by Jayne Davis
Don Felipe had been very convincing in his initial letter—a letter that he was told to keep hidden from his father. He’d told a sad a tale of a mother ruthlessly abandoned in favour of a more prestigious marriage, and himself sent as a baby to a poor family to hide his existence from the world and from his father’s new wife. Later letters had fed his resentment before offering the enticing possibility of claiming what was ‘rightfully his’.
A sick feeling of shame filled him—how could he have believed Papá would willingly abandon his mother like that? Abandon him as a baby? Papá hadn’t abandoned him, but treated him as a valued son.
He’d believed Don Felipe’s story and his promises because he’d wanted to.
And what would Papá say about his attempts to seduce two respectable women? Not to mention his idiocy in believing Don Felipe without even checking whether such a thing was possible.
He should go home. There would be plenty of time on the voyage to decide how he could explain his absence to his father.
Back in his room, Luis pulled his trunk from beneath the bed, thankful that Mendes was not in the habit of attending him at night. The trunk was far too small to hold all his new clothing—he would buy a bigger one tomorrow and then find an agent who could book his passage home.
Did he have enough money?
He sank onto the bed with a curse. He’d already spent or lost over half of the cash Don Felipe had given him the day before. This was not going to be as easy as he’d hoped. Running a hand down the velvet of the elaborate coat he still wore, he wondered how much he could sell it for. This, and the other fine suits, might be enough to buy his passage home. He would work out the details in the morning.
Pushing the trunk back under the bed, he began to undress. It would take time to make his arrangements, and he must give no clue about his change of heart to Don Felipe until he was ready to leave. Not even then, he reflected, trying to think it through. Don Felipe would not want his spying activities made public—not in England, and not in Spain, either. Was the man ruthless enough to have him killed to ensure his silence? He couldn’t risk it.
Was Don Felipe even working for the Spanish government? Luis cursed himself again. Don Felipe was unlikely to have told him if he’d asked, but the question hadn’t even occurred to him.
No-one must know that he had failed tonight.
Chapter 22
The confrontation came shortly after noon the next day. Bella had spent part of the morning packing some of her plainest gowns in a small trunk, and writing letters for Langton to take to Archer and Maria Jesson. She didn’t know what was to happen, and it was best to be prepared. Then she was due to make yet more tedious calls with her aunt. She was waiting for Aunt Aurelia in the hall when the butler appeared.
“Lord Marstone wishes to see you in his study, Lady Isabella.”
“I am on my way out, Mowbray. Can it not wait?” Even as she spoke, Bella knew it was futile. With a sigh, she pulled at her bonnet ribbons.
Her father sat in a chair by the blazing fire with a glass of brandy to hand on a nearby table. Bella took the seat facing his. Her determination to stand her ground did not prevent her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest, or dispel the sick feeling in her stomach.
“Lord Narwood has written to make an offer of marriage to you.” He lifted a paper in his right hand, his left lying unmoving in his lap. “Aurelia did not mention his name yesterday. Why did I not know about this?”
“You would have to ask Aunt Aurelia, Papa.”
“Hmpf.” He flapped the letter. “A viscount is below my station, certainly, but it has the advantage of getting you off my hands quickly. He has wealth, and political influence.” He stared at Bella, then smiled. “Yes, it will do nicely. Ring the bell. Mowbray can summon Staverton to write the contract and apply for a special licence. Narwood is as keen to see this deal made as I am.”
Bella fingernails dug into her palms. She hadn’t wanted to use the scene she’d set up last night, but she had no choice. Even if Mr Carterton could find some way of dissuading Lord Narwood, there wouldn’t be time to put it into effect.
“Papa, Lord Narwood only wants to marry me because he needs an heir.”
“What of that? That is why most men marry.”
Could she really do this?
She thought of Narwood’s cold gaze, the way he inspected her person, and felt again that cold shiver.
Yes, she could. Life as a spinster was far preferable.
