Chapter Sixteen

 

Dublin

 

Blair entered the cocktail party with Maeve on his arm. Jubilant to have him home, she vivaciously drew him with her as they greeted friends. She guided him to a young woman sitting with another lady.

“Blair, this is Lady Isabel, and her niece, Miss Davinna McGuiness. I’d like to introduce my son, Blair Dunleavy.”

Davinna smiled up at him, dimples peeping from porcelain cheeks. White-blonde ringlets framed her face, her wide blue eyes shyly smiling.

“Shall we leave you two young people together?” Maeve asked. She took the aunt’s arm. “Isabel and I have much to catch up on.”

Aware that he’d been manipulated, Blair smiled and sat down. Davinna listened intently to him, laughed at his playfulness, and called him droll. But when he came away, he realized he hadn’t learned anything about her. She was like a mirror reflecting him back on himself. She’d been brought up to please a man, as many of her class were. He found he didn’t want to be pleased, he wanted to be challenged. And above all, he wanted unfeigned honesty.

He took his leave of her, and restlessly prowled the room, hoping his mother would soon want to leave. He was anxious to be gone from here and from Ireland.

The night had turned cold as they entered the carriage. As they drove home, the heavy rain on the roof almost drowned out their words.

“Damned infernal climate,” Blair muttered, although he usually liked Irish weather.

“Did you enjoy the evening, Blair?” Maeve asked.

“A little dull I thought.”

“But Miss McGuiness is very charming, is she not?”

“Very. Mother, I’m returning to London.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

She pulled at her gloves, obviously annoyed with him. “You’ve been here little more than a week. And like a bear with a sore head the entire time.”

“I’ve been bad company. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you next time.”

“Well, I suppose you’ll tell me what this is all about in your own good time,” Maeve said. She shivered and pulled the collar of her velvet evening cloak up around her neck.

“You’ve been doing too much, Mother. You shouldn’t even be out in weather like this.”

The next morning, Blair sent a note to his staff at Dunleavy House, before departing for London. He wanted the house to look especially fine on his return. He instructed the maids to fill the rooms with yellow roses. As he made his way to his mother’s bedroom to say his farewells, Maeve’s maid intercepted him. “Your mother has been taken ill again, Mr. Dunleavy. The doctor’s been called.”

* * *

 

For three weeks Maeve hovered on the brink of death. Her fighting spirit won through again, and when the doctor told Blair the danger had passed, he installed her in the country house before departing for London, assured by her doctor that it was safe to leave her.

When Blair arrived at Hanover Square, he found the butler and the maids eating luncheon below stairs, along with the kitchen hand, while the cook carved a large joint of beef. After they’d been called into his study and closely questioned, he learned that Gina had left some time ago, a matter of which they’d failed to advise him.

Mary, Gina’s maid, appeared to be dressed in one of Gina’s new gowns. Blood pounded through his temples. “Downstairs, all of you!” He bellowed. They scurried back to the servant’s quarters.

Blair strode into the bedchamber and pulled open cupboard doors and drawers. Gina had taken none of the pretty things he’d given her. The money he left for her expenses remained in the drawer. He strode around the room feeling as if the top of his head might blow off, then he spied a dainty, pink satin slipper and picked it up. He rubbed the soft feathers against his cheek. His anger drained away, leaving his restless heart pounding, as questions crowded his mind. She’d left only days after he did. How had she managed without the money?

He knew she had very little. The thought that she was at the mercy of wicked old London made him gasp. Was she safe? He had to find her.

Angrier with himself than anyone else, he stormed downstairs to find the staff huddled, whispering in the kitchen. “You will find yourselves out on the street without a recommendation if you don’t tell me where Miss Russo has gone.”

They all talked at once. Blair held his hand up. “One at a time please.”

“Madam didn’t say where she was going,” the maid said. “She took a hansom and hasn’t been back, sir.”

That might help him find her. “Why are you wearing her dress, Mary?”

Mary flushed. “Miss Russo gave it me, sir.” She turned to the others for moral support. “Didn’t she?”

“She did sir. I heard her,” one of the maids said.

Whether they lied or told the truth didn’t matter a damn. He just wanted to find Gina. “I want order restored to the apartment by the time I return. I shall dine here tonight. You can finish the cold beef, but if you indulge yourselves at my expense again, you’ll be sorry.”

The chef stepped forward straightening his apron. “A turkey poult or green goose, sir? And perhaps a nice red mullet, with a Cardinal sauce?”

“Either will be fine. Mary, pack Miss Russo’s belongings please.”

Blair put on his hat and coat and left the building. When he inquired at the hansom cab company, he was told the driver no longer worked there.

He returned to the apartment, feeling lower than he had in his life. The cook had outdone himself, but Blair couldn’t do the meal justice. He should write references and let them all go, but in his heart, he still hoped Gina might come back.

The next day he began to search the length and breadth of London for the driver.

A week later, he found the cabbie working for another company. He remembered Gina. “Not a lady you forget in a hurry, sir,” he’d said with a grin.

“Take me to Holland Park.”

Half an hour later, Blair knocked on Lord Leighton’s door.

“Miss Russo don’t live here now,” the maid told him. “But she poses for Lord Leighton, on Monday and Thursday afternoons.”

Blair’s hopes of finding Gina soared. “Do you know where she lives?”

“No sir.”

The artist appeared at the door. “You’d better come in, Mr. Dunleavy.”

Lord Leighton listened to Blair’s explanation for wanting to find Gina.

He raised a shaggy eyebrow. “Gina has come into some money,” he said, leaving Blair to wonder how. “She has new lodgings.” He glared at Blair. “And she may not want you to find her.”

Blair clamped down on his jaw. “Gina believes ill of me, but I want to make amends. My mother has been indisposed. It delayed my return to England.”

“I’m not Gina’s father, Mr. Dunleavy, but I’ve become very fond of her. I’ll inform her that you seek her. Does she know how to find you?”

Blair raked his fingers through his hair. “Unless I’m able to explain, I don’t think she’ll seek me out, milord.”

The artist scowled. “It appears you’ve been behaving like a rake, Mr. Dunleavy. I’m familiar with your sort.”

“Dammit, Lord Leighton. I want to marry her!” Blair shouted. There was nothing on this earth he wanted more. From the first moment, he saw her. He’d been too slow to realize what she meant to him. Now, every day that passed without her was torture.

A smile hovered around Lord Leighton’s mouth. “So I see, Mr. Dunleavy. So I see. But Gina may not want to marry you. That I’ll leave to her. Alice will show you out.”

Blair found himself out on the street none the wiser. He gritted his teeth as he climbed into the carriage and sat with his head in his hands.

“Where to guv?” the jarvie asked.

“Hanover Square.” He could do nothing but close the apartment. There would be no need for it now. Contrary to what he’d threatened, he would ensure the staff found suitable employment. Tonight, he might join Horace at the theater, meet a pretty woman and try to find some distraction. He shook his head, he no longer had a taste for it. There wasn’t a woman in London who could erase Gina from his mind and his heart.

It was Friday. He would be back in St. John’s Wood on Monday and would wait outside Lord Leighton’s house until Gina came.