Chapter 17
“Good morning, Miss Glow. I hope you slept well . . . Eep!”
Gloriana jolted awake. They must have slept for hours! She sat up, mortified, and clutched the coverlet to her nakedness. Beside her, Philippe opened an eye.
Elspeth blushed red as a strawberry, but her voice retained its usual asperity. “Well! It’s about time.” She plunked the tray with Gloriana’s morning chocolate on the dressing table, when usually she would have brought it to the bed. A jug of hot water was also on the tray, but she didn’t move it to the washstand. “But for the sake of others, Miss Glow, you might have considered locking your door.”
“I daresay I would have done so,” Gloriana retorted, her own color rising, “if I’d been expecting Monsieur de Bellechasse to climb in through my window.”
“Tsk.” Elspeth had retreated to the door, but now she turned just enough to face Gloriana while determinedly avoiding the sight of Philippe. She didn’t specify whether the ‘tsk’ was for such a dangerous method of entering or for entering at all.
Philippe smiled at Elspeth without a sign of gêne. He looked handsome, contented, and smug, which was frightfully unfair. Gloriana had just as much reason for contentment—perhaps even smugness—yet all she felt was awkward.
“Good morning, Elspeth,” Philippe said. “We all agree that it’s about time, but tell me, what time is it?”
“Good morning, sir.” The maid still didn’t look directly at him. “It’s nine o’clock of a fine spring morning, and how we’re to get you out of the house without being seen is beyond me.”
“I don’t care who sees him,” Gloriana said. “We’ll be married soon anyway.”
“I should hope so.” Elspeth unbent enough to move the jug of hot water to the washstand, but she didn’t venture near the bed.
“I’ll leave by the area stairs.” Philippe yawned. “Maybe your footman and I can seem to be servants on an errand. I’ll go procure a special license tout de suite . . .” He paused. “It will be a busy day. I have already hired actors to serve as decoys tonight, but I must make arrangements with Freddy Barnham, as well as with Lady Marianne, Mr. Turner, and a few others.” He raised himself on his elbows, and Elspeth yelped at the imminent exposure of bare male chest.
He waved her away. “Off you go. Can the cook give us breakfast in fifteen minutes or so? Nothing elaborate, just something quick and simple. I’ll need you to join us, as you must get in touch with Mr. Turner.”
“Yes, sir. Kindly assist Miss Glow to dress, as I certainly cannot do so under the circumstances.” She whisked herself out and shut the door.
“With pleasure,” Philippe murmured, “although I had hoped to spend a little time undressed this morning. Did you sleep well, ma belle?” He smiled, and Gloriana’s heart turned over.
“You look far too handsome in this tousled state,” she grumped.
“I shall not speak about what your beauty does to me, for it is sufficiently obvious.” She glanced down, gasped at the little tent in the coverlet, and hoped to God Elspeth hadn’t noticed. He took her hand and kissed it, and a bolt of desire shot through her. She blushed, and he added, “A pity I didn’t specify half an hour till breakfast—but I would rather our next lovemaking be slow, lazy, and erotic in the extreme.”
“Philippe, that is not helpful!”
He laughed, got out of bed, and quickly donned his clothing, giving her far too little time to ogle him. She found a shift and corset, and he laced it up for her. Soon she was dressed in an old morning gown.
Next came the ordeal of going downstairs. What must the servants think of her wanton behavior? Elspeth wouldn’t discuss it with them, but even if they didn’t realize Philippe had spent the night there, his presence at breakfast would give rise to speculation. A Warren can do no wrong, she told herself, but this particular dictum of her mother’s had been wishful thinking, as the Warrens were known for misbehavior.
They ran the gauntlet of no one except Gregory, who treated Philippe with cautious deference, and found Elspeth setting the table in the dining room. Two steaming dishes of scrambled eggs and sausage already awaited them, along with a wedge of cheese.
“In case you were uneasy, Miss Glow, I informed the staff that you and Monsooer are to marry.” This explained Gregory’s attitude, as he was anticipating a new master. “They are all very happy for you.”
“Thank you, Elspeth.” Gloriana took her place at the table. She took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart. Why was she so overwrought? She should be happy and at peace and at ease and . . .
