The Cavendon Women (31 page)

“Do you really? How interesting. And I think we are neighbors, Lady Daphne,” James said. “I live in Brook Street, near Claridge's. As a bachelor, I do like to be close to a hotel. It makes life so much easier. I can always get a meal, or tea on Sunday afternoon.” He stared at Dulcie when he said that.

Felix let out a huge laugh and exclaimed in an amused voice, “As if you need a hotel, what with your three sisters and Constance always clucking around you like mother hens. What a life. I wouldn't mind it myself, Jamie.” Felix continued to laugh.

James had the good grace to laugh with him, then turning to Lady Daphne, he said, “There must be a wonderful story behind that relationship … the Swanns and the Inghams. What an extraordinary show of devotion and loyalty on both sides.”

Before Daphne could say anything, Dulcie exclaimed, “Papa just married a Swann, the first Ingham ever to do so, although there was always a lot of … messing around going on—” Dulcie stopped speaking when she saw Daphne's scowl, and looked at James helplessly. She winked at him surreptitiously.

It took all of his self-control not to burst out laughing. But then Hugo did exactly that, and so he did too, and so did Dulcie.

Only Daphne and Constance did not join in, remaining poker-faced.

Hugo finally said, “There are quite a lot of record books at Cavendon, James, and history has it that there have been all sorts of relationships between the two families over the generations.” He glanced at his wife. “I don't think we have to hide that, Daphers, because the whole world knows anyway. And Dulcie was correct.”

James, wishing to change the subject, said, “And when do you plan to open this art gallery of yours, Dulcie?”

“Not until late next year. There's rather a lot to do, finding the art, that sort of thing.”

“I hope I can be your first customer,” James announced. “I don't own much art actually, and I certainly need some for my flat in Brook Street. The place looks barren.”

She nodded but remained silent, waiting, wanting him to take the lead; he understood that.

After sipping some of the white wine, James said, “I know you have a job with Cecily Swann, but perhaps sometime in the next week or so when you have an hour to spare, you might help me find a painting or two.”

“I would love to do that. And I'll make the time to suit you.” Dulcie flashed him a smile.

He nodded. Done and dusted, he thought. And I don't give a damn who knows I'm interested in her. And apparently neither does she.

 

Thirty-nine

“You're going to be painted by Travers Merton! How wonderful. And very flattering,” Cecily exclaimed, smiling at DeLacy.

“Shhh,” DeLacy said, glancing around. “It's a big secret. I just explained, you can't tell anyone. Lawrence Pierce arranged it. As a surprise for Mama.”

“I've never broken a confidence of yours, and I never would,” Cecily responded, reaching out, touching DeLacy's arm with affection.

The two women, now fast friends once more, were sitting in the main dining room of the Ritz Hotel in Piccadilly. Cecily used the Ritz often, because it was close to the Burlington Arcade and her shops.

Leaning closer to Cecily, DeLacy said, with a mischievous smile, “I never told anyone that you and Miles used to go up into the attics at Cavendon, to fiddle around with each other, when you were only
thirteen.”

Cecily laughed. “And that's all we ever did, you know. We just fiddled around, touched each other. Nothing too adventurous.”

“Yes, I know. You told me that then, and I believed you, although most wouldn't,” DeLacy countered.

Cecily sighed. “And thankfully we're back together, and I'm happy, and so is he, and if you can tell me how to kill someone without getting caught, please do so.”

DeLacy made a face. “Clarissa is just being mean, and vengeful, to punish him, I think.” She shook her head. “None of us ever liked her when we were younger. Don't you remember, we used to call her Clarissa Mildew?”

“We weren't nice girls, were we? Very cliquish.”

“No. Oh, there's Miles. He does look well, Ceci. He's put on weight, and he's much better dressed, thanks to you.”

“I have spruced him up a bit, that's true, and he's almost like his old self. And happy, DeLacy, that's the most important thing.”

“You do do wonders for him.”

“Good morning, ladies,” Miles said, coming to a standstill at the table. “This was a nice surprise, being invited to join two of my favorite women for lunch. Thank you, Ceci.”

