Elizabeth Boyle (40 page)

“I’ll not keep quiet, Trahern,” Lyle threatened. “I’ll tell the entire world the truth about this trollop you married.”

Giles stepped in front of Sophia to shield her from the man’s vile statements. “And who will believe you, Lyle? You are obviously insane. Not to mention a traitor and a coward. My meek and mild bride masquerading as the Brazen Angel? Why, the notion is preposterous. I find her quite pleasing, but she is hardly a diamond of that order.” He turned to his wife. “My apologies, my dear.”

“Apology accepted. I’m not vain about my appearance,” she said with a strained look on her face. “I know I’m rather plain and could certainly never venture out alone like that daring creature.”

Giles smiled, knowing he’d pay for his statement about her looks. He turned back to Lyle. “You’ll only look all that much more vindictive and foolish if you start spreading more lies.”

Lyle wrestled free from his captors. “I have proof. I have statements. I have the court documents.”

“From a man who freely admits he counterfeits money to steal land from noblemen?” Giles crumpled the papers in his fist. “Manufactured to blackmail my family once you realized your treachery had been discovered.” Giles turned to the captain of the guard. “Take this filth from my house. Lord Dryden will instruct you later as to how they are to be dealt with.”

Lyle and Rostland were dragged from the house by the soldiers.

Once everyone had left, Webb pulled up to the cart of liquors at the side of the room. “This calls for a toast.”

Sophia stepped forward. “Allow me to pour.”

Considering what he’d said about her plain looks, Giles thought better of having her offer the drinks. “I’ll do the honors.”

Her eyes widened. “What, don’t you trust me?” A saucy smile, reminiscent of the Brazen Angel’s, lingered on her lips.

“Utterly and completely,” he lied. “Still, allow me.” After he’d poured two glasses of whiskey and a glass of sherry, he looked back at the two co-conspirators. “Quit gloating. Both of you. It’s becoming annoying.” He offered Sophia her glass, and then Webb his. “I had everything under control.”

Sophia’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Giles muttered something under his breath as he returned to his chair behind the desk. “Yes. Perhaps your interruption was rather timely.”

“And?” Webb asked, a bemused smile on his face.

“Fine. Without the two of you, none of this would have been settled. I needed your help.”

Sophia bounced up and deposited herself in his lap. Wrapping her arms shamelessly around his neck, she kissed him boldly in front of Webb. “You see, now you can’t go to Russia without me. I’m indispensable.”

Giles leaned back. “Russia? What do you know of that?”

“Everything. Including the fact that you were planning to leave me behind.”

She glanced over at Webb, who suddenly had become very interested in the bookshelf behind him.

Giles could well imagine who’d told his bride his secret plans.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I think I’ve just proved how much you need me.”

Arguing with her was useless, Giles knew, when she furrowed her brows up in that peculiar Ramsey slant. There would be no leaving her now.

Pulling her closer into his embrace, he thought perhaps the cold St. Petersburg winter wouldn’t be so bad with Sophia curled up next to him.

“You can go.”

Sophia laughed triumphantly, kissing him anew.

Webb coughed and got up from his chair. “I think I’ll leave you two alone.” As he approached the door it opened, nearly hitting him in the face.

Lily rushed in. “Sophia,” she asked. “Have you seen Webb?”

Webb poked his head just out from behind the door and shook it furiously, holding up his hand to stave off the girl’s discovery of his whereabouts.

Giles grinned. “Why, yes, Lily. He’s right behind the door.”

Later that same afternoon Lord and Lady Fischer arrived at Byrnewood to offer felicitations to the new couple and make an announcement of their own. The anxious lady all but towed her husband into the sitting room where everyone was gathered.

“I had word this morning from my dearest Dorlissa,” she said, waving a piece of paper in her hand. “She’s married! And to your good friend, the Duke of Stanton.”

Sophia and Giles exchanged bemused glances.

“You’ll have to extend our best wishes to the happy couple,” Giles offered.

Lady Fischer settled on the sofa. “You can extend them to my daughter, the Duchess of Stanton, in person. Her note says they will be stopping here at Byrnewood this very afternoon.”

Sophia plastered her most gracious hostess face on, preparing to endure an entire afternoon of Lady Fischer’s gloating.