Elspeth left to bring the toast and coffee, and Philippe sat next to Gloriana, taking her hand. “You are anxious, but do not be. All will be well.”
Fine for him to say, but he was about to commit a crime, and meanwhile . . . “I’m just not accustomed to . . . this. To you and me.” She took another deep breath. “It will take a little time.”
Philippe took a plate and served her eggs and sausage. “It is indeed strange to be in such harmony with one another. Perhaps we should dispute a little—to become more comfortable.”
“Never,” Gloriana said. “I couldn’t bear another dispute with you.”
He laughed. “Not just a tiny one, so you will feel more at ease?” He cut a corner off the cheese and tasted it. “Tsk. One day we shall go to France and eat real cheese.”
“This is excellent Lancashire cheese from my brother’s estate!” she retorted.
He chuckled. “Voilà, our first dispute.” He served them both some of the sharp, crumbly cheese. “I like your Elspeth. She has your interests at heart.”
“Yes, I shall miss her very much,” Gloriana said.
He helped himself to sausage and egg. “Why should you miss her?”
“Because she is my dearest friend, and she’s going to leave me.”
He took a forkful of eggs. “Why? She seems devoted to you.”
“Yes, but she intends to wed Mr. Turner. The reward for helping us get the Book of Hours means he can quit Lord Hythwick’s employ, and he will have the money to become a tailor or innkeeper or some such. She will be much happier as a wife than as a lady’s maid, so I must be happy for her.” She toyed with her eggs.
Meanwhile, Philippe savored his breakfast as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Tiens, what superb sausage! I must send a message to the cook. Why shouldn’t a lady’s maid also be a wife?"
“It’s not usual,” she said. “I expect that’s mostly because marriage means children, and caring for them would prevent her from doing her work. But I would keep Elspeth anyway if I could.” But what was the use of wishing? She took a bite of the sausage. It was one of Cook’s homemade special sausages, not the rather bland sort from the butcher. She shouldn’t read anything into that—Cook couldn’t have known ahead of time that she would make breakfast for the future master of the house—but somehow it cheered her anyway.
“Do not worry about that, either. All will be well.”
Exasperated, she almost snapped at him, but Elspeth came into the room again, shut the door, then poured coffee for them all and took a seat at the table.
“You’re not eating?” Philippe asked.
“No, sir, I broke my fast two hours ago,” Elspeth scoffed. “I don’t lie abed of a morning.”
“That may change after you marry your Mr. Turner,” he said.
She colored. “He’s not a slug-a-bed either,” she retorted and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir. I spoke without thinking.”
Gloriana laughed. “Elspeth is accustomed to speaking her mind with me.”
“I am glad to see she has no difficulty doing the same with me,” Philippe said. “That means we shall get along well.”
An emotion, which Gloriana wished might be sadness but which she couldn’t identify, flitted across the maid’s face. Gloriana waited for her to say that she wouldn’t be staying with them long, but evidently Elspeth thought it wasn’t the right moment, for she merely said, “Might we get on with the planning, sir? For I’d best be getting back to work soon, or the other servants will wonder.”
“And I’d best be on my way,” Philippe said as he outlined the plan.
~ ~ ~
At three o’clock in the afternoon, Gloriana and Elspeth pottered about in the nursery on the road to Islington. The location was Gloriana’s idea—a place on the road to the north where respectable ladies might choose to shop but were unlikely to meet their friends and acquaintances. They were followed about by an obsequious little man asking questions about the garden she had no intention of planting. She did her best to imitate her sister-in-law, who had managed to take over direction of the rose garden at Garrison House without upsetting the head gardener. Not that Gloriana cared about upsetting this particular person, although maybe she should—he was only doing his job, after all. The other customers at the moment consisted of laborers fetching baskets of cut flowers to sell in Town, so lesser clerks were able to deal with them.
It occurred to her that she might make actual use of the nursery, so at least the obsequious man wouldn’t have wasted his time. “Setting my house in Town aside, perhaps you could advise me about another project,” she said, and went on to describe the school in Islington, the tiny garden in front and the larger one behind, the necessity of planting a few herbs as well as flowers, the hope of instilling in the boys a respect for growing things, and so on.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the arrival of a coach and four with the crest of Freddy Barnham’s father on the door. Shades covered the windows, but hopefully it contained three passengers—two actors bearing a superficial resemblance to Freddy and Marianne, the third being Freddy himself. She turned to watch it pass—no, Freddy was on the box with the coachman. He spread his hands in the obvious question—Is she here?—to which Gloriana shook her head. The coach rolled on and disappeared around a corner.
