The Pilfered Plume

by Sandra Heath

  Her determination was kept at boiling point over those four days because Judith’s campaign against her hadn’t ended with the betrothal ball. Foolish stories continued to emanate from Portman Street, and Linnet remained the butt of much sly amusement. She endured it all stoically, and gave no hint at all that anything was afoot. Great-Aunt Minton was angrily disapproving of Judith and never for a moment suspected any retaliation from Linnet, who gave every appearance of preparing for Lady Lydney’s rout.

  Benedict was reduced to a state of simmering anger, finding it virtually impossible to remain composed when he heard so much laughter at Linnet’s expense, but he knew that she was right when she pointed out that any display of resentment would merely serve to gratify the Cyprian.

  Of Nicholas nothing was heard at all, except that he had been seen at Judith’s house on a number of occasions, but on the Wednesday of the masked ball, as Linnet and Mary were leaving Venetia’s house with the finished gown wrapped up in a brown paper parcel, they found him waiting by the carriage.

  He wore a dark-gray coat, cream breeches, and top boots, and his waistcoat was of a particularly rich wine-red brocade. A cane swung impatiently to and fro in his gloved hand, and his top hat was tipped back on his head. He gave every impression of having been waiting for some time, and turned quickly the moment the door opened. Removing his top hat, he bowed a little, his quick glance taking in the jaunty angle of Linnet’s peach velvet hat, and the elegantly embroidered hem of her matching full-length pelisse.

  Her steps faltered the moment she saw him, but it was too late to turn and go back inside. Besides, Venetia’s footman had already hurried out to open the carriage door for her. A telltale flush leapt to her cheeks. Memories of the conservatory were all around her, and her lips seemed to tingle as if he’d kissed her only a few moments before. She felt foolish and embarrassed, and made to walk past him without speaking.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Carlisle,” he said, deliberately closing the carriage door with the end of his cane.

  The footman looked at him in surprise, not knowing quite what to do. Nicholas gave him a thin smile. “That will be all, you may return to your duties.”

  Discretion proved the better part of valor, and the footman hastened back into the house.

  Nicholas looked at Linnet again. “I said, good afternoon.”

  “I don’t wish to speak to you, sir.”

  “How unfortunate, because I wish to speak to you.”

  The end of his cane still rested firmly against the carriage door, and she glanced coldly at him. “Please allow me to enter my carriage.”

  “Only if you consent to hear me out.”

  “We have nothing to say to each other,” she said stiffly.

  “I’m very much afraid that we do. Now, then, I’d be obliged if you’d politely invite me to travel to Charles Street with you, so that we may talk in relative privacy,” he glanced at Mary, “but I’m quite prepared to stand here in the full gaze of the crescent, and insist upon saying what I have to say anyway. The choice is yours, but I think it would be prudent for you to agree to my request,” He gave a slight smile. “This is all so much more open than your conservatory, is it not? If I’m seen to pester you, Gresham might feel compelled to call me out on account of it, and I doubt very much if he’d emerge unscathed from the exercise.”

  She drew a long breath. “Very well,” she said in a tight voice, “but I do this under duress.”

  “Naturally.” He lowered the cane, and opened the door for her, seeming vaguely amused as she deliberately ignored his helping hand and climbed in on her own. He relieved Mary of the brown paper parcel containing the gown, assisted her into the carriage, and then placed the parcel on the seat.

  He looked up at the waiting coachman. “Walking pace will do, I’m not in any hurry.”

  “My lord.”

  Nicholas climbed in, sitting opposite Linnet, and a moment later the carriage drew away from the curb. Linnet averted her face, looking stonily out of the window. All she could think of was her foolish surrender in the conservatory, and the way he’d so cruelly humiliated her.

  He watched her for a moment, and then turned his attention to Mary. “Are you discreet?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good, for it wouldn’t do for what I’m about to say to get out.” He looked at Linnet again. “You cannot be unaware that Judith attended your ball after all.”

