by Sandra Heath
Chapter 38
Imogen was at last awake, and she was sitting up in bed when her maid showed Edward in. “Edward? To what do I owe the pleasure of such an early visit?”
“Early? Dear girl, it’s gone midday.”
“Since I intend to dance until dawn tonight, I think I deserve to be lazy.”
“That isn’t all you might deserve. I must speak with you in private.”
She waved the maid away and then looked curiously at him. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Rupert Allingham has married Nadia Benckendorff after all.”
“No, but unless you take a few precautions, dear creature, you’ll forfeit de Lacey to Leonie Conyngham after all.”
Her blue eyes sharpened. “Why do you say that?”
“Oh, perhaps because I witnessed a very tender and passionate scene in the library early this morning.”
She stared at him. “I cannot believe that they did anything while you were present.”
“They didn’t know I was there, they left the door ajar. You have much to fear, Imogen, for although she is intending to do the right thing, as they say, and has told him she’s leaving first thing in the morning, I wouldn’t bank on it if I were you. She may intend going, but I’m not so sure he intends letting her.”
Imogen had gone very pale now. “Are you quite sure of what you saw?”
He gave a brief laugh. “Quite sure. It was no mere peck on the cheek, it was a full-blooded kiss. To be sure, it made me feel quite hot.”
Her eyes flashed. ‘This is no time for your notion of clever humor!”
“It wasn’t humor, it was wistfulness,” he replied smoothly, “for I’d have paid handsomely to have been in his place.”
Furiously she flung back the bedclothes and got out of the bed. “Yes, you’d have paid ten thousand guineas!”
“Correction, I’d have won ten thousand guineas.”
“Damn you, Edward, can’t you be serious for once? I’ve just woken up on the day I’m to be betrothed, and you tell me Guy has been making love to Leonie Conyngham! The very least you can do is be helpful, instead of just cynical.”
“My dear, I’m about to be very helpful indeed, far more helpful than your present mood deserves.”
“What do you mean?” She looked quickly at him.
He took the earrings from his pocket and held them aloft so that they glittered. “The schoolteacher is wearing the matching necklace tonight.”
“Oh no,” breathed Imogen, “for she will be out of this house before then!”
“How do you intend to achieve that? Will you bundle her out in person, with all the guests looking on in astonishment? No, I think not, especially when there is another way. Guy opened the secret cupboard in front of her—”
“What secret cupboard?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you know? Well, Leonie Conyngham now does, that’s for sure. It’s in the library—he keeps his mother’s jewels there. Leonie chose a necklace to wear tonight, and then they were…er, sidetracked….”
“Oh, do get on with it!” she snapped.
“Well, she left him, and then almost immediately his agent arrived, twittering about a collapsing bridge somewhere, and he and Guy left to examine it. Guy left the key of the cupboard on the table.”
“And so you took the earrings.”
“Correct. It would seem to me a simple matter to hide them somewhere in her room and then choose an opportune moment on Guy’s return to accuse her of theft. She will be sweetly compromised, and I don’t think her protestations of innocence will win him over on this occasion.”
At that moment Imogen thought she heard a sound from the next room. “Someone’s there!” she whispered urgently, going to the door. But the room was empty. Slowly she turned back to him. “I could have sworn I heard a noise. If someone should have heard—”
“Well, they didn’t, did they? Now then, I’m anxious to get rid of these earrings as quickly as possible, and since Leonie is at this moment still out walking—she has a great deal on her mind, you understand—I think it an ideal moment for us to secrete these somewhere in her rooms.”
“Us? I see no reason for me to—”
“The brat is in the next apartment, I’ll need you to keep watch.”
Imogen took a deep breath and then reluctantly nodded. “Very well. But it must be done quickly. I don’t want to risk being seen.”
