Hearts of Gold (22 page)

‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Enjoy yourself at the ball. A pity that Sarette will be disappointed, but it can’t be helped. She’ll recover.’

With that final turn of the screw he hung up and began to laugh. Perhaps it was Gerald who should remember what a plausible liar he could be – a family trait he’d inherited.

Sarette had wondered what relationship Magnus had enjoyed with this French woman on the way to Dorchester. But Marie Renouf turned out to be wrinkled and old. Her crabbed hands were covered in rings and she wore a tiara in her hair. Her salon in High West Street was furnished in peeling gilt, damp-spotted mirrors and fading velvet.

Magnus kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Madame Renouf. This is my ward, Sarette Maitland, and a friend of my late uncle, John Kern. She’s in desperate need of a ball gown.’

‘Ah, yes. I had heard that the son of my old . . .
friend
of many years ago had died,’ and she rolled her rrrrs like a cat purring. ‘So, you thought of me for
theess
. . .
theess
–’ eyes like brown berries darted from Sarette’s waist to her breasts and she shrugged and almost spat out the words – ‘
theess precocious child?
’

Precocious? What on earth did she mean by calling her that? Sarette was about to ask her when Magnus gave a chuckle. ‘You misunderstand, Madame. Miss Maitland was my uncle’s ward. Now she’s become my responsibility.’ His tone of voice was rather dry and unflattering.

‘You don’t have to make me sound like a burden. Nobody asked my opinion of whether or not I agreed to your guardianship.’

‘What is it?’

‘What is what?’

Those dark eyes of his were at their most quelling. ‘Your opinion?’

She allowed herself to be quelled. After all, she couldn’t kick up a fuss in a public dressmaking salon, even one so exclusive and specialist that it didn’t seem to have any clients except her. She grinned at him. ‘I surrender myself to your
responsibility
under protest.’

He laughed. ‘I can survive a protest or two.’

Madame was gazing one to the another, a thin smile on her face. ‘I have two gowns in Miss Maitland’s size.’ She clapped her hands and a girl came through.

Madame said something to her in French, then told Sarette, ‘Go with her . . . Mr Kern, you would like a glass of wine while we wait,
oui!
’

‘
Oui
, Madame.’

The assistant quickly undressed her, then settled a pastel green brocade gown patterned with gold and silver thread over her petticoat. Instead of a bustle the gown was fuller at the back and draped over a small horsehair pad, so it gave an illusion of a short, graceful train to the skirt. The girl arranged the puff sleeves, and adjusted the delicate cream lace over the square-cut bodice. Her bun received a cursory glance, a toss of the head and a scornful snort. The assistant tied a green velvet ribbon around it.

Sarette watched Magnus’s eyes narrow when she came out from behind the curtain. Then his smile came. ‘It’s perfect for you.’

Not quite. It seemed that there was a delicate net cape in cream, embroidered, and decorated with crystals. ‘And accessories, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Magnus.

There was a beaded net and flower arrangement for the hair, plus a small bag.

The second gown was a two piece, made of delicate pink taffeta, with a beaded open bodice over a sheer printed chiffon blouse collared with lace. Again there were accessories.

Magnus said nothing as his scrutiny went from her neck down to her toes.

‘Which gown pleases you most?’ she said, torn between the two of them, and trying not to blush, because she was well aware of the impression they’d created.

His eyes came up to hers and he surprised her by saying, ‘The gowns merely compliment the woman inside them. It’s you who pleases me the most.’

Her face warmed with a vengeance and she spread a little ivory fan and hid behind it, looking at him over the top.

His mouth twitched into a grin. ‘Stop flirting, Sarette. I refuse to be used for target practice by a chit of a girl who’s hardly out of the nursery.’

‘I’m not. I wouldn’t dare flirt with you. You deliberately made me blush, and I’m trying to hide it.’

‘Am I that much the ogre, then?’

‘Sometimes . . . often, I think that you don’t like me.’

‘Sometimes, but not often, I think I’m beginning to like you too much for my own good.’ He turned to the Frenchwoman. ‘The gowns are exquisite, and you are a genius, Marie. We’ll take them both. And something appropriate to wear under them.’

