His Lordship's Chaperone (20 page)

“Very well, I expect we all shall have a grand
celebration afterwards!” Honoria smiled at Catherine and took her leave.

Haverton had walked up and down the gallery several
times since he’d left his brother seated near the palms. He had just returned
to the ballroom when Simon rushed up to him with set deliberation.

“Come now, I must insist that you delay no longer.
Please, Robert, Honoria and I—will you end this waiting?” He sounded quite
desperate. “What do you say?”

Haverton laughed. A nervous laugh. Simon was right.
It was time. Before beginning, he needed to assemble all parties involved. “Why
don’t you find Mother and Catherine and I’ll gather Honoria and her mother.
We’ll meet in the library and all go out together.”

“Yes, yes, a capital idea. Capital!” Simon rushed
off to do his part.

Some minutes later, the Marquess had found Honoria
and Lady Darlington and led them into the library where Lady Lonsdale waited.
She had already been informed by the Duchess that her family wished to make an
announcement. From what Haverton could see, the hostess was more than delighted
to have this event—whatever it was to be since she did not know—occur at her
party. Apparently she had heard from some of the guests that he would break the
news of his impending nuptials at her soiree tonight!

“Honoria, it is time. It is nearly time!” Lady
Darlington trembled with excitement.

“Please calm yourself, Mama,” Honoria urged with
her face flushed. She didn’t appear much calmer than her mother. “You’ll swoon
before Haverton has a chance to speak and miss the whole thing.”

“No, I shan’t do that. I wouldn’t miss this for the
world!”

“Where is the Duchess?” Lady Lonsdale peered about
as excited as any of the rest of them.

“Please wait here,” the Marquess instructed. “Simon
is looking for her. I’ll see what’s keeping them.” Leaving the three ladies,
Haverton marched off toward the ballroom.

Catherine had spotted Haverton in the corridor just
outside the ballroom and tried not to meet his gaze. If she had there was no
doubt that everyone would know how she felt about him. Everyone. And she didn’t
want to ruin their plan, especially when they were so close to putting an end
to the charade.

She stood in the doorway, wringing her hands.
Catherine had not found the Duchess in the refreshment room and decided to
return to the ballroom where she must have overlooked Her Grace. Before
Catherine could leave, a footman handed her a note. She stepped aside to read
the missive in private.

His lordship asks that you meet him concerning a
matter most urgent. Please wait for him
abovestairs
,
in the west wing, down the second corridor, last room on the left. Honoria

Catherine dreaded to think what might have
happened. Were their evening’s plans called off? Surely it was something so
dreadful that Haverton could not write himself. Catherine clutched the note and
headed for the staircase, keeping careful watch that she wasn’t followed.

Up the stairs she climbed to the first floor.
Catherine gazed down the darkened west wing before deciding she needed to first
venture into the east wing for a source of illumination. Within five minutes
she was moving down the seemingly deserted part of the house. Down, down to the
end of the corridor. She could see the dead end. Catherine turned toward the
last door on the left and glanced around before letting herself in.

“Haverton?” she called out tentatively. Catherine
walked into the room and held her candle high, peering into the darkness. A
floorboard groaned and perhaps there was the squeak from a rusty door hinge.
“Is that you, my lord?”

She moved to the left side of the room, near an
opened door, and stepped closer to see what lay beyond. Catherine peered past a
doorway. A sharp shove between her shoulder blades pushed her to the ground
into what she then realized was a closet. The door slammed shut and the scrape
of something heavy moving over the floor came to a rest before it.

“No!” she cried in the darkness. Catherine had
dropped her candle when she fell, the flame snuffed out soon after. Pushing to
her knees, she moved to the door and pounded with both fists. “Let me out—please!”

Listening intently, Catherine heard the creak of a
door hinge followed by utter silence which told her the attacker had fled. She
was alone in the most remote area in an unused wing of a grand London mansion.
Here in the small, darkened room, she imagined that she might never be found—not
found alive, anyway.

The closet was dusty, the air stuffy. She sat,
resting her back against the door, blinking into the darkness. If she heard a
sound, any sound, Catherine would pound on the door and scream until she could
cry out no longer but for now there was only silence.

Neither the darkness nor the small room especially
frightened her. Catherine could only sit and wait. Isolated and alone, it might
be possible that no one would ever find her. If she were to die here, the one
regret she would truly have would be that she never told Haverton how much she
cared, how much she loved him. Her Robert.

At least no one was there to see her cry.

In the ballroom Lady Lonsdale interrupted the party
and gave Haverton the floor.

“I’m sorry for disrupting your evening, ladies and
gentlemen, but I have an announcement.” During this momentary pause, Haverton
noticed Celeste hovering about the door, the far door. He resumed his speech,
“I am very pleased to announce the engagement of Lady Honoria Darlington,” a
flood of whispers swept through the room in speculation, “to my brother Lord
Simon Moreland.”

Shrieks and gasps of surprise echoed through the
room.

“Did you hear? Haverton remains eligible!” came a
solitary female voice from the crowd.

Lady Darlington promptly swooned, nearly hitting
the floor.

“Mama!” Honoria cried out.

Simon dashed to his future mother-in-law’s side in
a trice and caught her before she had landed on the floor in a heap.

“My word,” said Lady Lonsdale.

“There is
still a chance for you, my dear!” came another, sounding relieved.

Another woman cried out, “All is not yet lost!”

“This has come as a shock to more than a few of you
I see,” the Marquess remarked.

The Duchess made sure their hostess was well out of
hearing range before asking Haverton, “What of you and Catherine? Where is she?”
She glanced about the room.

