The Mistress of Hanover Square

by Anne Herries

  ‘Yes, I dare say the care of a motherless child is as good a reason for marriage as any.’

  ‘It is certainly one reason,’ Amelia said. ‘Lisa is a delightful child and Gerard did need someone to help with the care of her, but we are good friends.’

  ‘Friendship is more than most find in marriage. Men are always so faithless…though I do not imply that the earl will be faithless to you, Amelia. After all, you will bring him a fortune when you marry.’

  ‘Yes, that is true. I expect to be very happy in my marriage. You should not think that all men are faithless, Marguerite, though I know you think of Lucinda.’

  ‘Lucinda was foolish to trust the man who betrayed her.’

  ‘Perhaps she loved him and did not think further.’

  ‘Perhaps. Can you love the child of another woman?’ Marguerite’s eyes were watchful. ‘Will you not think of her, of his wife…?’ She shook her head. ‘Forgive me. I should not have spoken to you so, Amelia. It was not my place.’

  ‘Emily knows that she may say anything to me—-and so may you, Marguerite. If something is on your mind?’

  ‘No.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I just wondered if the shadow of…the manner of his wife’s death might hang over you.’

  ‘I am sorry for the way she died,’ Amelia replied, glancing at Lisa, who was happily absorbed in the book. She wondered how Marguerite knew of Lisette’s suicide, because not even Emily knew more than that Gerard’s wife had died in Spain. ‘It is sad when someone dies tragically but I know that Gerard did all he could for her.’

  Marguerite looked as if she would speak, gave a little shake of her head and walked to where the children were still entranced by the pictures of animals and birds. She pointed to some words beneath one of the pictures.

  ‘Do you know what this says, Lisa?’

  ‘It is funny writing. I cannot read it.’

  ‘That is because it is in Latin. It says that the picture is of a parrot…’

  Amelia watched for a moment as Marguerite continued to explain what the words meant. She thought that she had chosen well, for Marguerite was obviously good with children. She was surprised that Marguerite should have mentioned Gerard’s first wife. It almost seemed that she knew exactly how Lisette had died, and yet Amelia was sure he had not spoken of it to many people. How could a woman he had never met know anything about Lisette’s suicide?

  Amelia was thoughtful as she went downstairs, but then she realised that Marguerite had not actually said anything directly about the suicide. She must, of course, have imagined that Lisette had died from the fever she’d caught after her child was born. So many women died that way that it would be easy to assume it was so. Satisfied that she had misunderstood, Amelia dismissed Marguerite’s words. The look in her eyes was harder to dismiss, for it had seemed to carry a warning.

  Amelia dressed that evening in a ball gown of blue satin overlaid with swathes of silver lace. It had a deep scooped neckline that revealed a tantalising glimpse of her soft breasts, and little puffed sleeves. Around her neck she had fastened a collar of lustrous pearls with a diamond clasp that had a large baroque pearl as a drop. On her wrists she wore gold-and-pearl bangles and she had a magnificent sapphire-and-diamond ring on her left hand. Gerard had given it to her after tea that afternoon, slipping it on her finger himself.

  ‘It fits. I am relieved,’ he told her, lifting her hand to kiss the palm. ‘I hope you like it, my love. It was commissioned for us. In time I shall send for the family jewels and you may take your pick of them, though I know you have jewels enough of your own.’

  ‘Most of Aunt’s jewellery was not to my taste and remains in the bank. She was extremely fond of amethysts, but I prefer pearls—and of course sapphires and diamonds.’ She looked at the deep blue of the sapphire oval ring surrounded by fine white diamonds. ‘This is lovely, Gerard—perfect. Thank you.’

  ‘I am glad you are pleased.’ He reached out to touch her cheek. ‘I care for you so very much.’

  Amelia admired her beautiful ring as she went down to the ballroom. It was a long gallery that normally housed musical instruments and several sofas as well as music stands. This evening it had been cleared of furniture and the rooms connecting on either side had their double doors thrown wide so that the effect was of one very large room.

