The House in Grosvenor Square (9 page)

Ariana was delighted to find that the Herleys were there, Mr. Herley being a staunch Tory. The Regent, however, had fallen ill and was not expected to make an appearance after all. Lady Merrilton made sure all her guests were aware of his absence and that they were invited again to her house in two nights. The prince had promised to make up for tonight's disappointment by giving his word to attend the event on Friday. Even more astonishing and rare a treat, his daughter, Princess Charlotte, would also be coming!

Women couldn't vote or appear in Parliament, and Ariana had no stomach to listen to the latest debates (she was not like Lady Merrilton, who invited any member of Parliament to her table if there was the slightest chance of winning his vote on a certain issue), so she accepted Lavinia's invitation to play a rubber of whist at a small side table in the long gallery.

Phillip had already taken a seat at the long table, his presence receiving due pomp from Lady Merrilton, who, like most society hostesses, coveted it. The sight of pretty Ariana and her friend at a small card table drew its own little circle—stragglers, those who were growing bored with talk of politics, and latecomers.

“If you hear of Mrs. Tiernan performing, my dear Lavinia,” Ariana was saying, “you must insist upon attending. Your mama and papa would be delighted by her. I daresay anyone would!

“A dramatic actress, you say, by name of Tiernan? I cannot recall the name. Where would I have seen her? Drury Lane?”

“Oh, I believe she only does her readings for churches or charitable causes. She's a missionary—”

“For charitable causes? Lady Merrilton is seeking a performer at this very time for a worthwhile cause. Tell me of what and whom you speak.” This was a question from Mr. Howland, a well-known aspirant of dandyism, which, in his case, included an inclination to try to make himself as useful as possible to the upper class.

“May I ask what is the worthwhile cause you mentioned?” Ariana doubted that Mrs. Tiernan would want to perform at Merrilton House, one of the biggest London palaces owned by a politically powerful family.

“The cause is no less than the Regent and Her Royal Highness, the
princess!” If Miss Forsythe knew something of an entertainer who might serve, he needed to know about it. Ariana told him quickly about Mrs. Tiernan and her dramatic reading of Scripture, giving her wholehearted endorsement of the lady. Soon Mr. Howland gained Lady Merrilton's ear, and by the time the game of whist had ended, her ladyship was above certain she would engage Mrs. Tiernan for the evening the royals were to visit.

In fact her ladyship was delighted to find she could offer an entertainment not only refined but with a pleasing moral emphasis that would gratify Her Highness particularly. She told the story of the princess coming upon a small lad once in a village (the name of which she did not recall at the moment, however) when Her Highness inquired of the boy, asking him who his father was.

“‘Why, I thought everybody knows my father!' he replied, quite unconscious of whom he was addressing.” Lady Merrilton did an admirable job of sounding like an indignant little lad, and the company laughed. “The princess was amused,” Lady Merrilton said, continuing the story, “and further inquired if the child could read. His answer, that he could read the whole of Saint Matthew in the New Testament, pleased her exceedingly, so she asked, ‘Do you have a Bible, then, my boy?' He told her that the family indeed had a Bible, though it was torn and dog-eared from handling. ‘How many children does your father have?' she then asked and was given the number. Handing the boy a guinea, she pressed it into his palm, saying, ‘There. Go and have your parents purchase a Bible for each of your brothers and sisters and inscribe them as a gift from the Princess Charlotte.'” There was a murmur of approval.

Lady Merrilton continued, at ease in the role of storyteller. “The boy, all agog then, stared at the guinea and then at the princess and wordlessly turned and ran off to do as she bade.” She smiled at her listeners. “I think a moral reading ought to be just the thing that our warmhearted princess will enjoy. Miss Forsythe has recommended just such a woman to us.”

Lord Merrilton opined his hope that the queen would accompany the princess, as she did on some occasions. He was anxious to hear any news regarding a possible improvement in His Majesty the King. “As long as there is life,” he said, “there is hope.”

Ariana made quite sure to take Lady Merrilton aside and confirm that her ladyship understood what sort of performer Mrs. Tiernan was. She was not purely an entertainer, but wanted her audience to experience Scripture in a new way. Her ladyship listened, but with a raised chin, replied
impatiently, “Yes, yes. She's precisely what I want! Her Royal Highness will be delighted.”