“Papa, what would happen if Lord Narwood discovered…?”
“Discovered what? Come on, out with it, girl!”
Bella looked at her father’s scowl, and swallowed against a lump in her throat. She had never rebelled like this before, and wasn’t sure what he might do. “That his heir was not of his blood.” It came out little more than a whisper.
“What? What have you done?” Her father’s face turned red. “Mowbray! Mowbray!”
Bella winced at his shout, but sat still.
“My lord?” Mowbray stood by the door.
“Fetch Lady Cerney. At once!”
Mowbray bowed, closing the door behind him.
“Well, girl?”
Before she could speak, her father took a shuddering breath and then coughed, his face becoming darker, almost purple.
“What is it now, brother?” Aunt Aurelia hurried into the room, still clad in redingote and bonnet.
He jabbed a finger towards Bella. “I want an explanation of… what this slut has… just told me.” His voice was weaker than before, with pauses as he gasped another breath. “I was paying you to… introduce her into society… not to let her comp… compromise herself.”
“She has not.” Aunt Aurelia didn’t even glance at Bella. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Her father slapped his hand onto the arm of his chair. “She told me that—”
“Do you really wish all the servants to know, Marstone?” Aunt Aurelia gestured towards the door, where the butler still stood. “Mowbray, tell the coachman we will not be needing him.”
“An explanation, madam.” Papa was recovering his breath now. “Damme, Aurelia, I’ll not… not pay your bills if this is true.”
“Isabella has been chaperoned at all times.” She glanced at Bella, raising one brow. “I have no notion when she could have done any such thing.”
“Chaperoned by you, Aurelia? That… that is what I am paying you for.”
“By me, her maid, or the mother of one of her friends.” She tilted her head, her lips pursed. “You agreed to reimburse me for introducing her to society, not for acting as some kind of nursemaid.”
“I paid you to arrange a suitable match. I have had…” He broke off to wheeze again. “I’ve had an offer from someone who was not on your list.”
Aunt Aurelia turned to Bella. “Narwood?”
Bella nodded. “He told me he would last night.”
“You did know!” Papa glared at his sister. “Why did you not—?”
“I gave you a list of suitable prospects. Narwood is not suitable.”
“I will be the judge of that.”
Aunt Aurelia shrugged. “What, exactly, do you think Bella has done?”
He glared at Bella. “Tell her.”
Bella looked down at her hands.
“Perhaps Isabella wishes to tell me in private?” Aunt Aurelia rose. “Excuse us. Come, Isabella.”
“Aurelia! Do not walk away—” Her father pushed himself out of his chair as he spoke, lurching forwards before one leg buckled and he grabbed at the chair Bella had just left. He clung to it, almost falling to the floor.
“Calm yourself, brother,” Aunt Aurelia said. “Mowbray, his lordship needs assistance!”
She didn’t wait to see what the butler did, but led the way across the hall into the parlour. Bella looked over her shoulder to see that Papa was being helped back into his chair, then hurried after her aunt.
“Now, Isabella, what have you done?”
“Miss Yelland and Miss Quinn found me in a private parlour with Senhor da Gama at the ball last night.” That was almost true—they certainly suspected that Luis had been there.
“What happened?”
Bella didn’t reply. She had not anticipated her aunt questioning her in detail.
Aunt Aurelia sighed. “Marstone is likely to refuse to pay my bills now whether or not you wed Narwood.” She smiled, her eyes remaining cold. “Although he’s already paid some of them. The problem with buying loyalty, as he does, is that the loyalty vanishes when the payment stops. Now, did that Portuguese attack you?”
“No.” She didn’t think he would have done, even if he had forced her to go into the garden with him. “But Papa thinks I may be enceinte.”
“Why does he think that?”
“I implied it.”
Aunt Aurelia stared at her for a moment then, to Bella’s astonishment, leaned back in her chair and began to laugh. “Good heavens—I never dreamed you were as much of a schemer as Wingrave.”
