Scandal By The Ton (12 page)

The viscount drove straight to the Foreign Office, where Grenville informed him that Napoleon's army had defeated the Austrian troops at Marengo, Italy "It's a tall order, but we want to advise Austria not to sign a peace treaty with France. If they do, it will be an end to the second coalition, I'm afraid."

"Will my liaison be our envoy, John Hookham Frere, as before?"

"Yes, but not in Lisbon. Frere has a network of spies reporting from all over Europe. The clandestine meeting place is Paris. We've arranged for you to sail at midnight on the
Indefatigable
."   

"Very good, my lord, I will convey the wishes of the British Government."

Lord Royston drove home to Curzon Street to pack for his journey. He took a late lunch and was surprised when his brother Michael joined him.

"I didn't expect you to be home from Hertfordshire so quickly. Things not quite going according to Hoyle with Lady Julia?"

"Hoyle is an authority on gaming," Nick pointed out.

"Since love is the greatest gamble of all, I thought it rather apt."

"I was recalled. I'm sailing at midnight."

"This war with France has been dragging on for years. I'm tempted to buy a commission in the Dragoons or perhaps the Warwickshire 6th Foot. Both have those smart red uniforms."

Michael's suggestion made Nick catch his breath. He didn't want his young brother fighting in the French war, but he was a man and the decision his. "War entails more than wearing fancy uniforms. They choose red so the blood won't show. Your friend, Prince William, is only
honorary
colonel of the 6th Foot. He's not likely to see any real fighting."

"Speaking of William, we're invited to an entertainment at Devonshire House tonight. It's white tie, may I borrow yours?"

"You may, since I won't need it where I'm going."

Nicholas made his way to the library, selected a sheet of notepaper and picked up his pen.

Dearest Lady Julia:

Forgive my abrupt departure. I was unexpectedly recalled to London early this morning.

Upon my return from the Continent, I intend to claim the forfeit you owe me.

Rest assured that all your secrets are safe with me, at least for the present.

Nicholas.

That night, on his way to the Pool of London where the
Indefatigable
lay anchored, Nick paid a call at Berkeley Square. He handed Hastings his calling card and thought he saw a flicker of amusement when he asked to see Dorothy Ashridge.

Upstairs, Dottie greeted him with surprise. "Lord Royston, do have a seat. For some unfathomable reason, I imagined you to be in Hertfordshire."

Nicholas grinned. "And so I was in Hertfordshire, thoroughly enjoying myself, until I was recalled to London this morning." He took an envelope from his pocket. "Would you be kind enough to give this to Lady Julia when she returns?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Royston."

Nick hesitated. "Yesterday, I had occasion to meet Lady Shelborne's friend, Henry Fauconburg, who was shooting in my woods." He cleared his throat. "He made a point of informing me that he would soon be my neighbor."

"Ha! Fauconburg is quite delusional. He considers himself a game hunter, but I am well aware that it is Ashridge Place he has in his gun sights."

"So long as he doesn't have you in his gun sights. Dottie, I want to caution you to be careful."

"My dear fellow, don't look so grim. My demise will avail him naught. When I made out my will, I bequeathed my Hertfordshire estate to my granddaughter."

Royston was surprised, though he didn't allow it to show. "It's none of my business, but is it possible that Lady Shelborne is unaware of this? When I took Claire to the theatre she casually mentioned that Ashridge would be hers someday."

"Poor Claire. She's in for such a rude awakening. And perhaps sooner is preferable to later. She's at some grand entertainment at Devonshire House tonight. When she returns I shall consider it my duty to dispel her delusions of grandeur."

"I must be off." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Promise to take care of yourself."

"Good morning, Claire. I fully expected that the Devonshire House entertainment would be an all-night affair, so I thought I'd join you for breakfast. I deem it an ideal setting to be formally introduced to your gentleman friend."

Claire was disconcerted to see her mother waiting at the top of the stairs as she and Henry made their bleary-eyed way across the entrance hall at the crack of dawn. At Devonshire House the dancing ended at midnight so the guests could indulge the twin vices of drinking and gaming.

Dottie hid her amusement as the pair managed to ascend the stairs. "You look a bit green about the gills. No doubt a full English breakfast would make your gorge rise. I think perhaps your sitting room would be the better choice for introductions to your friend." Dottie led the way.

Claire was determined to assert her authority. "Allow me to introduce Lord Henry Fauconburg, who is more than a friend. We are to be married."

"Surely an engagement comes before marriage. You don't want to put the cart before the horse." She explained to Henry, "An engagement allows you time to see if you are suited, before you take the final plunge, and endow her with all your worldly goods."

His smile was more like a grimace. "I am delighted to meet you, Lady Ashridge."

"Oh, I'm not a lady, I'm far from it. I always believed my daughter would make a grand second marriage. An Earl of the Realm with a great estate is exactly what Claire needs, since she won't be inheriting Ashridge Place."

Dead silence fell over the room.

"What the devil do you mean?" Claire demanded.

"I've willed the Hertfordshire estate to Julia, but since I have an extremely generous nature, I have decided to leave you this house in Berkeley Square."

"You cannot be serious!" Claire protested.

"Perfectly serious, my dear. My instincts are usually infallible."

Fauconburg cleared his throat. "I shall take my leave and allow you to talk in private. We all need our rest."

The moment they were alone, Claire rounded on her mother. "You vicious old harridan! The country estate in Hertfordshire, as well as this Mayfair house, is little enough reward for putting up with you all these years. I shall inherit them from you, and in turn Julia will inherit them from me. We must make an appointment with your attorney, Benjamin Solomon, and get your will changed!"

