The Marquess of Cake (28 page)

So Michael’s mother was trying to give orders for Alys’s first dinner party? That would not do. Alys’s left temple throbbed in distant memory of yesterday’s headache. Well, she’d suffered through worse, like when she had three society weddings the same day and a new employee put rose water into the buttercream rather than the orange flower water ordered for all three cakes. Her ladyship could decorate the house as she liked for her own party, but not for Alys’s.

She pushed back her quilt and took a sip of tea. “It will be a busy day. At least we don’t have to fret over what I’m going to wear today.”

“No, my lady, your mourning dresses are very much alike.”

“Save the cleanest one for tonight and bring me one of the others for now.”

“They are all clean, my lady,” said Hortense, her mouth rounding into a horrified O. “You and I are too careful for any troubles of that sort.”

Alys took another sip of tea. “I’ll take your word, but I am afraid my habits may disappoint you in future. Bring one quickly.”

Hortense curtsied and went to the dressing room to select a gown.

Alys wished she could wear cakie attire today but the days of that being acceptable were over.

Michael entered the drawing room rather late for that evening’s family dinner, but he was followed in, to Alys’s surprise, by Matilda and Theodore Bliven.

“Is Father coming?” she whispered to her mother.

“I had a letter from him this morning saying he’d caught a chill and was sneezing too much to leave the house,” her mother said.

“Matilda looks well, at least,” Alys said. So did Mr. Bliven, though she thought his expression too coy.

“I do hope she brought Lucy with her,” her mother fretted.

“Surely she wouldn’t have come alone on the train with Mr. Bliven.”

“I can’t imagine she’d be so foolish,” said Alys. Matilda had been trained to be a lady.

“I did wonder if you’d want to take Lucy with you, but then you found the local girl. Is she suitable? Edith said there was talk.”

“I’m very happy with my choice.” Alys wasn’t about to gossip about her maid to her mother. For one thing, she didn’t know what her mother would think about a lady’s maid with a bastard child.

Hortense was so eager to please, so much friendlier than an imported maid from France or the like, that Alys felt quite comfortable with her. She didn’t want a maid who put on more airs than she did.

Her mother rose and gave Matilda a hug while Gawain pulled away from the Dickondell brothers to shake Theo’s hand and introduce him around. Matilda soon joined Rose, Beth, and Maud Wilson, the Dickondells’ pretty cousin, while young Adela Dickondell sat with her parents, and stared at Gawain’s eye patch. Lady Hatbrook conversed with the Dickondell aunt, whose name Alys had missed.

Michael’s aunt stayed in her room, but Alys had taken Mrs. Dickondell for a brief visit earlier.

As soon as Alys had greeted her sister, she caught her husband’s eye and joined him under a large portrait of three cocker spaniel puppies in a ribbon-trimmed basket, favored pets of a previous marchioness.

“You look very somber,” she observed. “Some news?” She couldn’t reveal the extent of her knowledge, though her head fairly throbbed with it.

Michael held himself so tightly in check that he was white around his lips. “I do not know if you’ve spoken to your brother today, but he presented me with some evidence that the report of Judah’s death is incorrect.”

Thankfully, Gawain had shown her the letter today. After he’d shared the news about Judah, he’d gone on to explain that the trader

had a line on an Indian herb reputed to do wonders for vision problems. She had not realized her brother dreamed of restoring the vision in his damaged eye. She was so glad he was trying to help himself. He’d been angry and grim when he first arrived home, so unlike the boy she’d known.

“Were you able to learn more today?”

Michael scratched under his nose with his thumb. “I sent a telegram to Lieutenant Cross’s family. I was at school with his older brother. You may recall the younger brother, who fought with Lord Mews at the ball last year.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, remembering with sickening clarity the blood and smell of burning flesh. “Did they know anything?”

“They were also mourning the death of their soldier.”

“They received the telegram as well?”

“Yes.” He tapped the nail of his thumb against his teeth.

Normally, his control over himself was absolute. He was a still man in general, not tending to all these small movements, but at least she saw his hands were steady.

“How very strange. Was anything reported in the papers about a battle or skirmish or anything last month?”

