by Diane Gaston
Dixon shifted his weight. ‘It is a very good story. A story about how one earl murdered the other for a woman, the murdered earl’s wife! How an up-and-coming Whig rid the House of Lords of an esteemed senior Tory.’ He lifted the cane. ‘This very cane may have been the instrument of death!’ Dixon had asked for and had been given the Earl of Tinmore’s cane, the only personal item of Lord Tinmore’s that he possessed.
He launched into the story, making it as dramatic as possible, just as he rehearsed it.
He came to his dramatic end. ‘So this magistrate, a known Whig supporter—’ his investigation discovered that fact ‘—saw to it that his compatriot got off scot-free.’
The idea of a political conspiracy was inspired, if Dixon said so himself.
‘You claim this is true?’ asked the first man.
‘I know it to be so,’ Dixon replied. ‘I was there. I was butler to the late Earl of Tinmore.’
‘You saw the murder?’ the second man asked.
‘I know it to be true,’ Dixon prevaricated. ‘I seek justice.’
He waited.
The two men exchanged glances again.
One said, ‘True or not, it is a good story.’
‘We may be opening ourselves up for a suit of libel,’ his companion warned.
The first man shrugged. ‘So we disguise the names just enough. If we publish this correctly, we stand to make a lot of money.’ That sounded excellent to Dixon. ‘It could be the sensation of the Season. Make our newspaper the most sought after in London.’
The other man rubbed his chin. ‘If we publish it in pamphlet form, perhaps we can distribute it countrywide. Think of the profits then.’
The whole country against them? Dixon could hardly contain his excitement.
‘We’ll do it!’ the first man said.
The other nodded with a smug smile.
His companion said, ‘Let us have you sit down with one of our writers. Tell the story to him and we will go from there.’
Dixon frowned. Did they think he was a fool? ‘First pay me my ten pounds and write out a contract for the fifty per cent.’
‘Indeed,’ one said, gesturing to a chair. ‘Have a seat and we will do precisely that.’
The other man said, ‘Let us also send a man to check on these two today, see what they are up to. It can only enhance the story. Show how they are living without the consequences of a murder.’
Excellent! thought Dixon.
* * *
A week later Lorene’s only solace came from working on Dell’s town house. Her mother was still often in the newspapers and still quarrelling with Count von Osten, and he was spending more time away from her.
One morning after the Count stormed out of the house, Lorene tried to talk with her mother, who looked as if she were preparing to go out, as well.
‘Where are you going, Mother?’ she asked.
‘To call upon a friend,’ her mother said tersely. ‘He cannot tell me who to see and who not to see.’
‘Who did the Count tell you not to see?’ she asked.
‘A certain gentleman—you do not need to know who it is.’ She pulled on a glove.
‘Mother!’ Lorene was shocked. ‘Do not tell me you are unfaithful to the Count!’
Her mother sank into a chair and looked miserable. ‘How could I be?’ she asked. ‘Ossie is everything to me. Everything.’
‘Then why do you quarrel with him?’ Lorene did not understand her mother at all.
‘I do not know.’ Her mother waved away her maid who had brought over a bonnet that perfectly matched her walking dress.
‘He is concerned about you. That is what I see. He does not understand why you apparently seek the attention from the gossipmongers.’ Lorene could not believe she was defending the man who took her mother away, but everything he did convinced her he was devoted to her mother.
She pulled her glove off again. ‘This coming to England has been a disaster! My children despise me. My friends disapprove of me. The only people who like me are those who land me in the newspapers.’ She dropped her head in her hands. ‘And all Ossie talks of is getting married. I was all right for him before this, now suddenly even he disapproves of me!’
‘You have apparently been acting outrageously,’ Lorene said.
She looked up, eyes flashing. ‘Now you disapprove of me, too! You and Tess and Genna.’ She made a wounded, resentful sound. ‘Genna.’
