“Your cousin has been wonderfully accommodating in sharing some of Rothburne’s bounty with my gardener, and I’ve taken advantage of the offer every chance I can.”
I laughed, a little bubble of freedom as my insecurities loosened their grip on me. “You’ve met the earl’s cousin? And you do not hate me?”
The woman laughed, a pure and delightful sound that firmly connected us. “I never give up an opportunity to pass judgment, and I’ll not let that Philip Scatchard do it for me. It’s one of the few pleasures left to me in life.”
Oh, how I enjoyed this woman. Her presence drew me, making me wish for more of her. I would learn from her, studying the way she moved and spoke and even laughed. Everything about her declared her highborn and accomplished, yet her nature was warm and inviting too. The very combination of everything I’d ever wanted to be in life was embodied in this woman who was, thankfully, my neighbor.
“How can you stand to be away from such a stunning estate? Surely your London home does not hold this much appeal.”
“It’s travel that excites my heart.” The answer slipped out as readily as if it were true and shocked me. It was, in fact, the first time I had answered as the countess rather than myself. I pressed on despite the gnawing pangs of deceit. “I have such a yearning for adventure and no one place holds my interest for long.”
“Were you planning to introduce me as well, lovey, or just leave me in the corner?” A jovial man with silvered temples appeared beside Lady Remington, drawing a special grin from her as if they possessed a shared secret.
She turned to him. “Ah, here you are. And now, Lady Enderly, you’ll see what made me leave my moors.”
He stepped forward with a nod, his animated features saying much even before he spoke. “Felix Remington, my lady. A pleasure to welcome you to our little corner of the world for the season. We hope to see much more of you.”
I couldn’t help but fall under the charm of this pair—as individuals and even more so as a duo. “I’m fortunate to have such fine neighbors.”
Soon we were laughing together, and the natural camaraderie made me feel so normal. Connected.
“Where have you been lately? I heard you’ve been to India.”
The names of all countries flew from my mind. “Umm . . . Abington.” I’d seen it listed at the train station when we boarded.
The man’s eyebrows rose. “South of Oxford? How exotic.”
I shrugged, heat pouring up my neck and tickling my scalp. “Certainly a whole other world from my usual.”
“Of course.” He murmured the reply, studying me. “I’m surprised your little reception has not drawn old Wells into attending. I assume he was invited.”
I smiled to cover the spike of panic his words elicited in me. Who was old Wells? I should know this and so many other things. “Perhaps he was. I would have to check my guest list to be sure.” This conversation was edging toward thin ice, and it seemed inevitable that I’d eventually fall through.
“I much preferred the days old Wells owned this place. He came around a lot more than the earl. It’s a shame Wells didn’t simply keep it himself.”
Wells. Prendergast had mentioned something about an uncle who had gifted the estate to the earl, and that must be him. I slid that knowledge into my mind. Wells, the great former owner of the abbey. Old Wells. This must also be the man Bradford mentioned who had loved the gardens. I smiled as the pieces came together and I cemented them in place in my mind.
“Darling, you mustn’t speak so of the earl, especially in front of Lady Enderly. You’ve enjoyed his company on many occasions too.”
“He isn’t the jolly sort old Wells was, though. I’m certain Lady Enderly is well aware of how surly a man the earl is. His reputation in the House of Lords is widespread. No amendment that works itself into that man’s head is ignored in the House. He wields his words like a sword until they find their mark.”
“He would show more kindness to Lady Enderly than he would to a room of government men, of course.”
Guardian. The earl must be her guardian. I shivered at the thought, for he sounded very far from a gentle protector.
“Either way, I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Enderly. I had hoped to find a reputable lady living in this abbey, but I’ve found one better—a possible friend.” She touched my arm before moving on, and I smiled, sinking deeper into the role. I had a foothold on this task, it seemed. But as I turned with a gratified sigh, I felt a pair of knowing eyes on me. I turned this way and that to find them until I locked gazes with a man whose heavy-lidded countenance struck me as only slightly familiar—and not from my current life at Rothburne. I should know him. His gaze narrowed at me now across the salon, as if trying to place me but not quite able. I turned my head to hide my face and felt him studying the back of my exposed shoulders, the curls tickling the back of my neck.
