BRIGHTON BEAUTY (2 page)

Upon arriving at the Marchmont house, Chelsea was shown up to an elegantly appointed drawing room and told that Miss Marchmont would join her presently. Far too angry to sit down and wait patiently, Chelsea nervously paced the room. That she was the only person here did not surprise her in the least. Alayna had obviously used the tea party as a ruse to whisk her from beneath Mr. Merribone's nose.
If only she knew the reason for Alayna's subterfuge this time!

If it were Alayna's intent to ruin her reputation in London with tales of her late grandfather Andover's indiscretions, why had she not simply repeated the untruths to Mr. Merribone and been done with it? Blurting out the lies had worked in an instant with Lady Hennessey. Chelsea had been dismissed on the spot.

Pacing from the hearth to the row of mullioned windows and back again, she at last heard the drawing room door slide open behind her. Whirling about, she watched as Alayna glided toward her, a sweet smile on her admittedly pretty face. Of a purpose, Chelsea did not return the smile.

"What do you want this time, Alayna?" she demanded.

"Why, Chelsea, dear, what a positively insolent greeting. Do sit down, I shall ring at once for our tea."

"I am not staying for tea, Alayna. I insist you tell me straightaway what it is you want from me."

Alayna's sugary smile did not waver as she turned from the bell rope she had already pulled. "I shall reveal my plan to you over tea, Chelsea. Do be a dear and sit down." A hand indicated a pale lemon-yellow settee situated before the low-burning fire in the hearth.

Pressing her lips tightly together, Chelsea edged onto the settee while Alayna took a seat in a striped wing chair opposite.

"Now, then," Alayna began. "I must say, I was shocked to learn that you were employed at a millinery shop, Chelsea. Making bonnets." She pulled a face. "How dreadfully dull. Still, I recall you did have somewhat of an artistic flair at school. No doubt Miss Farringdon would think you quite a success now.
You
always were her pet pupil, but we know the
real
reason for that, do we not?"

Chelsea's nostrils flared. "What is it you want, Alayna?"

Alayna made a dismissing motion with one hand. "We've plenty of time to discuss that, Chelsea dear. I'd much rather you tell me why you simply disappeared from us in Bath? Aunt Lettie was quite beside herself with worry. We all were. You can be such an ungrateful girl at times. I, for one, thought it quite generous of my aunts to offer you employment after the unceremonious manner in which Lady Hennessey dismissed you.

"Dismissed me?" Chelsea's eyes flashed. "And who do I have to thank for that?"

"Why, I only wished you to accompany me on holiday, Chelsea. I cannot think why you are still angry with me over such a trifling matter. It was well past a year ago. Why, I still think of you as my dearest friend in all the world."

Chelsea chose not to respond to that. It was true she and Alayna had once been dear friends. Both orphans, they had naturally gravitated to one another at Miss Farringdon's Academy, but their differing circumstances now created a chasm so wide no childhood friendship could hope to bridge.

When Chelsea was a child of ten, both her parents had been killed in a common carriage accident outside Brighton . . . common because spills and upsets on the road to London were an almost daily occurrence considering the frivolous manner in which gentlemen pitted their gigs and curricles against one another. After her father's enormous debts had been paid, what little remained of her Grandpapa Andover's vast fortune was set aside for Chelsea's education. With no family to care for her, the unfortunate child had been placed with the spinster Farringdon sisters at their academy in Brighton, a school her Grandfather Andover had generously supported during his lifetime.

The elder Miss Farringdon had seemed especially glad to have Chelsea with her. And, therein lay Chelsea's problem.

Though she never believed a word of it, it was widely rumored at the school that her grandfather, Sir George, who had died when Chelsea was seven, had not only funded the school, but had also engaged in certain illicit studies of his own with the elder Miss Farringdon. Because Chelsea had adored her lovable grandpapa, she grew white-faced with anger whenever any of her schoolmates taunted her about her grandfather's supposed
tendre
with the prim and proper Miss Farringdon. Some even questioned the legitimacy of Chelsea's lineage.
That
was more than she could bear. Grandpapa Andover was Chelsea's only link to respectability and she would not let anyone mar his good name.

"Did you know that I am to be married?" Alayna asked suddenly, jarring Chelsea from her reverie.

"Hmm." Chelsea sniffed.

