The House in Grosvenor Square: A Novel of Regency England (The Regency Trilogy Book 2)

by Linore Rose Burkard

  “Madame—I must go.” The ladies walked to the front door, Mrs. Bentley suddenly in a great hurry, and Madame La Croix accompanying her, with a little, curious smile.

  Mrs. Bentley received her things from the butler and hurried out the front door. Behind her, she heard, “Bon jour, madame! I thank you for stopping!”

  Thank her for stopping, indeed! She halted, and turned to give her hostess a knowing stare. “Before you rush out with your tale, madame,” she said, in a warning tone, “recall that it is the Paragon you may slander. And when you have been proved wrong, you will appear foolish, indeed. Not to mention you may get a public set down!” These words did seem to have an effect on the lady, as her little smile vanished at the thought.

  Dusk was approaching. She resumed her hurried pace toward home as fast as her aging feet could carry her. Elopement, indeed!

  She was still blustering to herself when she arrived home, and crosser than ever for stepping foot into madame’s French dwelling. I went like a lamb to the slaughter! But make no mistake, she thought grimly, I will find out exactly what is underfoot with Mornay and my niece, and if I am not perfectly satisfied, I will want them to elope! Perhaps I ought to have encouraged madame to believe that’s what happened. It would mean they are married, that no impropriety has occurred. Better an elopement than a scandal.

  .

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As Ariana and Mr. Mornay stepped from the coach in front of his house, she said for the second time, “I would rather return to my aunt’s.”

  “You will on no account allow servants to intimidate you. I am with you now, and there is nothing for you to dread. On the contrary, if I have to give the boot to the whole lot of ‘em to keep you comfortable and happy, I will do so.”

  “Really?”

  Mr. Mornay hesitated. “Except for Fotch.”

  “Really?”

  “And Freddy, of course.”

  “Freddy! Hmmph!”

  He searched the street for sign of any ruffians but saw only a lamplighter working his way alone, leaving small dots of fuzzy lights behind him. He hurried her to the door.

  “Does Freddy vex you? I had the impression he was fond of you.”

  “Until this morning, I was rather fond of him,” she replied.

  His eyes narrowed. “Come, we’ll get to the bottom of this right now.”

  “I realize we must do this, but I am frantic to hear word of Miss Herley!”

  Inside the hall Mr. Mornay eyed Freddy with a little extra attention. What on earth could have caused him to mistreat Ariana? Frederick knew immediately that his master knew all, and his mouth was set in a little, apologetic frown that he could not help. He felt guilty, if truth be told, but what could be expected of a man who was very like to find himself shortly on the street?

  “I’ll see you in my study shortly, Freddy.”

  “Yes, sir.” Now he’d get it! And then he’d give it! Why hadn’t Mr. Mornay given notice to his staff? On what pretext was Miss Forsythe to base their dismissal? What provisions would the master supply for them between situations? Yes, he, too, had questions.

  Madame La Croix spent some time considering whether or not to spread word of a possible elopement of Mornay and his young bride-to-be. Despite anything Mrs. Bentley said in her objections, she kept returning to the fact that Miss Forsythe had been taken to Grosvenor Square before the wedding. It was simply too improper to the English to expect that the couple had any other respectable alternative! That was her case.

  She called her man-servant, Bouffant. “Prepare the carriage.” She went to her toilette and with her lady’s maid, prepared herself. Even at her age madame was still a willowy figure and could wear an evening gown to good effect. Moreover, she believed that a lady on a mission did not go forth in shabby attire. Besides, her affluence tended to lend credence to her gossip, though being French was a detraction because their countries were at war.

  She started off in early evening, therefore, dressed in rich silk, satin, and lace. Her companion, Clarisse, was at her side.

  “Any messages?” Mr. Mornay asked as Freddy received his hat, coat and gloves, and then Miss Forsythe’s articles. Ariana waited to hear the servant’s answer with trepidation. Had Miss Herley been recovered?

