by Regina Scott
Is that drivel what women expected from the men courting them? Small wonder Charlotte had refused him. He must have looked as disgusted as he felt, for Yvette rose from the spinet and shook out her hands as if to draw attention to herself and away from him.
“Fini,” she announced. “His lordship obviously came for other purposes.”
Put on the spot, all gazes turning to his, Gregory managed a smile. “It was nothing of import. When you have a moment, Lilith, I’d like a word.”
Villers stepped back from her. “I’ve monopolized the lady’s time quite enough. Until this evening, my dear Lady Lilith.” He took her hand and bowed over it. Lilith pressed her hand close as he left the room.
His mother levered herself to her feet with her cane. “What’s Lilith done to displease you now, Gregory?”
Did they think he did nothing but scold? “Nothing to concern you, Mother,” he assured her. “We’ll only be a moment.”
Lilith shrank as if expecting a lecture, but his mother made no move to leave the room.
Yvette stepped between him and his mother. “Come, comtesse. We must return to your room and change for dinner.”
His mother drew herself up, no doubt to protest.
“We will, of course, have to ring for Ada to help us,” Yvette added.
His mother grinned before she schooled her face. “Well, don’t keep me waiting, French.”
“Certainly not.” Turning her face so neither his mother nor his sister could see, Yvette winked at him before accompanying his mother from the room. Gregory could only smile after her.
Lilith stood taller. “What did you need of me, Gregory?”
He turned and nodded her toward the nearest chair, then drew up the sturdier bench opposite her for his own seat. “I wish to speak to you about Mr. Villers.”
Her nostrils flared as her breath came faster. “I won’t give him up. Not again.”
Gregory frowned. “Again? Has he courted you before?”
“As if you didn’t know.” Her face was unyielding, a mask of righteous indignation.
“I don’t know,” he informed her. “You haven’t set foot in London since before Father died, as far as I recall, and I don’t remember Mr. Villers visiting the area before.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits of ice. “Father never said anything to you?”
Foreboding crept up on him. “No. Should he have?”
She relaxed suddenly, and he heard her draw a breath. “No. There was no reason, I suppose. I met Mr. Villers in London. He showed some interest in me while you were gallivanting about the Continent. Nothing came of it. I am enjoying renewing our acquaintance now.”
He wished he could believe that that was all to the matter, but he recognized the signs of evasion. Her gaze refused to meet his, and she was twisting her fingers together in her lap. He took a deep breath and launched into the worst of it.
“And what of this duel he fought in your honor last year?”
She gasped, hands clasping before her dark bodice as her gaze rose to meet his. “He fought a duel? How romantic!”
“Perhaps,” Gregory allowed. “But he refused to say why such a duel was necessary, so I cannot say.”
She dropped her hands. “Don’t you dare browbeat him! He was defending my honor. You said so yourself.”
Gregory leaned forward. “Why did your honor need defending?”
“Most likely gossip.” She bit off the words as if she’d like to sink her teeth into the people who had spread the tale. “Why do you think I left Society? Mr. Villers showed me only the most courteous of attentions, but some people were so jealous they put about that he had ruined me. It was nonsense. The tale must be circulating even now. Hence the need for him to defend me.” She sighed happily.
He could not be so delighted. “Who would say such things about you, must less be willing to duel over them?”
She sniffed. “We have many enemies.”
“That,” Gregory said, “I highly doubt. It sounds as if this whole mess is Villers’s fault. He showed undue attention, he didn’t honor you with a proposal of marriage, he put you in a position that encouraged gossip to start.”
“No,” Lilith said, rising. “You mistake him. He has ever only put my needs first.”
When Gregory shook his head, she raised hers. “I knew it! You will never accept him. You’re just like Father, standing over us, imprisoning us in this house.” She turned and ran from the room, and Gregory could only stare after her.