“So you’ve forgiven her?” Lady Larkhall teased.

“Forgiven her?” Lady Fischer asked, her tone incredulous. “What ever for?”

“For eloping,” Lady Dearsley pointed out, sending strained looks at both her sisters, who had eloped in their wilder youths. “It leaves such a question of decency about the marriage.”

“There was nothing indecent about this situation,” Lady Fischer sniffed. She reached over and selected a cake from a nearby tray. “The duke, such a gentleman and so concerned about Dorlissa’s reputation, insisted they take a chaperon, and I have you to thank for that. When you cruelly threw out Mrs. Langston, the duke asked her to accompany them to Scotland to add a measure of respectability to the arrangement. They even took the parson to make sure there was no doubt as to the validity of this marriage.”

Sophia straightened up. “Emma? She’s with the duke and Dorlissa?”

“Why, yes,” Lady Fischer said. “Such a lovely woman and such a good example for Dorlissa.”

Giles leaned over and whispered into his wife’s ear. “I told you Mrs. Langston would land on her feet.”

For the next few hours the family endured Lady Fischer’s descriptions of the duke’s properties. Giles egged her on by correcting her mistakes and adding greatly to the duke’s holdings, until the lady’s eyes glowed in rapture and awe at the detailed accounts of each of the houses.

Just before supper the Stanton carriage rolled up to Byrnewood.

Lady Fischer could barely contain herself as her daughter bounded into the room, her face glowing with marital bliss.

“Mother!” the new bride cried out. “I didn’t expect you here.”

“Where else would I be when I knew you would be stopping here first?” Lady Fischer held her daughter at arm’s length to examine her. “Or should I be calling you
Your Grace
? Oh, I’ve been practicing saying it for a fortnight now. Your Grace. How I love the sound of it.”

Giles looked up at the door and found Monty and the young Reverend Harel smiling at this happy reunion. His friend could grin now, because he didn’t yet know what his new mother-in-law had planned for him.

“But, Mother,” Dorlissa said, looking back toward the doorway. “Why would you call me that?”

“Your Grace? Why shouldn’t I? I might be your mother, but you’re a duchess now.”

“A duchess?” Dorlissa frowned. “I’m not a duchess.”

“Of course you are. The Duchess of Stanton. That’s what happened when you got married, you silly girl.”

Monty and the Reverend stepped forward, almost in unison. But it wasn’t Monty who wrapped his protective arm around the confused Dorlissa, it was Reverend Harel.

“Get your hand off the duchess,” Lady Fischer demanded, swatting the Reverend’s offending arm with her fan.

“He hasn’t got his hands on the duchess, my lady,” Monty corrected.

“Not the duchess?” Lady Fischer wailed. “How can this be? You’re married. Why wouldn’t Dorlissa be the duchess?”

“Because I didn’t marry Dorlissa. Your daughter married Reverend Harel.” Monty paused for a moment, a wide smile on his face. “Please allow me to introduce you to my bride.” With a wide sweep and bow, he stepped out of the doorway.

Framed in the opening stood Emma, the new Duchess of Stanton, resplendent in a brightly colored dress, fur-lined wrap, and what Giles might have guessed were a good portion of the Stanton jewels at her neck, wrists, and ears.

The room fell so quiet, it seemed to Giles that everyone had forgotten to breathe. Including him.

Everyone but Lady Fischer, who sank to her knees and broke out in a flood of tears. “You faithless woman,” she shot at Emma. “I offered you a job in my house, and this is how you repay me? By stealing my Dorlissa’s groom?”

Emma smiled and wrapped her arm around Monty’s. “You could say I had a better offer.”

“R
eally, Lord Trahern,” the English ambassador to Russia said, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I was surprised to see that you brought your wife with you to St. Petersburg. Isn’t that highly unusual in these cases?”

“My wife is highly unusual. Besides, I thought she offered a brilliant cover.” Amused more than annoyed by the man’s patronizing tone, Giles watched the whirling crowd of Russian nobles. Princes, princesses, grand dukes, and generals gathered this evening to celebrate the fiftieth year of their Empress’s arrival in Mother Russia. The gilded room glittered with the rich fabrics and jewels of Russia’s elite.

