“Of course I do.”
“I’ll be a good wife to you,” she whispered, twining her slender arms around his neck. “I’ll be all you could ever wish.” She reached up to kiss him.
He drew her closer, but as her lips yielded beneath his, her rich auburn hair became the palest of silver-fair, and her blue eyes darkened to the deepest of browns. He hesitated.
She felt the hesitation, and knew that all was still not well. She had regained her ground, but she wasn’t safe yet….
* * *
Nadia walked with Rupert in the conservatory at the embassy. They paused by the macaw in its elegant golden cage. She had seldom felt more happy, for she was convinced that what Dorothea had told her was the truth. Rupert had not said anything in so many words, but he had hinted a great deal about a surprise he had in store for her on her first day at Poyntons. If he wished it to be a surprise, then she would not spoil it for him, especially as he had seldom been more loving and masterful than he had been tonight.
She watched as he fed the macaw. “What time will you come here tomorrow night?” she asked, linking her arm through his and resting her golden head on his shoulder.
“Tomorrow? Ah, that is a little difficult. You see, I have to leave town tomorrow. I’m going to visit a friend in Sussex.”
She looked at him in surprise. “But why did you not mention this before?”
“I only made the arrangements today.”
A sixth sense began to stir warningly within her, although she could not have said exactly why. “Do you have to go?”
“I’ve given him my word, and a fellow’s word is his bond.”
“How long will you be away?”
“Several days— I’m not exactly certain.”
“But we were to travel to Poyntons together.”
He smiled quickly. “It only matters that we are there on that day; it doesn’t matter if we don’t arrive together, does it?”
She stared at him. “No, I suppose not.”
“Perhaps it would be better if you arranged to travel with Dorothea. I’ll see you there.” He drew her suddenly cold hand to his lips.
“You…you
will
be there, won’t you?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, you may count upon it, for I have something very special planned.”
“Concerning our future?” It was as far as she dared hint.
“Yes,” he said softly, kissing her on the lips, “most definitely concerning our future.”
* * *
Stella had at last succumbed to sleep, after lying awake in a frenzy of excited anticipation about going back to Guy in the morning. Outside, the moon was high in the starry sky, and Hyde Park shimmered with ice-blue shadows.
For Leonie, sleep was as far away as ever. She stared up at the bed hangings. Tomorrow Guy would take his niece away, and he’d never again give a thought to Leonie Conyngham.
Leonie stood alone at the bedroom window. Stella had left and the room felt very empty. She wondered how long it would be before she was banished to the upper floor once more.
It was another crisp, clear day, and the crowds had once again been drawn to the Serpentine. They all seemed so happy and carefree, but here, in the quiet bedroom, she was sad. She had avoided meeting Guy’s glance when he came, and he had made no effort to speak to her, beyond a very formal, distant expression of thanks for all that she had done for Stella. With those few words she knew that she had become part of the past. It had been a hollow moment, devoid of any show of emotion, and only Stella’s bubbling enthusiasm masked it. The girl had been torn between joy and tears, for if she was at last going home, she was also leaving Leonie behind.
Leonie stared out over the park, in her mind’s eye watching Guy’s carriage driving away from the door, but then she became aware of a stir of interest among the people close to the park gates. They seemed to be looking toward Tyburn. Curious, she opened the window and stepped out into the crisp, flawless snow on the balcony. The ice-cold air seemed to snatch at her after the warmth of the bedroom, and she shivered as she looked up the busy street to see what was attracting all the attention. It was a sleigh, a troika drawn by three cream-white horses harnessed abreast. Bells jingling, it glided smoothly toward her, and she immediately recognized its two occupants, Nadia Benckendorff, displaying a surprising skill with the ribbons, and beside her, lounging among the warm furs, Edward Longhurst. His lips were, as always, curved in that perpetual half-smile which Leonie loathed so very much, and today there was an extra dimension to that smile, for he seemed slyly pleased with himself, as if something was going exactly as he wished.