  “Mrs. Bentley called while you were out.”

  They both looked on with interest.

  “Did she say what her errand was?” Ariana was unable to contain her curiosity. Servants could be so slow to impart news.

  “She asked for you, ma’am; she said that it is believed Miss Herley is safe—”

  “Oh, thank God!” Ariana touched Phillip’s arm, and he quickly put a hand upon hers.

  Excellent!” he murmured. “Is Miss Herley returned to her home, then?”

  “She didn’t say, sir.”

  “Was there anything else?”

  “That a Lord Antoine has been taken into custody—temporarily to Newgate.”

  “Lord Antoine!” Ariana gasped. “My goodness! You were so right to warn the Herley’s against him! And to think that Lavinia hoped to marry him, when all along he was indeed an errant knave!”

  Mr. Mornay nodded. “I’m glad to learn of it. I was beginning to think I had spoiled a love-match.”

  “Evidently not!” she said, indignant at the thought of what a scoundrel the man was to have abducted Lavinia, who had cared for him.

  “Mrs. Bentley also wished to inform you, sir, that she wants her niece ‘returned to Hanover Square, directly.’” He paused and added, “She was most decided upon that point.”

  “You see?” Ariana said. “I must go home.”

  “You’ve slept here already. It no longer signifies if you do so again. Your aunt is welcome to join you, but I am determined to keep you here. It is safest for you and that’s all there is to it.”

  They awaited a small supper in the second parlour because the dining room was still in disarray, and the morning room did not offer comfort enough for their tired bodies. A sole footman stood against a wall.

  Ariana turned to her beloved and snuggled into his arms. “I am so relieved that Lavinia is safe.”

  “Of course you are,” he said. He reveled in the embrace, but then gently extricated himself, just as a maid came in and added to the fire, and left again. Ariana went back against him, pressing herself into his chest. “I do feel safe here, and I am with you!” She snuggled her head against him and was very happy, but he pulled her away. After stroking her hair once and then the side of her face, he got up and went to a wing chair, where he sat down tiredly.

  She looked after him thoughtfully. He felt her gaze and said, “After we get some nourishment in us, I think it will be high time for both of us to get some sleep.” He rubbed his eyes wearily, and for the first time it occurred to Ariana that he might not have slept for near two days.

  “Did you get any sleep this morning after we arrived?”

  He met her eyes. “ʼTis of no consequence. I’ll make up for it tonight, I’m certain.”

  “You’ve been up since yesterday morning! You spent all of last night searching for me, and rescuing me! And now you’ve been out all day on my account!”

  “Not entirely. I went out to try and find your friend.”

  “And then you had to fetch me from the O’Briensʼ, and now the whole day has passed and you have had no opportunity to rest at all!”

  He gave a little smile. “Am I getting a set-down for my trouble?”

  Her eyes melted. “I am sorry for it, that’s all.” She began towards him, but there was a sound at the door, and then Freddy was there.

  “I have a note by special messenger—from the Regent, sir.”

  When Madame LaCroix set out from her house with her companion, she chose to stop first at a soiree where she spoke to a few choice characters of a rumour she had heard, and then left the house. Afterward she stopped at a ball she would have happily ignored but needed to drop a few words—of only a suspicion she had heard,
of course, she had no proof—into the right ears. She used her box at Covent Garden—madame was popular—to tell everyone who dropped in of the outrageous report (which just could not be true, she was certain!) she had heard at the soiree and then at the ball. By the time she was back in her own house near eleven o’clock—an early night, but an effective one—she knew her on-dit was secure. Ah, now she could sleep well.

  The news of the Paragon’s elopement with Miss Forsythe was such a delicacy that the bon ton shared it all across London. Such a stir of excitement in ballrooms across the West End! So many disapproving clucks of the tongue from ladies of upright character. Such a flurry of moving carriages and comings and goings, so that the roads were crowded all evening instead of only during the usual busy hours. Messengers delivered hastily written notes to friends and acquaintances, and, as was inevitable with such a thing, word reached Carlton House. The Regent was regaled with the news by his mistress, Lady Hertford, who had just had it from a most trusted source.

