by Sahara Kelly
“Lucius?”
“Yes?”
“You’re a bird-witted dandiprat.”
“Damn. I’ll have to look that one up.”
Dev smiled. “I know.” With that, he led the little party back downstairs, still holding Léonie’s hand.
She wasn’t about to withdraw it. It felt too perfect just where it was.
Chapter Eight
It took a bit of work, but Léonie was finally persuaded to rest. Dev enlisted Julia’s help and she disappeared to settle Léonie for an afternoon’s nap.
It gave Dev a chance to thank Mary and Eileen, and also to take care of what he felt was an enormous debt he owed them.
“And I’ll hear no more about it, if you please.” He made his tone as stern as he could. “You’ve save not only Léonie but also myself from the worrying task of finding something to wear or engaging annoying dressmakers. You know her size and her style and you’re our friends. So let’s close this issue. I now have an ongoing account with you and I’ll be sure to let Léonie know as soon as she’s up and around on a more permanent basis. I foresee ball gowns in her future.”
His highhanded speech was listened to respectfully, and then ignored. They both hugged him, taking the wind out of his sails.
“Anything she needs, Dev.” Mary patted his sleeve. “She’s a dear and deserves all good things.”
“Don’t you be worryin’ about the lass, Dev,” Eileen added. “She’s got good luck lookin’ over her shoulder. She’s here now, and with you and Julia and Lucius on her side?” She threw her arms wide open. “Canna ask for more, lad. Canna ask for more.”
Dev sighed, surrendered and hugged them back. “We will keep you up to date, ladies. I promise.”
With that, and the considerable largesse that Dev had insisted would open his “account” with them, Mary and Eileen took their leave, promising a few more garments over the coming days, “just to tide the lass over”.
Lucius, who had been leaning against a newel post in the foyer and watching the entire thing, chuckled as the door closed.
“Aren’t they wonderful?”
“They are indeed. Salt of the earth.” Dev nodded and sighed. “Well, my friend. Where do I start?”
Lucius considered the matter. “If I were in your shoes, I think the Elwyn matter deserves attention. He was some kind of family connection; the Earl of March is in town, I know, and with Elwyn’s death, inquiries would seem natural.”
Dev nodded and then glanced at the ornate grandfather clock solemnly ticking away the seconds in one corner. “I might just drop over to his club for an afternoon visit. With luck, I’ll catch him having an early brandy.”
Lucius straightened. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. If I come with you, I might be able to catch one of my acquaintances from a while ago who has ties to the diplomatic circle. If he’ll still speak to me.” He frowned. “I don’t think I still owe anyone anything, but you never know.”
“Buffoon.” Dev punched him in the shoulder, knowing his debts had all been satisfactorily settled quite some time ago.
“As you say.” Lucius rubbed his shoulder. “Let me leave a message for Julia with Baxter. God knows when they’ll be done talking.”
“I’m so glad they’re getting on, Lucius.” Dev walked beside him to the small butler’s nook to retrieve their coats. “Léonie needs a friend. Someone other than me that she knows and can trust.”
“We’ll be in town for a week, but no more,” answered Lucius. “It’s odd, but neither of us want to be gone from Gordonstone that long these days. Having a son makes life…different.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, you know.”
They shrugged into their coats and Dev penned a quick note to his wife.
“Have you heard anything from Charles and Hannah, by the way?”
“Still honeymooning, from what I understand. And trying to straighten out the Penvale estate mess. But blissful, of course.”
“Of course.” Lucius grinned. “I’m waiting to see that blissful grin on your face, my lad.”
Dev, to his annoyance, felt a slight color rise on his cheeks. “Don’t hold your breath.”
“Don’t think I’ll have to.” On those cryptic words, Lucius led his friend out to find the carriage.
*~~*~~*
Julia read the note and snorted. “Gone to one of their gentlemen’s clubs. Really.” She glanced at Léonie who was tucked up against a pillow beneath several soft blankets. A fire was burning, since the day had turned cold and rainy yet again.