Lorene lowered herself so she could look into her mother’s eyes. ‘Mother, calm yourself. Give us time. It would help if we would not be dismayed about what we read of you.’
‘Not all of it is true,’ her mother said in a lowered voiced. ‘I’ve not been unfaithful.’
She put her hand on her mother’s arm. ‘Do me a favour, then. Let me gather my sisters and Edmund and let us just talk together.’
‘I do not know.’ Her mother looked away. ‘I do not wish to have you all yelling at me.’
‘We would not do that to you,’ Lorene assured her.
‘How do I know there won’t be a repeat of that horrid dinner?’
At the Northdons, she meant.
‘I do not think Genna would repeat that.’ She hoped. ‘But perhaps you could listen to Genna a little. She is outspoken, but sometimes she speaks a truth we need to hear.’
If she’d confided in Genna before marrying Lord Tinmore, would she have gone through with it? She’d deliberately kept it a secret so her sisters would not stop her. Perhaps that was a trait she shared with her mother, sneaking away to do what she wanted to do.
‘Arrange it if you wish,’ her mother said tersely.
She squeezed her mother’s arm. ‘Thank you, Mother. Do you want your bonnet now?’
Her mother shook her head. ‘I changed my mind. I am not going out after all.’
She kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘That is for the best, I think.’
Except Lorene was expected at Dell’s town house and now she felt she could not leave her mother alone. She could not bring her mother with her without betraying the secrecy she and Dell had agreed upon.
Even if he had betrayed it by telling Lady Alice.
It was silly of her to think of it as a betrayal. He did not owe her secrecy. And she had told Mr Walters, but then, she needed Mr Walters’s help.
‘Excuse me a moment,’ she said. ‘I must speak with Mr Walters. I will be right back.’
She found Mr Walters in the library, poring over a ledger.
He stood at her entrance. ‘Good morning, ma’am. I was reviewing our expenditures on furnishings.’
‘And?’ Would he criticise her? Say she spent too much? Or too little?
Why was she worrying about the opinion of her man of business? He was not her husband who’d criticised almost everything she said or did.
‘And,’ he responded, ‘I will make a copy of it for Lord Penford along with the envelope containing the bills.’
She almost laughed. He wasn’t judging her. He was merely doing his job.
‘Excellent, Mr Walters.’
‘Do you wish to go to the town house now?’ He closed the ledger and stacked it upon another.
‘I cannot go today,’ she said. ‘Something has come up. But I need for you to go and receive the furnishings that will be arriving today.’
He looked dismayed.
‘You are not required to know where to put them,’ she reassured him. ‘I think you know which rooms the items go in. Place them in any order you wish. We can move them later.’
‘Very well, ma’am.’ He bowed. ‘I will leave directly.’
‘Thank you, Mr Walters,’ she said. ‘I am so grateful to you.’
His face flushed with pleasure. ‘Pleased to be of assistance.’
She hurried back to her mother’s bedchamber only to find her mother’s maid helping her with her bonnet.
Her spirits sank. ‘Did you change your mind about going out?’ she asked.
‘I did,’ said her mother in a firm tone that was new to Lorene. ‘But I have decided we should call upon Genna.’
This sounded ominous.
‘Never fear, my darling.’ Now her mother sounded more like herself. ‘I will listen to Genna.’ She smiled. ‘And she will listen to me.’
Lorene was not at all certain that confrontation was the best way to handle Genna. If one pushed, Genna tended to push back even harder. But with any luck she would be able to keep both of them civil to each other.
‘I’ll order the carriage and get my things.’
* * *
When Lorene and her mother left the house, Lorene noticed a man loitering at the corner of Grosvenor Square. She’d seen him there a couple of days before, too, and that seemed odd. When their carriage drove by him, he left his spot and seemed to walk behind it. By the time they reached Chapel Street, she could see the man no more.
