by Olivia Drake
Chapter 15
On such a fine springtime afternoon, Mayfair teemed with pedestrians out for a stroll in the sunshine. A few fleecy clouds grazed in the blue meadow of the sky. During the night, a rainstorm had blown away the stench of coal smoke and left in its wake the scent of blooming flowers and fresh greenery.
His long ears flapping, Charlie trotted happily along the foot pavement with Laura. The young spaniel paused now and then to sniff a bush or to lift his leg on a lamppost. He was remarkably well mannered, never barking at other dogs or trying to chase after carriages in the street. At the slightest infraction, he responded obediently to a firm word and a tug on his lead, so Laura felt confident that he would not draw undue attention to her.
She had taken care to dress the part of the paid companion in a drab gray gown devoid of any trimmings. Keeping her chin down in a modest pose, she avoided the gaze of any passersby. Her features, she hoped, were obscured by a combination of the wide-brimmed bonnet and the round spectacles.
Laura had been worried that morning when the eyeglasses were nowhere to be found. She hadn’t wanted to venture outside without the disguise. Then a footman had delivered them to her along with a sealed note. The bold black script of the message was burned into her memory.
I look forward with great anticipation to our next meeting. May I propose we drink more wine? I remain,
Yours, Alex
An unseemly elation suffused Laura, making her heart flutter despite the cudgel of common sense. May I propose we drink more wine? It was the height of foolishness to dwell on the teasing hint that they indulge their desire for each other. Perhaps it also had been the height of foolishness for her to kiss Alex in the first place.
In the bright light of day, she couldn’t escape the truth. The mad attraction to him that she had felt as a debutante had survived disillusionment and ten years’ separation. She had been certain of her scorn for him … until his kindness to Lady Josephine on her birthday had tempted Laura to look more charitably upon his character.
The disturbing glimpse into his unhappy childhood had further eroded her resentment of him. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep from picturing him as a mistreated little boy who had suffered the cruelty of his own father.
Then later, when they had been alone in the drawing room, Alex had been candid in their discussion of the missing necklace. Instead of shielding her as many gentlemen would have done, he had spoken frankly. He had even offered to help Laura in her investigation.
She intended to accept his aid. That was why she had kissed him, to ensure that he truly would dedicate himself to her quest. She had put him off for two days solely as a means to make him cool his heels in the hope of heightening his determination to please her.
His standing in society would give him a greater chance of success, she knew, although there were drawbacks. For one, Alex had seemed reluctant to discuss his godmother, the Duchess of Knowles. He might not be willing to reveal whether she had had an affair with Lord Haversham. For another, Alex still believed Papa to be the true culprit. Worst of all, there was a distinct possibility that the earl was merely humoring her in an effort to make her his mistress.
Pursing her lips, Laura spotted Berkeley Square just ahead with its lush greenery and numerous plane trees. It had been a pleasant stroll from the town house where she’d left Lady Josephine napping on the chaise. Laura paused at the corner to let a carriage rattle past, and Charlie strained at the leash, clearly eager at the prospect of another long route to explore with all its myriad new smells.
They proceeded at a brisk pace across the street. Instead of going to the gardens, where fashionable people promenaded along the paths, Laura headed on a circuit of the residences surrounding the square. She studied the row of elegant buildings, occupied by many of London’s finest families. Multiple chimneys topped the tall, four-story homes. Here at the ground level, most of the windows had lace under-curtains that blocked the interior rooms from view. Checking the polished brass numbers over the doors, Laura ascertained that the domicile of interest to her lay at the far end of the broad road.
She passed other people on the street, a postman in his cap and red coat, a governess shooing a little boy and girl toward the park, two elderly gentlemen ambling along in deep conversation. Laura avoided looking directly at any of them. Yet despite the gravity of her purpose, she found an irrepressible smile softening her mouth.
