“You must call me Mia, Your Grace. We have known each other quite long enough.”
And I am so much older than you that I could almost be your father. He thought it for her, though in fact, Mia was all smiles and charm and did not appear at all put off by his age.
They took their turn on the floor, and later he did the same with Miss Monksford and three other young ladies. They all danced creditably well, but Mia Castellano was by far the best of the group.
Finally, finally the concert master announced a waltz. Meryon turned to Elena and bowed. “Would you dance with me, signora?”
“No, Your Grace. This is Mia’s night. I am observing.”
It was not a snub, but close enough that the baroness murmured, “Elena.” The one word conveyed a wealth of sensibilities, all of which could be summed up in a few more words. Something akin to “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Meryon knew exactly what Elena was thinking. That she wanted nothing to do with him but would remain civil at all costs. For Mia.
He was ruthless enough to take advantage of that. He had to have a few minutes alone with her. “I’m sure you would enjoy a breath of air, a sweet or perhaps a lemonade.” Meryon held out his arm and, as he hoped, she could not refuse.
He smiled and she looked away, which struck him as odd until the baroness laughed. “Oh, my goodness, no wonder you do not use that smile very often, Your Grace.”
He turned that same smile on the lady and she blushed. “So few occasions merit it, my lady, but this company is exceptional.”
Lady Monksford curtsied to him and pretended that Rosemary had called her, leaving them alone.
Elena hesitated and then, with a word to the mother of one of Mia’s friends, let Meryon escort her to the dining room. The room was empty, supper not yet announced, but one of the servants was happy to bring the duke and his guest some wine.
“Let’s stand near the door so that The Gossips can see we are being civil but not secretive.”
They stood quietly for a moment. He enjoyed having her near, would have been happy to stay like that for an hour, but that, too, The Gossips would have noticed and commented on.
“Elena, Lord William told me this morning that you are the daughter of the Duke of Bendas. That he is the man who disowned you at the age of fourteen and the reason you went to Italy.”
“I see.” She put down her glass of wine and folded her hands at her waist. “Do you know why William found it necessary to violate my confidence?”
“He thought about it before he spoke. I am sure he considered it necessary. It was.”
“And why is that, Your Grace?”
“Your father—”
“The Duke of Bendas. I do not call him my father.”
Elena spoke with such anger Meryon hoped it was not aimed at him. “As you wish,” he said, bowing slightly. “Lord William thinks that the duke bought the Verano violin so that he can attempt a reconciliation.”
She seemed to consider the idea, and then shook her head. “I do not know if that makes a difference or not. I would just as soon buy it from him. I do not trust the Duke of Bendas at all.”
“Whether you reconcile with him or not, I need you to understand that I have every intention of stripping him of his title and his honors. And I want to assure you that action has nothing to do with you.”
She watched him for a long while, her eyes staring into his, as if she could find what she was looking for if she held his gaze long enough.
“Where is the stranger that I met on our first evening together?” she finally asked. “The man who kissed me with a touch that was a promise everything would be all right.” Elena reached for her glass and took a sip of the wine. “Almost every other time we have been together, in public, I’ve seen the man you are now, contained, with passion carefully controlled.”
She must have felt him stiffen at this rebuke because she went on, her words hurried now. “I am sorry. I am sorry to hurt you this way. I need you to understand.”
He bowed from the neck, his face sober, but he said nothing. He understood. He understood that what he did have to give was inadequate by her standards.
“I do care about you, Meryon. I even worry.” She said the last as though it embarrassed her. Then she turned practical. “That night, when the wheel came off your carriage. Did it ever occur to you that you were the intended victim?”
“Yes.” It was almost the truth. “And it also occurred to me that you might have been a target as well.”
“Oh, you sound like William,” she said dismissively and set her glass of wine down. Holding out her hands, she raised and lowered them imitating a balance. “So, the feud between you and Bendas threatens me from both sides. There is very little comfort in the fact that if I am hurt, it is only because I am too close to one or the other of you.”
“It is not something to joke about. Bendas is quite unbalanced and I am determined to keep him from harming anyone else, including you. At least the danger from me is no more than hurt feelings.”
“Yes, a broken heart is so easy to recover from.”
“I am forever sorry, but I have apologized before. More than once.” Irritated, close to angry, Meryon turned to leave, But Elena stayed him with a hand on his arm.
“If you could ever learn to give love as passionately as you seek justice then there might be hope. If you were not so afraid to risk your heart.” She stopped as if she knew that was asking the impossible.
“I will escort you back to your friends, signora.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” She took his arm, barely touching his sleeve and they walked down the passage. “Neither of us wishes to attract The Gossips. Soon our friendship will be a dim memory.”
“Not too soon, I hope.”
“Once again, you ask more than I can give. I will forget it all, Your Grace, even our first meeting.”
“No, signora,” he said with deliberate command. “Our first meeting was as honest as a baby’s breath. It was a solace I did not know I needed and will always be grateful for.”
Meryon waited to see if she would say anything else. He could not recall the last time he had waited for someone to dismiss him.
