd. The youth was standing there behind him, but did not seem to be really there at all, because Athan could see right through him.
Gwilym swept an arm to encompass the busy street, then pointed at a horseman who was about to emerge from a lane that ran down to the riverbank. It was Freddie, spurs gleaming, top hat at rakish angle, Corinthian attire making him the very picture of high fashion. He wouldn’t have been observed if Gwilym hadn’t drawn attention to him, but as Athan thought about calling out in order to confront Freddie, Gwilym wagged a reproving finger to silence him. Then, becoming less distant with each step until he’d disappeared altogether, the horse charmer crossed the street. But he was still there, as Athan soon realized from what happened next.
There was a large stone horse trough on the corner where Freddie emerged. Quite suddenly there was a wild splashing from it, and something silver leapt into the air and then plunged down again. Freddie’s horse was frightened and reared up with such force that he was caught completely off guard. Losing his stirrups, Freddie fell heavily to the ground, where he lay winded. No one else around seemed to have seen the eel in the horse trough, but everyone saw Freddie take a tumble.
Gwilym spoke softly in Athan’s ear, just his voice, for there was no sign of the youth himself. “You will see this Englishman fall again before the year is out, my lord.”
Athan continued to watch the scene on the corner, where there was much amusement among the bystanders at the sight of such a starched and stylish gentleman lying flat on his back, but several men went to assist him.
He wasn’t particularly gracious, snatching his riding crop from a helpful hand, and then doing the same with his top hat. He glowered at the watching townsfolk, who quickly went on about their business; then he went to examine the horse trough. The water was still again and did not seem murky enough for anything to be hiding at the bottom.
Nevertheless, he jabbed around with his riding crop. There was nothing. Yet he had distinctly seen an eel. Hadn’t he? He glanced at the trough again, then tugged his top hat angrily over his forehead. Damn this place to hell; the sooner he secured the Tudor fortune, the better, so he could return to London ... and civilization!
Athan’s carriage followed Freddie as he left Pontypridd behind and rode south along the turnpike in the direction of Nantgarth. After about a mile he struck to the left up an old packhorse track that crossed the canal and then led up over the mountain toward Caerphilly. It was the same mountain that three miles ahead would end above Nantgarth House.
As the carriage continued along the turnpike down in the valley, Athan twisted to watch until the contours of the mountain hid the no-longer-quite-so-elegant horseman from view. Was Freddie making for St. Dwynwen’s in the hope of finding another message from Fleur? Perhaps he was hoping to meet the lady herself.
Athan sat back again and gazed at the rich upholstery of the opposite seat, aware that the incident outside the lawyer’s premises had been very supernatural indeed. Yet he, Athan, Lord Griffin, a supposedly educated man, had observed almost without raising an eyebrow. Such was his acceptance of Gwilym Lewis.
He sighed, and looked out of the carria
ge window again, his thoughts turning instead to the problem of Fleur. Somehow he still thought of her by that name, because she really did not seem like a Blodyn. He wondered just what her game really was. She had secured a very fine match, yet did not seem capable of devoting herself to just one man. Was Freddie her lover? And if so, why? Was she hedging her bets? Keeping a second lover in the background in case things went wrong with the first? Maybe, but Freddie had been disinherited, which was hardly likely to make him appealing to a woman like Fleur.
Athan could understand a passing fancy during her Season in London, when there hadn’t been a betrothal anyway, but not that it would continue now. Could it be true love? Athan doubted it, for Freddie was incapable of such an emotion, and so, he suspected, was Fleur. But what if neither of them was aware of the other’s true situation?
Might Freddie be hoping to get his disinherited hands on General Tudor’s fictitious fortune, and Fleur be keeping Freddie dangling because she believed he had his banker father’s estate? Freddie would take second place in her estimation compared with the Griffin title and vast fortune, but he was far better than nothing at all, should her betrothal end—and it was about to, in no uncertain fashion!
The carriage drove on, and after calling at Nantgarth House to tell Ellie and her uncle what he’d found out, Athan continued to the castle, intent upon ejecting Fleur and her mother that very day. The very last thing he expected to happen upon was Fleur in flagrante, not with Freddie, but with Prince Valentin Andreyev! The early return from Merthyr caught everyone by surprise. He intercepted Mrs. Tudor—or rather, Flossie Evans—going through the papers in his desk, and before she could recover from the horror of realizing the game was up, he’d gone to Fleur’s apartment and discovered Valentin fleeing from her bed as if the hounds of hell were upon him.
The Russian darted out through the window and clambered up the ivy, his escape assisted by Fleur’s hysterical sobs as she flung herself upon Athan’s mercy. Naked and still warm from her lover’s attentions, she sank to her knees and grasped Athan’s thigh, thus inadvertently preventing him from lunging after Valentin. It wasn’t her intention to aid Valentin’s flight, but that was what she achieved.
Athan decided against dealing with Valentin there and then. Let him go. His downfall would be much greater to effect at the undoing of the plans he and his uncle had hatched. In the meantime the fellow could report to Dalmatsky that the diamond was in place in the tureen.
These thoughts flew through Athan’s mind as Fleur, weeping distractedly, begged him to believe that she had been forced to surrender because Valentin had vowed to harm Athan himself if she did not become his lover.
Athan looked contemptuously down at her. “Come now, Blodyn, my dear, you don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”
She was a consummate actress, recoiling in puzzlement, her fiery hair cascading magnificently over her shoulders, her upturned breasts revealed to full advantage as she raised her big green eyes to his face, “I ... I don’t understand....”
