“In—in principle," Selina stammered. “But where will you and Jeremy go?”
“At the risk of repeating myself, I cannot conceive that my whereabouts should be of the slightest concern to
you.”
“But how will you live?” Selina pressed. “Without Grandmama’s money?”
“Grandmama’s money?” The Earl emitted a mirthless chuckle. “Grandmama’s money has been the bane of my existence, and I suspect I should be far better off without it. Does it shock you to learn, Selina, that. I saved the greater portion of my allowance? I fancy it would prove an enormous shock to Grandmama. At any rate, I invested my savings abroad, and while the current return is very modest, I daresay Jeremy and I shall survive. And one day—one day not too distant—I shall have my own fortune. I shall repay Grandmama every farthing she ever gave me, and I shall be beholden to no one.”
“But—but. . .” Selina’s head was spinning. “If you do not want Grandmama’s money, why did you go to such extreme lengths to please her?”
“In the beginning. I did want it; I wanted it most desperately. I shall surprise you again, Selina: I could never have permitted Isabella to support me. Since my personal income was entirely insufficient to finance her tastes, I needed my allowance, and I was sure Grandmama would cut me off if she believed I had manufactured a marriage to worm my way into her good graces.”
His words had intoxicating implications, and Selina’s heart began to crash against her ribs. If Alex’s offer had not been prompted by a desire for Mrs. Seymour’s riches ...
“And even now,” his lordship mused, “I cannot say that I should refuse Grandmama’s money; I can only say that I shall no longer grovel for it. Perhaps money has an intrinsic fascination, eh, Selina? Why did you and Sir Matthew scheme to procure my alleged fortune? I am given to understand that Sir Matthew is exceedingly wealthy in his own right. So was it money for the
sheer sake of money that drove you to such extreme lengths?”
Too late; it was too late. “Perhaps so,” she muttered.
“In any event, the money no longer signifies; I simply wish to escape your clutches without oversetting Grandmama. I consequently propose we drive to Seymour Manor immediately after breakfast and advise her of our American holiday.”
“There is no need to drive to Seymour Manor,” Selina said dully. “Grandmama is here; she did not trust Addison to take her home in the rain, and I invited her to spend the night.”
“So much the better.” Alex rose and brushed an invisible piece of lint from one of his disreputable shirt- points. “As Grandmama is an early riser, she will undoubtedly present herself for breakfast very shortly, so I suggest we dress and join her as soon as possible.”
He bowed again and proceeded toward his bedchamber, and Selina trudged disconsolately in the opposite direction.
Selina was the last to reach the breakfast parlor, and she found the rest of the household in various stages of their morning meaf Evidently Grandmama and Sir Matthew had been the first to arrive: their plates were ! nearly empty, and they were chatting of the ferocious storm which had so unfortunately interrupted the assembly. It appeared that Papa and Jeremy had come next, for their plates were half empty. Jeremy had dis- ! covered a great benefit to the storm, one he was eagerly relating to Papa Jack: the rain had driven out thousands of worms. Jeremy had already captured several dozen, he reported proudly (the mud encrusting his clothes tended to confirm this), and he had imprisoned them in his room with the hope that he and Papa Jack might go fishing later in the day.
Selina swallowed a threat of nausea, served herself from the sideboard and took her customary chair. She glanced down the table at Alex, but it was impossible to judge how long he had been there: though his plate was almost full, he had laid his fork aside. He gave her
a great, meaningful stare and discreetly bobbed his head in Mrs. Seymour’s direction, but Selina gazed stonily at her own plate. It was his idea; let him present it.
“Well.” The Earl eventually cleared his throat, and the simultaneous discussions of worms and weather subsided. “Selina and I have an announcement.”
Matthew attempted to peer through the mahogany table top so as to study Selina’s waistline again, and she quelled a blush.
“I believe we have previously mentioned our desire to go on holiday,” his lordship continued, “and, now the ball is over, we should like to leave as soon as possible.”
“A splendid idea.” Grandmama nodded. “I myself find Bath a trifle crowded; perhaps you should try
Margate or Ramsgate.”
“Excellent suggestions,” Alex agreed, “but we have decided to go to America.”
“America?” Papa echoed.
“America?” Mrs. Seymour gasped.
“America?” Sir Matthew sputtered.
“America?" Jeremy wailed.
“You are to go with us, Jeremy,” the Earl said soothingly. “You and—er—Papa Jack as well.”
“But—but ...”
Matthew was still sputtering, and Selina realized he was well in the way of exposing her deception.
“You have not forgotten that I accepted your invitation?” she interposed hastily.
“My invitation?”
“Your invitation to accompany you back to Virginia.” She was keenly aware of Alex’s lavender eyes upon her, ' and she deliberately raised her brows at the former baronet, as though they shared a delicious secret.
“My invitation,” he repeated dubiously. Apparently he collected that—after a few too many glasses of champagne—he might have issued such an invitation, for he ventured a tentative smile. “Well, you are most— most welcome, of course.”