As Mr. Mornay drew up to them, Lady Merrilton turned to him and, hitting his shoulder lightly with her fan, said, “I'll depend upon you, sir, to get us our Mrs. Tiernan.” To his questioning look, she explained quickly what she wanted.

Looking back to Ariana, she said, “Mornay never fails me.” With that and a little knowing smile—a smile Ariana did not particularly like—she walked off to visit other guests.

“Don't look at me like that,” Mr. Mornay said, though his expression was one of amusement. “I haven't the foggiest notion what she's talking about.”

“But you're not out of countenance from her saying it,” replied Ariana.

“Should I be? I thought you were in favour of a more forbearing attitude on my part.”

Ariana admitted sheepishly, “Perhaps I only want you to be forbearing toward men.”

He laughed out loud.

From that moment, word spread quickly that a dramatic actress was to appear at Merrilton House the night of the princess's visit. With only two days to find and secure the lady, Ariana hoped that Mrs. Tiernan would agree to appear and that her delivery would be as welcome to the pleasure-seeking denizens of the uppermost echelons of society as she had found it on Sunday.

While Mr. Mornay was engaged in talk with an MP, Ariana watched Lady Merrilton happily flitting about him, injecting herself into their conversation. She felt suddenly quite unhappy with him. No, it wasn't unhappiness exactly. What was it? Her ladyship flitted to someone else, spoke a word, and then turned, revealing her pretty face from behind a fan and nodding in Ariana's direction. Then she returned to Mr. Mornay, draped her arm inside his, and pulled him away laughingly, saying she must have his opinion on a matter.

Ariana was roiling with the thought that the marchioness was intentionally flouting her easy friendship with Phillip, as though to say,
You don't own him, you know. You never will.

As she watched the lady laughing up at her future husband, all animated and very pretty, she was filled with an uncustomary jealousy that tore at her heart.

Never before had there been cause for jealousy. She tried to reason herself out of the feeling. But he hadn't as much as turned to look at her, and now he appeared exceedingly comfortable in a small group, her ladyship's arm still possessively on his own. Ariana felt humiliated.

She looked around and then quickly walked toward the wide doorway that led to an outer hall, beyond which was the grand staircase. She moved on, not sure what she wanted to do, but quite certain she wished to leave the room. She'd been looking forward to seeing her fiancé, but to find him equally as distant as he was on Sunday was disheartening. To find him enjoying another woman's company was beyond the pale! At the top of the stairs, Ariana hesitated for a moment. What was she doing out here? What was she doing at Merrilton House?

If Phillip had behaved as usual, Ariana could have entertained herself quite easily with conversation. There were many people she found interesting in the gathering, and some she even called friends. But she could not shake off the feeling of jealousy and pique.
I know it is childish, but why is he not attending to me first and foremost? It is ungentlemanly of him to abandon me!

At the top of the staircase, she nodded to two ladies who were coming up the steps. Self-conscious about being found loitering about with no clear objective, Ariana descended the staircase. She felt a sense of relief. With the help of a servant, she soon picked out her lined cape and headed for the door.

In moments she was out on the street. Park Lane was really not so far from Hanover Square. She could walk home. But then the idea seemed rash and ill-advised. She took a few deep breaths of evening air, looked down the dark street, lit up only by the house, and decided against the idea of going home on foot. Surely it wasn't safe.

Reluctantly she returned inside and once again gave up her cape. She forced herself back up to the long gallery, thinking that she oughtn't indulge her pique a moment longer. As she entered, she almost lost her resolve. She found Mr. Mornay still with Lady Merrilton on his arm. He was searching the room, however, but stopped at sight of her. With a satisfied expression, he gave his attention back to her ladyship. It was all Ariana could do to stop herself from bursting into tears.
Why am I ready to cry?
She headed once more from the room and to the elegant stairway.

Mr. Mornay looked up and saw her leaving. He came to attention and spoke something to Lady Merrilton, who merely grasped his arm the more tightly.

Ariana, meanwhile, was taking the steps as quickly as she could. She did not want to be seen in her condition—ready to bawl like a child! She was jealous but knew that Mr. Mornay was not trying to make her so.
But what
was
he trying to do?

