Spring Fires (44 page)

Nicholai almost smiled. "Tell them that I am going out to look for rooms of my own,
ma petite.
Explain that my pride won't allow me to abuse their gracious hospitality a day longer."

"You are
leaving
me?" Gabrielle cried.

There was no sense inundating her with everything at once. "I am moving to rooms of my own. You understand, don't you? I need to be independent. I will see you—"

"Tonight? Have you forgotten the concert at Vauxhall Gardens? You did give to me your word, Nicky!"

That might be the best place, he mused, for him to tell her that this had all been a sad mistake. That he was leaving for Philadelphia as soon as possible and she would have to find another knight in shining armor to take on her quest.

"I'll see you tonight
,"
Nicholai said in a softer tone. "Don't look for me until after the concert, though."

With an effort, Gabrielle gave him her most dazzling smile. "Until tonight I will wait, then,
mon amour,"
she murmured, reaching out to run soft fingertips down his cheek. Gracefully, she turned and swept from the room, thinking that tonight would be the perfect time and place to cast a new spell over him. What had been accomplished once could be repeated... particularly when it was so absolutely imperative.

Nicholai's eyes fell on an open landau that had paused in front of the Whitloaf mansion. There were two female occupants—one with titian hair and a diminutive appearance, who was pointing at the house and saying something to her companion. The other girl—Nicholai stared, unable to breathe. It couldn't be possible. The other girl looked exactly like Lisette, from her graceful bearing and familiar gestures to the golden curls that tumbled down her neck. It was impossible! As he contemplated sprinting downstairs to the street, the landau started forward again and turned the corner of Berkeley Square.

White-hot frustration seared Nicholai's heart. Dazedly, he sat down on the bed until calm and reason filtered back in. Of course, it couldn't have been Lisette... the idea that she could be in London was ludicrous enough, but even if that were possible, she certainly wouldn't fail to contact
him,
and spend her time instead riding around with a strange woman! Obviously, he missed her more than he'd guessed. The vision Nicholai had just had must have been like a mirage in the desert....

* * *

"Mistress Jones, I am so pleased!" exclaimed Devon as the stately dressmaker helped Lisette out of the last gown. "You have worked wonders, and in so little time!"

"Well, this was rather a crisis, wasn't it?" Dolly Jones replied generously. "Besides, when Fraulein Amstetten wears my creations out in London society, it will prove my talents once again, not only to potential customers, but also to the French couturiers who surround me here on Bond Street."

"Are they still looking down their noses at you?" exclaimed Devon. "After ten years?"

"I'm an American! Not only that, I married a British soldier during the Revolutionary War and returned to England with him, so that makes me a traitor in some people's eyes. British women have begun to patronize my shop as word of my talents spreads, but I find that a great deal of my business comes from displaced Europeans like our beautiful Fraulein Amstetten." Mistress Jones gave a smile to Lisette, who was looking rather uncomfortable as she stood in her new batiste-and-lace chemise and waited for the dressmaker to finish her discourse. "The French women especially find me something of a novelty. After all, the rest of the couturiers are the same ones who plied their trade in Paris! I also suspect that they like me because I don't have any interest in their French gossip. They feel free to chatter about their friends in my presence." She paused to smile slightly and wink.

"Well," murmured Lisette in the lilting accent she had been practicing for weeks, "I cannot thank you enough for coming to my aid. When I fled our castle in Austria, I had to leave everything behind... except for the few pieces of jewelry I was able to fit into my reticule...."

Devon chimed in with a sigh. "My friend has been through a trying ordeal, Mistress Jones, especially in light of the sort of life she has led until now. Giselle was brought up to take luxury for granted."

It took all of Lisette's self-control to refrain from giggling. "Yes, I'm afraid it's quite true. That is why I couldn't bear to mingle socially here in London until I acquired the sort of gowns and accessories I am used to."

Dolly Jones had been listening in rapt fascination. Obviously this was a lady of great wealth and breeding. Her English, though charmingly accented, was flawless! If she remained in London, Giselle Amstetten could turn out to be a veritable gold mine. "I'm truly honored that I've been able to assist you, fraulein. I hope that my work pleases you—and if there is anything that I can do to make your adjustment to this new culture easier, please don't hesitate to ask!"

