She rang the bell.
"I'm going up to London tomorrow, Frobisher,” Selena said. “I have yet to sort out the refurbishment of the townhouse."
"Should you send a message first, my lady?” Frobisher said. “I fear the house will not be made ready for you."
"Then I shall have to put up with it,” Selena said, smiling.
"You will be taking your maid, then my lady?"
"Very well, Frobisher,” Selena said, making a small concession to convention. “Send Sarah to me, will you?"
The next day she climbed into the carriage and left home again. On her instructions, they departed Halcrow Hall at first light and made the trip with only one stop to change the horses. It was dusk when they reached the bustling, smoggy London streets.
They traveled past the shadowy Hyde Park gardens. When the coach stopped outside one of the narrow, three-storied townhouses in Park Lane, Selena found herself trembling. She grew annoyed with herself, she needed to be strong and she'd never felt so weak and lily-livered. She tugged at her gloves and straightened her bonnet.
The coachman banged on the door until a maid opened it. Selena and Sarah waited in the hall as the housekeeper and the butler were brought up from their meal below stairs.
"Mrs. Hawkins, my lady.” The tall, long-faced woman curtseyed, but not before Selena caught the look of surprise and curiosity in her face.
She had expected it.
"And this is the butler, Mr. Hawkins."
Mr. Hawkins was the opposite of his wife, rather short and round, but with an open, friendly face.
"I'm glad to meet you both. We shall discuss housekeeping matters tomorrow. I'll take a light supper in my room. This is Sarah my maid. “Sarah, go and have your dinner. I shall do without you tonight."
She turned back to the housekeeper. “If you'll show me the way, Mrs. Hawkins?"
Selena proceeded to follow Mrs. Hawkins’ thin, stiff frame across the black and white checker-board of tiles and up the grand staircase. “As you see with the knocker removed and the furniture covered, we were not expecting you until the Season began, my lady,” she said, managing to sound accusatory and deferential at the same time.
"I won't stand upon ceremony, have no fear, Mrs. Hawkins."
The suite was half the size of the one she occupied in the country, but it was far more elegant and well-dusted. Gyles had apparently seen to it that this house was kept in good order. A young maid knelt to light the fire.
"Hurry yourself, Lucy, Lady Devereux is waiting."
Lucy jumped to her feet and gave a bob while straightening her cap.
"Put fresh bed-linen on the bed, Lucy, and bring hot water,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “Make sure it's hot, mind."
"Yes, Mrs. Hawkins.” Lucy hurried from the room.
"There is a water-closet down the end of the hall, my lady."
"Thank you.” Selena drew off her gloves and hat. “Is Lord Devereux here?” she asked casually.
The housekeeper's eyebrows rose. “Why no, Lady Devereux. We haven't set eyes on his lordship since before the wedding."
Selena went to look out the window, giving herself time to regain her composure. She could feel Mrs. Hawkins studying her.
Had she come on a wild goose chase?
Across the road in the park, shadows detached themselves from shadows and moved stealthily through the trees.
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Chapter Seven
When Sarah came in the next morning with her hot chocolate, Selena thumped her pillows and sat up in bed. Where had her errant husband gone? Was he lying ill, or worse, dead, somewhere? Or in another woman's bed? As these horrid thoughts filled her head, she made a decision to visit the Horse Guards. It wasn't far from Park Lane, she might even walk there.
"What do you think of London, Sarah?” she asked the maid as she took Selena's gowns out of the trunk and shook them out.
Sarah turned to her, her eyes enormous. “Oh, but it's ever so busy, my lady. And the noise!"
"You'd rather be in the country then?"
"Oh no, my lady. I like it."
Selena left the house and the scandalized expression of Mr. Hawkins behind, walking off down the street unaccompanied. It began to rain and she unfurled her umbrella. At the corner, a street sweeper held up the traffic, she slipped him a penny and began to cross. Other women walked the streets in pairs wearing patens. The circular rings attached to their shoes raised their feet above the foul-smelling, brown gutters and horse manure on the unpaved, muddy street. One would have difficulty striding out wearing those, she thought. Mincing along would surely get on her nerves.
