Two Brides and a Duke: A Steamy Regency Romance (Parvenues & Paramours, Book 4)

by Tessa Candle

  Eleanor had not been happy about that, but it was hardly Tilly’s fault. She frowned. This was not the best time to be invaded by outsiders. “And do you suppose Miss Fitzpatrick and Laurentian will pay a call here? Might they not be too well entertained at Blackwood to think of it?”

  Frobisher sighed. “One may always hope. But Laurentian and I are somewhat acquainted, and Fenimore is so close to Blackwood, he will no doubt feel obligated. In any case, there is a general invitation to the Blackwood household to come to the grand opening of the pirate cave. It will only be some refreshments and a little tour, but if they are still at Blackwood, they will hardly be able to stay away.”

  The relative trifles of unwanted company flew immediately out of Eleanor’s suddenly panicked mind.

  The grand opening of the cave! It would be a catastrophe! Surely the prisoner would hear the people milling about and talking. Then he would make as much noise as possible. What if someone heard him? This could destroy everything.

  She kept a calm demeanour. “Will you not have some music, as well? That might set a nicer atmosphere.”

  Frobisher seemed to think for a moment. “You know, I believe you are quite right! I wonder if there is enough time to get a really capable set of performers from London.”

  “I am sure there is.” Eleanor was encouraging. “You are a marquess, after all. Perhaps my father can assist, as he is very fond of music. Do you think some strings and a pianoforte will do?”

  Frobisher pursed his lips in dissatisfaction. “No, no. I need something really grand. What about an arabesque ensemble?” He was beginning to wave his hands with excitement. “And I could get a troupe to come and perform some acts from the Arabian Nights!”

  Rosamond laughed. “This reminds me of the Frobisher I first spied at Fenimore, planning to rip out all of his rosebushes to put in a hedge maze. I almost miss the lace cuffs.”

  Frobisher gave her an affectionate look. “Do you disapprove?”

  “Not at all! It sounds like great fun. So long as there is time to put it into action.”

  Eleanor did not wish to lose the momentum. “I think it sounds marvellous. We shall be making so merry that we shall hardly notice if there is an irksome young lady in our midst.”

  “Ah, but that reminds me.” Frobisher was suddenly sober. “While Laurentian and Miss Fitzpatrick are around, you must never mention Delville.”

  The sound of his name warmed her cheeks. She liked to hear Delville spoken of, but why this curious embargo?

  “Indeed, it would be better not even to let the name of Mr. Dee slip,” Rosamond added.

  “I shall refrain from speaking of him at all in their presence, but to what purpose is all this secrecy?” Delville was such a mysterious character. She was burning to know more.

  “It is only that… well it is a long story,” Rosamond began.

  Her husband interrupted her. “It is simple enough. Delville was tricked into an engagement to Miss Fitzpatrick. If she knows he is back from the dead, she will no doubt press her claim.”

  Eleanor could not muster her usual deadpan nonchalance, and her jaw momentarily dropped. He was engaged? But what about that kiss? She swallowed her anger. “I see that there is a double motive for wishing to attach Auchdun’s interest to Miss Fitzpatrick.”

  Frobisher shrugged. “Two birds with one stone.”

  “Quite. Well, that adds to the urgency, I suppose.”

  Frobisher shrugged. “It may not add to your urgency, for I do not imagine you are eager for his return to these parts, but Delville cannot come out of hiding until she has broken the engagement by accepting another.”

  Was she eager for his return? Certainly not, the cad had kissed her when he was betrothed to someone else. Of course the kiss meant nothing to her, but he could not know that. What if he had engaged her affections? She had to force back a scowl.

  “And he will not return to Fenimore until she and Laurentian have safely cleared out,” Rosamond added, apparently believing that Eleanor needed reassurance on that point.

  “You may count on my discretion.” Eleanor mustered a smile, but she was furious with the infidel.