Bella did not share her aunt’s amusement. “I am only determined not to be married to Lord Narwood, Aunt.”
“Yes, well, I cannot blame you for that. What is your plan?”
“Only to make it plain that if a marriage is arranged with Lord Narwood, there will soon be gossip about the… about whether he will be the father of his first child. Lady Jesson will take care of that.”
“Lady Jesson? I don’t know her well, but I didn’t think she was the type to ruin your reputation.”
“I will ask her to. And once it becomes known, Miss Yelland and Miss Quinn will take great delight in confirming it.”
“Those cats?” She shook her head. “Isabella, no respectable man will have you if this becomes known.”
“I know; Maria warned me that might happen. But Aunt, if someone won’t take my word that nothing happened, I wouldn’t want to marry him.”
Aunt Aurelia regarded her closely and gave a quick nod. “It is your life, after all, and no doubt Wingrave will support you. But if I back you up, Marstone may insist you marry the Portuguese. Are you prepared to be shunted off to Portugal?”
“He won’t want that.”
“Why not? I…” She put up a hand as Bella started to speak. “No, I don’t think I want to know.”
Bella pressed on. “Are you going to confirm my story?” Her aunt could still spoil her plan.
“Isabella, if you come out of this well, put in a good word for me to Wingrave, will you? I could do with some assistance with the bills I’ve run up while I’ve been in Town.”
“I don’t think Will has a lot—”
“If he hasn’t now, he will when he inherits. I presume you need me to confirm that you may be in an interesting condition, and that Lady Jesson is a known gossip?”
“Yes, please.”
“Come, then.”
Papa scowled at them as they resumed their seats in the study.
“I’m afraid it is quite true, brother,” Aunt Aurelia said. “However, I should be able to contain any possible scandal if Isabella does not come to the notice of society for a while. If there are… unfortunate consequences of Isabella’s little indiscretion, you—”
“Little indiscretion? The girl has shamed our family name.”
“Oh, come, brother. It happens all the time.”
“Not in my family. It is insupportable.” His voice rose to a shout. “If I had my strength, I’d…I’d…” He broke off, gasping for breath as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He reached for the glass on the nearby table, but knocked it to the floor. “Aurelia, get… get Mowbray. Now.”
Aunt Aurelia shrugged, and pulled the bell.
“I think his lordship needs a doctor,” she said dispassionately, when the butler arrived.
“I need Isabella locked into her room,” her father gasped. “See to it, Mowbray, on pain of dismissal.”
“If you will step this way, Lady Isabella?” Mowbray held the door for her.
Bella hesitated, but her aunt said nothing so she followed the butler into the hall.
“How’s the courtship going?” Lord Carterton asked as Nick walked into the parlour. “Have you been taking that… that punctual woman driving again?”
Nick poured himself a glass of brandy and sat down, not quite ready to discuss the way his ideas—feelings—were changing. But there was something his father might be able to help him with.
“No—I’ve spent the whole afternoon trying to find out more about Narwood,” he said. “He’s about to make an offer for Isabella.”
“Ah. Any success?”
Nick sighed. “No.” He’d just returned from seeing Talbot. The spymaster knew of Narwood, but had nothing that Nick felt could be of use. “He’s wealthy enough that a few losses at cards wouldn’t bother him. If there is any scandal to be found, I doubt he’d care—in fact, he seems the type to be proud of a by-blow or two, or having several mistresses at once.” He took a sip from his glass, the spirit warming his throat but doing nothing to soothe his thoughts.
“Hmm.” His father looked at him over his spectacles. “I sent a few notes to friends after you asked me about him yesterday. It seems there is some question about how his first wife died. No evidence, though, and it might be merely gossip.”
Gossip or not, Nick had to do something to extricate Isabella from the proposed marriage. It was bad enough that she disliked the man—with good reason—but he could not let her be married to someone who might have harmed his previous wife.