I looked back and he shifted, as if intending to come and speak with me, and I moved with purpose toward Cousin Philip, trading one lion’s den for another.
14
Making a stunning impression is often as simple as not caring if you do.
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
Sociable as ever, I see.” I approached Philip, who was brooding near the far wall and swirling liquid in a cup. Drinks were a regular extension of his hand, it seemed, for I seldom saw him without one.
“Why be sociable with people I dislike?”
“Yet you requested my presence just now. I find you hard to take seriously.”
“Shall I tell you what I find you?”
“I am sure you will, with or without my permission.” Especially with a tongue loosened by drink.
“All right, then.” He frowned. “I find you ridiculously extravagant. That’s the matter I wished to discuss with you. Vulgar as it is to discuss money at a time like this, I find it my duty as your estate manager to warn you of such a misstep before your lavish expenditures harm the entire estate and the people living here.”
“There’s nothing lavish about my spending habits, of that I assure you.”
“You are foolish to lie to me, Countess. The one privilege of being on par with the servants in this house is that they talk to me, and when I returned for this”—he waved his glass around the room—“this monstrosity of flattery, which I was promised would be nothing of the sort, they’ve told me of the extensive renovations you’ve been undertaking in my absence. I call that grossly extravagant, which is what you are. I can see with my own eyes all the new furniture and draperies about the place tonight. And don’t forget, as the abbey’s manager I’ll also see the notes for everything concerning this place when I settle the accounts.”
“Actually, you will not.” I glared at him. “The only cost for all my renovations is time and effort, including my own. We have pulled furniture and drapes from the attic, and I had them refreshed by the staff for use in the main rooms. Did the wonderfully informative servants also tell you that?”
His frown deepened. “Surely you do not mean that you have spent nothing.”
“You may verify my claims with the lack of notes you’ll find in the study. Extravagant I am not.”
His rare silence, the look of shock on his face, lightened my heart. In this moment, at least, I had won.
I smiled. “A word of wisdom for you, Cousin, from Wilkie Collins. ‘No sensible man engages, unprepared, in a fencing match of words with a woman.’ I suggest you come armed next time with the facts and leave off with the assumptions. They only weigh you down in battle.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Self-important. That’s my second word for you. You flit about with your nose in the air, swishing your gowns as if you were a royal, speaking only to high-class guests like the Remingtons. Far be it from you to socialize with common people like your musician or even thank him for his performance. Lavish or thrifty, you are full of yourself and deserve to be taken down a notch . . . or ten.” He spat out the final words as if they left a bitter
taste and glared at me for a response.
But I had none. Not this time. I’d have to reveal far more than I should to convey the absolute absurdity of his claim against me. Self-important—me? The woman who was tasting extravagance for the first time and barely holding together her thin shreds of poise? I had a great many flaws and weaknesses, more than he even knew, but self-important was the furthest thing from what I was. With my heart fluttering like butterfly wings to match the feeling in my stomach, I merely lowered my voice and said, “If only you knew how wrong you were.”
Lifting my skirt, I pivoted and swept away from his dark presence before it suffocated me. I tried to move about among the guests with the same lighthearted grace I’d had moments before, but every smile and laugh was false. I felt Cousin Philip’s glare upon my back no matter where I turned. Why did I let him unsettle me so?
A light touch on my arm made me turn, smile ready to bestow on the guest. When I glimpsed the overdressed woman grinning at me, I froze. Recognition came too late to retreat.
“How kind of you to invite me, Lady Enderly. What a happy surprise to find you alone at last.” She fumbled two quick curtsies, which I answered with a nod, watching her. Mr. John Reese Stockton—that was the name of the man who had observed me with such interest from across the room, and this charming confection was his wife.
