“Of course not.”
She clapped her hands in delight. “Then, you’ll do it?”
“I’m still not convinced I’ll be needed. And will Mr. Stoke-Whitney approve?”
“Approve that Frances, Countess of Harleigh, is willing to sponsor his daughter? Arthur will be beside himself with glee. He may even see Harriet in a new light. And I promise I will call on you for this favor only if I’m still in exile come March.”
“Then, yes, I shall help Harriet. Though I don’t believe you’ll be in exile, as you call it, for that long. He will need you sooner rather than later.”
“I do hope you’re right. And you’ve given me another idea. I’m to remain in town until after our reception for the Romanovs this week. Perhaps, if I’m on my very best behavior and help him with that miserable speech he’s presenting in the meantime, I can convince him to change his mind and not send me away.”
“Is he speaking in the House?”
“No. This is a speech for some ladies’ society hard at work for the preservation of morality in politics. I don’t know what they call themselves—something, something, public corruption.” She waved a hand. “They supported Arthur in the last election.”
I could only imagine what sort of help Alicia might provide for this speech. “Perhaps you could just remind him how awkward Constance would be around the Russians and the Prince and Princess of Wales.”
Her eyes locked on mine. “Very good. I’ll remember that.” She picked up her gloves from the table and came to her feet. “I must thank you, my dear. You’ve given me a reason to hope again.”
I rang for Mrs. Thompson and walked Alicia out to the entry hall, where we waited for my housekeeper to bring her coat.
“I neglected to compliment you on your beautiful engagement ring.” Alicia eyed my ring while she pulled on her gloves. “Hazelton has splendid taste in jewelry.” She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “I haven’t seen him out in society lately. How is he faring?”
“He couldn’t be better or happier, so don’t get any ideas.” I opened the door and signaled to her carriage driver.
Alicia smirked. “As if I would. Anyone can see you two are a love match.” She tossed her head, then peered through the doorway and pointed out to the street. “Haven’t I seen that man before?”
“Probably just our neighbor’s butler. We call him the gossip of Chester Street. He spends far too much time watching the comings and goings of each of us.”
“This man’s no butler.” She tipped her head. “Isn’t he the policeman who helped me with my stolen bracelet last spring?”
I stepped around the door and peered out just as Mrs. Thompson arrived with Alicia’s coat. Inspector Delaney was indeed outside, and he had a young woman with him. He had just walked from George’s door to the pavement and appeared to be at a loss, looking up and down the street.
As Alicia had donned her outerwear, I stepped outside with her. Delaney must have been looking for George, who was currently at his club.
We strolled toward the pavement while Alicia’s driver pulled the carriage around the corner and up to the house, drawing Delaney’s attention. When he caught sight of me, his face took on a horrified expression. He took a step backward, but the young woman approached us eagerly. Delaney reluctantly followed.
“Good afternoon, Inspector,” I said. “Are you here to call on Mr. Hazelton?”
He pulled off his hat, revealing the gray and brown bramble that was his hair. “We were, indeed, Lady Harleigh. Sadly, he’s not available.”
Delaney’s companion stood with a fist on her hip, eyeing me with an insolent gaze. “Do you know Hazelton?” Her French accent came as a surprise.
“Of course. I am his neighbor.”
“And his fiancée,” Alicia added.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Are you indeed? Imagine that.” She turned to Delaney. “Did you know this?”
Delaney pressed two fingers to his temple.
Such impertinence. “And may one ask who you are, miss?”
“Mrs.” Her lips tipped up to one side. “I am Mrs. George Hazelton.”
I blinked. What had she just said?
Behind me, Alicia drew in a breath. “My, my,” she said, leaning close to my ear. “And I thought I had problems.”