“Oh, yes, you do.” He wrenched himself from her grasp, and stepped back several feet to look at her. “You are the illegitimate offspring of Flossie Evans of Merthyr and an incontinent Caerphilly clergyman, and you and your mother have been masquerading as General Tudor’s dependents. Well, you’ve been rumbled, and I want you both out of here within the hour.”
He tossed the keys on the floor in front of her. “You have a new home now, and a small income, but only because of the respect I had for the general. The coachman knows the address. I warn you, it’s not a castle.”
Fleur stared at the keys as if they were about to turn into a poisonous viper. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t happen, not to her....
“Get dressed,” Athan snapped, “for I meant it when I said I wanted you out of here within the hour.”
She tried to collect her wits. “There is a mistake, Athan,” she said, her voice gathering momentum as she regained a little control. “I really do not know what you are talking about. I’m not called Evans, and Mama certainly was married to the general, whose daughter I swear that I am.” She crossed trembling arms over her breasts, and bowed her head so that her hair fell forward. Oh, she could play the martyr.
“Don’t waste your breath, or my time. I know about you, and about Freddie Forrester-Phipps. I confess I hadn’t thought you’d go quite so far as to bed Andreyev too, but it seems you will stoop to anything.”
The mention of Freddie convinced her that the game was indeed up, and as she struggled to her feet, her lovely face became twisted with loathing. “Well, it took you long enough, Athan. How amusing it would have been had you remained in ignorance until after the nuptials.”
He turned from her in disgust. “I advise you to get on with your packing.”
“How did you find out?” she demanded. “Was it Taliesin Rees?”
“Yes.”
“He couldn’t have told you about Freddie,” she observed suspiciously, “so how ... ?”
“My lawyer in Pontypridd,” he replied, for it was true enough, in a manner of speaking. “Freddie has attracted attention by making inquiries about you. I would hazard he’s trying to discover how much you are worth. Oh, that vast Tudor fortune must be a great carrot to him.”
Athan laughed when he saw the flush that stained her cheeks. “A word to the wise, Fleur. Freddie is penniless too. His late father disowned him, so don’t imagine you can fall back on him. You won’t see his elegant heels for dust when he discovers exactly how destitute you really are.”
“I don’t believe you,” she breathed. “This is just your petty spite.”
He shrugged. “View it how you please; it makes no difference to me. I am going to marry the woman I love, and you cannot even begin to know how good that is.”
Her face became ugly with loathing. “The potter’s niece? Well, I suppose one adventuress is as good as another. She isn’t the angel you think, you know. Somehow she found out about her likeness to Caroline and—”
“There was never a Caroline, Fleur. I lied to be free of marriage-seekers. The portrait is of Ellie, and I bought it before I ever saw her. I also fell in love with her before I ever saw her. Sweet serendipity brought her here to me. You have never meant anything to me, any more than I have meant anything to you, beyond being your provider, of course.”
“Serendipity? Well, how very cozy.”
“Don’t make matters worse by venting your spleen on Ellie. You and your mother have only yourselves to blame for your present predicament. If you had been honest with me when the general died, I would have been generous enough. I’d have thought you both meant something to him, and I’d have recompensed you accordingly. As things are, you may count yourselves fortunate that I am fool enough to give you a roof of any kind over your heads, as well as enough money to buy your bread. Beyond that, I owe you nothing.”
“You think you and Ellie Rutherford are going to emerge from this unscathed? When society sees Mama and me reduced to lowly circumstances while you take a new wife, you will be ostracized for—”
“Oh, no, Fleur, for if you imagine I will let you say what you please and hold my own tongue, you could not be more wrong. If you speak out of turn about Ellie, or even hint that she is the reason for the ending of our betrothal, I will tell the world about your lies, and about how I found you in bed with Andreyev. Your silence will mean my silence. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. Well, it seems Mama and I are at your mercy,” she replied, hating him with everything she had. “You will regret not marrying me, Athan.”
“I think not.” He inclined his head, then walked from the room.
She gazed after him, “Oh, yes, you will,” she breathed as the door closed.
An hour later she and her weeping mother were driven out of the castle. Valentin had already departed, having cravenly left many of his belongings behind rather than risk coming face-to-face with Athan. He stole a horse from the stables and put as much d
istance as possible between himself and Castle Griffin. His destination was Lowestoft, where the Troitskoe waited to take him back to St. Petersburg. He wasn’t afraid to leave the diamond, being certain that no matter what, in due course it would follow him to Russia.
* * *
That evening, at a very small dinner party at Nantgarth House, Athan and Ellie became engaged. That evening too, John was sadly unsuccessful in his efforts to save the tureen lid when he removed the diamond, but the diamond itself was utterly perfect. He placed it on the table before them all, its many facets flashing red, crimson, scarlet, and even gold in the shifting light of a candle.
Athan put it in Ellie’s hand. “There,” he murmured, “you are holding a jewel so rare and flawless that an emperor dreams of possessing it.”
She gazed at the magnificent stone, then smiled at him. “I prefer to dream of being your bride,” she said softly as she handed it back to him.
John breathed out slowly. “And I prefer to dream of Athan and I being safely back here from St. Petersburg.”
Ellie looked at him, then at Athan. “And where does my name figure in this?”
“You are to stay here,” Athan replied.
Her eyes flashed. “Remain behind while you and Uncle John are embroiled in heaven knows what dangers? Never!”
“Ellie—” they both began together, but she would have none of it.
“I am coming with you. The only way you will stop me is by locking me up, and if either of you contemplates doing something like that, I will never speak to him again!”
John looked at her, saw the steely shades of her late mother, and raised his hands in submission. Athan looked crossly at him. “John, we cannot possibly allow Ellie to—”