  In the first room, Lord and Lady Coleridge stood waiting to receive their guests and footmen were circulating with trays bearing glasses of the best champagne. Amelia accepted a glass and went to stand with Helene. She was one of the first to appear, but she could already hear the strains of music coming from the gallery.

  ‘May I see your ring?’ Helene asked and exclaimed over it. ‘How lovely, Amelia. Three stones is a shape that suits your hands very well—and I believe you already have a small sapphire-and-diamond cluster that was your mama’s?’

  ‘Yes, I do, though the shank is wearing a little thin and I did not bring it with me—for I must have it repaired.’

  ‘That sapphire is such a deep colour,’ Helene said. ‘I am so happy for you, Amelia. If it had not been for you, I should never have met and married Max. I wanted you to be happy too, and now you are.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Amelia said and kissed her. She moved away as Emily and Marguerite entered the room, wandering into the far room where flowers from a hot house had been arranged. There were some exotic blooms and the perfume was quite heavy, making her want to sneeze.

  ‘Are you all right, Amelia?’

  Amelia heard the voice and turned as Marguerite came up to her.

  ‘Yes, perfectly, thank you. I was feeling a little nauseous for a moment, but I think it may have been these flowers—they have a strong smell, not unpleasant but a little overpowering.’

  ‘You looked pale,’ Marguerite said. ‘Are you sure you feel quite well?’

  ‘I shall be perfectly well, but I must not linger near these flowers; they are giving me a headache.’

  ‘Why do you not go out for a breath of air?’

  ‘It is too cold. Besides, I am looking forward to the ball. Excuse me.’ Amelia saw Gerard coming and walked to greet him. She smiled and held out her hands to him. ‘You look very handsome tonight, sir.’

  ‘And you look beautiful, Miss Royston.’ Gerard’s eyes went over her hungrily. ‘I see some people are beginning to dance—shall we?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Amelia took his hand. ‘I have been longing to dance with you again.’

  The slight feeling of nausea she had experienced earlier vanished as he took her into his arms. The dancing had begun with a waltz and Amelia felt that she was floating on air as he whirled her along the gallery and back. She felt such sweet sensation, like being carried on a wave of sparkling sea to the stars, lost to everything, but the touch of his hand against her back and the faint masculine scent of him in her nostrils. She wanted to go on and on for ever.

  Too soon the dance ended and almost immediately the guests came up to them to congratulate Gerard and wish Amelia happiness. Everyone wanted to know when the wedding would be and all their best friends demanded to be invited, which Amelia assured them would be the case.

  A few of her friends told her that they had gifts for her, but the engagement was a surprise to most and they exclaimed over it again and again. Some of their closest friends teased Gerard and said that he had stolen a march on them and she was swept away to dance with several of the gentlemen. It was some time before they danced together again, but she noticed that Gerard danced once with Emily, Marguerite and Helene.

  ‘I am glad to see you have been dancing,’ she told him when they danced the final waltz before supper. ‘It was good of you to ask Marguerite.’

  ‘I asked Miss Barton because she was looking sad and had hardly danced at all,’ Gerard told her. ‘I could not avoid asking Miss Ross because it would have seemed rude. She said that she had remembered me and reminded me of the night we met. Apparently, we danced twice that evening and I fetched her some champagne.’


  ‘Did she remember so clearly?’ Amelia frowned. She would have liked to ask Gerard if there was any way that Marguerite could have known that Lisette had taken her own life, but the evening of their engagement was not the moment. ‘She has not spoken to me of knowing you—though you told me you knew her sister, Lucinda, better.’

  ‘Lucinda was an odd girl…’

  Amelia saw his expression. Something in his look made her spine prickle. ‘What do you mean? I always thought her a sweet and gentle girl.’

  ‘Did you, my love?’ Gerard’s forehead creased. ‘I thought something different, but keep your memories, Amelia. I hardly knew her after all.’

  Amelia was intrigued, vaguely disturbed. He was hiding something from her. She sensed a mystery, but again this was not the time to inquire further. A niggling doubt teased at the back of her mind, but she dismissed it almost at once. Earlier, Marguerite had almost seemed to imply that Gerard was marrying her for her fortune and that he would be faithless once they were married. Did she know something that Amelia did not? She felt cold for a moment and shivered, then squashed the unworthy doubts.

