Art and Artifice (17 page)

“He’s leaving again,” Priscilla reported from
the window a short time later. She turned to Daphne. “Someone
better go after him.”

Daphne threw up her hands. “Oh, very well. I
suppose it’s not so bad with a chaperon. Come along, Ariadne.”

Her sister squeaked something as she put away
her pencil and journal, but she joined Daphne in alighting on the
pavement.

“If we do this again,” Priscilla told Emily
as the door closed behind them, “we must find disguises.”

“I brought my evening cloak,” Emily replied,
“but it’s not much help in the daylight. Mary told me her sister
works for an actress. She’d probably know what to do.”

They speculated on which actress it might be,
then lapsed into silence as Mr. Wells allowed the horses to amble
along the block. Emily rubbed her gloved finger against the wood
panel of the door. She’d been trying to think of a way to mention
Lord Robert’s perplexing behavior from that morning, but somehow
she hadn’t been able to bring up the matter in front of Daphne and
Ariadne. Perhaps it was best just to state the matter.

“Lord Robert took me into his embrace today,”
she said.

She glanced up in time to see Priscilla’s
emerald eyes widen. Then her friend tossed her golden curls. “You
should not have given him the opportunity. Now he’ll think you’re
sweet on him.”

Emily wrinkled her nose. “I rather doubt
that. As soon as I realized what was happening I jumped up as if he
were on fire. Why would he do something like that, Pris? Hug me, I
mean.”

“A scoundrel like Lord Robert prides himself
on his ability to turn a lady’s head,” Priscilla said, voice stern
with authority. “I do not trust sweet words, Emily. They never lead
to anything but trouble.”

Emily frowned. “But what if the fellow is
sincere?”

Priscilla waved a hand. “If he is sincere,
he’ll offer for you, preferably with a diamond of some sort in
hand.”

Lord Robert had offered. And she supposed he
hadn’t held out a diamond or any other jewel because his family was
not well off. Yet he claimed everything was fine financially. Oh,
was she never to learn the truth about the fellow?

Priscilla had returned to her spot at the
crack. In the shadowed coach, the sounds of London came softly: the
rattle of carriages passing, the rumble of wheels and clatter of
hooves on cobblestones. But the longer they sat there, the more
Emily’s nerves tensed. Perhaps following him again wasn’t such a
good idea. Jamie would certainly have scolded her had he known.
What if Lord Robert was a worse scoundrel than she thought? What if
he saw Daphne and Ariadne following him?

What if he were no villain after all, and she
caused a scandal greater than Priscilla’s aunt?

“Berry Brothers is just down the street, you
know,” Priscilla commented. “They are purveyors of fine wine, with
a scale big enough to weigh a man upon.” She pulled back to eye
Emily. “I wonder if I could prevail upon them to lend it for our
guests’ amusement at the Ball.”

Emily nodded but with no feeling. Would Lord
Robert recognize Daphne and Ariadne after their brief meeting at
His Grace’s townhouse? They had said the least to him.

“Oh!” Priscilla cried.

Emily stiffened. “What? Are they in
danger?”

“No,” she cried, nose to the crack in the
shutters. “You should see the crowds at Harris’s. The new lavender
water must have come in, and we’re missing it!”

“Will you please attend to our task?” Emily
hissed.

Priscilla waved a hand in her direction. Mr.
Wells turned the horses to circle the block.

By the time they started down St. James’s
again, Emily’s foot was tapping on the floor. What if Lord Robert
suspected their purpose? Surely he wouldn’t accost her friends on a
public street. But what if he drew them into an alley? It was not
unknown for young ladies to disappear in the dark of London. Maybe
he really was smuggling virgins. What had she done?

“Give over,” she demanded, shoving Priscilla
away from the window.

“Well, I like that,” Priscilla said with a
sniff, throwing herself back into her seat. “May I remind you,
Lady
Emily, that this is my carriage?”

“Yes, yes,” Emily said. “And this is my
future.” She peered through the crack. Where were they? Where was
he? Other carriages passed, blocking her view. A group of gentlemen
erupted from one of the clubs, crowding the pavement with the sound
of their husky laughter.

