Chapter 13
April 3-4, 1814
“You are going with me?” Natalya echoed in disbelief. She recovered herself quickly and began walking toward Mrs. Sykes’s house, laughing as if amused. “I can assure you, Mr. St. James, that such drastic measures are unnecessary. I am perfectly capable—”
“I know, I know,” he sighed, matching her pace. “I believe I may have memorized your speech about just how capable you are. Unfortunately there’s no getting around this. You are going to have to endure my company for a few more weeks, I fear, because we will be sailing to America on board my schooner, the Wild Rover.”
“Is there no other way for me to travel?”
Grey shrugged. “Britain is at war with America, so there is risk involved in any sea voyage between the two countries. I feel responsible for your safety, whether that pleases you or not.” He paused. “I also have some personal reasons of my own for making this journey, not the least of which is a desire to be at sea again. The Rover has scarcely left the river Thames in four years.”
“This is not the plan I expected,” Natalya declared.
“Cheer up, my dear. It won’t last forever. I’ll be out of your life before spring wanes.” With that, he lifted the knocker on the front door just as a hack drew up with Mrs. Sykes, Adrienne, and Venetia Hedgecoe inside.
“I nearly forgot,” Natalya whispered. “We couldn’t have gotten in. She has no live-in servants. She only hires them when someone is coming to visit—for appearances, you understand.”
Looking extremely vexed, Mrs. Sykes charged up the footpath, the two girls in tow. Adrienne’s curls were disheveled, and when she nearly bumped into Grey, he could smell the champagne on her.
“You had better have some very good reasons for causing such mayhem on this of all nights, my lord,” Mrs. Sykes barked as she turned the key in the lock.
“Oh, my behavior was justified,” he replied, with heavy irony. “I’ll be interested to learn if you can justify your own conduct.”
She led the way into a dark, narrow parlor and set about lighting several candelabra on pedestals entwined with garlands. Temporarily diverted, Grey looked around the room in fascination. The windows were hung with drapes of crimson brocade embellished with golden tassels, and there was a Turkey carpet on the floor that exemplified the worst taste of its kind. He was further intrigued by the furniture, which consisted of green-striped couches with crocodile legs, lyre-back chairs, tables inlaid with marble and covered with dubious objects d’art, and footstools on lion legs, also glossily striped.
“Perhaps your lordship is unfamiliar with the current styles,” Mrs. Sykes said defensively, noting his expression.
“That’s true,” he replied. “I had no opportunity to become acquainted with crocodile-legged couches while in prison.” A smile played briefly about the corners of his mouth.
“It’s an Egyptian influence,” the older woman proclaimed, slurring the words slightly. Then she turned to her charges. “Girls, you may leave us.”
“No,” Grey said, his expression hardening. “I prefer that the young ladies remain. Let us sit down.”
Natalya was surprised to discover that she enjoyed the sense that Grey was deftly in command of the situation, just as he had been that harrowing night in St. Malo. For some reason, his confident manner was reassuring rather than irritating. Ever since she had first arrived at this house the previous day, she had been trying to puzzle out a solution to her cousin’s obviously unacceptable situation. Now she was grateful to be able to turn the matter over to Grey St. James.
Mrs. Sykes began to protest that he had no right to give orders in her home, but the steely ice of his stare silenced her. She perched on the edge of a lyre-backed chair, peacock feathers slightly askew and her painted lips smeared, while the young ladies seated themselves on one of the squat crocodile-legged couches. Adrienne wore an expression that mingled defiance with grudging admiration for this rakish nobleman. Venetia, flushed and dizzy from too much champagne, looked frightened. Natalya sat next to her cousin and endeavored to appear as serious and adult as possible.
“First of all,” Grey said coldly, “I have to say that I have rarely encountered a matter more shocking than this. Mrs. Sykes, I know that you have not only removed these girls from the safety of their school without their parents’ knowledge, but you have proceeded to sell introductions to them among the demimonde, setting the stage for them to become involved in illicit love affairs. Because of you, their lives and reputations could have been ruined... and your only motive was financial gain. You may cover these goings-on with a veneer of false respectability, but this arrangement makes you no better than the madam of a bordello.”
Mrs. Sykes gasped in horror, and the girls went white.
