The House in Grosvenor Square (44 page)

At this Lord Wingate unbolted the door, then turned the key in the lock. The door flew open, and two soldiers in uniform with weapons drawn, immediately accosted the man, who attempted to fire at them but was foiled. Mr. Mornay was right behind the soldiers, and his eyes searched the room, spotted Ariana, and he rushed to her as though no force on earth could stop him.

“My dearest!” she cried, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears. He kissed her face, her cheeks, all the while undoing the knots on her hands. Meanwhile the officer of the law was undoing the ropes that kept her fastened to the chair. When her hands were free, she wrapped them around Mr. Mornay's neck and cried. She was so happy and exhausted, but she couldn't let him go. Thankfully he did not require it of her. He was too busy lifting her in his arms and holding her up against him tightly. With closed eyes, he just held her, feeling much of the awful tension he'd been experiencing slowly drain away. He was so, so sorry that she had been forced to endure such brutality.

The soldiers had Wingate's hands in cuffs, and each one took an arm to lead him down the stairs. The man was in a fury, cursing at Chesley and promising to be revenged on him, Mornay, and on his brother. He was trying to put up a good fight to get free of the soldiers, though it was hopeless. “The other lady isn't here, sir.”

“She was brought with me into this house, but another man walked off with her on the storey beneath this one!” exclaimed Ariana.

“We'll get her,” Mornay said. He put her feet down on the floor, gently loosened her hands from around his neck, and then put his arm about her to help her down the steps—and to keep her near.

Wingate was hauled down the steps, cursing and complaining all the way, while the others stopped to search the next lower floor. Mr. Mornay wanted to go with the other men to find Lavinia, but he couldn't leave Ariana's side, and he would never leave her alone.

In minutes the sound of a scuffle came from a room not too far down the corridor and then a loud report! In the next minute Antoine came running up the steps, all aflutter with concern. “Well, have you found her?” he asked, not even stopping to hear the answer. He continued down the corridor, listening and looking, and found the room with the commotion.

Not a minute later, he came back out the door triumphantly, holding a smiling Miss Herley in his arms. “Oh, thank God!” Ariana said, throwing her arms back around the neck of her beloved.

He instantly picked her up, nodded at Holliwell to go first, and followed
him down the stairs. The soldiers held Wingate back, though he grew violent when he saw first his brother with his lady and then Mornay with his.

Ariana stared at the man as they approached him, and he actually grew quiet when he saw her watching him. “Stop!” she cried, when they could have passed him. Mr. Mornay was puzzled, but he did as she asked. Ariana's gaze was level with Lord Wingate's, since she was in the arms of her beloved. The prisoner's expression was surly, but she said, “May God have mercy upon you and upon your soul!”

There was a flicker of something in the steely glint of his eyes at her words—surprise perhaps. But he said nothing, and then they were out of the house and heading toward the coach.

B
y the time Mr. Mornay's carriage entered Mayfair, it was nigh three o'clock in the morning, and every occupant in the carriage was more than ready for “Bedfordshire.” The night had been exhausting. Despite the fact that evening entertainments and house parties often lasted until the early morning hours, Mr. Mornay felt as if he had been awake for days.

“Lavinia, will you stay at Hanover Square with me now?” Ariana asked.

“We told my parents I would be with you. They have likely not had word about my abduction at all, and if it's not too impertinent, I should like it to stay that way. So, yes, I'll accompany you. They are bound to feel Lord Holliwell had a hand in it, if I tell them!” She turned to Mr. Mornay. “You, sir, will write to my parents? Of your new opinion of his lordship?”

He nodded. One more thing he had to do. Bother.

“Thank you, sir!”

Holliwell echoed the thought.

It was strange to realize that the threat from Lord Wingate was truly in the past, and that now Ariana was safe at Hanover Square. His instinctive response to the day's events—indeed, to the events of the past three days— was to keep Ariana with him. However, the facts had changed. Her family was expected the following day. Wingate was in custody. And with dawn, it would mean only three days until the wedding!

Lavinia interrupted his thoughts, asking Holliwell, “Where will you stay, my lord?” The young man looked helplessly to Mornay.

“Where are your possessions?” Mr. Mornay asked.

“What little I have, sir, is in the apartment I took you to earlier.” There was a pause. “I ought to have stayed in the East End, I suppose.”

“I will offer you a guest bedchamber for the night. Tomorrow we'll go to Miss Herley's family, and I'll speak for you.”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Yes, thank you, sir!” Lavinia repeated.

Ariana squeezed his hand and quipped, “Yes, thank you, sir!” with a little grin.

When Haines saw the coach arrive, he sent a sleepy footman to summon the mistress immediately—as she had ordered. She was prodigiously indignant that Mornay had ignored her wish to speak to him earlier. So indisposed as she was, what with worry over Ariana and Miss Herley, it was unpardonable. Thus, her eyes popped open instantly. She was resting on the sofa, where she had been unable to sleep. Mr. Pellham was resting likewise in a wing chair.

She hurried out to the hall, while Mr. Pellham scurried to follow. Ah! The lady caught Ariana and Mornay saying good night at the door. His head was just coming up from planting a sincere kiss on her cheek. “Oh, thank God! Ariana! Upon my soul! Oh, Miss Herley, thank God! Thank God! You are both returned! Oh, look, Mr. Pellham! The gels are safe!”

“Yes, yes!” he said happily. He went and shook Mr. Mornay's hand.

