Lady Adventuress 01 - His Wayward Duchess (28 page)

“So they are,
” Holly beamed. “Very good, Mr Rundell.”

“And you
would like a replica made? But, Your Grace, I would advise you that it might not be a very sound idea to wear a replica, we could…”

Holly shook her head. “I beg your pardon, Mr
Rundell. I am certain you could produce something of an equal loveliness, and perhaps we could make that our next project? But just now, I do require a replica. As exact as you can make it, and of paste.”

“Paste!” the gentleman exclaimed despite
himself. He had not expected this. The Duchess of Strathavon asking for paste! And a replica. He doubted very much His Grace was in any sort of dire straits, so what would the young woman want with such a thing?

“Just so.
It goes without saying that I would rely on your utter discretion regarding this piece. And I am willing to pay handsomely for the execution.”

“Madam, you may rest every confidence in me, but…” the jeweller trailed off, mortified.
Maybe the girl was being played a prank on – she was little older than his own daughter, after all, and society ladies could be very cutting.

“Mr
Rundell, I cannot explain to you the exact nature of my interest in such a thing, but I must have it,” the young lady said firmly, sensing his hesitation.

Rundell
took a good look at her intelligent eyes and her firmly set mouth, sighed and nodded.

“Excellent,
” Holly said brightly, her mouth curling into another smile. “I shall need it as soon as possible. By nightfall, as it happens.”

“Certainly.”

*

Their next stop was to be Park Lane.

“If we meet any acquaintance, I shall say that I am on my way to see Lady Louisa,” Holly said to Lucy, as she slowed the Phaeton. “But keep your eyes open for anything useful.”

Both women paid
careful attention to the filigree fence surrounding the park, before turning their regard to the house opposite.

“I shall need a dark dress just like that one,” Holly said as they watched a woman exit the house with a basket on one arm.

“That can be easily procured, Lady Strathavon,” Lucy told her as they turned into the park. “It is their uniform.”

Leaving the vehicle in the charge of her groom, Holly then proceeded on a
brisk stroll along the fence, Lucy walking quickly to keep up.

“Are you looking for something particular, ma’am?” asked
the maid, following as the young duchess picked her way through undergrowth.

“Yes. I need to ascertain the spot
exactly opposite Lady Charlotte’s house. I wonder if it might be possible to squeeze through… If I am right, it should be… Yes! Right there opposite that wide elm. I believe there is a sizeable gap in the fence, also.”

“But
even with the maid’s uniform, how will you get into the house? It shall be locked up at so late an hour,” Lucy asked, still astonished at her new employer. Did highborn ladies often get up to such strange antics?

“Then I shall unlock it. It’
s a skill I picked up as a girl. I’m afraid it must be done, and I must be the one to do it to ensure that nothing goes wrong. A lot of innocent people will come to harm if I do not. Though I shall need your friend’s help once I’ve made it inside.

“
Geraldine – she will await you at midnight.”

“Excellent! Dear me, but this will be an exciting night.”

Lucy peered into Holly’s lovely face, framed by greenery, wondering what it was that compelled the duchess to rescue every helpless soul she met.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but why do you wish to help in this matter? It is quite dangerous,” the maid asked
boldly.

“Because there isn’t anyone else who can help
them – or will. I have always thought, Lucy, that even though one cannot change the whole world, one can make it better one act of kindness at a time. It is such things that give people hope.”

Lucy
nodded, wondering how many unfortunates Holly had taken under her wing in the nineteen years of her life.

“
Geraldine warned that the housekeeper, Mrs Maltby, must be avoided at any cost.”

Holly reached out and
squeezed Lucy’s hand. “Thank you,” she said. “I cannot tell you how much I value your help in this – and Geraldine’s.”

*

Deeply frustrated at his ineffectual meeting with Lady Charlotte at Young’s, Strathavon took refuge at his club as he contemplated what to do next.

He had been intrigued to discover that Holly had dressed and gone on some unknown erra
nd well before breakfast, but he’d been too preoccupied with Avonbury to give much thought to her possible destination.

He had just comfortably settled
into a leather armchair, a glass of good brandy at his elbow and the Evening Post in hand, when Lord Bettenhall sidled up to him.