She did not, at the moment, have the presence of mind to consider what his motives might be. In her heart she knew that Phillip Mornay loved her. He was going to marry her and share his life with her. Surely his recent aloofness could be explained. But here and now, it wasn't enough.

She wished she could go home for a few days. Her real home. Her own family. Not Mrs. Bentley's house. She was blinking back tears when she reached the street, without having stopped to even claim her cape. Across the street she saw a linkboy come to attention. Good. She could walk home, after all. She gestured to him, and he hurried to her, holding a lit torch. Thankfully, linkboys usually hung around the homes of the wealthy when a party was in evidence. She told him where to take her and fell into step behind him, not daring to think of what Mr. Mornay would say later about her leaving without a word to him.

She told the boy to hurry, wishing to get home quickly. She did not look back. Through a blur of tears, all Ariana saw was the boy's light and the dark streets of Mayfair at night. A carriage stopped in the street, but she paid it no heed. They must be nearing Upper Brook Street, she thought, where they would make a left and turn toward the house.

And then suddenly nothing was making sense.

Someone grasped her by the arm. At the same time, he pulled the boy roughly to a stop and moved his light nearer to her face. She could make out nothing in the dark, but assumed it was Phillip.

“By Jove, it's just the baggage I'm looking for!” the man declared in an aristocratic tone—a voice Ariana did not know.

Then someone else grabbed her around the middle. She let out a startled shriek as she was slung over a shoulder like a sack of grain. She tried pummelling the man with her fists, while yelling, “Let me go! Help!”

“Silence her, you fool!” A coach door opened.

Her captor tried to mount the steps with her still on his shoulder, but there was a scuffle. Ariana heard Mr. Mornay's voice. He shouted, “Not on your life, gentlemen!”

“Phillip!” Ariana called through her tears.

She heard the sound of running footsteps approaching and the voices of more men back by the house. And then the sound of a shot. At that Ariana was thrust into the arms of a different man, and she fought against him, trying to hit him with her fists. The linkboy's light was gone, and she could see nothing, but sheer terror kept her struggling. She cried again, “Phillip! Help me!”

The man's strong arms overpowered her. “I've got you! You're safe!”

It was Phillip.

The sound of a coachman shouting and the crack of a whip was followed by the hasty departure of the vehicle she had nearly been forced into against her will.

Ariana threw herself against her betrothed. Flooded with relief, she clung to his neck and allowed her tears to spill.

M
r. Mornay lifted Ariana into his arms and turned back toward the house, while explaining to the men who had come running that there had been an attempted abduction of Miss Forsythe and the villains responsible had just driven off. Ariana was still clasping her beloved in fright, not able to forget the ominous words of that man. What had he meant? He'd said she was “just the baggage” he wanted. How could it be so? Thank God for the alert footman outside the house who had called for help! Mr. Mornay had already been on her heels and was just about to leave the house when the footman rushed in, saying there was some mischief on the street.

Later he had to admit that when the ruffian had thrown Ariana into his arms, he should have put her aside to catch the men. But he could not, though the action ensured their escape. With his arms full, he was unable to lift a finger as they scrambled into their vehicle and took off.

While Ariana clung to him, Mr. Mornay asked Lord Merrilton to quickly assemble a few men to pursue the carriage. Then he hoisted her up more securely and turned to make his way back to the great house.

“No, I must go home!” Ariana pleaded.

“I have to see that you're well enough first,” he said.

“No, Phillip!” In such a weakened state, Ariana detested the thought of putting herself into the marchioness's care. Perhaps it was the urgency in her tone or that she had called him by name, but her words made him stop.

By now there was a crowd upon the street as the party found out what had happened.

Brummell and Worcester appeared. “Good heavens! Is she all right?”

“She will be. Fortunately I was in time to scare them off.”

“What? Was she out here alone?” Brummell whistled loudly and ordered a servant to find Mr. Mornay's coach at once.

“It's a curricle,” Mr. Mornay added, directing his comment to the retreating figure who was going round back toward the mews.

“You came in an open curricle?” Beau Brummell thought surely he was hearing things. His face was screwed up in distaste.

Mr. Mornay replied icily, “For lack of a chaperone, yes.”

