A letter from Harry arrived, and Selina rushed to the library to open it. He’d penned a ten-page missive, tactfully refraining from asking why she couldn’t just ask her husband. In Harry’s opinion, the Hussars were a brave lot, their work extremely dangerous, consisting mainly of reconnoitering and hit-and-run skirmishing to inform Wellington and disable the enemy. He had great admiration for them, despite what had happened at the Battle of Badajoz almost a year ago. The battle itself, he outlined in detail for five or six pages, explaining how thousands of British soldiers had been killed. Harry thought Devereux’s regiment would have been devastated. What followed brought great shame on the British army, as, after the British victory, came mass looting and disorder, when the redcoats sought revenge for their lost comrades. During a wanton sacking of Badozjoz, many homes were broken into, property stolen, and Spanish civilians killed. Scores of soldiers had been flogged as punishment, and a gallows was erected to hang those found guilty, although none faced the hangman.
This new information gave no clue to the French woman’s letter, but Devereux had sought Selina after this battle had taken place. Had he resigned in disgust? Why, when Wellington needed him most? He hadn’t suffered an injury. Selina had heard that gentlemen whose estates lacked an heir had returned home to ensure their lineage. At least she knew that Devereux hadn’t returned to fight. His uniform was proof of that. Wasn’t it?
****
In London, Giles had argued with his spymaster. Giles was all for showing himself, to bring those who wished him harm out into the open. But the spymaster ordered him to remain under cover.
William Nash was Giles’ contact with the spymaster. Nash was his friend and colleague, and Giles trusted him with his life. He’d been with Giles on the Peninsular at Badajoz. Like Giles, he was deeply ashamed by the actions of the British troops who went on a rampage of revenge.
Giles was to meet Will at a tavern north of Covent Garden in Seven Dials. In a narrow passage, he was minutes away from the tavern, when a man’s cry of pain and fear split the air.
Giles pulled his pistol from his coat and ran around the corner. Will slumped against the wall in the dark, foul-smelling lane.
“Will!” Giles crouched beside him, but could tell by his vacant stare that he was gone. Despair robbed him of breath. Anger twisting his guts, he searched Will’s pockets for anything he might return to the spymaster, to be passed on to Will’s family. Nothing. He’d been robbed. But was it just a robbery? Or had Will paid the ultimate price for aiding him? Should it be he lying there instead? If so, had the spy network been infiltrated by the French? Giles would have to cut himself off and wait. At the sound of running footsteps, he gripped his pistol and ran back the way he’d come. He would have to move on, leave the bleak room he’d inhabited.
Chapter Thirteen
“A stranger has been seen in the village, Lady Halcrow.’ The bailiff stood before Selina, hat in hand. “Lurking near Halcrow woods, too, apparently. I’ve been keeping a look out, but haven’t set eyes on him.”
“Do you think he’s a poacher?”
He shook his head. “Not by the sound of him. He wasn’t dressed like a local man.”
“Thank you for telling me, Brier.” Could he have been here to see Devereux? “If he’s found on Halcrow land, please come straight to me.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Tapping her chin, Selina walked the length of the library as a sense of urgency built. She couldn’t wait one more day. If Devereux was in England, he’d be in London. She would go to the city and confront him. No doubt, he’d be angry with her, but his anger would be easier to bear than being kept in the dark. It wasn’t unusual for gentlemen of the ton to leave their wives rusticating in the country while they kicked up their heels in London. But he’d expressed the need for an heir, so that made little sense. Whatever his reason, she wouldn’t allow him to continue treating her in this outrageous manner.
She pulled the bell cord.
“I shall be traveling to London in the morning,” Selina said when Frobisher entered. “I have yet to see the townhouse, which may have need of refurbishment.”
Frobisher’s eye widened. “A message should be sent first, my lady, to alert them of your arrival,” he said. “A skeleton staff is in residence until the Season begins in March. The house won’t be made ready.”
Selina smiled. “Then I know what to expect.” Neither she nor Frobisher mentioned the possibility that Devereux might be there.
“The roads will be close to impassable this time of year, my lady.”
