by Shirl Henke
“We do not believe there is any choice,” Jenette said as she stepped into the room silently and closed the door. She was still dressed in dusty travel clothing and appeared to have been in her coach through the night. “As soon as I returned, I spoke with Grace. We have decided what should be the plan.” She walked over to the table and took a croissant, biting into it with gusto.
“I suppose I was not to be consulted about this ‘plan’?” Amber asked.
“Do not be the foolish one, ma coeur. Of course, that is why you are here, oui?” She daintily wiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth with a napkin, then pulled up a small Louis XV chair and sat down.
Grace rang for her maid, requesting a fresh pot of coffee and a third cup as Jenette, like Amber, favored the vile stuff. They were likely to be locked in debate for some time. Burleigh had been wise to take his leave. Of course, he did not know about Jenette’s plans, nor did Grace intend to tell him. He would only insist on being part of it, and that would never do.
The three women sat facing one another. “As the eldest, I imagine it is my place to moderate this discussion. First, Jenette, please tell Amber what you have learned in Northumberland.”
“Eastham has had you declared dead. There is a body beneath a headstone with your name on it in the family cemetery.” Jenette could see a shiver run down Amber’s back as the implication sank in.
“Some poor girl from the countryside was killed because she bore a passing resemblance to me,” Amber said, clutching her cup so tightly she almost snapped the delicate handle. “I see Mrs. Greevy’s hand in that. She is as evil as the vile beast she adores and she has charge of all the household help. She probably selected the victim herself.”
“Most likely. No one would speak of it, but all in the village fear her. With you dead, the batard no longer had to explain your absence. If anyone suspects you ran away, no one speaks a word. I and my servants made friends with the villagers. From them we learned much in the past weeks. Your grieving widower, le cochon, wed another young girl the year after you ‘died.’ She, too, died when his heir was born.”
Amber shuddered, remembering how Eastham had tried to get an heir on her. “I am so grateful that I was not that poor girl, may God forgive me.”
“Only thank le bon Dieu you were not she. There are the rumors as well that she did not die in childbirth.”
“Why would Eastham kill her? He should have wanted a spare to his heir, would he not?” Grace asked.
“He would not bother if she did nothing to anger him,” Amber replied. “But Mrs. Greevy…” She looked over to Jenette.
“Oui. Such is the gossip. The housekeeper buys poisons from the village apothecary…for rats, she tells him. He does not believe her.”
“She was once Eastham’s lover, long ago. I believe she would kill any woman who stood between her and the marquess.”
“So,” Jenette said, wiping her hands on a napkin and crossing her arms over her chest. “We have two vipers to…how do you say, exterminer—exterminate.” She sounded out the verb carefully.
“Ten years ago Grace sent good men just to investigate. Some died,” Amber said to Jenette.
“But they were mere men. And now Eastham has an heir—a son who would be declared a batard.”
“If word got out that you were still alive, the unfortunate child would be illegitimate and unable to inherit the title,” Grace said to Amber. “That is why, now that he has found you, he will not rest until one of you is dead. I would prefer that it be him.”
“Oui, he will stop at nothing to protect the boy’s legitimacy. We must strike first.”
“What do you propose, to raise an army?” Amber asked. “There is no way into Wolf’s Gate.”
Jenette smiled but her eyes were cold. “I have myself been inside, and needed no army. Eastham wishes a second son…now that he meets me. I will find the best time…to deal with him.”
Amber jumped from her chair. “No! It is far too dangerous! Mrs. Greevy must already be mixing her poisons. If Eastham does not kill you, she will.”
Jenette shrugged. “I am careful to eat only what she serves her lord. Now I make him wait while his greed and desire grow. I am all alone in this world, with much wealth and a fine title. Even I tell him I have a son who is with tutors. When I return, he eats, how do you say it? Out of my hand?”
“Jeni, no! I will not permit it. You cannot just—just murder him,” Amber said, appalled and frightened for her audacious friend.