The carriage took them on to Hill Street, where Genna and Ross leased a small town house that featured a sunny second-floor bedchamber that Genna converted into a studio. The house had no rooms grand enough for entertaining great numbers of people and that suited Genna very well. She and the Marquess of Rossdale did little entertaining.
When Lorene and her mother were admitted to the small hall, they were told that the Marquess and Marchioness were in the drawing room one floor above. They had to wait until the butler attending the door received permission to announce them. Lorene surveyed the space and mentally began to refurbish it. She would make it brighter, perhaps exchange the wooden bannister of the staircase for a wrought-iron one made in pleasing shapes.
‘Imagine one of my daughters being called a marchioness!’ Her mother broke her reverie. ‘And a duchess some day.’ Her mother laughed.
Such good humour puzzled Lorene. Her mother’s emotions seemed as changeable as a British winter. Cold and freezing one day, balmy the next.
The butler returned. ‘The Marquess and Marchioness will see you now.’
They followed him up the stairs and waited at the door of the drawing room until he announced them.
‘Mother!’ Genna cried nervously before they had cleared the threshold. ‘Lorene. What a surprise.’
She and Rossdale rose from the sofa.
Across from them stood Dell.
Rossdale immediately crossed the room. ‘How good it is to see you. Come. Sit.’ He gave them each a buss on the cheek.
Genna seemed frozen in place, but she managed, ‘We are having tea. Would you care for a cup?’
‘How very nice!’ their mother said too brightly. ‘Tea would be lovely.’
As Ross escorted them over to the sofa and chairs, Dell bowed. ‘Good day, Lady Summerfield.’ His blue eyes captured Lorene’s. ‘Lorene.’
Lorene had not expected to see him here, had not seen him since the Northdons’ dinner party when he walked her home and seemed so disturbed. She was not prepared for the emotions that erupted at the sight of him. The giddiness of her schoolgirl infatuation. The worry over his welfare. The fear that he’d made up his mind to court Lady Alice.
‘Delighted to see you again,’ her mother gushed, saving her from a need to say something when words seemed hard to form. ‘Is the Lords not in session today?’
‘Not today, ma’am,’ Dell said.
‘Why are you calling upon us, Mother?’ Genna asked in her outspoken manner.
Lorene winced inside. Genna looked prepared for battle.
Her mother gave Genna a charming smile. ‘I called so you and I could have a little chat. Will that not be simply enchanting?’
Genna looked as if she’d rather have a tooth pulled. ‘Enchanting.’
The butler brought a tray with two more cups and saucers and Genna poured tea for them.
‘What a charming little house,’ their mother said, glancing around.
Lorene thought the room lacked colour. Its walls were white with pale green plasterwork, the chairs and sofa the same pale green.
‘It suits us for now,’ Genna said. ‘And it has a good room for my studio.’
‘I would very much enjoy seeing your room and some of your paintings.’ Their mother was trying so hard to be nice. Lorene’s heart melted for her.
She glanced at Dell, whose eyes darted to her mother and back and gave her a look that seemed to understand what she was feeling.
How she’d missed seeing him. ‘How are you, Dell?’ she asked.
‘Faring well,’ he responded politely. ‘And you?’
Goodness. They were talking as if strangers.
They all chit-chatted about the weather, about each other’s health, about the tastiness of the biscuits served with the tea, but it seemed to Lorene that tension swirled through the room like the morning mist through woods. She could hardly stand it.
Her mother placed her cup and saucer on the table. ‘Well!’ she said. ‘Now that we have performed the niceties, I should like to speak with Genna alone.’
Genna looked stricken.
‘Alone?’ Lorene said. ‘Surely I should join you.’
‘No. Just my baby girl and her mother.’ She smiled sweetly.
‘Then why make me come with you? I had other things to do.’
‘You may go do them now,’ her mother said in a dismissive tone. ‘I’d prefer you not wait for me. I will see myself home.’
‘Very well.’ Lorene was stunned. ‘I will have the carriage wait for you. I will walk back.’
Her mother smiled gratefully.