“Thank you, Sir Matthew,” the Earl said solemnly.
“But America is so very far away,” Grandmama lamented. “You are likely to be gone for months."
“Months," his lordship concurred.
“And who knows what misfortune might befall you?” Mrs. Seymour added.
“Who knows?”
Alex sighed, but Selina detected a familiar twitch at the corners of his mouth. The stage had been easily, neatly set: Grandmama would not be in the least surprised to learn of Selina’s tragic death.
“America is dangerous enough,” Mrs. Seymour went on, “but the journey between here and there can prove equally hazardous. There was an item in the paper just yesterday.” She plucked a copy of The Times from the table, leafed through it, shook her head. "I cannot locate the article just now, but the substance of it was that a ship bound from the United States to England recently sank. Bound from Virginia to England. Was it the Robin' No, but it had the name of a bird; the Nightingale perhaps.” Papa coughed and showered several drops of coffee on his neckcloth. “It sank with the loss of all aboard." Grandmama sorrowfully shook her head.
“Well, such things happen,” the Earl said gravely. “One must simply trust to luck.”
“You are quite right, Alex, but I hope you will not take it amiss if I choose to exercise some caution. I shall fervently pray that you and Selina return safely from America, but until you do, I shall not alter the disposition of my estate. It would prove most awkward if I entrusted my money to Selina and she predeceased me.”
“I understand, Grandmama.” His lordship nodded.
“Then let us make the best of the situation,” Mrs. Seymour said brightly. “I fancy you will find it most convenient to sail from Plymouth, and as it happens, Plymouth is a scene of great festivity just now.” She picked up The Times again and jabbed one Finger at the front page. “You are doubtless aware that Napoleon surrendered to the Regent some two weeks since, and the Emperor has now been moved from Torbay to
Plymouth, where he is confined aboard the Bellerophon. The paper predicts that the town will shortly be mobbed with citizens eager to view the wretched little Corsican, and I do not wish to miss the most thrilling event of my lifetime. Consequently, I shall also take a holiday: I < shall go with you to Plymouth and see you
off. As there is no way to know when Napoleon might be moved again, we must waste no time. No, we shall depart tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Selina thought wildly. Though she had stated a desire to leave Worfields as quickly as she could, she suddenly discovered herself unready. It was , a two-day journey to Plymouth, and a ship might well be sailing for America the day after that. If so, she would not see Alex again beyond Wednesday; she would have only seventy-two hours more ...
“I fear that is impractical, Grandmama,” she blurted out. “You have forgotten that we must close the house and discharge the servants—”
“But you need not, my dear,” Mrs. Seymour said, “for we shall make the best of that situation, too. As I mentioned last night, I have come to recognize that my j own staff is entirely inadequate, and I shall therefore : employ your servants while you are away. Naturally I shall send them back when you return from America, , but in the interim, they will be of great assistance to me. And I shall, of course, permit them to close ,< Worfields before they move to Seymour Manor. Is that not a satisfactory solution?”
“Yes,” Selina muttered. “Yes, it is.”
“Then we must not delay,” Grandmama reiterated. ' “I shall have Addison drive me directly to Trowbridge, i and I shall engage two chaises for tomorrow morning." * “Tomorrow!” Jeremy was shrieking with joy. “Ply- j mouth! Napoleon! America! Indians!”
He fairly danced into the foyer, and the rest of the group trailed behind him. Jeremy threw open the front door, and Miss Bradley nearly tumbled across the threshold.
“I rang the bell,” she said peevishly, “but no one , answered.”
“Well, I daresay the servants are occupied in the ballroom.” Mrs. Seymour gave their uninvited guest a | chilly smile. “And though I should adore to stay and chat, I’ve business to attend—”
“We are going to America, Miss Bradleyl” Jeremy interjected.
“America?” she echoed sharply.
“Yes; Alex and Selina and Papa Jack and I. But first we are going to Plymouth to see Napoleon. Oh, we shall have a bang-up time!” He clapped his hands and capered about again.
“It does sound most amusing,” Miss Bradley snapped.
“Why don’t you go with us?” Jeremy suggested. “I don’t mean all the way to America, but you could go to Plymouth.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible, Jeremy,” Grandmama said hastily. “The six of us will quite fill two chaises—”
“But I could take my phaeton,” Miss Bradley interrupted. “I daresay Alex or Sir Matthew would consent to keep me company.” Her coy smile embraced the two of them in turn. “Yes, it sounds most amusing indeed, and I believe I will go.”
Mrs. Seymour pursed her lips with annoyance, but evidendy she perceived no courteous means of escape. “Very well,” she said, “but you must be ready to leave promptly at six, Isabella.”
“Oh, I shall,” Miss Bradley promised. “Yes, I shall meet you here at six o’clock precisely.”
“Very well,” Grandmama said again.
She granted Miss Bradley a final, frigid nod and stalked on out to her carriage. Jeremy tugged Papa’s sleeve, begging him to come upstairs and view the worm collection, and Sir Matthew excused himself to his bedchamber, stating that he must begin his packing at once. As soon as they had disappeared, Miss Bradley flashed another coy smile.
