by Sandra Heath
“I am sure they are as capable of crossing the Channel as you are, Sir Henry.”
“But why would they bother?”
“We can fence like this forever, Sir Henry, but in the end it will come to the same. You will be in danger because of the Bonapartists’ avowed intent of killing the Duke of Wellington, and that killing could quite easily take place here in London, couldn’t it?”
He smiled a little, resting his hand against her cheek for a moment. “You are too clever by half, Caro Lexham. But one thing I ask of you.”
“What is it?”
“That you do not let my sister realize anything.”
“You wrong me to think that I ever would, Sir Henry.”
He nodded. “Yes, perhaps I do, and for that you must forgive me.”
“When does the duke come to London?”
He smiled a little ruefully then. “He sails for Dover before dawn today.”
Her eyes widened. “Sir Henry? You will take care ...”
How lame the words sounded, but they were all she could think of. He had not discounted what she had said about the Bonapartists crossing the Channel, which to her meant that it was indeed what he expected to happen. He would be in danger, and that danger was imminent. She was afraid for him, more afraid than she could ever begin to tell without conveying the truth of how much she loved him.
He took her hand. “My dearest Caro, I think you may count upon me doing my very best to preserve my elegant hide. I must leave you now, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your concern about my sister. It gladdens me to know that I may count upon you to do all you can to set her mind at ease. She is very dear to me and I do not wish to cause her any unhappiness, especially at this time.”
She knew suddenly that he did not want her ever to mention the matter again. “I promise to do what I can, Sir Henry.” Because I love you. The sentence was completed only in her thoughts.
Slowly he turned her palm to his lips. “I am glad that this Friday the thirteenth was not an unlucky day for you, Caro Lexham. Good night.”
“Good night, Sir Henry.”
When he had gone, she sat down, gazing into the glowing heart of the fire. Her gray eyes were luminous in the half-light. Tonight he had trusted her; he had admitted more to her than he had to Jennifer, or even to Marcia. A ghost of a smile played upon her lips. He may once have thought badly of her, but he did not do so now, she knew that beyond a doubt.
Chapter 21
At breakfast the next morning, Caroline had her first opportunity to carry out her word to Hal about soothing Jennifer’s worries. The few guests who had already taken rooms at the hotel had not stirred when Jennifer came down to take breakfast alone with Caroline in her private apartment. The future Lady Carstairs looked particularly fresh and pretty in a cream muslin morning gown, with lace at her throat and cuffs and a crimson sash at her waist. At first she was determined to set aside the anxieties of the previous day and talk instead about the dinner party at Lord Fynehurst’s.
Pouring herself some more coffee, she grinned impishly. “There was one moment last night which I would not have missed for the world.”
“And what moment was that?”
“When Hal announced that he was coming back here to see that you were all right. You should have seen Marcia’s face! She was absolutely furious! I do believe she was jealous.”
“I assure you she has no cause,” said Caroline hastily, coloring a little.
“What a pity.”
“How unkind you are.”
“She’s horrid and I wish with all my heart that Hal would see her for what she is. She may soon be my sister-in-law, but I will never like her, and I will never forgive her for what she has done to you, Caroline. First there was that dreadful business at the Oxenford, and then yesterday that imaginary rat! Really, it was too bad of her.”
One of the footmen came in with a tray upon which lay the morning newspaper and a letter for Caroline. The letter was from Richard Marchand, but before Caroline could break the seal she heard Jennifer’s gasp of dismay.
“What is it?” she asked quickly, seeing how pale Jennifer’s face had gone.
“The newspaper—”
Caroline looked at it where it lay upon the snowy tablecloth, and she saw immediately what had upset Jennifer. The headlines announced further intelligence about the attempt on the life of the Duke of Wellington.
“Will you read it, Caroline? I don’t think I could bear to.”
Caroline picked the newspaper up and glanced swiftly at the relevant columns. “It says that the Paris police have made several arrests, although they have not caught the actual assassin yet. The man they seek is said to be a man of extraordinary strength and ferocious temper, and they believe they are well on his trail and will soon have him successfully under lock and key.”
“He sounds perfectly horrible.”
“He does rather.” Caroline smiled lightly, setting the newspaper aside.
“I dread to think of Hal being involved with such men.”
“This fellow is in France, not England, and Sir Henry told you that he was not in any danger. You must believe him.”
Jennifer’s eyes were very large. “Do you believe him, Caroline?’’
“Yes, of course I do. Now then, drink your coffee before it gets cold, and don’t think anything more about the wretched newspaper.”
For a moment Jennifer seemed inclined to continue with the subject, but then she smiled. “You are right. I must be more sensible. Who is your letter from?”
“My cousin.”
“The earl?” Jennifer was taken aback.
“No, my Selford cousin.”
“The one who wishes to marry you?”
“Yes.” Caroline broke the seal and read the rather brief communication.
“Is it bad news?”
“No, not exactly. He merely says that he intends to visit me soon.”
“You do not look very pleased. Is he disagreeable?”
Caroline smiled. “No, he isn’t disagreeable; he just doesn’t understand, that’s all.”
