Anita Mills (19 page)

“And then how’s it to look when you turn ’round and marry her?”

“I expect to be out of the country then for her protection. I daresay when we return, ’twill be found she was misdiagnosed and has made a rather remarkable recovery. No doubt being removed from the presence of your altogether hideous waistcoats will have a reviving effect on her spirits—after a decent time, of course.” Trent slid his foot forward to slip on one of his shoes. “Get the other one for me, will you? And be a useful host, Basil, and hand me my coat. I really must be off if I am to get her on a packet by nightfall.” He reached to take the shoe from the baron’s hand and eased it onto his other foot, and then stood to shrug into his perfectly cut coat. “You really ought to try Stultz, my dear fellow—he is an excellent tailor.” He eased the shirt cuffs to the edge of the coat sleeves and then turned back to Brockhaven with the faintest smile. “I regret that I am afoot and have need of one of your nags, but I shall send it back later today.” He smoothed back the unruly black locks and set his hat at an angle. “Until next we meet, Brockhaven.”

“I assure you there is no need, my lord. ’Twill all be as you ask.”

“Ah, but I intend to leave nothing to chance. You will apply immediately and I will see that you get the Prince Regent’s backing for it. Good day, Basil.”

Trent let himself out of Brockhaven’s house and made his way to the carriage house behind it. Whistling softly, he led out a horse, saddled it, and mounted. Riding around to the front, he stopped to look up at the window where she’d jumped into his arms, and he saw Brockhaven watching, white-faced. He lifted his hat in mock salute, and then, still in full evening dress, he edged the horse out into the early-morning bustle of the London streets, fully satisfied with himself.

D
RAWING BACK THE
heavy matelassé hangings, Ellen stared out at the wispy snowflakes falling from the overcast sky to the slushy, dirty Parisian street below. The weather, she sighed as she dropped the hanging, was very much like her own spirits: poor and unlikely to improve.

It had been almost seven weeks since they’d fled London, and her situation was still unresolved. Seven weeks since Trent had hastily brushed a brotherly kiss across her cheek and pushed her aboard the packet with Gerald at Dover. He had business to finish in London, he’d told her, but would follow as soon as he could. Business. She’d overheard Timms and Crawfurd marveling that Gerry’d dared to invade the Mantini’s house to get Trent that night, so she knew very well what business Alex had meant. Well, she’d chided herself often enough, why shouldn’t he entertain himself with his opera singer? Plain Ellen Marling had no real claim to him anyway. And yet, when he’d come for her at Brockhaven’s … She let her thoughts wander back to that night as she often did these days. He’d been so kind, loving almost, but then he’d sent her off. She sighed heavily again and moved to warm her hands at the fire that blazed in the marble hearth.

Behind her, Gerald set aside the English paper he’d received in the last post and murmured sympathetically, “Weather got you blue-deviled again? Tell you what, Ellie. As soon as it clears enough, we’ll bundle up and take a drive. Perhaps you would like to see if Madame Latille has an idea for the blue velvet Alex sent over—a new pelisse perhaps?”

“No.” Without turning around, she muttered under her breath, “I have enough clothes for three females now—and I have nowhere to go to wear them.”

“I like to see you in pretty things, Ellie,” he reminded her quietly, “and so does Alex.”

“Does he? Then why isn’t he here?” A sob caught in her throat and she had to swallow hard to stifle it. “Gerry, it’s been seven weeks. Count them—seven weeks!”

“He told you—he had business left in London. Ellie …” He rose and came up behind her, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. “You know that. It isn’t like he’s forgotten you, my dear, when he writes to us every week, and at Christmas he—”

“He writes to you and asks about me.”

“He sent you the amethysts for Christmas,” he persisted.

“That I cannot keep! Gerry, I am beholden enough to the both of you that I cannot repay what you have expended on me if I live to be a hundred. I-I cannot take jewelry—like—like I am some sort of fancy piece! And do not be talking to me of his business, Gerry, when I know very well what it is.”

“Ellie, Ellie, you do not know at all.”

“Gerry, I am so miserable. You do not understand,” she cried as she burst into tears.

He wrapped her in his arms and held her close. “I know you love Alex, if that’s what you mean,” he told her softly as she gave full vent to her frustration and wept into his shoulder. “You do, don’t you?”