“Ah, there you are, Strathavon
. I was wondering if all the fellows had decided to quit London at once, for there’s not been a soul here all day. Avonbury, at least, is accounted for. He said that he was going to the steam bath in Portman Square – he’s taken it into his head that it is just the thing to rejuvenate him after all that wine he downed yesterday. Awful blue-devilled he’s been recently. I did try to tell him that it is unlikely the baths can cure an excess of sherry, but he was determined. I’d wager he’ll be in a worse temper when he emerges – all that devilish heat and hellish steam. The whole place is too much of the brimstone to rejuvenate anyone, in my opinion.”

“Then he stayed here as I told him to, last night,” said Strathavon dryly. “I
’ll own this is the first he’s listened to me.”

“He did.
Well, aside from when he left. Said he was off to look for you, but it turned out you were not at home, though her ladyship was awful kind to him.”

“She would be,” sighed the duke.

Bettenhall looked affronted. In fact, he looked as ruffled as the duke had ever seen him. “Now look here, Strathavon, she’s your wife and all, but I hardly think –”

Strathavon found
himself bewildered by Bettenhall’s flustered appearance before he finally understood.

“Lady Strathavon and Avonbury?
That is not what I meant,” he said calmly. “But it is most unlike her to turn away any waifs. And, I assure you, Avonbury can be astonishingly waifish when he is in the doldrums. However, I do not think she would fall in love with him. My wife has more sense.”

“Ah, good.
I would not have liked to challenge you for making such an ill-bred insinuation,” said Bettenhall.

Strathavon was impressed at the loyalty Holly had somehow managed to inspire in the fickle
ton
. How had she done it?

Without a doubt, h
ad she been allowed to join the front, she would have single-handedly proved to be the most formidable force Old Boney could ever hope to face.

He chuck
led and inclined his head to Bettenhall with a great show of irony.

“I expect I would have found it very vexing if you had done. But Holly … Well, I suppose that she has had me
painted as an unrepentant rake all this time. She might just have enjoyed the thought of pistols at dawn.”

*

For supper, they had roast duck, in a rich plum sauce that was the secret genius of the cook.

Strathavon was interested to note that
Holly appeared to have little feeling concerning the exquisite meal, and that her eyes tended to stray to the window, where the sun was setting, casting long shadows in its wake.

After the meal, the duke retreated to his study to attend to some blessedly dull paperwork
. A moment later, Holly appeared at the door, still looking very much up to no good.

Sylvester
leaned back in his chair and considered her. This room was the true source of his comfort and his favourite of the whole house. It was here that he felt most at ease. He had even taken the sartorial liberty of dressing in a comfortably worn blue banyan.

Holly noticed that Strathavon appeared uncharacteristically
tranquil– almost somnolent, and she shifted uneasily, feeling as though she were intruding on a private moment of peace.

“Yes, my dear?” he asked
. “Is there aught I can do for you?”

At those words, Holly thought of several things, the least of which was another of those burning kisse
s, but there was no time for daydreams at present, so she pushed the vision firmly away.

“I wished only to inform you that I am engaged to go to Vauxhall with Lady Louisa and Sir John this evening, for the autumn water music concert. Thus, I shall not be at home.”

“Are you, now?” he asked idly, noting her unease. Something was not right…

“Quite so.”

Strathavon, however, would not be distracted.

“Then I think I shall accompany you. It is only my duty, after all.”

“I shouldn’t trouble you: Sir John does not in the least mind and he enjoys water music.” She smiled sweetly, unmistakably baiting him.

“How fortunate for him, but I must insist. By the
by, I hear my cousin passed through here last night while I was at White’s?”

She raised an eyebrow at the mention of White’s, but made no comment.

“Yes, rather worse for wear, too.”

“You managed a gentleman in his altitudes, all by yourself? I know for a fact that Avonbury gets disagreeably
mopish.”

“Certainly not – I had the servants bring him a pot of your good coffee and a blanket.”

“You did not mind it?”

“Should I have
?”

“As a rule, ladies tend to be
dismayed when presented with gentlemen who are more than a trifle disguised.”