A shadow fell over Jenette’s face. “Ma amie, alors, I have killed many times before.”
“In self-defense or to save a life, not this way,” Amber protested, grasping Jenette’s hand.
“This is to save a life—yours,” Grace said.
“But he has a child now.” The moment she mouthed the words, she realized that they rang false.
Jenette gave voice to Amber’s thoughts. “He would make the poor enfant into a monster like himself.”
“Eastham’s young brother and his wife have been given charge of the boy until he is out of leading strings,” Grace interjected.
“Lord Oswald attended our marriage. He and his wife were kind to me,” Amber admitted.
“He would become the child’s guardian. And be a much better father, oui?” Jenette asked rhetorically.
“The matter is settled, then,” Grace said. “Jenette will take Villiars and as many other of our servants with military background as she requires. They will pose as her retinue. Once she takes up residence at a small country estate that I am negotiating to rent, Eastham will leave that hellish fortress of his and pay her court. Then“—Grace gave a shrug that was almost as fatalistically Gallic as Jenette’s best—“we shall let matters take their natural course.”
“I cannot permit it. ′Tis like walking into the jaws of hell itself! I of all people should know.” She shivered, biting her lip until it bled. “No, you will not do this.”
“Ah, cherie, how are you to stop us? Warn Eastham? Non, I think you will remain here in London and, as Grace has said, let matters take their natural course…”
She and Grace exchanged a quick glance. Anticipating Amber’s reaction, they had already arranged with Clyde Dyer and Boxer to watch so that Amber could not foil their plans.
Rob had just returned from a gathering at Brooks with several members of Commons to discuss legislation that would create a citywide police force. When his footman answered a knock at the front door, the earl immediately recognized his mother’s voice as she greeted his elderly butler, Settles. “What the devil is she doing here?” he murmured aloud.
Abigail St. John was the dearest, most gregarious, and quite alarmingly keen-witted woman he had ever met. If she knew nothing about the House of Dreams yet, he would have to tread most carefully to keep her from finding out. He shuddered at the prospect, then quickly jotted a note to Fantasia, offering his apology for having to postpone their afternoon chess match. As he rang for his valet to send it out, he realized that he should also cancel his assignation with Gaby tonight. No, perhaps he could make it after his mother retired. She always kept country hours. If he stayed out after his political meeting this evening, she would be none the wiser. Donning his jacket, he headed downstairs to meet her.
He observed her from the landing, trying to detect her mood. She certainly sounded cheerful. He sagged in relief. She did not know. “Mother, what a delightful surprise! Why did you not tell me that you were paying a visit? I would have sent one of my carriages. Is everyone well at home?” he asked.
Abigail turned as Rob walked across the foyer with open arms. She met him halfway, stretching on tiptoes to hug her tall son. “Your sisters and their families are all well,” she said, patting his arm affectionately.
“How did you travel?” he inquired, already suspecting the answer.
“Why, by public coach, what else?” she replied. “Just because you have become the earl does not mean that the rest of us will change our ways. We’re sim
ple country folk, Robert. Public conveyance is quite satisfactory. I met the sweetest young couple, recently married. They were traveling to London for him to assume a position as a clerk.”
Slight of stature with simple tastes and plain features, she nonetheless attracted people like bees to a honey tree. Her warm blue eyes and broad, ready smile had always cheered the dourest of her husband’s parishioners and offered comfort to any in affliction. She wore her gray hair in a simple coronet of braids and favored practical dark colors that did not show soil when she cooked or worked in her garden. Her only adornments were the small gold cross on a thin chain about her neck and her narrow wedding band. There was a shrewdness in her eyes that belied her merry nature. She possessed the ability to see through deceit and to detect goodness. Many people made the mistake of thinking her flighty because of her talkative nature and propensity for striking up conversations with strangers of all stations.
“I hope I am not imposing, Robert, but I read in the Chronicle that this session of Parliament will end shortly and I wanted to spend a bit of time observing the season before you returned to Kent.”