Brummell smiled. “But it wouldn't be the first time, would it?” Then seeing Ariana's stricken expression, he hastily added, “Right. Quite proper, Mornay.” But before he raised his eyes heavenward for his friend's benefit, he gave Mornay an impish look. Brummel then proceeded to redeem himself by acting as a foot guard so that those who were joining them on the street were unable to accost Ariana or her rescuer.

“Miss Forsythe is fine—a couple ruffians abroad, that's all.” Mr. Mornay continued to provide what few details he had; that the coves had a coach, no crest that he could see, and no lamp was lit. His own curricle was finally brought to the curb, but he realized he could not climb aboard without putting his charge down. Just then Merrilton arrived, quite indignant that a guest of his had fallen into harm's way.

“Use my coach, Mornay,” he said. “We can't have Miss Forsythe put to any further discomfort.” He issued orders for his coach to be brought and then turned to a nearby footman. “Where's the dratted beadle when ye need 'em? Seen 'im tonight?”

“No, m'lord.”

The nobleman grimaced. “Not a beak in the street when ye need 'em!” He paused. “Isn't one supposed to be about?”

“I believe so, m'lord.”

“Not even a dashed charley around!”

“No, sir.”

“Good heavens!” Lady Merrilton came rushing out of the house. “Bring her in, for pity's sake, Mornay!” She looked at a servant. “Fetch a doctor at once!”

“Do call a doctor,” Mr. Mornay said, “but send him to Mrs. Bentley's house in Hanover Square. Number 49.”

“It isn't necessary,” Ariana said. She was only sniffling now, but still quite terrified at her near disaster.

“Do it,” he repeated.

The coach arrived, and he carried her up into the compartment and placed her on the cushion.

He stood with his head outside the door, saying, “I'll see her home and then perhaps take a look around. I'll see if I can recognize that carriage.”

“Very well. There are a few men out looking now, but we'll wait on you, Mornay, and go together,” said one of the men from the gathering crowd.

The Beau was already asking for a sword, as he didn't carry his own. Others were pulling out pistols or testing the strength of their walking sticks.

“When we catch them, they'll be sorry they tried their business with one of our ladies!” shouted Merrilton.

Worcester was practically drooling. “Teach 'em a lesson, that's what! And then give 'em an escort to the hulks!”

Mr. Mornay lit the interior lamp, sat down, and intently looked at the young woman crying quietly into her handkerchief. He might have lost Ariana to the hands of unspeakably vile men! His heart was still beating hard in his chest. She turned her eyes up to his, red-rimmed but pretty nonetheless. She wanted to throw herself back into his arms, but he made no move to take her up against him, and so she just looked at him, still sniffling.

“He—he said I was just the baggage he was looking for!”

“One of the men who tried to take you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I'm sure he didn't mean that exactly, but that you were just the right sort. They must have been intent on abducting a lady of good birth.” He wanted to upbraid her for going forth alone at night while he was at it, but refrained on account of her teary-eyed state.

But she shook her head. “No. He had the linkboy's light in my face, and then he said, ‘By Jove, 'tis just the baggage I'm looking for!' And he spoke like a gentleman! Not like a criminal. What could it mean?”

Mornay was silent for a moment as the carriage began to move. “No matter, now,” he said tersely. “When I get you home safely, I'll take a look about to see if we can't find this man—the men, rather—who were involved.”

“You'll be careful, won't you?”

“I won't be alone. The blue bloods detest any sort of violence or threat against themselves, and you are just close enough to their ranks,” he said, with a little touch to her hand, “to make them feel threatened. They'll all help with the search.”

“Good.” She didn't move her hand from beneath his. And still her eyes were on him. She was trying to work up the courage to sink her head against him, to creep ever so slightly nearer. But he said, as if remembering suddenly, “What made you run from the house to begin with?”

“Oh—not now, Phillip.”

“
Now
.”

“Nothing that signifies at this moment.”

“What if I hadn't followed you? You see how dangerous the streets are at night!”

“I never dreamed—”

“Precisely. You mustn't go about at night unescorted.” He studied her for a moment and then reached over and snuffed out the lamp. The carriage wheels began slowing, for they had reached her aunt's house. Ariana was once again suddenly blinking back tears. He should have taken her into his arms to soothe her—wouldn't he usually do so? Something was coming between them, and she had not the slightest idea what it was!