Alayna smiled. "That is the reason I invited you to tea today, Chelsea dear; to inform you of my plans."

"I see." Not at all certain whether to believe Alayna was telling the whole truth or not, Chelsea shifted nervously on the settee. "I expect congratulations are in order."

"Why, thank you!" Alayna responded brightly, then turned to attend to the tea service the butler was carrying in. After depositing the silver tray on a lovely rosewood table at Alayna's elbow and nestling the pot in the server, he silently vanished, leaving the two young ladies once again alone.

Alayna poured two teacups full of the steaming brew, and after handing one to Chelsea, settled back to sip from her own cup. "Are you not curious to know
who
I am to marry?" she asked.

Though she honestly did not care a whit, Chelsea said, "I am simply dying to know, Alayna."

Alayna giggled. "Oh, Chelsea, you always were an abominable liar! I am to marry a cousin of mine, Rutherford Campbell. He is the sixth baron. I have not seen him since I was a child, and to say truth, I do not care for him in the least. Though, he is extremely well-put. Or . . . will be. Our marriage releases his inheritance." She smiled roundly. "In a month, I shall be a baroness and you shall have to address me as Lady Rathbone."

"In a month, I hope not to be addressing you at all."

"Oh, Chelsea." Alayna laughed again. "You can be so very droll at times." She leaned forward to set her teacup down. "Rutherford has vast holdings in Honduras, a mahogany plantation, I understand." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "So, of course, I have no intention of joining him there. I should go quite mad in such an uncivilized place. I have not yet told Rutherford of my plans. I see no need to inform him until after the ceremony." She smiled conspiratorially. "I expect it will be too late by then, won't it? My Aunt Lettie and Aunt Millicent, Rutherford's mother, arranged the match. Rutherford and I are both agreeable to it; though we have only discussed the matter by letter.

"As I said, we have neither of us laid eyes on the other since we were children. I was a mere child of ten or eleven when last I saw Ford. Though, following our betrothal last month I sent him a lovely miniature of myself. It was the best likeness of me yet!" she enthused. "If I had known of your whereabouts, Chelsea, I could have shown the picture to you before I sent it. At any rate . . . this is where you come in."

Her teacup halfway to her lips, Chelsea's hand froze in mid-air. "Me?"

"Why, of course, dear. It's the rest of the reason I invited you to take tea with me today."

Chelsea's heart pounded afresh.

"Do not look so alarmed, Chelsea dear. I am sure you will be agreeable to what I propose. At the very least, it will remove you from that horrid bonnet shop where you now spend your days."

"I have no intention of leaving my post, Alayna, and I will thank you to stop meddling in my . . . "

"It will only be for a month, Chelsea. That is . . . " she smiled wickedly, " . . . unless you refuse."

Chelsea's heart plummeted to her feet. "And if I refuse?"

"Why, I shall have to pay another call on Mr. Merribone, of course."

Chelsea sprang to her feet so fast she nearly toppled her teacup. Her hand shaking furiously, she deposited the clattering cup and saucer onto the tray.

Watching her, Alayna wore a sly smile. "You appear overset, Chelsea. Do sit down, I have not yet told you the whole of it."

Chelsea glared at Alayna. "No! I shall not sit down! And I refuse to let you spoil my living for me here as you did with Lady Hennessey in Brighton!"

"Why, Chelsea, I meant to spoil nothing for you there, and I do not mean to here. Unless, of course . . ." her voice trailed off again.

Chelsea's bosom rose and fell with heated anxiety. "What do you want from me, Alayna?"

Alayna turned another sweet smile on her guest. "It is such a simple request really. I merely want you to travel to Chester. Do sit down, and let me explain."

Chelsea's heart thundered in her ears. As usual, Alayna's way of putting things left her with no choice but to do as Alayna asked. Glaring at her hostess, she edged back onto the settee.

"Now, then," Alayna began sweetly, "as it happens, Rutherford and I are to be married by
proxy
in that musty old chapel at Castle Rathbone. You know how I detest the country. So dreadfully rustic. At any rate, because Rutherford will not be present, the marriage ceremony is merely a formality. Aunt Millicent will be there, of course, but no one else of consequence, except myself, and the clergyman. A stranger . . . perhaps even a servant . . . will be standing in for Ford. But in order to be married in this fashion, by proxy, one of us must reside for an entire month beforehand in the parish where the wedding ceremony is to take place. And, since Ford is in Honduras, that leaves only
me
to satisfy the silly residency requirement. Surely you can see my problem, Chelsea."