“We have a good carriage and shall manage.”
“I trust you won’t travel at night, my lady? If you plan to, you should take Joseph.”
“We shall leave at first light, Frobisher,” Selina said, touched by his concern. “And Joseph will come too.”
“And Sarah, my lady?”
“Yes, send my maid to me.” Selina made these small concessions to convention. Before she’d become a lady, she’d gone where she pleased unescorted.
At dawn, the carriage took Selina away from Halcrow Hall again. On her instructions, the coachman was to stop merely to change the horses and partake of a quick meal.
It was dusk when they reached the farms supplying London with produce. They drove on through the ramshackle London environs and into the bustling, smoggy metropolis as night approached.
Across the road in Park Lane, beyond the wall, the Hyde Park gardens lay in shadow. The carriage stopped before an imposing house of four stories, two floors featuring long windows and another two floors of smaller windows above. As no footmen came to greet them, Selina took the groom’s hand and alighted from the carriage. At the sight of the grand house, her confidence faded, her legs trembling at what might await her inside. Would Devereux be furious? She was so angry herself she welcomed it. But what if he sent her back to Halcrow Hall?
The coachman drove the carriage to the stables in the mews with Joseph, who was uncharacteristically mute. She wasn’t one to give up without a fight. Smoothing her crumpled pelisse, she tugged at her gloves, straightened her bonnet, and climbed the steps to the shiny black double doors.
A maid answered her knock, and when informed her mistress was standing in the porch, she dropped into a curtsy.
Selina entered the wide black-and-white tiled entry hall, followed by Sarah. A graceful marble staircase swept up to the floors above disappearing into shadow. She removed her outer garments. “Lord Halcrow?”
“He’s not here, milady.”
Selina wasn’t sure if she was sorry or relieved. Devereux’s absence would give her time to strengthen her resolve. “Where is the butler?”
“Mr. Hawkins is at supper, my lady, with Mrs. Hawkins, the housekeeper.”
“Please send a footman to fetch them.”
“The footman is below stairs too….” The maid put her hand to her mouth.
“Having his supper.” Selina finished her sentence with a smile. “What is your name?”
“Mary, milady.”
“Mary, would you please fetch either Mr. or Mrs. Hawkins?”
With a bob, the maid darted along the passage toward the servants’ stairs.
Selina walked into a grand reception room with plush gold wallpaper. Sarah gaped at the statues on each side of the carved white marble fireplace. Moments later, a tall, flustered woman entered the room.
“Mrs. Hawkins, my lady.” She curtseyed, but not before Selina caught the curiosity in the woman’s eyes.
Well, she had expected it.
The butler followed, breathing heavily. He was nothing like Frobisher. He bowed, but she didn’t warm to the disdainful expression on his long face and his stiff formal manner. “Mr. Hawkins.”
“How do you do. I’m sorry to interrupt your meal. We shall discuss housekeeping matters tomorrow, Mrs. Hawkins. I’ll take a light supper in my room. This is my maid, Sarah. Could you please see that she is shown where she is to sleep and is given dinner? Th
en please return to me, Sarah.”
“But of course.” Mr. Hawkins clapped his hands. A footman in livery appeared.
“If you’ll kindly show me the way to my bedchamber, Mrs. Hawkins,” Selina said.
Selina followed Mrs. Hawkins’ thin, upright body up the sweep of marble stairs.
“We were expecting you and his lordship earlier, my lady,” Mrs. Hawkins said, “And then, when you didn’t come, we weren’t sure what to expect.” She managed to sound put-upon and deferential at the same time.
“Yes, unfortunately we were needed at Halcrow Hall. I apologize for not advising you of my arrival, Mrs. Hawkins. I won’t stand on ceremony, have no fear.”
The handsome chamber was as large as those at Halcrow Hall and much better cared for. Apparently, the London mansion was kept in good order for Devereux. An upstairs maid was already kneeling at the hearth lighting a fire and another made up the four-poster bed hung with gold damask.
“I’ve sent for hot water, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hawkins.”