“I hope you are enjoying the evening.” I lowered my voice, hoping she would not recognize it.
“Oh, but of course! How could a body do less, with such a sumptuous spread?”
As we passed light conversation back and forth, I looked over this plump face for the second time in my life, clearly remembering the first. It had been just outside her grand townhouse in Chelsea, and I had been called a thief. Her housekeeper had screeched at me as I’d made off with a sack of what I believed to be castoffs laid out for the rag and bone man. The sound had startled me into running, and her servants gave chase until they caught me. She’d run after me with a broom as if I were a rat, and her underhousemaid called the constable to have me arrested.
It had been my one and only night in jail, ended abruptly when an anonymous donor, whom I’d always known to be Sully, had paid my fee and had me released. I’d left the prison, but its stench had marred me. It had chiseled another mark into the shape of my young identity and made me realize exactly what I was—and what I was not.
“. . . So I told Lord Wellington to call on the lady and settle the whole matter without delay. Such a foolish thing it was.”
My mind surfaced to the woman’s endless rambling, bringing me back to the present. How could she not know me? Had she not given chase, then faced me in court with pointed finger? Was I truly that unmemorable, or . . . When she paused, I looked up, my head still swimming in foggy thoughts.
She frowned. “Lady Enderly?”
“Hmm?” At my instinctive reply, an odd sensation swept over me. I answered to her name more naturally than my own. Somehow it both delighted and bothered me.
“Perhaps I should fetch you a drink. Am I tiring you?”
I looked at this woman who had known Ragna yet sat here and conversed with me freely, seeing no trace of that girl in me.
She prompted me by repeating her question. “Am I tiring you, my lady?”
I smiled, forcing my mind to remain in the present moment. “No, of course not. I always grow tired in the evening. A product of all my traveling. My mind never knows whether it is in India, France, or England.” Misery swept over me at the blatant untruth, and my instinctual urge to turn in silent prayer to God was stopped short by guilt. There was no question now, I was fully dishonest and sinking further into it. I had no business approaching God.
The woman laughed more than necessary. “You’ve no idea how pleased I am to become acquainted with you. A lady such as yourself seldom has time for the likes of me. I know we shall become friends, though. I’m certain we have a great deal in common. We both have such a taste for fine things.” She ran one chubby finger along the oiled wood of a settee back.
She was groveling. Flattering me. This woman who had treated me as less than a human would now kiss my fingertips and sing my praises in the same breath if I asked it of her.
“We’re only on holiday here for a brief time to see my sister in Chaffcombe, but I’d be honored to renew our acquaintance a time or two before we return to town.”
I offered a benign smile. “I shall have to see what my schedule will allow.”
The feel of my gown as I moved away solidified it—nothing of Ragna remained. I had succeeded in removing my old identity, thoroughly becoming someone else. And the victory left me feeling odd. Guilty. Nervous.
Her husband’s eyes narrowed at me now from across the salon, as if trying to place me but not quite able. I turned my head to hide my face.
I’d entered into an enchanting easy conversation with Lady Butte, when a familiar voice spoke behind me. “Something sweet for your evening, my lady?” I spun to find Sully offering a solemn bow, extending a tray of truffles. The sight of him both rattled and comforted me, my troubled thoughts calming for the moment.
I turned to the footman. “Sully.” Speaking his name aloud brought a rush of tender memories. I turned my gaze away, hoping my guest had not caught my mistake. “Thank you, Mr. McKenna. You should not be serving tonight. You are the musician.”
“I’m the footman, and I’ll act like it. Nothing shameful about being who you are.”
I looked helplessly up at him. “That depends on who you are.” Never again did I want to be thrown out into the alley and struggling to salvage the castoffs of other women. What a dismal life I’d had then! Looking into Sully’s frank, open face, I wanted to toss aside this façade that haunted my conscience, yet I saw no way to do it and still hold on to this version of myself I was coming to enjoy a great deal. “Your song—”
“I must congratulate you on a fine performance tonight, young man. You have a splendid musical talent.” The gray-haired woman beside me inserted herself into our conversation, which she could not possibly understand.
