Argent (Hundred Days Series Book 3) (10 page)

              “No time was fixed for our gathering,” reassured Laurel, “Not enough to cause anyone inconvenience.”

              “We did nothing until you arrived but make idle conversation,” Emily offered smoothly. “No one was the least put out.”

              Alix reached out and claimed Amelia's bonnet, passing it down to rest on a table between her and Laurel. “We're glad for your company. You have made our little party complete.”

              “Any news from town?” Elizabeth snickered, swatting at Caroline's prodding finger. Paulina pressed a laugh with her hand.

Alix could only stare, frightened by their callous enjoyment of Amelia’s predicament. They would stop their baiting any moment, wouldn’t they? Then her eyes fell to Paulina, and Alix knew there was no limit to what the trio might say or do, not if her sister-in-law had any say.

              “Refrain from gossip in Lady Hastings’s parlor, dear.” Sarah’s smile was brilliant but her words were acid.

              Caroline opened her mouth then snapped it again, eyes fixed at a point over Lady Jersey's shoulder. Alix felt the newcomers before she heard them, sensing eyes on her back. She had been too absorbed in the Greek tragedy playing out in the drawing room to catch the sounds of an approach.

              John, Spencer, and Lord Jersey hovered on the threshold, presumably waiting to be invited in, but Alix saw something in the furrow of Spencer's brow, the way Lord Jersey glanced between his wife and Caroline which hinted at more to their arrival than a social call.

              “Villiers, come in here and let me look at you,” Sarah drawled, tossing her husband a heavy-lidded glance.

              “Not exhausted from looking at every other man in the county?” he quipped.

              Theirs was a strange pairing, from what Alix gathered. Lady Jersey had affairs of her own, and Alix presumed her husband did too. But when the two were in proximity she would swear that
they
were lovers. George strode in, presenting himself for his wife's inspection and she began to understand Laurel's comment about being a Villiers. Lord and Lady Jersey were attractive book ends, his features equally striking. Broad forehead, hooked, regal nose and lips perpetually on the edge of a wry smile did him credit against a stoic persona. Lord Jersey was undeniably handsome, a gentleman turned from the same mold as his friend Lord Reed. The comparison drew her eye to Spencer, who arched a brow at her unbroken stare.

              “You look positively wild. Sit down.” Sarah snapped the command, breaking Alix’s study of Spencer. The words were sharp but Alix caught a spark in George's eyes hinting that if he was being horsewhipped, he enjoyed it.

              Out of seats and not being invited to do likewise, John and Spencer stationed themselves beside Laurel, who cleared her throat delicately at a protracted silence. “Did you enjoy your sport?” she asked John finally, breaking the quiet stalemate and giving obvious relief to several of her guests.

He tried and failed at a frown. “Jersey and his supernatural horse. Put me and Reed in the dust.”

              Spencer nodded his agreement, holding her eyes all the while. “Put up a racehorse, Jersey, and you'll have my wager every time.”

              “I'm after it. Be patient. A few more seasons and I'll have a champion.” Jersey’s words were rough stones of thought, curt replies while his brain turned over something more consuming. By his slitted eyes fixed on Caroline, Alix guessed that
something
was not his thoroughbred at the moment.

              More silence chased Lord Jersey's bravado. John shifted foot to foot, and Spencer in his charming fashion took stock of the gathering. “Ladies, you look each of you lovely. How are you?” Nods and murmurs. He met her eyes again. “Mrs. Rowan. You look well this afternoon. How is your cough?”

              She bit her cheek to pin down a smile. “Much improved.”
Cad
.

              Silence descended once again and unease stretched taut across the small room.

              Tea being brought in relieved Laurel to the point of near collapse. It kept everyone busy and on topic, initiating a round of pleases and thank yous and 'mind the cup is hot'. It occupied exactly five minutes of the next quarter hour. Alix wished she could convey to Spencer with a look the silent agony hanging over the room.

              As if reading her mind, he turned to Amelia and raised his voice. “Lady Grey. How are you enjoying your time in the country?” Amelia smiled and nodded. Grasping by her look that she hadn’t quite heard him, Alix leaned in and repeated the question.

              She beamed up at Spencer. “Oh, it's breathtaking. I haven't come up with Grey before, to Rosemont. The house is perfect and we’re both enjoying it. Grey has been a little ill, but I’m certain that the fine weather will mend him.” Her smile broadened, showing a dimple. “We are enjoying it,” she repeated.

              “More than town?” Paulina clawed at Amelia, showing off for her tittering companions.

              Poison, strangling. No punishment was fast enough or fitting enough in Alix's opinion.

              Amelia beamed. “Oh, I doubt there's much Grey loves more than town.”

              “I can imagine
one
thing,” Elizabeth muttered, giggling with her companions, hissed down by Sarah’s shushing.

              Alix felt decorum crumbling into a landslide. Laurel, not permitted by the vice of good manners to stand up and order everyone out, was casting increasingly desperate glances at John. Sarah balanced a high wire between imposing decency and revealing too much in Amelia's presence. Caroline, Elizabeth and Paulina grew bolder, too in love with their own hateful cleverness to give Amelia's feelings any quarter. All the while the poor girl smiled and nodded, confident of being among friends. Alix could only sit, an unwilling spectator while the final, terrible act unfolded.

              Emily scooted forward on her cushion, interjecting herself and aiming for a distraction. “I hope you'll claim your vouchers for Almack's first thing this season. Our soirees at the assembly rooms would hardly be complete without you in attendance.”

              Amelia gasped and grabbed Emily's hand. “How wonderful. I will be so delighted!”

              Elizabeth, half listening and half paying attention to Caroline's poisoned whispers, shoved a shortbread between thick lips. “You won't be able to show your face there, Amelia! Not with all the scandal!”

