by Jayne Davis
But all that was too much to think about now. All she wanted to do was to get home and feel safe in Marstone House. Aunt Aurelia would be back from her afternoon card party in an hour, expecting to find Bella fully rested and preparing for Mrs Roper’s rout.
Chapter 10
“She did what?” Nick gazed at Archer, sitting at ease in the chair at the other side of the desk. “Not alone, surely?”
“No, sir. She had Molly Simons and Langton with her, and a foreign gentleman. A Senhor da Gama.”
Da Gama again? He must ask Talbot if he’d found out anything yet, although he’d only enquired yesterday. If the gossips found out about the expedition, Lady Isabella would likely find herself returned to Marstone Park—he could not think that the earl would approve of such exploits. That would keep her out of trouble, but it would also remove any possibility of his being able to keep his word to Wingrave. Nor could he wish such a fate on her.
“Langton sent a message to me, sir, and I got there as soon as I could.” Archer smiled, although there was little humour in it. “He’ll go far, that lad—told the coachman to take a long way round to give me more time.”
“It would have been better if he’d stopped her going,” Nick said, then shook his head. “No, that’s unfair.”
“There’s not much a footman could have done,” Archer agreed. Nick listened to Archer’s account. Taking da Gama with her showed some sense, even if he could have done little to help them if Archer had not turned up.
He pinched the bridge of his nose—he couldn’t really blame her. Most gently bred young ladies would have no idea of the true dangers that awaited them in such a place, let alone one who’d been kept as isolated as Lady Isabella.
“Why did she go?”
“Langton said she was looking for a seamstress who had been turned off. She has some notion it was her fault, but Langton didn’t know the reason.”
“She didn’t find what she wanted?”
“No.”
“I hope you told her not to do such a thing again.”
“No, sir. It’s not my place to give orders to Lady Isabella. Lady Cerney could, but I’m fairly certain she knows nothing about the expedition, nor do any of the servants that might tell her.”
Her aunt could stop Lady Isabella trying again, if she hadn’t learned her lesson today. But he couldn’t drop a hint to Lady Cerney about keeping a closer eye on her—she would want to know the reason, and that could result in Lady Isabella being returned to her father. Lady Cerney might overlook it in the interests of keeping Marstone’s money, but he couldn’t be sure.
“I told Langton and Simons not to accompany her again, and I doubt any of the other footmen would,” Archer said.
“Even if she orders them?”
“I made it clear that Lord Wingrave’s promise to employ anyone who lost their job for assisting her does not include helping her to put herself in danger. But the maid reckons Lady Isabella’s not the type to put them at risk, so I don’t think she’d try again.”
“Thank you, Archer.” Nick recalled the extra men Archer had hired. “Are you out of pocket for this?”
“Not yet, sir. Lord Wingrave left me with plenty of funds.”
“Come to me if you need more.”
Archer nodded, producing a folded piece of paper from his pocket as he stood. “Simons sent this, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Archer bowed and left.
Damn. He’d have to speak to her again, and she hadn’t taken kindly to his mild warning about Senhor da Gama. From what he’d heard, Wingrave had been headstrong and foolhardy in his youth—his sister could be just the same. He had to make her understand the dangers of what she’d done. Unfolding the paper Archer had given him, he deciphered the untidy scrawl.
Rowt at Mrs Ropers tonite. Voxhal in 5 days.
Nick sighed. He’d told Mrs Roper he would attend her rout if he was free, but he was also promised to Gilbert, to discuss the progress of his latest report. He’d go to the rout first, and leave as soon as he’d spoken to Lady Isabella.
Nick arrived early, while Mrs Roper was still greeting guests at the door. She welcomed him with a smile and a murmur that Jemima was in the blue parlour, if he would like a word with her. He obediently made his way there, recalling that Miss Roper had seemed friendly with Lady Isabella. If his charge had already arrived, he might find her there.
He couldn’t see her in the parlour, but he stayed to make the usual conversation with Miss Roper—discussing the number of people expected, the weather, and her thoughts on the play last night. They spent a few minutes on the relative merits of Sheridan and Shakespeare, then she asked him if he had been to the Royal Academy exhibition.
“Yes, indeed. I was much struck by The Night-Mare,” he said, wondering what she’d made of that strange image.
Her face reddened. “I’m afraid Mama did not like me looking at that one. She said it was not proper for—”
“Good evening, Mr Carterton.”
The interruption cut across Miss Roper’s words, and Nick turned in irritation. Miss Quinn stood behind him, a coy smile upon her face.
“Miss Quinn.” He bowed and turned back to Miss Roper. “I suppose it is a little—”
“Such marvellous paintings,” Miss Quinn said. “I do so admire the skill of the artists.”
Miss Roper took the second interruption in good part, one side of her mouth lifting. “I’m sure my mother will be needing me,” she said. “I have enjoyed talking to you, Mr Carterton. I hope to see you at Lady Durridge’s musicale the day after tomorrow.”