“No! Oh, yes, but …”

“Then everything’s going to be all right, Ellie, I swear. Alex should be here soon and everything will be fine. Here …” He fumbled in his coat pocket for his handkerchief and handed it to her. “Blow your nose, my dear, and pull yourself together. You are getting one of Stultz’s finest coats all wet. Come on,” he coaxed gently, “all you need is some sunshine and Alex to lift your spirits.”

“No.” She shook her head as she took the kerchief. “What I need you will not hear of, Gerry. I need to get on with my life and quit hanging on the Deveraux sleeves for everything.”

“Best let Alex take care of you.”

“I cannot let him take care of me. ’Tis not his responsibility—can you not understand?” she cried out in frustration. Then, seeing his sympathetic expression, she relented. “I am sorry, Gerry. I am out-of-reason cross and I know it. I rip up at you for what is not your fault.” She turned away and blew her nose, sniffed, and tried to compose herself.

“Tell you what,” he offered. “Since we cannot go out, we can play cards and have ourselves a touch of that hot punch the cook makes.”

“Only if you promise not to let me win again.” She managed a contrite little smile and nodded. “I know you think you are finding a polite way to give me an allowance, do not think I do not, but no one could be as decidedly unlucky at cards as you have been these past weeks.”

“Untrue. Whether you admit it or not, my dear, you are a veritable Captain Sharp. However, I promise to do my best to win back some of my money if that will satisfy you. You shuffle and I’ll get the punch.”

She sat down and quickly mixed the cards several times. Setting them aside on the table, she picked up the paper he’d been reading and cast a desultory glance over the front page to find that the Whigs were still crying foul over the Prince Regent’s abandonment of them since his authority had been proclaimed five years before. Opening the paper, she scanned the various announcements of betrothals and the few winter events before a small article caught her eye. It was a brief note that Signora Sophia Mantini had completed her London engagements and would start a Continental tour in Paris beginning with a private party given at the British embassy for Lady Augusta Sandbridge and her niece. Her heart beat faster as she reread the short piece several times while trying to credit it. Aunt Gussie in Paris! And Amy! She had her answer to everything. If she could but get their direction, she could throw herself on her aunt’s mercy and then perhaps everything would be all right. Augusta Sandbridge was a
grande dame
of the
ton
and could smooth things over and maybe even avert a scandal. She chewed her thumbnail nervously and tried to think how she could ever explain to her Aunt Gussie about her flight from Brockhaven—or Lord Trent’s part in it—or her living with Gerald Deveraux. The story sounded sordid in the extreme, but perhaps if she could actually face her aunt, she could somehow make her understand. There was no doubt that she would be scandalized, but would her aunt turn her away?

“Are you quite all right, Ellie?” Gerald asked as he set down the pitcher of steaming punch and lit the candle-warmer underneath.

“Gerry, ’tis the answer! Aunt Gussie’s in Paris! Don’t you see …” She rose in agitated excitement and began to pace in front of him. “I can go to her and everything will be all right.”

“Who’s Aunt Gussie? Ellie, what the devil are you talking about?”

“Here.” She picked up the paper and handed it to him, pointing out the small article at the bottom of the page. “Lady Sandbridge is my aunt, and she has always had a particularity for me, Gerry. If I can but find her, I can explain it all to her. She’s the one Alex was taking me to in the very beginning. I won’t have to be a trial to you or Alex any longer, Gerry.”

He studied the announcement for a moment and then shook his head. “I’d wait for Trent if I were you, Ellie. He should be here any day.”

Reflecting that since the Mantini would be in Paris, Trent would probably come at last, Ellen shook her head. She had no wish to watch him come and go to his assignations with his mistress. “No, I am decided, Gerry. If you will not take me to my aunt’s, I shall get her direction from the embassy and find her myself.” When he made no answer, she raised her hands to plead. “Gerry, you are my dearest friend and have borne much for me, but please—oh,
please
help me find Aunt Gussie. Trent will not care, I swear, for it was what he meant to do in the first place. Gerry, please!”

“But Alex—”

“He will have my direction, Gerry. If he has anything to say on the matter, he can find me there. But she is my aunt and it would look ever so much better if I am discovered living with her.”

