by Sara Bennett
He believed it, Antoinette thought. He truly believed he could slide out from under the weight of his crimes and merrily carry on. She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d heard him on the subject of his own importance many times. But still his arrogant self-interest stunned her.
“I’m afraid I do not approve of criminals, my lord,” the prince answered, and now his eyes were as cold as his voice.
But Lord Appleby didn’t believe it. He tried again, his words tumbling over one another as he made his case. When he saw the negative expressions on his audience’s faces, he grew frustrated and began to curse his wife once more, heaping blame on her for his predicament.
“Why couldn’t you just accept you were of no use anymore?” he ranted. “Wives were put aside in days gone by. It was expected.”
Disconcertingly, Lady Appleby was enjoying herself hugely. She began to laugh, and the more he ranted, the more she laughed, until finally Appleby could take no more and lurched toward her, intent on violence. Prince Albert gave a sharp order, and his servants restrained Appleby. But he shook them off, panting, his graying hair tousled, glaring wildly about him.
“The letter, Appleby.”
It was Gabriel, wanting to know, needing to know. He confronted the man who’d stolen his dreams.
“Where is my mother’s letter?”
Appleby focused his gaze on Gabriel. “Young Langley,” he sneered.
“So, are you saying I am Adam’s son, after all?” Gabriel pretended his heart wasn’t pounding as he waited for an answer.
Appleby’s mouth tightened. “You’re no blood of mine, boy. I still bear the scars from your assault on me.”
“You took what didn’t belong to you, Appleby.”
“I took because I could. Your mother lied to me and your father was too weak to deal with it. If he was a stronger man, a better man, I wouldn’t have been able to take anything from him. He’s taken two women from me, and I wanted him to suffer for it, no matter how long it took.”
“My father is worth a dozen of you.” Gabriel took a step toward him. “He gave you Wexmoor Manor because he was protecting my mother. Something you wouldn’t understand. How could you understand, when you care for no one but yourself? You’re a cad, Appleby. A lying, thieving rogue who deserves to be locked up forever. You call yourself a self-made man? You’re nothing but a disgrace.”
Appleby gave a roar. He was holding his cane, gripped in white hands, and when he suddenly lifted it Antoinette thought he meant to strike Gabriel with it. Instead, suddenly, he pulled on the handle and the stalk of the cane came away, and to her horror she saw it was a rapier, thin and deadly. Before Gabriel could get out of his way, Appleby struck, his arm jerking in and out.
Antoinette screamed, and then everything turned to chaos. Prince Albert’s servants ran to restrain Appleby, wrenching the rapier from him, forcing him to his knees.
“Gabriel…” Antoinette was beside him, her hands shaking as she touched the spreading crimson stain on his side, as if seeking for a way to stop it. “Please, please, don’t die.”
Reckless adventurer he might be, but he didn’t deserve this. Antoinette knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it if he died and left her.
“Darling,” he whispered, “hold me.”
So she did, while around her people rushed and spoke in panicked tones, until a doctor came. Antoinette was led to a separate room and given sympathy and tea, but she felt disassociated from those around her. All she could picture, over and over again, was the image of her beloved, his face white, his body limp, lying on the rich royal carpet and bleeding his life away.
Chapter 33
Cecilia Dupre hugged her sister close, bending her golden head so that she could rest it on the shorter Antoinette’s shoulder. “When you weren’t at Lord Appleby’s house I was so worried. I asked him, but all he’d say was that you’d gone to stay with friends. He was lying, and I couldn’t find you.”
“It’s over now,” Antoinette soothed. “I’m here and you’re safe.”
Cecilia stepped back. “Would he really have married you and locked you up, Nette? Just for your money?”
“Yes, he would have, Cecy.”
“I’m never going to marry!” Cecilia declared.
Antoinette reached out to hug her and stroke her hair. “You will. Not many men are like Lord Appleby. Most of them are fine and good. I promise you, Cecy, you’ll find a man to love.”
Cecilia lifted her face, tears staining her cheeks. “And you, Nette? What about you?”
Antoinette forced herself to smile. “Never mind me, Cecy. I have Dupre House and you to look after. When would I have the time to marry? Hush, don’t cry, everything is back to normal now, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.”
Sir Adam Langley held the letter in his hands, staring at his wife in disbelief. “They found it?”
“At his bank, my love. Aphrodite arranged for it to be given back to us. She has a great many friends, it seems.”
His wife had never been jealous of Aphrodite; that was one of the things he loved about her. She knew Adam loved her and it was enough; his past was just that. And until recently her past had been a secret, too.
“Do you want to read it again?”
Adam shook his head. “No, I don’t want to read it again. I want to know why you wrote it. I believed everything between you and Appleby was over long ago.”
“It is over.”
Adam hung his head. He looked ill; the last few months had taken their toll. “Is it?”
She reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly. “Adam, how can you doubt me?”
“Have I been a proper husband to you and a good father to our children?”
“Yes! I’ve never regretted marrying you, never. I was so proud of you and our children, foolishly so perhaps, because when I saw Rudyard’s name in the newspapers, I wanted him to know it. I’m sorry. I never thought he’d do such a thing, or believe Gabriel was his son. Rudyard’s changed, Adam.”