  She raised her head and smiled. Nothing should be allowed to spoil her special evening.

  ‘Are you happy, Gerard?’

  His gaze seared her. ‘Can you doubt it? I cannot wait until we are at Raven shead…to be alone with you…’

  Amelia felt reassured. He felt something more than friendship for her. She would be a fool to doubt it, to let her thoughts be poisoned by a casual remark.

  Turning her head at that moment, she suddenly saw Marguerite looking at them. The look on her face was so strange that it sent a shiver down Amelia’s spine. Marguerite looked…angry…resentful.

  Why should she look as if she hated to see others happy? Amelia had an uneasy feeling that something was very wrong, and yet a moment later, as Marguerite saw her glance she smiled and the shadows were banished from her face.

  Amelia decided that she had been mistaken. Marguerite’s expression must have been wistful, not resentful. She was thinking of all the dances and happy times she had missed. After all, why should she resent the people who had given her this chance to enjoy herself? Of course she would not. She had several times expressed her gratitude. It would be foolish to imagine resentment where there was none.

  Chapter Seven

  Emily came to Amelia as she was standing by the buffet looking at a bewildering array of dishes. Her complexion was pale and there were shadows beneath her eyes.

  ‘Are you not feeling well?’ Amelia asked in concern.

  ‘I have a headache,’ Emily confessed. ‘Would you mind if I left after supper and went to bed? Is there anything I can do for you before I retire?’

  ‘I have all I want. Are you truly ill, my love—or is it because…?’

  ‘I truly have a throbbing headache. I do not know why, for I scarcely ever have them, Amelia. I think it must be something to do with the soap that them aids used for laundering my kerchiefs. I came to ask if I might borrow one of yours this morning, because mine all had a strong perfume clinging to them, which seemed to bring on my headache. The pain has been lingering all day and is worse this evening.’

  ‘I am so sorry. Yes, of course you must go to bed, Emily. If you are still unwell in the morning, I shall have the doctor to you—and I will have Martha launder your kerchiefs with the soap she uses for mine.’

  ‘Thank you…’ Emily hesitated. ‘I did not touch your letters this morning, Amelia. I just went into your room, saw you were not there and then left—you do believe me?’

  ‘Of course. Why should I not? You have always been honest with me.’

  ‘Someone suggested to me that I had taken the letters and lied to you.’

  ‘Someone…’ Amelia’s gaze narrowed. ‘Do you mean Marguerite?’

  ‘I do not wish to say—but I should be distressed if I thought you believed I would lie to you.’

  ‘Well, you may rest easy, Emily. I know you too well to ever think you would lie to me.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Emily’s eyes carried the sheen of tears. ‘I thought…but I shall for get it. My foolish head hurts so. Excuse me, I must go. Goodnight, Amelia.’

  ‘Goodnight, my love. Ask Martha for a tisane if you wish. I hope you feel better soon.’

  Amelia frowned as she watched Emily leave the supper room. She was sorry that her friend was feeling unwell for she had enough to bear. The scent clinging to her kerchiefs was odd, for Amelia had experienced a similar thing in the room where all the exotic flowers had been displayed; overpowering perfumes could bring on headaches, especially if one were in close contact through a piece of personal lingerie.

  She would ask Martha to wash all of Emily’s things as well as Amelia’s for the next few days. Helene’s maids must be using something that was quite unsuitable.

  Amelia was thoughtful as she ate a little supper. She had hoped that Emily might have something to celebrate this evening, but Toby Sinclair had not been able to tear himself away from his family at this sad time. She supposed that he could not decently attend a ball so close to his father’s funeral. He was perfectly correct not to come. Perhaps he would write to Emily—or seek her out when they went down to Ravenshead in two days’ time. She put her thoughts to one side as Marguerite came to sit with her and eat a syllabub.

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Marguerite?’

  ‘How could I not when everyone has been so kind?’ Marguerite’s mouth curved in a smile. ‘Is Emily unwell? She told me she was going to bed…’

  ‘She has a little headache. I dare say it will pass by the morning.’