Nick watched as she dipped a brief curtsey and walked away. When he turned back to Miss Quinn, the smile on her face looked a little forced. “I, too, admired the paintings,” he said. “Excuse me. I’ve just seen someone I need to talk to.” He bowed, and walked off before she could reply. Rude, perhaps, but no worse than the way she had interrupted his conversation with Miss Roper.
In need of a breath of fresh air, he made his way through the assembled guests to the floor-length windows. They opened onto a terrace across the back of the house, still damp from the earlier rain. The clouds had cleared, and the terrace might be useful for a private conversation.
He glanced at his watch and tucked it back in his pocket. He’d sent a note round to Gilbert saying he’d be late, but if Lady Isabella didn’t appear soon, he’d have to go. He headed back to the central hall, looking into what must normally be a music room, then into a chamber with a long table of food. Finally, he spotted Lady Cerney talking to someone he didn’t recognise. Lady Isabella stood beside her, looking… bored? Tired? That wouldn’t be surprising, given what Archer had told him. If she’d been here all along, he’d wasted his time in idle conversation.
No, that wasn’t fair. Miss Roper could talk sensibly, and he’d made a start on keeping his promise to his father.
Lady Cerney inclined her head towards him as he approached, then took the arm of the woman she was talking to and moved away. Lady Isabella looked after her in dismay.
“You appear to have been abandoned, my lady,” Nick said, managing to keep his tone polite. Although he needed to speak to Lady Isabella alone, he resented the blatant way that Lady Cerney seemed to be pairing them off, as well as the need to have this conversation at all.
Lady Isabella lurched towards him as someone jostled her from behind, and he put a hand out to steady her.
“Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze briefly before lowering her eyes. A blush coloured her cheeks. She had not been so shy before—or was that guilt? She must know that Archer would report to him.
“I hope you are well?”
Her lips compressed, as if she suspected he was needling her, but she inclined her head politely. “Thank you, yes.”
It was his turn to take a step forward as someone pushed past him. Not only was this not a place for private speech, it was not a place for any kind of conversation at all.
“There is a terrace behind the house.
Would you care to take a stroll on it with me?”
He thought she was about to refuse, but she squared her shoulders and nodded. Rather than offer his arm, he turned and shouldered his way through, hoping she could follow in his wake. When they reached the terrace, he breathed in the cooler air with relief.
“Are parties always like this?” Lady Isabella asked, gazing back into the room.
“Many of them. That’s why I avoid them as much as possible.” Ignoring her choke of laughter, he looked along the terrace. Two men stood at the far end talking, but they had the rest of the space to themselves. The hubbub of voices from inside ensured they would not be overheard.
“I hear you had an adventurous afternoon,” he started.
The amusement left her face. “That is one way of describing it, yes.”
“What did you hope to achieve by going into such an area? And accompanied by someone you know so little about?” He made an effort to keep his voice calm—it would not do to draw attention.
She lifted her chin and looked away. Nick waited, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to answer.
“Do you realise the danger you put yourself in? And your maid and footman, too.” Irritation, and the need to keep his voice down, sharpened his tone.
She scowled—there was no other word for that mutinous expression. “They could not have stolen much.”
“Losing your purse should have been the least of your worries.” A beautiful innocent like her, brought up as she had been, could not even conceive of being sold to a brothel. Damn Marstone.
“We came to no harm, Mr—”
“Only because Archer arrived in time.” He would not think of what might have happened to them without Archer’s help.
“Senhor da Gama and Langton had matters in hand.” Although she, too, kept her voice low, there was no mistaking the truculence.
“Wingrave asked me to look out for—”
“You said he asked you to prevent my father forcing a husband on me. This has nothing to do with my marriage prospects.” She dipped a small curtsey, and when she spoke again she was icily polite. “Excuse me, I must find my aunt.” Without waiting for a reply she turned on her heel and stalked back into the house.
He rubbed his forehead. That went well!
There was no point in trying to resume their… discussion—he would end up losing his temper, or causing her to do so. And he was late for his appointment. He looked out over the garden. Damp be hanged—rather than push through the crowds inside yet again, he would find the gate onto the mews behind.
Bella stopped inside the doors, partially concealed by the curtains, and took deep breaths. She could not make polite conversation while she was still so angry.
How dare he reprimand her like that?
Because he was right, a little voice said. She closed her eyes, guilt beginning to replace the anger. He’d only spoken the truth, and she had berated him. Will, had he been in London, would have surely said much more, and with justification.
She leaned on the wall, wanting nothing more than to be in her bed. After the events of the day, and now the crush in Mrs Roper’s rooms, she felt more tired than she’d ever felt before.
“Lady Isabella, why are you hiding in here?”
Her eyes flew open.
Lord Barnton stood before her, holding one edge of the curtain back. He bent forward to see behind the curtain, a frown creasing his brow. “Are you unwell?”
“No, my lord.” He looked curious rather than concerned, and she didn’t want to have to talk to him now. “I was a little overcome by the heat, but I am well now.”
“A turn on the terrace would assist your recovery, my lady.”
“I am perfectly recovered, thank you,” she repeated, trying to stop her impatience showing in her voice.
“Then let me take you for some refreshment. A glass of lemonade would revive you.”
