The Courtesan's Secret (39 page)

"I can't but think this has something to do with his father, Sophia," Molly said softly, leading them gently away from Hyde, who, as a former general in the king's army was not at all equipped to understand the brutality of warfare as women waged it. "Dutton had rather a bad name going for him, and Melverley"—she shuddered—"did and does do himself no good turn by being so often out in Society. The world would think better of him if they saw him less often."

"You are of such a suspicious frame of mind, Molly," Sophia said sweetly, casting a glance over the room.

The ceremony had taken place in the yellow drawing room, so touchingly symbolic, and, the sounds of passion being blissfully achieved coming to them from beyond the dressing room door notwithstanding, the party remained happily chatting until breakfast could be served.

All were there, all who mattered at that precise moment in time. Her brother John, his sons, Lady Jordan and the children of her sisters, Melverley and the Duke of Aldreth, Amelia's father, all the sons of Hyde, Markham. Lives entwined, the skeins twisting back twenty years and more, all seemingly content to let the past lie in shadow, quiet and still.

But not Sophia.

Sophia forgot nothing.

It was such an advantage that they did forget. It made everything so much easier.

"You had no thought of Melverley and Cumberland, no thought of Westlin and Dutton when you arranged for Louisa to be ruined by Hyde's son?" Molly asked, her bright eyes alive with interest and no condemnation.

Molly was an old friend and had been witness to much of it. But not all.

No one needed to know it all.

"They are well matched, are they not? She is ideal for him. Whether Melverley made her that way or God, I do not know and it does not pertain. She came to me, Molly, not I to her." Sophia shrugged good-naturedly.

"She
is
good for him," Molly said. "What is more, he knows it. It takes little more for a marriage to thrive than that."

"And yet they have so much more," Sophia said just as the faint sounds of muffled screaming could be heard from the direction of the dressing room.

They sounded distinctly masculine.

Well done, Louisa.

It was not long after that, that Louisa and Blakesley reentered the yellow drawing room from the red reception room door. It would have been flagrant in the extreme for them to have entered from the dressing room door and, even though their courtship had been excessively public and extremely improper, some lines just had to be drawn. The line in their particular circumstance was at the dressing room door.

It was completely charming.

Melverley, upon seeing Louisa and understanding what had just occurred, nodded approvingly, which, of course, he would, and even went so far in his exuberance as to kiss Louisa on the cheek.

Louisa looked extremely shocked.

Eleanor, her fetching younger sister, looked appalled.

Yes, well, that was understandable, surely.

"You told him Westlin's not her father," John said, having come up behind her as silently as usual. As usual, she had heard him coming.

"Of course. It made everything so much easier for Melverley."

"Melverley
is
her father," John said.

"Of course he is, in every way that matters," she said, looking up at her brother in perfect accord. "The English have odd customs about bloodlines. He mistreated her, and her sister, because of Westlin and his constant boasting."

"How do you know that Melverley's seed did not make her?" John said softly. They were speaking in near whispers in the far corner of the room, her nephews making a ring about them, a ring of defense to give them privacy in this far from private place.

"Melverley's seed makes nothing," she said, watching Melverley, watching Eleanor. "Every rumor of his begetting a bastard, I have started."

"To protect them."

"It was little enough," Sophia said. " 'Twas mostly for Margaret, and she is gone. What is left but to see to her daughters?"

"Westlin fathered Louisa," John said. "Did she use him again to create Eleanor?"

"No," Sophia said. "Westlin was done with her."

"Then who?"

Sophia looked at John and smiled. "Ask Mary."

IT might have been because of the weather, which turned unseasonably cold and windy for April, but directly after the Kirk-land–Blakesley wedding things quieted down considerably for that specific element of London's population that did not enjoy quiet even when in the country, so how could they possibly be content in Town?

Markham, John, and the boys had taken themselves off to Marshfield Park, the Dalby estate in Dalbyshire. It had been Young's idea as he was the least interested in Town life and had required a respite of sorts in the woods and fields of Dalbyshire. She was completely certain that they were having a wonderful time and were likely stalking things right and left.

Caroline and Ashdon were still at Chaldon Hall, likely giving no thought at all to the many things that needed to be done on the Curzon Street house in Town that Westlin had given them as a wedding gift.

Sophia spent the time productively. She was still reinventing the white salon, and because the weather was so unpleasant, she was having the tradesmen come to her with their bolts and sample cases. The walls were to be covered in blush white damask wallpaper, which would look particularly well at night in the candle's glow, and the furniture, which was to remain the same, would be recovered in moss green velvet. She was almost certain. Certainly there was no rush, and she was still considering when Freddy entered the white salon.

"You have a caller, Countess," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

"At this time of day?" she said. It was not yet noon. Far too early for callers. "I'm too busy at the moment, Freddy. I would like to decide about the fabric today or I shall never get it all done before the party I intend to give for Caro and Ashdon when they return to Town."

"When's that to be?" he asked.

"Before the end of the Season, surely. Caro will want to show Ashdon off and she simply can't do that from Chaldon Hall. She will also want to say her good-byes to Markham and John and the boys before they leave for New York."

"And when's
that
to be?" he asked, walking over to the bolts of fabric leaning against the window and looking them over.

"I'm not quite certain," she said. "I'm not at all sure that they've done everything they possibly could to make things interesting while in England."

"Things did get interesting," Freddy said with a wry smile. "About that, one of those interesting things is standing in the foyer, waiting to see you. Lady Jordan."