“As you wish, Your Grace. I hope the rest of your evening is uneventful.”
Elena left him to return to her party. Meryon watched her out of sight, then found a footman and asked him to ensure that his carriage was brought round immediately. He left without saying good night to Metcalfe, who would hector him into going back to the card room when all he wanted was to go home.
As the carriage rolled through the streets he could not forget one line. “If you were not so afraid to risk your heart.”
Meryon realized he was not so different from Lord William.
He’d watched the young viscount watch Mia as she danced her way through her first ball. His heart was in his eyes. Every time she laughed or flirted with one of her partners, he would wince as though it was a pinch to his heart.
If there was ever a man willing to declare himself, willing to share his heart, it was William Bendasbrook. And even he was afraid. Not a coward. Just afraid.
Meryon had seen many men who were afraid. It was not a company he particularly wanted to be numbered in but it was better than being called a coward.
The carriage came to a halt in front of Penn House. For now, he knew exactly what he was going to do: spend the rest of the evening with the one female who loved him without limit. Magda.
36
IT TOOK A WEEK to orchestrate the final confrontation with Bendas. In the meantime the Indemnity Act passed and the budget was under discussion.
Meryon had met twice with William Wilberforce and, even after frank discussion about the difficulties of even presenting a bill that would mandate care for widows and orphans, Meryon was still determined to go forward.
There had been no further attempts on his life, unless he wanted to count a particularly awful fish soup Cook had prepared.
Me
ryon had seen Elena Verano three times. They had bowed, curtsied, and spoken briefly, convincing no one that they were still on friendly terms.
There had been no word from The Gossips about Elena’s relationship to the Duke of Bendas, so Meryon was reasonably certain she had either refused a meeting or not been approached.
Meryon was set on moving the family to the house in Richmond. His appearance at the Italian ambassador’s reception would be his farewell to the ton, and to Elena if he could find a few minutes alone with her.
Meryon spent most of that Saturday reviewing the confrontation with Bendas, determined to leave nothing to chance. The ton would be well represented and would be witnesses, but Meryon had also managed to secure the attendance of two of the Bendas trustees. They would inform the others.
Meryon left time to dress and arrive early, but when the nurse reported that Alicia was ill, he hurried up to the nursery. The child was feverish and chilled, the nurse had sent for a physician, and Rexton was playing out in the stables and would not be allowed near his sister until she was properly diagnosed.
Meryon was loath to leave, but his plans had been too difficult to arrange to abandon them for what might well be a cold.
He left strict orders for the nurse to send for him if the physician’s diagnosis warranted it, left the nursery, and dressed as quickly as he could.
Wilson rode in the carriage with him, if only to guarantee that his livery would not smell of horse. The boy knew exactly what was expected of him. As the duke’s page, he would be at Meryon’s beck and call. As the boy said, “Like I am for John Coachman or the head groom in the stable.”
“Everyone will be curious about you as I never use a page. They will stare at you, but will not talk to you. You know exactly what you are to do.”
The boy nodded and they traveled the rest of the way in silence. Bringing a page, when he had never done so before, would attract the attention of The Gossips, which ensured they would not miss a moment.
The drive seemed to take forever, but that could have been because Wilson fidgeted so. Finally the coach reached the front door of an impressive townhouse, larger than the usual, with the double doors opened wide to the sight of people milling around inside.
There was no line of carriages. Meryon had arrived beyond fashionably late, and for a moment he worried that Bendas might have left already.
Meryon was greeted by the ambassador and his wife, who were still receiving guests in the hall, then made his way, with Wilson trailing him, through knots of people discussing everything from the business of Parliament to the best way to train a dog to attack.
Besides the best of society, the company was filled with foreign dignitaries and “friends of Italy.” The Duke of Bendas, most likely invited because his long-deceased wife had been Italian, sat by himself and was easily the oldest person present.
The Gossips had found a spot near the door where they could see who came and went in the passage and at the entry, and still keep an eye on the main salon. At the moment they were talking among themselves, though they never stopped looking around for something of interest. Meryon nodded to the cluster and they all nodded and curtsied back.
He moved deeper into the overcrowded salon. Perfume, candle wax, and the smell of overheated bodies made it more of a crush than was pleasant. Finally he heard Elena’s voice and headed toward it, determined to have a word with her before the drama unfolded.
Standing at the center of a group of gentlemen, Elena was doing more listening than speaking. She was wearing a maroon gown and an exquisite diamond necklace that called attention to her discreet décolletage. He watched for a long minute until she looked up and saw him, then he walked straight to her. The crowd stood back and he bowed.
“Good evening, signora.”
She curtsied, eyed Wilson with a moment’s curiosity, but did not answer Meryon’s greeting.
“Take my arm for a moment.”
Her eyes spoke for her, their chill freezing him to the bone.
“Please,” he added hastily.
“No, thank you, Your Grace.”
That was all she said, without an excuse, without a regretful smile. Then she doubled the offense by resuming her conversation, in German, with some gentleman Meryon did not recognize.