Standing over them? That had never been his intent, even if he was the tallest. He had tried not to be the least overbearing. And imprisoning them? He was the one who encouraged them to get out! He felt as if the world was tipping, and he could not find his footing.
Still, one thing had not changed. He had work that must be done—protecting Yvette and his family. He would continue to do that to the best of his ability, no matter what his sister and Beau Villers thought.
Chapter Thirteen
Though Yvette ventured out again on Tuesday, no one attempted to accost her, and there were no more sightings of strangers in the woods. She spent the rest of the day Tuesday working with Ada to prepare Lady Carrolton and Lady Lilith for the trip to the Duke of Wey’s estate for the wedding. While they would not be spending the night, each lady required her hair to be washed, trimmed, and styled. Lady Carrolton insisted on beauty treatments. Yvette made sure the earl looked over everything before allowing his mother to put it on herself or in herself. There must be no repetition of the prussic acid incident.
Lady Lilith seemed more agitated than Yvette had expected about the wedding. Mr. Villers had spent a great deal of time in her company—riding, taking tea, playing games on the lawn. Yet there was a certain defeat in her attitude, particularly when the earl was around.
“How have you earned your sister’s wrath?” Yvette asked when they all took a turn about the rear lawn before dinner Tuesday. It had rained earlier, but the sun had since consented to shine. Golden light spilled across the green, setting the grass, the woods, and even the glasshouses at the back of the space to glittering.
The earl watched as Villers strolled along, Lady Lilith’s arm tucked in his. “I’m not entirely sure.”
And the fact saddened him. His eyes turned down at the corners, until he reminded her of a chastised puppy. Best to change the subject. She turned to the view across from them. “And what do you grow in your glasshouses?”
He shifted, blocking her view of the buildings. “Vegetables, fruits, the usual things.”
“So that is how you had strawberries before everyone else,” she said with a smile. “Your gardener must be very talented.”
He was blushing again, and this time she wasn’t sure why. “He does what he can, given other priorities,” he murmured. “Would you care to play battledore, Yvette?”
There was something sweet, something endearing about the way he used her first name. He had not protested when she’d called him Gregory recently. Perhaps he would allow the familiarity in private.
They left early in the morning on Wednesday for the wedding. Yvette felt that chill again as she headed for the stairs. Who knew what Claude might do and when? She could almost wish she wore something more practical than the orchid-colored dress Lady Carrolton had given her. The small bodice hugged her curves, and the graceful skirts overlain with lace would not make running easy. Still, the way Gregory stared as she came down the stairs made the dress feel perfect.
His mother and sister were in fine looks as well, though Lady Carrolton wore a black pelisse to protect her amethyst-colored gown from any travel dirt. She had been persuaded to leave her cane and bell at home. Lilith too wore a pelisse, but Yvette had had her drape a cream Paisley shawl patterned in red and blue about her shoulders. Mr. Villers’s eyes lit in appreciation as she came down the stairs, new bonnet on her dark hair.
Gregory allowed the fellow to sit beside his mother and sister. That left Yvette to sit next to him on the drive
. His sister smiled her thanks to him, but he didn’t fool Yvette. He hadn’t entirely arranged the seating out of generosity. He was worried and still thought he could protect her better than she could.
Something zinged through her as the coach set out. Perhaps Claude was waiting along the way. Perhaps today would be the day they captured him and ended his tyranny over her. Perhaps she would finally be able to go on with her life.
And what would that life be?
She felt no need to enter Society, posture as Lady Lilith was to catch a man’s attention, yet what else was there for her here in England if not marriage? She had no trade outside espionage. Despite her unexpected success with Lady Carrolton, she had no desire to continue in service. After what she had done for England, Lord Hastings would likely be glad to find her a house somewhere. She could reach out to the other émigrés, build the life of gentility her parents would have wished for her.
She just wasn’t sure what she wished for herself.