              Alix heard air being sucked from the room, a collective inward gasp of every person present except Amelia, whose face clouded at Elizabeth's braying. Of all the times for her hearing to work perfectly, Alix thought, it had to be now.

“What scandal? What do you mean?” Wide brown eyes searched their faces, leaving Alix the sick feeling of tormenting some baby animal.

              Elizabeth, at least, had the good sense to look shamed and a bit green at her horrible breach. Paulina and Caroline, flanking her, sat stone faced and obstinate. Cowards, forcing someone else to deliver the deathblow while they feasted on Amelia's misery. Alix refused to play along.

              “What scandal?” Amelia repeated, voice trembling as she pleaded with Emily, who swallowed and looked to her lap.

              “Amelia,” Alix said firmly, snapping the girl's attention to her. “You look tired. I'm going to see you home.” She stood and held out a hand which Amelia clasped with her smaller one. Towing her limp little frame to the door, Alix pushed her out into the hall. “Go and fetch your gloves. I'll be along directly.”

              Amelia nodded, moving on stiff legs down the hall.

              She crossed the room when Amelia was out of sight, seeing red by the time she reached the others. “Every one of you,” she hissed, jabbing at even Paulina's tight-lipped expression, “owns some blame for what just transpired here, by your words or by your silence, but
you
,” she sliced a finger across Caroline, Paulina and Elizabeth, “ought to
burn
from the inside with shame that only the hand of God himself can relieve.” She bit off the words, choking down more, and turned on her heel toward the door.

              A word was spoken behind her, a desperate command, but her feet pounded in her ears as much as her thundering heart and Alix couldn't make it out. Amelia was her sole focus now, hunched in the hall, dwarfed by its high columns like an imprisoned miniature, eyes wide and red rimmed. “Mrs. Rowan,” she whispered, “please tell me what is happening.”

              Alix's heart clenched, choking off her words until she could gather herself. Then she wrapped an arm around Amelia's narrow shoulders, sweeping her toward the door. “On the way home, when we can speak more freely.” They shuffled out together under a sun that was hateful in its brilliance, callous to poor Lady Grey's impending heartbreak.

              “Settle in. I'll get my hat.” She passed Amelia off to a footman, who handed her up into the carriage.

              Only when she turned back to find Spencer waiting on the top step did it register that what she'd heard in the hallway was her name on his lips. He grabbed her wrist with long fingers as she passed by, forcing her to turn around. She wasn't angry with
him
, just angry, and she didn't want to talk. “I'm getting my hat,” she repeated.

              Nodding, Spencer brought an arm from behind his back and held out her bonnet.

*              *              *

              Spencer settled the hat on Alexandra's head, certain she would pull away before he could find his voice. He swallowed twice before managing out the words. “What you said inside was brave, Alexandra.”

              She raised her chin a fraction. “And could have,
should
have been said by any one of the others. Someone less apt to face Paulina’s wrath.”

              “But it was you.” The words tumbled out unchecked. “You have my thanks, my admiration. And someday when Amelia is able to look back on these days, I expect it will be you she thinks of with gratitude. Her father is a friend to me; he'll appreciate what you've done.”

              Softening, Alix pressed his fingers with her other hand, glancing back at Amelia's gaunt face peering through the carriage window. “Those days are very, very far away.”

              Gripping her wrist tighter, he tugged her down one step at a time. “Come.”

              “Come where? What are you doing?”

              “Going with you. Now stop dragging feet and come along.”

              Full lips pursed, leaving no question of her disapproval, but Alix followed along. He wasn't eager to join her, but suspected she might need him more than she was letting on. He certainly wouldn’t allow her to face this task alone.

              Lord Jersey had broken the news to them that morning, just as they passed the first clearing out of Broadmoore's view. No one believed Grey's dalliance with Julia Fields had ended with his marriage to Amelia. He behaved more as a parent to her than as a husband. As John had pointed out on their ride, it was assumed that Grey might seek out his mistress from time to time, while remaining discreet.

Jersey's quick synopsis of the daily papers proved Grey had been anything but, and the printing had not spared his words to Julia. That he had groaned over her, passed days in agitation at the thought of her, taken her in his carriage, the very one they were alighting now, one afternoon when parliament had let out early. Julia had shared every red-tinted detail, recalled in her lover’s hand.

              They hadn't comprehended the real danger in an immediate sense until Jersey spotted three ladies coming down a far hill and John identified the dangerous mix of Ralls, Conyngham and Mrs. Paton. Their horses couldn't draw up or wheel about fast enough. Jersey had made it readily apparent that racing was indeed in his thoroughbred's future, but not at the promise of any coin. Still they were too late; they'd arrived at the house to find a fuse already lit among the women. Alexandra's face had dashed the last of his hopes, saying as plain as any words that Amelia’s fate had been decided.

              He took the carriage’s empty seat. Alix settled opposite, beside Amelia, who burrowed into the crook of her arm without invitation.

The carriage lurched forward, more jarring than it should have been, and Spencer realized he was stiff with nerves head to toe.

              Alexandra held his gaze in silence until they had passed under the front gate turning out onto the main road. He was out of his depth, never the unfaithful one and never jilted, and by Alexandra’s expression, her frame of reference was not any broader.

              In the end, Amelia took the matter out of their hands. “Is it Grey?” she whispered.

              “What makes you think so?” Alexandra's voice brimmed with compassion, so much that he also felt comforted by her words.

              “I didn't until this moment. A letter came last week. I went to his desk to borrow a nib for my quill. Flowers, roses I think. An envelope was perfumed with them. I wondered but I didn’t...I would never think so of him.”