The Marriage Trap (20 page)

“What can we do?” Ash sat back in his chair. “Call everybody out?”

“No. But you're a popular fellow. A word from you in the right ear could help ease her way in society.”

“Consider it done. And what about you, Brand? What will you do to help Jack's wife?”

Another fleeting smile. “Anyone who snubs her or makes her life difficult will find themselves lampooned in my newspaper.”

“And if they won't mend their ways?”

“I'll ruin them.”

Ash suppressed a shudder. “I'd hate to have you for an enemy, Brand.”

Ellie was upstairs in the drawing room, arranging flowers from the hothouse in two exquisite crystal vases, when she heard the commotion downstairs. She ignored it. Jack was in the library interviewing a Mr. Barrie for the post of tutor and he could investigate much more quickly than she. Besides, she felt like a guest in this house, and was reluctant to interfere in any domestic matter. Only when Jack's grandmother stood behind her, in person, did she have the confidence to take charge, but the dowager and Caro were making calls, leaving the newlyweds to amuse themselves.

What Grandmamma expected them to get up to did not bear thinking about. All the same, she was glad of any excuse to delay the inevitable bridal visits she would be expected to make soon. She understood polite society only too well, having lived on its fringes for a number of years, and she did not expect to receive a warm reception.

“Jack! Jack! Where are you?”

The voice was feminine. Curious now, Ellie put down her scissors and made her way to the gallery, where she halted and looked over the banister.

“Where is everyone?” cried the lady who stood in the hall, removing her coat and bonnet while footmen carried her boxes upstairs. “Jack? Caro? I'm home.”

This could only be Frances, the widow of Jack's brother. Ellie had heard a great deal about Jack's sister-in-law from Caro, all of it complimentary. Caro had not exaggerated the lady's beauty. Pale blonde ringlets framed a heart-shaped face. She was small and feminine. Even her voice was feminine, not girlish, but soft with a hint of huskiness. Her garments marked her as a lady of fashion.

Pinning a smile to her face to cover her nervousness, Ellie began to descend the stairs. She was halfway down when the library door opened and Jack appeared.

“Frances,” he said. “This is a surprise. We weren't expecting you till next week.”

Frances laughed. “Caro wrote me and told me the good news. So, you're caught at last! I can scarcely believe it.”

Crossing to Jack, she lifted her face to his and pursed her lips, inviting a kiss. There was something intimate and wifely about the gesture that made Ellie feel like an intruder, and she wondered whether she could slip away unseen. This seemed cowardly, so she stood her ground, waiting to be noticed.

Jack ignored the pursed lips and brushed a careless kiss on Frances's brow. Disentangling himself from the lady's arms, he looked toward the stairs. “Ellie,” he said, “come and meet my sister-in-law, and yours, too, now that we are wed.”

Keeping her smile in place, Ellie descended the stairs and crossed to Frances. The formal introductions were never made. Frances enfolded her in her arms and hugged her.

“You,” said Frances, “shall be the sister I never had.” She held her at arm's length and spoke to Jack. “She's lovely, Jack, but I should have expected it. You always had an eye for beauty.”

“I've always wanted a sister,” said Ellie.

Frances was beautiful, sweet and friendly, and Ellie disliked her on sight. It was natural, she supposed, after the housekeeper's set down and Caro's effusive praise for dear Frances, who had all the attributes Ellie seemed to lack. But it was unfair to Frances to dislike her for that. Surely she wasn't so childish!

“But red hair?” Frances laughed. “I distinctly remember you telling me that you couldn't abide red hair.”

“Ah, but that was before I met Ellie,” replied Jack with an adeptness that Ellie could only admire.

Frances linked her arm through Ellie's. “Come along,” she said. “You can talk to me while I change. I suppose Grandmamma and Caro are out making calls?” As she spoke, she steered Ellie to the stairs. “Why aren't you with them?” she shook her head. “Silly me! You're afraid that the tabby cats will tear you to shreds. Well, now that I'm here, that won't happen. I am not without influence, and any unkindness to you will be repaid in full by me.”

Ellie chanced to look back at Jack. He was standing in the center of the spacious hallway, arms folded across his chest, watching them as they mounted the stairs. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

The woman was perfect. Another reason why she could not warm to her, Ellie mused as she watched Alice dress her sister-in-law. Frances's figure, though not voluptuous, was nicely rounded. The gown she had chosen to wear, an aqua silk that brought out the aqua in her eyes, was the kind of gown Aurora would be happy to wear.

But Frances wasn't like Aurora. She wasn't dashing and devil-may-care. She was intensely feminine. Her smiles, her laughs, her fluttering lashes and sidelong glances were pure coquette.