She was disappointed that nothing happened on the hour drive through the countryside north to the Thames. The green fields, the dark woods, rolled past, until she could see the ribbon of grey in the distance, boats dotting the expanse. The Duke of Wey’s home sat on a hill overlooking the island on which it was built. The stones glowed in the sunlight as if even the house was celebrating.
“Terribly plebian,” Lady Lilith murmured to Mr. Villers as the coach rolled through the crowded streets of the village below the house, on the way to the church. “Look at these people. Shouldn’t they be working?”
“I understand Wey gave everyone in the area the day off,” Gregory said. “He told the businesses he would make up any lost income.”
“Frivolous extravagance,” Lady Lilith said, tossing her head so that the ostrich plumes bobbed on her bonnet.
“A wise use of his wealth,” Yvette countered. “She was the governess, his bride. Considered beneath him. If they marry quietly, some will say he is ashamed of her. What better way to say he believes her his equal than to marry her in front of everyone?”
The earl nodded thoughtfully.
And everyone it was. The little stone church was so crowded some of the locals were relegated to the yard beyond. Yvette glanced around as Gregory led them up the pebbled path, keeping her close to his side, but she did not spot Claude among the dozens of eager strangers. Neither did she see him in the chapel with its delicate arches overhead, though Lady Lilith and Mr. Villers nodded to a number of people. Several gentlemen raised their quizzing glasses to study the earl’s sister as she passed. Yvette smiled.
As a particular friend of the family, Gregory had been saved seats near the front. Lady Carrolton sat upright in the dark boxed pew, head high, face regal. Yvette sat between her and Gregory, then rose as the groom and his attendants came in. The duke was tall, with dark hair and a heart-shaped face. He looked resplendent in a suit of grey superfine, waistcoat shot with silver. Julian Mayes stood beside him, also in a grey suit, though his waistcoat was blue satin striped. His gaze roamed over the attendees, then rested as his mouth turned up. Yvette did not need to turn to know he had likely spotted Meredith. She would have to look for her friend when services ended.
The church quieted, and everyone turned to watch the bride walk down the aisle. Dressed in a grey gown that turned to silver as she moved, the duke’s beloved was a sturdy-looking woman with dark hair and an easy smile. Her attendants consisted of three girls, one young enough to have just barely entered the schoolroom. They wore rose-colored satin dresses and carried sprays of roses bound with white satin ribbons that matched the ribbons in their hair. Several of the guests smiled fondly as they passed. His Grace looked utterly besotted as he took his bride’s hand and pledged his love.
“I, Alaric, Duke of Wey, do take thee, Jane Kimball, as my lawfully wedded wife.”
For some reason, Yvette glanced at Gregory. Was that longing on his face? Did he wish for an adoring wife to manage his home, fawn on his friends? Gaze at him so trustingly? Could she play that role? Did she want to?
A cheer went up as the vicar pronounced the duke and his bride husband and wife. Some of the aristocracy looked shocked by the display, but Yvette could only smile. It seemed the duke and his duchess were much loved by their staff and tenants.
“But will anyone receive them?” Lady Lilith was murmuring to Mr. Villers as they started out of the church. A select group—Gregory and his family among them—had been invited to attend the wedding breakfast at the duke’s home afterward.
“We will,” Gregory said, and no one gainsaid him.
Yvette stayed behind Lady Carrolton and Lady Lilith as they navigated the receiving line inside the vast entry hall of the house. Floored with flagstone, the space soared three stories to a painted ceiling. Gregory looked right at home with the hosts of heaven riding into battle above him.
Though many of the guests were ogling the new duchess as if she were a rare bird, she smiled as they were introduced to her. Several frowned or blinked after she spoke to them, and, as Yvette and Gregory neared the couple, Yvette began to see why.
“I won’t remember your names,” the new duchess was telling a viscount and his wife. “But I’m glad you could join us.”
The little girl beside her, curls golden and eyes bright, tugged on her skirt and pointed. “Look, Mrs. Kimball, it’s Lady Quarrelsome.”