What Giles didn’t tell the less-than-discreet man was that his wife was his best ally in the tempestuous tides of Russian politics. She’d already charmed most of the men at court, as well the cagey old Empress herself.

“Yes, I suppose that might work, but . . The man shook his head as if he didn’t quite agree with the notion.

Giles might not agree either, and he knew Dryden had his reservations about the situation, but what else could he do? Leaving Sophia home wasn’t an option. He knew she would just follow him, and then there’d be hell to pay when she found him.

No, he’d taken her as his wife and his partner.

Though perhaps it was better that she’d stayed in their apartments tonight, he thought as he looked over at the enormous tables of food and enjoyed the smell of ham and fish filling the air.

Lately even the slightest odor sent her racing for her chamberpot.

The doctor had advised them that the sickness would pass in a month or so, then in another five months the first Trahern heir would arrive.

Yes, he thought, it was better she stayed in bed and got some rest.

“I say,” the ambassador commented, “have you ever seen the likes of such a creature?”

Giles glanced across the room. Parting the crowd was an elegantly dressed woman, clad entirely in black. In a room filled with white and gold and pink frothy dresses, the stark black costume caused quite a stir.

He recognized her in an instant and didn’t know whether to be angry that she wasn’t back in bed resting or bemused by the attention she attracted.

Her bare arms glowed against the dark fabric, while diamonds sparkled at her wrists and neck. Her towering, powdered-black wig twinkled with strings of white brilliants, like stars on a clear night set against the deep, dark mysteries of the heavens.

People whispered about who this late arrival could be, for no one could identify the masked lady as she picked her way through the crowd.

The ambassador coughed. “Now, there’s a reason not to bring your wife, young man.”

“Exactly my thought,” Giles answered, caught between the excitement coursing through him and his concern over her risky return to her costumed capers.

What the hell was she up to?

The lady in black made her way through the astonished crowd until she stood in front of Giles and the ambassador.

For the benefit of those nearby, Giles smiled politely. “I believe we’ve met before.”

At this the ambassador’s mouth dropped open in amazement. He looked first at Giles, then back at the woman before them.

“Have we?” She tipped her head and studied Giles. “I think I would remember such an acquaintance,” her voice purred.

The floral scent of her perfume, the one that ravaged his senses with its sensual promise, surrounded them.

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Does this help?” he murmured, more than willing to play her game.

She shook her head. “Sorry, but I don’t recall the introduction. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m looking for my escort.” She went to step away from him.

Giles caught her by the elbow. “I think you’ve found him.”

At this, she laughed. Bringing up a pair of quizzing glasses, she peered through them, studying him from the top of his dark hair down past his black frock coat and along the lines of his tight breeches. Her devilishly bright gaze strayed back up to his groin. “I suppose you will do.”

In a court used to the lustful gaze of their Empress, no one seemed shocked at this flagrant behavior—in fact, they quite enjoyed it. However, the more staid English ambassador started to cough.

Seeing how she enjoyed herself, Giles joined in her game. Besides, her antics were giving the pompous ambassador a case of jealous apoplexy, as the stuttering man watched Giles win over this beauty with barely a word.

“Perhaps you could use some air?” Giles suggested.

The masked woman smiled. “I have a delightful balcony in my room. The night breeze there is quite invigorating, if you dare try it.” She reached inside her bodice and pulled a silken ribbon from between her breasts. Attached to it was a key. She swung it before him. “Join me if you are of a mind. But don’t tarry, because I do so hate to be kept waiting.”

Giles held out his hand, and she dropped the silver key into his open palm.

She turned and strolled from the room like a dangerous feline.

Giles shrugged his shoulders at the ambassador and followed the Brazen Angel back to their suite of rooms.

Once inside with the door bolted, they caught each other in a crushing embrace, their mouths fusing in a hot, heated kiss. In a mad rush, they removed each other’s clothing.

“And here I thought I’d lost you,” he said between kisses. “I thought you’d left me.”

“Who do you think I am?” she asked.

“A woman I searched for sometime ago. I last saw her in London and thought I would never find her again.”

She purred softly in the back of her throat and shifted her body closer to his. “Maybe you just didn’t know where to look,” she answered. A sly smile curved her lips as her hips rocked gently against his hard manhood. “If you like, I could help you.”