“Do apologize, old man. Hadn’t realized your situation.” Lilywhite, a good head shorter than Lotharian, hurried to the lord’s side and bent to heave his shoulder into his friend’s armpit. He helped him straighten and stand. “Good bow though, Lotharian. Best you’ve achieved in years.”
Lord Lotharian grinned. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh, without question.”
“Wasn’t a proper bow.” The third man, who wore an absurd auburn wig upon his head, tilted a bulbed glass of brandy to his lips.
Lord Lotharian grimaced. “What do you mean, Gallantine? I thought my bow was more than proper-it was…magnificent.”
“Hardly. Half of a truly magnificently crafted bow is sweeping upright again. Observe.” With that, the wigged gentleman bowed gracefully to the Royle sisters. Then, with hardly any popping or crackling of bones, he drew up again and clicked his heels together in triumph. “That, gentlemen, is a proper bow.”
For the fourth time, because it was the correct response to Gallantine’s bow, the Royle sisters curtsied.
Then, they curtsied twice more for propriety’s sake when Sir Lumley Lilywhite and the Chancey Chumley, Viscount Gallantine introduced themselves.
To Mary’s way of thinking, it was now time to finish their mission. “My dear gentlemen, my sisters and I are standing in what I believe to be a private gentleman’s club-a rakes’ club.”
Mary straightened her spine and continued, “Despite our entering through Lady Upperton’s home, which for some reason looks to be a mirror image of this club, I am sure you realize that our presence in the club is quite unseemly, as we are unmarried young women.” Mary pursed her lips, as she’d seen Anne do so many times before when wishing to impart the seriousness of any given situation.
“Therefore, I wonder if you might share with us the meaning of your rather cryptic missive so that we may depart as soon as possible and protect our family name. We have brought along the key, as you requested.” Mary nudged Elizabeth, who wore the key on a blue satin ribbon around her neck.
“Yes, we are keen to learn its dual purpose. But, before we do, sir, might I ask your opinion?” Elizabeth asked as she stepped toward Gallantine. “Was my curtsy properly executed?”
When the gentleman merely stared at her, she stammered on. “I-I do wish to know. We were raised in the country and I believe largely unschooled in the ways of polite society.”
Lord Lotharian laughed and answered in Gallantine’s stead. “Your curtsy-curtsies, rather-were splendid, my dear. And I seriously doubt your social schooling was lacking in any way, because your father traveled in the most select circles of London’s Quality.”
“He did?” Anne blurted. “Lady Upperton hinted as much. But…but he was an ordinary country physician.”
“Oh, a physician he was, dear. But hardly ordinary. He was the Prince of Wales’ personal physician…as well as one of his boon companions-his drinking mates-and a founding member of the Old Rakes of Marylebone…though we were just the Rakes of Marylebone then. Handsome lot, we were. Not quite as wrinkled as we are now.”
Lord Lotharian grinned for a moment, then took in a deep breath and exhaled hard through his nose. “Do not misunderstand. I am no longer proud of the nature of our association, but I cannot deny that at one time, before the three of you were born, we were all intimates of His Majesty the Prince Regent.”
Father was an intimate of Prinny?
Mary felt the blood racing from her head, and she made to the settee and collapsed upon it.
Lord Lotharian’s hand shook almost imperceptibly as he lifted a decanter of brandy from the tantalus and splashed full a crystal glass for Mary. “Please take this, Miss Royle. It will ease your senses.”
“I-I’m sorry. This is all too much information for one day.” She looked up at the crystal he held before her. “Oh, no thank you, Lord Lotharian.”
“Dear gel, I highly recommend some Dutch courage.” He lowered the drink into her hands. “For your visit is not yet at an end, and there is more I must tell you.”
More? Lud, maybe she ought to take it.
She accepted the brandy from him and quickly raised the glass to her mouth.
True, she had no tolerance for spirits, none at all, but she drank down the nerve-bracing amber liquid without hesitation.
Lord Lotharian shoved his hand through his thick hair. “Damn me,” she heard him mutter beneath his breath. “Please forgive me, ladies. I should not have tossed your father’s past into the air as I did.”
