Intriguing Lady (23 page)

Lord Bromley looked rumpled, but there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

“That young man in the dining room, Roberta,” he said without preamble, “is quite remarkable. I hope you treated him with due respect.”

Roberta laughed in relief. She had been certain her uncle had summoned her to persuade her to change her mind about Sir Nicholas, but obviously that was furthest from his mind.

“I gave him a withering look when he presumed to engage me in conversation and have just now left him crying in despair on Mrs. Ashley’s shoulder,” she said gaily. “Really, Uncle, I’m surprised you even ask. It’s your shocking lapse in manners that should be questioned. Sir Lacey was nonplussed, to say the least, when he realized you had abandoned him to the ministrations of two ladies.”

“Nonsense, my gal, nonsense,” Lord Bromley responded jovially. “He must get used to being plunged into unexpected situations. He has to learn to hold his own, to act like a chameleon and take on the hue of his surroundings. Once he has mastered all those arts, he’ll go far. Mark my words, Roberta, he’ll go far.”

“You’re very jolly this morning,” she teased. “Has Sir Lacey, perchance, managed to solve some of your more pressing problems?”

“If you mean ‘has he discovered what secrets have been passed to the enemy?’ the answer is yes. And the comte used the oldest ploy in the world, Roberta, to extract these secrets from my colleagues.”

“Feminine wiles?” Roberta suggested.

“Yes, feminine wiles. The comte employed a certain young lady of great beauty, known as Veronique, who enticed my colleagues into her boudoir. There, after being administered drugged drinks, they willingly answered all the questions she asked. I can only presume that Lambert and Tytler realized what they had done and, disgraced at being unwitting traitors, took their own lives.”

“How did Sir Lacey manage to make this young lady talk?” Roberta inquired, impressed by the young man’s discovery.

“By speaking of Tytler. She had no idea he was dead, and was very upset when she heard of his untimely demise. Unbeknownst to the comte, she had made the fatal mistake of falling in love with him.”

“Oh, the poor girl,” Roberta exclaimed, immediately understanding her plight. “How terrible for her.”

“Doubly so,” Lord Bromley remarked. “For Lacey is convinced that she had no idea how she was being used by the comte. Her only interest was the money she received. It seems she has an invalid brother who needs expensive help.”

“The fiend! Yet it is what one should expect, I suppose. Men like the comte always manipulate the weak. What will happen to her now?”

“We’ll take care of her and her brother, as long as she agrees to testify against the comte.”

“And will she?”

“I’ll know later, when Nicholas returns.”

“Will—will her testimony provide sufficient proof?” Roberta inquired, deliberately veering away from the subject of Sir Nicholas.

“If she doesn’t falter. However, as I daren’t depend on her, it is still imperative that we force the comte to compromise himself.” He broke off and stared out of the window, a pensive expression on his face.

“And you still want me to aid you, is that it?”

“Not if you don’t want to, Roberta,” he responded. “Nicholas and I discussed that aspect last night after you left us. I can find another way, if need be, of informing the comte that I possess Tytler’s letter of confession.”

“But it would be more expedient if I were the conduit?”

“It would.”

“Very well, Uncle. Then you must tell me what I am to do.”

*

Roberta was thoughtful when she left Lord Bromley’s study half an hour later, and she hoped his optimism wouldn’t prove unfounded. Now there was nothing any of them could do until the comte paid her a call. In spite of Lord Bromley’s certainty that that event would occur later the same day, she wasn’t at all sure. She couldn’t quite believe that the contretemps caused by Stephen would cause the comte to rush back to London to see her.

Lord Bromley was correct, though. Not fifteen minutes after she had left her uncle, the butler announced the comte had called.

“Show him into the front parlor,” she said. “I will join him there. Please inform my uncle that he has arrived.”

It was a full twenty minutes, however, before she could summon sufficient courage to face him. And it was to her credit that, when she eventually entered the parlor, she looked genuinely pleased to see him.

“How glad I am that you chose such a melancholy day to visit,” she remarked. “My spirits are in need of a diversion that only you can provide.”

The comte caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “
Mon enfant
, why are you so sad? Could it be that you are already regretting your engagement to Sir Nicholas?”

Roberta started and pulled her hand away. “I had hoped that story wouldn’t have reached you,” she whispered forlornly. “It’s not true, and if Mr. Davenport hadn’t behaved so vilely, I could have informed Sir Nicholas that I had no intention of accepting his offer.”

“So Sir Nicholas did propose, did he?”

“Yes,” Roberta responded. “That I can’t deny. Oh! monsieur, if only you had been there last night, none of this would have happened.”

“
Ma pauvre enfant.
Please don’t distress yourself. I will stand by you and lend what support I can.”

“Why, thank you, monsieur, that is most gallant of you. Although, in my present state of despondency, even that kind offer will do little to elevate my spirits, I’m afraid.”

“What else has happened to overset you?” he inquired quickly.

“My depression is caused by the death of one of my friends. The scene last night merely added to it.”

“A close friend?” he asked, squeezing her hand sympathetically.

Roberta nodded and allowed the tears that had suddenly welled up in her eyes to flow freely down her cheeks. “Please forgive me,” she mumbled into his corded jacket. “It was just that Tytler was like a brother to me.”

“Tytler Edwardson?” the comte queried. As Roberta looked up at him, she saw his eyes narrow in a calculating fashion. “I had no idea he was dead,” he added. “When did it happen?”