Lady Carrolton drew herself up, and Lady Lilith took equal affront, while Yvette hid a smile at the accurate appellation.
“Remember to say Mother now, Belle,” His Grace murmured to the daughter from his first marriage before turning to the countess. “Lady Carrolton, Lady Lilith, Mr. Villers, thank you for joining us.”
“Yes, well, quality will out,” Mr. Villers said with a look to Lady Lilith.
The duke smiled at his bride. “It will indeed.”
She blushed under his regard, then turned to Yvette as Gregory began speaking quietly with her husband. “You must be the lady who took Patience Ramsey’s place as companion. Any thoughts of hemlock yet?”
Lady Carrolton sniffed. “It wasn’t hemlock. It was prussic acid.”
“Inventive,” the new duchess said.
Yvette laughed. Seeing Lady Carrolton’s scowl, she adopted a more servile look. “I am honored to serve two such fine ladies.”
“Indeed,” Lady Carrolton said. “Let us make room for others. Everyone wants to look at a seven-day wonder.” Mr. Villers took her arm and offered his other to Lady Lilith, and they sailed past.
“I look forward to seeing you at weekly tea,” the bride said to Yvette with a wink as she followed. “And I won’t make you sit along the wall.”
“The impertinence,” Lady Carrolton fumed as they moved up the stairs and into a long gallery with the other guests.
“The cheek,” Mr. Villers agreed.
“The disgrace,” Lady Lilith lamented.
“I like her,” Yvette said.
They found a spot to wait for the newlyweds to lead them into the dining room. While Lady Carrolton, her daughter, and Mr. Villers spoke with friends, Meredith materialized out of the crowd and moved in next to Yvette.
“You look well,” she said.
“You do not,” Yvette replied, noting the darkness under her eyes. “What’s happened?”
Meredith brushed down her lavender skirts. “Nothing. Can you say the same?”
So, she was worried too. “Mais oui. I understand my cousin has been seen, but he has not approached me.”
Meredith seized her arm and drew her closer. “Then they insist on that ridiculous scheme to parade you to all and sundry.”
“I agreed to it,” Yvette reminded her. “It is for the best.”
A head taller than anyone else in the room, Gregory was moving toward them. He nodded in greeting to Meredith, then lowered his head and his voice to take them both into his confidence.
“I spoke with Wey,” he murmured. “He has heard of no strangers in the area recently.”
“True,” he allowed, “but I feel better with Wey being aware of the situation.”
Meredith did not look comforted. The poor duke—to have his wedding interrupted for intrigue! Yvette had been hoping to put an end to her cousin’s villainy, but perhaps it would be better if he did not attempt to reach her today.
~~~
Gregory glanced around the gallery, the joyful faces of most of the attendees at odds with the more solemn faces looking out of the paintings on the wall. Even though far fewer had been invited to the wedding breakfast than the service itself, at least one hundred people gathered round, and that discounted the footmen wending their way among the guests with crystal goblets on trays. Most of those attending he knew. Worth and his sister Charlotte, the Duke of Emerson and his older daughter, lords and ladies from around the area.
He couldn’t help his grin at the entourage quickly approaching.
“Harry!” He stuck out a hand, and the baronet shook it gladly. Sir Harold Orwell still looked like his pirate forebears—swarthy, confident, and nimble.
“And Miss Ramsey,” Gregory added, bowing to the lady on his friend’s arm.
His mother’s former companion smiled sweetly. Gregory had always thought her aptly named—nothing seemed to ruffle the dark-eyed blonde. She had certainly blossomed since leaving Carrolton Park. He couldn’t recall her wearing anything as pretty as the pink gown with roses embroidered at the neck and hem. Or had his mother been the one to decree she only wear navy and grey?
“Lord Carrolton,” Patience said with a curtsey. Then her eyes brightened. “And Meredith and Yvette! It’s so good to see you!”