Anne hurried to Mary and sat beside her. She looked up at Lord Lotharian. “We needed to know, my lord. You did nothing wrong by telling us.”
“Our Mary was simply not prepared to hear it.” Elizabeth crossed to Mary and patted her shoulder. “You see, while Anne and I believed what my father’s documents suggested, enough to investigate the story of our births further, Mary did not.”
Mary’s head was already spinning a bit, and the conversation at hand was too fantastic to be believed.
Feeling more than a little uneasy, she lowered her gaze and set herself to the mindless task of straightening the wrist lacing on the underside of each of her kid gloves.
When she glanced up again, she was immediately pinned by Anne’s all-knowing gaze.
The edges of Anne’s lips lifted in that superior way of hers as she curled her fingers around Mary’s wrist. “Though I daresay, she cannot ignore the possibility of the story’s truth now. Can you, Mary?”
Chapter 3
Mary primly folded her hands in her lap and looked around at the five people gazing upon her.
“Father was educated and well mannered. It is not such a leap to imagine him well regarded in London society.” Mary paused then.
No one said a word. She was compelled to explain herself further. “Picturing him as a member of Prinny’s retinue, however, is a lump of information not as easily swallowed, but still not outside the realm of believability.”
“So you do believe.” Elizabeth’s countenance brightened radiantly.
Mary shook her head. “No.”
Anne’s body seemed to stiffen. Her brow furrowed, and whether intentionally or not, she tightened her fingers around Mary’s wrist enough to make it smart. “But you just said-”
“No, I did not.” Frustrated, Mary shook her head. “Even if I take the story of Father’s past as gospel-and I have no reason not to believe what the gentlemen here have shared with us-I have yet to hear anything that would lead me to consider that our blood is the slightest bit blue.”
“That is precisely why I asked the three of you here this day, darling.” Lord Lotharian nodded his head at the other two gentlemen, summoning them. Silently, they came to stand behind the settee where Mary and Anne sat.
“We are convinced of your lineage,” Lord Lotharian said firmly.
“What proof have you?” Mary raised her right eyebrow. “Any at all? My lords, I do not mean to be rude, but this claim you make, if true and bolstered by evidence, would not be inconsequential-our lives would be changed forever. And Lord above, I dare not even consider what stand the Crown would take, though I should think it reasonable to say the position would not be one of support.”
“Mary!” Elizabeth turned away and turned a pleading gaze upon Lord Lotharian. “My lord, please forgive my sister’s brusque words. She is simply overcome.”
Lord Lotharian waved his age-spotted hand in the air dismissively. “Were I in her place, my words would be much the same.” He paused for a moment then and lifted a thick gray eyebrow. “Though, I might have waited for a reply after asking for proof.”
“Is there proof then?” For an instant, Mary almost believed that there might be, for Lord Lotharian seemed quite assured.
She almost believed. Almost. But not entirely.
The idea that she and her sisters were the issue of the Prince of Wales and Mrs. Fitzherbert was more than a bit preposterous. The notion was completely mad.
“The
key!” Elizabeth blurted. “The key is the proof!”
Lord Lotharian shook his head slowly.
“But you lured us here by hinting that this”-Elizabeth revealed the brass key-“was the key to more than Papa’s document box.”
“And it may be, but I do not know for certain,” Lotharian admitted. “May I?” He reached out for the key, and Elizabeth handed it to him. “The key has a dual purpose, as I mentioned. Watch.” The tall, lean lord turned the oval grip at the head of the key and removed it, revealing a hexagonal tip. “Your father told me that if anything should happen to him, this hidden key would open the trapdoor.”
“What trapdoor?” Anne demanded. “In our house in Cornwall?”
Lotharian shrugged. “I fear he shared no more with me than I have with you. I got the distinct impression that he was apprehensive about telling me about the key at all. But, yes, I would assume the secret key is for a trapdoor in his country home. I admit, I had held out some hope that you gels would know better what his cryptic words truly meant.”
“We know nothing of any trapdoor.” Mary cast a knowing glance at each of her sisters. “Our trip here is for naught.”