It had to be the fine weather that caused the buoyancy of her mood. The breeze tugged at the brim of her bonnet, birds twittered and swooped in the trees, and the sunshine bathed her in warmth. In Portugal, she had been accustomed to spending much time outdoors in the garden, and she’d missed that. As much as she liked Lady Josephine, it was a relief to escape the confinement of her cluttered house. Most of all, Laura finally could take action in her quest to investigate Lord Haversham and his snooty daughter Evelyn.
Alex didn’t know it, but he had provided this opportunity when he had given Charlie to Lady Josephine. Now Laura had a ready excuse to take frequent walks through Mayfair.
Her thoughts lingered on Alex. Perhaps she should admit that their kiss also played a part in her high spirits. It was gratifying to recall how discombobulated he’d looked afterward, and to realize that she could stir such passion in him. For all his cool, urbane air, the almighty Earl of Copley had been deeply affected by their embrace.
But she must not allow him to kiss her again. No. It would be dangerous to encourage him. Her present situation was entirely different than it had been ten years ago as a lady of privilege. Now her father had been convicted—albeit unfairly—of thievery. With her reputation ruined, she could only ever be Alex’s mistress. A man of his stature would never make an honorable offer to a fallen woman.
Nor did she want one from him. For as long as she lived, Laura would never forget the sight of him tying Papa’s hands behind his back with the intention of taking him to the magistrate at Bow Street Station. Had she not struck out at Alex with the penknife, Papa would have been locked in Newgate Prison to await sentencing to death.
Laura took a deep breath to clear her mind of those disturbing memories. Nearing her destination, she needed to observe without distraction. The last house on the corner was the address the footman had provided her. She had never visited Lord Haversham’s home because of his feud with Papa.
Unlike the other row houses with their brick facades, this one was built of gray stone. Triangular pilasters topped the tall windows on the first floor where the reception rooms were located. A decorative iron railing ran along the front of the property, with a narrow strip of well-tended red tulips on either side of the short front walk.
Had Papa come here on his return to London? She desperately needed to find out.
A smart yellow phaeton, of the type driven by dashing young gentlemen, was parked along the curbstone with a groom holding the horses. The Marquess of Haversham must be entertaining a caller.
How Laura wished that she dared to walk up the three granite steps to the portico and knock on the brass-trimmed door. She could only imagine his lordship’s reaction at recognizing the daughter of his nemesis standing in his entrance hall. Would he turn pale with shock?
Would he wonder if she’d guessed that he’d arranged for Papa’s murder?
Tugging lightly on the leash, she slowed Charlie’s pace to match her own. She pretended to be admiring the frontage but could see no sign of life inside the forbidding stone residence. Unfortunately, it was too soon to let Lord Haversham learn of her presence in London. First, certain facts must be ascertained.
Her hope had been to catch a maidservant polishing the brass or a footman collecting the post from the box. Then Laura would have reached into her pocket for the sketch she’d drawn of Papa’s face. She could have asked if by chance he had visited here some six weeks ago.
Disappointment filled her as she strolled past the entrance and headed for the corner. Perhaps if she returned early in the morning, sh
e might meet with more success. Most servants did their cleaning before the family was awake. If she walked Charlie past here twice a day at varying times, eventually someone would be outside …
From behind her came the click of a door opening and the sound of voices, then the trill of ladylike laughter. Laura glanced over her shoulder and spied a liveried footman holding open the front door as a woman emerged from the house. Lady Evelyn!
Or rather, Her Grace, the Duchess of Cliffington. Violet had said that Evelyn was now a rich widow.
Laura quickly veered course to an iron bench by the street and sat down. Charlie cocked his head at her in a puzzled glance. She bent down to scratch his floppy ears. “We’re only stopping to rest for a moment, darling. We’ll be on our way again soon.”
Pretending to be absorbed in petting the dog, Laura watched the porch from beneath the rim of her bonnet. Evelyn wore an exquisite emerald-green gown with a daffodil sash that nipped her slender waist. A straw bonnet sat cunningly atop her stylish auburn hair and framed her delicate features. With her milky pale skin and fine figure, she looked more like a debutante than a widow of eight-and-twenty.
