by Regina Scott
Gregory’s mother and sister turned at the sound of her exclamation.
“Ramsey!” his mother cried.
“Your ladyship,” she acknowledged as they and Villers moved closer. “Lady Lilith, Mr. Villers.”
Though Gregory sometimes missed the social nuances, there was no mistaking the chill in her tone.
“How do you know Miss French?” Lilith demanded.
“Well, I…” Patience turned to Harry in appeal.
Harry put his arm about her waist. “Carrolton asked Patience’s advice as to whether Miss French would suit you. I can see she has done well in the position. You all look stunning.”
Yvette and Meredith looked pleased by the compliment to her efforts. Villers nodded approvingly, Gregory’s mother preened, and Lilith smiled complacently. Gregory could only marvel at how easily lies slipped from his friend’s tongue. Patience had met Yvette when Harry and Julian had rescued the Frenchwoman from a prison house on the Continent. To keep others from questioning Harry’s activities, Patience, who had joined the household to assist Harry’s aunt in her apothecary studies, had pretended to be betrothed to the baronet so she could cover for his absences. Their false engagement had led to a true love.
“You remember my aunt,” Harry continued, motioning to someone across the room. “Mr. Villers’s sister has been staying with us as her apprentice.”
Gregory bowed to the tall, spare woman in navy who strode up to them, a pale-haired blonde in a frilly white dress at her elbow. “Gussie. Miss Villers.”
Augusta Orwell had never been one to stand on ceremony. She shook hands all around, causing Gregory’s sister to raise her brows and their mother to lower hers. Villers’s greeting to his sister was surprisingly cool as well, but Lydia Villers didn’t seem to notice, for the sunny smile remained on her pretty face. Those big green eyes did not give credit to the intelligence inside.
“I must brag on Lydia,” Gussie told them all now. “She recently made a discovery that is highly promising for my formulation. Cod liver oil.”
Every woman but Miss Villers made a face. She giggled. “You wait. When you see what it does for your skin, you won’t mind the smell.”
Somewhere a bell rang with a silvery tinkle.
“Mine is far superior,” Gregory’s mother muttered.
“Ladies, gentlemen,” Julian called. “We will be going in to dine shortly. I wanted to take this opportunity to toast the bride and groom.”
Around them, the room fell silent, all eyes on the happy couple standing beside him at the head of the room, arm in arm.
“Wey,” Julian said. “I’ve known you since we were lads. I’ve seen you grin as you took your horse over a jump, smile at the antics of your daughters. But I have never seen you as happy as when you married your beloved Jane.”
The duke’s gaze was all for his wife.
“Jane,” Julian continued, “I can safely say I’ve never met a more forthright, caring woman, capable of stepping into the role of wife, mother, and duchess.” As she blushed, he raised his goblet. “To the Duke and Duchess of Wey—long may they be as happy as they are today.”
“To the Duke and Duchess of Wey,” the guests echoed, glasses high.
Yvette caught Gregory’s arm before he could take a sip. “There,” she whispered. “Behind the duke.”
He saw who she meant immediately. A footman stood slightly behind Julian and the bride and groom, as if ready to usher the guests in to dine. Her cousin must have dyed his hair, for the once-red curls were now a dirty brown. Still, Gregory was certain it was the same man he’d seen in the churchyard.
The guests began making their way toward the dining room. Gregory refused to wait.
“Watch the ladies,” he advised Harry before starting forward himself. His size made it easy to shove his way through. A hand on his coat told him Yvette was following. He caught Julian’s eye and jerked his head toward their quarry.
Julian was cooler than Gregory could have been. He struck out his goblet in the fellow’s direction. “You there. Fill this and be quick about it.”
Yvette’s cousin hurried forward with his bottle. He had just finished pouring when Gregory reached their sides.
Julian’s smile was triumphant. “You are mine.”
What happened next was a blur. The Frenchman hit the stem of Julian’s goblet, ramming the glass up and into his face. Dropping the bottle, he pivoted around Gregory and seized Yvette. Gregory whirled to block the exit as the other guests streamed past, unknowing.