Where in God’s name were Lady Marianne and her aunt? She wished she could have called on Marianne and made sure she came to the rendezvous, but Philippe had insisted she must not seem in any way connected with the elopement. He feared that Hythwick would seek vengeance on her as well as him, and therefore the meeting at the nursery must appear to be a chance one.
Gloriana had a feeling Hythwick would soon hate her anyway, but she acquiesced.
At last! An elegant barouche turned into the nursery yard. Gloriana pretended to be absorbed in the array of herbs. The nurseryman dithered—two wealthy clients at once! But this one was clearly more important, having arrived in a vehicle with a crest on the panel.
“If you might excuse me for a moment, ma’am, while I direct one of my assistants to advise you further?”
This gave Gloriana a reason to turn and notice Lady Marianne and Mrs. Apsley stepping down from the barouche. “What a pleasant surprise!” She trod forward, smiling. “My dear girl, has springtime prompted you to plant a garden too? Or are you the garden enthusiast, ma’am?”
Thus, she avoided directly identifying the new arrivals. The less that was known to the nursery folk, the less the gossips would learn.
“Not I,” Mrs. Apsley said. “My niece has taken into her head an unaccountable desire to plant window boxes.”
“Flowers cheer me up,” Marianne said, “and I’ve been so dreadfully unhappy lately.” Her color fluctuated wildly—no doubt from anticipation—but behind it, she was almost as wan as yesterday.
“Now, now, enough of that—” her aunt began.
“My brother will be sorry when he sees me go into a decline,” Marianne said with a convincing pout.
“Flowers are an excellent remedy for low spirits.” Gloriana struggled not to watch for Freddy’s coach. “I’m sure this knowledgeable fellow can give you the best of advice about which to choose.”
The nurseryman stepped forward, bowing and scraping, but Marianne’s attention had flown elsewhere. The coach and four pulled up, blocking the entrance to the nursery yard, and Freddy jumped down.
Marianne dashed across the yard and flung herself into his arms. He whirled her about and kissed her.
“Marianne!” her aunt cried. “This is most improper.” She bustled after them. “Freddy, you should be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of my innocent niece in such a public situation.”
So much for not identifying the fleeing couple.
“That’s the least of your worries today, ma’am,” Freddy said. He opened the coach door and Marianne scrambled inside. He followed suit and slammed it shut before her aunt could utter another word. If the actor and actress were also in the coach, they stayed well out of view of the door.
The coach sped away. Mrs. Apsley gaped at it. “Oh, heavens! Oh, mercy me! Whatever shall I do?”
Gloriana put an arm around her. “Calm down, dear ma’am. Is there someplace we might sit for a moment or two?” she asked the nurseryman.
He guided them to a bench, trying to mask his curiosity with a bland face. Gloriana helped the trembling Mrs. Apsley to sit.
“Might I offer refreshment?” the man asked. “A bracing cup of tea?”
“Yes,” Gloriana said, “that would be most welcome.”
“No!” Mrs. Apsley cried, “I must go after them. Freddy cannot be allowed to drive her about in a closed carriage, completely unchaperoned.”
Gloriana motioned to Elspeth, who bore the man away to fetch the tea.
“Whatever has got into Freddy to behave so badly?” Mrs. Apsley said.
“I should think that’s obvious, ma’am,” Gloriana said.
After a bewildered pause, the elderly lady’s eyes widened. “You think they have eloped?” Her voice rose to a bleat on that last, dreadful word. “Surely not!”
“The coach headed toward the Great North Road,” Gloriana said. “And we both know that Freddy wishes to marry Marianne. Since Lord Hythwick’s refusal to allow it is based only on spite, it’s hardly surprising that Freddy has taken matters into his own hands.”
Mrs. Apsley rose hurriedly, hands clasped to her heaving chest. “I must go after them. I must catch them before Alvin learns of this.”