After kissing Cecily on the cheek, and then his sister, he sat down. A huge smile spread across his face and he patted his jacket. “I picked up the letter this morning from the solicitors, and I can't wait for the meeting this afternoon.”

“Let's hope you don't need the letter, that she gives you the jewels without a murmur.” Cecily turned her head, beckoned to the waiter, then asked Miles, “Would you like something to drink? A glass of champagne?”

He shook his head vehemently. “No, nothing. I have to be alert and on my toes this afternoon, but thanks.”

DeLacy said, “Shall we order? Because I have to get home and change, and then go to Mama's first, before everyone else arrives.”

“Why is that?” Cecily asked.

“We made a master plan, as you suggested,” Miles answered. “DeLacy goes first, at exactly four o'clock, bearing a gift. At about ten past four, or thereabouts, Daphne will arrive with Annabel and Nanny. They will have tea, it will be cozy, Mama will get to meet her new granddaughter. All lovey-dovey. At around ten to five, which is about the time Annabel will start getting cranky, Nanny will leave with the child, and I shall arrive. And that is when the real business will begin.”

“Will she be expecting you? Or are you surprising her?” Cecily gave Miles a pointed look.

“No surprises, that's not the right way to do it. Lacy will tell her during tea that I want to pop by, that I've something to tell her.”

“And what's that?” Cecily probed, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“I shall explain to her that I want a divorce, and I'm having trouble with Clarissa, and let her think I'm looking for sympathy. Felicity's always enjoyed being needed. It was her stock in trade, the sympathy-kindness bit. And she likes getting family news; I've long heard on the grapevine that she's felt very cut off from her children over the years.”

“Not our fault,” DeLacy exclaimed, and picked up the menu, glancing at it quickly.

“I understand, Miles, and it's a good plan,” Cecily interjected. “And so much better to have Annabel and Nanny gone when you ask for the jewels. Oh, and by the way, I have a bit of other news you can give her … Diedre's having a baby. She's coming to see me this afternoon, to order some things. A wedding gown, a trousseau for the winter in New York, and maternity clothes. The baby is due in the spring … late April, I think she said.”

Miles stared at Cecily in surprise. “Gosh, that
is
a bit of news. Incidentally, I had a phone call from Great-Aunt Gwendolyn.” He looked at his sister, and added, “About Lavinia. Did you?”

“I did. I told her she could count on me. I think Lavinia should be allowed back into the inner circle. She's very ill.”

“That's what I said.” Miles also looked at the menu and put it down immediately. “They have fish cakes today, and those are for me.”

“I'm having the same,” Lacy murmured.

“Oh, so will I.” Cecily looked amused as she said this, and added, “We usually ate the same thing when we were growing up, so why not now.” Beckoning to the waiter once again, Cecily, Miles, and DeLacy ordered their food; Cecily and DeLacy both asked for a glass of white wine.

Miles shook his head when the waiter looked at him, and picked up the glass of water. “I mean to be as sober as a judge,” he muttered to the two women, and then asked Cecily, “When is Diedre getting married to Paul? Do we know yet?”

“She said in October when we spoke on the phone, but didn't say exactly when. I explained I needed a bit of time to make everything and to do proper fittings. She said she was going to speak to your father tonight, call him in Zurich. And that she would let me have the date by tomorrow. I believe it depends on when he and Charlotte are coming home.”

*   *   *

After lunch, DeLacy rushed back to her flat, and Cecily and Miles walked over to the main Swann shop in the arcade. Suddenly Cecily stopped dead in her tracks, and cried, “Oh my God! I can't believe it!”

Miles turned to her quickly. “What? What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong, but isn't that James Brentwood, the actor, looking in my shop window?”

“It is,” Miles replied, and took hold of her arm. “Come on, let's go and meet him. I'm a tremendous admirer of his. Nobody does Shakespeare like him, and I've read that he's quite the history buff. Perhaps that's the reason he understands Shakespeare as well as he does.”

By the time Cecily and Miles reached the shop at the top of the Burlington Arcade, James Brentwood had gone inside. Opening the door, Cecily was highly amused when she saw Dorothy talking to the actor. She was obviously so flustered by this unexpected encounter, and all of a dither, stumbling over her words.