Rob blinked. “You are most welcome here anytime, Mother, but why on earth would you care about the season?” he asked as a footman took her one modest trunk to the guest room at the head of the stairs.
She clucked patiently. “For my granddaughter—your niece Esther—who will turn seventeen this winter.”
“Bernice’s eldest? She was but a child last I looked,” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose I should have looked more frequently—or posted a sentry. If she is of an age, of course, I shall sponsor her come-out.”
“Now that you are an earl, I imagine you have many duties…and also, I fear, many nieces.”
“Six, last I counted,” he said glumly as they walked into a small receiving room with comfortable furniture. He knew little about such social events and had never set foot in Almacks, although once he became Barrington, he had received a voucher. Would his lack of interest be held against Esther?
Abigail’s laughter rang down the hallway. “At least you have the number of your nieces correct, even if you cannot remember their ages. Girls do grow up, Robert.”
Rob rang for his butler and ordered a noon meal for them, then asked, “Would you like to rest a bit or freshen up before we eat?”
“I may be a grandmother, but I remain strong as a plow horse. We have much to discuss.”
“I shall have to find out what is involved in introducing a young lady to society,” he said distractedly. He had no idea about where to begin.
“I am not certain ′tis wise for Esther to do this, Robert. That is why I have come a year early. If your poor uncle Reginald and his sons had not passed so tragically, the gel would never have had the thought in her mind. She would have married among the gentry in Kent just as her mother and aunts did. We are country people. I do not want her hurt, Robert.”
“So you decided to see if the ton is as wicked and snobbish as everyone at home believes it to be.”
She nodded. “Would it be too great an imposition for you to introduce me to some of the ladies of your acquaintance? Perhaps that Baroness Oberly you mentioned in a recent letter?”
Ah, so now we get to the heart of the matter. “Why do I believe that you are more concerned with my marrying than you are with Esther’s having a season?” he asked wryly.
Abigail sighed. “I never could dissemble with you, could I, Robert? I confess that I want not only to protect Esther, but to protect you as well—whether you believe you require it or not,” she added before he could protest.
Rob raised his hands in resignation. “I suppose your arrival may be more timely than you thought. I would value your opinion of the baroness.”
“Second thoughts, Robert?” she asked shrewdly.
“When first we met, she appeared quite the perfect woman to become my countess, a sweet, charming young widow with an infant son…”
“What has happened to change your opinion?”
Gaby?…Fantasia?…Lord help him if he mentioned them! But how could he explain anything when he was so confused? He paced across the oriental rug and stared out the bow window at the busy street outside. Gathering his thoughts, he replied, “I have found that she has little interest in my work—or any of the reforms to which I am committed. Oh, she and her father attend my speeches in Lords now and then, but he is quite the Tory and sees any attempt to better the lot of the poor as radical and destructive of the social order.”
“I take it she has not expressed such harsh sentiments, else you would never have considered her,” she said.
“No, she has expressed no sentiments whatever regarding politics. She has a very limited understanding of the desperate conditions under which so many of our people live, even though she does have a kind manner with those in her employ.”
“She only attends the debates in Lords to gain your favor. Hmm,” Abigail said, stroking her pointed little chin.
“Perhaps I flatter myself overmuch to think that. I do not know.”
Abigail shook her head in frustration. “Robert, Robert, you have never had any idea of your worth—and I do not just mean your title, a burden only recently come to rest on your shoulders. You are good, kind, noble of spirit…and unconscionably handsome!” she added with a smirk.
Rob was shocked and it registered on his face. “Mother! If I acted upon such an inflated sense of worth, I would be vain as those toffs who spend half the day on their toilets before venturing out to promenade. Recall how Father cautioned about vanity?”
“I have little fear you will ever succumb to vanity,” she said dryly. “But you have turned women’s heads since you were a lad. Why do you think poor Credelia begged her father to allow her to marry below her station?”