“You can’t go after them in the barouche. It has only two horses to their four. You’ll never catch up, and even if you do, how can you possibly stop Freddy?” She put an arm around the elderly lady. “Sit down, ma’am, and try to compose yourself.”
Tears glistened in Mrs. Apsley’s eyes, but she allowed herself to be guided back to the bench. “How could Marianne take such a scandalous step? She used to be such a sweet, biddable girl. It’s all Freddy’s fault, and now he has cozened her into fleeing with him, for she would never think of taking such a step on her own. Her brother forbade her to speak to him, and he has been proven right.” She dabbed at the tears with her gloved hand.
Gloriana dug in her reticule for a handkerchief and handed it to Mrs. Apsley. “Here comes my maid with the tea, and although she is very discreet, the nurseryman may hear. The best we can hope for is to hush it all up.” She took the tea from Elspeth and motioned her to keep the nurseryman away.
“How? It will be all over London in no time.” Mrs. Apsley took the cup with shaking hands and sipped. She made a face. “This is dreadful stuff.”
“I expect so, but he’s a nurseryman, not an earl.” Gloriana retrieved the tea from Mrs. Apsley. “Perhaps we can prevent the elopement. I believe your best course is to drive back to Town and inform his lordship. If he hurries, he may be able to catch them before it is too late.”
“Yes! You’re absolutely right, Miss Warren. I shall leave immediately.” She tottered toward the barouche.
“I’ll come with you.” Heroically, Gloriana drank the tea and handed the cup to her maid. “Thank the poor man, Elspeth, order some plants, and have them delivered to the school.” She hastened after Mrs. Apsley, who was already clambering in with the help of the groom. Gloriana climbed in after her, and they were off.
“It’s most kind of you to come,” Mrs. Apsley said. “I am quite, quite overset.”
“There, there.” Gloriana patted her hand. “I daresay his lordship will succeed in catching them. He has access to the best of coaches and horses.” She paused. “And if he doesn’t, he will have to countenance the marriage.”
“He will never do so, Miss Warren,” the elderly lady whispered. “He was adamantly against it.”
“True, but he is just as adamant about avoiding scandal.”
“Yes, which is why I’m astonished at . . . Oh, dear me.” She flushed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned . . .”
“That he is flirting so scandalously with me, when everyone knows he won’t marry me?”
“It isn’t at all like him,” Mrs. Apsley said. “Usually, he is discreet about satisfying his animal urges. Meanwhile, the gossips are saying you will try to entrap him into marriage by becoming his mistress.”
“What nonsense! Just because I was a little indiscreet about dancing with him too often!”
“I am relieved to hear that,” Mrs. Apsley said. “I know you and your family don’t care much about gossip, being steeped in scandal already, but the Delphins never deviate from strict propriety. I can only conclude that my nephew has gone slightly mad with, er . . .” She paused, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Dear me, I am not myself just now, or I would not speak of such matters before an unmarried lady.”
“I’m not a child,” Gloriana said. “I understand the concept of unbridled lust, although the reality sounds quite dreadful. I must confess that I don’t understand why, when there are plenty of courtesans about who would welcome his custom, he must direct his base desires at me instead.” She could almost see the ears of the coachman and footman twitching at this conversation. She had to bite back a grin. They would enjoy recounting it in the servants’ quarters tonight.
All too soon they arrived at Hythwick House. Mrs. Apsley had calmed somewhat during the ride, but now her face crumpled, and she wailed, “What shall I do? He will be so angry with me!”
“Hush, ma’am. Surely he won’t blame it on you.” Yes, it would be just like Hythwick to take out his rage on a helpless old lady. Poor Mrs. Apsley was shaking all over and had to be lifted down by the footman. Philippe would be furious, but she couldn’t let her face that tyrant alone. She took Mrs. Apsley’s arm and helped her into the house.
“Is Lord Hythwick at home?” she demanded of the butler. “This is an emergency.”
“No, miss,” the butler said. “I believe he’s at his club.”
Gloriana let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized, until now, that she was rather afraid of Hythwick herself. “He must be sent for immediately. Please ring for Mrs. Apsley’s maid, and also get me pen, ink, and paper. I shall write a note to his lordship.”