Shortly afterward, they slipped along the passage to Leonie’s door. The house was full of noise and bustle now, but it was quiet where they stood. After glancing quickly all around, they slipped into the empty apartment. Imogen hurried quickly to the folding door into Stella’s rooms. It was tightly closed, and there was no sound from beyond it. Edward looked quickly around for a suitable place to conceal the earrings, then smiled as his glance fell on a many-branched candelabrum standing on a table. He removed two of the candles, dropping an earring into each holder and then replacing the candles. Imogen’s eyes gleamed and she smiled; then they both slipped out again.
* * *
It was almost dark now, and there was a torrent of water roaring beneath the arches of Hartwell Bridge. Torches flickered on the bridge and along the riverbanks as the men watched the engineer, who had at last arrived from London, being slowly lowered on a makeshift cradle to examine the center piers. Guy leaned wearily back against the trunk of a tree, his top hat pulled forward and his heavy cloak drawn tightly about him. The ground was soft and wet now, and there was a dampness in the air which seemed to seep right through him. The roar of the water was deafening, and the dancing torches looked demonic in the encroaching darkness. He watched as the engineer gave the stonework a minute examination, his lantern held close, his cloak billowing in the bitter draft of icy air sweeping up from the foaming, thundering torrent sweeping by barely inches beneath the cradle. At last he had finished and signaled to be raised once more. Guy straightened, leaving his place by the tree to go and hear what the man had to say.
“Well? Is it safe?” The noise of the river almost drowned his voice.
* * *
As darkness fell at Poyntons, the house was ablaze with lights. The guests had nearly all arrived, and everyone was preparing for the ball. Among the guests who hadn’t yet arrived was Rupert, Duke of Thornbury, a fact which Edward, glancing shrewdly at the time, was careful to note. There were others who noted it too, and there was much talk about the bets at White’s.
The hour of the ball arrived at last, but there was still no sign of Rupert or of Guy. Imogen, wearing a gown of sheer silver-blue gauze sprinkled with tiny satin spots, took up her place at the foot of the ballroom steps, greeting each guest who entered. She murmured excuses for Guy, mentioning his anxiety about a dangerous bridge, and she was, to all intents and purposes, the mistress of the house. She looked magnificent, her red hair dressed up exquisitely beneath a turban around which was twisted a long string of pearls, and there was something about her tonight which struck everyone who saw her, an air of almost exultant anticipation which shone most noticeably in her blue eyes. Everyone put it down to the imminence of her betrothal to Guy, but Edward, dancing with Nadia, knew that it was the prospect of at last striking out Leonie Conyngham.
Nadia danced on air, and she had never looked more beautiful than she did tonight, the hundreds of sequins on her white gown flashing in the light from the chandeliers. Her golden hair was adorned with a jeweled comb, and there were opals at her throat and in her ears. She moved gracefully to the music, constantly seeking Edward’s eyes and smiling yearningly at him. Tonight he would be hers, he had whispered so, he had left no doubt at all….
Leonie and Stella appeared at last in the entrance of the ballroom, looking over the crowded floor, where jewels flashed against pale throats and tall plumes swayed, and where the dark velvet evening dress of the gentlemen formed the perfect foil for the delicate pastel shades worn by the ladies. The strains of the orchestra rose sweetly above the babble of conversation, and it seemed that eve
n without Guy’s presence the ball was a resounding success.
Stella’s hand crept nervously into Leonie’s, and Leonie smiled down at her, thinking that she looked particularly pretty in her best blue velvet dress, a golden locket given to her by Guy around her throat.
Leonie wore her white silk gown again, but this time it was enhanced by the beautiful diamond necklace, which looked quite perfect, as she had instinctively known it would. Her hair was dressed up into a knot, and once again there were several long curls tumbling down from it, just as she always liked. She took a deep breath and then squeezed Stella’s hand before nodding at the waiting master of ceremonies. His staff rapped upon the marble floor and he announced their names. There was a brief stir of interest and many faces turned quickly toward the steps, but then the moment was over and they were forgotten again.
