Annica fidgeted, far too distracted to sit still for long. “Are your new quarters comfortable, Mary?” she asked her maid.
“Oh, yes, milady. Mr. Hodgeson’s room is nearly plush. He and Mr. Chauncy, Lord Auberville’s valet, are getting on like great chums. Mr. Hodgeson says the man is an old freebooter. What’s that, milady?”
“A freebooter is a…well, a pirate. But I am certain Auberville would not employ a man of questionable reputation.”
“Aye, milady. And Mrs. Eberhart is a dear woman, for all that she had her beginnings in a tavern.”
“Mrs. Eberhart? Are you certain?”
“Aye, mum. Seems as if all of his lordship’s servants have a ’past,’ if you take my meaning.”
Annica smiled faintly, approving of Tristan’s willingness to give people a second chance. “Who oversaw my move to Clarendon Place?” she asked.
“Me an’ Hodgeson, an’ Mrs. Eberhart. Your writing table and books are in his lordship’s library. Your paints and canvases are in the nursery. Mr. Chauncy said the light is very good there in the morning. Shall I lay out for the morning?”
Morning! Annica could not even think past this moment, this night. “No, thank you.” She glanced again toward the adjoining door, feeling anxious and apprehensive at the same time. A thin shaft of light appeared and her heart took a leap. Having no idea what Tristan had been thinking all day, she could not even guess at his state of mind by now. “That will be all for tonight, Mary.”
Alone, she went to her window and pulled back the heavy draperies. No escape here, and no soft landing in the cobblestone courtyard below. She dropped the draperies and turned back to her room.
Her thin nightdress was sufficient for the summer night, but she pulled a velvet robe close about her for protection of another kind. She took a deep breath and knocked softly on Tristan’s door.
Chauncy appeared on the other side and bowed to her. “Yes, Lady Auberville?”
She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “His lordship?”
“I regret, milady, that he has not yet returned.”
She glanced over the valet’s shoulder to see that he had been turning down the bedding on a huge four-poster bed and banking a fire in the fireplace. “Oh. I…I was just going to, ah, say good-night.”
“You are retiring, milady?”
She frowned and rubbed one temple. Was she supposed to wait up? Oh, she should have paid more attention to Aunt Lucy’s endless advice!
“Ah! A headache, milady? I shall have Mrs. Eberhart bring you some headache powder.”
“Thank you, Chauncy.” Perhaps Tristan would come to her. Did he even care, now that he had got her neatly trapped? She turned the thick gold posy ring on her finger. Studded in emeralds, the inside bore the motto Only You, but she suspected the sentiment was the jeweler’s, not Tristan’s.
“Will that be all, milady?” Chauncy asked, furrowing his brow in concern.
“Yes, Chauncy. I just…thank you.”
The door closed again, and Annica went to her bedside and turned down the wick on the oil lantern.
Deeply fatigued, she lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes to contain her tears.
The message from Madame Marie on Monday morning caught Annica by surprise. Mr. Renquist had arranged his affairs to meet with her during her appointment with the modiste. She refolded the note and put it aside with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, then glanced at her aunt Lucy and Ellen over her teacup. They had come to call upon her and assure themselves that she was none the worse for wear as Lady Auberville.
“From Madame Marie,” she said, explaining the interruption. “My new blue gown is ready for a fitting.”
“Ellen and I shall come with you,” Aunt Lucy bubbled. “Ellen will be needing some new lingerie for her trousseau.”
Annica cast a glance at her delicate cousin. The girl was stirring her tea rather more vigorously than necessary to dissolve the sugar.
“Thank you, Aunt Lucy, but I must meet Charity. She is helping with the design, and we set this appointment last week. Perhaps I could arrange a fitting for Ellen on Thursday. Would that suit you, Ellen?”
Her cousin kept her gaze lowered, and Annica suspected she was hiding some strong emotion. “Thank you, ’Nica. Thursday would work well for me.”