“Very good, miss,” the butler said, while Gloriana helped the elderly lady to a chair in the vestibule.
In a few minutes her maid arrived, clucking and fussing, and with her Mr. Turner.
“Lady Marianne has eloped with Mr. Barnham, and Mrs. Apsley is greatly overset,” Gloriana said. “Put her to bed and give her a composer—perhaps even something to make her sleep—to keep his lordship from taking out his temper on her.”
“Aye, miss, I’ll do that,” the maid said grimly and helped her mistress up the stairs.
Mr. Turner motioned Gloriana into an anteroom. “I beg your pardon, Miss Warren, but you oughtn’t to have come into this house. What if the master had been here?”
“I know, I know, but I couldn’t abandon Mrs. Apsley. She is so afraid.” Gloriana made a mental note to carry her pistol in future.
“Your kind heart does you credit, miss,” the valet said, “but . . .” He lowered his voice. “My master sometimes speaks his thoughts in my presence.” He hesitated, clearly not wishing to clarify, and settled on, “His most vile and disgusting ones.”
She shuddered. “I’ll just write a short note and then leave.”
“Good, because I’d have to defend your honor, and I’d rather not hang for assaulting a peer.” Mr. Turner set out the writing materials. “What my Elspeth and your marquis will say about this, I dread to hear.”
“Then don’t tell them,” she said briskly, and sat at an occasional table to write the note.
Dear Lord Hythwick,
It is with regret that I convey to you the devastating news that your sister has eloped with Mr. Barnham. She was at the nursery on the Islington Road with Mrs. Apsley, when Mr. Barnham rode up in a chaise-and-four. Lady Marianne went willingly into the vehicle, and they drove away, headed for the Great North Road. Since I happened to be at the nursery at the time, choosing plants for the school, I accompanied Mrs. Apsley home. She is prostrate with anxiety and distress, and therefore charged me with writing this note. She begs that you will return with all haste. Perhaps there is yet time to catch the runaways and avoid a most dreadful scandal.
She signed her name, shook sand over the paper, and passed it to the valet, who glanced over it with a hint of a smile, then folded it and affixed a wafer. “I’ll take it to him myself.”
Her role in today’s charade was over, and as for the evening, Sophie and Mr. Alexander were to play bo-peep this time, while Gloriana was to attend Alice Stowe’s salon as if nothing were amiss. How tedious and nerve-wracking, for what if the burglary went awry?
At least she wouldn’t have to face Lord Hythwick again tonight.
Nevertheless, this reminded her that she should clean and load her pistol. She was in the breakfast room at the rear, performing this messy task, when Philippe walked into the room.
Flooded with joy, she sprang up. “I didn’t expect to see you today!”
He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and set it on the table. “Our special license.”
She flung herself into his arms, sure she appeared as foolishly besotted as Lady Marianne with her Freddy. “How did you manage that? I thought you were too busy planning for this evening.”
“I’m also too impatient to wait a moment longer than necessary to make you my wife.” He kissed her thoroughly. “Tomorrow at the church in Islington. Sophie and Mr. Alexander will be there, and I hope Elspeth will attend as well.”
He took a seat at the table and examined the pistol, admiring the silver chasing. “Quite a pretty weapon.”
“It is, isn’t it? All the Warren women are taught to shoot. My father gave me this one not long before he died, but Miles refused to teach me to use it until I was fifteen.”
“So you could have shot me that night at the summerhouse.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I could indeed, if I’d had a pocket to put it in. I was so angry with you—and yet so afraid that the gamekeeper had killed you. Oh, Philippe, I’m worried about tonight!”
“Do not be. As I hoped, Hythwick left in a rage—on horseback, without even a change of clothes. In case he catches up with the decoys quickly, we’ll go right after dark, well-armed, and be quick about it.”
“So early? Won’t you run a risk of being seen climbing up the drainpipe?”
He shook his head. “We’ll go in the front door like gentlemen.” He rolled his eyes at her gasp. “In disguise, chérie. We shall tie up whoever answers the door and leave a man on guard in case another servant appears—but most likely no one will. When the cat’s away the mice will play, so they’ll all be drinking and playing cards in the kitchen. Turner says the old lady has been dosed with laudanum and likely will sleep all night. We’ll fetch the book and be off.”