By the time she'd reached the corner, she'd had quite enough of the trying conditions. She took the hanky from her nose and hailed a passing hackney. When they reached Horse Guards Road, she paid off the driver and went to the entry of Army Headquarters.
A soldier barred her way.
"I am Lady Devereux,” she said. “I wish to see someone in authority."
"Do you have an appointment, Lady Devereux?"
"No, but it's very important."
As the soldier stood implacably in her way, a man entering the building stopped beside her. He raised his tall, black hat. “Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing. You are Lady Devereux?"
"Do you know my husband, Earl of Halcrow?"
He nodded. “I may be able to help you. Come this way, if you please."
He led her along a corridor to his office. Shutting the door, he turned to shake her hand. “George Scovell. Please sit down, Lady Devereux. May I offer you some refreshment?"
"No, thank you. Do you have news of my husband, Mr. Scovell?"
He removed his hat, brushing it and laying it carefully down. He had bushy, grey sideburns. He sat down behind a desk and formed a steeple with his fingers, pausing before speaking. “We are not sure where your husband is at the present time, my lady."
Selena stared at him. “But you have done? Recently?"
He looked towards the closed door. “I'm sorry. I can't tell you anything more. You should go home and wait. Be patient, he shall return to you presently. All being well."
"All being well?” Selena rubbed the skin at her temples. Her head had begun to ache.
He frowned. “There are many dangerous people in London, Lady Devereux. I suggest you return to the country, at least until the Season begins. For your sake and your husband's."
"Might my husband be a spy, Mr. Scovell?"
"Surely you don't expect me to give you any information regarding the army's intelligence services."
"I'm not a flat and able to be tricked, Mr. Scovell.” She rose.
"I see that,” he said thoughtfully. “Did you come in your carriage?"
She shook her head.
"I'll get a soldier to escort you home."
"There's no need, I'll hail a hackney."
"That's not wise. I must ask you to be careful, Lady Devereux."
"Why?"
"You may be placing your husband's life at risk."
Selena stared at him.
"You don't think Napoléon's spies will resort to anything to get the information they seek?"
"But I have nothing of importance to tell them."
"More than you think. You are asking questions where prying eyes may be lurking."
"Can you tell me if Gyles is in London?"
He shook his head and tapped his nose.
Frustrated and now more nervous than ever, Selena walked outside to find a soldier waiting beside a carriage. She tried to come to terms with what Mr. Scovell had hinted at. English spies, French spies, all moving about secretly in London? Was Gyles one of them? Or was he behind enemy lines?
She could do nothing but climb into the carriage as the soldier held the door open for her, and allow herself to be driven back to Park Lane. She had been foolish to come here. But Gyles had allowed her to think poorly of him. Why hadn't he just told her a Banbury story that would keep her in the coun
try? The answer to that was suddenly clear. He said he would never lie to her.
Selena spent the rest of the week conferring with Mrs. Hawkins and meeting the rest of the servants. As she suspected, the house was run like the army, all spit and polish. The day before she was to leave for the country, a caller sent up her calling card. Surprised, Selena read the name on it: Lady Amelia Rowntree.
"I'll see Lady Rowntree in the drawing room, thank you, Hawkins.” Selena left the linen she was sorting with the housekeeper and rushed to her room to tidy her hair.
When she came down to the drawing room, she found a pretty lady of a similar age to herself sitting on the settee.
She rose and came forward as Selena entered the room. “Lady Devereux, I've long wished to meet you. Lord Devereux and my husband, Phillip are friends."
Lady Rowntree was dressed in the first stare of fashion. She wore a crimson wrap trimmed at the collar and cuffs with spotted ermine, and a fur hat like a helmet covering all but her curly, auburn fringe.
"Is your husband an army man?” Selena asked, sitting down beside her as the tea things were brought in.
"No. I believe he and Lord Devereux were at school together,” Lady Rowntree said.
