The House in Grosvenor Square (12 page)

W
hen Ariana awoke the next morning, a vague disturbed feeling rounded the edges of her consciousness. What was it? Tonight she would see Phillip—that was a good thing. She would see the princess— another good thing, to be sure. Yet something nagged at her. Something was wrong.

And then she remembered she'd nearly been abducted! Heavens, it felt like a dream, only it wasn't. She had very nearly been nabbed from the street by wicked, horrible men!

She reviewed the events in her mind but then determined to think only of the coming evening. The Lord had prevented harm from befalling her. She would not now repay Him by keeping her thoughts focused on an evil that had been avoided. With every remembrance of it, she would give thanks in her heart for her deliverance. For her fiancé.

Much better.
Now she could focus on the coming excitement at Merrilton House.

For once Ariana was concerned about what she would wear to the event and wished she had asked Mr. Mornay to advise her. But she knew her aunt was capable of the task, and so she asked Mrs. Bentley to choose the gown. Her aunt did more than just pick out the lovely ivory silk gown, she also chose the accoutrements to match. It was all laid out and ready, and Ariana had only to wait for the evening to arrive.

As was rapidly becoming her habit (and to keep herself occupied), Ariana decided to stop by the house in Grosvenor Square. She felt a compulsion to be there, not so much due to a growing familiarity with the place as out of a nagging fear that she might have ruined it! Mrs. Bentley had squirreled off into her study to go over kitchen menus and shopping orders with Mrs.
Ruskin, so Ariana, determined to walk on such a gorgeous day, took a foot-man and set out for the house.

The street was busy with pedestrians, carts, carriages, servants on errands, and street hawkers. Ariana might have enjoyed the walk except for the hawkers, many of whom were evidently in need of more than just customers. She bought an orange from a girl, wishing she could allow her to keep the change, but it was all the money she had. Meanwhile, a black coach came down the street and slowed as it approached her, but Ariana was occupied with the girl and didn't notice it.

It rolled to a stop directly across from them.

Ariana's footman suddenly became aware of it. He hastened his steps so that he stood protectively beside his young mistress, between her and the street. Word had reached the servants, as it always did, of what had befallen her earlier that week. Mrs. Bentley had also warned them to be on their guard, and so the footman, Joe, was warily protective of her.

He watched with wide eyes, but no one came forth from the vehicle. Finally he had to speak up. “Mum,” he said, making Ariana look up in surprise, just as she put away her change.

“What is it, Joe?”

“That carriage across the way.” He never took his eyes off the coach. “Shabby, ain't it? Just as the one what tried to take you, mum.”

She looked across the street and saw numerous dark coaches and carriages. Having no wish for another fright, she gathered her skirt in one hand and said, “Let us hurry then! I'll be safe at Grosvenor Square!”

“Wait. I know a way. They won't find you this way, mum.”

Knowing his way around back alleys and hidden lanes, the footman hurried Ariana past Little Brook Street and across Bond, past the Venison Yard and South Molton Street. They then turned right onto the very narrow South Molton Lane, walked for a short distance, and turned west into another mews, this one with a sign saying, “Little Brooks Mews.” When they came out onto Davies Street, the footman put out an arm to stop her and took a good look up and down the street. He motioned to her to follow him across Davies at the soonest opening of traffic. Once safely across, they ducked down another stable yard, across an empty lot, and into one more stable yard.

Ariana was growing doubtful of the wisdom of the route. She was wearing simple slippers, not half boots or walking shoes. Moreover, it seemed to smack of disrepute, following a servant in a furtive manner, and she had
seen some people staring at her already.
I must be quite a sight, passing through stables in afternoon dress
, she thought. If only she'd had on a riding habit, it wouldn't have appeared half so odd.

They were getting closer to Grosvenor Square, however, and so she slogged on, eager to get there. Coming out on James Street, they turned south and then went west along Chandler to Duke. Finally they were heading toward the square, going north on Duke Street. Ariana was convinced they must have discovered the longest route to Grosvenor Square from her aunt's house that existed. She knew that Joe meant well and had her safety in mind, but she would welcome a rest when she reached her future home.

Lord Wingate peered out the window of his shabby carriage—a secondhand equipage that he'd won at cards—and watched while a liveried servant rounded the corner with Miss Forsythe behind him. He snickered. The idiotic servant had no doubt taken the lady on a circumbendibus route with the intention of hiding her from them. All he'd had to do was stop his coach at the square—and wait. He'd been guessing she was en route to her fiancé's home, and he'd been right.