‘Genna, do you want this?’ Rossdale asked.
Genna’s expression turned to resolve. ‘Of course I do. Mother and I have much to catch up on.’ She turned to their mother. ‘Shall I show you to my studio? We may speak in private there.’
‘Delighted!’ exclaimed their mother, rising from her chair.
The others rose, too.
Rossdale turned to Genna. ‘I am expected at my father’s shortly, but I will delay if you prefer.’
She gave him a fond look. ‘No, I actually prefer you go. All of you. Let Mother and me talk.’ She walked over to her mother. ‘Come, Mother. I will show you to my studio.’
The two ladies walked out of the room, arm in arm.
Rossdale said, ‘Dare I leave?’
‘I feel the same,’ Lorene responded. ‘I do not know if we should leave them alone.’
Dell spoke up. ‘They are not children. Do not treat them as such. Let them take each other on.’
Both she and Rossdale looked at him sceptically.
Rossdale took in a bracing breath. ‘You are right, of course. I must be off to my father’s. Are you bound there as well?’ he asked Dell.
‘No.’ Dell turned to Lorene. ‘Shall I escort you home?’
She did not expect that. ‘It is not necessary, but, yes, I would appreciate your company.’
‘Well,’ Rossdale said. ‘Let us go, then.’
Chapter Fourteen
When they reached the outside, Rossdale walked towards Piccadilly. Lorene and Dell headed in the opposite direction.
It was a crisp spring day with blue skies and new green leaves on the trees, a lovely day to be walking on a handsome gentleman’s arm, but there was no ease between them and Lorene missed that acutely.
‘Where was Count von Osten today?’ Dell asked. ‘I have never seen them apart.’
They turned right on Audley Street.
‘They had a quarrel and he stormed out,’ she told him. ‘Mother was so upset I was afraid to leave her alone.’ She glanced back as if she cou
ld see them behind her. ‘That is why I was reluctant to leave Genna alone with her.’
He laughed. ‘I dare say you do not have to worry about Genna. She is made of stern stuff.’
‘I am not as certain about Mother, though,’ Lorene admitted. ‘She has been moody and unreasonable since...well, since that dinner party she arranged.’
‘She seemed calm enough to me,’ he said.
‘I know!’ she cried. ‘That is why I am worried. It was a big change.’
His voice turned serious. ‘It is up to them to fix whatever is wrong between them, Lorene. Not up to you.’
Was that a scold? She could not tell. For a minute she felt their old camaraderie, but now the chasm between them returned. They walked in silence until they reached Mount Street.
She stopped at the corner. ‘I—I must say goodbye to you here. I want to check something at the town house.’
She felt his body tense. He let her slip her arm from his.
‘I bid you good day, then,’ he said sombrely.
She started to walk away, but turned back. ‘Wait a moment, Dell. I want you to come with me.’
He frowned. ‘It is completed?’
‘No, not completed,’ she admitted. ‘But I want you to see what we’ve done so far. It—it won’t be quite as settled as I wish, but you should see it.’
He looked as if he wanted to walk on, but finally he said, ‘Very well. If you insist.’
She hoped she was not making an error.
They walked to the town house and she tried the door. It was unlocked. She turned to let Dell open it when she noticed a man passing by at the corner of Mount Street and Audley. It was just a glimpse, but it unsettled her.
‘Shall we go in?’ Dell said, standing at the open door.
‘Yes.’ She walked into the hall and turned around to see his reaction.
The marble floors were partly covered with oilcloth to protect them from the furniture that was to be moved in. Only one bare table graced the hall and Dell placed his hat and gloves upon it. The walls of the hall were papered in silk the colour of the sky on this fine spring day, with faint stripes in the weave making the space look larger and taller. The marble steps of the stairway had been scrubbed and polished to their original white, but Lorene had the wrought-iron bannister painted in a shade of orange that she’d seen in a print of the Prince Regent’s Carlton House.
