No Marriage of Convenience (30 page)

Riley slowly let out the breath she’d been holding.

Her cousin edged over to the window, then pulled the
curtain back to survey the garden and alleyway behind the house. A few seconds later, he yanked the curtain back in place. “He’s had the place surrounded.” He turned back to Riley, the pistol once again fluttering in his hand as if punctuating every complaining word. “How am I supposed to get out of here now?”

“How could you doubt Mason wouldn’t catch you?”

“Mason, is it?” Stephen’s lip curled. “Your death will serve as a good reminder to your dear Mason that he is a nuisance. And if he cares for you, your death will ensure that he never interferes again.”

He crossed the room and caught her by the arm, his fingers biting into her flesh. When she struggled and started to protest, he laid the muzzle of the gun to her temple and said, “One false move, Cousin, and your grandmother’s servants will have a worse mess to clean up than just these empty boxes.”

Riley settled down—she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t pull the trigger, given his state of agitation and drunkenness, and the longer she delayed that unhappy event, the better her chances were of being rescued.

If only she’d let Mason come upstairs with her. He would have been able to disarm Stephen, but now he was probably mired in the crowd, unable to reach her.

“The only way out now,” Stephen said, “is the front door. And you, my dearest cousin, are my ticket.”

Stephen had his hand on her elbow and the pistol prodding her in the ribs. As a pair, they walked down the stairs and toward the main entrance.

Suddenly the crowd stilled, all eyes watching their descent.

Riley didn’t notice it right away, for she was too busy trying to breathe. She had no doubt that once Stephen gained the streets, he would kill her and make his escape
in the ensuing confusion—his revenge against her and Mason complete.

“’Tis her!” someone said.

“No, it couldn’t be,” another argued.

“But it must be,” a third person added to the noisy disagreement. “Look at that hair, those eyes. She is the very image of Régine.”

There were murmurs of agreement, then someone in the crowd began to clap his hands, and in moments, the entire foyer was sending up a rousing applause.

Stephen stumbled to a stop at the clamor. “What is this?”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea,” she said quite honestly.

Prodding her forward, Stephen continued their march toward the door.

The crowd parted and continued to applaud them. Guests from inside the ballroom surged into the foyer, mobbing it even more.

A woman to the right of Riley said to her companion, “Must be part of the book I haven’t gotten to yet.”

“No, it isn’t, for I finished it just this afternoon, and I don’t recall this chapter,” the lady’s friend commented as if she were watching a production at the Queen’s Gate and not a woman’s life being threatened.

“Maybe there is to be a sequel,” the first woman suggested.

“Oh, I do hope!” her companion said. “It looks quite exciting.”

Stephen’s grip on her arm grew even tighter. “Why are they clapping? What are they doing?”

“I don’t know,” Riley answered.

“I do,” Mason said, stepping out from the crowd to block their path.

The entire room grew silent, except for a few collective sighs from the ladies standing about.

“Get out of my way, Ashlin,” Stephen warned. “Or I will kill her as she stands here.”

“And then what, Cariston?” Mason asked. “Where will you go? What will you do? I’ll tell you—you’ll hang. It is over, man. Let her go and you’ll only be ruined.”

Riley heard Stephen gulp down his next two breaths. What she didn’t want to hear was what he had to say next.

“Then if I am to be ruined, you both will share my shame,” Stephen said. He waved the pistol in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce my cousin, Madame Fontaine.”

“No!” Riley protested. “Stephen, don’t do this.”

“But cousin, I want all the
ton
to know about your illustrious past. Yes, my friends, this young woman is the most notorious whore in all of London—nay, England!”

This announcement was met with disapproving silence, but Riley had the odd sense the crowd’s displeasure was pointed not at her, but at Stephen.

A portly gentleman stepped to Mason’s side. “That is no way to talk about Régine,” he admonished Stephen.

“No, you didn’t hear me,” Stephen said. “This is
Madame Fontaine
. The illegitimate granddaughter of Lady Marlowe.”

Muttered comments followed, and then a brief bit of light applause.

“Please, Stephen,” Riley whispered, “say no more.”

But Stephen continued, since it appeared he had a rapt audience. “My Haymarket cousin has been living with Lord Ashlin—without the benefit of the parson’s blessing.”

“How kind it was of Ashlin to take her in,” an older
lady standing just a few feet from Stephen commented to her companion.

That woman smiled at Riley as if she were the luckiest girl alive. “The Ashlins always know how to take a stand. To take such a terrible risk on a lady’s behalf.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “You are so lucky,” she told Riley.

“Don’t you see,” Stephen urged his onlookers, his voice rising to a fevered pitch. “She is a whore, to be reviled. Shunned. Why are you looking at me? Look at
her
—she is nothing but a dirty bit of baggage.”

“I think I’ve heard quite enough, Cariston,” a young man Riley recognized from the Everton ball said as he stepped out and joined Mason and the other man. “It would be my honor to assist you, Ashlin.”