The Frenchman’s smile was ugly. “What will you do? I hold her life in my hands.”
“Non,” Yvette said, bringing her heel down on his instep. He reacted, and she broke free to fling herself at Gregory. Catching her close, he turned and sheltered her from whatever was coming, his body wrapped around hers.
“Stop him!” Julian’s voice pierced all other conversation in the room. Suddenly aware of the danger, women cried out. Men exclaimed. Feet pounded against the carpet. Gregory refused to move, refused to think. All he knew was that he had to keep her safe.
“My lord,” she murmured, curls tickling his chin. “Gregory. You can release me. He has fled.”
He shook himself and uncurled from around her.
She offered him a tremulous smile. “You make a very fine shelter, mon cher. Now, let us see if Mr. Mayes makes an equally fine stallion.”
Chapter Fourteen
They did not catch Claude. Somehow Yvette knew they wouldn’t. Her cousin had escaped the house and disappeared among the revelers in the village, making him impossible to locate. Perhaps if she had been closer…
She might be dead. As it was, she hadn’t even had time to slip out her dagger. And she could not forget how Gregory had wrapped himself about her, cocooning her in safety. He had been willing to take a bullet or a blade for her. What honor! What valor!
“We gave them something to talk about,” Lady Carrolton crowed as they rode for Carrolton Park later that day.
“Apparently so,” Lady Lilith replied, pulling her shawl higher. “Chasing a footman about because he attempted to pick Mr. Mayes’s pocket. What sort of staff does His Grace hire?”
“The sort he marries,” Mr. Villers quipped, and the ladies tittered.
What a relief that they believed the story Julian Mayes had put about as to why he, Mr. Villers, and several of the male guests had gone chasing after a footman right before the wedding breakfast was to be served. Most of the other guests appeared to believe the story as well, despite the bruises forming on Mr. Mayes’s handsome face. She had felt as if she should apologize to the new Duchess of Wey, but the lady had been overheard to laugh at the matter.
“At least they stopped talking about me for a while,” she’d said.
“Still, Gregory,” Lady Lilith said now, gaze turning to her brother seated across the coach and next to Yvette, “I never understood why you felt you must gather French so close.”
Gregory’s cheeks turned red, and his mouth worked as if he were struggling to come up with an answer.
Yvette had pity on him. “I saw the act, your ladyship. It was my first thought to pursue the villain. The earl prevented me from being so foolish.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. Quite.”
She was glad he didn’t elaborate. The look on his face betrayed everything to anyone looking closely. He didn’t like the fact they must lie to his family. He was chagrinned he couldn’t think of a more convincing story. And he was still worried about her.
It would have helped if they could have had more than a short conversation with Mr. Mayes and Mr. Villers as they regrouped before going in to the wedding breakfast.
“Can we stop this nonsense and ensure Miss de Maupassant’s safety?” Gregory had demanded.
“No,” Mr. Mayes had said, jaw stubborn. “The plan’s working. We nearly had him.”
“Nearly being the operative word,” Gregory pointed out.
“It would have helped if others ha
d been as attendant,” Mr. Mayes replied with a look to Mr. Villers.
He threw up his hands. “What do you expect? The fellow could strike anywhere, at any time. How am I to explain that I am stuck to the companion’s side?”
Mr. Mayes frowned. “You have a point.”
“You are courting Lady Lilith, non?” Yvette challenged.
He glanced at Gregory, who was scowling. “I was considering it.”
“Bon. To her you are devoted. I am merely the chaperone.”
Mr. Mayes nodded, brow clearing. “Excellent. Be on guard, gentlemen. I’ll report the incident to Lord Hastings and relay any instructions. Expect me at Carrolton Park in the next few days.”
“And Meredith as well?” Yvette had asked.
He had glanced to where her friend was talking with the new duchess. “I’ll see what I can do.”