There was more animation in the violet eyes, more purpose in the set of her chin than he’d seen since they’d rescued her from Brockhaven that night in London. And she was right: no matter what Trent intended to do about pursuing his suit, it would probably be easier for everybody if she lived with her female relation until things were settled. He drew in a deep breath and nodded to the entreaty in her face. “All right. I suppose I can call on our ambassador and find her for you. When do you want me to do it?”

She moved to lift the heavy hanging again and looked out. “Well, do you think the streets still passable?”

“Today? Ellie, it’s snowing!”

“I know, but …”

More than half in love with her himself, he was never proof against that look she gave him. “All right,” he sighed, “I’ll go.”

“I’m going with you.”

“In this weather? You’ll catch an inflammation of the lungs, girl.”

“Nonsense,” she dismissed firmly, “I am never ill.”

“If we are to pull this off, my dear, you cannot be seen in my company and you cannot be remarked by the embassy staff.”

“I know. I mean to wait in the carriage.” She could see his hesitation and she pressed her advantage. “We can go to my aunt’s together, Gerry, so that if she will not believe me, I can come back with you.”

“You wouldn’t rather that I spoke to her first? What if she will not let you stay?”

“Then I will accept it and return with you.”

“All right. You’d best warm yourself with a cup of the punch, Ellie, for it’s deuced cold outside. And pour me one, too, while you are about it. I’ll alert Timms and let his complaints fall on my ears.”

F
ORTUNATELY, THE INTERVIEW
with Augusta Sandbridge went better than either Gerald or Ellen had expected. After the initial surprise of seeing her niece, that lady welcomed her with open arms and then, over glasses of burgundy brought out to celebrate, listened intently to the story of Ellen’s odyssey from Brockhaven’s window to Paris. Gerald, finding Ellen far too modest for her own good, had to interrupt from time to time to tell of how she had saved his brother’s life. Only one thing puzzled him: either Lady Sandbridge was a tough old Tartar or she knew far more than she let on, for she was not in the least shocked by the story.

“Well, my love,” Augusta told Ellen when she’d finished, “you did quite the right thing in coming to me. The scandal has already broken to, some extent, but—” She looked up and caught Ellen’s stricken expression and hastened to add, “No, no, not that sort of scandal, my dear. Quite the opposite, in fact, for more than one has laid blame at Sir Basil’s door.” She stopped for a moment and looked at Gerald. “That is—well, have you heard anything about what has happened?”

“Alas, we have not,” he admitted. “Alex has written often enough, but he’s said little on that head.”

“Well, then I shall leave most of it to his telling. Suffice it to say that Brockhaven has applied for an annulment and has offered for my sister-in-law, Lady Leffingwell. Naturally, when the news was out, the entire
ton
could speak of little else, but the reason given for Sir Basil’s action was Ellen’s ill health. With two wives already buried and no heir, it is believed that he has put her aside for a healthier female.”

“You mean he offered for Aunt Vinnie?” Ellen asked incredulously when she finally found her voice. “But she’s too old.”

“She is not as old as you might think.” Augusta smiled. “And although you will scarce credit it, she has developed quite a
tendre
for Brockhaven.
I
think they quite deserve each other,” she added smugly.

“He’s getting an annulment and not a divorce?”

“Yes, well, I believe Lord Trent can be most persuasive at times, my love.”

“And I shall be free,” Ellen mused slowly as her aunt’s news sank in. “Gerry, did you hear? I shall be free, I shall be free!”

“Aye, I heard.” He grinned as he reached to squeeze her hand. “Ellie, I am quite happy for you.”

“Well, it is not quite over yet,” Lady Sandbridge cut in, “for there are those among Brockhaven’s friends who will have it that the fault was Ellen’s and that Sir Basil is merely being gallant. There have been whisperings about her whereabouts, and some have even insinuated that he found her not to be all she was supposed to be.”

“What?”

“Oh, ’twill die down in time as some new
on-dit
takes its place, my dear, so I would not refine too much on the gossip. And since Amy is to be out this Season, I brought her here ostensibly for a little town bronze, but in reality to escape any association with the unpleasantness.”

“And Papa?” Ellen had to know.

