Azalea (16 page)

With the entire fortune indisputably his,
Kayce had redoubled his efforts accordingly, with spectacular
results. Until last week, it had never occurred to him that his
unmourned brother might have left anything behind beyond the
estates and title.

Today Simon Clayton, sixth Baron Kayce, was
one of the wealthiest men in England —and one of the most feared.
His reputation for ruthlessness was well deserved; he had let no
foolish considerations of compassion or even the the law to stand
in the way of his advancement. He lived for the power that came
with great wealth —and now found himself in the position of losing
a galling amount to this upstart niece, unless she could somehow be
disposed of.

"It would be well if we could possess
ourselves of those proofs you mentioned. Timmons, you said?"

"Yes, at the Law Offices," Mr. Greely
confirmed.

Kayce nodded absently, his agile mind toying
with the options. "I had thought a discreet accident might be
necessary —indeed, certain arrangements have already been made that
may bear fruit. But now I am entertaining other ideas. My niece is
actually quite a beauty, I have discovered. I almost hate to see
such a commodity go to waste if I could possibly turn it to my
advantage."

"Of course!" exclaimed Mr. Greely,
struggling to sit up straighter in the overstuffed library chair.
"Miss Clayton is but twenty years old!"

Kayce began to smile. "Precisely. Who more
appropriate for the role of guardian than her closest living
relative? And as her guardian, it would be up to me to say where
she weds."

"If the girl is as attractive as you say,
you might get two or three times the price of her inheritance in a
marriage settlement," said the solicitor.

"That and more, I should say." Kayce lapsed
into thought. "Yes, that will do nicely, I think. Greely, ring for
my valet. I believe a few discreet enquiries are in order."

* * *

Two afternoons later Azalea was still
wrestling with her options, along with her latest attempt at
embroidery. The Beauforth ladies were gossiping with Lady
Mountheath and her acid-tongued daughters, who seemed to take an
unholy glee in the shredding of reputations. Azalea had therefore
retreated to needlework to avoid embarrassing her cousins with
another outburst.

English ladies appeared to consider
needlework an absolutely necessary accomplishment for any woman
with pretensions to quality, so Azalea had spent several fruitless
hours since her arrival in London trying to master that feminine
art. After much frustrating effort, she had finally reached a point
where she could appear to be occupying herself with a canvas, so
long as the observer did not examine her rather unusual designs too
closely.

At length, Lady Mountheath took herself and
her daughters off, just in time for Lady Beauforth and Marilyn to
go upstairs to change for dinner. Azalea was debating whether to
follow them when Smythe announced a Mr. Greely, identifying him as
Lord Kayce's man of business. Azalea put her embroidery aside most
willingly to receive him.

Mr. Greely was only a slight improvement
over embroidery, unfortunately; Azalea disliked him on sight, and
his obsequious manner set her teeth on edge. He was dressed quietly
and expensively, as one might expect of Lord Kayce's personal aide,
but his hair and nails were considerably less than clean and he
seemed unable to meet her gaze directly.

"My dear Miss Clayton," he said silkily, "it
is such an honour to make your acquaintance. Lord Kayce's only
living relative —you can have no idea how overjoyed he was to learn
of your existence."

Was it her imagination or did she detect a
note of irony in the man's voice? Entirely likely, given the
circumstances, Azalea thought. And this man must know her uncle's
mind as well as any person could.

"Thank you, Mr. Greely," was all she said,
but her attention sharpened to catch any accidental information the
solicitor might let drop by word or tone.

"Your uncle means to call on you again in
the very near future, but in the meantime he has sent me to take
care of some pressing legal matters and to advance you a few
hundred pounds on your inheritance." Mr. Greely beamed, obviously
expecting the girl to be overwhelmed by Lord Kayce's
generosity.

While surprised and pleased that she was to
receive such a sum so promptly, Azalea knew that it represented but
a tiny fraction of what was rightfully hers. Still, it implied that
Lord Kayce did not intend to dispute her claims after all.

"Has Mr. Timmons spoken with my uncle then?"
she asked.