“
I have two brothers who are nearly grown, Sylvester – I’ve had occasion to witness half-cut gentlemen turning up in the parlour. Especially around Christmas, on papa’s good port. It was quite a task, sneaking them past mama and papa so that they might recover in their rooms. At least, unlike your cousin, they are not given to singing.”

Strathavon knew exactly the kind of mischief of which boys of that age were capable, which made him even more impressed by Holly’s unruffled
state. He certainly did not envy their long-suffering parents. Then, her second point appeared to register.

He winced.
“Sing? And was he very talkative, also?”

Holly endeavoured to look exasperated.
“Excessively. I couldn’t make sense of it, but then I did not expect to.”

Strathavon was careful not to let his relief show.

“Ah, Avonbury. He is a very splendid fellow. As I recall, we first truly bonded over his very droll caricatures of our Eton masters. I have told you that he possesses a hidden genius with charcoal.”

Holly shifte
d at that, before seeming to school herself into stillness. “Yes, so I understand.”

“Pardon me, Lady Strathavon,” said Mrs
Willan from the hallway. “There is a young lady come to drop a parcel for you, and also a lad with a delivery from Run –”

“Yes, thank you
, Mrs Willan,” Holly interrupted hastily. “Please see them brought up to my room.”

When the housekeeper had left, Holly
turned back to the duke, who was watching her curiously.

“I’m afraid I really must attend to this. Do excuse me, Sylvester.”

She was gone in a flurry of skirts, leaving behind a delightful scent of orange blossoms.

Strathavon wondered what was in the pa
rcel. She had been very determined to interrupt Mrs Willan…

The maid’s uniform lay spread out on Holly’s bed, while she and Lucy considered it. It was a little too long in the hem, and tight in the chest, but it would have to do.

Holly felt a thrill of excitement shoot th
rough her body. It was all coming together…

“Now I just need to find a way to convince the duke that he hasn’t the least desi
re to go to Vauxhall tonight,” she declared, reaching for the second parcel, which sat at the foot of the bed.

This was
the leather box from Rundell and Bridge and it was the final piece in her plan. Holly carefully opened it and took out an exact replica of the Avonbury emeralds. They sparkled in the candlelight and filled her with a sense of certainty that all would work out in the end.

“It is most remarkable, Lady Strathavon,” breathed Lucy, peering closer, seemingly enchanted by the sparkle.

Remarkable is exactly right, Holly thought.

The
necklace was perfect in its execution. A replica so well made that only the trained eyes of the celebrated ladies of the
ton
would be able to spot the fake, and Holly was certain that Lady Charlotte would be foremost among them. A well-made fake was much more dangerous than a poorly made one, after all.

Pleased, Holly put it back in its box, and called for a bath, craving the rejuvenating power of
scented warm water. She hoped it would help her puzzle out what she ought to do about the duke.

She couldn’t sneak out – he would notice when she did not appear downstairs to depart for the
Water Music. And yet what could she say that would dissuade him from going?

She wondered briefly if she ought to simply invite him along to her escapade. But he would only disapprove, surely. Maybe try to stop her. And be distracting.

He would be so divinely distracting…

In the end, she took the coward’s way out and sent him a message with Lucy telling him that she was feeling
poorly and would have to miss out on the concert after all.

She was still thinking of the matter while
Lucy helped her dress in the maid’s uniform, and pin her long hair beneath a simple white cap.

Lucy looked
the duchess over in approval. She seemed to have come to terms with the more eccentric aspects of her employment in the Strathavon household.

“It will surely pass muster, ma’am.”

“It has to,” Holly said firmly. “It simply has to.”

She left her room and
proceed down the corridor. When she reached the upstairs landing, she stopped abruptly, startling Lucy. It suddenly occurred to her that ‘distracting’ was not such a bad thing after all.

“Just a minute, Lucy.
Please go on downstairs – you need not see me to the door. I shall see you after.”

The maid looked surprised.
“As you wish, ma’am.” She paused and added softly, “Best of luck.”

“Thank you,” Holly returned warmly.

Alone, she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

Turning, she
made her way to the duke’s study. Holly lifted her hand to knock, and hesitated. It was not too late simply to sneak out. He couldn’t stop her.