“I leave that to Lord Trent to tell. Surely he will be coming to Paris to apprise you both of what has happened.” Turning to Gerald again, she nodded her approval. “But I cannot but confirm that you have done the right thing. We will give out that Ellen has been recovering at Greenfield from an unknown malady once suspected of being consumption, and is now joining me and her sister for a holiday abroad. ’Twill be said she came to escape the scandal, but what’s that to the point, anyway? At least it will be shown that we mean to stand with her and hold her blameless.”

“Aunt Gussie, I am sorry you had to do this for Amy. I would not have had this touch any of you.”

“Nonsense,” Augusta dismissed briskly, “I have always liked Paris and am glad to be back now that that lunatic Bonaparte is done, dearest child. And Amy is finding herself the belle of the diplomatic corps, I assure you. Indeed, the only regret I have is that your Mr. Farrell was the only man we could impress on such a short notice to accompany us.”

“John? Here? Oh, dear, what a lowering thought!”

“Yes, and I cannot tell you enough how very right you were to decline his offer, my dear, for I have never met such a prosy bore in my life. He and Amy are forever at daggers drawn, as he will not desist in telling her how to go on, which to him means to be quite insipid.”

“And you simply cannot depress his pretensions,” Ellen said, “for I have tried for years. There was no way that I could make him see that I truly did not want to be Mrs. Farrell.” She looked up at Gerald and explained, “I know it is quite unbecoming of me to say so, Gerry, but it was true.”

“Well, my dear, I believe he has not given up hope in that quarter yet,” Augusta informed her with a sigh. “I vow that I had not gotten halfway to Dover before I was heartily sick of his telling me how your father refused his suit when he knew full well that you were quite willing.”

“Surely he never said that.”

“Over and over again.”

“Aunt Gussie, I told him outright that we should not suit!”

“Reverend Farrell has the most selective hearing I have ever witnessed, my dear. I am afraid that nothing short of seeing you wed again to another man will ever convince him that his case is hopeless, and I am not even sure then. From what I have seen of the man, he will simply wait until you are a widow.”

“Nonsense, Ellie.” Gerald rose to take his leave. “If the fellow gets too persistent, just apply to me. I have not the least compunction about sending him on his way—and neither will Alex.”

“Oh, your pardon, Aunt Gussie.” Amy Marling stood in the doorway for a moment and then saw Ellen. “Ellie!

Oh, whyever did you not call me down, Aunt Gussie? I heard voices but thought ’twas the servants. Oh, Ellie!”

Gerald watched as a girl he could only describe truly as a vision of loveliness flew across the room to envelope Ellen in an enthusiastic embrace. She was laughing and crying and altogether absorbed in taking stock of her sister.

“You’ve grown prodigiously prettier, Ellie, I swear. But let me just look at you. I knew you would not live with Brockhaven—I knew it! And Papa was mad as fire until—”

“Amy! Your manners, miss,” Lady Sandbridge interrupted sharply.

“But … Oh!” She looked up suddenly and saw Gerald Deveraux, and her beautiful face flushed in confusion. “Oh, dear, how I do go on, uh—”

“Amy, may I present Gerald Deveraux? Gerry—my sister, Amy Marling.”

“I should have known her anywhere.” Gerald smiled as he bent gallantly over Amy’s small hand. “She is as pretty as you said she was.”

The girl blushed furiously but did not draw away from the pressure of his fingers on hers. Instead, she stared almost dumbly at the twinkling blue eyes, the finely chiseled face, and the unruly black hair. “Oh, but you are funning, sir,” she managed finally, and felt incredibly stupid for saying so.

“I assure you I am not.”

“But you look very much like—”

“Amy!” Augusta cut in again with a warning look to her younger niece. “Captain Deveraux is brother to the Marquess of Trent.”

“Oh, I was about to say—”

“I know what you were about to say and I would ask you not to.”

Amy shot a questioning glance at Augusta and then nodded. “Oh. ’Twas not important, Captain Deveraux. I merely meant that you reminded me of someone,” she recovered. “Someone I quite like, in fact.”

“Amy, would you take Ellen upstairs to freshen for tea while I see the captain out?” Lady Sandbridge asked in a firm manner that brooked no refusal.

“Surely.” The girl held out her hand to Gerald and murmured, “I do so hope you mean to call on us again, Captain. I am sure that Ellie and I would both be pleased to see you.”

“Miss Amy, I quite expect to run tame in this house if your aunt will but let me.”