“On the contrary, Miss Royle. We had a very good reason for requesting your presence this day,” Gallantine broke in before Mary could utter another word.
The door from the passage opened then, and a petite, doe-eyed maid entered the room with a tray of tea and biscuits.
Given the nature of the preceding conversation, Mary expected that Lotharian would raise his hand to Gallantine and silence him until the privacy of the library was restored.
But he did not.
“Allow me to share another story from our past. Something you three must hear.” He slid his crystal over his lower lip and swallowed a few sips of brandy with an audible gulp. “The year was 1795. A full month had passed since the prince had dispatched your father to Margate to tend to Maria…Mrs. Fitzherbert.”
Mary’s gaze followed the maid as she laid the tea service on the small table before them. She did not speak, nor look directly at anyone, despite the extraordinary tale Lotharian was beginning to share; she merely finished her business and silently left the room.
“At the time,” Lotharian noted, his thick eyebrows twitching excitedly, “it was rumored Mrs. Fitzherbert had fallen ill after the prince had abruptly severed their union and agreed to marry Princess Caroline.”
Mary found herself holding her breath, waiting for the piece of the story that would prove the story naught but a fantasy.
She slid a glance at Anne, the more even-minded of her sisters. But even she was staring moon-eyed at Lotharian, much as she had done when Papa had read them faery stories when they were children.
Lotharian continued the tale, pausing only for a breath or another sip of brandy. “It was clear to all of us that George still cared deeply for Maria, his wife of the heart-that’s what he oft called her, you know-so it did not seem out of character for the prince to send his trusted personal physician, your father, to tend to her.”
Lilywhite nodded his head vigorously. “But a month was a damned long while for your father to be out of Town without so much as sending a letter to anyone. Not like him in the least. I began to wonder if something was wrong. Finally, I decided to send a missive to Margate, the house in the country to which Mrs. Fitzherbert had retired, to inquire about his plans to return to London.”
Gallantine nodded his auburn-wigged head in agreement. “Your father always was the responsible sort. We knew something was not as it should be.”
Lilywhite slapped his hand to his thigh. “Well, you can imagine my surprise when the letter was returned, unopened. We soon learned that your father was no longer at Margate. Hadn’t been for weeks. He had, in fact, retired to his family cottage in Cornwall and had expressed to no one any intent to return to London-ever.”
“Bah, there could be many reasons he retired to Cornwall.” Mary twisted her wrist and wrenched it from Anne’s painful grasp. She rubbed it as she shuffled through her mind for the correct words. “The most likely being that Mrs. Frasier, the housekeeper, found a basket of three babies on the doorstep and he needed to attend to them…or us, rather.”
Lotharian’s wild eyebrows arched, giving Mary the impression of a frost-covered grassy hillock. “My, my. Is that what you were told?”
“Yes, it was. It was never a secret in our house.” Mary peered through narrowed eyes at each of the three gentlemen in turn. “And you all must admit that the idea of some pinch-penny country unfortunate leaving her babies on the doorstep to be taken in by someone more able to care for them is far more likely.”
Gallantine nodded his head. “She has you there, Lotharian.” He headed for the tantalus. “More brandy, anyone?” His offer was greeted by the other two gentlemen raising their empty glasses in the air.
Clutching the decanter in his delicate, long-fingered hands, Gallantine crossed back to his friends and filled their crystal goblets half full.
“My thanks, old chap.” Lotharian tilted the short-stemmed goblet to his lips and drank deeply. When he finished, he dabbed his lips together, then ran his tongue over his lips, as if ensuring he recovered every last drop.
He looked pointedly at Mary. “Oh yes, I do agree. The abandoned babies story is infinitely believable-but sadly, that retelling of your delivery into your father’s care is far from the truth.” He tapped his hand twice upon his knee for emphasis.
Elizabeth reached out and laid her hand atop Lord Lotharian’s. “Then will you share the true story?” She shot an uneasy glance at Mary, then added, “The true story…as you know it, my lord.”
“Oh, do allow me.” Lilywhite circled around from behind the settee, catching up a small cherrywood chair near the hearth as he moved closer to the sisters. “It’s such a dramatic tale, and I vow neither of you gents will do it justice.”