Chapter Two
Somehow, with Delaney directing our small procession, we made it into my house. Tantalized by the scent of scandal, Alicia tried to linger, but he set her firmly in her carriage and waved the driver on his way. When the carriage moved, I spotted Jackson, the nosy butler from across the street, taking in all the activity with raised brows and a pinched expression. Lovely. Now we were presenting a spectacle for my neighbors. I took the little baggage by the arm and preceded Delaney into the house.
The next thing I knew, I was handing a note to Mrs. Thompson, to be delivered next door, urging George to call on me immediately upon his arrival at home, to settle a delicate matter.
Mrs. Thompson took the note from my shaking hand and, with a cautious glance at the others, retreated from the drawing room. By this time, the shock had worn off, leaving me a bit disoriented and positively enraged. How dare she claim to be married to George? My George! What manner of game was she playing?
I took a calming breath before turning to my “delicate matter,” who had made herself far too comfortable in one of my chintz-covered chairs. She presented a sensual and exotic sight. Her few hairpins did little to contain the masses of dark waves that tumbled past her shoulders. They framed a pale oval face with dark eyes and brows that slashed upward. She’d removed her coat to reveal a gauzy tea gown, the likes of which should never have left the privacy of her own drawing room. Yet she and her gown were draped over a chair in mine. I disliked her from pure instinct.
“Where is my husband?” Again, I was taken aback by the French accent in her husky voice. I glanced at Delaney who had taken the matching chair beside her. His head tipped down, he made a show of reviewing his notes, giving me a view of only his wiry salt-and-pepper hair and his rumpled brown suit.
I turned back to the woman. “If you’re referring to Mr. Hazelton, I’ve sent him a message. He’ll come here as soon as he arrives home. In the meantime, perhaps you’d care to tell me what your business is with him? I don’t for a moment believe you’re his wife.”
“Perhaps you don’t know the man as well as you think.”
“I beg to differ. I know him better than anyone. We are betrothed.”
She gave me a Gallic shrug. “That may present a problem. I don’t think British law allows for more than one spouse at a time.”
As we spoke, I’d moved closer, until I was fairly towering over her. Delaney must have thought I posed a threat, for he took to his feet and directed me to the chair on the opposite side of the table before resuming his own seat
“Who is she, Delaney? And wherever did you find her?”
“Why don’t I begin with telling you what I know and why I brought the lady here?” he said.
I gave him a grudging nod, and the woman waved a hand, as if she really didn’t care what either of us did.
“I was at my precinct when a constable brought her in.” Delaney glanced at the little notebook he always carried. “She’d been apprehended outside of Marlborough House. It appeared she’d attempted to attack Grand Duke Michael Mikhailovich.”
I don’t know what I’d expected to hear, but it certainly wasn’t this. “You attacked the grand duke?”
“Whoever said that has made far too much of the matter. I merely wished to speak with him.” She tossed her head. “He would not listen. He could not be bothered.”
“Is there some reason he should bother himself to speak with you?” I asked.
“He is my cousin.”
I huffed. “I see. Hazelton is your husband, and the grand duke is your cousin.” Egad, the woman was delusional. “I suppose you’re related to the queen, as well?”
Her expression grew thoughtfu
l. “Why, yes, though it’s a distant connection. I’m pleased I can credit you with more intelligence than the policeman who arrested me. At least you understand a simple statement.”
I gaped at Delaney, who looked as flustered as I. “There’s nothing about your relationship to the grand duke in the report,” he said.
“I suspect the constable didn’t believe me.”
“That’s understandable. Your identity papers are French. They state your name as Irena Teskey, aged twenty-four.” He glanced up from his notes to the young woman and raised a brow. “Don’t know much about Russia and the royal family, but I believe their surname is Romanov. Teskey isn’t Romanov.”
“Neither is it Hazelton,” I said, feeling a little better by this point. Both Delaney and I leaned in toward her. Let’s see her talk her way out of this lie.
“Teskey is a name I use for professional reasons. Like a writer has a nom de plume.”
“You’re a writer?” I asked. That could explain her vivid imagination.