Adam’s mouth twisted in a faint smile. “You always did believe the best in people.”
“I believe the best in you,” she whispered, her eyes full of tears. “You know Gabriel is your son, don’t you? In your heart you must know?”
He sighed. “Yes, I think so. But it has been difficult to conquer the doubt. When he was young, I tried to believe, I really did, but…My father saw my difficulty and stepped in, giving Gabriel the childhood I should have done.”
“Because he loved you. We all love you, Adam.” She shook her head. “Do you really think Gabriel would have done what he did if he was Appleby’s son? He is a Langley through and through, brave and strong and loyal.”
Adam reached out to the letter on the table in front of him.
“Adam?” his wife whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he groaned, “so sorry. I’ve been a selfish fool. When Appleby showed me that letter, I thought you must have written it because you regretted leaving him. I—”
“Hush.” Again she put her hand over his. “Adam, marrying you was the best thing I ever did. I can never regret it.”
He lifted her hand to his and pressed his lips fervently to her fingers.
“Now,” his wife said firmly, “are you going to burn that wretched thing before it gets us into any more trouble?”
“Yes.”
They watched the pages catch alight in the hearth, curling and turning to ash. Soon there was nothing left to see. Sir Adam Langley and his wife sat and stared contentedly into the flames.
“You look rather well for someone who was supposed to be at death’s door.”
Gabriel opened his eyes and smiled. “Marietta.”
“The same.” His half sister sat down beside him on the garden seat, her fair hair dazzling in the sunshine. She was a beautiful woman, and a happy marriage had only enhanced her looks.
“Thank you,” she said now, “for saving the club. Aphrodite would be lost without it.”
/> “I don’t think I did anything much,” he said wryly, “except make a fool of myself.”
“Nonsense. By all accounts you were extremely brave. They’re even saying you stepped in front of Prince Albert to receive the wound meant for him.”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Good heavens, are they? I almost feel sorry for Appleby. He probably imagined he’d garner some sympathy, and now he’s a would-be assassin.”
“Sorry for Appleby!”
“I said ‘almost.’”
“I suppose you’ll be returning to Wexmoor Manor in darkest Devon, will you? I’m surprised to find you still in London.”
“Madame has been very kind to me while I recovered from my wound.”
“She’s overjoyed to have the club reopening again. She says the refurbishments will be finished by the end of the week. I think”—and she twinkled at Gabriel—“she’s planning a little thank-you supper for you and your friend Miss Dupre.”
Gabriel groaned and closed his eyes. “Not matchmaking.”
“Why not? I heard you were fond of her.”
“If there’s wooing to be done, I’ll do my own.”
Marietta searched his face, suddenly serious. “Has Miss Dupre been back to see you since she returned to Surrey?”
“No. She did wait until the doctors declared me out of danger before she left. She wrote to me, however. A brief, one-page letter wishing me well. It sounded like a good-bye to me.”
“And you’re not going to accept that, are you, Gabriel?” Marietta said with a smile.
“Certainly not. I am planning to marry her.”
And for once Marietta was speechless.
Chapter 34
The invitation had arrived last week, engraved in gold print with intricate curls about the borders. Antoinette opened it at the breakfast table and sat staring at the wording for so long that her sister grew tired of asking her what it said, and eventually came and stood behind her and read it for herself.
Madame Aphrodite requests Miss Antoinette Dupre attend an exclusive supper to celebrate the reopening of Aphrodite’s Club.
There was also a note with it from Aphrodite, assuring her that the select gathering would be for friends only, and none of her girls would be present. It was a thank-you gift from Aphrodite to her friends, and she counted Antoinette as one of her very best friends.
“Are you going?” Cecilia asked. “You should go, Nette.”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel would be there. She had stayed away from him once she knew he was going to be all right, after Lord Appleby’s attack. She hadn’t wanted to go, but he had his family about him and he didn’t need her. Best to cut herself off, she’d decided, and to return to her own life. There would be nothing worse than hanging about him and wearing out her welcome.
But now it seemed churlish to deny Aphrodite, who had been such a good friend to her. And surely there’d be plenty of other guests there. She could mingle in the crowd and stay well away from Gabriel. A quick hello and a smile and then it would be over.
He’d probably forgotten her anyway.
For Cecilia’s benefit she forced a smile. She seemed to be forcing herself to smile a great deal these days. “I don’t know if I need to go, Cecy.”
“Yes, Nette, you do. You must go. I will be perfectly all right. You mustn’t worry about me.”
“Of course I don’t worry about you.”
But she did, and Cecilia knew it.
“Please go, Nette. I’ll never forgive myself if you don’t. We will all be waiting for you when you come back; it’s not as if anything will change here. Nothing ever changes,” she added, with a dissatisfied grimace.
“Do you miss Mayfair then?” Antoinette teased.
“No. Yes. I suppose I do, in a way. Sometimes it is very quiet here, Nette.”
