Alexa saw his eyes flicker and sucked in her breath again, this time with a feeling of panic. Thank God she managed not to scream when she felt a streak of liquid fire wrap itself around her hips, although the breath she expelled sounded like a sob.
“Ah,” Newbury said smilingly, “and now do you think you might change your story? Because no matter whose bastard you are, my dear, you are certainly not mine.”
“I’m not your bastard! Was Victorine Bouvard your legal wife, as the marriage certificate in my possession testifies, or did you always make a habit of marrying a second wife while the first was still alive? Do you remember that you had a daughter by my mother, poor soul, and that she was christened Alexandra Victoria after the Princess of Kent? Or was it more convenient, perhaps, to let my mother believe you had been killed in Greece, so that you could marry the daughter of a Duke and breed your bastards off her?”
“Someone... Curse you, bitch! Someone has told you all this! Solange! Yes, Solange! Confess it!”
“I might confess to anything, I admit, if I’m beaten hard enough, but it’ll do you and your family no good when the documents that prove what I say are produced! Do you remember Harriet Howard? Martin, who was her brother? A sketch portfolio? A book of poems with an inscription to your beloved ‘Rina’? A signet ring bearing your crest outlined by diamonds? Gavin Edward Dameron, Viscount Dare, presently Marquess of Newbury. And how I’ve hated the thought that you of all men are my father! I can only think of you as Newbury, you know. Does that make incest any easier to stomach, my lord?”
The silence that followed was almost a tangible tightness that seemed to expand and swell until it seemed as if the small space that enclosed them all was filled to smothering point before it was abruptly broken by a burst of jarring laughter.
“Por Dios!” Nicholas Dameron said. “And now I could almost feel sorry for you, Newbury. It seems as if the women of your line are even more cunning and vindictive than the men! Do you find yourself hoist by your own petard?”
There was a second or two after that when no one was certain of what Newbury, who had remained white-faced and staring as if he had turned to stone, might do when he rose very slowly from his chair. Alexa’s heart had begun to thump almost painfully again when he said in a very soft voice to Brown, “Give me the whip.” And then, when the man stared at him as if he was still in a mesmeric trance, he almost snarled, “Give me the damned whip, I say!”
“You can easily persuade her to tell you where she has hidden all those papers,” Charles said in an urgent, almost gloating voice. “Whip her a few times and she’ll crack. And after we’re married and she’s safely locked up in the place Belle-Mere told me of, there’ll be no more danger of scandal, will there?”
“Ah yes, my mother,” Newbury said in that same quiet voice. “My clever, scheming, vindictive mother. It would be much like her to... Sit down again, Charles. And be silent unless I speak to you, yes? And Nicholas, perhaps I shall yet have to teach you that in some cases silence has its virtues. You understand, I hope.” The only sign that the Marquess had come close to losing his control showed in the harshness of his breathing in the stillness that held them all again until he let down the rope through the pulley himself,- and taking up his heavy cloth cloak, threw it roughly over Alexa’s suddenly cold body. “Here, cover yourself! And now you shall repeat this story of yours and answer my questions, and I hope for your sake that you have the correct answers. But first, tell me what you meant earlier when you said that my—that the Dowager Marchioness knew everything?”
The Marquess of Newbury showed no loss of his usual composure as he casually handed his silk hat and his coat to the sleepy butler at his mother’s house in Belgrave Square; and his manner was just as politely distant as he dropped his gloves and cane on a table before turning away to. stand with his back to the fire.
She had greeted him with a sarcastic lift of her eyebrows and a trace of irritation in her voice as she said, “My dear Gavin. Such a surprise on a night like this, and at such an hour! Darley tells me that you noticed a light in my room...?”
“Ah yes. I was dropping Alexandra—Lady Travers, that is—off at her house when I saw it and thought you might still be up.”