  She was beginning to feel more in solidarity with Miss Fitzpatrick. Everyone was trying to make her out to be the wrongdoer, but how did one get tricked into an engagement, anyway? This sounded like a convenient excuse from the sort of jilting bounder who would just dash about kissing women and then running off on some pretence or other. His real reason for leaving Fenimore was to save his own skin.

  Well good riddance to him—except that he had to come back. He must clean up his own mess and deal with the prisoner in some way that did not implicate Frobisher in a criminal conspiracy. Other than that, she didn’t care one jot if he came back.

  Well, perhaps she looked forward to telling him exactly what she thought—and how delightful she found the company of the fiancée he had been at turns avoiding and slandering. Otherwise he could stay away and keep his unasked-for kisses to himself.

  Chapter 18

  Delville slipped into the inn’s wine cellar, leaving the door open a crack behind him for Lucy Delight to enter.

  A match lit suddenly, illuminating her face. She was already inside.

  “Were you followed?”

  “Of course not.” Delville prided himself in his ability to sneak about. It was a crucial part of being a spy after all. “Of the two of us, you are the one more likely to bring an unwanted guest.”

  Her eyes looked haunted in the light of the candle stub she lit. “I, for one, cannot be too careful.”

  “Has something happened?” Delville’s instincts told him this was serious. The woman had entirely lost her air of bawdy confidence.

  “Only a look Red Martha gave me.”

  “A look?”

  “Yeah. I happened to see an address as I was bringing in her cut. She was sitting at her desk and there was a little satchel of letters there, so I glanced at them, thinking I might see something useful for you. The letters were not very interesting—all addressed to the brothel. But there was a paper beside the satchel with an address on it. Anyway, I think she saw me looking at it. She spoke not a word, but she fixed her gaze upon me—it was fair to make your blood freeze—then tilted her head and squinted at me like she was thinking real hard.” The woman shuddered. “I thought she might just cut my throat right there.”

  Delville had a very bad feeling about this. Their line of work made peculiars almost immune to oversensitivity. If this woman felt threatened, she was probably right. “Do you remember the address?”

  The woman handed over a scrap of paper. “It is only partial, but I wrote down what I remembered. There is the street—I am quite sure about that.”

  He looked at it, then tucked it into his pocket. “Anything else?”

  “No. And I don’t think I can do this anymore. My nerves won’t take it.”

  Delville pulled out the hundred pounds and handed it to her. “This is for the address. Thank you for your service, but I do not wish to endanger you. I think you had best get out of London.”

  Her snort was half laugh, half defeated sigh. “Where am I going to go? And if I run, it will only make her more suspicious.”

  Delville pulled out more notes. “Here is some travelling money and enough to keep you for at least half a year if you are prudent. Get on a boat and go to France, then live quietly for a while. Can you do that?”

  She nodded and took the money.

  He could tell she was not planning to heed his advice. “I am very serious, now. If she suspects you, you are in serious danger. Don’t even return home to pack. Just take this money and get on a boat.”

  “What about travelling papers?”

  “I am sure you can find someone who will let you off somewhere where there is no one to check.”

  “But I don’t speak French.”

  “Stay in Calais, then. Everyone speaks English, and you will easily exchange your money. Only use a false name, be
discreet and live quietly. If you keep to yourself, you will not be noticed, and even if Red Martha thinks to look for you there, she will have a hard time finding you. But she probably would not believe in a thousand years that you would escape to the continent.”

  She still looked unconvinced.

  Of course she did not want to go. She probably had no idea where Calais was. The upper classes took travel as a given, but to someone like Lucy it must seem impossibly complex and perilous. Yet she had to go. “Here is an address you may write to when you are settled. I will reply as soon as it is safe to return.”

  “Safe to return? If Red Martha thinks I crossed her—which she will, if I disappear—I will never be safe in England again.”

  “Unless she is locked up.”

  “Gaol won’t stop her. Maybe if she was dead.”

  Delville did not wish to say anything, but both the Home Office and the Foreign Office knew Red Martha had been assisting England’s enemies. If they could prove it, she would hang for treason. This thought might put Lucy’s mind at ease, but he could certainly not discuss their investigation with her.