She placed a hand to her throat and threw her head back. “I am an actress.” With a glance at our blank expressions, she dropped the pose and sighed with impatience. “And I own a theater here in London.”
Delaney and I stared in mute astonishment.
I recovered first. “Let me see if I understand. You are a French actress who is cousin to a grand duke of Russia and wife to the very British Mr. Hazelton. Oh, and you also own a theater here in London. Does that sound right?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Now you sound as if you don’t believe me.”
“At least there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”
“How dare you? You, who are clearly an American, claim to be a British countess, and I don’t doubt your honesty. You also claim to be betrothed to a man I know to be my husband, and I don’t cast aspersions on your integrity.”
“Because I am telling the truth.”
“As am I!”
“Ladies!” Delaney came to his feet. “Please. I ask you to keep this discussion civil.”
Miss Teskey and I settled back in our seats, hostility fairly sizzling between us.
He gave each of us a warning look, then consulted his notes once more. “Miss Teskey, you say you arrived in London three weeks ago. Why did you not seek out Mr. Hazelton at that time?”
“It never occurred to me. I came here for business—to open the theater with my new partner. We’ve been very busy hiring actors, advertising, staging the play itself.” She raised her hands. “It is all a great deal of work. Our opening night was just two days ago. Since I planned to make London my home, there was plenty of time to contact Hazelton once everything settled down. Besides, I wasn’t sure where he lived.”
“Indeed? Just how did you happen to lose track of him?”
Delaney groaned. “Lady Harleigh, I beg you.”
I understood Delaney’s frustration, but this charade had gone on long enough. “How on earth did you even meet Hazelton? And how did you come to be married? And if you were husband and wife, why did you separate? For goodness’ sake, you live in two different countries, with a body of water between you.”
“You are not entitled to know everything about me, Lady Harleigh, but suffice it to say, Hazelton came to my rescue a few years ago, when I had been abducted by some horrible men.”
I hadn’t thought there was anything she could say to make her story more ridiculous. I was wrong. “Abducted?”
“By some horrible men?” Delaney’s expression showed the same incredulity I felt.
“Yes.” She sighed. “It’s not something I care to elaborate upon.”
I groaned. “Yet I have a sense you are about to do just that.”
“It was a most heinous experience.” She rose slowly to her feet, her gaze fixed on something off in the distance. “I had just arrived in Paris and was strolling in a park, rehearsing some lines for a play in which I hoped to obtain a role. In the blink of an eye, a man slipped from the woods and whisked me up in his arms as if I were no more than an armful of flowers.” The tiny sprite made a show of looking me up and down, as if gauging my weight. “He carried me to a waiting carriage and spirited me away. We drove for hours, until I had no knowledge of my surroundings.”
She returned her attention to us, her audience of two. “I don’t know how Hazelton ever found me.”
“Or why he bothered.” I returned her snarl with a sweet smile.
She frowned in concentration, creating a small furrow between her brows. “I believe my father sent him—or perhaps it was Edward, the Prince of Wales.”
And now the heir to the British throne had been dragged into her story.
“Whoever sent him, he was my savior. He rescued me and returned me to the little village near Trouville, where I used to live with the Teskeys.”
Delaney’s gaze sharpened. “Teskey? Is that your family?”
She gave a little shake of her head and sank back into her chair. “They are the people who raised me. Hazelton must have sensed I needed loved ones nearby. He’s so considerate in that way. However, the distance of the trip meant we were forced to spend a night on the road. We came to know each other very well.” At this, she cast a little sneer my way.
“Of course, he did the honorable thing and married me. It was at a charming chapel in our little village. So romantic.” She snuck a glance at me from under her lashes and caught me gnashing my teeth. “But love does not solve all problems, does it? He had to return to his duties here in London. For some time, I waited patiently, but then the stage beckoned, and I returned to Paris. Not long ago, I heard Mr. Gilliam was seeking partners in his theater venture. We met, discussed terms, and, voilà, here I am, right next door to my husband. Is that not the very essence of romance, Countess?”