“Well, to do him justice, I suppose any country squire would find it difficult to understand a woman who on the spur of a moment decided to turn her back on all she had ever known and set up in business in London as mistress of a hotel!
“The only kind of man who would understand that kind of spirit would be a man from London society, someone like Charles, or Hal. They are not narrow in their outlook, they admire a woman who shows she is not merely a cipher, and they accept that she has as much right as they to her opinions and dreams. Hal is right about you, Caroline, you could never be happy in a place like Selford, and you would be wretched and miserable if you made the mistake of marrying Mr. Marchand. London is where you belong, where you should have been all along.”
Jennifer smiled then. “There, was that not a profound and instructive speech?”
“It was indeed.”
“You see? I am not always a scatterbrained creature.”
“No, you are the dearest, kindest, and most loyal friend I have ever had, Jennifer Seymour, and I love you as much as I would a sister.”
“That is how I feel about you, Caroline Lexham, and it gives me great pleasure to be able to say that, because I have never said it before in my life. Oh, I’ve had many friends, but no one to whom I have felt so instantly close. It’s funny, but I feel as if I’ve known you all my life, and yet it has been such a very short time. Goodness! Is that the time? I should have been at my couturière five minutes ago!”
Caroline couldn’t help laughing. “So, the time for profundity is past, and the scatterbrain is to the fore once again!”
“You, Caroline Lexham, are a positive beast!” Jennifer laughed as she got up.
Caroline settled back to enjoy a final, cup of coffee before she too would have to attend to her daily tasks; it would be so different today, because this was the hotel’s first real day.
The foot
man returned and she looked up. “Yes? What is it?”
“Lady Chaddington has called, madam, and she wishes to see you.”
Caroline’s heart sank. “Very well, please show her in here.”
Marcia entered, the ostrich plume in her hat trembling and the fur-trimmed hem of her elegant pelisse swinging. She was clad entirely in virginal white and her hands were thrust deep into a muff. She looked as breathtakingly lovely as ever, and as brittle.
She halted, surveying Caroline, an expression of disdain on her face. “Oh dear, the turquoise lawn again. How very repetitive.”
“You wished to see me, Lady Chaddington?”
“No, I do not wish to see you; in fact the very opposite is the case. However, since you have chosen to defy me, I find this disagreeable visit forced upon me. I am not well pleased with you, Miss Lexham, but I am a civilized person, and so I shall endeavor to rid myself of you in a civilized way.”
“You surprise me,” replied Caroline. “I did not think there was anything civilized about imagined rats.”
Marcia flushed angrily, but refused to be drawn. She glanced around the room. “You have indeed begun to do well for yourself, haven’t you? Some say this house is the prettiest in London, which would make you very fortunate indeed if you managed to keep your country claws upon it.”
“Why did you come here?”
“To make you an offer you would be foolish to refuse.”
“I don’t think I wish to hear—”
“I am capable of destroying you, Miss Lexham, you may count upon that. But such a course would maybe take a little time, time during which I would be irritated by your continued presence. You may think you are set to succeed here, but it will all come to nought. I will see that it does. I will wreck Jennifer Seymour’s wedding, Miss Lexham, and that is no mere threat, it is a promise.”
Caroline stared at her. “But she is to be your sister-in-law! How could you think of doing such a thing?”
“It is Hal Seymour I shall be marrying, my dear, not his vapid little sister. Now then, we can all be spared any unpleasantness if you cut your losses now and accept a substantial sum of money from me before leaving Town forever.”
Caroline was trembling. “I refuse your offer, Lady Chaddington.”
“What a fool you are.”
“Please leave, my lady, and take your ‘civilized’ methods with you.”
Marcia’s lip curled with anger. “Your days of glory in this house are numbered, just as are the days when you may count upon a courteous word from Hal Seymour and his sister. Soon you will not even receive a nod from them, they will cut you, as will all London society. You and your high-flying plans are about to take a tumble, Miss Lexham, and I shall take supreme delight in being the instrument of your downfall.
“You’ve given yourself airs and graces, queening it in this great house, glorying in your important friends. You think you are very grand, don’t you? Well, you are nothing at all, as you will shortly discover to your cost. I will not cease until I have trodden you into the ground, and even then I may not relent.”
With this, she turned and walked from the room, leaving the door open so that Caroline heard her light steps crossing the tiled floor of the vestibule. The outer door closed and a moment later came the sound of a carriage moving away across the cobbled courtyard.
Still trembling, Caroline rose from her chair and went to look out of the window. She saw Marcia’s carriage leaving beneath the pedimented gateway into Mayfair Street. She had meant every word of her threat; she would indeed try to destroy Jennifer’s wedding. But how? What would she do? And should Jennifer be warned? No, no, that would not do at all, for it would cause her too much distress. This was something Caroline had to face alone.
It was an hour or so later that an anxious Mrs. Hollingsworth came looking for her. Thoughts of Marcia came immediately to the fore. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid there might be. A gentleman from Gunter’s has called and says he must speak urgently with you.”
“Did he say why he called?”
“He said that there had been a regrettable oversight of which you must be told immediately.”
The wedding, it could only be the wedding! Slowly Caroline went into the vestibule, her turquoise skirts rustling and her little shoes making hardly a sound.