After seating herself at her dressing table, Frances selected an opal pendant from the jewelry box that Alice held out to her, then she angled her head so that the maid could fasten it around her throat.

Even her choice of jewelry was perfect.

When it occurred to Ellie that she was seriously looking for flaws, she gave herself a mental shake. This was nonsense. She couldn't dislike Frances just because she felt inadequate. Surely, she was more mature than that?

Her train of thought was interrupted when Frances gave a sudden shriek. Ellie's heart leaped to her throat.

Her lovely features twisting in fury, Frances slapped the maid's hand away, and turned to snarl at her. “You caught my skin in the clasp, you . . . you ball of fat. Go back to the laundry where you belong! Send Meghan to me.”

Tears flooded the little maid's eyes. Biting down on her lip, she bobbed a curtsy and hurried from the room.

Ellie hardly knew where to look, but there was no awkwardness on Frances's part. She held out the pendant and smiled at Ellie as though nothing had happened. “Help me, Ellie?”

Help her? Ellie wanted to strangle her! In her time as a lady's companion, she'd been the recipient of slights and snubs, but no one had ever called her names. Had they done so, she would have left their employ.

She fastened the clasp without incident, but could not bring herself to smile. “I should change, too,” she said, not wanting to spend another minute with this woman, “before the others come home.”

To her own ears, it was a feeble excuse, but Frances's mind was obviously on something else. She got up and linked her arm through Ellie's as she walked her to the door.

“Ellie,” she said, her tone, like her smile, dulcet and confiding, “I don't know what you may have heard about Jack and me, but I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. It's true that I was engaged to Jack once, but after I met Cedric, there was no one else for me. I had to break my engagement to Jack. You do see that, don't you?”

Her mind in a whirl, Ellie could only nod. No one had ever told her that Jack and his sister-in-law were once engaged to be married.

Frances shrugged gracefully. “Naturally the family blamed me when Jack went off to become a soldier. But if he suffered, so did I. I don't have it in me to hurt a fly, much less someone who loves me.”

She opened the door. “His marriage to you makes me hope that he is finally over this youthful infatuation. After all, nothing can come of it. As the law stands, we can never marry.”

Lucky, lucky Jack!
Ellie thought.

She felt herself being gently propelled into the corridor. “All I ask,” Frances went on, “is that you make him happy. And I promise I shall do everything in my power to make you comfortable. I know you have never had to manage a household of this magnitude. Well, don't give it another thought. I shall continue in my role as chatelaine. Just enjoy yourself, Ellie.”

A moment later, Ellie found herself staring at a closed door.

Once in her own chamber, she sat on the bed and let her mind roam through Frances's monologue, and that's what it was, a monologue. All that was required of her was to be silent and biddable, just as though she were still a lady's companion.

It didn't take her long to come to the conclusion that she had been mauled as badly as Alice. She felt inadequate as a wife and a countess. Alice was plump. Had Frances divined their weaknesses and used them to humiliate the two women?

On that thought, she jumped to her feet and went in search of Alice. She wasn't going to let Mrs. Leach get her teeth into the little maid.

She found her with Webster, going through one of the linen closets. She had stopped crying and was listening intently to what the head housemaid was saying.

“Yes, my lady?” asked Webster.

Ellie said, “I just wanted to make sure that Alice was all right. I thought she looked rather pale in Lady Frances's room.”

Miss Webster's eyes had a knowing glint. “She does get nervous around Lady Frances, so I thought it would be best to assign Alice to other duties for the next little while.”

So,
thought Ellie,
Miss Webster tries to protect the little maid, too.
She was beginning to like the head housemaid more and more.

“I think that's a splendid idea,” she said.

Miss Webster nodded. “She'll be a great help to me with mending the linens. Alice is accomplished with a needle. Her stitches are always invisible. And in the laundry, there's not a stain or mark Alice doesn't know how to get out. One of these days, she'll make a fine lady's maid.”

“That's good to know.”

Alice was emboldened to say, “My mother was a lady's maid.”

“Well, then,” said Ellie, “when your duties allow, you must look through my garments and give them a good turnout.”

She made the offer knowing that none of the maids would feel that Alice was encroaching on her territory. There were no abigails as such, but the maids with seniority were expected to drop everything and fill in as lady's maid as required.

Alice's blue, blue eyes were filling up with tears again. “Thank you, my lady. I'll do my best.”

Ellie and Miss Webster exchanged a gratified smile.

In the following weeks, Ellie's fortunes took a turn for the better. It began when Sir Charles wrote to say that the prime suspects in the case were now the dresser and her lover. It seemed that Louise Daudet had withdrawn a large sum of money from her bank. Not only was that missing, but so were some especially fine pieces of her jewelry, and someone remembered seeing the dresser wearing a broach belonging to the actress on or near the date of the murder.