She
remembered how she felt whenever he was near her – as though she could do anything in the world if only she set her mind to it.

Holly knew something
the duke did not – a secret her husband had kept terribly well hidden from everyone, including himself. His Grace of Strathavon was a rarity among the pampered
ton –
a genuinely kind man. But he was also stubborn, and determined to keep his feelings hidden, most of all from himself.

He would easily choose a life of loneliness to avoid taking a chance on the gamble that was the human heart.

There was nothing for it but to be bold, to startle him out his obstinate doubts. Steeling herself, Holly determined to go on
sans peur et sans reproche.
Fortune, after all, favoured the brave.

*

Strathavon was startled to hear a faint knock on his door so late at night. Who could it be?

Curious, he crossed the room and
looked out into the darkened passage.

Holly stood on the other side,
dressed in what was unmistakably the plain uniform of an upstairs maid, her hair pinned under a ridiculous cap. Contrary to the message she had sent him, she did not look the least bit unwell.

Sylvester narrowed his eyes.
“Whatever is the matter, my dear Holly?” he asked. “I was informed that you are ill. I must say that dress is a very novel choice for a nightgown.” He couldn’t help but notice how tightly the gown was stretched across her delightfully full bosom.

“
Shh!” Holly reprimanded, though there was no one else about. “I am going riding. I find that I am restless. You could come with me, if you wanted? But quietly.”

Strathavon was
somewhat baffled as he gazed into her sparkling eyes.

“Riding? But it is night out.
”

“So it is. What of it? It’s
a perfectly good time – we need not worry about crowds. And it is a very beautiful night! I have looked outside.”

He watched
various emotions play unguardedly across her little expressive face and fought the urge to pull Holly into his study and kiss her.

The lady
, however, seemed unaware of his inner struggle, because she raised an eyebrow, tugging at his sleeve. “Well? Are you coming?”

Was
that the solution to the puzzling behaviour she had exhibited all evening?

Strathavon stared dumbly a moment before letting her pull him out into the corridor.

“There could be ruffians –” he began.

“I promise I’ll keep you safe,” she replied, throwing him an amused look over her shoulder.

“Do you! I’ll hold you to it.”

He procured his coat and, on further consideration
, his pistol, then they called for their horses, ignoring the confusion on the face of the only stable groom on duty.

As they rode out into the chill
y London night, Holly let out a peal of laughter, and spurred her horse down the street. Strathavon had no choice but to follow her as they flew all the way to Hyde Park, no doubt waking every slumbering resident of Park Lane in the process.

At last, under the eaves
of the trees, Holly drew her horse to a halt and waited for the duke to catch up. Strathavon was struck once more by her magnificence: dressed all in black, she was a lithe shadow against the moonlight, her face pale and lovely like some lost fairy queen who’d accidentally stumbled into his world.

She turned and caught him looking at her.

“You are a right infamous hellion, and I only wonder it took me this long to notice it,” he said once he was level with her. “Why, what will London think of galloping horses in the night?”

Holly did not miss the amusement that coloured his ton
e. “They will think it was the Wild Hunt! Or a rowdy new haunting. Does it matter? It was such good fun – I have always wanted to do that.”

She nimbly slid from the saddle and tied up her horse. Strathavon followed suit.

“Then I am pleased to be of service,” the duke said with mock gravity, surprised at his own sense of enjoyment. “But what are we doing here? Wherever we are. And you have yet to explain your dress.” He shifted awkwardly as her horse tried to nibble his shoulder.

“Why, we are in Hyde Park,
Sylvester. Don’t you recognise it? What a silly question to ask,” Holly murmured, peering off into the trees. She lifted the heavy drape of her skirt and crept forward into the hedge.

“More specifically, if you please.”

Fallen twigs cracked underfoot as they picked their way forward.

“We are just outside Park Lane. You’ll see the lights in a moment, just on the other side of the hedge. I checked when I went riding with Verity.”

“What the devil are we doing here?”

If Holly noticed the profanity, she paid it no attention, waving a hand impatiently for him to keep his voice down.

“We are watching. And waiting. That is the house of your friend, Lady Charlotte Holland. But do please try not to make a racket.”