“Is that normal for an afternoon?” She raised her eyebrows. “I have no idea how an English gentleman comports himself on a daily basis.”
Julia smiled. “To tell the truth, neither do I.” She told Léonie the story of her marriage to Lucius. “So you see, I’m not the best person to ask about the habits of English gentlemen. I haven’t a clue.”
They shared a laugh.
“But your Lucius is a good man.” Léonie’s voice was firm.
“He is. I’m blessed, and I thank God every day for him, and for our son.” She smiled, a soft look of contentment. “I have to add that Dev is another just like him. There are three, Lucius, Dev and Charles. You haven’t met Charles yet, since he married quite recently after some interesting adventures.”
Léonie chuckled. “These gentlemen seem to be completely in control, until it comes to the ladies in their lives.”
Julia blinked. “You know something? You’re absolutely right.”
“But you believe that Dev and now Lucius…if they put their minds to it, they can help me out? Find out who…who wants me dead?”
Julia didn’t miss the slight tremble in Léonie’s voice and reached across the linens to lay a hand on top of hers. “My dear, we can only make assumptions at this point. And that is never a good idea. Yes, you were attacked, that is without question. But we don’t know why. We certainly cannot say that it was an attempt on your life.”
“It felt like it.”Léonie grimaced.
“Can you talk about it?” Julia asked tentatively. “I have a suspicion that Dev is going to treat you like a fragile invalid for a while. He’s a man, so he can’t help it. And it’s not a bad trait to have, by any means.”
Léonie nodded and leaned back against the pillow with a sigh. “You have no idea how annoying it is though. Yes, I’m still tired, I get a damned headache more than I like and I know I’m not back to full strength yet. But you’re right. He is tiptoeing around me and sometimes I want to smack him and tell him to treat me normally. That I’m not going to break.”
“Give him time, Léonie,” grinned Julia. “It’s only been a day or so. And you’ve knocked him for a bit of a loop.”
“Yes, that painting.” She blinked. “It knocked me for a loop as well.”
“So.” Julia settled into the chair and pulled a blanket over her lap. “Tell me about your mother?”
“Ahh, Mama.” Léonie smiled and stared into the fire. “She was so beautiful, Julia. Hair as dark as midnight and with a shine that dazzled everyone. I remember when I was very little she came into my room one night, just before she had to attend some function in the Winter Palace. She wore a gown that looked as if it had been woven from starlight and such jewels, Julia.” She sighed.
“I’ve heard tales of how magnificent the Winter Palace is. I can’t begin to imagine it…”
“I visited a few times, I remember. With Mama and Papa. There were other diplomats and their families so for some occasions we would be allowed to come en famille. There would be special dishes for us children, and games set out in one of the magnificent rooms. Goodness, there were so many. It truly seemed like a palace out of a fairy tale.”
“Did you have many friends?”
“A few.” Léonie thought for a moment or two. “Several who spoke Russian, although I mixed more with the French families, it seemed. I know that at the time French had become the official language of the court, so I had to lear
n to speak it proficiently. Oh…” She smiled as a memory flashed before her eyes. “I remember being taught by an English tutor, along with several Russian children, a lot of French children and even a few Spanish speaking ones. The poor man had a dreadful time switching from one to another. But he was very good at it.”
“Do you recall his name? He must have been quite extraordinary at languages…”
“Let me think…yes, yes I remember. His name was Aubrey Wellstone.”
She stopped as soon as she spoke the words and her gaze turned to the woman sitting beside her bed. “Julia.” She whispered as she sat up.
“What?”
“Do you think that Mr. Wellstone became Aubrey Elwyn?”
“Good God.” Julia straightened too. “It could be just a coincidence…”
“It could, I suppose…”
“Wait. Dev must have a Debrett’s in his library.”
Léonie looked confused. “A what?”
“It’s a book detailing all the names, inheritances, titles, estates and so on that make up the British aristocracy. It’s quite comprehensive.” She tossed the blanket aside. “I’m going to go and see if I can find it. I’ll be back in short order.”