The moment Dorothy spotted Cecily and Miles coming in together, she exclaimed, “Ah, Cecily! I'm so glad you're back.” A look of relief flooded her face. “This is Mr. Brentwood.”

James swung around, walked over to join Cecily and Miles. Cecily caught her breath when he came to a stop in front of them. He was incredibly handsome, and had enormous presence. It seemed to Cecily that he had sucked all the air out of the room.

“James,” he said, shaking hands with them both.

“It's wonderful to meet you,” Miles said. “You were spectacular in
Henry the Fifth
. I went to see it twice.”

“Thank you,” James answered. “I always enjoy doing that play. Agincourt, eh? Quite a battle.”

Cecily said, “How nice of you to come to my shop. How can I help you, Mr. Brentwood?”

“
James,
” he said. “Please call me James. There are two things, actually. I would like to buy a gift for someone, but mostly I must find Dulcie. Is she here?”

Though she was taken by surprise at this unexpected reference to Dulcie, Cecily managed to conceal it. At the moment she was caught up in his voice; she could listen to it forever, so mesmerizing was it. Pulling herself together, Cecily said, “She must be here somewhere.”

“She's upstairs in your studio,” Dorothy interjected. “I'll go and fetch her.”

“I wasn't aware you knew Dulcie; she's my sister,” Miles said. He was genuinely as puzzled as Cecily about Brentwood and the baby of the family.

“I'd guessed that,” James said with a faint smile.

Cecily walked across the room to the Art Deco desk, leaned against it, and asked, “What kind of present are you looking for?”

“I was thinking of a handbag, for my manager's wife. She has a birthday soon, and I'm aware she admires your designs.”

“Do I know her? Does she come here?”

“No, not to my knowledge. Her name is Constance Lambert, and she is very elegant. Your name came up the other evening; she apparently likes your clothes.”

“Most women covet our Golden Box evening bag, so I'm sure she would like it. Obviously it's not actually real gold, but gold-colored metal, and the front looks like the back of a sealed envelope. We also have a pleated silk evening bag with chains—” Cecily broke off, turned her head at the sudden clatter of heels against wood.

Dulcie was rushing down the stairs at breakneck speed. So hurried was her descent, she almost tripped and fell when she reached the last few steps, but she righted herself at once.

James, swiftly stepping forward, took hold of her arm and steadied her. “Be careful, darling,” he said, and was amazed that he had actually used this term of endearment.

Cecily and Miles exchanged knowing glances, and Cecily raised a brow; Miles half smiled at her, then nodded.

She said, “Miles and I have some business to attend to. So if you'll excuse us, James, we'll go upstairs. We can look at the bags later, whenever you wish.”

Once they were alone, Dulcie moved closer to James and touched his arm tentatively. “Why are you here? We're supposed to meet on Sunday.”

“It suddenly seemed too far off. I wanted to see you now. Today. Isn't it all right, my coming here?”

Her face dimpled with smiles. “It's very all right.”

James sat down in one of the chairs, stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles, smiling inwardly. There was something so adorable about her; he found her irresistible.

Dulcie lowered herself into the other chair, and focused on him. “And it
is
a long time until Sunday. Three days and three nights … ages away.”

His generous mouth twitched with hidden laughter, but somehow he managed to keep his face straight. He remained silent, gazed back at her, caught up in the amazing vividness of her coloring and extraordinary natural beauty.

Dulcie was studying him intently. She had so many questions on the tip of her tongue, wanted to know everything about him. Yet she would not ask him one thing, sensing that he was a very private person in many ways. She did not wish to intrude on him.

James suddenly said, “Is there something wrong? You have a strange look on your face. What is it?”

“I was just wishing you were standing up. Then I could hold on to you, very tightly, and know that this was real.”

“That's not a problem.” He instantly rose.

So did Dulcie. She walked across the floor, stood in front of him, and leaned her head against his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, drew her into him, and held her close. She did the same, and put her hands on his back. And they stood together without moving or saying a thing. Words were not necessary with them, and they both knew it.