  Mrs. Bentley remained home this night, recovering from the undue excitement and nervous strain she’d endured since Ariana’s first brush with danger. A flurry of messages did arrive at her residence, but Haines put them on her desk for another time, as ordered. The mistress needed to sleep, and had even taken that dose of laudanum the doctor had suggested. She wanted no interruptions unless it was Ariana herself come home.

  Freddy entered the parlour and handed the note from the Regent to his master, who opened it and asked, “Is the man waiting for a reply?”

  “He waits for you to accompany him to Carlton House, sir.”

  “What, now?” came the startled reply.

  “Indeed, sir.” The servant’s tone said that he agreed the summons was a nuisance.

  Mornay read the contents quickly, while Ariana waited, frowning.

  “Thank you, Freddy. Tell the man I’ll come shortly.”

  After he’d gone, Ariana asked, “You will go with him, then? To Carlton House?”

  “Prinny seems to require my presence, though I can’t imagine what for.”

  She shook her head. “Can you not send a note in return? You are not fit to go, sir.”

  This made him raise his head. He thought for a moment. “I’ll have to go, I’m afraid.” But he frowned. “I don’t like to leave you, again.”

  “I am not disturbed by that,” she replied. “But I suppose I should return to my aunt, as she wished.”

  “That’s out of the question,” he interjected, sharply.

  She said shyly, “Phillip, I am still without a proper chaperon. Lavinia could not come. This won’t do at all. Think of the talk.”

  At that moment the servants arrived with their meal. They put down a white linen cloth and place settings. The food arrived in covers, and glasses were filled. Ariana just watched her beloved, waiting to speak privately once more. When they’d gone, she sat across from him, but the table wasn’t meant for eating at, and the height was awkward.

  “Do as I do,” he said, and he sat down on the carpet. She giggled, but went and sat beside him rather than across from him.

  “Shall I say the blessing?” she asked.

  “By all means. In future, I will.” She was so pleased she could have kissed him, but remembered how he had pushed her away from him earlier. She had been thoughtless then. She needed to help him maintain propriety—even if she was staying in his house against all reason.

  She said a short prayer. The food was excellent though she could scarcely give heed to it, being more concerned with the man beside her than what was on her plate. He was too tired for conversation, she knew, so she contented herself just to be with him, to eat with him and get to look at him as much as she liked until he had to leave to see the prince. They were comfortable together despite the silence between them. Even this brought her contentment.

  The candelabra on the table threw comfortable shadows around the room, and she wished suddenly that they were married already. She thought she understood exactly how he must feel at times.

  Just then he said, “Are you aware that you’ve been staring at me since we sat down?”

  She smiled. “Yes, and I’m quite enjoying the view, thank you.”

  His face froze for a moment.

  “Have I shocked you?” she asked.

  “You little minx!” he finally said. “Are you trying to drive me mad? Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to say such things?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Their eyes met. He leaned his head down again but heard a sound at the door, and pulled abruptly away.

  Sir, the prince’s man says the horses are restless.”

  “Yes, thank you, Freddy. Send Fotch to me directly.”

  “He awaits you, sir, in your dressing room.”

  “Very good.” When the butler left, he and Ariana surveyed each other again. “I will have your maids sent to your chamber if they’re not already there, and I want two men at your door. I hope I don’t have to say that you are not to leave the house.”

  “No, you do not.” She could not stop staring at him adoringly.

  “I’m afraid I must tell you to stop looking at me like that, or—or—I will forget myself entirely.”