Ellie and Robbie were in Jack's study when he read the ambassador's letter to them. When he came to the end, he folded it and locked it in his desk. “I need not tell you,” he said, “that this settles nothing. The dresser is only suspected in the murder. She has not been found guilty.”

Robbie shook his head. “But why has she become the prime suspect? They must know from the statement we sent to Sir Charles that I was at the murder scene. If I were an officer of the law, I would think that far more incriminating than a broach the dresser wore. For all we know, Louise might have made the girl a present of the broach.”

“True,” said Jack, “but the difference is, the dresser and her lover have disappeared. No one has seen them since the night of the murder. You may have run away, but eventually you came forward and made a statement of your own accord. That is in your favor. Then there is Sir Charles. He is on your side, so they know they have to come up with more than circumstantial evidence to prove their case. Sir Charles carries a great deal of influence with Wellington.”

Suddenly it was too much for Ellie. Her eyes became teary. Robbie patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “There, there, Sis. Don't take on so. This will all come out right in the end.” He forced a laugh. “With Sir Charles and Jack on our side, how can we not succeed in proving my innocence? Tell her, Jack.”

“I prefer to say,” said Jack with a smile, “that with Ellie on your side, you have nothing to worry about.”

Ellie gave a watery laugh.

Robbie got up. “I want to thank you, sir, for all that you've done for me. And if there is anything I can do for you, you have only to ask.”

“Just listen to your tutor and concentrate on that Greek examination that is coming up.”

“I'll do my best.”

When she and Jack were alone, Ellie said, “This is good news, isn't it, Jack?”

“It would seem so.”

This noncommittal answer left her less than satisfied. “Your friend, Brand Hamilton, won't have to go on with his investigation, will he? I mean, what would be the point?”

The faint frown in his eyes vanished. “There never was much evidence to suggest that either you or Robbie was in any danger. It was all speculation on my part. It seems I was wrong.”

“That's a relief!” She got up. “Any words of wisdom for me?”

He steepled his fingers, then looked up at her. “As a matter of fact, I have. It's time for you to make your bows to society. Don't look so stricken. It's no worse than Robbie facing a Greek examination. And I've found the perfect tutor for you, too.”

After she left, Jack sat at his desk, gazing into space, his fingers idly drumming out a tattoo. In spite of what he'd said to Ellie, he wasn't satisfied that they were in the clear yet, but he had nothing to substantiate that view. In fact, everything contradicted it. There were no more break-ins, no more attacks, no one spying on her or Robbie. A reasonable man would accept the obvious.

On the battlefield, an officer who too readily accepted the obvious could lead his men into a trap. He wasn't prepared to take that chance with Ellie.

It was better to err on the side of caution. The investigation would go forward.

The perfect tutor for Ellie turned out to be Jack's friend, Ash Denison. Ash was a member of the dandy set. He knew how to bring a lady up to snuff and launch her in society. At first Ellie was wary, thinking she would be snubbed at every turn, but when Ash introduced her to one of
his
friends, Beau Brummel, who made a point of promenading with her during one of the intermissions at the King's Theater, and the trickle of people who stopped to chat became a flood, she realized how lucky she was to have Ash as her mentor. Beau Brummel, for some odd reason, wielded immense influence. A word from him could bring a lady into fashion or do the opposite. She was one of the favored few.

Try as she might, however, she couldn't completely overcome her anxiety. As the Countess of Raleigh, she was expected to be a fashion plate. People were watching her every move. Some, she knew, would be hoping to see her fall on her face. It was her desire not to shame Jack that made her determined to succeed.

This wasn't only her pride at work. She was coming to see that, with Jack, actions spoke louder than words. When she catalogued all the ways he'd helped Robbie and her since they'd crashed into his life like a fiery comet, she felt guilty for snapping at him just because he was inept with words. He wasn't inept so much as too frank for comfort.

She wished they could start over. Then there would be no locked door between them. All she had to do was invite him in. She was working herself up to it, trying to show him with
her
actions what she found so hard to put into words. She'd unlocked the door a long time ago. Why wouldn't the stupid man turn the doorknob?

One thing she knew that would please Jack was if she and Caro could become friends. This was easier said than done, for Caro made no secret of her preference for Frances. Daunted, but not entirely without hope, Ellie invited Caro to come driving with her and Ash in the park.

They were on the stairs, and Ellie was dressed to go out. Caro drew back as though she'd been stung.

“Go driving! With you?” Caro's voice was quivering.