Madame Renouf’s smile was simpering. ‘But of course. It will be my pleasure to be of service to you, Mr Kern. A lady who wishes to please a gentleman should always dress from the skin out, so she can tantalize him as he unwraps her silks, satins and lace to reveal what perfection she has to offer underneath.’

‘I quite agree, Madame,’ Magnus said with a grin in her direction.

Sarette gasped and placed her hands over her ears, but although she felt quite shocked by the intimate talk, she also wanted to laugh, because the conversation was so unlike the Magnus she’d grown used to. But then, she conceded, he had never allowed her to get close enough to really know him.

‘See if there’s any daywear you have that will fit her, while I take care of some business, I need some extra staff for over the New Year. No bustles and nothing from your special stock. Is that understood. She’s pert enough.’

Sarette was pushed and pulled into a dazzling array of outfits, and soon there was a pile of silks, satins, velvet, chiffons and lace. She’d never seen anything quite so pretty, or worn anything quite so pleasing against her skin.

‘Madame makes lovely clothes, but the salon looks so shabby,’ she said to the assistant.

‘She has a small clientele, and her prices are outrageous, but she’s mean with money. There’s a workroom upstairs and Madame’s a stickler for good work. I’ve learned a lot from her. One day I’m going to open my own salon. I’ve not seen your gentleman in here before.’

Something lodged in the corner of Sarette’s mind. ‘Do many gentlemen bring their wives shopping?’

The girl giggled. ‘But you’re not Mr Kern’s wife, you’re his
ward
,’ she pointed out. ‘Your gentleman is very handsome. Usually it’s older men who come in here with their young ladies. Madame does a saucy line in undergarments.’

Sarette blushed as she caught on, then she gasped. ‘I’m exactly what Mr Kern said I am. His ward.’

‘Sorry, I’m sure, Miss.’

The curtain was pushed aside by Madame Marie’s stick. ‘Fanny, you’re being indiscreet, and I won’t have you gossiping to my clients. Fetch some tea for us. The young lady and I will converse while we’re waiting for Mr Kern to return.

Sarette was simmering with curiosity when she finally left the salon. ‘You should have warned me about Madame Marie’s curiosity.’

‘As a dressmaker, she’s a genius. I don’t know much about the other side of her business, apart from her reputation.’

‘She and her assistant assumed that I was your mistress.’

He grinned. ‘Did they? I hope you weren’t embarrassed by it.’

‘A little. Do you
have
a mistress?’

For a moment he looked taken aback, then he gave an easy smile. ‘It’s not a question you should ask a man, but no,’ he said quite truthfully, because wasn’t Isabelle part of his past now? ‘Have you finished prying into the private life of the Kern family?’

‘Not quite. Was Madame Marie really your grandfather’s lover?’

‘I believe she was one of them. He brought her over from France after my grandmother died. Marie pretends to be an illegitimate daughter of an illegitimate daughter of the French royal family. Actually, she was apprenticed to a seamstress at the time.’

‘Had he known her before his wife died?’

‘I have no idea. Starting with Alexander Kern and Esmerelda Rey, the Kern men were adventurers, but they had a reputation of marrying for love, and remaining faithful to their wives.’

‘Esmerelda Rey? That’s the pirate’s daughter from Corsica, isn’t it? Mr John said that’s where the dark eyes and hair came from. He said they were all bald except for a pigtail before that.’

‘And you believed him?’ Magnus began to laugh.

‘Of course I didn’t. He teased me a lot. Is there really a secret room in the cellars at Fierce Eagles?’

He cast a long look her way. ‘Did John tell you about it?’

‘He told me there was one, but he wouldn’t tell me what’s in it, and I didn’t know whether to believe him or not, because he made up such wonderful and outrageous stories.’

‘It’s true, there is such a room. My uncle said that what it contains is best left undisturbed, and he wouldn’t allow me to see it when I was a child.’

‘How could you bear not to know what was there?’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, I’ve been down their since, and was surprised at what I found. I can see that he wouldn’t have wanted it to stimulate my childish imagination, since he had other plans for me. And in case you’re hatching a plan, I’d rather you didn’t wander around the cellars looking for the room. It’s quite dark down there. There used to be tunnels down to the cove, but my uncle had them filled in.’