At the foot of the steps, Imogen turned slowly to look up at them both. There was no smile on her lips and her eyes were like ice. She watched as they slowly descended, and at the last moment she turned away. They walked past without being formally greeted, and they were the only two in the whole room to have been dealt such a snub.
The snub had not passed unnoticed, for a number of people had witnessed it, including Edward, who thought his sister’s action very foolish, for it drew attention to the fact that there was some acrimony between herself and Leonie. People were not dull-witted; they would put two and two together and arrive at the correct answer. Soon it would be being whispered that Imogen Longhurst was jealous of the schoolteacher, and Imogen would have only herself to blame on this occasion. He glanced again toward the steps, where Imogen was now all smiles to greet the next guests. She’d never hold a man like Guy de Lacey, she wasn’t clever enough, she couldn’t see beyond the immediate. But Leonie Conyngham was clever without even knowing it, so Imogen was at the crossroads now; one false step and Guy would turn to Leonie forever.
Leonie and Stella made their way around the edge of the ballroom until they found a vacant sofa. For Stella’s sake, Leonie tried hard to be lighthearted, but it was quite difficult when she felt the very opposite, and she knew that the girl wasn’t deceived by the pretense. “I’m sorry, Stella, I’m spoiling your first ball for you.”
“No, you’re not,” replied the girl quickly. “You’re not spoiling anything. It will be all right, honestly it will.”
“You said that before.”
“But this time it’s true,” was the mysterious reply.
Leonie looked quickly at her, but at that moment the master of ceremonies’ staff rapped importantly and he made an announcement which brought the ball to a standstill.
“The Duke and Duchess of Thornbury, and the dowager Duchess of Thornbury.”
There was a buzz of astonishment as all eyes went to the three people at the top of the marble steps. Rupert wore a blue coat with flat brass buttons, and white breeches with silver buckles, the accepted clothes of a bridegroom. Beside him, looking very happy indeed, stood his diminutive mother, resplendent in primrose brocade. On his other side, her hand placed a little possessively through his arm, was Marguerite St. Julienne, looking as dreadful as ever in mauve satin. It was toward her left hand that all eyes were drawn, for there, displayed for all to see, was a wedding ring.
A babble of conversation broke out as they descended the steps to be greeted and congratulated by Imogen. On the floor, Edward and Nadia had immediately stopped dancing. Nadia glanced briefly at the new arrivals, a cold anger passing fleetingly through her as she remembered Rupert’s deceit and the way he had made love to her on the last occasion they were together, but then she turned with a smile toward Edward, who was all that mattered now. Her smile faded at the pale fury she saw written on his face.
“Edward? Whatever is it?”
“He’s tricked me,” he breathed, his gaze not moving from Rupert’s smiling face.
“Tricked you? I don’t understand. You told me he was going to marry her, and now he has, so why do you—?”
His cold eyes swung to her puzzled face then. “You fool, you still don’t realize, do you? You thought you were using him and then me, but we were using you.”
She flinched a little, her fan snapping open then and wafting swiftly to and fro before her hot face. Alarm was spreading through her, but she still didn’t understand. “How has he tricked you?” she demanded, her green eyes meeting his.
“Because I thought he intended marrying you. I thought I was lying when I told you he was marrying the Jamaican.”
She stared at him. “You thought….” Her voice died away. “You aren’t going to marry me, are you?”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “I’m amazed that you ever believed I would. Women like you are two a penny, my dear, and I don’t want soiled goods when I marry.”
Hot color sprang to her cheeks then and she dealt him a furious blow to the face, leaving a stinging mark on his pale skin. He put his hand slowly to touch the place where she had struck him, but then he merely bowed to her and turned to walk away, pushing his way through the guests who had all turned with interest from the group by the steps to watch this other disturbance instead.