Grey continued, “You grew overbold because these young ladies were completely innocent, without any notion of what was truly behind your supposed kindness. Perhaps you even convinced yourself that you were doing them a favor? Was that your motive tonight for selling introductions to Natalya?”
Though she was shaking visibly, Mrs. Sykes drew herself up. “Authoress or no, she’s been on the vine far too long, and I only thought to help her a bit by bringing her along to the duke’s rout, where she could mingle with men. They all know that my girls are beautiful, well mannered, and—”
“You speak of them as if they were your merchandise,” Grey cut in harshly. “Adrienne and Miss Hedgecoe are still young enough to have parents who are responsible for them and make decisions for their well-being. If Nicholai Beauvisage knew what you were up to with his daughter, he’d have you tossed in prison!”
“But, my lord!” she cried shrilly.
“I have neither the time nor the inclination to argue this matter farther,” he said, looking out the window. His face was even more forbidding in profile. Slowly he drew off his gloves and turned back to capture Mrs. Sykes’s fearful gaze. “Tomorrow morning, Adrienne Beauvisage and Miss Hedgecoe will return to... uh....”
“Miss Harrington’s Seminary for the Daughters of Gentlemen,” Natalya supplied, biting back a smile.
“Exactly. I cannot imagine how that title could have slipped my mind.” He gave her a grin that flashed for an instant before he schooled his features into an expression of dangerous intent, and addressed Mrs. Sykes. “I will have a carriage sent round at eleven o’clock to collect them and all their possessions, and I will personally escort them back into Miss Harrington’s care.”
“But,” Venetia whispered fearfully, “we have no money to pay Miss Harrington, and if I were to explain to Papa...” She dissolved into hiccupping tears.
Grey crossed the parlor and touched her golden curls. “I shall take care of this matter for the remainder of your term, Miss Hedgecoe. Your parents need not learn of this—if you make me a solemn vow not to engage in folly of this sort again as long as you rely upon your parents for financial support and moral guidance. Do we have an agreement?”
Venetia nodded madly through her tears. Grey looked at Adrienne, who watched silently and now gave him a rather more sulky nod.
“It really wasn’t necessary for you to interfere, my lord,” she murmured.
Natalya spoke up, outraged. “Adrienne Beauvisage, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! If Uncle Nicky had seen you tonight, he would have tied you up and carried you back to France forever. You should be grateful to Mr. St. James for extricating you from this monstrous coil.”
“And what would Papa have said if he had seen you at the rout tonight?” Adrienne couldn’t resist asking.
“That is not the issue,” her cousin cried. “I was looking after you!”
“Really?” Adrienne’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“That’s enough,” Grey cut in roughly. “I suggest that you young ladies retire for the night and pray that you are spared what could be the extremely ill aftereffects of the champagne you drank. Be grateful that you’ve been saved from untimely ravishment at the hands of one of your admirers. You could well have found yourselves in a strange bed on the morrow rather than safely returned to school, where girls of your age and breeding belong.”
“You seem to be quite an expert on the subject of ravishing innocent maidens,” Adrienne said petulantly, but dropped her eyes in the face of his stormy glare.
Natalya, shocked by her young cousin’s behavior, exclaimed, “Yes, let us go up to bed! I for one am very grateful for Mr. St. James’s help tonight. I only hope that it’s the champagne that has made you so unforgivably insolent, Adrienne.” As she led the two girls from the parlor, she looked back to find Grey staring at her.
“I will see you tomorrow, too.” he said. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
Natalya gave him a bleak smile. “I feared as much....”
* * *
“Why did that horrid man have to bring you to London and take it upon himself to meddle in my life? He may be handsomer than Byron, but he’s odiously arrogant!” Adrienne wailed as she tossed a muslin chemise into her hastily packed trunk. “I was having such fun!”
Natalya stood in front of the bedroom windows that overlooked Bennett Street. Sunlight haloed her upswept honey-gold curls and white-and-lemon-striped gown, but the look on her face was far from angelic. “Adrienne Beauvisage, I am shocked by your attitude! What would your mother say if she could hear you? Certainly I can understand that you might be led astray by the more adult pleasures of London, particularly since you have spent most of your life at Chateau du Soleil, but you must have enough sense to see that Mrs. Sykes had introduced you to a darker world that would have meant your ruin.”