The street was nice and quiet. “Here they are now.”

His brother nodded. “I see them.”

Wingate quickly unwrapped his neckcloth—he'd need it to keep the chit quiet—and held it, turning and twisting it in his hands in anticipation, as he watched their approach. Just then the footman noticed the carriage, and Wingate pulled his head back sharply to stay out of view, hissing at the same time, “He's noted us!”

In another second three carriages turned onto the square, moving slowly and blocking their view of the pair. The carriages stopped right there in the road, and still Wingate couldn't see his prey. Evidently Derby House, the residence next door to Mr. Mornay's establishment, was receiving guests. The door opened, and a butler came out, followed by two footmen. A groom appeared for the horses. People began stepping down from the carriages, and there was Miss Forsythe—stopping to greet an acquaintance. Wingate stifled an oath, his hands gripping the cloth in frustration.

Joe was still keeping a wary eye on their carriage. Wingate watched the proceedings but had to sit his gaunt frame as far back into the squabs as the cushions would allow to remain hidden.

Miss Forsythe moved on. The butler at 25 Grosvenor Square opened the door, and she was inside. The servant, after settling a last suspicious glance at them, went below stairs to the kitchens.

“Devil take it!” Wingate exclaimed. “We've bungled that chance, and that
deuced
footman is going to leak our presence!” He sullenly kicked the wall of the carriage with one angry movement, and they started off.

“There'll be another time,” said Antoine. Though he didn't say so, he was relieved. His heart was not in this business. He'd tried to put himself into it. He'd come along for the opportunity, but no sense denyin' it, he wanted nothing more to do with the whole scheme. With any luck, Miss Forsythe would be married and gone from London before his brother was able to fulfill his plans. But of course, he'd never had any luck.

Never.

Ariana was relieved to enter the house, but not because she was convinced of danger without. No, she was merely tired. Her slippers were somewhat muddy—thanks to all the horse yards and mews they'd been through— and she hoped she had not picked up an odour. When she stepped inside, Frederick nodded and said, “I'll inform the master.”

“Oh!” She hadn't expected Mr. Mornay to be home.

She wandered into the dining room while she waited but quickly left that room, not wishing to stay in it during its current state of upheaval. The men found her in the hall. Mr. Mornay had successfully kept himself elsewhere during her visits previously, and he seemed equally surprised as she to have encountered her here and now. His expression underwent a speedy transformation as he bowed, kissed her hand, and spotted her slippers. He said nothing, however, and asked her to step into the study with him for a minute.

She went, feeling a slight excitement to have found him home and wondering if he wished to discuss the charitable concerns she had left on his desk. Something was afoot, she felt sure of that.

“I would not have come, if I had known you were at home,” she offered.

“I can believe that.” His eyes sparkled, and that near smile was on his mouth.

He opened the door for her, and she, looking at him with a curious expression, entered the room. He made a gesture for her to sit in a comfortable
wing chair, and he took a position against the adjacent one, studying her, his arms folded across his chest.

She folded her hands upon her lap, waited, and just looked at him with her large, pretty eyes.

He had to smile.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling back at him.

“You are enormously pretty, and because I hadn't expected to lay eyes on you until this evening, I am enjoying the unexpected pleasure.”

Her smile broadened. “Thank you.”

“You also appear to be in high spirits today.”

“I believe I am, sir.”

Suddenly he sniffed and then looked at her curiously.

With a blush she admitted, “I followed Joe, our footman, here, and he took me off the street, and we passed through horse yards, and—”

“What?
”

“He saw a shabby-looking carriage on Little Brook Street.
I
didn't see it, but Mrs. Bentley warned all the servants to keep a sharp eye out—”

Mr. Mornay came sharply to attention. “Where? Was it following you? Where is your footman? Stay here!” And he disappeared. Ariana frowned. Here she had found him home, and now he was gone already. She hoped he wouldn't be long. She looked around and saw the family Bible, open on his desk. Her heart warmed. Phillip had been reading or studying it.
Good.
Rising and going round the desk, she saw there was also a book by Martin Luther,
Table Talk
. She picked it up and went back to her chair resignedly. She might as well do some reading.