Lisette managed a gracious smile. "At this moment, all I desire is a gown to wear when I leave this dressing room, dear Mistress Jones."

Flustered, the woman rushed out and returned seconds later with an exquisite batiste petticoat trimmed with frothy lace, a snowy fichu, a morning gown striped in leaf green and white, plus lacy knitted stockings, satin slippers, and one of the hats that a nearby milliner had fashioned to match Mistress Jones's creations.

"It is just the thing for a beautiful day like this one!" the dressmaker enthused, then waited anxiously for her client's approval.

Lisette made a show of examining each item of the ensemble, smiling inwardly as she thought how much potential for amusement this masquerade could have. "Yes... these will do. My friend, Madame Raveneau, will assist me so that you will be free to wrap the rest of my purchases."

"Of course. Thank you, fraulein."

Devon and Lisette waited until the door was closed and the tall woman's footsteps receded; then the two of them collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"You are certainly taking to your new role!" Devon accused teasingly. "It wouldn't surprise me a bit if Mistress Jones curtsies when next you appear!"

Lisette's azure eyes twinkled with delight. "I confess that I'm beginning to have fun... and after all, I do need to practice my new personality before coming face to face with Nicholai!"

Lisette had donned the petticoat and now Devon helped her into the lovely new gown. She could see that the mention of Nicholai Beauvisage's name had returned tension to the air. "On the basis of the performance you just gave, I'll wager that he won't believe it possible that you could be anyone but Giselle Amstetten, a wealthy refugee from war-torn Austria."

"Oh... I don't know. My insides seem tied in knots whenever I think of facing him. I still cannot believe that we saw the house where he is staying this morning! Do you suppose Nicholai was inside? And how can you be certain it is really the house? Just because Andre heard some rumor at one of the clubs last night—"

After fastening the last tiny pearl button at the base of Lisette's elegant neck, Devon took a deep breath. "Well, there was one other thing that I didn't tell you. Last night, Andre was introduced to Nicholai at Boodle's. He sat beside him at the gaming table and they conversed—casually, but at some length...."

Lisette went on adjusting the fine gauze fichu that would fill in her gown's deep décolletage. Her heart beat in her throat and ears; hot color flooded her cheeks. It had been so
long
since she had even been in the same city as Nicholai—more than three months! She longed for him with every fiber of her being, yet dreaded the prospect of actually encountering him....

"Did Andre relate some of this conversation to you?" she managed to whisper.

"He said that he liked Nicholai very much. I think that meeting him set Andre's mind at ease about our little scheme. He also said that Nicholai won a great deal of money, but that he seemed to take little pleasure in it. When Andre asked what had brought him to London, the tale of Gabrielle was briefly related... yet without enthusiasm. Andre is convinced that you needn't worry that Nicholai has fallen back into love with her."

Smoothing an imaginary crease in her skirt so that Devon wouldn't see the irrational tears that stung her eyes, Lisette asked one more husky question. "Was there anything else?"

"He didn't mention you, if that's what you mean, but then, why would he? Remember, as far as Nicholai knew, Andre was just a casual stranger at the gaming table. However, the reason that we know where he lives is that a pompous man, well into his cups, I gather, paused to speak to Nicholai and was introduced to Andre as Sir Dudley Whitloaf. It seems that he and his French wife have given shelter to Gabrielle in their home, so Nicholai has been staying there as well. What is more encouraging, though, is that he told Andre that he's been longing for rooms of his own and might move any day." Devon smiled and touched her friend's pale cheek. "I met the Whitloafs during our last stay in London, so I can understand why Nicholai is unhappy in their home. If Gabrielle is anything like Angelique Whitloaf, you have nothing to worry about!"

Lisette expelled a nervous sigh, but fell silent as the two of them pinned up her golden curls, then added a lovely wide-brimmed straw hat with green silk ribbons that were tied under Lisette's delicate chin. Devon produced a tiny patch from her reticule, which was applied to the right and just above Lisette's mouth.