Mr. Wells slowed the carriage, then stopped
it, and she caught sight of Ariadne’s pink pelisse. Emily barely
fell back from the door before the girl snatched it open, and she
and her sister jumped in.

“He just hailed a hack,” Daphne said as she
fell into her seat. “Heading south, toward Pall Mall.”

Priscilla rapped on the panel. “Did you hear
that, Mr. Wells?”

“South toward Pall Mall. Very good, Miss.” He
called to the horses, and the carriage picked up speed.

“Well?” Priscilla demanded as Ariadne sat
fanning herself with one hand. “What happened?”

“I’m so glad you convinced me to go,” Daphne
answered, voice trembling in her excitement. “It was tremendously
insightful. He visited an apothecary, a haberdashery, and a
perfumery. Lord Snedley never mentioned that men needed
perfume.”

“Spare me his shopping list,” Emily said.
“Did he do nothing interesting?”

Apparently nothing they could connect to what
they already suspected. But at least, with him safely ensconced in
another carriage, they could open the shutters and watch the city
pass as they chased him.

He led them around the gatehouse to St.
James’s Palace; the red brick towers with banners flying looked
like something out of a medieval tale. Then he continued toward
palatial Carlton House, where the Prince Regent lived. Grand
churches with beggars on their stone steps, businesses with
dark-coated gentlemen scurrying to and fro, and shops crowded with
the fashionable flew past their windows.

It wasn’t until the shopping district of
Fleet Street that Lord Robert stopped again, leaving his hired hack
to loiter in front of a modiste’s shop as fashionable as Madam
Levasard’s. Daphne kept the shutters open just the slightest, so
that they all could view the proceedings. The ladies inside the
dressmaker’s shop noticed him as well. Emily could see them peering
out the window and whispering behind their hands.

Another lady strolled up. By the way she
smiled at Lord Robert and held out her hand, Emily did not think
the two of them had just happened to meet. She had black hair that
cascaded down her back in heavy curls, and an emerald velvet hat
with a single peacock feather waving over the flat top. Jeweled
bobs dangled from her ears, and fur edged her jacket. A maid with a
ribboned cap was standing just behind, trying to pretend she was
invisible.

“That’s Lady Skelcroft’s daughter, Lady
Wheeling,” Ariadne said. “I’ve seen her caricature in the
papers.”

“And those are diamonds at her ears,”
Priscilla added. “And notice the drape of that gown? Straight out
of
La Belle Assemblée
, the ladies’ fashion magazine.”

As they watched, Lord Robert raised her hand
to his lips and held it there far too long. Lady Wheeling tilted
her head to gaze up at him. Emily could almost hear her giggle from
the carriage.

“She’s married, you know,” Ariadne said
quietly. “And her husband is worth five thousand pounds a
year.”

“That must be the married woman with whom he
dallied,” Emily said, amazed the words came so calmly when her
heart was hitting her chest so painfully. How could he look at that
woman so tenderly when only this morning he’d held Emily in his
arms? “Does it appear to you that the dalliance is ended?”

As if he knew she was watching, Lord Robert
turned and walked away. The lady’s smile faded. Her shoulders
hunched in the fine jacket, making her look far older. She turned
and barked something to her maid, who scurried after her as they
continued down the street.

“Perhaps,” Priscilla allowed. “Oh, boys can
be so unfair!”

“I think she’s the one who’s unfair,” Daphne
said, raising her chin. “She should have been loyal to her husband.
Lord Snedley would have insisted upon it.”

“Well, it looks as if her husband is stingy,”
Priscilla said as if that excused the lady’s actions. “I’ve seen a
set of ear bobs very like those. Aunt Sylvia had them.
Her
husband bought her the matching necklace.”

Emily narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps Lady Wheeling had
a matching necklace as well, before she met Lord Robert.”

“Oh,” Ariadne said with a delighted shiver.
“Yes, of course. What if he stole something from every lady with
whom he dallied? I can see the line now: ‘He could not steal their
hearts, so he stole their jewels instead.’” She reached for her
reticule and started hunting for her journal.

“But we’ve already established that he could
not have stolen Acantha’s sapphires,” Priscilla pointed out. “She
merely misplaced them.”