Sophia immediately lost all interest in the various fabrics tossed about the salon and said, "How very interesting. I will see her immediately, naturally. Please show her to the yellow salon, would you? I shall be in directly."

Before Sophia had finished checking the order of her hair in the mirror, Freddy entered the white salon again. She turned from the mirror to face him in some surprise, when he said, "You have another caller, Countess. Lord Henry Blakesley. With a parcel under his arm like it's made of solid gold. He made it clear that it's for you."

"A gift?" Sophia said. "How lovely. Such a thoughtful man. I'll see him immediately. Show him in here, will you, Freddy? I think the disarray will charm him. And do see about providing Lady Jordan with some refreshment. A pot of chocolate, perhaps. I do seem to recall that she was very fond of chocolate."

Blakesley was shown in a few moments later, looking quite handsome in a pair of well-cut pantaloons and perfectly tailored coat of blue superfine. Marriage seemed to quite agree with him.

And he had brought a gift. Could a man be more accommodating than that?

She greeted him warmly, as she did routinely when a man brought gifts, but in this case, she was truly happy to see him. He looked spectacular and more content than she had ever seen him. It was so nice when things of this sort worked out so very well.

"Lord Henry," she said, eyeing him appreciatively, "how marvelous you look. Is that a new coat? It fits you to perfection. Are you seeing a new tailor?"

"Yes, actually," Blakes said. "Louisa insisted."

"She would," Sophia said with a discreet smile. "Men are invariably better turned out once they have a woman to please. Married men, of any situation, are always better dressed than bachelors."

" 'Tis a wonder any of us ever get married, then, as slovenly as our natural habits are."

"Oh, a woman can see beyond a stained cuff, Lord Henry," Sophia said as she sat on the sofa near the fire. "She sees what can be, with the proper effort and skill."

"How true that is," Blakes said, eyeing her in his usual cynical way. She so enjoyed Blakesley; he never failed to grasp the point. "And hence my visit. You are a woman, Lady Dalby, with very much sophistication in exerting the proper effort and skill required for any situation I've ever heard of. I know that somehow, some way, you are directly responsible for... well, for Louisa."

The dear man looked most distressed, the emotion of the moment clearly more than he was willing to disclose. She quite understood. One did not romp about Town dribbling emotion here and there like a leaky pipe. It promised to lead to the most disastrous and unpredictable results, which clearly should be avoided at all costs.

"Lord Henry," she said, leaning forward, "you do yourself an injustice in trying to do me honor. I did nothing, I promise you."

"You did
something
," he said, having quite got hold of himself again. "Louisa won't tell me, naturally, but I know she came to you for counsel in reacquiring the Melverley pearls, but that's all she'll say."

"And what did become of those pearls, Lord Henry? I did hear a rumor that you had won some sort of wager with Lord Dutton and that he had paid you in pearls. Is Louisa now wearing her delightful pearls again?"

"I think, Lady Dalby," Blakes said, looking at her in blatant amusement, "that you are far better informed that you like to let on. But, to answer you, Louisa has lost all interest in that particular item and has chosen to give them to her sister, Eleanor."

"How very generous of her," Sophia said. "It is not many women, in fact, I can't think of one offhand, who would give up such a precious item. She clearly found something she values far more than mere pearls."

Upon which, Lord Henry Blakesley smiled the most delicious smile and ducked his head. It was completely charming. She could not possibly have been more delighted.

"Which brings me to the reason for my visit," he said. "I wanted to thank you, for whatever you did or did not do, and, knowing that the blanc de Chine cup is no longer in your possession, and hearing a rumor"—and here he smiled most sarcastically—"that you were redoing this room around a new theme altogether, I have brought you this."

And he unwrapped the coarse wool bundle which he had been balancing on his knee, to reveal a smaller bundle wrapped in fresh linen strips, which upon being unwrapped revealed the most exquisite vase of celadon porcelain. He handed it to her and she took it as gently as if it were an infant child. It was hexagonal in shape with floral lacework cut into the sides and it was the most brilliant, clear, leaf green in color.

"You are fond of Chinese porcelain, I trust?" he said.

"Very," she said softly.

"This is from the royal household of the emperor Qianlong. I hoped you would find a suitable spot for it."

And for the first time in her life as it had begun in London all those years ago, she said words she had never thought to say again. "It is too fine. I have done nothing to warrant such a gift, Lord Henry."

"I have Louisa," he said. "Without you, I would not have her, no matter what you would say to deny it. Take the vase, Sophia," he said softly. "I have to thank someone or I shall go mad."

"And Louisa knows of this gift?" she said, looking at him and starting to grin.

"She wanted to give you the Melverley pearls. I convinced her that, by her grandmother's wish, they should stay in the family. Yes, she knows of the gift," he said, starting to smile. "She wouldn't mind a bit if you renamed the white salon the Blakesley Room."

"I shall consider it," Sophia said on a laugh of pure pleasure.

IT was on that buoyant note that Sophia bid Lord Henry good day and went in to the yellow salon to greet Lady Jordan.

What a surprising day it was turning into. When life slowed down in London, the citizens revolted, forced to find their own amusements. How lovely for her that they seemed to be drawn to Dalby House.

Lady Jordan was sitting not at all serenely on one of the yellow silk sofas. She looked uncomfortable. She also looked sober. It was quite startling.

"How good to see you, Lady Jordan," Sophia said, signaling Freddy to bring in more chocolate. "You are looking very well and on such a blustery day, too. How do you manage it? I have been closeted within, scarce brave enough to venture out."

It was a pleasant enough lie, and entirely harmless.