“She is nowhere to be found.” His voice cracked
with emotion. He glanced toward the door where he’d seen Celeste earlier and an
uneasy feeling came over him. “This is all so terribly wrong.” The Marquess
rubbed his eyes and swallowed hard. “This was not the way we planned. I cannot
imagine her absence is accidental. Do not worry, Mother. I will find her.”

Haverton now stood in the foyer and stared down the
long corridor toward the ballroom. He looked from side to side, allowing
himself to imagine the rooms that lay beyond and the hallways that led in those
directions.

He travelled through the hallway of the main floor
checking the library, breakfast room, and several parlors both small and large.
Haverton was certain she was not on this floor. He was equally as sure she had
not gone off on her own accord. Returning to the place where he’d begun his
search, his stared upward to the next floor, accessed by the grand staircase.

It then crossed his mind how many times he’d been
an unwilling visitor in an out-of-the-way closet—he was ashamed to admit it but
the incident occurred more than one would imagine.

If it had worked for him, why not Catherine?

The Marquess ascended the stairs to the first-floor
landing. He strode down the obviously lived-in east wing, calling out her name.
There was no answer. Then he headed down the darkened west wing. He went in
search of some light.

The corridor seemed as if it went on forever. He
called out her name as he passed. The corridor came to a dead end. He pushed
open the door on the right, stepped inside, and lifted the candelabrum to
illuminate the room. Nothing.

Haverton stepped back into the hallway and entered
the room on the left. “Catherine!” Had he heard something—a scrape? A sob?

“Robert!” came the muffled cry.

The Marquess strode into the room and saw a chest
blocking a door. Stepping closer, the illumination showed tracks on the floor that
told him the chest had been moved recently. “Catherine, are you all right?”

“Yes. Oh, yes!” He heard her sob. “It’s dark and—”

“Give me a moment, I’ll have you out in a thrice.”
He set the candelabrum on a covered table to the side before pushing the chest
back. Haverton pulled open the door and Catherine ran into his arms. He held
her tight. “It’s all right. I’ve got you. You’re fine now.”

“I was so frightened.” Her tears subsided. “I
didn’t think anyone would ever find me. I was trapped … I—”

“Who’s done this to you?” Haverton pulled her from
him. He had to see for himself that she was unharmed.

“I don’t know. I never saw their face.” She began
to swipe at her skirts, brushing away the dust.

“It does not matter. You are safe with me, and I
shall not allow you out of my sight.” He brought her hand to his lip and kissed
it. “What’s that you’ve got here?”

Crumpled in her hand was a small parchment. “It’s
the note from Honoria telling me to meet you here.”

He glanced at her. “I sent no such note.”

“I know that now.”

The Marquess smoothed the paper to read it. They
were not his words, and if he was not mistaken, this was not written in
Honoria’s hand. He recognized the writing to be Celeste Cummings-Albright’s.

“Come with me,” he said, reaching for the branch of
candles. “I believe I’ve had enough of these wicked schemes and countless
untruths. Something must be done, we can no longer allow anyone to—”

“Robert, I—I’m afraid.” Her voice grew quiet. “I
don’t want to face those people.”

“You won’t be doing it alone. We must,” he told
her. “We must show them all that we will do as we wish, despite what they’ve
all heard, and we are not to be manipulated by their malicious gossip.
Threatening to make us social outcasts—I could not care less if any of those
people ever acknowledged me again.” His voice softened. “Yours is the only
opinion that matters.”

She smiled. “And I must tell you that I, as are
many of the ladies in Town, am completely enamored of you. You have won my
heart and I can deny you nothing.” The fear from her frightening ordeal and the
strain she had imagined in facing those who might have caused this
unpleasantness evaporated. “I will stand by your side, my lord.”

“You are not simply another lady in Town.” He
stepped near and held her close. “You have a very great power over me and it is
more than the threat that you may gossip about my fondness for plying
watercolors and make me a social outcast.”

“I would never—” She gasped, mocking outrage. “Your
secret is safe with me.”

“Just as I suspected.” He bent and kissed her cheek
before leading her to the door.

“Besides, if I were to let it be known that the
Marquess of Haverton’s hobby is watercolor landscapes, there’ll be a run on art
supplies. The gentlemen’s clubs will empty and their patrons will cover the
parks, riverbanks, and every scenic spot around Town with their easels.”

Catherine fairly ran after the Marquess as he
strode down the west corridor with her hand in his. He must have felt that she
encumbered his progress for he set the candelabrum on a table, swept her into
his arms, and proceeded down the staircase. Reaching the ground floor, he
continued toward the guests.

Near the entrance, Catherine observed the familiar
gathering of heads as groups of people came together in conversation. The rapid
succession of people regrouping to those around them told Catherine word was
spreading fast.

The Marquess of Haverton strode into the ballroom
with Catherine in his arms. She caught sight of the Duchess of Waverly as they
passed. The Duchess brought her hand to her throat and her eyes widened with
apparent shock. Lord Simon wrapped his arm around Lady Honoria’s shoulder and
drew her near. Lady Darlington clutched his arm on his opposite side for
support. Apparently that arrangement had worked out well.

Haverton paused in front of Mrs. Cummings-Albright
and grumbled an angry, “Do not think your actions will be overlooked. Count
yourself lucky. If any harm should have come to Miss Hayward I would have made
certain the consequences would have been most harsh.”

Slowly at first, the guests drew away from Mrs. Cummings-Albright
until she stood alone and quite isolated. She glanced at those around her,
noting her prompt rejection from polite society, and raised her gloved hand to
cover her sobs before fleeing from the room.

The guests around them parted, their curiosity
palpable. When the Marquess reached the center of the room he set Catherine
upon her feet.

“My lords and ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen. I
beg your indulgence as I make my true confession before you and deny the
gossipmongers throughout Town the opportunity to distort the facts. I stand
before you, in plain sight, so there will be no doubt as to my actions or
motives.”