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

by Linore Rose Burkard

  Mornay knew Ariana would be miserable if asked to stay with the Regent’s mistress. “You said, ‘respectable.”

  “Don’t start with me, Phillip!”

  “Any other ideas?”

  “I’ll think on it and send a note when I’ve hit upon it. That’s all you need, you know, the presence of a good matronly dame and that’ll shut every bone box in London.”

  “In the meantime, Sir, I think I must return to the house speedily. I trust no one at this point but myself to keep her from harm’s way.”

  “Well, of course.” His Royal Highness looked thoughtful. “One other thing, Phillip. I’ve been told I should create you a baronet. What think you of that?”

  Mr. Mornay was taken by surprise. “I cannot think why.”

  The Regent laughed. “Because you’re so devilishly fashionable that you ought to be a title. It will make your lady a real lady, and then when people say, 'Lady Mornay,' it won’t send the real ladies into the boughs!”

  When Mr. Mornay was silent, he added, “I’ll find you a place in the household so you’ll perform proper ‘service to the crown,’ and so forth. Perhaps give you a turn at being the gentleman of the wardrobe—that ought to suit you, eh?”

  “A dignified valet?” Mr. Mornay seemed amused.

  “Well, dash it, yes! To your future king! I’d like you to do it, Phillip. I’m taking a great deal of slack lately with regard to my costume, and I’d like to end all that. You are the man who could transform me in the eyes of the dashed press!”

  Mr. Mornay folded his arms. “I am about to be married.”

  “Precisely! It will be my gift to you! Miss Forsythe should be pleased, I daresay.”

  “Not to have me at your beck and call. I can advise you on costume without a title.”

  “Nevertheless, do me the honour of thinking about it.”

  “Of course.” He looked at his royal friend. “Can you offer me any help with regard to protecting her, until we wed?” This was a daring request. The Regent had no obligation to do any such thing, but he was, after all, a personal friend.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Two of your guard, perhaps?”

  He was silent a moment, thinking. “Done. You go on to your Miss Forsythe—I’ll send them along.”

  “Excellent!” He stood, bowed and then added, “Prinny, you’re quite the thing, at times.”

  Gratified, the Regent smiled and shook his hand. “Glad to help, my friend. And I will appreciate your accepting the baronetcy—let me know, Sir Phillip, will you?”

  Mornay exhaled a little laugh. Sir Phillip! No doubt the prince meant it as an honour, but

  he’d never for a second wanted a title, nor any of the traditional responsibilities attending one. Gentleman of the wardrobe, indeed.

  The Morning Chronicle wasn’t nearly as considerate as Mrs. Bentley’s butler who had kept the rumour out of sight on her desk. The newspaper, in contrast, printed the elopement on the front page with the headline, “The Birds Have Flown!” Beneath it was a caricature of Mornay and his pretty wife, both styled as costumed birds. The male bird was replete with top hat and coattails, and the female with a bonnet and gown. The two were flying off with an arrow pointing ahead to a banner reading “Scotland.” The bird representing Mr. Mornay was saying, “I’ll keep you safe, my love!” While the she-bird responded, “Heaven help us! This is shocking!”

  Beneath the large feature was small print acknowledging that the elopement was as yet an unsubstantiated “fact,” a typical oxymoronic statement by the paper. There were, it said, “the most excellent” sources for the veracity of the claim, which was printed again in the Announcements column, directly above the Auctions listings.

  Mr. Pellham never missed his paper, and with a heavy sigh, he took it in hand when he set out that morning to call at Hanover Square. Mrs. Bentley, he thought, was going to be in rare form.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lavinia Herley finally prevailed upon her parents to allow her to call upon Miss Forsythe. Her services as a proper companion might be needed, she pointed out. And she did not want to miss the opportunity of staying at Mr. Mornay’s beautiful house and being with her dear friend for the last four days before she was wed. It would be comfortable and diverting.

  Her father had to let fall a heavy blow, however. He held up his copy of the Chronicle, and let his daughter read the headline for herself. “The Birds Have Flown!”