A gentleman appeared directly behind her in the doorway. He stepped into the sunshine and clapped a tall black hat onto his flaxen hair. In his silver-gray pin-striped coat, burgundy waistcoat, and starched white cravat, he had a dapper air that struck a chord of recognition in Laura.
Mr. Rupert Stanhope-Jones. She remembered seeing him in the crowd at Lord Scarborough’s ball. Long ago, he had been among Laura’s circle of admirers. In fact, he’d been one of several ardent gentlemen who had proposed marriage to her. But now it appeared he had transferred his affections to the merry widow.
How interesting, for Evelyn had been playing up to Alex, too. Was she merely a flirt, as she’d once been, or did she now take lovers to her bed?
Laura clenched her teeth. She didn’t care what Evelyn did—even with Alex. All that mattered was proving Evelyn had aided Lord Haversham by planting the stolen earrings in Papa’s desk.
Carrying a decorative gold-topped cane, Mr. Stanhope-Jones offered his arm to Evelyn and escorted her down the steps toward the waiting phaeton. Laura didn’t want to be caught staring, so she took Charlie up into her lap and cuddled him while she strained to eavesdrop. Much to her frustration, however, a carriage rattled down the street and she caught only snatches of their conversation.
“… the perfect day for a drive in the park,” Evelyn said. “I wonder if…”
“… your beauty will outshine them all…”
A warble of laughter drifted on the breeze. “… such a flirt, Rupert … I daresay … why, look! Have you ever seen such a sweet little darling?”
Laura continued to fuss over the spaniel ensconced in her lap. Delighted with the attention, the pup licked her chin while wagging its tail.
All of a sudden she noticed the tap of approaching footsteps. From the corner of her eye, she spied an emerald-green skirt sweeping toward her across the paving stones. Evelyn.
A horrifying realization struck Laura too late. The sweet little darling Evelyn had referenced was none other than Charlie.
* * *
A white-wigged footman led the way through the arched doorway, announced the arrival of the Earl of Copley, and then departed on silent feet. Alex stepped into an airy morning room bedecked in subtle shades of rose and yellow. The decor was as elegant and feminine as the woman seated in a gilt chair by the window. Seeing him, she closed her book and placed it on a nearby table.
He went straight to her and bowed over her slim, outstretched hand. “Lady Milford. It’s good of you to receive me on such short notice.”
“Short notice? Why, shame on you for giving me no notice at all. You may count yourself lucky to find me at home on such a fine afternoon.” The scolding was a tease, for her smile warmly welcomed him. “I regret to say, I am engaged in half an hour for a carriage ride in the park with Lord Melbourne.”
That she was a confidante of the prime minister spoke well of her sense of discretion. “I shan’t keep you long. I merely need a second opinion on a private matter.”
“How intriguing. Do pour yourself a brandy and sit down.”
He went to the set of crystal decanters on a side table, the contents glowing golden-brown in the sunlight. “I should rather call it more mystifying than intriguing,” he said, removing the stopper and pouring a neat measure into a glass. “You’re the only person in whom I dare confide.”
A vision in lavender silk, she eyed him closely as he seated himself in a nearby chair. “Ah. I would surmise, then, that this visit has to do with Lady Josephine’s new companion?”
“Quite. We are the only two in London who know Miss Falkner’s true identity.”
Alex took a swallow, though with his wits in such a flux, the superlative quality of the liquor was wasted on him. He had lain awake late into the night, staring into the darkness and trying to deduce the workings of Laura’s mind. At one time he had known her every thought. She’d worn her emotions on her sleeve for all the world to see.
But Laura no longer regarded him with starry-eyed adoration. She kept him at arm’s length—except when it suited her. She had invited his kiss the previous evening, only to end their embrace far too precipitously. More than anything, her poise irked him. She had been too much in control of herself—while he had been mad with passion. Now he resented being ordered to wait two days while she decided whether or not to accept his offer of help.