Flames leapt in the grate, and the room took on a warm, welcoming light. The maids finished their work, curtseyed, and left the room.
“There’s a water-closet down at the end of the hall, Lady Halcrow.”
Selina moved closer to the burgeoning fire, chilled through to her bones, more with apprehension than the cold. “When is lordship expected?”
The housekeeper’s brows rose. “Why Lady Halcrow, we haven’t set eyes on his lordship since he traveled to Bath for your wedding.”
“Lord Halcrow was recently called away to a sick relative’s bedside. He must still be in Tunbridge Wells.”
Devereux hadn’t come here. Perturbed, Selina went to pull the curtain aside and look out the window, giving herself time to regain her composure. She could sense Mrs. Hawkins’ eyes on her back. Had she come on a wild goose chase?
Across the lane in the park, shapes detached themselves from deep shadows and moved stealthily through the trees.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Sarah entered with Selina’s hot chocolate. Selina sat up in bed with the warm cup in her hands. As she sipped, she grappled with her difficult situation. She didn’t feel comfortable in this house. The butler and housekeeper were haughty, and while they didn’t dare show her disrespect, she sensed they found her an unsuitable countess. Without Devereux here as a buffer, she felt vulnerable and out of place. Her discomfort meant little, however, compared to her fears for him, and her chin trembled whenever she thought of him. She couldn’t bear to consider what dreadful fate might have befallen him. Might he be lying ill somewhere? She’d even prefer him to be in another woman’s bed. Fed up with her disturbing thoughts, she threw back the covers.
“I shall wear my lavender walking dress and my leather half-boots, Sarah.” She would visit the Horse Guards. It wasn’t far from here. She’d enjoy a walk.
“London’s ever so busy, my lady. And the noise!” Sarah took Selina’s gown from the wardrobe.
“You’d rather be in the country?”
Sarah giggled. “Oh no, my lady. It’s very exciting.”
Mr. Hawkins’ scandalized expression followed Selina into the street. It began to rain, and she unfurled her umbrella. The pavement was crowded with maids, liveried footmen, and well-dressed gentlemen all going about their business. At the corner, a street sweeper held up the traffic, and she slipped him a penny to cross the road. Two women walked past with pattens on their feet. The circular rings attached to their shoes raised them above the gutters and piles of horse manure. She would never wear them. A person couldn’t stride out, and mincing along would surely get on her nerves.
By the time Selina had reached Hyde Park Corner, she’d had quite enough of the trying conditions. She removed the hanky shielding her nose and hailed a passing hackney. When the vehicle put her down in Horse Guards Road, she paid the jarvey and crossed to Army Headquarters.
A soldier barred her way.
“Lady Halcrow,” she said. “I wish to see someone in authority.”
“Do you have an appointment, Lady Halcrow?”
“It’s of vital importance that I do. A matter of life and death.”
Impervious to her dramatic plea, the soldier dismissed her, staring beyond her left ear. “Surely, there’s someone here who can tell me where the Earl of Halcrow is to be found. I am his wife.”
Suddenly, the soldier came to life, saluting a man in a greatcoat who’d alighted from a carriage. The man was about to enter the building when he turned back. He raised his tall black hat. “You are Lady Halcrow?”
“Do you know the earl, sir?”
He nodded his head and gestured toward the doorway. “Come with me, if you will, Lady Halcrow.”
Inside, soldiers stood to attention as they passed. Selina followed the man who was obviously important, along a corridor. He stood aside and gestured for her to step into his office. Shutting the door behind them, he turned to shake her hand. “George Scovell. Please sit down, Lady Halcrow. May I offer you refreshment?”
“No, thank you.” Selina sat, arranged her skirts and gazed into eyes sharp with intelligence. “Do you have news of my husband, Mr. Scovell?”
Scovell removed his greatcoat and hat and hung them on a stand. He smoothed his bushy grey sideburns with measured movements and then sat behind his desk. He formed a steeple with his fingers, his gaze anchoring her attention. “We are not sure where Lord Halcrow is at the present time, my lady.”
Selina stared at him. “Might he be on the Continent?”
