The Mistress of Hanover Square

by Anne Herries

  ‘As you wish,’ Gerard said. ‘The breeze is very cold. I think we may have some snow. Should we return to the house before we freeze to death?’

  ‘Yes, perhaps we should,’ Amelia replied.

  She had the oddest feeling that he had been on the verge of saying something very different, but at the last he had changed his mind. Nothing more of note was said between them, and they parted after returning to the house. She pondered on what might have been in Gerard’s mind as she went in search of her hostess.

  It was good of him to say that he would find suitable men to protect her if he thought her in danger from her brother’s spite. If, of course, it was her brother she needed protecting from…but who else could it be?

  ‘What made you think I would be interested in such an outrageous proposition?’ The Marquis of Northaven looked at the person sitting opposite him in the private parlour of the posting inn to which he had been summoned that evening. He had considered ignoring the note sent to his lodgings in town, but curiosity and a certain intuition had brought him here. However, to the best of his knowledge he had never met the gentleman before. ‘Kidnapping is a hanging offence…’

  ‘I had heard that you have a score to settle with a certain gentleman.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’ Northaven was alert, suspicious. The other man’s features were barely visible in the shadows, his face halfcovered by the muffler he wore to keep out the cold.

  ‘One hears these things…of course there would be money once the ransom was paid.’

  ‘Money…’ Northaven’s mouth curved in a sneer, a flash of hauteur in his manner. ‘I have not yet run through the inheritance my uncle left me.’

  ‘Then forget I asked you. I had thought you might care to see Ravenshead brought down, but if you do not have the stomach for it there are others willing, nay, eager to do my bidding.’

  ‘How would this bring Ravenshead down?’ Northaven asked, eyes narrowed, menacing.

  ‘He imagines he will marry Amelia Royston. I do not wish to see that happen. Once I have finished with her, she will marry no one!’

  The Marquis of Northaven shivered, feeling icy cold. He had done much in his life that he was not proud of, but something in the tone of the person who was asking him to arrange Amelia Royston’s downfall was disturbing. Northaven had seduced more than one young woman, but contrary to what was said and thought of him, he had taken none against their will. Indeed, they usually threw themselves into his arms—and why should he say no? Handsome beyond what many thought decent, he had an air of unavailability that made him irresistible to many ladies. He was by no means a white knight, but neither was he the traitor some thought him. He might cheat at cards when desperate; he might lie if it suited him and would not deny that he had sailed close to the edge a few times, but a cold-blooded murderer he was not.

  Northaven had been angry with the men who had once been his friends. He had hated the holy trilogy, as he was wont to call Harry Pendleton, Max Coleridge and Gerard Ravenshead. He hated them because they despised him, believed him worse than he truly was, but with the turn in his fortunes of late much of his resentment had cooled. He would have dismissed the proposition being made to him out of hand, but he was curious to hear more.

  ‘Supposing I were interested in bringing down Ravenshead,’ he said. ‘What would you be willing to pay—and what do you plan for Miss Royston?’

  ‘I was thinking of ten thousand guineas. Her fate is not your affair. All you need to do is to deliver her to me.’

  The words were delivered with such malice that Northaven’s stomach turned. He imagined that Miss Royston’s fate might be worse than death and it sickened him. He was well aware that Amelia Royston had once thought him guilty of the callous seduction and desertion of her friend; he had allowed her to believe it, but it was not true. A few months previously he might have left her to her fate. He had then been a bitter, angry man, but something had happened to him the day he watched a young girl marry the man she loved—the man she had risked everything to save when she thought he was about to die.

  No woman had ever loved Northaven enough to take a ball in the shoulder for him. Susannah Hampton had been reckless and could easily have died had his aim been slightly to the left. The moment his ball had struck her shoulder, Northaven had felt remorse. He had been relieved when Susannah made a full recovery. Something drove him to mingle with the crowd on her wedding day. When her eyes met his as she left the church on her husband’s arm, they had seemed to ask a question. He had answered it with a nod of his head and he believed she understood. His feud with her husband was over.