"Oh—my!" Lisette stared into the full-length cheval mirror. "I... certainly don't look like myself."

"Good!" Devon rejoined cheerfully. "You look like an aristocratic, mysterious Austrian beauty. Just hold your head up as if you are confident... that's right! Let me see you arch an eyebrow condescendingly—"

She complied, then let smothered laughter escape. "I don't think Nicholai will be instantly infatuated with me if I act like
that!"

"You'll know how to behave. Your instincts will take over." Devon gathered up her reticule and held the dressing room door open for her friend. "All we have to do now is contrive to bring the two of you together!"

On their way down the narrow passage that led to the main room of the shop, Lisette and Devon paid little attention to the conversation they could hear Mistress Jones having with another client.

"I wouldn't worry," the dressmaker was saying. "He came all this way to be with you, didn't he?"

"Oui,
but I do not like the feel of things lately. Nicky has changed...."

Only a few feet from the doorway that opened into the shop, Lisette froze and gripped Devon's arm, pressing an urgent finger over her own lips.

"Don't despair,
Comtesse,
your handsome American will fall in love all over again when he sees you in this gown!"

"I am counting on that," came the cold French-accented reply. "I have been worried all morning that you might not have finished."

"Oh, no,
Comtesse!
In fact, the gown was ready last evening in case you came for it early. You see, I have it hanging right back here!" There was a pause, then Lisette and Devon heard a gasp of pleasure before Mistress Jones went on warmly, "I am so glad that you approve! Where will you be wearing it this evening? To Carleton House?"

"Non,
it's not that. We have plans to attend a concert at Vauxhall Gardens... and Nicholai has assured me that he will be there. It seems the perfect place to rekindle the flames of romance,
n'est-ce pas?"

"Under a full moon... in one of those charming grottoes...." Dolly Jones agreed dreamily.

At this point, Devon, who had realized who the
comtesse
and her "Nicky" must be, pulled Lisette toward the doorway. "Mistress Jones, we are all ready!" she called before stepping into view. Lisette had no choice but to follow.

"Ah, Madame Raveneau—and Fraulein Amstetten, you look splendid and beautiful!" the dressmaker exclaimed. "The hat is perfect for you!" She rushed toward them, then remembered her other client and turned back. "Ladies, I would like you to meet Gabrielle Marchandon,
la comtesse de Louviers. Comtesse,
this is Madame Devon Raveneau, wife of that dashing sea captain, Andre Raveneau."

"Of course..." murmured Gabrielle as she smiled toward Devon. "He is French,
is he not?"

"Yes, but he hasn't lived there for more than two decades." She paused and put on her own artificial smile. "I am so pleased to meet you,
Comtesse."

There was a strange undercurrent in the air that made Mistress Jones nervous. Extending a hand toward Lisette, she hurried to finish the introductions. "And this is Fraulein Giselle Amstetten. Like you, she has been forced to flee her country, to leave behind her family's castle and the possessions acquired over a lifetime..."

"Welcome to London, fraulein," Gabrielle said sweetly.

"Thank you very much," murmured Lisette. She couldn't take her eyes off this woman who had so captivated Nicholai. Her midnight blue and white riding habit, the hat with its cockade, her fashionably styled gleaming coppery hair, green eyes fringed with thick dark lashes, all imprinted themselves on Lisette's mind.

"I really must be going," Gabrielle announced, turning to the dressmaker. "If you could just wrap that up for me..."

"But don't you want to try it on?"

"After all those fittings? I cannot spare the time, and besides, I trust you!" Her voice sharpened impatiently.

Without another word, Dolly Jones reached for the elaborate lavender silk gown that hung behind her. Barely a minute elapsed before she had wrapped it and was presenting the package to Gabrielle.

"Good fortune to you tonight."

"Merci."
Gabrielle gave the dressmaker a dazzling confidential smile. "With this gown, a full moon, and my own charm and beauty, how could I possibly fail?"

Chapter 39