“No,” he said. “Nothing new. It is very strange. The War Office has been most unhelpful. I have had thoughts of leaving for India myself.”

“Good heavens,” Alys exclaimed. “It is so savage there. I wouldn’t be surprised if Gawain returned to India on business someday but I’ve never understood you to be a traveller.”

“Any thoughts I’ve had of adventure were in trade,” he said, “which is surely as savage as any Asiatic tribe. But I must know the truth about my brother.”

“Of course.” Alys agreed instantly. “I will go with you, if it comes to that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”

She nodded. He regarded her for a moment, still as an untamed beast considering his prey. She had forgotten he probably didn’t want her anymore, not now that he had an heir again. They must find out the truth before they could plan their future.

“I didn’t think you’d appear tonight,” she said, ignoring her mother’s gesture to come.

“It is our first dinner party as husband and wife.”

“You must prefer to be with the Cross family, storming the War Office or some such.”

“I believe they have an assault planned tomorrow,” he said with wry humor. “I shall await their news. I do wish we had a way to reach your brother’s trader friend.”

“There must be some way, if he hopes to provide goods to Gawain. He showed me the letter.” Good, she’d managed to mention that.

“No doubt he will attempt to become a businessman on a large scale if Gawain can provide the capital, but until that time, he sounds rather itinerant. Gawain sent a telegram to a shop in Lahore who takes messages for this Zahir Khan chap, offering financial incentive to learn more.”

A moment of quiet settled over the room, punctuated by Lady Hatbrook’s plummy tones. “The nerve of that girl, travelling with a man. She is no better than she should be.”

Mrs. Redcake appeared at Alys’s elbow. Alys felt her face flush red. Her mother must have been trying to warn her that the nasty woman was saying things about Matilda. Now the entire room had heard her poison.

Matilda’s face had gone as red as Alys’s, the freckles on her nose showing through her powder as her nostrils pinched.

Michael strode quickly toward his mother, seating himself next to her and bending to her ear. She, innocent as a lamb, looked around as if she couldn’t understand why anyone would be staring at her in mute shock.

Alys forced herself to glide toward the bell pull, rather than to run. A footman appeared at the door and she hissed at him to have them called for dinner. Then, she went toward her sister.

“Lucy came with us,” Matilda said fretfully. “She was in the thirdclass car, of course, but we were never alone, I promise you. There was an entire family in the car with us, the Carneys, I believe. Do you know them?”

She directed this remark to Alys.

“No, but if they are a Polegate family I’m sure I will become aware of them eventually.” Alys searched for Mr. Bliven, but he was engaged in a boisterous discussion with Clement Dickondell, the oldest son, who was laughing as Mr. Bliven waved his hands.

Men, she thought disgustedly. Did nothing improper touch them?

Then she remembered Mr. Cross, falling under Lord Mews’s fist, and shuddered. She wondered who would play white knight to Matilda.

Her father? Gawain? They both seemed far too fond of Theodore Bliven.

“Will there be a happy announcement soon?” she inquired to her sister.

Matilda’s only response was a closed-lip, secretive smile, but their mother put a hand to her breast and sighed happily. Alys narrowed her eyes and stared at Mr. Bliven again. He was Michael’s friend, and she knew too well what
he
was capable of in the department of impropriety. She could only hope Matilda was far more sensible than she had been.

The butler appeared in the doorway and announced dinner. Alys wasn’t sure what the correct order was, but Michael and Mrs. Dickondell had everyone arranged in moments and they went into the formal dining room.

Conversation was subdued at first but free-flowing wine and Mr.

Bliven’s jokes loosened the crowd a bit. Michael, not surprisingly, was lost in thought most of the time, eating sparingly and not touching sweets at all, not even a course of lemon sorbet.

Alys saw Lady Hatbrook staring at Michael often and wondered what he had said to her to prevent further outbursts. She didn’t speak, but ate rather heavily, even taking Michael’s cake for her own.

Rose was the belle of the dinner, and Alys had ensured the floral centerpiece had been replaced by a topiary of studded oranges from the greenhouse, so she had no breathing difficulty. Ernest Dickondell, the middle brother, spent far more time speaking to her than to Aunt Dickondell on his other side.