“Thank you.” Unfortunately, it would be too impolite to tell him to go away and let her think. She placed one hand on his arm, and looked about her for inspiration as they crossed the room. If she could start him lecturing her again…
A large black vase stood on a side table, decorated with golden pavilions, arched bridges, and strange, twisted trees. “That is a beautiful vase.”
Lord Barnton raised a quizzing glass to scrutinize it, then tapped it gently with one fingernail. “It is British-made porcelain, Lady Isabella, not true lacquerware.”
“But it is pretty, is it not?” Bella raised her eyes to his, trying for the innocent expression that had sometimes worked on Nanny after an incident in the nursery. “Why does its origin matter?”
“True lacquerware originates in the east, in…”
She had been terrified as Senhor da Gama and Langton faced those two men. She didn’t want to imagine what could have happened if the others approaching had not been in Archer’s pay.
Telling Mr Carterton he should only concern himself with her possible husband was splitting hairs, and she’d been rude to him.
She should apologise.
“…sap from a tree that grows only in that country. Imitations…”
Molly and Langton deserved an apology, too. She had put both of them in danger. They could have refused to accompany her, she supposed, but most servants would not disobey direct orders.
“…japanning produces an adequate finish…”
What would she have done if Langton and Molly had refused? Going on her own would only have been possible if she had persuaded Langton to give her the address. She could have made up some complaint to threaten his job if he did not tell her, but she dismissed that thought instantly. That would be as unfair as the way Fletcher had been treated. Worse, as Langton’s refusal would only have been to protect her.
“…bought by persons of insufficient wealth to obtain the real thing, or too little refinement to wish for the genuine product.”
Bella realised that Lord Barnton was awaiting an answer this time. “Thank you for explaining it to me, my lord.”
He patted her hand where it still rested on his arm. “A pleasure, Lady Isabella.” He bowed and walked away. He’d forgotten that he was going to get her some refreshment, but Bella wasn’t sorry to see him go.
She still hadn’t found Fletcher. She could persuade her aunt she needed another fitting at Madame Donnard’s tomorrow, and see if Dawkins could tell her anything. That might work.
“Lady Isabella.”
Bella sighed, then pasted on a smile and turned, wishing she’d asked Lord Barnton to take her to her aunt after all. The man before her was middle aged, with beady eyes, no smile… she searched her memory. “Lord Narwood.” She made a small curtsey.
“All alone, Lady Isabella?” He ran his gaze from her face down her body, then slowly back again. Bella resisted the impulse to fold her arms across her chest.
“As you see, my lord.”
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do—Aunt Aurelia had left her as soon as Mr Carterton appeared, then she… well, being left alone after that was hardly her fault. She could not just start conversations with people to whom she had not been introduced.
“I should find my aunt. Excuse me.”
“Dear me. Allow me to escort you.” He held out one arm, and she had little choice but to accept his offer. “Your gown becomes you.”
Bella was uncomfortably aware that her short stature made it easy for someone standing as close as he was to look down on her bosom. Of course, no gentleman would do so. No real gentleman, she thought, catching his head turning away abruptly as she glanced up at him. She made to remove her hand from his arm, but he put his own hand over hers, holding it in place.
“Did your father send you to school, Lady Isabella?”
“No, my lord. I was taught at home.”
“You have older sisters, do you not? Did you accompany them to Town when they were presented?”
“No, I was… I remained at home.”
Lord Narwood nodded, as
if she had given the correct answer. His hand was still firm on her own. Where was her aunt? Bella looked around, but she could not see over people’s heads.
“Are your sisters married? Do you have many nieces and nephews?”
Bella opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. From someone else, such a question might have led to a friendly conversation about families, but his eyes on her were cold. Assessing.
“My aunt may be in the retiring room, my lord. If you will excuse me, I will go and look.” She had no idea where the retiring room was, but tugged her hand from his grip and made her way as quickly as she could out of the room. She needed to find someone she recognised. Anyone—even Lord Barnton— would be welcome to get her away from Lord Narwood and out of this noisy, jostling collection of people. At last she spotted Lady Tregarth.
“Bella, are you all right?”
“I’m looking for my aunt, my lady. Have you seen her?”
Lady Tregarth shook her head. “Not for some time—she was in the card room. From what I’ve heard of her, she’s like to be there for some time yet.”
“Oh.” Perhaps she could find Jemima, and ask if there was somewhere quiet she could wait.
“It is too bad of her to abandon you like this,” Lady Tregarth went on. “Shall I take you home? You can leave a note for your aunt.”
“If you please, my lady. Thank you.”
She would write a letter to Mr Carterton when she got home, and hope he would accept her apology.
Chapter 11
“Try again.”
Luis scowled at the scrawny youth sitting across the battered table, who had introduced himself only as ‘Ben’. Given the man’s skills, Luis wasn’t surprised he didn’t want to give his full name. With a sigh, he pulled the locked box towards him again and picked up the tiny tools. He put one of them into the lock and twisted it gently.
“Feel it,” Ben said. “Close your eyes, and see through your fingers.”
It sounded stupid, but Luis closed his eyes anyway.
“Feel the bolt?”