  Lavinia scanned the piece, speechless. Having herself suffered an abduction, she could understand what had driven the couple to such an extreme measure, but she was unaccountably disappointed at it. She was quick to note that it said, “unsubstantiated fact,” but in her heart she felt it was true. Mr. Mornay would not suffer his love to fall into the path of evil again. She was even glad that her friend was safely married to the man she loved. Pity it had to happen in such a way, but Ariana was Mrs. Mornay now. She thought of herself and Lord Antoine. If only they could find a way to persuade her parents to allow the match—she would settle for an elopement in a second if it made her Lady Antoine Holliwell!

  While she was thinking thus, Mr. Chesley called, wearing a look of great unrest.

  “Miss Herley,” he said in a loud whisper while they were still in the front hall. “Antoine is in Newgate!”

  What! On what account?”

  “They’ve pinned your abduction on him!”

  “But that’s ridiculous!”

  “I know it and you know it, but devilish little good that will do him. They took him at Mrs. Bentley’s house.”

  “Oh, no! I sent him there to tell her I was safe!”

  “Well, he’s under the hatches, now. They’ll send ‘im across the herring pond if we don’t do something—if they spare him the gibbet, of course!”

  “Transport—or the gibbet? Oh, my soul!” Miss Herley covered her mouth with one hand. “And Ariana and Mr. Mornay gone! What am I to do? If I tell my parents, they’ll only believe him more guilty and deserving of what he gets!” She turned her earnest eyes to her friend. “We must help him!”

  Mrs. Bentley had finally achieved a good night’s sleep, but she awoke knowing she was not at her best. She had endured having her niece abducted from the best neighbourhood in London. She had endured the further horrifying experience of having Miss Herley abducted from her own carriage. She had swooned—for the first time in her life—and little liked the experience. She had been through the ups and downs of the romance between her niece and the Paragon. And now she was tired. She was tired of planning, scheming, hoping, and striving. In fact, she was just plain tired.

  But she rallied her strength, for today she was determined to accomplish an important task. She would correct the insanity of the situation with her niece. It was utterly absurd that it had been allowed to go on as long as it had. She would put her foot down with Mr. Mornay and insist upon Ariana joining her at Hanover Square, or—or--she’d get the magistrate! The law would be on her side. It wasn’t proper or right that he should be given leave to keep a lady of quality in his house unchaperoned!

  Now that one ruffian was in custody, she was certain that brother of his, Wingate, would keep a low profile. Which meant it was no doubt safe for her niece to return to the house. There were a mere four days until the wedding. Her brother and his family would be arriving at any time. They would expect to find their child with Mrs. Bentley, and rightly so.

  Imagine if they were to find her residing in her future home prior to the ceremony! There would never be another niece for her to sponsor—not that Mrs. Bentley was sure she would ever wish to sponsor another niece after this higgledy piggledy season with Ariana. How scatter-brained she had been to allow Mornay to take her relation from the house!

  She rang for Harrietta. “Quickly, Harrietta! I cannot rest a moment longer until I see my niece!”

  Mr. Pellham was just turning the corner onto Hanover Square when he saw a carriage that looked much like Mrs. Bentley’s leaving it. He
had his cane and his newspaper, and he stopped in consternation. If Mrs. Bentley was going out, his mission was in vain.

  Yet he was not certain it had been her carriage—they all looked frightfully alike—and he could always wait at her house for her return. He continued walking.

  Miss Herley was taking a drive with Mr. Chesley. This is what she told her parents. She did not mention that the light curricle was borrowed—without permission—or that their destination was Mrs. Bentley’s house on Hanover Square. Drastic times demanded drastic measures, she told herself. When Antoine was safe, she would tell her parents everything.

  As soon as they pulled to the curb at Ariana’s aunt’s house, Lavinia could not contain her impatience. “I’ll go ahead, Harold. Come inside when the groom appears.” She scrambled down in a rather unladylike manner, eager to enlist the aid of Mrs. Bentley. Once that lady understood that Antoine had not been involved in her abduction—not in the least—she was certain Mrs. Bentley had the wherewithal to obtain his release, and would do so.