“Even if there were evidence, Father, it would do no good. By the time anything could be done, she’d be wed to him.”
“What about her brother?”
Talbot had also said that Wingrave was almost finished with his investigations in Paris and could be back in England within a week, but that was no help.
“He might return soon, but I can’t wait that long.”
“You’d better run off with her, then.”
Nick choked on a mouthful of brandy. He wasn’t sure whether Father had been joking, but as he regained his breath, his mind cleared and he felt a sense of calm. He’d toyed with the idea that he could be a suitor for Isabella without really taking it seriously, but now Father had put it into words it felt… perfect.
For him, at least—he was fairly sure that Isabella only regarded him as a brother. But he could not elope with her; she deserved choice in her marriage.
“I’ll take her to Wingrave’s place in Devonshire,” he said. “There should be no scandal if she’s chaperoned.” Lady Jesson would help, he was sure.
“Marstone would still have the legal right to have her brought back,” Lord Carterton pointed out.
“He would, yes, but I’m sure Wingrave has enough loyal servants—not to mention his wife—who could keep her safe until he returns.”
Father nodded, and picked up his newspaper. Nick stared into his brandy glass, swirling the amber liquid gently. Perhaps not Lady Jesson—with her reputation for gossip, it might be better if she stayed in London to divert any speculation. Would the housekeeper be a sufficiently respectable chaperone if he rode alongside the chaise?
He started to make a mental list of the arrangements needed.
Later that afternoon, Bella was summoned to her father’s bedroom. Aunt Aurelia sat in a chair near the window, and two men stood near the bed. Bella recognised one as Staverton, her father’s secretary. The other was short and rotund. Her father lay in the bed, propped up on pillows and wearing a nightcap instead of his usual wig.
“You will not excite his lordship,” the unknown man intoned. “I cannot guarantee his continued health if he is made to feel any strong emotion. That would be most deleterious.”
“For heaven’s sake, Smythe,” Aunt Aurelia said, “I don’t need a physician to tell me that. My brother is an adult—it is entirely up to him whether or not he loses his temper.”
The physician sniffed, looking as if he were going to argue, but Aunt Aurelia glared
at him and he inclined his head and stood back.
“Come here, girl.” Bella was shocked at how weak her father’s voice sounded, even though he no longer appeared to be short of breath. “You have disgraced—”
“You will wait outside, Smythe,” Aunt Aurelia insisted, her voice drowning out Papa’s. “And you, Staverton. You will be summoned if you are needed.”
Bella was grateful for her aunt’s intervention. This interview was going to be unpleasant enough without having strangers present.
“I must protest, my lady. His lordship needs—”
“This is a private family discussion, Mr Smythe.”
“This way, sir,” Staverton said. Smythe sniffed, and the two men left the room.
“If you have finished interfering, Aurelia…?”
“For now, brother.” Aunt Aurelia moved to a chair close to the bed. Bella had not been invited to sit, but she didn’t mind—she was beginning to get the feeling that her aunt had the upper hand here.
“Isabella, you have disgraced the name—”
“Let us not have that rigmarole again, Marstone. Just tell her what you’ve decided.”
“I will conduct my own business in my own house, madam!”
“Not if you make yourself ill before you’ve got to the point.”
In spite of her situation, Bella had to bite her lips to hide a smile. She didn’t succeed—Aunt Aurelia raised a brow in her direction but said nothing. Her father didn’t seem to have noticed.
“Yes, well. I don’t want to wait the months it would take to find out if she is breeding or not, and Narwood may well ask for an annulment if he finds she is not a virgin.”
Bella’s amusement vanished. She had told the lie herself, but it was dispiriting to find how readily her father believed it of her.
He turned his head towards her. “You must marry the perpetrator of this outrage, Isabella. I might be able to salvage something from your aunt’s incompetence. A visconde’s son, I understand.”
“So he said, Papa.”
“So he said? Do you not…?” He broke off, taking several rasping breaths.