“Just like a fairy tale.” I struggled to keep the words as light as possible, but even I could feel the chill in my tone. “And it’s just as unbelievable.”
“You don’t want to believe me, or that Hazelton deceived you. I’m sorry, my dear Countess, but your fiancé happens to be my husband.”
“Your story doesn’t even make sense. Why would Hazelton have been sent to your rescue?”
She narrowed one eye. “I couldn’t say with any certainty, but doesn’t he do something for your government?”
I only just managed to restrain a gasp as a chill overtook me. She’d bumped right up against the truth with that comment. He did do “something for the government.” Another truth she’d spoken was that I didn’t want to believe her story. That would mean George had deceived me. But I couldn’t believe it of him. He would never have asked me to marry him if he wasn’t free. I hated to admit it, but much of my anger at Miss Teskey had arisen from fear—that she was telling the truth.
Upon the heels of that acknowledgment, the drawing room door opened, and Hetty popped her head inside.
“Ah, there you are, Frances. Look who I found in the back garden.” She pushed the door open to reveal George beside her. Dressed impeccably in a dark blue morning coat and tie, he looked every bit the dashing man about town. But the smile he gave me brought to mind the charmer, the silly boy, the unassuming yet sometimes dangerous man I also knew him to be. Indeed, the man I might be about to lose.
Hetty pulled up short. “Inspector Delaney. A pleasure to see you here, but a surprise, nonetheless. Is there some trouble afoot?” She chuckled.
Delaney made a shallow bow. “Good day, Mrs. Chesney. Just a small matter we wished to consult with Mr. Hazelton about.”
Miss Teskey brightened at the sound of Hazelton’s name. Her back was to the door, and the chair kept her hidden from their view. Before she could rise, I came shakily to my feet.
“We have another guest,” I said, sweeping a hand toward Miss Teskey.
I held my breath and watched George’s face as she stood and turned toward him.
Everyone seemed to freeze for the space of a breath. Hetty frowned as she perceived the tension. “Won’t you introduce us
, Frances?”
But I could see no introduction would be necessary for George. Recognition, shock, and confusion played across his expression.
“Hazelton,” Miss Teskey said, “you are here at last.”
“Irena?”
Fearing my legs would fail me, I sank back into the chair. If there were ever a time I could wish to be a woman who fainted, it would be now—anything to take me out of this moment.
Chapter Three
Panic tightened my throat and froze me in place as their reunion played out in front of me. Miss Teskey slipped around the chair and threw herself at George. Easily a head taller than the young woman, he caught her at arm’s length and kept her there, his face still revealing nothing but astonishment.
“What is wrong?” She took a step back and dropped her hands to her hips. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”
“Surprised might be a better word.” His wary gaze fell on Delaney, then me, as if he was asking for some explanation. When neither of us produced one, he returned his attention to Miss Teskey. “Tell me what the devil you’re doing here, and I’ll let you know if I’m pleased or not.”
Hetty eyed the woman with suspicion. “Has she something to do with the small matter you mentioned, Inspector?”
Delaney shifted his weight, cleared his throat, then pulled his notebook from his pocket and flipped through the pages. “Miss Teskey landed herself in a spot of trouble at Marlborough House this morning.”
“I simply wished to speak to my cousin.” She lowered her head and looked up at George like an innocent lamb.
He frowned. “Your cousin? Ah, that’s right. The grand duke and the countess are visiting.”
Thank goodness I was seated, or I might have fallen over. The grand duke truly was her cousin?
“I didn’t realize they were staying at Marlborough House,” he said. What sort of trouble did you cause?”
Miss Teskey waved her hand. “It was nothing. Do not concern yourself.”
A Fiancée's Guide to First Wives and Murder Page 2