“Perhaps he didn’t steal from Acantha,”
Daphne said. “Even jewel thieves must have some standards.”

“At least you know he isn’t after your
jewels, Emily,” Ariadne said, obviously unwilling to give up the
idea. “He actually offered for you.”

That was small consolation. If he’d stolen
jewels from all the ladies with whom he’d dallied, why were so few
of them complaining? And he certainly hadn’t dallied with Lady
Minerva! Emily could not understand him. Was he or wasn’t he a
scoundrel?

From Fleet Street he hailed a hack to
Doctors’ Commons. So close to the Thames, the air was thick with
the briny tang of the river. The heavy stone buildings sat around a
center courtyard, and Emily and the others could see men and women
of all walks of life hurrying back and forth. Close at hand, a
family stood with heads bowed, faces pinched, their black coats and
hats proclaiming them to be in mourning.

“That building is where wills are debated,”
Ariadne explained.

Across the way, three gentlemen strode out of
another building. Seeing Lord Robert, they paused to clap him on
the back and offer their hands. Emily was at a loss as to why.

Ariadne looked at her with pity. “That’s
where you purchase a special license to marry.”

Emily felt ill.

She felt no better as the afternoon wore on.
The sun was setting as Lord Robert returned to his club. Daphne and
Ariadne were nodding in their seats, and Mr. Wells reminded
Priscilla that the horses needed their beds. Besides, Emily had
promised Lady Minerva that she’d return the coach before
nightfall.

“He must have seen us,” Priscilla said as
they watched the lamplighter approach on St. James’s. “That is the
only explanation for his exemplary behavior today.”

Emily shook her head. This was maddening! She
couldn’t go another night wondering whether Lord Robert was true in
his courtship, worrying that she would never have a life. She had
to discover his secret, to save her future and her sanity.

“Wait,” Priscilla said from the window. “I
think he’s just come out again, on foot.” She turned to Emily.
“Shall I have Mr. Wells follow him?”

“No,” Emily said, opening her evening cloak
and slipping it about her shoulders. “If he’s on foot, I shall
follow him this time.”

“Oh, Lady Emily,” Daphne cried, “you can’t!
Think of your reputation if you are caught!”

“Better a tarnished reputation than a life
married to Lord Robert,” Emily countered, though her heart started
beating more quickly at the thought.

“At least with a tarnished reputation you’ll
be less attractive to the slave markets,” Ariadne said as if that
would cheer her.

“Just keep me in sight,” Emily told them.

They nodded, wide-eyed, and she climbed from
the carriage.

Mr. Wells looked startled to see her, but no
more startled than she to see the changes in St. James’s with the
twilight. Gone were the strolling dandies, the fashionable ladies.
The women across the street were no ladies at all, their lips
blood-red as the lamplight flared to life above them.

Shadows leapt away from her, growing larger.
Unseen fingers seemed to reach out to drag her down. Even the air
felt colder as she sucked in a breath. She would never dare show
her face in the daylight again if it were known she’d been so
foolhardy as to venture down St. James’s after dark.

But she would not give up. Before Mr. Wells
could stop her, she pulled her hood about her head and hurried
away.

Lord Robert was heading away from White’s
into the area where the lamplighter had yet to go, leading her
deeper into the darkness. Her hands clutched the cloak about her,
clammy. In the dusk, she could just make out the chestnut of his
hair. What had he done with his hat? There was also something odd
about the way he moved, hunched over, shuffling along as if to
allow her to follow. Did he know she was there, or had he already
had too much wine? Did she truly want to face him when he was
foxed?

Suddenly, he darted into an alley. Was he at
last involving himself in scandal? She glanced back to make sure
the carriage was following, then crept to the corner and peered
around it.

A large hand reached out and grabbed her
cloak. She barely managed a gasp before she was tugged into the
darkness.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jamie
demanded.

She was stiff in his grip, but in fright or
frustration he couldn’t know. He didn’t want to scare her, but he
had to convince her to stop putting herself in danger. As if the
sound of his voice had reassured her, he felt her relax before he
removed his hand from her evening cloak.

“I might ask you the same question,” she
countered.

“I’m trying to keep you out of trouble,
though you don’t make it easy.” He straightened and heard her suck
in a breath.