“Good. Then we shall expect to see you.” Her wide blue eyes met his candidly and she smiled in such a way that Gerald could not mistake her sincerity. “And pray do not let Reverend Farrell discourage you, sir, for he has such a way about him.”

“I do not discourage easily, miss.”

He watched the Marling sisters leave and then turned back to Lady Sandbridge. “I collect, ma’am, that you knew more of this than you admitted at first.”

“Just so. Your brother sought us out in London shortly after you took Ellen out of the country. He apprised us of the annulment and prepared us for the scandal. Indeed, ’twas his idea that I should bring Amy here and that Ellen should join us to lessen the effect some of the stories will have on her. I believe him to be most protective of her.”

“He is.”

“In fact, I am certain he means to make her an offer.”

“Then why the secrecy, ma’am?”

“Because, Captain, I believe a man should do his own courting, for one thing, and I would not push her into anything she does not want to do, for another.”

“You may rest easy on that head, Lady Sandbridge. I know for a fact that she is not indifferent to him; she has admitted as much to me.”

“Then we shall just have to wait for him, shan’t we?” She smiled serenely up at him. “I mean to support my niece.”

“I believe we understand each other.” He smiled back.

“Gerry!” Ellen flew back down the stairs and caught both his hands while her eyes brightened with tears. “Gerry, I … Oh, my dear,
dear
friend, I cannot let you go without telling you again how very grateful I am for all you have done for me and for your friendship. I shall miss you so!”

“Ellie, Ellie, I meant it. I mean to run tame in this house if your aunt will let me. I’d not leave you until all is settled, my dear—word of a Deveraux,” he murmured softly.

“And—and—” She sniffed to hold back the flood of tears. “You will tell Alex how m-much I-I shall miss him, won’t you?”

“I swear it, Ellie. Come, ’tis not over yet.”

“And t-tell him I shall see him repaid for everything—I will.”

“All right, I’ll tell him anything you wish.”

“No. That’s it, Gerry. Oh …” She raised on her tiptoes and hastily gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good-bye, Gerry.” With that, she turned and fled.

“You aren’t in love with her yourself, are you?” Lady Sandbridge asked after Ellen had gone.

“No.” He reached for his cloak and fastened it around his shoulders before adding enigmatically, “I am excessively fond of Ellie, ma’am, but I believe I have interests in another quarter.”

Upstairs, Ellen threw herself across her bed to listen forlornly to the ticking of the ormolu clock on the mantel. She ought to be happy to be restored to at least part of her family, she told herself, but instead she felt infinitely saddened. She’d had such an adventure with Trent and his brother, an adventure that no one would believe. Others could speak of their shocking reputations and of their coldness, but she knew better. No, she’d done the right thing, she tried to convince herself: she’d saved them from the consequences of her scandal. Trent was now free to pursue his other interests.

“Ellie, are you quite all right?” Amy asked from the doorway.

“Oh, of course I am all right.” Ellen sat up and wiped her face before managing a tremulous smile. “I-I am so glad to be with you and Aunt Gussie.”

“You don’t look very happy,” her sister pointed out doubtfully.

“No, really, I …” Ellen could not finish before she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Amy, I am the most miserable of creatures!” she burst out.

Later, when she cornered her aunt alone, Amy told of Ellen’s strange behavior. “Do you think all she has been through has affected her mind? I mean, Ellie’s never suffered from an excess of sensibilities in her life.”

“No, she’s head over heels for Trent, unless I’m very much mistaken in the matter, and she don’t want him to know it.”

“And you would not let me even tell her about his visit to Papa.”

“It’s his business to tell her, missy, and do not be forgetting it,” Augusta told her sternly.

“But what did Papa say?”

“Humph! What could he say? As much as it distresses me to say it, your father is a coward, and certainly no match for the likes of the Marquess of Trent. Wouldn’t have made any difference, anyway. His father was just such a one, Amy, and he stole Lady Caroline quite literally from her family and her betrothed, made off with her straight out of the house in front of everyone.”

“I wonder they survived the scandal.”

“Survived it? They thrived on it, child! He was such a scapegrace that it was almost taken for granted by everyone but her family, of course. By the time he brought her back, she was in the family way with Lord Trent, and what could they say then, anyway?”