It did not surprise Selena. Gyles had told her nothing of his friends.
"I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me this evening. I have an extra ticket for the ballet at the Theatre Royal,” Amelia said, taking the teacup in her dainty gloved fingers.
"How kind of you to invite us, but my husband is away from home."
Amelia smiled. “No. Just you and I. My husband is absent too, on business, and I'm in need of company."
"How did you know I was in London?"
Amelia gave a tinkling laugh, showing her small, pearl-like teeth. “London is really a small town, Lady Devereux. And at this time, with most still away in the country, word gets around very quickly. I've been looking forward to meeting you, since your husband told us of your wedding."
"When did you and Lord Devereux last meet?"
"Did he not tell you?"
Selena shook her head feeling herself blush.
"Why, it was when he was last in London. He told us you were indisposed and unable to come."
"Yes, a hateful cold. I should be charmed to come, Lady Rowntree."
Lady Rowntree laid a gloved hand on her arm. “Amelia, please. Let us dispense with formality. I feel we shall quickly become firm friends."
Selena smiled warmly. “You must call me Selena."
Amelia clapped her hands. “Oh, Selena, we shall have such fun."
But when Selena went to dress that evening, it was not fun she had on her mind. She chose the Pomona green slip, trimmed round the bottom with a border of lace. She had had it made for her honeymoon to please Gyles. He had never seen it. Annie thought it brought out the green of her eyes and complemented her skin. Sarah did her hair up in curls, weaving flowers into the arrangement. From her jewelry box she chose her pearl necklace, eardrops and bracelets. Her jewelry was that of an unwed girl. Most of her mother's had been given to Anne as the eldest child. One day she hoped to have something finer, but for now these would serve their purpose. She nervously donned her silver kid slippers and pulled on white, French kid gloves.
Amelia came in her carriage to collect Selena. She looked every inch a modern lady with town bronze in her white satin gown and cap. They were to be escorted by her cousin, Mr. Rafe Brocklehurst. A short, dark-haired man, he bore no family resemblance at all to his cousin.
"So wise of you not to wear the Halcrow emeralds,” Amelia said, giving her tinkling laugh. “It wouldn't do to have them lost or stolen while your husband is absent. He would never believe you hadn't sold them."
"The emeralds are being repaired,” Selena said. “A broken clasp."
Amelia herself wore a fabulous, diamond necklace. It fanned out from her creamy throat like a cobweb on a dewy morning, with one very large diamond nestling in her décolletage.
"Clever wives have paste copies made,” Mr. Brocklehurst said, eyeing Amelia's necklace. “I must say,” he went on, “That I am blessed to have two such lovely ladies on my arm tonight."
"Lud, Rafe,” Amelia said, tapping her fan on his knee. “In truth, you are sick to death of your cousin's company, which is why I have invited Lady Devereux to entertain us."
The carriage pulled up in Drury Lane and they made their way into the theatre. Amelia's box gave a fine view of the stage. From around the lofty, richly decorated theatre, people leveled opera glasses in their direction. At interval, they drank a glass of wine as Selena was introduced to many people, their names and faces she could never hope to remember.
She enjoyed the graceful dancers, but as soon as the curtains swept closed, her concern for Gyles returned to tighten her stomach.
In the carriage, Amelia said, “Oh, where shall we go for supper. I know, Lord Pemberton's soiree.” She turned to Selena. “Pem would be delighted for us to come. I have a standard invitation."
"A capital idea,” Rafe said, before Selena could refuse. Thinking that it would give her the opportunity to search among the ton for information about Gyles’ whereabouts, she agreed.
To the north of the city, the carriage drove through a pair of ornate gates into a walled garden. The mansion was ablaze with braziers, its doors and windows thrown open to enjoy the surprisingly mild night. The gardens were filled with people laughing and chattering. Couples in evening dress strolled about the terrace. As they alighted and came up the steps, a series of loud bangs sounded and the night sky lit up with a splendid array of fireworks.