  She had to leave England. “I must travel to London, anyway. I will bring you with me part way, then put you into a hired carriage to Dover, so you will travel undetected.”

  “Thank you just the same, but I will find my own way.”

  He did not believe her, but could hardly force her to go to Dover. “At least do not return to London, Lucy. It is not safe there anymore.”

  She nodded. “Thanks, Delville. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “Fare well, then.” He hoped she would take his warning seriously, but it was time for him to get on his way. The partial address he had might turn out to be nothing, but it was a good place to start.

  As they approached the door, he realized that he had left it open, for he could hear someone shuffling away on the stairs. Leaving Lucy behind, Delville dashed up the staircase to the hallway, arriving in time to see a man disappearing around the corner.

  It was Auchdun. He was certain of it. Sneaking little dung ball. Had he been eavesdropping? Delville followed, but when he rounded the corner into the entrance area, Auchdun was gone. Probably upstairs hiding in his room.

  Perhaps it was just as well. Confronting him would do no good. If Auchdun had overheard anything, it would not make any sense to him. He had probably been hoping to catch a couple in flagrante delicto, and was no doubt disappointed. It was always these moralizing types that went about trying to peer into other peoples’ bedrooms.

  He ran a kerchief over his perspiring neck and headed for the door. It was time he got back to London.

  Chapter 19

  Eleanor collapsed into her chair and stared drearily into her cup of chocolate. The visits to the prisoner were becoming tedious. She still brought her notebook each day, but had all but given up on hearing anything useful. Shoving his provisions in as quickly as possible and bolting out of the cave had become the only way to avoid listening to him.

  Despite the extra rations, he seemed more miserable than ever, and his pleas for her to stay were becoming increasingly pathetic. She wished Delville would get back soon. Of course, that he could not do, as his fiancée was now ensconced at Blackwood.

  Eleanor was very curious to meet Miss Fitzpatrick—she only wished it would not be during the afternoon’s entertainments at the cave. Or rather, she wished the grand opening would be cancelled altogether.

  Everything Eleanor had heard about her made Miss Fitzpatrick seem like an awful person, but she must be an oddity. The girl could not have been quite right in the head to accept Delville. Just like Eleanor was not quite right in the head to have involved herself in Delville’s debacle.

  Frobisher and Rosamond wandered in the breakfast parlour and plopped themselves into their seats, yawning almost in concert.

  “Ah, Eleanor,” Rosamond rubbed her eye, “you look troubled. I know it cannot be Auchdun making a reappearance.”

  “No. Forgive me, I am just feeling somewhat apprehensive about meeting Miss Fitzpatrick this afternoon.”

  “Ah. Well it is for a good cause. Console yourself with that. In fact, Auchdun has been located—he was in London, if you can imagine. Tilly and Rutherford have invited him to come to Blackwood.” Frobisher grimaced. “I thought we should leave him in town, but Tilly has got her teeth into the project and will not let go.”

  Rosamond sipped her tea and added, “Better them than us. But let us hope Auchdun takes a shining to this Fitzpatrick woman and is sufficiently diverted to keep him from wandering back here. In the meantime, Frobisher has arranged quite a grand affair for us down at the cave.”

  Frobisher looked pleased with himself. “Indeed I have. A nice little orchestra and a troop of actors to bring Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves to life. I believe I have outdone myself.”

  Eleanor smiled at his supercilious grin. “I am sure it will be delightful.” And drown out any inopportune cries for help that might arise.

  “Oh, and this came with the mail this morning.” Frobisher reached into his pocket and retrieved a letter. “Perhaps it may bring you cheerful news.”

  “I hope it will, thank you.” Eleanor took the missive from him.

  The address was from Mrs. Stiller, the intermediary who forwarded correspondence between Eleanor and her half-sister, Colette, so that her father could not detect and intercept them. He had been so strict that Eleanor should not have any communication with her mother’s daughter in France, that Eleanor felt oppressed. He was normally an indulgent parent, but on this point he was intractable. So where argument was impossible, deception came to the rescue.