  Haines recognized the young lady, or he would never have parted with the information that his mistress had just left for Grosvenor Square.

  “Grosvenor Square! Whatever for?”

  He believed she was going to see Miss Forsythe.

  But hadn’t she eloped with Mr. Mornay?

  Eloped? Haines had not yet seen the morning paper and looked utterly shocked. Lavinia turned on her heel and hurried back to the carriage.

  There was a great hub of people and carriages around Mr. Mornay’s house when Mrs. Bentley’s coach tried to approach it. In the end she had to leave her equipage and walk from the corner of Upper Brook Street to House number 25. It was only natural she should inquire what all the fuss was about.

  “Why, the Paragon has eloped with Miss Forsythe, ma’am! Have you not seen the paper?” The young man offering this information immediately produced the Chronicle from beneath an arm, and unfolded it in front of Mrs. Bentley’s face. She saw the headline, “The Birds have Flown!” and quickly scanned the caricature. Her mouth dropped in astonishment as she digested this horror. She was thankful for her bonnet at that moment, which she hoped had kept her reaction largely hidden from bystanders.

  “If this is true,” she said, trying to speak in a normal tone, though her heart beat painfully in her chest and her legs had gone all weak, “what is the purpose of this crowd? If the couple has eloped, there is naught here of interest.”

  The young man smiled. “The bets are on at White’s and Boodle's, ma’am, and the stakes are pontifical. We’re here to protect our wagers. Some say it ainʼt true, see. I’ll discover the truth if I must remain here all day and the next! I’ve a thousand pounds on it!”

  “Upon which side is your money, sir?” Her face had taken on a look of wary disdain. The young man did not notice that the hands gripping the newspaper had tightened ominously.

  He smiled condescendingly. “Surely you do not doubt the Chronicle? If they’ve slandered Mornay, there’ll be no end of it! No, I am convinced the report must be true.” Mrs. Bentley folded the paper quickly and moved as though she would thrust it sharply back into the hand of its owner. Instead, giving in to a sudden strong righteous indignation, as though this young man was to blame for all, she stared into his uncomprehending eyes for one moment. Then she lashed that paper down upon his head, his hat, his shoulders, at which he began protesting and backing away. Looking at her as though she were the devil incarnate, he turned and took off into the crowd. Mrs. Bentley watched him go and stood there catching her breath.

  Her action had resulted in an odd silence among the people around her, who were now staring at her curiously.

  “Spurious lies!” she pronounced to the whole crowd. She threw the paper to the ground, and continued on. Her legs felt weaker, yet. Was she in danger of another faint? What on earth was happening to her robust constitution? She walked on, blindly moving past pockets of lolling gentlemen, making her way woodenly towards the door of the house. At one time she had almost thought an elopement would solve her worries. Faced with the possibility, it no longer held the least appearance of rational judgment! Was she going mad? She was no longer certain whether to condemn the action or to give it her approbation! What was the world coming to, when a body could not tell whether something was good or bad?

  Madame had launched the on-dit onto society, precisely as Mrs. Bentley had feared. If only Mr. Mornay had listened to her to begin with, none of this would have happened. Well, she, Mrs. Bentley was not going to set things right. Leave it to Mornay to clear his own name! He was the one who insisted upon making the arrangements—keeping his future wife in his house. Little wonder there was such a fuss! She marched on, blithely passing any who knew her and wished to speak to her. (“To get her beneath their heels long enough to savour the sensation of crushing her in the dust,” she would later say to Mr. Pellham). No, Mrs. Bentley would have none of it. Soon, she knocked decidedly upon the door of the house. And found herself face to face with uniformed soldiers—the prince’s colours!

  “I am Miss Forsythe’s guardian and chaperon,” she exclaimed, “not to mention, her relation. Now, take me inside at once.” They looked at each other but hesitated.

  “You know as well as I do,” she said, in a shrewd undertone, “that my niece and Mr. Mornay are at home in this establishment! Take me in, I say!”

  Mrs. Bentley was brought inside. She sighed, inwardly relieved. So they hadn’t eloped! And then she grew worried because they hadn’t. Oh, it was all too provoking!