The gentleman from Gunter’s was perched nervously on the edge of one of the sofas, turning his hat in his hands. He was plump and balding and did not look happy in his almost formal coat and pantaloons. He leaped to his feet as she approached, and she knew that he was loathing every moment of his unwelcome errand.
“M-miss Lexham?”
“Sir.”
“My n-name is Johnson, Archibald Johnson, and I am here on behalf of Messieurs Gunter.”
“What may I do for you, Mr. Johnson?”
“I f-fear that I am the bearer of unfortunate t-tidings.”
She waited, but she knew already what he was going to say.
“There has b-been a m-most dreadful and regrettable oversight, M-miss Lexham, and I fear that w-we will not after all be able to cater for Miss Seymour’s nuptials.”
It was what she had feared, but even so it came as a dreadful shock. She paused for a moment, steadying herself. “May I ask why, sir?”
“A p-prior booking.” He looked thoroughly wretched.
“Indeed? What booking?”
“I’m afraid th-that I am n-not at liberty to divulge—”
“Whose booking, sir? I demand to know, and I believe I have the right to know.”
“Lord and Lady Stapleton.”
She looked away. Their daughter, the Honorable Georgiana Stapleton, was soon to be betrothed to Marcia’s brother, Lord Fynehurst. “Mr. Johnson,” she said at last, “I put it to you that this other booking is fictitious, or at the very least has been made since you were approached concerning Miss Seymour’s wedding.”
“Oh, no, Miss L-Lexham!”
“But yes, Mr. Johnson, and you know it as well as I do, which is why you are so uncomfortable about the whole thing!”
“The other booking was overlooked.”
“You, sir, are fibbing.”
“Miss Lexham!” he protested, “I swear—”
“You are not telling the truth, sir, but there is little I can do about it, is there?”
He fell silent.
“I find it quite intolerable that a firm of such standing should lend itself to such petty and disgraceful vindictiveness and be party to something which injures an innocent person. I promise you that this hotel will never again patronize you. Good day, Mr. Johnson.”
“Miss Lexham—”
“Good day, sir!”
Without another word he almost scuttled to the door, escaping gladly from the justified accusation in her gray eyes. But the moment he had gone, Caroline’s bravado deserted her and she turned helplessly to Mrs. Hollingsworth. “What am I to do? What can I say to Miss Seymour?”
The housekeeper put a gentle but firm hand on her arm. “Don’t despair yet, Miss Lexham, for there is another caterer who may be able to help.”
“Who?”
“Messieurs Owen of Bond Street.”
“We will go there immediately, for I must engage someone!” But even as she spoke, she knew that Mrs. Hollingsworth’s suggestion offered little hope. Marcia’s hand lay behind Gunter’s defection, and she would not have left any obvious loophole; she was too thorough and too clever for that.
Chapter 22
At Messieurs Owen it was immediately obvious to Caroline that Marcia had been at work. The prinked young gentleman who dealt with them had that same rather uncomfortable look worn earlier by the hapless Mr. Johnson, although he brazened things out a little more successfully than had the representative from Messieurs Gunter. The end result was the same, however, and that was that Caroline and the Lexham Hotel were still without a fashionable caterer to do Jennifer’s wedding feast, and as she and Mrs. Hollingsworth eme
rged onto Bond Street, her spirits were very low indeed.
She had reached an impasse that would leave Marcia—and through her, Dominic—the victor, for failure to cater satisfactorily for the wedding would mean the collapse of society’s faith in the new venture; she knew this as surely as she knew night followed day. She would lose Lexham House because she would not be able to meet the terms of her uncle’s will after all. This she could have borne, for she had come to London with nothing, and she would leave in the same way, but she could not so easily bear having failed Jennifer, whose warm friendship she valued so very much.
Tears stung her eyes as she and Mrs. Hollingsworth walked south along Bond Street toward Piccadilly. The housekeeper walked in silent sympathy, knowing the thoughts going through the other’s bowed head and sharing the agony of despair at what seemed inevitable disaster.
It was Mrs. Hollingsworth who saw the group of fashionable young gentlemen standing by a handsome landau drawn up at the curb; recognizing one of them, she put a warning hand on Caroline’s arm. “Miss Lexham, your cousin the earl is over there.”
As she spoke, Dominic turned and saw them. For a dreadful moment the two Lexham cousins looked at each other, and then, unbelievably, a warm smile curved his fine lips. Bowing a little to his surprised companions, he left them and approached the two women. He looked very elegant indeed, clad in a dark gray coat and beige trousers, his honey-colored hair very bright in the March sunlight as he removed his tall hat and sketched a very handsome bow to them.
“Good morning, cousin.”
Caroline stiffened, very much on her guard at this unexpected and rather doubtful transformation. “Good morning, my lord.”
His gray eyes bore an expression that seemed contrite. “I am glad that I have encountered you, cousin, for now I may attempt to make amends for my odious and unworthy conduct.”
She could not trust him. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other, sir.”
“Please, can you not take pity upon this poor penitent? Beneath this coat I assure you I wear a hair shirt of the most tortuous nature.” He smiled a little.