“Mr. Mornay! Do not leave yet, sir!” Mrs. Bentley's strident tone, at this hour of the morning, made him look up with a pained expression. Mrs. Bentley gave her niece a heartfelt embrace—it seemed so natural a thing for her to do. Ariana accepted it gladly, thinking how wonderful to find her aunt becoming such an affectionate old soul. Mrs. Bentley had indeed grown to love her, she was certain, and she returned the sentiment.

Mrs. Bentley even took and kissed Miss Herley, and there were tears in the eyes of each of the females. She then turned to the Paragon. “Sir! I require an explanation of what has occurred tonight! I am thinking that you were right indeed. Ariana must stay at your house. Nothing is safe anymore. Nothing!” Mrs. Bentley had suffered an awful night, reflecting on all her vulnerability—her carriage wasn't safe, her own house wasn't safe. It was horrid, vexatious, and—devilishly unfair!

Mr. Mornay frowned. In a strong tone he replied, “Mrs. Bentley, your niece is safe. Miss Herley is safe. Lord Wingate is in custody. The threat is gone. I repeat, the threat is gone.”

She blinked, trying to digest the good news. “My heavens! Is it true?” She looked around. “This is wonderful indeed!” She turned to her faithful companion. “Did you hear, Mr. Pellham? The danger is over!”

“Yes, yes, my dear.” To the Paragon, he said, “And you must be the hero, sir, who saved the day for the ladies.”

“I had much help,” he said, though Ariana's shining eyes revealed that she shared Mr. Pellham's opinion. Mornay added, “We are all tired and in need of our beds. This is your explanation, Mrs. Bentley. Now let us all get some rest.” He gave Ariana another soft kiss on the hand and said, “Good night.” With a bow to the whole company, he left with Lord Antoine, who had just finished kissing Lavinia's hand.

Mrs. Bentley almost wanted to object. But she too was tired. Exhausted, in fact.

“Haines, quickly! Miss Herley and Mr. Pellham are both in need of beds. See that they are settled comfortably in guest rooms.”

Finally she felt she could rest. Ariana was safe! Returned and beneath her own roof! Her brother would not find her lacking as a chaperone when he arrived the next day! And the wedding so near—my goodness! The wedding! Only three days away!

The butler at Grosvenor Square had a problem. Her name was Mrs. Hamilton. He knew his situation, and that of all the staff, was in peril, but somehow the thought of the housekeeper being a thief of the master's goods made that problem pale in comparison. His pending dismissal hadn't been confirmed by the master, for one thing, while Mrs. Hamilton's duplicity was undeniable. It bothered him mightily.

When Mr. Mornay returned with Lord Antoine, the loyal Mr. Frederick tiredly received their personal effects—hat, coats, and gloves. He awoke a maid to take the guest to his chamber, gave the young lord a hand-held candle sconce for light, and led the way for Mr. Mornay himself. Of course he was greatly relieved that his employer had returned safely, elated also at the news of Miss Forsythe being returned unharmed, but still the matter of Mrs. Hamilton lay heavy upon him.

The thing was, other than the circumstantial evidence that Molly had discovered, they had no actual proof the lady was guilty. Oh, they all believed her to be guilty. They felt it to be true, but they wanted
proof
. And Mr.
Frederick did not want to trouble the master with unproven theories, particularly on this night when his endurance had already been severely tried by the danger to his lady.

At the door to his bedchamber, Mr. Mornay took the light from Freddie and said, “Tomorrow gather the staff after my breakfast. I'll address the servants regarding the future plans for me and my wife.”

“Yes, sir.” He kept his countenance bland, but Freddie's pulse had quickened. Would this be the fateful announcement of their ruined hopes? Was his situation, after so long a period, to be ended with so little ceremony, no preparation, no asking of his future plans or concerns? He retired wearily and with small hopes of the morrow.

The next morning, Mrs. Hamilton could not believe it. Not a single item was there in the wall, in the secret crevice, as it ought to have been. All the small things she had napped—gone! Her eyes fell on the little bed, empty now, and blazed with anger.
That little upstart!
She rushed from the room, heading to the kitchen.
What I won't do to that girl! Taking my things!
Well, her
borrowed
things, for that was how she now viewed them.
Molly must be dismissed instantly!

Belowstairs Mrs. Hamilton found the girl on her hands and knees, scrubbing the stone floor of the kitchen. She stopped in front of her, hands on her hips. Cook and another maid, Letty, looked at her wonderingly.

“Can I help ye, Mrs. 'amilton?” Cook asked affably.

“No! It is this chit I want!”

Molly looked up startled and then sat on her knees waiting. “Me, mum?”

Mrs. Hamilton grasped one of Molly's ears sharply between her fingers. “Come this way, my pet! You have something to answer for, and I warrant it had better be a good answer!”

Molly let out a cry of, “Oh, owww! I ain't done nothin' mum!”

Cook and Lettie exchanged curious looks, wondering what the girl had done.

Mr. Mornay scowled as he looked up from where he sat in the morning
room. He had just finished off an enormous breakfast. His appetite had been ferocious when he awoke, understandably so, given the events of the recent hours.

The maid's cries reached him, however, and he slammed down his coffee cup rather too hard, causing a spill on the tablecloth. He wanted to ignore it, wanted to go on enjoying his coffee, and wanted, most of all,
silence.
How much did a man have to pay to have a little peace and quiet in his own household?
Servants! As much trouble as they are help
.

Lord Antoine, sitting across from him, noted the irritation. “Shall I see what it is?”

“No. I will.” He got up reluctantly and followed the sound to the dining room since the workmen hadn't arrived yet. Mrs. Hamilton had dragged the girl from the kitchen to the dining room, seeing it as a quiet spot to grill the maid. She was heartily doing so over in the far corner, when he entered. She failed to notice her employer's presence.