Léonie watched her hurry from the room and leaned back again on her pillow.
There was so much of her childhood that she had either forgotten or allowed to slip from her mind, but this conversation with Julia had brought it back as clearly as if it were yesterday.
Her Mama’s jewels. Pearls and diamonds hanging heavily from the elegant neck. What had happened to them? And all the other beautiful pieces she could remember seeing in her Mama’s room.
She looked at her bare finger and remembered that Dev had her only precious piece in safekeeping. All she had was that ring and it wasn’t one she could recall her Mama ever wearing.
Then she remembered.
Her engagement. Her Papa had given it to her when she and Hugo had announced their intention to wed at a small affair, held in one of Hugo’s family’s Consulates. It was politics. Everyone in her life seemed to have an affiliation to one or another area of international diplomacy.
Yes, her Papa had taken her aside and given her the ring, telling her it was a family heirloom and that she must take very good care to never lose it. Now that she was to wed, she could take ownership of that little piece of the Girard name and carry it with her into her new life. He said she must cherish it and never lose it because it was the key to happiness. She wasn’t sure she believed that, but in her world, outrageous statements were the norm.
And here she was, a Girard again, and with the ring in the secure hands of an English gentleman who cared nothing for diplomacy at all.
How her Mama would have stared at the twists of fate befalling her daughter.
Julia popped back into the room, breathless but holding aloft a large book and smiling at her success.
“I knew he’d have one. Every house in this part of London has one. It’s obligatory. So that they never forget who they are, where they came from and what they own.”
“Not Dev.” Léonie felt, for some reason, that such a description didn’t fit the Dev she knew.
“No,“ agreed Julia. “Not Dev.” She plopped back into her chair, pulled the blanket over her knees and rested the book on them, opening it and thumbing through the pages. “Now let’s see what we have here for Elwyn. Hmmm. Elfinney, Eltham…here we are. Elwyn.”
Léonie held her breath as Julia’s finger traced the entry for the Elwyn family tree.
“Elwyn, Michael Archibald, created a Viscount…married Jane Franchot…children…deceased, deceased…” Julia looked up. “Oh dear. They were unfortunate parents. No surviving children.”
“So the title then…?”
“Yes,” Julia nodded. “Here it is. Title passed to younger brother Aubrey, January 1805. And here…” She leaned over the pages. “Mother, Margaret Wellstone.”
“Oh my God.”
“That has to be it. Margaret Wellstone was the mother of the Viscount and his younger brother…the Aubrey Elwyn of your note.” Julia beamed at Léonie. “Well, what do you know? We girls have found a clue. All by ourselves.”
Léonie beamed back. “Tea?”
“Tea.”
Chapter Nine
Lucius and Dev parted ways at the door of the elegant Club on St. James’s street. This was no quietly informal Mitra Club, this was the establishment frequented by the highest of the Ton, up to and including His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, when the mood hit him.
At this time of day, it was in a state of genteel tranquility, and a few appropriate whispered questions elicited the information that his Grace the Earl of March was indeed enjoying a brandy in the Reading Room.
Dev nodded his thanks, blessed his father for putting him up for membership even though he seldom used it, and made his way down hushed halls to a large salon where several gentlemen were smoking cigars and availing themselves of the latest papers.
“I beg your pardon, your Grace.”
An austere white-haired gentleman moved a hand slightly and glared over the top of the page at Dev.
Then smiled. “Good God, Deverell. Haven’t seen you in an age. Where’ve you been?” He motioned to a chair and folded his paper.
“Keeping out of trouble, sir.”
“You’re too damn good-looking to stay out of trouble, lad. If you’re not in any right now, you’re not trying hard enough.”
Dev suppressed a chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind, your Grace. I’m not in trouble, but I do have a problem I’m working on and I believe you might be able to help.”