Cecilia was growing up. Soon she would want to fly the nest, meet people, live her own life. Antoinette would be alone, her life constant and unchanging. Now why did that depress her?
“I will go,” she said, making a sudden decision. And once she said she would, there was no turning back.
London hadn’t changed; it was just as noisy and busy and smelly as ever. She took a room at one of the finer hotels and arrived at Aphrodite’s Club the afternoon of the supper, as requested.
Aphrodite met her at the door and hugged her.
“I am so happy to see you, Antoinette! Look, you see we have made changes.”
Antoinette laughed and hugged her back. “I see you have a new door, Madame. The last time I was here it was hanging by a thread.”
“Huh, Lord Appleby has much to answer for. Well, he is locked away now.”
“And Lady Appleby? I have not heard much of what happened after…afterward.”
“Didn’t Gabriel tell you all the news, my dear?”
“I have not seen him, Madame. I have been at home in Surrey.”
“Lady Appleby was living in the Mayfair house but she will probably have to sell it, to pay her husband’s debts. Life is unfair, oui?”
“Very unfair. Love is unfair, Madame.” Antoinette wondered where that had come from; it seemed Aphrodite was having her usual effect.
The courtesan sighed and shook her head at Antoinette, as if she were a hundred and Antoinette still a child. Perhaps, to a woman of her experience, that was how it seemed.
“Antoinette, does love frighten you? That is no way to be. You must seize life and hold on to it tightly, not hide away from it.”
“Well, I have seized it, and I am here.” Antoinette changed the subject before she could be further lectured to. “You asked for me to come early. What was it you wanted me to do, Madame?”
Aphrodite laughed. “Come, you will see.”
“I don’t like surprises,” Antoinette said quickly.
“You will like this one,” Aphrodite assured her, slipping her arm through Antoinette’s, and leading her across the foyer.
Antoinette was beginning to wonder whether she had stepped into a dream. There was a modiste named Elena, whom Aphrodite called her oldest friend, and the two of them fussed about her and circled her, studying her figure and discussing her as if she wasn’t there.
Antoinette shopped in London when she could, but most of her clothes were made by a seamstress in the village. She was happy with the arrangement, but Aphrodite was unimpressed by such provincial ways.
“A woman of your looks, Antoinette, should have only the best fabrics and styles.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Antoinette said, bewildered.
“You will see,” the courtesan promised.
Elena was a little woman with a stern face and gray hair. “Yes, you are right, as always, Aphrodite,” she said, ignoring Antoinette for the moment. “We will dress her in the white gown.”
It was spoken so reverently, as if in capital letters. The White Gown.
“I don’t understand.” Antoinette looked between the two of them. She had the suddenly frightening thought that if she allowed them to dress her and change her, then she would be entering a glittering sensual world, a dangerous world, and there could be no going back. Nothing would ever be the same again.
As if she’d read her mind, Aphrodite touched her cheek and smiled. “Come, what can it hurt? It is one night, that is all. Indulge me, please. After, you can go back to your little house in the countryside.”
“Do you always get your own way, Madame?” Antoinette asked wryly.
“Always!”
That was when Elena produced the white gown, and Antoinette understood their reverence.
Of the finest silk, it was low-cut at the bodice, tight at the waist, and flared out into soft folds and flounces over the hips. It was a dress for a fairy tale, and fairy tales frightened Antoinette.
She backed away. “No, really, I can’t wear something like that. I—I would feel too—too exposed…”
“Psht, my dear. We are your friends. Why should you not show yourself off a
little? I promise you will look beautiful. Gabriel will be speechless.”
Gabriel, the one name she’d sworn not to think of. She opened her mouth again to refuse, but instead found herself reaching out to touch the white gown with her fingertips. So soft, so smooth, so beautiful. It glowed like moonlight. What would he think of her in such a dress? Would he regret, even for a moment, that he had let her go so easily?
“Try it on,” Elena tempted her, “and if you don’t like it you need not wear it.”
Antoinette didn’t remember saying yes, but the next moment her clothing was being removed from her despite her protests and the white gown was drawn carefully over her head. The miles and miles of silk floated about her, slipping into place with such breathtaking ease that it was as if the dress had been made for her and her alone.
At last the two women stood back to inspect her, and their faces lit up with smiles. “Perfect,” Aphrodite said. “Absolutely perfect.”
“This is too generous of you, Madame. I can’t—”
“Nonsense. I am bored and this is a diversion.”
“Aphrodite, let the child look at herself,” Elena scolded, and, taking Antoinette’s hand, led her toward the end of the room, where a standing mirror had been turned to the wall. Elena pivoted it toward them with a flourish, and suddenly there Antoinette was, reflected and revealed.
She didn’t think it was another woman; she wasn’t that simple. It was definitely Antoinette Dupre. But it was the new Antoinette, the one she had heard in her head but had never actually seen before in the flesh. The silk clung to her curves, draped low on her rounded bosom, and complimented her little waist, before caressing the flare of her hips. And with so many folds and gathers, the silk, fine as it was, was not transparent.
Well, not quite. There was a flash here and there of naked flesh, but Antoinette hoped no one would notice in the dimly lit salon.