~~~
Oh, if only she’d felt comfortable bringing Fortune with her. Meredith forced her trembling hands to still. Yvette’s cruel cousin had been in this very room, a threat to her friend. Still, Meredith’s first thought had been to help Julian.
He made his way to her side, dark blotches on his handsome face. She wanted to touch him, hold him, but propriety demanded that she keep her distance.
“That was eventful,” she made herself say.
His smile was tight. “Not eventful enough. He escaped.” He glanced down. “And my cravat is ruined.”
It was. Crumpled beyond repair and purple from the wine that had spilled. “Better that than your face. If the crystal had broken…” She couldn’t finish.
He took her hand. “I’ll be fine, Meredith. The greatest wound is to my pride. We were so close.”
Far too close, but she decided not to belabor the issue. “And what now?”
“Carrolton is taking Yvette back to the Park. Villers will remain on duty, for all that’s worth. I’ll speak to Hastings and report to them. Yvette wondered if you’d be willing to accompany me.”
“Of course.”
His smile deepened at her quick answer. “I need to clean up, but I can escort you in to breakfast if you’d like.”
A few guests still loitered in the gallery instead of going in to the buffet. One, in fact, was heading in their direction, blue eyes bright and brown hair tightly curled around her narrow face. Panic poked at her. Meredith grasped Julian’s arm and attempted to steer him toward the breakfast room.
The little woman, a few years her junior, detoured to meet them. “Pardon the intrusion,” she said in a high sweet voice, “but I believe I know you. Aren’t you Miss Rose, companion to Lady Winhaven?”
Worse and worse! Her stomach plummeted to the soles of her feet. Yet there was no use denying it. Julian knew her real name. He was frowning at her as if he had never seen her before.
“Once,” Meredith allowed. “How good of you to remember. Miss Pankhurst, is it not?”
“Yes, indeed.” Like startled birds, her fingers fluttered before her sky blue gown, but Meredith knew it was gossip rather than a perch she hoped to find. Distantly related to her former employer, Miss Pankhurst survived on being asked to dine to spill all she knew.
“How have you been?” Meredith asked, hoping to forestall the woman. “You were living with your brother when last we met.”
Her lips turned down, making her crooked nose look longer. “Yes. Poor Georgie passed away, and I have been assisting Miss Worthington ever since. But what of you? What adventures you’ve had! I was astonished about the scandal.”
She would not leave off. “Some are always keen to take advantage of misfortune,” Meredith allowed. She turned to Julian, who was watching the exchange. She could not read the look in his eyes. “Mr. Mayes, do not allow us to detain you.”
Miss Pankhurst tsked. “Certainly, sir. Your efforts were admirable, but your cravat was punished. You must see to it.”
“Yet how could I use such a feeble and vain excuse to force me from such pleasant company?” Julian countered with a winning smile. “You were talking about a scandal, I believe.”
“Surely not at a wedding,” Meredith tried, but her nemesis brightened and stepped closer to Julian.
“You hadn’t heard?” she asked, patting an errant curl back into place. “Oh, it was quite sensational. I am related to Lady Winhaven, you know. I’m related to half the finer families in England.” She tittered, the sound like fingernails on a blackboard to Meredith’s nerves.
“Lady Winhaven,” Julian mused. “The elderly heiress who died last year?”
“The same. Miss Rose was her companion.”
She could not breathe. “It’s Miss Thorn now, and I really must insist we head in to breakfast. We wouldn’t want to disappoint the bride.”
Miss Pankhurst darted to block her way forward. “I merely wished to offer my condolences. How difficult it must have been for you.” She looked to Julian instead. “Lady Winhaven allowed minor matters to overtax her, I fear. I understand she was attempting to persuade Miss Rose as to the proper way of behaving when she dropped dead of apoplexy.”
The memory loomed up, halting all other thought more surely than Miss Pankhurst’s titter. One moment her employer had been shouting at her, face its usual florid color, the next she’d choked and collapsed, eyes staring at the ceiling. And after the shock had faded, joy had surged up, because Meredith was finally free. And that feeling had only made guilt come crashing down.