Afraid that they might glance up and see her, Leonie stepped back into the bedroom, looking out again to see the troika turn in through the park gates, the small group of onlookers parting to allow it through. Nadia maneuvered it expertly, swiftly bringing the team up to a brisk pace. The sleigh slid away over the snow, drawing admiring glances from all who saw it. Even the skaters on the Serpentine paused to stare as it swept magnificently by, the team kicking up the snow like glittering sugar. Leonie watched it for a while longer, and then left the room to go about her duties.
* * *
Edward held on to his top hat as the sleigh flew across the park, the runners whining and the bells jingling to the swift rhythm of the horses. The speed was almost alarming, and he glanced at Nadia’s unsmiling face. She wasn’t gleaning the satisfaction she should from the troika’s first triumphant appearance in London; she should have been basking in all the envious admiration, but instead she hardly seemed to notice it. Her mood was almost brooding, and her mind was most definitely on something else—on Thornbury, if Edward was any judge. He smiled to himself, for he knew that he was responsible for her lack of spirit, having very carefully over the past day or so hinted at Thornbury’s untrustworthiness. Perhaps she was now ripe for the plucking. He smiled at her. “I’m honored today, am I not? Shouldn’t it be Rupert beside you in your hour of glory?”
“He’s out of town,” she replied abruptly.
“Ah, yes. He’s returned to his family seat with his mother and Miss St. Julienne, hasn’t he?”
“No, he’s visiting a friend in Sussex or some such place.”
“I think you are mistaken, for I saw them departing from Grosvenor Square and they most definitely took the Oxford road.”
“Perhaps Sussex is that way too.”
“No, Sussex is to the south, across the river. Oxford is to the west. I don’t know who told you about Sussex, but it was untrue, I promise you.”
She reined the team in and then turned to him. “Rupert told me himself.”
Edward shrugged. “Well, I have the evidence of my own eyes. There’s no mistake, I assure you. I don’t know why he told you something else….” He allowed his voice to trail provocatively away.
“Why are you doing this to me? Why do you continually try to make me unsure of him?” she demanded, her tone angry because of the uncertainties milling around inside her.
“Perhaps because I don’t wish to see you hurt.”
“Hurt?” She stared at him. “Why should I trust you, milord? In the past you haven’t been a friend to me, no matter how much you’ve denied it since. Why should I believe you now instead of him?”
He held her gaze for a moment, managing to make his blue eyes very reproachful. “Oh, Nadia, that was unworthy, but I will not take offense, for I know you are upset. Very well, you doubt my veracity, and so it seems to me that the only course open to you is to go to Grosvenor Square and inquire.”
Without another word, she whipped the team into action again, turning the sleigh around and driving back across the park the way they had come. Edward settled back, his clever eyes shining, for he knew what she would be told; he’d made certain of his facts before embarking upon anything.
Grosvenor Square was quiet, the neat paths of the railed formal garden in the center covered with unblemished snow from which rose a gilded statue of the first George. The sleigh bells tinkled prettily as Nadia drove the troika toward Thornbury House, which occupied a prime corner site. It was a handsome red-brick building, with tall, symmetrically arranged windows and a pedimented door which was approached up a shallow flight of steps.
Edward remained in the sleigh as Nadia went to the door. He saw the footman shaking his head and then the door was closed once more. She walked slowly back toward the sleigh, dismay written clearly on her lovely face. He hid a smile. It was all so easy, especially when Thornbury was so overconfident that he didn’t take the elementary precaution of priming his servants to lie on his behalf. He’d gone on the Oxford road with his mother and the Jamaican Gorgon, that much was true, but if Edward’s information was correct, he’d subsequently gone to spend a day or so in the arms of a certain lady of dubious character, whose residence was in Amersham. A friend in Sussex, be damned! Well, friend Thornbury’s unfaithfulness was going to prove his undoing, and he was a fool ever to think he could so easily triumph over Edward Longhurst! And Nadia was also a fool, urged on by ambition, but without the wit to see the traps placed so skillfully before her.
He gallantly alighted to assist her back into the sleigh. She said nothing for a moment, but then she looked at him. “You were right, he hasn’t gone to Sussex, and neither the duchess nor Miss St. Julienne is at home. Why did he lie to me?”
He held her gaze, trusting that he looked sincere. “He lied because he’s gone away to marry Marguerite St. Julienne.”