“Honor?” Stephen snarled, pointing the pistol directly at Mason. “This man has no honor. And he will die like the plaguing dog that he is.”

Riley no longer cared what happened to herself, only that Mason was in danger. She spun and knocked Stephen’s arm upward, the gun firing wildly, the shot blasting into the ceiling, sending down a rain of plaster.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

“My God,” the portly man to Mason’s left complained. “That pistol was loaded! Demmed fool thing to bring to a party.”

Mason surged forward, as did his youthful friend, and they caught Stephen by his arms.

The man struggled and fought wildly, calling out more of his ugly disclosures. “She’s an actress, a whore. She isn’t fit to serve any one of us, let alone stand amongst us.”

Just then, McElliott came dashing through the front door with three members of the watch right behind him.

“I heard the shot, my lord,” McElliott said. “Is everyone all right?”

“We’re fine,” Mason told him. He handed Stephen over to the watch.

As Riley’s cousin continued to struggle, jewels started to fall out of his pockets.

“Looks like I’ll need to add thievery to the charges,” McElliott commented. “Come along, milord. You should find life in Botany Bay quite to your liking.”

“Wait,” Riley said. She turned to Mason. “He has proof of my parents’ marriage. The papers are in his jacket.”

A quick search turned up the evidence, which was in turn handed to Riley.

“Those are mine,” Stephen protested. “It is all mine!” he continued to say, even as the watch carted him away.

With Stephen gone, Mason caught Riley in his arms and kissed her. This was followed by wild applause. The guests surged around them, congratulating Riley and adding their well-wishes.

“Why do they keep calling me Régine?” she asked Mason, as he pulled her into another embrace—a move which was met with even wilder applause.

“I suppose I should explain,” Mason told her. “I tried to tell you earlier—I suppose I should have asked first.”

“Asked what?”

Before Mason could answer, a young girl, probably in her first Season, edged forward. She pulled a small, narrow volume out of her reticule. “Lord Ashlin, Madame Fontaine, may I be so bold as to ask you to sign my copy?”

Riley looked down at the title on the book.

The Secret Diaries of Régine, the Illustrious Madame Fontaine
.

“What the—” Riley said, having a sneaking suspicion she didn’t want to know.

“It was your idea,” Mason said, grinning at her. “You told me to write your life story—so I did.”

R
iley snatched the book out of Mason’s hands, as their carriage rolled away from her grandmother’s house. “I can’t believe you did this,” she said.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I think you should be honored. I’ve gone through three printings already, and the fourth is nearly sold out as well.”

“That many copies?” Riley took a deep breath.

Mason nodded. “And since Freddie invested heavily in the printing shop, I’ve made a small fortune.”

“A fortune?” Riley liked the sound of that.

“Yes, enough to pay off the worst of my debts. Mrs. Pindar was quite vexed when I came to redeem my vowels.” He paused for a second. “You see, I couldn’t come to you as a pauper. You worked so hard at everything, you made me realize that I’d fallen into worse habits than my father or Freddie. I needed to follow my industrious ancestors and do something a little more practical if I was to restore our fortunes.”

“You prideful, foolish man. I didn’t care if you were a pauper or an Earl. I just wanted to spend my life with you.”

“I know, but I needed to do this. To pay my own way.
You could say you shamed me into being an honorable man.”

“By calling me Régine and selling this exaggerated version of my life story,” Riley laughed. “I just wish I’d thought of it first.”

“You did. You suggested I write your story the day you left me.”

Riley caught his hands and held them. “I don’t care how you did it, as long as it means we can—” She didn’t care anymore about propriety. “As long as we can be together always.”

“I want nothing less,” he declared, pulling her into his arms. “I haven’t wanted anything else since the first moment I laid eyes on you. And now I have the means to declare my heart.” He got down on one knee in the cramped confines of the carriage. “Riley Fontaine, I love you with all my heart. Will you be my wife?”

“Yes,” she whispered, almost afraid to say the words too loud and break this magical spell.

He brought his lips to hers and sealed their bargain, this time with more than a handshake.

“Mason, I never sought money or fortune or titles—I only wanted you,” she said after some time.

“I know that, and it is exactly why I had to come to you with something in my pockets other than lint.”

She shook her head at him. What did she care about his reasons for delaying? He’d finally made his declaration of love.

Yet there remained one other problem—the reason for their hasty return to Ashlin House.

“What do you think happened to the girls?” Riley asked.

“And Cousin Felicity,” Mason added. “She told me this morning that Lord Chilton was sending his carriage over
for them at half past nine. Given the way Cousin Felicity hounded and hammered me to give the girls their Season, you’d think she’d ensure they made it to their coming-out ball.”

The carriage pulled to a stop before the house, every room in the place alight.

Mason bounded down from the carriage and up the steps. Riley followed, hot on his heels.

Inside the foyer, a distraught Belton sat on a chair, his face buried in his hands. “In all my years,” he was muttering. “And never have I seen such a disgrace!”