  “It would be rather difficult for me to remain in ignorance when she parades her poodle and my ribbon at every opportunity.” She gave him a cold glance. “But you’ve known all along, haven’t you? You knew even when you denied it at the ball.”

  “No.”

  “Come now, surely you aren’t still pretending you didn’t assist her!”

  “It isn’t pretense, for I didn’t help her in the slightest.”

  “No, of course you didn’t. How unreasonable of me to doubt your word,” she murmured sweetly.

  “It’s immaterial to me whether you believe me or not, for your ball is over and done with, and nothing can change what happened. However, Judith’s ball is imminent, and I’m more than a little concerned that you may be contemplating something rather foolish.”

  “I’m touched that you’re concerned about me.”

  He ignored the sarcasm. “You’ve let it be known that you’re going to Lady Lydney’s rout, but I’m not convinced. It could all be a stratagem, and your real intention could be to go to Portman Street.”

  “How telling that you should credit me with your devious ability to say you’ll do one thing, when all the time you’ll be doing quite another.”

  “I’ve never lied to you.”

  “Oh, come now…”

  “Linnet, you’re beginning to be tiresome.”

  She drew a quick breath. She mustn’t let him provoke her. She managed a cool smile. “So, you think I’m on the point of beating your tawdry belle de nuit at her own game, do you?”

  “It had crossed my mind, yes. Linnet, if you go to that ball tonight, you may find yourself playing her game in more ways than one.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Are you so naive? What do you imagine it’s going to be like there? Do you think it’s going to be similar to your own ball, but maybe slightly more rowdy? If you do, then you’re greatly mistaken, for when the upper floors are opened later in the night…” He didn’t finish.

  She looked away. She hadn’t considered it in depth because she hadn’t wanted to.

  “Look at me, Linnet.”

  Unwillingly, she obeyed.

  He held her gaze. “Any woman who presents herself at that ball will be regarded as ready, willing, and able to oblige a gentleman’s wish. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly. No doubt you speak from considerable experience of such events.”

  “Now you’re not only being naive, but childish as well!” he snapped, his blue eyes brightening with quick anger. “I may be a man of the world, but you, Linnet Carlisle, are not a woman of the world. You wouldn’t know how to fend for yourself in an environment like that ball, and if you are plotting to get in there tonight, I cannot advise you strongly enough to forget all about it. Judith’s taunts and barbs simply aren’t worth the price you might find yourself paying.”

  Mary’s eyes were huge, and she toyed nervously with the strings on the parcel.

  Linnet said nothing, her thoughts a little confused. Why was he apparently so concerned about her? Was this just another ploy to deceive her? Maybe a glance in White’s betting book would reveal he’d placed a large sum upon her not attending the ball!

  “Linnet?” He was still holding her gaze. “Are you planning to go there tonight?”

  Her eyes were unfathomable. “No,” she replied coolly.

  “I hope you’re telling the truth.”

  “How many times in the past have I wished you were telling the truth? When you told me you loved me, I hoped with all my heart that you meant
it.”

  The carriage had reached the corner of Charles Street, and the gates of Carlisle House were just visible. She got up to lower the window glass, calling out to the coachman, “Draw up at the curb, if you please.”

  “Madam.”

  The team was maneuvered to a halt, and Linnet opened the door pointedly, looking at Nicholas. “I believe our conversation is at an end, sir.”

  “So it is,” he murmured, taking his hat and cane and climbing out, but he turned to look at her again before closing the door. His gaze was intense, and his tone very serious. “Don’t go there tonight, Linnet. Believe me, I do have your best interest at heart.” Without another word, he closed the carriage door, strolling away along the pavement in the direction of Berkeley Square.

  As the coachman urged the team on once more, turning them beneath the gateway and into the courtyard of Carlisle House, Mary looked urgently at her mistress. “You mustn’t go tonight, Miss Linnet, you really mustn’t.”

  “I’m going, Mary, and that’s the end of it.”

  “But Lord Fane…”

  “No doubt has a multitude of sly reasons for so advising me.”

  The maid looked helplessly at her. “Miss Linnet, you heard what he said about the ball. If such things will be going on, you cannot possibly think of continuing with your plan.”