What the devil was there for her to ponder? She knew that he had the advantage of her in society. Whether she liked it or not, that was reality.
He realized that Lady Milford was politely waiting for him to continue. “I’m in something of a quandary,” he said. “Miss Falkner is adamant that her father did not steal the Blue Moon diamond. She believes that someone else in society framed him for the deed. And I fear the little fool is determined to apprehend the culprit herself.”
Lady Milford raised a dainty eyebrow. “Indeed? I wondered if she might have a hidden reason for wanting a position. Now, just to clarify, you aren’t simply speculating. Did she tell you this herself?”
“Yes. She admitted it to me yesterday evening—after she’d consumed several glasses of wine.” When that eyebrow arched higher and a shrewd light came into those violet eyes, he quickly clarified, “It was my aunt’s birthday.”
“I see. And did Miss Falkner reveal the name of the person she suspects?”
“No. That’s the devil of it. She refused to breathe a word.” Alex scowled at the liquid in the bottom of his glass before fixing his gaze on Lady Milford again. “I was hoping that with all your knowledge of society, you might help me determine the answer.”
A cool contemplation entered her exquisitely beautiful features. Her hair was rich and dark in the sunshine, and not for the first time he wondered just how old Lady Milford was. She had to be of his parents’ generation, and yet she seemed ageless.
“First I must ask you a question that has been troubling me,” she said. “Is there even the slightest chance that Miss Falkner may be correct about her father’s innocence?”
The question struck Alex like a deep blow. He had asked it of himself all those years past. And he had done everything in his power to ascertain the truth. “No,” he said curtly. “None whatsoever.”
Lady Milford gave a nod. “Well, then. Let me see. I scarcely knew Martin Falkner, though he seemed to be a gentleman of upright character. Like everyone else, I was shocked to learn of his thievery.” She paused. “Tell me, has Miss Falkner been making inquiries about anyone in particular?”
“Only my godmother … Good God, you don’t suppose she’s formed some wild notion that Her Grace planted the diamond earrings herself?” Alex paused, wondering if Lady Milford even knew that the Duchess of Knowles had a reason to want to ruin Martin Falkner. “Never mind, that’s absurd. There would be no purpose to it.”
“Unless Her Grace had noticed
your interest in Miss Falkner and wanted to nip it in the bud before an engagement could be announced.”
Far from it. The duchess herself had dispatched him to court Laura as a means of secretly investigating her father. But no one knew that—least of all Laura.
Alex shook his head. “The duchess would have had to pretend the Blue Moon had been stolen. It would mean she could never wear it again—and merely to stop an engagement? My godmother is fond of me, but not to that degree!”
Lady Milford gave him an astute stare. “I am only trying to put myself in Miss Falkner’s frame of mind. To her, that may be a viable possibility. Do you know if the duchess ever expressed her disapproval of the match directly to Miss Falkner?”
“No. Laura—Miss Falkner—would have told me of it.” Anxious to leave the topic of his godmother, Alex said, “I’ve been pondering a more likely possibility. Martin Falkner had had an old quarrel with Haversham. Do you know the source of it?”
A pensive look came over her face. “There was a scandal some thirty years ago. They nearly came to blows over a woman, Miss Falkner’s mother, Aileen, if I remember correctly.” Glancing into the sunlit garden, Lady Milford tapped her chin. “She was a great beauty, connected to Irish nobility. When Mr. Falkner won her heart, Haversham shunned them both. Of course it was all for naught since Aileen died shortly after giving birth to Laura. Such a tragic tale.”
A long time ago, Alex recalled, Laura had spoken wistfully of the mother she had never known. “Martin Falkner must have told his daughter about the feud, perhaps many times while she was growing up. She would have acquired his dislike of Haversham.”
“And be quick to blame him for planting the earrings.” Lady Milford pursed her lips. “I certainly can see where the ancient feud might have led her astray. However…”
“Yes?”
“Miss Falkner might be more inclined to suspect Haversham’s daughter of planning the hoax. They were, after all, rivals for your affections.”