He smiled at her in a manner that actually made her slightly uneasy, so that she snapped: “Alexandra, is it? I should have thought that your nephew would be the one to escort her home. Or did you have other news to give me? Because if not—it has been quite a tiring day for me and I am planning, as you know, to leave for Spain the day after tomorrow. Please come to the point, if you will.”
“Ah, but the point, my dear mother, is that I do not think you are going to find it convenient to be leaving for Spain when I am counting on your help with all the tiresome preparations for a wedding. In fact, I thought you might wish to give a small prewedding reception here, and then arrange for the reception after the ceremony itself to be held at my residence. You have always been so good at arranging things, after all.”
For once he had managed to surprise her. The Dowager actually stopped rocking back and forth in her chair to frown up at him before she said crossly, “Wedding? It’s too late at night for me to be interested in solving riddles. Whose wedding can you possibly be speaking of?”
“You don’t mind if I help myself to some of your excellent brandy, Mother?” Without waiting for her answer, he had already opened the sideboard and was pouring out a drink of her best Napoleon cognac for himself, with a deplorable lack of manners. What had got into him? She was not comfortable with this new mood of his, nor with the strangely measuring way in which his eyes seemed to study her and almost force her to repeat her last question, this time with unconcealed irritation.
“Whose? Why your granddaughter’s, of course. To Embry. She insisted upon him as her choice of a bridegroom, I’m afraid. Although it seems only just, don’t you agree, that my daughter should be the next Marchioness of Newbury?”
“And when did all this take place, and since when have you interested yourself in such things?” the Dowager cried petulantly. “ I should have been told if Helen had changed her mind about breaking off her engagement to Embry, and you should also have informed me that you had decided to set him free. Unless...” She sat up straighter in her chair and her eyes began to brighten. “Unless you finally had the truth from both of them? Ah, is that why you’re really here? To tell me that you finally did as I suggested and forced matters?”
“Dear, clever, inventive mother.” The Marquess raised his glass to her in a mocking toast and sipped from it pensively before he lowered it and said: “I suppose that you could, if you would, say that I contrived almost by accident to force matters. To force secrets, rotten with worms and maggots, out into the open to be examined. But as to your earlier question—did I not say my daughter? Your granddaughter? Helen, poor girl, is only one of my three bastard daughters by my bigamous wife, as you always knew, dear Mother. I was speaking of the wedding that is to take place between my legitimate daughter and my only heir. I thought you would have guessed already, unless your age is beginning to muddle your thinking. It would be a pity if that should happen or you should make me think so, in case I should have to commit you to the exclusive sanitarium you recommended to my nephew Charles for his future wife’s lodging. Ah!” His sudden cold laugh made the Marchioness, who had never been frightened in her life, suddenly cringe back in her rocking chair and lick her dry lips as he came a few steps closer to stand gazing down at her before he said mockingly: “But why do you suddenly look so white, ma belle-mere? We both know you do not possess a conscience, so it cannot be that, can it? Well then? You are not usually speechless, and I had been looking forward to hearing some comments from you since you are so good at planning. Just as you planned for my removal from my wife and my child and for my extended stay in Turkey; and as you planned so cleverly for poor Victorine with the help of the Howards. And again for Embry to be punished and warned to conform to what you dictated, just as
I was; and for me to take and use my own daughter in the same fashion as you know and encourage me to use my whores! The list is almost endless, is it not? You do not wish me to tire us both by going on, do you? My bitch-whore-mother?” “You cannot speak to me so! How dare you! And all on the word of a cunning bitch who means to use us all? If she’s your daughter—you could have bred her on Solange—don’t you see it all, and how they’ve planned to dupe you? There was no wedding certificate. That poor foolish creature who claimed you married her could not even prove it. Gavin, you are too easily led by your emotions. If you were not you’d see that everything I’ve done was for your good! Look where you are now—the position you hold in the government, the way you are respected. If I had not made sure that you were protected from certain of your foolish mistakes, you would be...a nobody! Nothing, and nowhere, do you understand? You are the Marquess of Newbury, and the name means something— -family means something! With a little French upstart... Hah! People who are weak need somebody to lead them, my dear Gavin, and you were a weakling until I decided you should be made stronger. And now, be good enough to leave my house so that I can seek my bed, for I do not choose to entertain you any longer. Why don’t you go across the street and let that little bitch you call your ‘daughter’ accommodate your moods for a change?”