“Capital!” Aunt Lucy proclaimed, standing and dusting the cake crumbs from her lap. “Annica dear, I am delighted to find you so well. It appears that marriage agrees with you. I am sorry to have missed Auberville, though. I thought he would bring you back after your wedding to have a celebratory cup, but I suppose he was anxious to, ah…” her aunt managed a very convincing blush “…be private with you. Will we see him tonight at the Lawsons’ fete?”
“I cannot say, Auntie. I am certain he will try to put in an appearance, as it will be our first social engagement as a married couple. He has some sort of meeting earlier. Constance is accompanying me.” She stood to walk her guests to the door. “Would you care to join us, Ellen? Gilbert, too, if he’d like.”
“Y-yes. That would be very amusing.”
“How jolly,” Aunt Lucy said, taking her gloves and reticule from a servant in the foyer. “Thank you for arranging an appointment for Ellen with Madame Marie. She is by far the most popular modiste in London these days. And thank you for including Ellen in your plans tonight, ’Nica.”
In truth, Annica wanted a private talk with her cousin. Ellen’s peculiar behavior indicated that something was bothering her. “We shall call for you at nine o’clock, Ellen. Will Lord Dennison be at the Lawsons’, too?”
“I believe he intends to stop by on his way to his club.”
“I shall be sure to look for him.” Annica gave her a benign smile over the top of Lucy’s head.
Twenty minutes later, Hodgeson declared he would wait on the street outside Madame Marie’s. “I am confident no harm can come to you in a dressmaker’s shop, milady. There is little mischief for even you to find in such a place.”
Annica gave him a fond pat on the arm and smiled. “Thank you, Hodgeson. I am impressed with your diligence.”
A shop bell above the door rang to announce her presence. She took a moment to glance at herself in a cheval mirror placed in an alcove and turned from side to side. Was she different today? No, she looked the same.
Then why hadn’t Auberville come to her since their marriage? From adolescence onward, she had heard tales of wedding nights fraught with bliss and some with disaster. Never indifference. Had she imagined his tentative admission of love?
Or had her behavior the night before their marriage so shocked and dismayed him that he no longer found her desirable? Had the revelation of her past disgusted him, and had her commitment to justice unsettled him? Well, two could play at that game!
“Such a dark look!” Charity exclaimed as she entered the shop and gave Annica a quick hug. “Who has crossed you, ’Nica?”
“Auberville, I suspect.”
“Speaking of Auberville, you will never believe the absurd rumors going about!” Charity laughed. She removed her gloves and waved them as if to dismiss the notion. “The ton has it that you and Auberville were wed Saturday!”
“We were, Charity.”
Charity’s eyes grew round in amazement. “Good heavens! But you said you’d never—that is, you swore that—”
“We were engaged in negotiations. The marriage should not have come as such a complete surprise.”
“That is how Auberville crossed you, is it not? Did he coerce your consent? Did he trick you?”
Marie’s arrival saved Annica the necessity of a reply. The modiste led them to the dressing room nearest the back entrance and opened the door for them. “I like your man, Renquist, mes chéries. ’E ees very ’andsome, n’est-ce pas?”
“Oui.” Annica smiled. The Frenchwoman was irresistible to men, and Renquist would fall victim to Marie’s charms in short order, Annica knew. Within a month, she and Charity would be treated to all t
he details of Renquist’s techniques beneath the sheets. While discreet to a fault regarding her clients, Madame Marie had no such scruples where her own life was concerned.
The door closed behind them and Francis Renquist came out from behind a tall dressing screen. “Ladies,” he said.
Charity got right to the point. “Hello, Mr. Renquist. According to Madame—”
“She’s a corker, that one,” Renquist interrupted, beaming.
Annica grinned. “Yes, she is quite amusing, Mr. Renquist, but hold fast to your heart. She is not the marrying kind. Now, what have you found for us?”
“As requested, milady, I put several men on Morgan, and also on Wilkes.”
Annica frowned. “The villain is Wilkes. The whole affair is out in the open, and it is no longer necessary to keep up a pretense of friendship. We need to know how to destroy him as quickly as possible. ’Tis a whole new game, Mr. Renquist. No longer ‘who,’ but ‘how.’”