  “That’s enough, Mary.”

  “But…”

  “I said that’s enough!”

  The maid lowered her eyes. “Yes, Miss Linnet.”

  “I’m going there tonight, and nothing someone like Lord Fane says is going to change my mind.”

  “No, Miss Linnet.”

  The carriage swayed to a standstill, and Sommers came out to open the door. Linnet glanced again at the maid. “Not another word, is that clear?”

  “Yes, Miss Linnet.”

  Linnet alighted and went into the house.

  Chapter 21

  The weather changed abruptly by the evening. From being clear and bright, the skies became overcast, and it began to rain heavily. A breath of noticeably cooler air crept in through the slightly open window of Linnet’s bedroom, carrying with it the dismal sound of the steady downpour. The evening had drawn in prematurely, and already a lighted candle had been placed on the dressing table, so that Mary could see clearly as she pinned and combed the dark-brown wig Linnet was to wear as a disguise.

  The wig consisted of a mass of frothy curls, and when it had been fixed firmly over Linnet’s chestnut hair, Mary took the mask, easing it carefully into place, and then fluffing out the veil that concealed the lower half of Linnet’s face.

  The candle flame swayed in the draft from the window, and it seemed to Mary that there was something ominous about such a complete change in the weather. She was anxious for her mistress. “Miss Linnet, I do wish you’d reconsider. This is all so very risky…”

  “I’m going to Portman Street, Mary, and that’s the end of it.”

  “Yes, miss.” Mary fell silent, continuing to comb the wig at the back of Linnet’s head. Then she put the comb down. “What necklace shall you wear, miss?”

  “The diamonds, I think. I’ve hardly ever worn them in society, so no one will recognize them as belonging to me.”

  The maid brought the little leather box, and attended to the necklace. When it was fastened, and arranged satisfactorily, Mary looked at Linnet in the mirror. “There, miss, it’s all finished.”

  Linnet studied her reflection, and sighed uneasily, for the gown’s bodice was still very skimpy indeed, but at least it was impossible to see Linnet Carlisle in the dark-haired, masked woman gazing back at her. She rose to her feet, shaking out the gown’s filmy skirts. The diamond necklace sparkled in the candlelight, and the scent of lily-of-the-valley surrounded her from the essence she’d put on earlier.

  Another draft of cool air made her shiver, and she went to look out of the window. The rain was tamping into the puddles in the courtyard, and in Charles Street the lamplighter and his boy were already at work. It was all a far cry from the beautiful August evenings of recent weeks.

  She smiled a little. “Well, it may be gloomy out there, but at least it’s to my advantage.”

  “Is it, miss?”

  “Yes, because if Sommers should happen to be in the entrance hall, which he shouldn’t, since he’s been told he won’t be required this evening, he won’t think it odd if I go down in a hooded cloak.”

  “Oh, I see, miss. Yes, I suppose that is a good thing.” But the maid’s voice was anything but enthusiastic.

  Linnet glanced at her. “I suppose that hackney coachman of your cousin’s is reliable, isn’t he?”

  “My cousin swears he is, miss. He says he’ll be waiting in the mews lane as agreed.”

  “And what of my own coachman? Can he be depended upon to say nothing of driving around with an empty carriage?”

  “Tom Carter has an eye for what he calls ‘bits of muslin,’ miss, and that eye happens to be on me at the moment. He’ll do as we wish, because he wants to be in favor with me.”

  Wheels sounded in the courtyard, and Linnet looked out again to see her carriage. It pulled up by the door of the house, its blinds down in readiness.

  Mary brought Linnet’s cloak, placing it carefully around her, and raising the hood over the wig. The hood was particularly roomy, and could be pulled well forward so that no one could see the mask and veil over her face. Sommers was indeed the only hazard she was likely to encounter, for her great-aunt had already departed for Lady Anne’s. Linnet was conscious of a pang of remorse where her great-aunt was concerned, for that lady had set off quite content that her niece wasn’t contemplating anything improper. Linnet didn’t like deceiving her elderly relative like this, but felt too goaded by Judith Jordan’s activities to refrain from carrying out her admittedly outrageous plan. Linnet kept telling herself that her activities wouldn’t be found out, that only Judith would ever know what had been done this night, and that Great-Aunt Minton would therefore never find out. Lady Lydney’s rout was bound to be such a crush that it was quite possible for her to be absent without anyone realizing. All this was still wrong, however, and Linnet knew it; but pride dictated that she carried on with her plan.