She stopped, parted the greenery in front of them, and motioned to the road beyond and the house in question.

“And why are we watching the house?”

“Because that way we will know when most everyone has gone to bed. Lady Charlotte has gone to the country, and so she ha
d no reason to bring the emeralds with her. Since you had such deplorable luck getting her to surrender the jewels last night, we’ll be getting them back today. This is the ideal place from which to observe.”

“The emeralds,” Strathavon stated blankly. “What do you know about the emeralds? I see my cousin was not so very incomprehensible after all.”

“Not quite,” Holly agreed. “I know that the awful woman has got them, and won’t hear of giving them back. It has Avonbury in despair. I know that you went to demand them last night at Young’s and that she refused you too, though you had probably offered a handsome sum for them.”

“Twenty thousand.
She told me that she had no need of money.” He was feeling very dazed at this strange turn of events. Whatever he had expected, this was not it.

“
I’m not surprised. This is not about money. It is about humiliation. To humiliate Avonbury, and through him, the dowager countess. You see, his mother had once given Lady Charlotte what she perceived as a mortifying and unjust snub. Nothing but vengeance will do for her now.”

“You learned all that from Avonbury?”

“Certainly not. Some of it is from paying attention and keeping my ears open. I am not a gentleman, you see, so I do not rush in with pistols drawn or bank notes at the ready.”

Strathavon ignored this last remark. “And how then do you mean to retrieve these emeralds?” he asked warily.

“We are going to steal them back. It’s quite alright. I have a very sound plan. You see, we will sneak in and replace the necklace with the one in my pocket, a paste replica. I am good at lock-picking.
The Boy’s Own Guide
triumphs again.”

Paste? Replica?
Strathavon decided not to ask the particulars of
that
. It was probably best he didn’t know.

“And how exactly did you procure the dress?”

“The same way I procured directions through the house. My new maid, Lucy, has a friend who works for Lady Charlotte, Geraldine, and, as it happens, she owed Lucy a bit of a favour. At midnight, when the housekeeper’s done her final rounds, Geraldine will unlock the servants’ entrance for us, just there down that little side street. Then we shall go in, and find the emeralds, which are kept in an ebony box in Lady Charlotte’s boudoir.”

“I own, I don’t
really know what to say to that,” sighed Strathavon.

Holly reached out for his sleeve, pulling him nearer.

“Watch for the lights to be dimmed,” she whispered, even though Strathavon was very sure they were the only souls sneaking around Hyde Park at night. If you didn’t count the ruffians. He hoped no one made off with their horses while they attempted Holly’s madcap plan.

Her perfume of sweet oranges
titillated his senses and he found it very difficult to concentrate.

“I am not at all certain that is the best course of action.”

“We can hardly walk up the front door and ask. You oughtn’t fret about it. Imagine Avonbury’s poor mother if she finds out the jewels are gone. And his sister – a proper presentation is so important to a girl entering society.”

Ah.
Avonbury spared his duchess a look in the gloom, though he could not see much of her. “And did it affect your entering society? I don’t suppose you had emeralds.”

He could feel her hesitate, debating whether she should share this private thing with him. He held his breath, hoping more than anything that she would.

“I didn’t. But it isn’t emeralds, or pearls, for that matter. It is meeting the right set of prerequisites so that one feels that one belongs. I don’t suppose you could understand. Such things are very different for gentlemen.”

How long had she felt that way? And had he somehow made it worse when he offered for her?

He wanted very much to reach out and take her hand in his, but he couldn’t make sense of this strange urge, so he did nothing, merely waited for her to continue.

“I didn’t think the manner of one’s prese
ntation was at all a big thing, because I wasn’t brought up to think of presentations. Papa and mama do not think much of society: not when there is scholarship to be conducted. And possibly that it how it ought to be, but the hard truth is that it is not how the world really is.” She paused a moment.

“Fripperies and balls may be silly nonsense, but I have learned better than anyone the true value of them. It is amazing how inconsequent one feels being a pale wallflower surrounded by glittering heiresses. And the irony of it is that the more one is ignored, the more one secretly longs to be noticed,
and the more one hopes to pass unseen, because only mortification could follow as a result of
that
.”