She shivered. ‘What’s in the secret room, is it full of treasure?’

Her smiled at her fancy. ‘My ancestors preferred to convert their ill-gotten gains into cash. One day, when the right time presents itself, we’ll arm ourselves with lanterns and I’ll take you down there to have a look, if I can find the door key.’

‘The key is hanging on a nail next to the door.’

‘Is it, by God?’ He gave a huff of laughter.

They were in a crowd of people and heading towards the gig, which they’d left to be minded by a young lad not far from the Antelope Hotel. When the crowd thinned she noticed a man talking to the lad.

‘Did you want something?’ Magnus said when they got closer.

‘No, sir,’ the man mumbled. ‘I was admiring your horse, that’s all.’ Sarette only got a glimpse of his dirty face before the man turned away and hurried off, but something about him seemed slightly familiar.

‘Is everything all right? What did that man want?’ Magnus asked the boy.

‘He said he thought he recognized the horse, and did it belong to Dr Scotter from Midbrook House.’

‘I’ve never heard of him, or of Midbrook House.’

‘That’s what I said to him, too. I think he was going to steal the rig if I let him get near enough. The horse belongs to Mr Magnus Kern of Fierce Eagles, says I, slapping the whip against my thigh so he knew I meant business if he fancied his chances. And a right fine legal gentleman he is – very generous when the occasion demands.’ The boy grinned widely and held out his grubby hand.

‘Am I to take it the occasion demands it now?’

‘Reckon I can tell you something else if I’ve a mind to, and I’ve got a fancy to buy my ma a warm scarf for Christmas.’

‘A worthy reason.’ Magnus laughed and put an extra coin in his hand.

‘Thank you, sir. Fact is, he didn’t sound like he was from these parts, more like a northerner or a scot, but not exactly. And when I asked who was taking the liberty of asking after the gentleman’s horse, he said his name was Jack Maitland.’

Sarette gave a tiny, distressed gasp.

Magnus dismissed the lad, placed the parcels in the gig and helped her up next to them, his hands warm around her waist, his hair ruffling in the breeze. He tucked the rug over her knees. She squashed a sudden urge to kiss the tender curve of his ear, but Magnus didn’t encourage familiarity. She smiled at it instead, before he straightened up, climbed up next to her and jammed his hat on his head. ‘It’s a coincidence, that’s all.’

‘It certainly wasn’t my father’s ghost, of that I’m sure. It was odd, though. It gave me a bit of a start. His face seemed slightly familiar, as if I’d seen him before.’

Putting the horse in motion they headed out of town on the Bridport Road. ‘You can have a go at driving the gig when the traffic has thinned out if you like. Then you can get out and about by yourself, as long as you have someone with you. Ada perhaps.’

It wasn’t too hard to keep control of the horse. It was a black gelding, not as big as Hercules had been, but it had a much glossier coat. She wondered where Hercules was now, and whether he missed John as much as she still did. She began to softly sing:

When Magnus laughed she was brought back to the present, and she grinned.

‘I made it up for Hercules, but it was such a long time ago that I can’t quite remember the words. It’s a silly song, but he liked it, and I was thinking of him.’

‘You’re a young lady, you should think of what the future holds, not what’s gone past.’ He pulled on the reins and brought the carriage to a halt. Taking her face between his hands he unexpectedly kissed her on the mouth.

It seemed as though the world came to a standstill around her. His lips were as silky as warm satin, as sweet as honey and as hot as fire. She felt herself melt, felt the womanly parts of her body eagerly absorb the message they were being sent. How could she bring herself to be shocked by his action when she’d enjoyed it so much?

She smiled when he withdrew, opened her eyes and found herself gazing into the dark depths of his.

He seemed more surprised by his action than she was. ‘Don’t look at me with eyes as round as dinner plates. I suppose I should apologize.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re a young, impressionable girl.’

She decided to keep it light. ‘And you don’t want to impress me in case I swoon in your arms and declare my everlasting love for you?’

‘No . . . yes.’ He sounded alarmed, then he laughed. ‘You wouldn’t do that, would you? You’re much too sensible. I’m sorry I kissed you. You looked so sweet, and so innocent and I gave in to a whim. It won’t happen again.’