“What is, man? What has happened?” Mason asked the butler.

Belton nodded toward a silver salver resting on the end of the balustrade. Three sealed notes sat atop the tray. “I don’t know how this has happened, but this is all that has been found of them.”

Riley and Mason exchanged worried glances, and then Mason picked up the first note. He turned it over, where the familiar Delander crest was emblazoned in the wax seal.

“It’s from Del,” Mason told her, as he broke it open and unfolded the page. “I can’t imagine what—” Mason stopped in mid-sentence. “I don’t believe this!”

“What?” Riley rose up on the tips of her toes and read the note.

The note was signed with one scrawled word:
Del.

Riley and Mason just stared at each other.

“Did you know about this?” Mason asked.

Riley blinked and glanced over the note again, trying to let the shock of it wear off. “I knew Bea was in love with the Viscount, but I never thought
this
would happen.”

First Louisa and her nobleman, and now Bea and Del.

“Oh, there’s more, my lord,” Belton said, shaking his head in dismay.

Mason picked up the second note.

Riley looked down at the seal. “Who is it from?”

“Captain Hardy,” Mason told her, as he opened the second missive. “Now, why would he leave a—”

This time, Riley didn’t wait for Mason to finish; she leaned over his arm and read along.

“I don’t believe this!” Mason said. “I mean, I don’t have any objection to his marrying Maggie, but when did she ever meet Hardy?”

Riley shrugged. For a moment they both considered the possible circumstances, until Riley started to put a few pieces together.

“Oh, dear heavens,” Riley said. “The Everton ball. They met on the steps outside. I thought the man’s uniform was just a costume, not that he was truly in the Navy!”

“And don’t think Del didn’t help Hardy along,” Mason said. “Those two were always thick as thieves when we were schoolmates, though I’d thought Hardy had grown out of such antics.”

Riley started to giggle.

“What is so funny?” Mason asked.

“Well, if the Captain’s ship is ever in trouble, they can send Maggie over to the other side. She could sink an entire fleet with just one misstep.”

Mason laughed, glancing down at the note again. “I can’t begrudge him or Del. If each has found the woman he loves, I understand not wanting to wait even a day to be with her.”

Riley put her hand on his arm and smiled up at him.

“There is one more note, my lord,” Belton said.

“And so there is,” Mason said. “Perhaps it is from Northard, apologizing for his actions.”

But the note, they soon discovered, was not from Louisa’s beau, but from Lord Chilton.

“What the devil would he want?” Mason asked as he pried open the seal.

The note dropped from Mason’s hand, fluttering to the floor. He stared at Riley obviously in as much shock as she.

“He carried her off? Lord Chilton?” Riley started to giggle anew. “Because he feared Aggie was going to abscond with her fortune? Oh, what is he going to say when
he finds out Cousin Felicity has no money?”

“I have no idea, but it will be better that Chilton finds out than if Felicity had gone and married Mr. Pettibone,” Mason said.

“More than you can know,” Riley muttered under her breath.

But it was Belton who spoke up and surprised them both. “What would make you think, my lord, that Lady Felicity is without means?”

“Well, of course she doesn’t have any means, Belton. She’s lived with the family for as long as I can remember.”

“She’s lived here only because she didn’t want to live alone in her own house.”

“Her own house?” Mason asked.

“Yes, sir,” Belton told him. “The one she inherited from her husband.”

“Cousin Felicity was married?” Riley and Mason both asked at once.

Belton stared at them. “Of course, to Lord Blanden, your mother’s cousin. When he died, his will placed Lord Chilton as the trustee of her dower estates and annual income because Lord Blanden didn’t trust your father to watch over Felicity’s interests. Besides, I doubt Lady Felicity knows the extent of her wealth—which is probably better, given her rather…spendthrift nature.” Belton studied him for a moment. “I thought you knew.”

Mason shook his head. “Obviously not. All this time, and Cousin Felicity chose to live with us in poverty.”

“This is her home, milord,” Belton said. “I won’t be surprised if she tries to convince Lord Chilton to move in.”

“It’s not as if we don’t have the space now,” he laughed, settling down on the steps. “Well, I guess I won’t
have to write my second book—I can get Cousin Felicity to repay me for her clothing bills.”

Laughing, Riley couldn’t help asking, “And what is your second book going to be?”

“Another bestseller.
The Unabridged Diaries of Freddie St. Clair.”

“Freddie kept diaries?”

Mason nodded. “Found them when I was looking for some paper to write on. They will probably sell better than the sequel about you I’ve already drafted.”

Riley sat down beside him. It was truly too much to take in all at once. After a few moments she asked, “So what does happen next in my installment?”

Mason grinned at her. “Perhaps you should read it.”

“I’d rather you enlightened me.”

With that, he rose and swept her up into his arms. “Belton, order my carriage sent around.”

“Yes, milord,” Belton said. “And the destination?”

“Gretna Green,” Mason said, gazing down at Riley with eyes filled with love. “I have a scandal to complete.”