Mr. Greely blinked, but answered quickly. "I
have seen Mr. Timmons myself, actually. After our discussions, he
and your uncle agree that it will be best for all concerned if Lord
Kayce is named your guardian without delay. That way your uncle
will be in a position to smooth your entry into London Society." He
smiled his oily smile again.

Azalea suspected that Mr. Greely, and most
likely her uncle as well, thought her an empty-headed miss who
would believe whatever they chose to tell her. She saw no reason at
present to disabuse them of that notion. In fact, she might be able
to use it to her advantage.

"Must I go to live with my uncle then?" she
asked with wide-eyed innocence.

"Oh, I doubt it, Miss Clayton. Your uncle
said nothing of your removal to his house." Mr. Greely looked
almost alarmed at the suggestion.

After a few more pleasantries, Mr. Greely
produced several documents requiring her signature, which Azalea
glanced over with assumed bewilderment.

Lord Kayce had apparently arranged for her
to receive a generous allowance, she saw, for which she could only
be grateful. The document making him her guardian, however, was
cleverly worded to sound as though she were merely allowing her
uncle to oversee her affairs, while in reality she would be giving
him complete authority over her person and property. This contract
might possibly be binding even should Lord Kayce's guardianship
cease— which she now began to hope it might do very soon.

To sign it was obviously out of the
question, but she had no wish to arouse Mr. Greely's suspicions.
She put on her sweetest smile.

"I'd love to oblige you, Mr. Greely, but I
did promise my grandfather that I would let Mr. Timmons look over
any papers before I signed them. As it was practically his dying
wish, I would feel just terrible if I disregarded it. Surely you
understand?" Azalea allowed a quaver to enter her voice as she
spoke of her grandfather, then held her breath, afraid that she
might have overplayed her role of sorrowing innocent.

She need not have feared. After a slight
hesitation, Mr. Greely returned her smile indulgently. "Of course I
understand, Miss Clayton. It sounds as though your grandfather was
a wise and prudent man. I will just take these papers to Mr.
Timmons myself in the morning. He can bring them here for you to
sign once he has, er, approved them."

Azalea rather doubted that Mr. Timmons would
see this precise document, as no lawyer worth the name would let
his client sign it, but she merely smiled and thanked Mr. Greely
for his understanding.

"Before I leave, Miss Clayton, I would like
to present you with a gift from your uncle. It is his way of
welcoming you to England and to the family. If you would accompany
me outside?"

Azalea was wary after reading those
documents, nor was Mr. Greely himself a man to inspire trust, but
she could think of no gracious way to refuse. Once on the steps,
however, her wariness evaporated.

Held by a groom just beyond the front
railings was the daintiest, most beautiful bay mare she had ever
seen.

"Is she for me?" Azalea gasped, turning to
Mr. Greely with her face aglow.

That mercenary gentleman blinked, as though
momentarily dazzled. "Indeed she is. A small token of your uncle's
affection," he said with the closest thing to a genuine smile she
had yet seen from him.

"Has she a name?" asked Azalea, her gaze
quickly returning to the lovely animal.

"You may name her what you wish. Lord Kayce
will be pleased that you approve of her," replied Mr. Greely
blandly.

"Oh, yes! Yes, I do!" Azalea's eyes never
left the mare. "Please convey to him my most heartfelt thanks!"

"I'll do that, Miss Clayton. Good day." Mr.
Greely descended the steps to the waiting carriage, but Azalea
barely noticed his departure. Slowly she approached the waiting
mare, still unable to believe that this beautiful creature was
really hers. Her uncle was obviously a skilled judge of horseflesh,
whatever else he might be.

"I shall name you Virginia —Ginny for
short," said Azalea softly, stroking the mare's black, velvety
nose. Her problems were by no means solved, but she allowed them to
slip from her mind for the moment. It appeared that there were to
be some advantages to her connection with Lord Kayce after all.

From what Lady Beauforth had said after her
uncle's visit, Azalea suspected that this development would please
her cousins.

* * *

"Gracious!" exclaimed Lady Beauforth, when
Azalea made her announcement during dinner. "I wonder... I mean,
how wonderful for you, my dear! And you are certain he means for
you to remain with us?"