  She turned to Mary. “Will you see if the coast is clear?”

  “Yes, miss.” The maid hurried away, and returned a moment later to say that the entrance hall was deserted.

  Taking up her reticule, and looping it over her arm beneath the cloak, Linnet left the room. She went down the staircase, pausing at the bottom while Mary went out to indicate to Tom Carter that he could now drive off with the empty carriage, then she returned to Linnet, and the two women slipped toward the ballroom. At the top of the steps leading down to the dance floor, the maid tried for a last time to dissuade her mistress.

  “Please don’t go, miss, for that woman really isn’t worth all this. Lord Fane is right, all sorts of things will go on there later on, and if you should be caught up in it all…”

  “I won’t be,” replied Linnet firmly, determined not even to contemplate such a dread possibility. “Now remember, if my great-aunt should happen to return early from Lady Anne’s, you are to wait for me in the conservatory with your cloak. We must appear to have returned together from the rout, and if we should be seen entering the house from the rear, I think I can explain it away somehow. Just be prepared.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  The maid watched unhappily as Linnet slipped down the steps and across the shadowy ballroom, where white dust cloths again covered the sofas. As the cloaked figure vanished into the conservatory, Mary turned and walked quietly back toward the staircase, slipping stealthily up it to return to Linnet’s room, where she would somehow have to while away the coming hours. Oh, no good was going to come of all this; it was going to be one of those times when the impetuous side of her mistress’s nature was going to cause her trouble.

  * * * *

  Linnet moved quietly through the darkened conservato
ry, where memories of Nicholas seemed to reach out tangibly to touch her, then she pushed open the French windows onto the terrace. The sound of the rain was loud as she hesitated just inside, and the chill of the damp air made her shiver.

  The light was fading fast now, and there was no break in the low clouds. Gathering her skirts, she stepped out, hurrying across the terrace and down the stone steps into the garden. A light breeze stirred through the wet leaves, and the scent of flowers was fresh and clear. She could hear the rain beating noisily on the coach-house roof and gurgling down the drains.

  She opened the wicket gate, stepping into the narrow lane, which was lined with coach houses, stables, and the dwelling of the many grooms and coachmen employed by the residences of Charles Street and adjacent Curzon Street. It was a cobbled lane, with deep gutters that ran with rainwater, and there was no longer the scent of flowers, but of horses.

  The hackney coach was waiting by one of the stables, drawn up discreetly in the shadows, its single horse hanging its head in the downpour. The coachman was huddled on his seat, a heavy cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

  He heard the wicket gate squeak on its hinges, and turned to see her cloaked figure hurrying toward his old coach.

  “Miss C?” he asked tactfully, raising his voice a little to be heard above the rain.

  “Yes,” she replied, reaching out thankfully to grasp the wet door handle. “You know where to take me?”

  “A certain address in Portman Street? Yes, miss, I know.”

  She climbed inside, and a moment later the horse was urged into action, drawing the somewhat rickety vehicle away along the lane. Linnet sat back on the uncomfortable seat, glancing around. Just as tonight’s weather was a far cry from recent sunshine, so this old coach was a far cry from the luxury and comfort of her private carriage. The seats were threadbare and unevenly stuffed with horsehair, and the floor was strewn with straw to absorb the wet carried in by passengers.

  The coach emerged from the entrance of the mews lane, and she glanced out of the rain-washed window, staring along Charles Street toward the gates of Carlisle House. She could see the lights in the house, and knew that Mary would be watching from one of the windows. Then the coachman brought his horse up to a trot, driving north along John Street toward Fane House and Fane Crescent.