"You wish me to keep you company for the month you are to be in the country," Chelsea muttered flatly.

Alayna nodded, though a bit coyly.

"Well, I simply cannot, Alayna. I cannot just up and leave my post on a whim. I am not like you. I must work to earn my keep, and I cannot . . . "

"But, I am prepared to pay you, Chelsea. Double what Mr. Merribone does," she added.

Chelsea's lips tightened. She would not do it. Not for any amount of money.

"I shall pay you a hundred pounds!" Alayna interjected shrilly. "I promise I shall!"

Chelsea thrust her chin up. No. She still would not do it.

Alayna leaned forward, her blue eyes angry. "If you refuse me, Chelsea, I shall have no recourse but to
insist.
And then, you shall have no post to come back to."

Chelsea's nostrils flared. Alayna did not make idle threats. She would do exactly as she said. Oh, why did Alayna persist in interfering in her life? At length, Chelsea inhaled an uneven breath. "Well, I . . . I suppose I could ask Mr. Merribone to grant me a month's leave of absence in order to accompany you to Chester."

"Accompany
me? Oh, I shall not be going, Chelsea. I have other plans for the month. You shall be going to Chester
instead
of me."

Chelsea's brown eyes widened. "Instead of you?"

Alayna nodded. "You shall pretend to
be
me while you are in Chester. We are the same size and have virtually the same colouring. Not that it would matter a whit. No doubt, you will not see a single soul who knows either of us, but in the event that you do . . . "

"But, Alayna, I cannot . . . you said yourself I am an abominable liar. I could never carry off such a pretense! Not to mention that it would be an outrageous lie!"

"Oh, you mustn't think of it in that manner, Chelsea. Think of it as . . . acting. As I recall, you are a . . . fair actress. Not nearly so accomplished as I, of course, but you did win the title of 'Brighton Beauty' while we were in school. I never forgave you for that, you know. I thought my Lady Macbeth far superior to your Juliet, but all the same . . . "

"It was my
one
triumph at school," Chelsea cut in, elevating her chin to a height equaling Alayna's. "And it has nothing to say to anything. I could never convince your Aunt Millicent that I am you! And it most certainly would be lying," she maintained.

"Oh, Chelsea," Alayna leaned forward, "of course, you could do it. Aunt Millicent hasn't seen me since I was a child, and besides, she is practically blind, spends all her days sequestered in her bedchamber. I have everything arranged. You shall take my carriage; and wear my clothes. Why, I have already packed a trunk. And my own abigail, Dulcie, shall accompany you. Dulcie is delighted with the prospect of hoodwinking Aunt Millie. She has a half-sister at Castle Rathbone who says my aunt isn't the least popular with the servants. She is far too nasty and cantankerous; doesn't get along with a soul these days. So, you see, it is a perfect plan."

"I see nothing of the sort, Alayna," Chelsea replied frostily. "And furthermore, I do not see why you cannot go yourself."

"Because I . . . " Alayna paused, considering, as she chewed on her lower lip. "I think it wiser that I do not divulge my whereabouts to you, Chelsea. Suffice to say that I shall also not remain in London. If my plan should go awry, you may honestly say you have no idea where I am."

Chelsea stewed. She knew very well it was asking far too much to expect Alayna to tell the whole truth. Besides, she was too upset over her own situation to even care what mischief Alayna was up to. Her own world had come tumbling down around her feet, and for what? A ridiculous scheme, that's what. If she refused, Alayna would see to it that she lost not only her position with Mr. Merribone, but her reputation in Town would be ruined as well, and then what would she do? At least, this way, if Mr. Merribone agreed to her request, her good name in London would remain intact and she would still have a means of support once she returned to Town. Still . . . she hated letting Alayna think she was giving in so easily.

She thrust her chin up another notch. "I cannot imagine what could be more important to you, Alayna, than marrying your cousin, a wealthy, titled gentleman. Surely you relish the idea of setting up your own household . . . " Chelsea felt a prick of wistfulness as she realized how very unlikely such a prospect was for her.