He slowly lowered himself into the chair, sucked in a deep breath, and glanced at Lotharian as if first seeking permission to speak.
Only when the taller lord nodded his consent did Lilywhite begin.
“With no explanation for Royle’s disappearance, Lord Upperton, God rest his soul, Lady Upperton, and the three of us decided we had no recourse but to venture to lower Cornwall ourselves and learn the fate of our friend.”
“And what did you learn, my lord?” Anne’s fingers absently clutched her skirts, wrinkling them for certain.
“Everything. We arrived unannounced, late one night, but Royle welcomed us inside the cottage and offered us brandy. He was clearly distraught with our sudden appearance. I remember hearing it in the low tone of his voice and seeing it in his eyes-the way they kept darting toward the staircase every minute or so. Most certainly, we could not have known that there were three babies, the three of you, sleeping soundly inside one of the upper bedchambers. He obviously meant to keep it a secret. But his nerves grew ever more shredded as the minutes passed, and he turned to the brandy again and again.”
“Oh, good heavens, Lilywhite.” Lotharian threw back his head in clear frustration. “You are taking far too long with the telling!” Lotharian returned Elizabeth’s gloved hand to her own knee, then he rose and moved to the hearth, leaning an elbow upon the white-veined green marble. “Get on with it, man.”
Lilywhite began speaking very quickly, as though, Mary decided, if he were to pause, Lotharian would seize the story for his own. “Within an hour, the brandy had loosened his tongue, and Royle, the man who raised you, revealed a series of events like no other.” He cast a wary glance at Lotharian.
“Good God, man, go on.” Lotharian lifted his goblet to his mouth but did not drink. Mary could see he was peering intently at her over the lip of the crystal. He was watching for her reaction, waiting for it.
Lilywhite took another deep, calming breath before speaking again. The story was certainly about to take a dramatic turn.
“He told us that Prinny had called upon him late one eve, demanding he hurry t
o Margate to tend to his wife. Yes, he used that term-his wife. Your father was given no indication of what necessitated his urgent dispatch to Margate, but he left at once. When he arrived, he found Mrs. Fitzherbert, barely coherent, and in the midst of a difficult birth.”
Lilywhite feigned a cough, raised his goblet, and gestured for Gallantine to refill it, which he begrudgingly did.
The portly Old Rake tilted the glass to his mouth and gulped down its contents completely, cuing Mary to gird herself for more.
“Her confinement was a surprise to Royle, since the prince had not mentioned it to him. But her condition was not as jolting as what he saw next.”
“What did he see? Tell us, please,” Elizabeth pleaded.
Lilywhite’s eyes widened. The tension in the library grew very heavy. “In the shadows of the room stood Lady Jersey-and Queen Charlotte.”
“The queen?” Elizabeth’s feet tapped excitedly on the carpet.
“Indeed. In fact, when your father inquired about Mrs. Fitzherbert’s altered faculties, it was the queen herself who confessed that Mrs. Fitzherbert had dosed herself with a goodly amount of laudanum at first pain and that she had been unable to stop her. Royle lifted her lids, and indeed her pupils were black and large, but when he asked for the bottle of laudanum she had used, hoping to ascertain how much she had taken, it was not produced.”
Anne’s brow wrinkled with concern. “Someone else drugged her?”
Lilywhite sighed and shrugged. “Royle suspected as much but was in no position to question the queen’s account. Two long hours later, though Mrs. Fitzherbert was barely conscious, she delivered three stillborn babies.”
“Stillborn?” Elizabeth gasped for air, as if it seemed her faery tale dream of being a princess had just been torn away from her. “Then…then we could not be those babies.”
“That’s enough, Lilywhite. I shall finish.” Lotharian strode back to the settee and slowly, in three attempts, managed to kneel on one bony knee before Elizabeth.
“Dear, they appeared stillborn, but your father, even though known as London’s finest physician, was not permitted to examine the babies, even for a moment. He begged for a chance to revive them, but the queen would not hear of it. She proclaimed the children dead. If they were not yet, they soon would be, and that was the way it must be.”
How To Seduce A Duke Page 4