  Lavinia and Mr. Chesley had no hope of getting into the Square. It seemed that Mrs. Bentley’s carriage had made it just before that crucial time when a crush turns into a complete hubble-bubble when no one can make headway in any direction.

  “You’d think Napoleon was captured!” Chesley exclaimed. Lavinia’s face creased with worry. “Do you think Mrs. Bentley was able to get through?”

  “She may have been. But it might be best to wait in her drawing room for her return, than to try and squeeze through this.”

  “No, I couldn’t stand it,” she cried. And with that, Lavinia once again scrambled down from the equipage without help, straightened her gown and, and with one hand on her bonnet, rushed into the milling people on the street. No one must stop her from getting help for Antoine. Had he not rescued her? It was her chance, now, to do the same for him!

  At the house she found the soldiers, now outside, guarding entry.

  “I am Miss Lavinia Herley. Mr. Mornay sent for me and I was abducted yesterday when I tried to get here!”

  “No, I have no note, but I was to be Miss Forsythe’s chaperon!”

  “But I know Mrs. Bentley! She wanted me for her niece’s companion! You must tell her I am here!”

  “Please, I beg you!”

  Tears ran down her face, but the men were unmoved. “Oh, dear Lord, Ariana prays to you and is helped. Please, help me, now!” But still the stern faces of the soldiers blocked her from the house. She turned to go. But wait! The door of the house opened, and one of the soldiers scooted over for a word with someone behind it. Next, he turned to look at her and wonder of wonders! He motioned for Miss Herley to come, and the next thing she knew she was inside and sharing an embrace with Ariana.

  It couldn’t have been a result of my prayer, could it? Lavinia wondered.

  “Thank God you are safe!” Ariana exclaimed.

  “And you, my dearest! You didn’t elope!”

  “Of course not.” She smiled.

  “But Ariana—oh, it is so terrible!”

  “What is?” Her friend’s eyes were large in her face. Mrs. Bentley was suddenly there. She wanted to express her satisfaction that Lavinia had been safely delivered, but waited to hear her terrible news.

  “Antoine has been taken! They’ve got him at Newgate!” Ariana gave a worried look to her aunt. “Oh, my dearest!” was all she could say.

  Lavinia saw Ariana’s aunt and rushed toward her. “Mrs. Bentley
! You know he had no hand in what happened! It was all Lord Wingate! You were there!” Mrs. Bentley’s face went blank. “I daresay I do not know who took you, my gel. I never saw the man, before.”

  “Ma’am, it was his brother, Lord Wingate! Antoine crossed his own brother to rescue me! Mr. Chesley saw me in Wingate’s power, and he told Lord Antoine of it, and they came together and got me out! They freed me from the man, don’t you see? Lord Antoine put his own welfare and safety behind my own! Wingate is bound to seek his harm, as soon as he learns his brother caused my escape.” Lavinia’s eyes teared up and she shook her head, sadly. “Mrs. Bentley! You are my last hope! You must say you will aid me in getting his release! They’ll transport him! Or hang him! Please, I beg you, tell me you will help me!”

  Mrs. Bentley had put one hand to her heart. She was amazed to discover that Miss Herley was in love, and that it was with a man she had no doubt whatsoever was a criminal. What could she say?

  “I will help you.” It was the voice of Mr. Mornay.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I do not know what to say, sir!” Lavinia blinked up at Mr. Mornay gratefully.

  You can start by telling me this. Is it not true that while Holliwell had no hand in your abduction, he helped plan the attempts on Miss Forsythe, earlier? That the incidents at Merillton House and her abduction from the Viscount’s house were on his account as well as his brother’s?”

  “Only the first attempt. He had no hand in taking Ariana from the Viscount’s. I have spoken to him at length regarding all of it. He fully repents of his wrongdoing, and was sorry for it from the start!”

  To Mr. Mornay’s look of doubt, she added, “His brother is the real villain! All Julian cares about is money—for gaming and drink. Antoine tried to dissuade him from taking Ariana, but he was adamant. Antoine feels certain, sir, that there is something in your past history with his brother which is fueling his resolve—”