"You are becoming hysterical, Claire. Do sit down while I explain a few things to you. Fauconburg's property in the far reaches of Northern Durham is mortgaged to the hilt and provides little income. Once married, a wife's property becomes her husband's. Do you believe for one moment that he would be generous enough to bequeath Ashridge Place to Julia?"

"All you think about is Julia. I am your
daughter
. How can you spite me like this?"

"Someone has to think of Julia. You never have. Claire, you are selfish to the core. Not only are you an abysmal daughter, you are a wretched mother. I'm being more than generous to you, but if you don't want Berkeley Square, I won't force it upon you."

Claire pressed her lips together and swallowed the curses that threatened to spew from her throat. She knew that if she gave further vent to her feelings she would be in danger of losing everything.

"You look haggard. I'll go upstairs and allow you to get your beauty sleep."

The following day, Claire received a letter from Henry. She pushed away a feeling of foreboding, as she opened the envelope and read:

Lady Shelborne:

It is with deep regret that I must withdraw from our engagement. It saddens me that you have misrepresented yourself as a widow of considerable means in order to procure a noble title.

Since no formal announcement of our intended union has been proclaimed, we will both be spared a great deal of embarrassment from friends, family, and Society at large. It will be assumed that we are no longer a couple because of the age difference.

Fauconburg

Claire stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle a shriek. His last sentence added insult to injury. She was enraged at Fauconberg. His accusation was not to be borne. But she laid the greater blame for this devastating dismissal at her mother's feet, where it squarely belonged.

She ran upstairs to Dottie's parlor, and found Dora serving her mother afternoon tea. "Leave us," she ordered curtly. Claire brandished the letter, crumpled in her fist. Through clenched teeth she said, "You will be happy to hear that the Earl of Fauconburg has withdrawn from our engagement!"

"I am indeed. But you're the one who should be happy. You've had a miraculous escape."

"Your evil plan succeeded. You said those things deliberately to destroy any chance I had of marriage."

"If you will but think for a moment, Claire, the only evil plan was Fauconburg's. He would never be faithful to a wife who was fifteen years older, and the moment you inherited this house in Mayfair, he would mortgage it to the hilt, as he has his own estate. Mark my words, within a month he will have found another woman of property to pursue."

"I will never forgive you for depriving me of my rightful inheritance, you hateful old crone."

Dottie sighed. "I shall try to soldier on without your forgiveness, Claire."

For the rest of the day, Lady Shelborne paced the floors of Berkeley Square, needing to vent her spleen. Finally, she made her way to Julia's spacious bedchamber and as she looked about, venom for her daughter almost choked her. She fully believed that Julia and Dottie continually conspired against her.

She threw open the doors of her daughter's wardrobe with the intent of confiscating the new, unsuitable clothes that Dottie had provided. Her frustration mounted when she realized that Julia must have taken her new outfits with her to Hertfordshire. All that hung in the wardrobe were the dresses that Claire herself had chosen for her. She slammed the doors shut, and gazed about the chamber. When her eyes fell on the bookcases that lined an entire wall, she knew she had found her weapon.

Lady Shelborne rang for Dora.

"In preparation for Julia's return, I want this room cleaned from top to bottom. See that the carpet is brushed and the furniture polished. And while you're at it, I want you to get rid of all these dusty old books."

Chapter Thirteen

At Ashridge Place, Julia took advantage of her solitary state by writing without interruption. On warm, sunny days she wrote outside, then after dinner she wrote in the library. She took a break each evening with a walk in the garden, accompanied by Luna, and these were the times when her thoughts were filled with Nicholas Royston. Deprived of his daily presence, she missed him fiercely. She knew she was more than halfway in love with him, and had been ready to consider marrying him, when Fate had stepped in and he had learned her secret identity.

Her feelings about her situation were complex. Julia was not ashamed of being Ann Onymous and writing
Scandal by the Ton.
But at the same time, she certainly felt guilty about inadvertently using Nick Royston's name in the gossip column, and keeping her identity hidden from him after they became romantically involved. If she had confessed and begged him to forgive her, there would have been a chance that he would be generous enough to do so. But the fact that he had immediately returned to London without saying goodbye, clearly showed that it was over between them.

The moonlight and the night-scented flowers were a constant reminder of the intimate hours they had spent together. "If only I'd given up writing the column before I met Nicholas, we'd still be together," she told Luna. "Why does wisdom only come when it's too late?"

By the end of that week, Julia had completed part one of her book, which dealt with Elizabeth Hardwick's first marriage. It had been arranged by the groom's family in Debyshire with the threat of blackmail. Robert Barlow was a sickly boy, and Bess became everything to him: mother, nurse, friend, and companion, everything except wife. Bess cared for him faithfully in the year they had together before Robert died of consumption.

Julia had no difficulty writing the poignant story of Elizabeth's first marriage. Their brief union had never been consummated, and her heroine had become a virgin widow.

It was part two of her book that Julia worried about. Bess would return to London and become lady-in-waiting to Frances, Duchess of Suffolk, and the niece of King Henry the Eighth. After a relentless pursuit by William Rogue Cavendish, they indulged in a passionate sexual affair that eventually led to marriage.

Julia knew that to make her writing convincing, she must experience passion.
If only Nicholas had made love to me, I would no longer be totally ignorant about sexual matters. My virginity is an absolute hindrance to me!

She wondered where on earth she could learn about the things she needed to know, and mentally went over her short list of female friends. Julia's mother had encouraged her to become friends with Lavinia's daughter, Sarah, who was a sweet girl, but since she was only fourteen years old, they had few interests in common. Her other friend was Charlotte Fane, who lived nearby in Berkeley Square. They both loved to read and spent many happy hours together in book stores and at the public lending library. But to say that Charlotte was plain of face was being generous, and Julia was absolutely sure that her friend had had no sexual encounters.