Her face, already pale, lost still more color. “No. No, I will not believe you. Everyone knows he’s going to marry me,” she whispered.
“Has he said so?”
She hesitated. “Not in so many words, but—”
“Has he actually said he is going to marry you?” he repeated.
“No, but he gave me to understand….” Her voice trailed away.
“Yes?”
She took a deep breath. “That there would be a surprise concerning our future awaiting me at Poyntons.”
“An ambiguous statement if ever I heard one,” he said softly. “Oh, my dear, can’t you see? The surprise he has in store for you is his marriage to someone else. Think of him: has he ever been completely open and honest with you? Well, has he?” He leaned across suddenly, taking one of her hands. “Forget him, Nadia, for there is someone who loves you more than he ever did.”
She stared at him. “Milord?”
He drew her hand to his lips, turning it palm uppermost. “Forget Thornbury,” he murmured, his eyes warm and dark, “for I’m here now.”
* * *
For the next two days he laid siege to her, although he was always careful to keep the fact a secret from the rest of society, since he had no wish as yet to disprove Thornbury’s clever tale. The denouement, as originally planned, would take place at Poyntons on the ninth, but it would not be the one friend Thornbury fondly imagined it would be!
Nadia was more cautious than he had expected, and showed a desire to be as secretive about things as he was himself, thus conveying to him that she was not yet ready to finally cast Thornbury off, but he knew her confidence was very badly shaken and he offered her the salvation of her search for a wealthy, titled husband. Maybe being the future Countess of Wadford was not quite as grand a prospect as being the Duchess of Thornbury, but it would do.
Imogen watched the proceedings with growing disquiet, not having been taken into her brother’s confidence and therefore believing him to be in earnest where Nadia was concerned. Imogen was forced to examine very closely her own feelings toward her friend, feelings which had changed considerably of late, for it was one thing to encourage Nadia in her pursuit of Rupert, it was quite another to contemplate her as a sister-in-law. For Imogen, this latest development would have been bad enough, but there was also the irritating and galling presence of Stella de Lacey in Guy’s house. The child constantly eulogized Leonie Conyngham, and Imogen thought she detected a lingering interest in the schoolteacher on Guy’s part. The situation was intolerable, and by the evening of the third day Imogen had reached the end of her tether. She could do nothing about Edward and Nadia, she didn’t dare move yet against Stella, but something could most certainly be done about Leonie Conyngham! In a cold fury, Imogen set off in her carriage for Harley Street, to call not upon Nadia, but upon Dorothea.
Dorothea was in her boudoir, preparing to go out to meet Lord Palmerston. She was holding up her rubies to see if they went well with the dainty neckline of her revealing white silk gown. She put them down in surprise as Imogen was announced. “Ah, Lady Imogen, what a pleasant surprise.” Her smile faded as she saw the expression on the other’s face. “It would seem that this is not merely a social call.”
“Forgive me, I did not mean to offend you.”
“I am not yet offended, since I do not know what is in your mind.”
Imogen took a deep, quivering breath. “I want you to see that Leonie Conyngham is immediately removed from the seminary.”
“I see. May I ask why?”
“If you had endured nearly three days of Stella de Lacey prattling on and on about her, deliberately turning the conversation toward her, and all the while bringing Guy into it, then you would feel as I do now. I know what that brat is up to: she wants that Conyngham creature to take my place. Well, I don’t intend to let it continue. That is why I want you to see Miss Hart—she’ll do as you ask.”
Dorothea nodded. “Very well, if that is what you really wish.”
“It is, and I want it done as quickly as possible. Like you, I leave for Poyntons the day after tomorrow, and I want that woman gone from the seminary before I set off. I wish to be able to go to Poyntons safe in the knowledge that I am free of her.”
Dorothea studied her. “Your uncertainty where he is concerned surprises me.”
Imogen stiffened a little. “I’m not uncertain, I merely wish to rid myself of a tiresome creature who believes she has a chance of luring him if she flutters her eyelashes often enough, I’ll rid myself of her now, and the child later. He’s mine and I mean to keep him, and I do not intend to share him with anyone.”