Meryon recognized a sickening mix of anger and embarrassment that he had not felt since his days at Oxford. Now The Gossips had something to talk about. With a curt nod, which Elena ignored, he moved away on stiff legs. He would have to move forward with his plan without warning her.
If she and Bendas had reconciled, what he intended would hurt her as much as it hurt Bendas. Meryon did not care. He could not care.
When he saw Lord William come into the room, Meryon gave himself no more time to think about the consequences. He nodded at Wilson and they took their places halfway across the room but in direct line of sight of the Duke of Bendas. And Rogers.
Meryon and Wilson stood by themselves, a sea of people moving around them. Wilson did as directed and stared at Rogers, who felt the scrutiny in less than a minute. Bendas’s secretary glanced around the room until he saw Wilson. They stared at each other and then Rogers pretended to ignore him.
A minute later The Gossips had noticed Rogers’s discomfort and Wilson’s intense stare and had begun to watch and, more unsettling, to speculate.
Meryon could see Rogers growing restless, unable to decide what to do. Short of panic, but confused. Finally he bent down to speak to Bendas, who looked over with sneering disdain at Wilson and Meryon.
Perfect. But Meryon had claimed victory a minute too soon. In that minute, Elena approached the Duke of Bendas.
No, he thought. Elena was most emphatically not part of the plan. Meryon watched as if it were happening in a dream.
Elena curtsied graciously and waited.
Bendas stood slowly, giving her a perfunctory bow, but smiled as he did.
Bendas glanced at Meryon with cold calculation replacing the smile.
Then the old duke nodded at Elena, giving her permission to speak.
Walk away. Oh, Elena, dear heart, walk away. Meryon wanted to shout, but knew that it would no more than delay the inevitable. Bendas was going to attack him through Elena. Bendas might not know precisely what Meryon had planned to ruin him, but that would not keep the old duke from taking his revenge beforehand.
Meryon did not hear what Elena said; her back was to the room as she spoke, unaware that most everyone was watching them.
Bendas must not have heard her either, because she took a step closer and spoke again.
Bendas said nothing at first.
Terror was not too strong a word to describe what Meryon felt. Acting on a moment’s thought, not quite impulse, he moved closer to her to lend his support. Elena had made it clear she did not want him involved. Torn between what he knew was going to happen and what Elena wanted, he stopped six feet from her and the duke, praying that his trap had not compromised her attempt at conversation, if not reconciliation, with her father.
Bendas faced the room and spoke out loud as if he wanted to entertain, not just The Gossips, but everyone in the room.
“You want me to sell you the Verano violin?”
Meryon was close enough to see that Bendas’s smile was wicked and unfriendly. Elena herself took a step back.
“I will give the violin to you, Ellen, if you admit that you were a disrespectful girl and have grown into a vain and stupid whore.”
The crowd gasped, almost as one. Elena did not say a word, or not one that Meryon could hear, but she did begin to turn away from Bendas, swaying slightly.
Meryon hurried to her side, just as the old man lifted his cane and blocked her way. She reached down to move it aside and he swatted her knuckles with it.
Now Meryon did act on impulse. Whether she wanted his help or not, whether he was the reason for Bendas’s insult or not. Meryon took her injured hand, kissed the red mark, and kicked the cane out of Bendas’s hand.
/>
“You are the vain and stupid one, Bendas.” Meryon held on to Elena’s ice-cold fingers. They were all the inspiration he needed. “You are a disgrace to your name. Everyone here is now a witness to your insanity. You no longer even know right from wrong.”
Bendas narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth but Meryon wasn’t finished.
“Tell us: What was your excuse when your daughter was fourteen and you disowned her?”
“She is not my daughter,” Bendas declared
“Oh, yes, she is. Your son and heir as well as his son, Lord William, will attest to it. Lord William has been her staunch supporter for all these years.” He could feel Elena begin to shake and he tucked her hand over his arm, pulling her close. “Lord William has a letter from his father swearing that you threw your daughter out of your house because she chose to sing a song that displeased you.”
Meryon turned his back on Bendas, who had collapsed into his chair. Facing Elena fully, Meryon bowed to her. “I know better than to ask if you are all right. May I escort you home, my lady?”
Meryon had no idea what would come next, but was almost sure she would not refuse him. Elena did not answer or could not, but did not let go of his arm. They had taken two steps away when Bendas yelled, “Wait!”
Meryon would have ignored him if the old duke had not pulled the violin case onto his lap.
“I bought this from DeBora.” Bendas’s half-blind eyes radiated spite. “I was going to keep it to remind me of my child’s perfidy, but I think I will give it to you so you will have a constant reminder of how much I hate you.”
Elena murmured, “Why?” to no one in particular but Meryon whispered back, “Because he knows you are not afraid of him, will never bow to him. Using his title to cow people is the only sick pleasure he has left in life.”
Bendas could not hear what he said. But Bendas had apparently reached his limit anyway. The old man pushed the violin case at them, and when neither one of them would take it, Bendas opened the latch and emptied the case.
The Verano violin, broken into pieces, clattered to the floor.
Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] Page 29