  ‘She was pale. I would have made her an infusion to help her had she mentioned her headache.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say she will ask Martha. It is a pity that it should come this evening, for Emily seldom has headaches.’

  ‘Perhaps she has been feeling out of sorts. Someone mentioned that she had suffered a disappointment recently. Heartache sometimes manifests itself as illness, do you not agree?’

  ‘You should not listen to gossip,’ Amelia said. ‘Besides, I am sure Emily will be better soon.’

  Gerard watched the woman from across the room. Why did he have the feeling that she was not all that she appeared? Her smiles made him uneasy—for she seemed to be saying that she knew something he did not. He was pleased when he saw her leave the room. He wished it was as easy to send her packing altogether, but knew that Amelia trusted her, was fond of her. To voice his suspicions would only bring a cloud to their time of happiness—and perhaps he was wrong.

  For the moment all he could do was to watch and wait. He turned as Max joined him, understanding that there was something he needed to tell him.

  ‘A few moments of your time, Gerard—in private?’

  ‘Of course,’ Gerard agreed. ‘I am promised to Amelia for the next dance, but she is otherwise occupied for the moment.’ His eyebrows arched. ‘You have discovered something?’

  ‘Yes. It means nothing and yet it might…’ Max said. ‘One of my footmen was up with a toothache early this morning and he saw something that might interest you.’

  Amelia saw Gerard leave the supper room with Max. She frowned, because she had wanted a few moments alone with him. However, on further reflection she decided that what she had to say would keep for another day. She turned as Helene came up to her.

  ‘Emily was looking pale earlier,’ Helene observed. ‘Has she by chance taken a chill?’

  ‘She says that the perfumed soap your maids used for washing her kerchiefs gave her a headache. I shall ask Martha to use my soap for her in future since it seems that she is sensitive to strong perfumes, as I am myself.’

  ‘I was not aware we were using strongly perfumed soap.’ Helene looked puzzled. ‘I shall ask my housekeeper and it shall be changed, Amelia. Some of the lilies used this evening had a very strong scent. I had one pot taken out this morning because it was overpowering.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed the lilies,’
Amelia said. ‘I should have developed a headache had I stayed near them for long.’

  ‘I shall not use that particular variety in the house again,’ Helene said. ‘I am sorry Emily was made unwell. I had thought it might be something else.’

  ‘You mean because Toby Sinclair did not come this evening?’

  ‘No…’ Helene hesitated, looking slightly conscious. ‘Forgive me, Amelia—but I am not sure that Emily likes Miss Ross. I think they may have had words…but I may be mistaken.’

  ‘Emily is always so thoughtful,’ Amelia said. ‘I cannot think she would take a girl like Marguerite, who has suffered much at the hands of her parents, as she did herself, in dislike. They hardly know one another, after all.’

  ‘As I said, I may be mistaken—’ Helene broke off as Marguerite came up to them. ‘Miss Ross—have you enjoyed yourself this evening?’

  ‘Thank you. It has been a lovely evening. Amelia was so kind as to give me this dress…’ Marguerite held out the skirt of the green gown. ‘It is beautiful.’

  ‘It becomes you well,’ Helene said. ‘I have seen you dancing several times. I think you have made friends and admirers, Miss Ross.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Marguerite said, but did not smile. ‘I passed Emily as I went to my room just now, Amelia. I believe she had been to yours. She said that she has a terrible headache. I offered to make her a tisane myself, but she refused me.’

  ‘Emily had no doubt been in search of Martha to ask her to make her a tisane, as I advised,’ Amelia said. ‘Ah, here comes Gerard—I am promised to him for the next dance.’

  Amelia said goodnight to Gerard. He had escorted her to her door, seeming reluctant to let her go inside. He kissed the palm of her hand, closing her fingers over the kiss.

  ‘Keep that until we can be alone,’ he said. ‘Sleep well, my dearest. I trust that nothing will disturb your sleep this evening.’

  ‘I dare say it will not. Martha has instructions to lock the dressingroom door when she leaves the room. Max provided her with a key and I also have one so I do not think anyone will intrude on me again.’