Face flushed with anger, the Dowager Marchioness made as if to rise from her chair, only to find herself pushed back into it with so much force that she gasped with fear and outrage. “You have forgotten yourself completely now! How dare you treat me in such a fashion? Leave now, Gavin, before I ring for my servants to remove you.”
“My dear mother!” Instead of obeying her or looking chastened he threw back his head and laughed, and she suddenly noticed that he was playing with the silvertopped cane he had brought in with him. And then the laughter was wiped from his voice and his face as he leaned over her and said distinctly: “This is not your house, and the servants who staff it are not your servants. Do you understand? I am the Marquess of Newbury and I own this place and everything else I pay for from my income. You are dependent on what I choose to allow you— and what you may do or not do is also dependent upon my permission, since I am the head of this family. It is high time you realized it, I think! Why, Madame Mother, in less than a half hour I could pay five doctors enough money to put you away and out of my sight forever; and under conditions you’d hardly enjoy. And...” As he twisted one end of the cane the silver knob came off, and he shook free five leather thongs that were knotted along their length and held them over her face while he said: “Do you see my little toy? It would give me pleasure to use it on you while I think of all your vicious meddling and the havoc it has caused in so many lives. Who would know? Who would care? You are not loved, Belle-Mere. You were feared once, perhaps, but no longer, no longer! No more intriguing—I’m seeing to it that in future you’ll have to beg me for every penny I allow you, if I choose to. The spies you employ are to be paid off immediately, and it is you who will be watched and guarded from now on. Think on it, and remember that at any time I please I can turn this pleasant life of luxury you lead into an unpleasant nightmare! For I happen to be spawned by you and am what you turned me and twisted me into! Be warned, therefore, and do nothing to thwart or annoy me!” For long after her son had left her the Marchioness sat in her chair trembling as if she had the ague and was ashamed to ring for her maid because of it. And for the first time in her life she felt helpless and afraid and wholly at the mercy of another person. Why did it have to happen? Why to her? “The Queen is dead!” she suddenly remembered that strong voice saying. “Long live the Queen!” And so power passed, and now it was the young Queen who had it. But for how long? And how and to what end would she use it?
Chapter 49
Most of the fashionable town houses in London had been closed up when the season ended, but almost as many had been reopened again during the last week in October for the Wedding. After all, it was the most intriguing and unexpected event of the year, and there were so many questions that no one seemed to know the answers to.
“Adelina is actually sponsoring her, my dear; and they say that Newbury of all people is to give her away. I wonder how it all came about so suddenly? And what happened to poor Deering?”
“What I wonder is where Embry has been hiding himself all this time—and if this sudden change of heart has anything to do with the fact that Helen jilted him.”
“But didn’t you hear the whispers that were going the rounds just before we left London? Something to do with Embry abducting her for a reckless, stolen night, while all the time they were both engaged to other people.”
“I fear you have a far too romantic turn of mind, love. Reckless, stolen night indeed! You’re too young to know about such things, even if they did happen. I’m going to this wedding out of pure curiosity; because I don’t know why or how it came about and I’d like to.”
* * *
“I never wanted this kind of a wedding. How did it all come about? They’re all coming because they’re curious, that’s all. And my grandmother has been like a crocodile, all smiles. I do not trust her like that. I am no longer sure of anything, not even myself. Ah, it was so easy to be bold that night when I was desperate and it was the only course left to me. I knew what I wanted then and I was determined to have it too, and that helped. But now... Do you understand what I am saying? Now I feel as if everything is being decided for me and I’m helpless. And vulnerable too, because I have thrown all my javelins and have no more weapons left to lose. Lose! Did you hear what I said? ‘Lose’ instead of ‘use.’ Does that mean...why am I suddenly so nervous and afraid? I wish I had been more firm about not wearing a wedding gown and about not being married in a church. I wish that this ivory lace and satin was not so close to white as to almost be a travesty. I wish...”