“Well, Ash will be driving, so you'll be quite safe.”

“What about Frances?”

“What about her?” asked Ellie, her heart sinking. She was wishing she had let well enough alone.

Caro was a pretty girl with a clear complexion, large, expressive eyes, and dark glossy hair that curled naturally. She didn't look pretty to Ellie at that moment. She looked like a fledgling witch.

“You'll never displace her,” Caro declared, “not in Jack's affections or as mistress here. You may have tricked my brother into marrying you, but don't expect me to like it.”

Ellie adjusted her gloves. “Is that a ‘no'? What a pity! Beau Brummel was hoping to meet you when we were out driving. Perhaps another time.”

She went down the stairs to meet Ash as though she hadn't a care in the world.

It did not take long for Ash to see through her forced gaiety. “Don't tell me Frances has been up to her old tricks,” he said.

“What tricks are those?” she asked archly.

“She must be the queen bee. They always sting their rivals to death. It's in their nature.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Now, that is very acute of you. But it's not Frances who has stung me.”

“Then it's Caro.”

She sighed. “She is devoted to Frances and seems to think I'm a threat to her. Of course she's wrong.”

Ash laughed. “No, Ellie, you're wrong. Frances's days as the queen bee are numbered, and there's nothing she can do about it. Caro knows this, too, but she's not ready to accept it.”

She watched him maneuver his team around a lady's phaeton before she replied, “The last time a queen bee took a dislike to me, I left the hive.” She was thinking of Dorothea. “I won't let that happen again.”

Ash grinned. “That's more like it.”

If she was to take in the season, she had to dress for the part of Jack's countess, and that meant ordering a complete new wardrobe. Jack was happy to leave everything in Ash's capable hands. He was an authority on ladies' fashions, a subject on which Jack felt out of his depth.

Thus it was that Ellie found herself, a few days later, on her way to Madame Clothilde's, one of London's most celebrated modistes, in an open curricle driven by Ash Denison. Had she visited the modiste with any other gentleman, the dowager told her, tongues would have begun to wag. But Ash's advice was sought after. That he had offered to be her mentor was a coup for her.

Madame Clothilde's establishment was on the Knightsbridge Road. This was Ellie's second visit. The first time, she and Ash had selected various designs and fabrics for the garments that were necessary to see her through the season—morning gowns, afternoon gowns, walking gowns, carriage dresses, and, of course, the inevitable ball gowns. The list was endless. Ellie felt guilty for spending so much money, but it was all done with Jack's approval. He trusted Ash, he said, not to bankrupt him. Moreover, he found the topic of ladies' fashions a dead bore, and since Parliament was now in session, he felt obliged to show his face in the House from time to time.

Ash scoffed at this. He couldn't think of anything more boring than sitting in the House of Lords when the real work of Parliament was done in the Commons. He'd far rather dress a pretty woman.

They left the groom standing by the horses' heads while they entered the premises. Madame saw her clients by appointment only, so there were no other customers to be waited on. She was in her early forties and the best advertisement for the garments she sold. Her silver hair flattered her patrician features. Her slender figure was clothed in a long-sleeved gown of deep lavender. Though she was eager to please, she was not intrusive. And her French accent, faint though it was after many years in England, was pleasant on the ears.

She led them upstairs, where two of her assistants were laying out a selection of garments that would see Ellie through the next few weeks, until the rest of her wardrobe was ready. There wasn't a gray gown in sight.

Ellie stood there entranced, her gaze moving slowly from one delectable creation to another. Ash, with a little help from Madame, had chosen the colors that suited her hazel eyes and auburn hair—shades of ivory, green, tawny brown, and gold. She had a vision of Jack following her with his eyes, struck dumb with admiration for the beautiful creature she'd become.

Ash was watching her intently. “I've arranged a little party,” he said, “with Jack's grandmother and Caro. We're to meet them at the Clarendon for dinner. Don't worry about Jack. He'll be tied up at the House for hours.”

“Dinner! At the Clarendon!” She knew the hotel by reputation. “Isn't that a bit risqué, Ash?”

“Nonsense. Didn't you hear me? The dowager and Caro will be there. Oh, I invited Robbie, too, but his friend Milton is in town and they're engaged to go to the theater with friends.”

“What about Frances?”

“I didn't bother to ask. She's hosting one of her literary get-togethers, don't you remember?” His eyes were twinkling.

Her lips began to twitch. “How did you persuade Caro to join us?”

“I promised that Beau Brummel would be there. Why have you stopped smiling?”

“I'm not dressed for a dinner party.”

“That,” he said patiently, “is why we are here.” He spoke to the modiste. “Madame, shall we begin?”