He escorted her to the door of the house. “The doctor will be here shortly. Will you be all right?”

Her heart sank. He was leaving, and there was an uncustomary chasm between her heart and his. She longed for that feeling of closeness they had been enjoying, it seemed, only a week earlier. What had happened? Swallowing the feeling of wanting to cry, she nodded at him and gave the briefest of curtseys. She would have turned, but he stopped her by taking her hand and lifting it to his lips.

It meant everything to her, the way he lingered his kiss upon her glove. Though there was fine satin between her skin and his mouth, her eyes began to dry up at once. He cared. He still cared. Seconds later he studied her with his dark eyes.

“I think it best if we limit our contact until the wedding. I'll escort you to anything at your request, but I have determined to pass the days until the wedding apart from you—” He stopped, seeing her face fall.

Three times Ariana had fought against crying that evening. Three times she had succeeded in quelling the tears, the sobs that longed to escape her throat. But now her eyes opened wide with a terrible feeling of finality—she'd
been right! He was avoiding her. She burst into tears. He started, as if to speak, but Ariana turned and went into the house.

He entered behind her.

Haines was rather astonished to see the young miss come into the house sobbing and merely stood aside while Ariana rushed past, one hand to her mouth.

Mr. Mornay caught her on the stairs, ignored the servant, and took her about the waist. “Whatever are you crying about?” he spoke gently into her ear.

The sound of his voice, soft and intimate, brought forth a fresh sob, but she threw her arms about his neck and loved doing so. “You break my heart!” she said, in a shaky whisper. He had received her with a tight embrace, but at her words he pulled away, looking thoroughly bewildered.

“You are changing.” She was trying admirably not to cry. “You are determined to avoid me! You have hardly looked me in the eye these past few days!”

He breathed a sigh, took her hand, turned without a word, and led her up the stairs.

He took her into the drawing room, his eyes upon hers in a look that she could not decipher. He did not appear angry. Neither did he seem sorrowful or upset. She tried to steel her heart against what she might be about to hear.

Mr. Mornay closed the door behind them and turned to face her while he completed the task, making sure it was closed firmly. He said, “Come here,” and held out his hand to her. When she drew near him, he took her by both hands and pulled her toward him. “What on earth do you mean by saying that I am breaking your heart? Don't you realize, my foolish darling, that I am having a devilish time of it?”

“
You
are? On what account?”

He pulled her closer. “On account of wanting this marriage yesterday! I am
living
for our wedding!”

Ariana was greatly encouraged. This was more like the man who loved her. Then he hadn't meant to be so aloof. She put her hands up and clasped his well-shaven face, avoiding the snowy white neckcloth that edged out beneath his chin.

“Oh, Phillip!” They kissed, and then they stopped. But he pulled her closer and kissed her again more passionately. Then he showered her face and forehead with kisses, then her neck. Then—

He froze.

He released her.

“This is precisely why I must keep my distance from you, Ariana! Do not mistake my meaning, or lessen my resolve. I am only thinking of your honour.”

She was frowning, but she nodded.

“Do not look so troubled,” he said, almost smiling. “If I did not
adore
you, I would have no need for such caution.”

These words filled her heart, and she impulsively threw her arms back around his neck. “I
love
you!”

He sighed, for her enthusiasm did little to help his state of mind, but his eyes sparkled when he answered, “And I love you, Miss Forsythe.”

The use of her formal name made her smile. Still with her arms about his neck, she said, “I shall only allow us to remain apart until the wedding, if it is what you wish. I will bear it only for your sake.”

He chuckled. “I have your permission? You little minx!”

Ariana drew back and then smoothed his snowy cravat with her hands. “I always want to touch your neckcloths. You do them so beautifully. Your face is framed perfectly and—”

He took hold of her hands and stopped her. “Unless you wish to leave for Scotland this minute, I must go.” But he bent his head and planted a quick last kiss on her lips.

At just that moment, they heard, “What?
Where
are they?” It was Mrs. Bentley, and her voice was not far from the room.

Mr. Mornay touched Ariana's hair, taking a long last look at her. Then he took her hand with one of his, while opening the door with his other.