“I can see that, milady. But, to the point, I sent for you because I have a bit of information that might be right up your alley regarding the missing women—”
“Frederika Ballard? Or missing women in general?” The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Renquist shook his head. “One of my men, in the process of investigating Wilkes and Morgan, came across an odd set of coincidences. Twenty-eight women have gone missing in the past two months. That this fact came to light while investigating your suspects suggests a connection, milady.”
Annica’s heartbeat accelerated. “Go on, Mr. Renquist.”
Renquist’s face revealed an internal struggle, further evidenced by his hesitation and eventual sigh. “There is more, Lady Auberville, but I would prefer not to say what it is at this point. It could be dangerous.”
“Please, Mr. Renquist,” she asked, “keep us informed of any developments. If there is treachery afoot, we had best know it. But remember, Wilkes is our primary objective at the moment.”
Renquist gave her a curt nod. “I will be in touch, milady,” he said on his way to the door. “Very soon.”
“How queer,” Charity said when the door closed behind him. “What are you thinking, ’Nica?”
“That this may have something to do with Frederika, and Madame Marie’s seamstress. And that, if Geoffrey Morgan had reason to call upon Constance, he could have met Frederika.”
“Met her and wooed her?” Charity tapped her cheek with an index finger. “You may have something there, ’Nica. You’ve always said there is more to him than meets the eye.”
Amused by her instant acceptability, Annica received well over ten invitations—including a voucher to Almack’s—within an hour of her arrival at the Lawsons’ grand ball. Society, it seemed, had decided to forgive all her political and social indiscretions and give her a second chance in view of her marriage to the eminently respectable Lord Auberville.
“The invitation to Almack’s has already met the dustbin, but I shall be able to take advantage of one or two invitations before I fall from grace again,” she told Ellen with an ingenuous smile as she smoothed the drape of her elegantly cut, midnight-blue gown. Matching velvet roses nestled in her dark curls, and she had chosen a sapphire-and-pearl necklace to complete her costume. Tristan had sent word that he would meet her here later, and she wanted to do him credit despite the fact that she had planned a little revenge for his absence the night before.
“Fall from grace? ’Nica, are you planning something outrageous?” Ellen asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary…for me,” she said. “It is the tax march. I have not yet told Auberville.”
Ellen’s eyes widened. “Good heavens! He will be very angry,” she warned.
Annica shrugged, wanting to reassure her cousin without actually lying. “Ellen, you need not worry about me.”
“I am glad, ’Nica. I worried when Papa told me you and Auberville were wed. All your talk of marrying for affection and such, and then to accept a proposal—well, I vow I thought there was more behind the whole thing than I was told. Indeed, I feared that Auberville had compromised you in some way. I have heard whispers that he is a very deliberate and relentless man, and that he always achieves his goals.”
“Yes, he does have that reputation, Annica,” Constance agreed. “I have seen strong men, confident men, stand down from an issue when your husband takes the opposite side.”
Annica shrugged. “Do not trouble yourself over it. I have no problem standing up to him. And now the deed is done, I am more comfortable with the concept.”
“You are fond of Auberville, are you not?” Ellen persisted.
“Quite over the top. He is really rather amazing. He is very accomplished, and has talents I could not possibly have guessed.” Annica smiled, thinking of their night at Naughty Alice’s brothel.
Constance rolled her eyes and laughed. “On those words, Lady Auberville, I think I shall go find Charity and Grace. I am anxious to hear who has come tonight, and who has not.”
Annica knew Constance was referring to Roger Wilkes. “I shall join you in a few moments, Constance.”
Ellen was still focused on her questions regarding Annica’s marriage. “Was your match the coup de foudre you spoke of? The thunderbolt of love?”
“Yes, indeed,” she admitted with a sigh, “though I did not immediately recognize it as such.”
“Then I envy you, ’Nica.”
“Pardon me?”