"That is what Mr. Greely implied, though of
course none of the details have been worked out as of yet. I think
I would prefer to remain here —if you don't mind, that is, Cousin
Alice," she concluded hastily. She realized that she would be more
than a little sorry to leave this household, which was beginning to
feel like home.

"Mind?" cried Lady Beauforth, plainly
touched by the plea in Azalea's voice. "My dear, I would be most
distressed to have it any other way. Already you are almost a
second daughter to me, and I am certain Marilyn quite regards you
as a sister."

Surprisingly, a tight smile and nod from
Miss Beauforth acknowledged the sentiment. This response, slight as
it was, encouraged Azalea.

"Thank you," she said warmly to her cousins.
"Thank you both. As I barely know my uncle as yet, I would very
much rather stay here in familiar surroundings with those I have
grown to care for." She realized as she spoke that this was only a
slight exaggeration, and was gratified by the glow her words
produced on Lady Beauforth's countenance.

"I'll let you know instantly, of course,
when I have more information," she continued, thrusting back a
sudden pang of conscience at her concealment of one particular fact
that would by comparison eclipse this latest news. "Perhaps when my
uncle calls in a day or two he can give us the details of the
arrangement."

To divert her thoughts, Azalea mentioned the
generous allowance her uncle meant to give her, a topic of great
interest to both of her cousins. That subject dominated their
conversation for the remainder of the meal.

* * *

Azalea was up at first light the next
morning, eager to try the paces of her new mare. It would be her
first ride in London —and on her very own horse!

She dressed quickly in the new
green-and-gold velvet riding habit she had purchased in case such
an opportunity arose, and descended to the kitchen before Junie had
even begun her vigil at the keyhole. Cook readily acceded to her
request for a sweet roll for herself and some sugar for Ginny, and
Azalea proceeded to the stables with her mouth and pockets
full.

She breathed deeply as she entered the
stables, revelling in the almost-forgotten scent. Why had she not
spent time here before this?

Tom, the head groom, noticed her at that
moment and hurried forward with a broad smile. "You'll be wanting
to see the new arrival, I don't doubt, Miss Azalea."

"Indeed I will, Tom," she replied, returning
his smile. "And I'd like to take her out for a turn in the Park
before breakfast as well, if you would be so kind as to have her
saddled."

"I thought you might, miss. She'll be ready
in a trice and I'll accompany you myself."

Azalea started to protest that he need not
go to that trouble, but stopped when she saw the set of his jaw.
Junie was not the only one determined to see that she stayed within
the bounds of propriety, it seemed. She could not be vexed,
however, for she knew that they were only trying to protect her
from unpleasant gossip —and perhaps from more physical harm.

While Tom cinched the beautiful sidesaddle
that had been delivered with the mare, Azalea introduced herself to
Ginny and fed her the lump of sugar she had brought. Her soft voice
and gentle, non-threatening movements quickly overcame the little
mare's initial shyness, and by the time Tom handed her into the
saddle, they were becoming friends.

"A trifle skittish she is, miss, and a bit
spirited for a lady's mount, I thought. You ride well, though, I
take it?" asked Tom, observing her easy seat with appreciation.

"It has been a few months, and I'll no doubt
be sore later, but I'll have no trouble handling her, Tom. Thank
you for your concern." The groom mounted a roan gelding and they
headed for the Park at a brisk trot.

As they entered the gates, Azalea looked
around in delight. There had been a frost during the night, and the
grass and trees were lightly glazed with white. The fairyland
effect, temporary though it might be, almost made up for the lack
of foliage and flowers.

Few people were about; a pair of grooms
exercised their masters' horses and a few vendors were setting up
their carts for the day's business. The cold air fairly sparkled in
the sun, and Azalea could see her breath when she spoke to Tom. She
trotted onto the bridle-path and urged her new mount to a canter
more brisk than she would have dared had the Park been more
crowded.

Rounding a turn past a clump of evergreens,
Azalea saw a gentleman approaching on a large black stallion at a
pace even quicker than her own. As he rapidly drew closer, she
realized with a strange lurch of her heart that the rider was Lord
Glaedon.