  He had not fallen in love with her. Yet she had touched him in a way he had never expected. He had suddenly realised where he was headed if he continued on his reckless path: he would end a lonely, bitter man. For a while the resentment against his onetime friends had continued to burn inside him, but of late he had felt more at peace with himself.

  Perhaps at last he had found the way to redeem himself.

  ‘Let me think about it,’ he said. ‘Ten thousand guineas is a fair sum—and I have no love for Ravenshead. Give me a few days and I shall decide.’

  ‘Meet me here again in two days and I will tell you more. We can do nothing over Christmas. Miss Royston goes to Coleridge in the New Year—and that will be our chance…’

  Chapter Two

  Gerard cursed himself for a fool as he parted from Amelia. He had let yet another chance slip, but after discussing his daughter and her brother the time had not seemed right. If he had asked Amelia to marry him in the same breath as telling her that she ought to think of changing her will, she might have thought he was asking her for reasons of convenience to himself. He had made his circumstances clear so that when he did speak there would be no misunder-standing. He was not in need of a rich wife, though Amelia was extremely wealthy. Her fortune was yet another reason why he hesitated—but the burning problem besetting him was whether her opinion of him would suffer when he told her the truth of Lisette’s death.

  To conceal the details from her would not be honest. If they were to come out at some time in the future, she might feel that he had deceived her and there would be a loss of trust. All in all, Gerard considered that he had done what he could to prepare the ground for a future proposal. He felt they were good friends, but he could not be sure that anything of their former love was left on Amelia’s part, though every time he saw her he was more convinced that she was the only woman for him. She was beautiful, charming and the scent of her always seemed to linger, making him aware of a deep hunger within. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. Without her…

  ‘My lord…’ The footman’s voice broke through Gerard’s reverie. He turned as the man approached him. ‘This was delivered for you early this morning, sir.’

  ‘For me?’ Gerard stared at the parcel wrapped in strong brown paper and tied with string. ‘Was there a card? Do you know who delivered it?’

  ‘It was a gentleman’s man, sir. I do not know his name, but he said his gentleman had bid him deliver this to you here.’

  ‘I see…thank you.’ Gerard frowned as he took the parcel. He had left gifts at the homes of some friends in London; however, he had told no one but Toby Sinclair that he was coming here for Christmas. The gift might have come from one of the other guests, but it was more normal to exchange them after dinner on Christmas Eve. He shook the parcel gently and discovered that it rattled. Intrigued, he took it into a small parlour to the right of the hall and untied the strings, folding back the paper.

  There was no card, but inside the paper was a wooden box. He lifted the lid and stared at the contents. At first he thought that the doll must be a present for Lisa. However, the head was lying at an odd angle, and, as he lifted it out, he saw that the porcelainhead had been wrenched from the stuffed body. It was broken across the face and the body had been slit down the middle with a knife or something similar.

  Gerard fel
t cold all over. There was something disturbing about the wanton destruction to what had been a pretty fashion doll, the kind that was often used to show off the wares of expensive couturiers rather than a child’s toy.

  It could hardly have been broken accidentally. No, this had been done deliberately. He could not imagine who had sent such a thing to him or why. However, he felt that the broken doll was a symbol of something—a threat. The implication was sinister for it must be a warning, though he could not think what he was being warned about or why it had been sent to him at such a time.

  Gerard realised that he must have an enemy. His first thought was that he had only one enemy of any note that he knew of and that was the Marquis of Northaven. Northaven had been bitter because Gerard, along with Harry and Max, had ostracised him after that débâcle in Spain, blaming him for the fact that the French troop had been expecting an attack. Northaven had engineered a duel with Harry, which had almost ended in tragedy, but since then none of them had heard much from him. It was as if he had dropped out of sight.