“Me? Well, of course if I can.” He leaned forward. “It’s not money, is it? Your father was a bit of a gambler in that area…”
“Oh no, sir. Nothing like that.”
The Earl sighed with relief. “In that case, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I was wondering how well you knew Lord Aubrey Elwyn?”
“Elwyn?” March scratched his chin. “Haven’t seen him in a couple of years now, I believe. But a few years ago we worked closely for a time. His brother’s estate bordered the March properties, don’t you know. When Aubrey inherited the title, we spent a bit of time together trying to sort out the muddled family settlements.” The Earl sighed. “Dreadful mess it was, too. Quite dreadful.”
“These things can certainly be a headache. I’m sure you were a great help.”
March looked at Dev. “Really?”
“Well, sir, I…”
“Never mind. Just stop with the polite nonsense. I know you better than that.”
Dev smiled, chagrined. “Yes, sir.”
“If I recall,” continued the Earl, “Aubrey had been teaching overseas. He had to come home when his brother passed. It ended up that most of the estate had to be sold or passed on to whoever was in the original will. My man of business oversaw the bulk of it. There was an entail, but that dead-ended at Cuidad Rodrigo.”
Silence fell for a moment or two. “War plays havoc on the traditions and histories of families, doesn’t it?” March stared into the fire. “Too many sons dying, too many estates falling into penury. Sad for those involved and sad for the country. In some places it’s been a death blow to local economies. A long-reaching ripple of a shot fired in a foreign land.”
Dev listened, hearing the pain in the Earl’s voice. He wasn’t sure that March had lost an heir—he didn’t think so—but it was clearly something that had hit close to home for his Grace.
“But that’s neither here nor there.” The Earl recalled himself. “Now, what do you need to know about Elwyn?”
Dev chose his words carefully. “I’m looking for a connection between the Elwyn family and mine. I recently received a note directed to Deverell House and authorized by Lord Elwyn. It surprised me because I know I’ve never met the man.”
“Hmm.” The Earl frowned. “I can’t place anything that would link Aubrey to the Deverells, or you in partic
ular.” He thought a bit more. “Hmm…” He turned to Dev. “What was your Mama’s name before her marriage?”
“She was a Wrentham, your Grace. My grandfather on that side was Palmer Wrentham, Viscount Stanton.”
“Aha.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s the connection.”
“It is?” Dev blinked.
“Old history, lad, so I doubt anyone would feel I’m betraying a confidence by telling you.”
“Telling me what?”
“Back before your Mama married, she and a young woman named Margaret FitzRoyd were bosom-bows. Are you following me so far?”
“I think so.”
“Margaret got into a spot of bother with a rake—wanted to elope with him, all that sort of silliness. You know girls.”
“Er, yes, I suppose I do. To a certain extent.” Dev knew that kind of silliness could ruin a young woman’s life.
“Fortunately, your Mama was possessed of a good deal of commonsense and a kind heart. She used both to save Margaret from a terrible mistake. It all turned out well and Margaret married James Wellstone. They had a son—Aubrey.”
“Ahhh.” The intricacies were becoming a little clearer.
“From that point on, there was a debt existing between the two families. Each woman pledged to the other that they would…what was the expression they used…” He closed his eyes for a moment…”Oh I have it. They promised aid and sanctuary to the members of each other’s family if ever the need should arise. Or something along those lines.”
“Women’s oaths carrying through the families. I’ve never heard of that before, but it makes sense.”
“Does it?”
“Yes it does, your Grace. The note recommended the bearer as someone requesting sanctuary. Those were the exact words. Along with something about rendering any future debts null and void.”
“I’ll be damned.” The Earl stared at Dev. “And did you?”
“Did I what, sir?”
“Honor the request?”
“Of course.”
“Good lad. I had to ask. Forgive the curiosity of an old man.”
“No need, sir.” Dev looked down at the floor. “However, there is something I should tell you.” He looked up again. “And for now, we must keep it between ourselves. Lord Elwyn met an unfortunate death at the hands of an unknown assailant a few days ago.”