“You’re just too cowardly to seize life with both hands, Talya. You might as well have been locked up at Miss Harrington’s Seminary yourself all these years for all the living you’ve done.” Adrienne tossed a velvet spencer atop the pile of garments in the trunk and then collapsed onto a chair as if exhausted by her labors. “Why, I’ll wager that if a real man, with hot blood and warm lips, tried to kiss you, you’d run away like a frightened fawn!”
Maddeningly Natalya felt herself flush, then sneeze. “You shouldn’t speak of such things, Adrienne.”
“Why not? Because it’s true? How can you write about love and passion if you’ve never experienced it yourself? Honestly, Talya, I begin to fear that you’ll die a maiden, untouched and unawakened!”
“I may not want to marry, but that does not mean—” Natalya broke off hastily. “You’re far too precocious, cousin, and far too naughty. It will do no good to taunt and upset me simply because you cannot have your own way. Mr. St. James will be here shortly, and I will be able to leave for America with peace of mind knowing that you are safely back in school.” She bent down next to Adrienne’s chair, then sneezed again into a lawn handkerchief. “Goodness, I do hope I didn’t contract an illness at that horrid rout. Now, don’t sulk, Adrienne. You should enjoy your youth while it lasts, and dream of the time when you will be properly presented in society. By then your parents should be able to travel here to be with you during your first Season. Be patient, my dear.”
Her cousin gave her a gentler smile and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “All right, I’ll try to behave. I am sorry if I’ve been a brat to you. I know you love me and have been worried about me.” She sighed. “It’s just that I do so enjoy having fun, and there’s none of that at Miss Harrington’s Seminary.”
Natalya smoothed back her cousin’s chestnut curls. “You’re a Beauvisage through and through, but hopefully you’ll gain a measure of judgment as you grow older. And, the time will pass. Maman always says that pleasure postponed is pleasure enhanced.”
A gleam of mischief appeared in Adrienne’s green eyes. “And how long do you intend to postpone your pleasure, dear cousin?”
* * *
“Egad, what a day this has been!” Grey St. James expostulated. “I thought I’d never see those girls safely back in the care of Miss Harrington. The Beauvisage girl forgot to pack all her slippers and we had to go back, and then her trunk came open when we unloaded it at the school. The little vixen had the nerve to smile, as if she were enjoying my efforts to hold my temper. God go with the man who dares to wed her!”
Gib sipped his friend’s excellent brandy and gazed around the darkened bedchamber. There was a great deal of activity going on, particularly in Grey’s dressing room, where Jasper Speed was packing for his master’s voyage to America and a succession of young housemaids were bustling in and out with freshly laundered and pressed clothing. Grey and Gib sat on the two chairs near the bedchamber’s windows, drinking brandy as if to cushion themselves from the hubbub.
“So, you’re really going?” Gib murmured.
“I’m afraid so.” Grey gave him a weary smile and loosened his cravat. “I spent the early morning on board the Rover, conferring with Fedbusk and assuring myself that all the preparations could be made in time to set sail tomorrow. I can’t see that I’ve missed anything. I’ve even enlisted Dimbleby’s assistance in finding a ladies’ maid for Miss Beauvisage. We’re going to nip one of the housekeeper’s best maids. Mrs. Thistle won’t like it, but she won’t know until the girl is gone.” He used the candle on the table between them to light a cheroot and closed his eyes. “It’s been a devil of a day. In fact, my life seems to have been one long ordeal ever since I arrived back in London. Quite the opposite of what I expected....”
Gib’s face looked longer than ever as he pursed his lips and studied his gaunt-looking friend. It seemed that all this talk of trunks coming open and meetings with Fedbusk and plots to steal the Earl of Hartford’s kitchen maid was merely a diversion from the real issue.
“Old chap, you don’t really expect to find Francesca in Philadelphia, do you?” he asked softly.
Grey’s hooded eyes opened a fraction. “To be perfectly honest, I haven’t considered the matter at length. I simply know that I must make the effort before I can put the past to rest.”
“I realize that it’s none of my affair, but I can’t help wondering how much this sudden journey has to do with that stunner you forcibly removed from the rout last night.”