“I don’t believe so.”
Her throat tightened. “He’s not here in London, surely.”
“His lordship has been.” He glanced toward the closed door. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Except to say that you should go home. Wait for word. You must be patient, for his lordship will return to you in good time. All being well.”
“All being well?” Selina rubbed the tight skin at her temples. Her head had begun to ache.
He frowned. “There are many dangerous people in London, Lady Halcrow. Your being here mightn’t serve your husband well. I suggest you return to the country. There’s little society in London until Parliament sits.”
“I am not here for the society.” She searched his eyes, but his hooded expression told her nothing. “Why would my presence here cause my husband trouble?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Then please just tell me where he is.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“You can’t, or you won’t? Or perhaps you don’t know where he is yourself?”
He sighed. “At the present time, my lady, all apply.”
“Might my husband be a spy, Mr. Scovell?”
He raised shaggy brows. “Surely you don’t expect me to give you information regarding the army’s intelligence services.”
“I’m not easily fobbed off, Mr. Scovell.”
“I quite see that,” he said thoughtfully. “Do you have a carriage waiting?”
She jumped up, her heart pounding in unison with her head. “I came in a hackney. I’ll walk.”
“That will not do. This is not a country estate. A soldier will escort you home in my carriage.” He called to his aide. When the man appeared, Scovell barked orders at him and sent him hurrying from the room.
“There’s really no need. I’m sure to find a hackney.”
“Most unwise. I must ask you to be careful who you take into your confidence, Lady Halcrow.”
“Unless you can tell me why, I can’t see how I’ll know who to be careful about,” she said, her voice rising with her frustration.
His mouth thinned, but his manner remained annoying cool. “Just know that, by your actions, you might place the earl’s life at risk.”
Selina leveled him with a scowl, hiding how anxious his words had made her. “How can I possibly harm him just by being here in London?”
“Don’t dou
bt that Napoléon’s spies will resort to using you to gain information.”
“Then they would be wasting their time. I have nothing of importance to tell them.”
“More than you think. You are asking questions where prying eyes might be watching.”
Sheer black fright swept through her. “Can you at least tell me if Lord Halcrow is still in London?”
He shook his head and tapped a finger to his nose.
“Then good day to you.” She snatched up her reticule and left his office, not waiting for him to reply. Outside the building, an armed soldier waited by the carriage. One glance at his rifle and she didn’t feel strong enough to argue. Burdened by Scovell’s stark warning, she could do little but allow him to escort her back to Park Lane. She mounted the steps. The soldier closed the door after her.
During the carriage ride, Selina tried to make sense of what Mr. Scovell had hinted at. French spies were operating secretly in London. Was Devereux one of them? Could he have gone over to the French? Was that why Scovell refused to tell her? She dismissed that out of hand. He might not even be in England, perhaps behind enemy lines at this very moment. She shivered.
She’d been foolish to come to London. Devereux would be angry, but he had himself to blame. He could have written, told her to stay with her sister until he contacted her. Or had he been suddenly whisked away? Frobisher had said Devereux left of his own free will, so that didn’t fit. Clasping her hands, she wound her wedding ring around her finger. She could make sense of none of it. Devereux had said he would never be cruel or lie to her. Instead, he kept her in the dark, which now seemed even crueler.
Selina spent the rest of the week with Mrs. Hawkins, whose manner toward her had warmed. The house appeared to be efficiently run. There was little for her to do, except discuss the menus with the housekeeper. She felt oddly like an interloper and roamed the leafy Mayfair streets with Sarah, where extensive building was taking place.
Selina’s arrival in London had been noted, however, for several invitations arrived, and the butler presented her with gilt-edged visiting cards on a silver salver. Not confident to deal with strangers, she instructed him to make her excuses. If Devereux didn’t come soon, she would return to Halcrow Hall. She was rapidly becoming exhausted at hiding behind false bravado. She would go soon. In the country she could pass the days more proficiently. But once she’d decided to leave, desperation and a sense of bitter failure made her feel quite ill.
At the Earl's Convenience Page 8