Nadia stood where she was, waves of dismay and humiliation sweeping over her. She turned desperately, seeking Dorothea’s eyes, but Dorothea turned deliberately away. With a cry, Nadia gathered her skirts and fled, and the crowd parted before her, watching as she hurried up the steps and out of the ballroom.
Edward made his way toward the steps as well, but Rupert saw him and moved into his path. “I trust you aren’t leaving without congratulating me.”
“Go to hell.”
Rupert grinned. “Come now, I do hate a poor loser. You’ve always thought me the fool, Longhurst, but this time the dunce’s cap is yours. I didn’t say I was going to marry Nadia, you presumed that I was referring to her. You thought it definite when I didn’t deny it on being questioned, but if you think very carefully, you’ll remember that I didn’t admit it either, I was at my ambiguous best. You thought that by stealing Nadia you’d defeat me, but you were wrong, for I never had any intention of marrying her, and if you’d checked very carefully among the bets that were being made, you’d have known it. I told you that I’d had a large wager made secretly on your behalf, and so I have, but it is that I would marry Marguerite today, not Nadia. That very secret wager is already becoming painfully public, I’ve seen to that. Society doesn’t like a sharp, Longhurst, and you’re going to appear a prime one indeed, double dealing to the disadvantage of your friends to fill your already bulging pockets. There’s no excuse for that. They’ll think you’ve deliberately misled them twice, and that’s not playing the game. All’s fair in love and war, but the same doesn’t go for cheating on one’s friends. Every door of consequence is going to be closed to you.” He smiled and stepped out of Edward’s path. “I bid you good night. I do trust you will enjoy the remainder of the ball as it will be the last social occasion of any importance you’ll be attending for some time.”
Edward’s eyes were like flint. “Be on your guard from this moment on, Thornbury. I’ll make you pay, of that you may be sure.”
For a moment Rupert’s smile faltered, for there was something in the other’s gaze which instilled a deep cold in him. He turned quickly away, returning to his new bride and his mother.
Edward went slowly on up the steps, pausing at the top to look back at the ball; then he went on out, beckoning to a footman who stood near the staircase. “Have my carriage made ready, I shall be leaving soon.”
“Very well, my lord.”
At that moment the main door of the house closed, and looking down into the entrance hall, Edward saw that Guy had at last returned.
Chapter 39
Guy came slowly up the staircase, pausing as he saw Edward. “I can think of other faces I’d rather see than yours, Longhurst.”
“To be sure, I feel more or less the same myself, de Lacey, but on this occasion I rather think it is as well that you’ve seen me
first, and not, shall we say, a certain pretty schoolteacher?”
Guy’s eyes darkened. “And what do you mean by that?”
“Mean? My dear fellow, I don’t know what you think I’m insinuating, but the truth is that I’ve discovered the lady to be a thief, and I rather think you will have to agree, when you see the proof.”
Guy looked at him for a long moment, “I warn you, Longhurst,” he said softly, ‘Tm in no mood for—”
“She’s a thief, de Lacey, and Imogen and I can prove it.”
“Imogen?”
“She has seen the proof.”
Guy took a deep breath. “I don’t believe Leonie Conyngham is a thief, Longhurst, and I don’t really care if you and Imogen have proof ten times over.”
“You’re touchingly trusting, dear fellow, but if you will leave keys lying around after you’ve shown penniless schoolteachers where you keep your mother’s jewels, I rather think you’re asking for trouble.”
Guy’s eyes narrowed then. “And what would you know of it?”
“I saw her go into the library, pick up the key from the table, and open the cupboard. She took out the earrings which match the necklace she’s wearing tonight, and she hid them in the candelabrum in her bedroom. If you don’t believe me, I suggest you go and look for yourself.”
“Where’s Imogen now?”
“Receiving your guests for you.”
“No, I’m not,” came Imogen’s voice from the entrance of the ballroom. The satin spots of her gown shimmering, she hurried toward Guy, linking her slender arms around his neck and stretching up to kiss him.