“Another romance on our hands?” her mother whispered to her when they had moved to the music room, after the men had their coffee and cigars. Rose had agreed to play the piano, with young Ernest turning pages.

“I don’t know if Rose would be pleased with a second son,” Alys had to admit. “At least not at eighteen.”

“I suppose you are right,” her mother said. “Do you suppose Mr.

Clement Dickondell is courting his cousin?”

“Maud Wilson is just seventeen and seems younger than her age.

I wouldn’t think it likely, not now at least.”

Her mother waited until Rose had completed her sonata before speaking again. “And then there is Lady Elizabeth, but she is looking for a husband in London.”

“I believe so, but that is not to say this is the one family with sons in the area, simply the only family who I’ve met in the short time I’ve been here.”

“They are very pleasant,” her mother said.

“Yes, I like them even better upon this second meeting. I was quite distracted by Rose’s health the first time.” She heard a snore behind her.

“She does look well. I am so pleased you can give her a home for now. Staying here in Sussex may be the perfect solution for her.”

Alys glanced back discreetly and saw Michael’s mother had fallen asleep during a Mozart piece. “What will you do with yourself, once we are all married off?”

“There is still Gawain, and Lewis, poor man. And I’ll be able to throw myself into the dress reform cause. I’m very passionate about that.”

“Understandably,” Alys said, then applauded as Rose finished her last piece. Lady Hatbrook woke up with a loud snort. Maud agreed to sing next, then Adela and Samuel Dickondell, the youngest of the family, did a duet on flute and violin.

“What a talented musical family,” her mother said to Mrs.

Dickondell, who flushed with pleasure.

“We are much in each other’s society,” the lady said. “I’m so pleased your daughters are here at the Farm now. We had no idea a romance was brewing.”

Or that the new Lady Hatbrook had not been on the shelf, when they had treated her so. But despite her pique at that first night’s treatment, she enjoyed the family. “I hope we shall have many such evenings,” Alys said.

“I agree. It is such a comfort to have family visit during times of grief, even if one cannot formally entertain or be entertained. But I must say, there are such rumors of telegrams flying in and out of the Farm today.”

“My husband is hoping for better news than he has hitherto received,” Alys said.

“I am glad,” she said, clasping her hands to her heart. “Such a comfort for his mother, of course.”

“We hope to know more soon.”

“Yes, yes. We will not breathe a word, but will pray for the best.”

The Dickondells soon called for their carriage, pleading country hours. Lady Hatbrook had already retired, muttering about the lack of sweets.

Alys found her way into Michael’s arms in the wee hours, flush with the success of her first dinner. Perhaps she wouldn’t be such a bad hostess after all. They made love until gray light seeped around the windows. Then he muttered something about a horse and left her to sleep.

Hortense had the curtains drawn the next morning by the time Alys pried open her eyes. “Good morning, my lady. The kitchen is buzzing with news of the party last night.”

She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “A good buzz?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everyone wonders if your sisters will have happy news soon.”

“I have no idea,” Alys admitted, reaching for her dressing gown, which Michael had draped over the bed when he left.

“And then there is much to question about Captain Shield.”

“I would dearly love to know the truth there,” Alys said, feeling as if she’d bit into a lemon. Her entire new life was built on a sad fiction if he was alive.

“A telegram boy came this morning,” Hortense said, pouring a cup of tea and adding cream and sugar.

Her heartbeat pounded audibly in her chest. “Did the marquess give any clue as to the contents?”

Hortense shrugged. “He isn’t here. I believe the telegram is waiting for him in his study.”

Alys ignored her tea. “Help me dress at once, please.” How she wished she could put on one of her simple gowns.

A half hour later, she slipped into Michael’s study, tiptoeing gingerly to the window because it was too dark to see.

“Ow!” She barked her shin on the edge of the desk, despite her layers of skirts.

Finally, she found the edge of a navy velvet curtain and pulled it aside until sunlight streamed in. She’d slept until midmorning, an unheard of state of affairs only a few months ago. The aristocrat and the working girl did not keep the same hours.