“Miss Beauvisage and I do not get on at all, if that’s what you’re hinting at,” Grey replied in carefully even tones, closing his eyes again. “She’s a thorn in my side, and the only way I can rid myself of her honorably is to fulfill my obligation and deliver her to her home in Philadelphia. And there’s no time to waste. You saw what happened when I left her alone for one day here in London.”
Gib thought there was more to it than that, but he refrained from saying so. “You are coming back, though?” he asked suddenly. “From America, I mean.”
Drawing on his cheroot, St. James gave him a charming smile. “Why would I not? What would possibly keep me there once I’ve relieved myself of the prickly burden of Natalya Beauvisage and made my inquiries about Francesca?” What Grey didn’t say, and could scarcely bear to think, was that there was little left in London to return to. In his present state of mind, it was easier to sail away to America than remain in England and fumble with the pieces of a new life.
Dimbleby appeared in the doorway. “His lordship has returned from the theater, Lord Grey, and is preparing to retire for the night.”
“Thank you. I’ll go to him now and make my farewells.” Grey drank down the remainder of his brandy, stubbed out his cheroot in a candy dish, and stood up. “Don’t mean to toss you out, Gib, but it’s long past midnight and I have an appointment at dawn.”
Gib struggled awkwardly to his feet and embraced his friend, surprised to feel the sudden sting of tears. “I’ll miss you, old fellow. Godspeed.”
“No cause for sadness. I’ll be back before you know it, and I’ve no doubt that you’ll be far too involved in this business of courtship and betrothal and God knows what else to notice my absence. Take care of yourself... and thank you.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “If not for you, I would have felt positively unloved and abandoned these past days.”
The words were spoken in a light-hearted tone, but Osgood Gibson recognized the undercurrent of emotion in Grey’s voice. They walked into the hallway together and parted at the stairway as Grey went on to his father’s suite of rooms at the other end of the house. Gib raised his hand in a last farewell, wondering at the vagaries of fate that had dealt his comrade such an unfriendly hand of late. The future was even more uncertain, but as Gib descended Hartford House’s splendid staircase, he hoped that Grey would find a measure of joy and fulfillment in the adventures that stretched before him.
* * *
“Ah, there you are, dear boy,” the Earl of Hartford remarked, with his usual air of mild regret, when he saw his son standing in the doorway to his bedchamber. Chester, the earl’s manservant, was helping him out of his old-fashioned cutaway coat, and Grey saw that his father looked thinner and more frail without it. “I thought perhaps you’d left.”
Grey blinked. “Left?”
“Gone off to one of those house parties in the country or whatever it is young people do these days to amuse themselves,” his lordship replied, waving a hand. He turned to his manservant and said querulously, “Go to bed! You hover like an old woman!”
Chester, who was accustomed to such abuse after thirty years in the earl’s employ, merely bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Grey thought that his father appeared extremely fatigued, wavering slightly as he struggled with the buttons on his waistcoat.
“Father, I know that it’s late, but could you spare me a moment of your time? Perhaps we could sit down.”
The earl eased himself onto his favorite wing chair, clutching the arms, and waited as Grey perched on the edge of the mammoth Tudor bed.
“I’ve been to see that Kean fellow perform,” Hartford remarked. “I’m not at all certain what the fuss is about.”
“Edmund Kean? They say he’s brilliant.” Grey sighed and pushed aside the frayed bedhangings of blue velvet that brushed against him. Every time he tried to converse with his father, he felt as if there were an impenetrable wall of glass between them. “Father, I’m sailing tomorrow to America on the Wild Rover.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose so,” the earl replied. “Doubtless it is dull for you here. I find it dull myself.”
“That’s not precisely why I’m going. I have an obligation to fulfill; I’ve promised to deliver the daughter of your friend Alexandre Beauvisage to Philadelphia.”
The old man’s ice blue eyes warmed for an instant. “Beauvisage? Such a long time ago. I suppose he must be dead by now.”
“Actually I don’t think so—” Grey broke off, seeing that the earl wasn’t listening. “Father, is there anything that I can do for you before I go?”
“Whatever can you mean?” He waved his thin hand dismissingly. “I manage very well on my own, dear boy, and you must do as you please.”
A heavy sigh swelled in Grey’s chest as he stood and held out his hand to the earl. “Good-bye, then, Father.”
Hartford gazed longingly toward his bed. “Good-bye, dear boy. Do visit me when you are next in London.”