Rob winced. No one in the family had the least idea how disastrous their marriage had been. As far as his mother knew, Credelia had died in a tragic accident that robbed him not only of his wife but his child as well.
“Oh, dear heavens, please forgive my bringing up such painful memories, Robert. I realize that your unhappiness with her kept you from considering a second marriage until inheriting the title forced you to do so.” She placed her hand on his arm gently, noting his expression of surprise, then apprehension.
“Did you think me incapable of linking your spoiled young wife’s behavior and your going off to war? You had no money to purchase a commission. I did not have to ask your uncle to know he had given it to you. And I am certain only the most extreme circumstances compelled you to do so.”
“I had hoped to spare you,” he said simply.
She hugged her son, then looked up into his troubled eyes. “Robert, you are too noble for your own good. So much has happened…since Credelia died. I wanted you to come to me and talk about your losses, but you were off in Spain, then preoccupied by your duties as Barrington. There never was time. Now we shall make some. First, you must arrange for me to meet this baroness and take her measure.”
Rob chuckled ruefully. “If you had had charge of Wellington’s armies, the war would have been won in half the time.”
Chapter Fourteen
As Abigail and Rob shared an early dinner, he described the gentlemen in Parliament he worked with—and those who worked against their causes. She was excited when he told her he would participate in a debate the following afternoon.
When she asked if she might attend, he replied, “These things can become, er, acrimonious. I do not think—”
“Balderdash, Robert. My ears shall not fall from my head if I hear a harsh word or two. I vow I’ve heard far worse from my second son-in-law when his new gelding dumped him on the ground Friday last. I am greatly interested in what members of Parliament think about the terrible unrest in the countryside.”
“You mean the Luddites who go about smashing machinery? Many rail against them but few understand or care why the poor benighted devils do as they do.”
Abigail’s brow
furrowed and her eyes flashed. “Then they are either blind or foolish or incredibly hard-hearted!”
“I shall allow you to observe the debate only if you promise not to pray aloud from the gallery for thunderbolts to strike down my opponents,” he said with a smile, adding, “However, silent prayer would be welcome.”
“I will do no such thing, aloud or under my breath,” she replied primly, pleased that she would get to see her once shy son actually speak before the peers of the realm.
Although she would never admit it, his mother was exhausted by her long and arduous coach trip. After a few delicate yawns, she made her excuses and retired for the night, eager for tomorrow.
Rob had explained that he was going out for a political gathering at one of his clubs that evening, which was true. What he neglected to tell her was that after the brief meeting, he would go to the House of Dreams…and Gaby. With so much emotion roiling in his soul, he wanted only the blind solace of the flesh. He knew that was selfish of him, but he also knew that she enjoyed their nights together as much as he.
After leaving Brooks he ruminated in his coach as the driver headed for St. John’s Wood. What would his mother think if she had any idea about his moral shortcomings? He should feel horribly guilty…but he did not. Gaby and Fantasia were good women. What he shared with each of them felt somehow…right. If that damned him as a lost soul, he was powerless to change his fate.
After he undressed in the assignation chamber to wait for Gaby, he doused the candle, plunging the room in darkness. “How can I bear to leave her…and never again to spar with Fantasia?” he murmured softly to himself.
What he truly wanted was a woman with Gaby’s innocent sensuality and Fantasia’s keen intellect, a woman who could share every facet of his life. Increasingly, he was certain that woman was not Baroness Oberly. How the devil was he going to have his mother meet her without giving the impression that this was a prelude to courtship?
The disturbing consideration was interrupted when a dim flash of light signaled Gaby’s arrival. She quickly closed the door before he could catch a glimpse of her. He strode toward her in the darkness. Having memorized the furniture placement in the room, he knew it better than his own sleeping quarters in the city house. With a breathless greeting, he embraced her and felt the warm reassurance of her arms around his neck. Her head tipped back and her lips parted eagerly when he lowered his mouth to hers.