  Eleanor smiled. “If you two will not miss me terribly, I believe I shall go read it.”

  Her sister’s letters were never terribly full of big news, but limited themselves to reports of the daily events in her life, carefully crafted so as to charm the reader. Or perhaps Eleanor merely found them charming because they made her feel she was drawing close to her sister through reading about those domestic routines that were more the stuff of life than any sensational tidbit of gossip from the larger world.

  In this particular note, Colette described so perfectly the antics of her cat, Grenouille, in frightening off a nosey, sneaking intruder from her room, that Eleanor laughed aloud. The malefactor was the perfectly intolerable daughter of the woman who ran the boarding house at the Chateau du Grand Perray. Eleanor’s father paid large annual sums to keep Colette safely ensconced there, properly educated and generally hidden far away from the more worldly allurements of Paris.

  Eleanor finished the letter with a sigh and added it to her collection, to later re-read and enjoy again her sister’s humour and insights. She so wished that she could bring Colette to England. But that was not done.

  And it was a selfish thought, in any case, for Colette would only be subjected to even worse behind-the-fan smirks and whispers than Eleanor endured. That was if she ever made an appearance in town. Colette would only be received secretly by a handful of Eleanor’s closest friends. Ah, but it was foolishness to even consider such details. Her father would never allow it, and that was that.

  When Eleanor had finished writing her reply, she got dressed for the afternoon’s amusements. She was not looking forward to the occasion, and she resented Delville all the more for leaving her in such a situation. He had created this whole mess, and where was he? Nowhere to be seen. Probably amusing himself in London.

  She checked herself. That was not entirely fair. He had serious business in town. However questionable his means, saving a child was a noble cause. But why must Eleanor be left to face all the nervous strain of pretending to enjoy a party next to their hidden prisoner? She had every reason to feel put out at Delville. He should be there.

  At least Miss Fitzpatrick’s visit would satisfy a curiosity that had been growing in Eleanor. What sort of girl had got Delville to propose to her? She took a deep breath and retrieved her novel from the wi
ndow seat. She could read in the sitting room until the guests arrived.

  Miss Fitzpatrick was pretty, in a well-arranged sort of way. Her dress was expensive and her pale curls were glossy and perfectly formed to frame her creamy complexion and blue eyes. She was petite, and the overall effect was almost doll-like. Her teeth were regular—too regular, and were so small and square that they looked like they belonged to a child. Yet something about her looks made Eleanor believe those teeth were sharp.

  She approached Eleanor with her guardian, a tall, good-looking man of sporting appearance, but with a quiet, calculating manner about him. Eleanor thought she meant to exchange some pleasantry, but instead she wordlessly pushed ahead of Eleanor and sauntered down the path pulling her guardian along.

  Eleanor did not much care about the system of precedence, but she was certain that the little minx had intentionally put herself ahead of a duke’s daughter, just to throw down a gauntlet.

  It was petty and ridiculous, and Eleanor resolved to ignore it.

  However Tilly, who was in the lead, maneuvering her bulk down the path upon the arm of Rutherford, seemed to instinctively detect the slight. “Eleanor, why are you all the way back there? Come join us up here, for Rutherford is strong enough to support us both.” She reached an arm invitingly back, and effectively blocked the path of everyone behind her, giving Miss Fitzpatrick a smile. “It has been a while since we have had a nice long chat, and we cannot have the Duke of Grendleridge’s daughter hiding in the shade.”

  Eleanor obligingly walked to join them. As Miss Fitzpatrick made way to let Eleanor pass, she bestowed upon her a cold, practiced smile.

  Eleanor did not respond, but as she took the arm of Rutherford, she noted that she would feel safer not to have her back turned to Miss Fitzpatrick.

  Sounds of the orchestra tuning up trickled out of the cave mouth as they arrived. A small army of servants circulated with glasses of champagne and small plates of cakes and dainties. Rutherford and Tilly wandered off to speak to other guests, and Eleanor excused herself on the pretext of being eager to see the cave.