“Well, my dear,” Lady Margery said mildly as Alexa took her third or fourth turn about the room with her voluminous skirts held up almost as high as her knees, “I must only hope for your sake then that you are not like some people, who do not want what they have wished for once they are sure of getting it, and that you are marrying this time for love and for no other reason.”
There were some things she could not bear to speak about even with as dear and as close a friend as Margery had become. How could she say: “I am afraid of love because I’ve seen and felt how it, or even the lack of it, can hurt. What good will it do me to admit I’m marrying for love if the man I’m marrying does not love me?” Alexa had always suffered from an excess of pride; and so she managed a smile and a noncommittal apology for her silly attack of nerves and appeared quite calm by the time Bridget came up to tell her that the carriages were ready and the Marquess of Newbury and his mother both awaited her downstairs.
“My love, you have nothing to worry about,” Lady Margery said reassuringly when she caught the suddenly unguarded expression on Alexa’s face. “You look perfectly lovely, and your bridal gown is the most exquisite creation in the world. Your...Newbury was quite right to insist that this must be a formal and very public wedding, you know. Edwin explained it all to me! They’ll all come to look and of course they’ll speculate, but that will be all, since you’ll have faced them down—all of you. And just think, within an hour or two you will have your rightful name to keep. You will be Lady Alexa Dameron, Viscountess Embry, and some day you will be the Marchioness of Newbury. I’m so glad everything turned out so perfectly this way, and you did not feel obliged to...well, that no innocent persons are being hurt. And it was almost too generous of you to make such a very large settlement on Lord Deering to pay his debts and keep him comfortably off just because you might have injured his feelings. Edwin didn’t approve of it, of course, but I reminded him that females are naturally more sensitive than men are, and that it is still your money after all. Oh, dear! I didn’t mean to keep you here listening to my chattering...!”
Everything taken care of—Alexa had an excuse to remain silent behin
d her Mechlin lace veil, which was embroidered with seed pearls to match her headdress. And time to think, before they had reached the church; although perhaps trying not to think would be not only preferable but wiser if she wished to retain her composure.
They were all silent. The Marquess and Alexa in one carriage, and the Dowager Marchioness and Lady Margery in another.
It was clever of her to choose Embry over Charles in the end, Adelina thought. The chit was quite clever after all. Power, she had said. But the old queen wasn’t dead yet and they needed her support. It had been her clever suggestion that Alexa should settle an income on Charles to keep him quiet as well as indebted. And at least the girl had brains enough to realize she needed advice as well as public backing in order to build up a facade of respectability. Power by proxy—why not? She could make her help and her guidance more and more necessary until in the end it would be her influence that would prevail. And sooner or later she would see to it that the incongruous friendship Alexa had formed with Lady Margery would dwindle off into a casual acquaintance.
The Dowager straightened her back and pretended to adjust the plumes on her elegant bonnet. Most important of all, she must try to make sure that Alexa never became weak enough to be influenced or ruled by her husband; and being a woman of decision, the Marchioness had already taken several steps in that direction without letting Newbury know anything about it. Oh no—he might have frightened her with his threats in the beginning, but she was far from finished yet!
“And here we are!” Lady Margery said with forced brightness, for she had never trusted nor cared for Adelina. “Goodness, it seems as if we’re back at the height of the season, doesn’t it? All the carriages!”
There was a larger crowd of hangers-on than usual waiting to see the bride, perhaps because it had turned out to be such a surprisingly clear and balmy day for late autumn. A ragged cheer went up when a splendid-looking equipage finally came to a smart halt; and again when the bride herself appeared. “Coo, ain’t she a beauty!” “Did you get to see her face, Jenny?” “Never saw such a pretty dress in all my life, I’m sure!”
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