  Somehow, it seemed unlikely that the doll had come from Northaven. The man had always denied betraying his friends to the Spanish; he had been prepared to fight any of them in a duel to clear his name—but this doll was something very different. It was meant to disturb, to sow confusion and anxiety—though its message was obscure. Was the sender threatening his daughter?

  Gerard felt sick inside as he pictured his daughter being mutilated as the doll had been. Surely the sender could not be threatening Lisa? She was an innocent child who had harmed no one. Besides, what had he done that would cause anyone to hate him to this extent?

  ‘Gerard…’ Harry entered the room behind him. ‘I thought I saw you come in here.’

  ‘Yes. I wanted to open this…’ Gerard held the box out to him. ‘One of your footmen gave it to me a moment ago. Apparently, it was delivered earlier this morning.’

  Harry looked at the doll, his eyes narrowing as he saw what had been done to it. ‘Good grief! What on earth is that about?’

  ‘I have no idea. I wish I did.’

  ‘A threat, do you think?’ Harry’s mouth was a grim white line. ‘To your daughter—or a warning?’

  ‘Perhaps both…’

  ‘There was no message?’

  ‘None that I could find.’

  Harry picked up the box and looked inside. Then he saw a small card lying in the discarded paper and string and held it out to Gerard.

  ‘If you value her, stay away from her. This is your one and only warning and sent in good faith. Ignore it and the one you love may end like this.’ Gerard frowned as he read the words aloud. ‘What can that mean—how can I stay away from my own daughter?’

  ‘Are you sure the doll is meant to represent your daughter?’ Harry asked. ‘Only a few of us even know she exists, Gerard. Perhaps the person who sent this does not know you have a child.’

  Gerard stared at him and then nodded. ‘You are right. Only a handful of my friends know about Lisa. So if the doll isn’t her…’ His gaze narrowed. ‘You don’t think—Amelia…?’

  ‘It makes more sense,’ Harry said. ‘Whoever sent this used a fashion doll, not a child’s toy. Amelia is an extremely elegant woman and it is more likely that the doll represents her. We suspect an attempt to kidnap her was made that summer at Pendleton. Max had an idea that the reason no further attempts were made to kidnap her was because you were no longer around.’

  ‘Yes, he mentioned something of the kind some months ago, but I did not think it possible. Good grief!’ Gerard was horrified. ‘You think they tried to abduct Amelia because they thoughtI might be about to ask her to marry me—and then I returned to France. Nothing happened while I was away, but now I am back…’

  ‘And you receive this warning.’ Harry looked concerned. ‘If that is the case, Amelia could be in grave danger.’

  Gerard frowned. ‘She told me this morning that Miss Barton had asked her if her brother would benefit from her death. Apparently, he has been demanding that she hand over most of the fortune her greataunt left her.’

  ‘Is Royston such a brute?’ Harry pondered the question. ‘I do not know him well, but I would not have thought it. He might bully her into giving him money, but murder?’

  ‘Northaven?’

  ‘I am not sure that the murder of a woman is his style. He would be more likely to force a duel on you if he wished to pursue a quarrel.’

  ‘My thoughts entirely. It must be Royston—I can think of no one else who would be affected if she were to marry me.’

  ‘You cannot think of anyone who has cause to hate you?’

  ‘None that I know of,’ Gerard replied, but looked thoughtful. ‘Everyone makes enemies, but I cannot think of anyone who would wish to harm me or mine. Royston does not like me. He had me beaten when I asked for Amelia’s hand as a young man—but surely he has not harboured a grudge all this time? Besides, why harm his sister? If his quarrel is with me, why not have me shot? There are assassins enough to put a ball between my shoulders on a dark street.’

  ‘Royston had you beaten when you asked for Amelia?’ Harry’s brows shot up as Gerard nodded. ‘The scar at your temple! I knew something had happened but you never spoke of it…You have never sought retribution?’

  ‘How could I? Whatever happened, Royston is Amelia’s brother. I love her, Harry. I would do nothing to harm her. He has no reason to hate me that I know of—I swear it.’