“I prefer not to speak of it,” Meredith informed her tormenter now. “If you’ll excuse me, I should find a seat.”
“Allow me,” Julian said, taking her arm.
Miss Pankhurst tried one last time to detain them, but Julian sailed past as if her calls were no more than whispers in the wind.
He saw her to a seat not far from the head table, where she knew a chair was waiting for him. Bending low, he murmured, “You cannot allow such drivel to disturb you. Will you be all right if I go clean up?”
She nodded. If he stayed, she’d only find herself answering the questions that must be crowding him. As it was, she sat and smiled and made conversation with those around her, but she didn’t taste one bite of the wonderful wedding breakfast.
He would cut her off. Miss Pankhurst must not have put two and two together and realized that Meredith had received a bequest from her late employer, but Julian would remember the case now that the horrid woman had brought it to his attention. Meredith’s lawyer had done all he could to keep her name out of it, and she had changed her name to prevent any connection. But there were some who still whispered that Mary Rose had killed her mistress and profited from her death.
Surely, he wouldn’t abandon her immediately. He had escorted her to the wedding, so he must return her to London. When he rejoined her just as she was making her farewells to Jane, she was so tense she thought she might snap in two. She flinched as he handed her up into his curricle.
He didn’t speak until he had directed the horses east.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Meredith countered, voice sharper than she’d intended. “You have been content to forget the gap in our relationship—that time between when you left to seek your fortune and when you discovered me again. I explained that I had been a companion.”
“But not the circumstances,” he protested. “I begin to see why. Alexander told me about the case.”
Of course he would. Alexander Prentice had been Julian’s mentor, the solicitor who had set him on the path to success. He had represented Lady Winhaven’s heir, who had attempted to have the will dismissed, for it left Meredith with a sizeable bequest he had believed she didn’t deserve.
“The woman was demonstrably negligent,” the older solicitor had argued before the magistrate. “Why, her incompetence may well have led to her mistress’s demise. She should be tried for murder, not rewarded.”
Meredith shuddered at the memory. “It was a very dark time, Julian. I don’t like discussing it. It has no bearing on who I
am today.”
One hand on the reins, he reached out the other to cover hers on her lap. “But it does, Meredith. You survived an ordeal—the harsh treatment, the trial. That changes a person, makes one stronger.”
It did indeed. No more was she willing to allow injustice to overpower her. “Your mentor thought otherwise.”
“Alex was arguing a case,” Julian said. “I don’t have to agree with him on his approach or his opinion.”
Meredith glanced his way. His smile gave her hope. “Then you won’t disassociate yourself now that you know the truth?”
“Never,” he vowed. “I don’t berate you for what happened. I admire your courage. I only wish I had been there to help.”
“So do I.” The words came out far too quietly. As if he thought so too, Julian pulled the horses to the grass at the edge of the road, drew the vehicle to a stop, and turned to take her into his arms.
“Forgive me, my sweet Mary,” he murmured. “I’ve missed so much, left you when you needed help. Alex never told me the name of Lady Winhaven’s companion. If he had, I would have found you sooner.”
She wanted to believe that. So much had conspired against them. Was it possible they might still have a future, together?
Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Villers could not put the plan in place and request Yvette as chaperone for him and Lady Lilith as soon as they returned to Carrolton Park. Lady Lilith and her mother repaired to the countess’ dressing room, where they proceeded to criticize everyone at the wedding as they changed out of their finery. Yvette took a moment to change as well and came back to find them still at it.
“And the Duke of Emerson,” Lady Carrolton complained as Ada helped her into her dinner dress. “The older daughter was passable, but I understand the younger daughter thinks she might be a painter. He needs to take a stronger hand.”
“That is nothing compared to Sir Trevor,” Lady Lilith argued, patting her hair into place after changing her gown. “I heard he married the daughter of the fellow who was caring for the estate he inherited.”