“Well, to have found such an illusive thing as love…while I have come to believe that such vaunted emotions do not exist, or that I am simply incapable of them—”
“Oh, Ellen! I was afraid of that. You must not wed Dennison. You are young yet. There may be more for you.”
“Annica—” Ellen began.
“Gads! It must run in the family!” Annica exclaimed.
“What runs in the family, Lady Annica?” a masculine voice asked.
Completely disconcerted, she turned to find Geoffrey Morgan standing at her shoulder. “Um, our looks, Mr. Morgan.”
He laughed. “Ah yes, I can see it. If not for the difference in hair color, eye color, height and weight, you could be twins.”
Ellen smiled and excused herself, saying she had promised this dance to her fiancé.
Morgan bowed to Annica. “Since I find you alone, Lady Auberville, may I prevail upon you for a dance?”
“Actually, Mr. Morgan, I was hoping I would see you tonight and that we might have a few words together.”
“This sounds serious. Would you prefer to converse on the dance floor, or should we find a quiet spot where we can speak uninterrupted?”
“In the interest of discretion, perhaps we could take a cup of punch to a quiet place?” she suggested.
“My pleasure.” He offered his arm and led her to the punch bowl near the terrace doors.
When he had filled two cups, they went out into the balmy night and sat on a stone bench, near enough the doors to be within the bounds of propriety. This was something Annica had never worried about before, but she suspected the possibility of causing embarrassment to Tristan would keep her from doing a great many things she used to do.
Geoffrey Morgan took a sip of punch and regarded her with a thoughtful smile. “I must say I am intrigued, Lady Annica. What could you have to say to me that requires privacy?”
“’Tis about Sarah.”
“Ahh.” He nodded, a strange light in his deep hazel eyes. “What about Lady Sarah?”
“At the masquerade, when you and Auberville came across us in the conservatory, how much did you hear?”
“Enough to answer a few questions.”
“What questions?”
“Why Lady Sarah cannot tease and flirt as other women her age. Why there is always a member of your bluestocking society lurking somewhere about her.”
“Lurking?” she huffed.
“Your instinct to protect her is quite admirable, but have a care not to smother her. Too much protection could
keep her from regaining her self-confidence.”
“And not enough protection could cause her to be a recluse, afraid to venture out at all. Believe me, Mr. Morgan, we are doing all we can to help Sarah regain her pride and self-confidence. I am surprised that you, who barely know her, presume to know what is best for her.”
“I meant no insult, and I am sorry if you took it as such. In truth, I presumed such a thing owing to my affection for the lady,” he said in a conciliatory tone.
“Affection!” she scoffed. “What underhanded deeds have been done in that name, I wonder? Just answer my question, please.”
He glanced around and lowered his voice discreetly. “I heard what was done to her, and that there were others in addition to Wilkes. I deduced that her friends have kept it secret to protect her good name and position.”
“What will you do with that information, Mr. Morgan?”
“What did you expect, Lady Annica? That I would take an ad in the Times to expose her? Or did you think I’d whisper it abroad? Perhaps you feared that I’d use the information to force her to unpalatable deeds, as Wilkes attempted to do?”
Annica could feel heat creeping up her cheeks. Lord! What had she thought? “Please, Mr. Morgan. I barely know you, certainly not well enough to make any assumptions about what you might or might not do. My purpose in speaking with you was to ask if you will keep her secret.”
“What will you offer to buy my silence? Hush money? Your favors, perhaps? Now there’s an interesting idea.”
“I was relying upon your honor as a gentleman.”
“What did you think I would do?” he repeated.
Warranted or not, Mr. Morgan’s anger was a little frightening. And she had questions of her own, though she dare not ask them. Where were you when Mr. Bouldin was killed, Mr. Morgan? What do you know about missing women?
But she had to respond to his question. “I feared you might repeat what you witnessed in casual conversation.”
“Did I not tell you that I have a fondness for Lady Sarah?”
“Yes, but that could mean almost anything. Especially now that you know what has happened to her.”
“Good God! You think me that malicious?”
A Wild Justice Page 16