"How pretty,” Amelia said. “Come, I'll introduce you to Pem.” She took Selena's hand and dragged her through the crowd into a large reception room. A tall man stood by the fireplace one hand on the mantle. He appeared to be delivering an oration to the attentive group of men and women gathered around him.
Amelia rushed forward. “Pem, I'd like you to meet the Earl of Halcrow's bride. Lady Devereux, Lord Pemberton."
Selena guessed him to be about thirty. He bent over her hand, his brown eyes smiling up at her. “How charming,” he said. “Why haven't we met before?"
"I lived in Bath, Lord Pemberton, before my marriage."
"A cultivated place, Bath, architecturally speaking,” he said, managing to praise it and denigrate it in the one sentence. The room broke into laughter.
Selena opened her mouth to rush to Bath's defense, but Lord Pemberton didn't pause for breath. “It does breed unusual beauties though. I'll say that for it."
She felt her cheeks grow warm as everyone stared at her. “If that's a compliment, then thank you, my lord,” she said with a small curtsey. “But if your observation of Bath is anything to go by, I fear it is not."
He smiled as polite applause spread through the room. “I am seldom known to be clumsy or inarticulate, but feel I've been both.” He took her arm. “Come, I shall get you a glass of wine and we will talk.... “He turned to the assembled gathering following the conversation closely. “...Where there are not so many ears."
They moved to the door and left the crowd laughing and chattering among themselves. She heard someone say, “Pem's got a beauty in his sights."
Whisking two glasses of wine from the waiter's tray, Lord Pemberton guided her out onto the terrace.
For once, the deadly London fog had forsaken them and the night was pleasantly clear and cool. Clouds shifted across the moon, creating a play of light and shade over Lord Pemberton's face as he sipped his wine. “And where must Lord Devereux be that he would leave his lovely bride so soon?"
Selena wanted to ask many questions herself, but she remembered Scovell's warning. “He has been called deep into the country, my lord. A sick relative. He will return to London for the Season."
His face was shadowed when he asked, “His Uncle is ill?"
Selena cursed silently, Gyles only had one relative. “Yes, Uncle Alistair. He resides in Tunbridge Wells."
; "You didn't feel the need to accompany him on his familial duty, Lady Devereux?"
"I have been ill myself,” she said, marveling at her ability to lie so adroitly. “A cold. He didn't feel it wise."
The playful moon emerged from behind a cloud again. She caught the sharp expression in his brown eyes. “I feel I need to inform you of my credentials,” he said. “My father is Lord Privy Seal, Lady Devereux."
"Sir Arthur Pemberton, the leader of the House of Lords.” Of course, she'd heard of him.
He looked relieved. “I hope to follow in his shoes one day. I am also an old friend of your husband."
"When did your friendship begin?"
"We were in the same year up at Cambridge. Gyles went into the army, I into politics. I know what he has been up to, Lady Devereux. I want to help him."
"In what way?"
He leaned over the balustrade, staring down into the dark garden. “I have come to believe that Gyles has turned his back on England, since his father's estates were taxed almost out of existence and he died as a result of it. Gyles now spies for Napoleon."
Selena's heart began to pound. “I don't believe it!"
"Gyles’ mother was French. He has many French relatives, you must know that."
Selena flushed. “I still don't believe it."
He looked at her coolly. “Can you give me any information you have to disprove my theory?"
"No. I just know Gyles is proud to be English. His years in the army...."
"A man can be both a brave hero and a traitor. It depends on where your loyalties lie."
Selena shook her head. “It does not fit the man, Lord Pemberton. Not the man I know."
"How well do you know him?"
She was silent for a moment. “Did you have Amelia bring me here?"
"I need you to help me, help him, Selena. Are you brave enough?"
"To do what?"
"If you place a piece in The London Times newspaper, Gyles will emerge from hiding and a small, loyal band of his friends will be able to help him."
"Why should I do such a thing?"
"You must include some personal detail that only the two of you know,” he continued as if she hadn't spoken. “Please think on it, Lady Devereux. I'll send a servant for your answer tomorrow. No one need know any of this."
Love and War Page 5