“Thank you.” He nodded at Lady Butte, then looked back at me. “I hope my musical performance also pleased you, my lady.” His dark eyes asked a question beyond his spoken words.
“It was magnificent.” I said each word with marked feeling, low and careful.
His eyes softened. “I’m glad you liked it.”
Prendergast appeared behind him, eager to separate us. “Ah, here’s our rogue performer. You’re a fine musician, and I’m certain Lady Enderly appreciates your contribution to her reception tonight. Now if you’ll kindly excuse—”
“I was just telling him as much.” My voice came out quiet yet strong. “In fact, the only fault I can find with it is that it ends too abruptly. Surely there were more verses to your song. One might wonder if he ever gave up on the girl in the story, or if he still loved her.”
Sully lifted a crooked grin to me. “One might, eh? I suppose Mr. Prendergast here should have let me finish then.” He gave a brief bow. “It was my pleasure to play for you, my lady.”
I turned, and that terrible Mr. Stockton hovered like a shadow by the door, cradling a glass in his large hand. His stare was fixed and sure, yet he said not a word to me, even when he departed. Not a word of thanks or parting pleasantries.
When the last of the guests swept toward the door, the tall clock in the hall bonged a single time to mark the half hour. Only then was I overcome with the foolishness of my missed opportunity. I hadn’t discovered a single thing about Lady Enderly that night. So consumed had I been with the guests and gowns that I had not given a single thought to learning more about the secrets this woman held. I had been distracted from my purpose—no, charmed away from it. I’d experienced an intoxicating, addictive sense of admiration among these guests, in these garments, and it came so near to touching the ache in me that all else had been forgotten as I’d striven to grasp the remedy. Now that the salon had emptied and weariness overcame
me, regret settled firmly inside.
I moved out into the hall, ready to quit the night, and nearly collided with a dark-suited gent. I stumbled back and his solid arms caught me and pulled me upright again. Victor Prendergast looked down at me with eyes that sparkled in the shadows. “Like Cinderella, your grace ends at the stroke of midnight, it seems.”
I straightened, but he remained close in the dark. “You cannot expect me to see you in this dim hall, sir.”
He leaned near enough for me to smell brandy on his breath. It was a fresher, cleaner scent than the sticky alcohol consumed in Spitalfields, with a hint of mintiness, but I knew it all the same. I leaned away, but his hold tightened, his look intensifying. “You must learn to see yourself as everyone’s superior if you expect everyone else to. Call me Victor.”
“Very well then, Victor.” My voice, low and smooth, held no trace of the fear that reverberated through my head. The words Get away from him screamed through my mind, followed by the quieter Get away from here. Yet every Spitalfields girl knew not to run when pursued. I’d have to bide my time, wait for the right moment to escape. If only I’d managed to leave with Sully that first night. Slowly, with remarkable composure, I pulled my gloved hand out of Victor’s grasp, but he caught it again and pulled it close, inspecting my fingers with eerie fascination.
It’s the drink, I reminded myself. Yet that knowledge didn’t ease the tremor that coursed through me at his forceful nearness. Watching my face, he turned my hand and kissed my open palm. Despite the glove separating my skin from his lips, I felt as if I’d been touched by a snake.
He swept back a step to look at the whole of me, and I smiled with relief at the cool air between us.
“You approve of the gown, I hope,” he said. “I knew it would suit you. It made quite an impression on your guests tonight. One in particular.” His gaze lingered on my face. “Remember when I told you of the spell you’d cast over men, the power you could wield? I’m afraid I’m one of your victims.” His gaze lingered on my exposed shoulder, then swept back up. “Who would have guessed that a scrawny rag woman could wield such power?”
Finding Lady Enderly Page 12