  The prince’s liveried messenger waited, holding the reins of two horses. Mr. Mornay came out in fresh attire, and only someone well acquainted with him could have known that he was going on so little sleep for two days. He realized with astonishment that he was expected to ride to Carlton House—at night! And on a strange horse. What on earth was Prinny thinking? Was he short on carriages?

  He took a minute and petted the horse, speaking gently to it, until it nudged its head against his arm. Good—if it hadn’t been good-natured, he’d have ordered a carriage. He petted it some more, then nodded to the groom who held the reins to steady the animal until he mounted. He wasn’t wearing riding boots, but didn’t care. He had no time to. He had other things—like the beautiful girl he was leaving just now—to think of.

  With a gentle kick to the horse’s side, he started off, following the servant. On an impulse, he glanced up at the house, and found Ariana watching from a window. He felt an unfamiliar tug at his heart, which increased as she waved gently. He nodded at her, and then headed toward the corner of the square, where he lost sight of the house.

  Mr. Mornay looks exceedingly handsome on the saddle, she thought.

  Mornay was quickly ushered into the Regent’s private apartments, through ornate antechambers and into a drawing room where the prince sat at a table with two glasses upon it. His Royal Highness beckoned Phillip to sit across from him. Then he motioned to a beautifully liveried footman to fill their glasses from a decanter. Mr. Mornay knew it would be excellent quality wine.

  He sat down after a short bow to the Regent, who was giving him a wry look.

  “Upon my soul, Mornay! You kept me waiting so long, I was beginning to credit that deuced report they’re saying about you.”

  He took a sip from his glass and replied, “What report is that?”

  The prince seemed surprised. “That you’d gone and eloped, by Jove! I knew it couldn’t be true, but I had to check, nevertheless.”

  “You needn’t have dragged me out to do it. Your messenger might have told you as much.”

  “Seeing is believing, old chap, and I had to know for certain.”

  “And what’s the business with the horse? I’d have much preferred my carriage.”

  “That was on your account. I’ve heard the streets are crawling with traffic ‘coz everyone’s bursting to share the news of a certain man’s elopement.” This brought a familiar scowl; but the prince looked searchingly at his friend. “I’ve seen you looking better; what the devil are you up to? Something, I’ve no doubt, that started the rumour.”

  Mr. Mornay sighed. “Someone has been trying to abduct Miss Forsythe—wants to pluck her right from under my nose. There have already been two attempts on her. I insisted s
he could only be safe beneath my roof—chaperoned, of course.”

  The Regent’s face revealed surprise. Which turned into amusement. He set his glass down and wiped his mouth hurriedly with his napkin. “Sounds almost medieval of you.”

  When Mornay just eyed him gravely, he cleared his throat and continued, “Well, I can’t blame you, old boy, but I begin to understand why there’s talk!” He had to laugh. “Sorry, Mornay, but to think of you being in such a position!”

  “Miss Forsythe brought two servants with her from Hanover Square, and we sent for her friend, a respectable young woman by name of Miss Herley, to come as a companion—but she was abducted en route to my house. I am convinced she was mistaken for Miss Forsythe as she was with Mrs. Bentley when it occurred.”

  The Regent could be a very feeling man at times, and this occasion found him so. “Dashed coves! A Miss Herley, you say? Any news of her since?”

  “I got word that she is returned safely. I suppose they discovered their mistake.”

  “And your Miss Forsythe? Where do you have her?”

  “Beneath my roof, still.”

  The Regent studied him. “Don’t you have an old dame of an aunt? Why not send for her? The gossips won’t stand a chance if there’s an old battleax guarding your virgin.”

  “I haven’t had a moment’s time to send for my Aunt Royleforst. But last I heard, she was ill and advised by her physician not to leave her bed.”

  The prince took a draught from his glass and wiped his mouth again delicately with the linen napkin. “Perhaps we can find a different house to keep her in. A place they won’t know to look for her.”

  “Such as?”

  He shrugged. “Anyone of our fairer sex! All she needs must be is respectable. I could have Lady Hertford take her in.”