  ‘Then this threat must have been made in order to gain control of her fortune,’ Harry said grimly. ‘If you marry her, he loses all chance of inheriting if she dies.’

  ‘Good grief! If I ask her to marry me, I could be signing her death warrant.’

  ‘And if you do not, she remains vulnerable,’ Harry pointed out. ‘You cannot allow this threat to alter your plans.’

  ‘I am damned whichever way I go!’ Gerard cursed. ‘I must arrange protection for her. She must be watched around the clock.’

  ‘And for yourself,’ Harry warned. ‘Do not shake your head, Gerard. You need someone to watch your back, my friend. I am not certain that we have reached the heart of this business. You need to investigate this affair immediately. I shall question my servants. Perhaps one of them may know something of the man who delivered that thing.’

  Gerard had replaced the broken doll and closed the box. ‘The footman knew nothing, but someone else may have seen the messenger who delivered this thing. Any clue would be welcome, for at the moment I have little to go on.’

  ‘You know you may call on me for assistance?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Please say nothing of this to your wife or Amelia for the moment. I do not wish to throw a cloud over the celebrations this Christmas. Besides, I believe Amelia must be safe enough here for we are aware of the danger…’ He frowned. ‘Does it not strike you as odd that I was warned? If the rogue wants Amelia dead—why warn me of the possibility?’

  ‘Perhaps he simply wants to prevent you speaking to her?’

  ‘Perhaps…’ Gerard looked thoughtful. ‘Or someone else sent it to alert me to danger. Something puzzles me, Harry. I think there is more to this than we yet know, but I confess I have no idea what it may be.’

  Amelia was thoughtful as she went upstairs to change. Speaking to Gerard confidentially had made her think about her situation. It was hard to think that her brother could mean her harm, but she could not deny that he had several times spoken to her in a manner that might be thought threatening.

  Perhaps it would be sensible to take some precautions, though she would hate to think her life might be in danger. Of course, if she were married, her brother would have no hope of her fortune—which might be why he had several times made it plain that he would never agree to her marrying Gerard. She was her own mistress, of course. Michael must know that he could not stop her marrying whomsoever she wished.

  Amelia looked out of her bedchamber and watched her companion walking towards the house. Emily Barton’s head was dow
n and her manner one of thoughtfulness. She was quite alone.

  Emily had a gentle beauty with her dark honey-blonde hair and blue eyes that were startling in a pale face. However, because of her modest manner and way of dressing, she was often thought unremarkable until she smiled, when she could look stunning. Amelia frowned, because of late Emily had seemed quieter than usual. She was clearly brooding.

  Amelia suspected she knew what was troubling her. Emily had been scrupulous in confessing her shame when she applied for the position as Amelia’s companion.

  ‘I must tell you that I have a secret, Miss Royston.’ Emily had looked at her steadily. ‘Only my parents and a few servants knew, for my father did his best to hide my shame.’

  ‘Your shame—are you telling me that you have borne a child out of wedlock?’ Amelia had sensed it instinctively.

  ‘I…was forced,’ Emily told her, cheeks pale, eyes dark with remembered horror. ‘He was not my lover—but he held me down as he raped me, and, later, I knew that I would bear his child.’

  ‘My dear,’ Amelia cried. ‘It is shocking that men can be so vile. Please tell me what happened then.’

  ‘My father never believed that it was not my fault, but I swear to you that I am innocent of duplicity in this.’ Emily’s eyes brimmed with tears, though she did not weep. ‘If this makes me unacceptable as your companion…’

  ‘No, do not think it.’ Amelia smiled at her. ‘What you have told me makes me more determined to give you a home. You will live with me, meet my friends and learn to be happy again, my dear.’

  ‘You are so very kind…’

  ‘I know what it is to have a broken heart, Emily.’ She shook her head as the young woman raised her brows. ‘Put your shame behind you, my dear. I absolve you of blame.’

  If only Emily had been able to put her shame and unhappiness behind her! Amelia knew that she still had days when she was deeply unhappy.