“If we are to depart virtually at the crack of dawn, I must go home and pack as well,” she said. “And I did not intend to linger at any rate; I merely wished to return this.” She opened her reticule, withdrew the Earl’s neckcloth and draped it provocatively over his shoulder.
“Really, Alex, you are so careless; do you not find him so. Lady Worsham? Good day then; I shall see you tomorrow.”
She sailed through the door, and Selina crashed it to behind her and whirled to face his lordship.
“I shall say only two things,” she whispered. In view of the great lump in her throat, her voice was astonishingly steady. “The first is that you must immediately tell Jeremy he is not going to America; I will not have him disappointed at the last minute.”
“And the second?” Alex sounded curiously eager.
“If you do not make a good home for him—you and Miss Bradley—I shall come back to haunt you. From wherever I may be. dead or alive, I shall haunt you.”
“You are talking like a gypsy again.”
His tone was light, but his eyes were oddly dark, and Selina was in no huinor to puzzle out his reaction. To the contrary, the lump in her throat had swelled to alarming proportions, and she whirled once more and raced up the stairs. When she reached her bedchamber, she slammed the door closed and rushed across the carpet, jerked her trunk out from beneath the bed and flung it on the counterpane. She realized she should ring for Rose and instruct the maid to pack her clothes, but she did not believe she could utter another lie. She could not tell faithful Rose she would be in America only a few months, would shortly come back to Worfields . . .
She had packed all her evening gowns and was starting on the walking dresses when there was a knock on the sitting-room door. It couldn’t possibly be Alex, she reasoned, but her heart nevertheless began to drum against her ribs, and she dashed to the door and yanked it open.
“Papa,” she said dully.
“I should have come sooner, but Jeremy insisted we name his worms. I must own it was no easy task, for they were all wriggling together. However, you will be gratified to learn that one of them was named for you though I can't promise it was a female. Indeed, I am not at all certain that worms come in male and female genders . . .” He stopped and peered over her shoulder,
and his artificial smile disintegrated. “You are packing,” he commented gratuitously. “We are returning to America then.”
“Not all of us,” Selina responded. “Just you and I and Matthew.”
“Yes, I suspected as much. I could scarcely believe Alex would go abroad again so soon after his last excursion. And I imagine you will be killed off before he and Jeremy ‘sail back.’ ”
“So I shall.” Selina essayed a cheerful nod. “You should be very proud, Papa; it is merely a variation on your original notion.”
“So it is.” He nodded as well, and Selina thought he looked older, balder than ever before. Looked—despite his height and his expanding belly—oddly fragile.
“What is wrong, Papa?” she said gently. “You knew it would ultimately come to this. And if you’re concerned about the money, we’ve still sufficient jewels to pay our passage and live comfortably for a considerable time thereafter. To say nothing of the fact that I shall probably marry Sir Matthew—”
“But you don’t love Matthew,” Papa protested. “You love Alex; I perceived that weeks ago. And I had come to believe that he reciprocated your affection.”
“He found me compatible,” Selina corrected, “but I intended to accept his offer anyway—”
"Offer?” Papa barked. “Lord Worsham offered for you?”
“Yes, but that was before Matthew appeared, and Alex now thinks the three of us were scheming to purloin his fortune.”
“The three of us?” Papa frowned. “Why does Alex suppose that Matthew was involved?”
“Because in a stupid fit of pride, I told him Matthew and I were engaged, and he will never accept the truth .. .” To Selina’s dismay, her tears broke through, and she frantically blotted her eyes with one sleeve of her spencer. “It doesn’t signify, Papa; as Grandmama would say, we shall make the best of the situation. In short, you must pack and be ready to leave tomorrow morning.”
“Very well,” he agreed. “I daresay we should count it fortunate that we were not compelled to wait for news of the Nightingale." He plucked Mrs. Seymour’s news- ; paper from under his arm, glared at it, tossed it on the washstand. “It is nearly August, and the ship went down in April. But I shall not dwell on the miserable performance of The Times,” he added charitably. “I shall pack.”
He left, and Selina completed her own
packing and belatedly discovered she could not lift the loaded trunk off the bed. But that didn’t signify either, she decided wearily; the weather was warm, and, for this one last night, she could sleep atop the counterpane, next to the trunk. In fact, she could nap atop the counterpane, and she snatched Grandmama’s Times off the washstand, propped a pillow behind her neck and stretched out on the free portion of the bed.
She leafed impatiently through the paper, scanning every column on every page, but she could not find any reference to the ill-fated Nightingale. It must have been a very small item indeed, she surmised, and at length, she laid the newspaper on her stomach and drifted into unconsciousness.
Chapter 16
“I knew Isabella would prove the weak link in the ointment,” Grandmama said irritably.
“Fly,” Alex corrected.
“Chain,” Papa corrected.
The Counterfeit Countess Page 20