Meanwhile, Gloriana would sit home and fret . . . No, she wouldn’t.
“I know that stubborn expression. It is safer if you stay at home. Do not think to play bo-peep with that Bridge fellow.”
She raised her brows. “Surely you’re not jealous?”
“Of my only serious rival? Yes, of course I am.”
This was gratifying. “He is no longer a rival.” She wasn’t about to admit that he never really had been. “He is dining with the family of his betrothed tonight. She is the daughter of a wealthy merchant. I have promised to befriend her.”
“That is good news.”
“Yes, but since I cannot suborn him to play bo-peep, I’ll go to Alice Stowe’s salon instead and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary.”
Philippe looked as if he wanted to forbid her to go anywhere—but there was no good reason for that, with Hythwick galloping up the Great North Road. “D’accord, but bring this pistol with you.” His gaze assessed her, and he added, “For my peace of mind.”
“And what about my peace of mind tonight? Let’s forget the Book of Hours. Philippe, I would much, much rather do without it than lose you.”
“I am happy you have your priorities in the correct order, ma belle, but if you wanted to preserve my safety, you should not have presented me with such a tempting project. En tout cas, it would never do to let Lord Hythwick win.”
She couldn’t disagree with that, but . . .
He smiled ruefully. “I have sworn off a life of crime, but I am not a safe sort of man. You may not get much peace of mind married to me.”
“And vice versa,” she retorted. “I am not a peaceful sort of person either.”
“No, you are delightfully quarrelsome,” he said, leaning in for another kiss. “But please oblige me in this.”
“Very well, I shall.” After he left, she wondered why she had given in so easily. Something about her had changed greatly since last night.
Her only reticule large enough to accommodate the pistol as well as pins, handkerchief, and sundry other items didn’t match any of her evening gowns, so she spent an hour covering it with blue beads and some scraps of Chantilly lace.
Elspeth came into the boudoir and eyed it dubiously.
“You needn’t sniff at it,” Gloriana said. “It’s the only one big enough to fit my pistol.”
“You ought to have asked me to sew it for you,” Elspeth said. “You don’t have the patience for stitchery.”
“I didn’t want to inconvenience you,” Gloriana said.
“That’s what I’m here for, miss.” The maid bustled about. “Whatever do you want with a nasty pistol, may I ask, when you’re going to an evening party?”
“Nothing,” Gloriana said. “Philippe asked—no, he more or less ordered me to take it with me.”
“Then you should obey him,” Elspeth said.
Again, Gloriana was tempted to leave it behind. “I don’t know why. Lord Hythwick is out of town, and I’ll be in my own carriage, so I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Because if you obey him in such small matters, it will make it much easier to disobey him when necessary.”
“As you will obey or disobey Mr. Turner, depending on the situation?”
“Yes, indeed, miss. I can assure you that when I vow to obey him, I shall add in my mind ‘unless he orders me to do something contrary to my conscience or commonsense’. I’m sure God will agree with that amendment, for men are not infallible, however much they might wish to be, nor can they be expected to understand a woman’s mind.” A trace of emotion crossed her face. She took a deep breath. “Miss Glow, my Mr. Turner would like to become your Philippe’s valet.”
“He would?”
The maid shook out a celestial blue evening gown. “Yes, miss. He doesn’t want to be an innkeeper or a tailor or anything else.”
“And what about you, Elspeth?”
“I don’t wish to be a milliner or a dressmaker, if that’s what you mean.”
Gloriana frowned, not quite understanding, and took the plunge anyway. “I don’t want to lose you, Elspeth, but if you’re tired of being a servant, I understand.” She took a breath. “Or if you’re just tired of working for me.”
“Tsk,” Elspeth said. “You’re the best mistress ever and a good friend as well. But what about when I have children?”
For a long moment, Gloriana couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Elspeth considered her a friend! She hastened into speech. “If you’re too busy, I’ll get another maid and find something else for you to do.”
“That you certainly will not, miss.” Elspeth laid the gown tenderly on the bed. “No one knows how to take care of you as I do.” She paused. “I might accept an assistant, perhaps, to do the less exacting chores.”
“Oh, thank God.” Gloriana closed her eyes with relief. Everything was working out fine.