“You knew him?” Roberta asked, feigning surprise.

“Not well,” he responded suavely. “We were merely nodding acquaintances.”

“Then you can’t really know what a sad loss it is. Poor, poor Tytler. And to have killed himself the day after he told me that he had made certain preparations to clear his name…” She broke off in distress. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?” she whispered.

“I wasn’t aware of any slur attached to his name,” the comte remarked casually. “Perhaps you misheard him, mon enfant.” He walked over to the window and stared out. “What, exactly, did he say?” he inquired casually.

Roberta shrugged and joined him in the recess. She noticed immediately that the knife sharpener was back in his position under the oak tree, and this distracted her for a moment. “I—I can’t recall,” she said nervously. “I—I assumed he was talking about his ill-fated liaison with Sir Lacey Stigmore’s sister.”

“I hadn’t heard that on-dit.”

“Oh, dear! Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But the fact remains that I don’t understand why Tytler saw fit to end his own life, when he had written to Sir Lacey with a full explanation of his behavior.” She was watching him intently and was gratified to see a look of alarm flit across his face. “I mean, what shame could Tytler possibly have brought to the Edwardson name that would make him take such a drastic step?” She fumbled in the folds of her dress for her pocket and finally located her handkerchief. She drew it out and, under the pretext of blowing her nose, was able to study his obvious discomfort at her news.

“Have you seen this letter?” he inquired with some urgency.

“No…no, not yet, but maybe when my uncle has it, he will let me read it.”

“I don’t understand,” the comte said.

“When I heard of Tytler’s death and told my uncle of the letter, he summoned Sir Lacey here in order to obtain a copy. I believe my uncle wanted to satisfy himself of the true cause of Tytler’s suicide.”

The comte swore softly.

“Have I said something to concern you?” she asked.

“Not really. It’s just that I saw Sir Lacey last night, and he didn’t mention anything about it.”

“I don’t find that surprising, monsieur. He would, I’m sure, be reluctant to discuss it with anyone for fear of inflicting further damage on his sister’s reputation.”

The comte laughed. To Roberta, it sounded more like a sneer. “Of course, mon enfant. I forgot for a moment how prudish you English are.”

“Quite so,” she murmured, and moved away, wondering how she could persuade him to go before Mrs. Ashley discovered her alone with him.

The problem, however, was solved by the comte himself moments later. He drew out his time piece and exclaimed in affected annoyance, “Please forgive me, ma chérie. I must take my leave of you. I’m expected somewhere in a few minutes on urgent business.”

“Will you call on me again soon?” she asked.

“I will not allow so much time to elapse before I see you again; that I promise.” He walked over to her and taking her chin in his hand, forced her to look up at him. “Au revoir, ma chérie,” he murmured.

For a moment Roberta thought he was going to kiss her, and she quickly averted her face. “Please, monsieur, Ashley may join us any minute.”

“The day will soon be here when you can dispense with such maidenly concern,” he snapped, and was gone before Roberta could respond.

When Mrs. Ashley entered, ten minutes later, Roberta was still standing in the middle of the room. She looked deathly pale, and Mrs. Ashley hurried over to her.

“My dear Roberta,” she said. “I have just had a long talk with Lord Bromley and am here to tell you not to worry unduly about the events of last night. He has told me exactly what happened, and I won’t increase your suffering by discussing it further with you. However, I want you to know I sympathize with your plight, and will do anything I can to help ease your pain. Would it help if we retired to the country for the rest of the Season?”

“Oh, Ashley, dear, dear Ashley!” Roberta cried, completely overwhelmed by her companion’s concern. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and with uncommon meekness, she allowed Mrs. Ashley to lead her to the sofa.

“There, there, my dear,” Mrs. Ashley murmured. “Sit down. A good cry will do you a world of good.” She cradled Roberta in her arms, whispering endearments all the while.

Roberta’s sobbing increased; she was unable to control herself in the face of such gentleness. She clung to Mrs. Ashley, oblivious to everything except her own misery.

Eventually, though, she became aware of Mrs. Ashley’s stroking her hair, and she drew comfort from being cossetted like a child. Her crying subsided, and she gratefully accepted the delicate lace handkerchief Mrs. Ashley proffered.

“Dry your eyes, child, and then, if you wish, we can talk.”

“There’s nothing to say,” Roberta responded after she had blown her nose. “Nothing at all.” The truth was, though, she wanted nothing more than to confide in Mrs. Ashley. “See,” she continued, forcing herself to smile, “I feel much better already. I think I have been wanting to indulge myself in a bout of tears since I discovered my illness was not incurable.”

“And a very natural impulse it is, too,” Mrs. Ashley responded with such understanding that Roberta was hard put not to cry again. “You have been through so much this past year, I’m surprised you haven’t broken down sooner. Now, my dear, I’m going to prescribe a walk in the gardens. The fresh air will do you a world of good, and might even put some color into your cheeks.”

Mrs. Ashley’s prosaic attitude was all that Roberta needed to restore her spirits, and she nodded her agreement.

“If you don’t mind, though, Ashley, I will go and see Lord Bromley first. There is something I want to ask him.”

“He went out, my dear, almost immediately after we had concluded our discussion. I believe a note from Sir Nicholas was the cause of his sudden departure. Anyway, before he left, he said he had no idea when he would return.”

Roberta frowned. It was strange that her uncle would disappear before she had told him what had transpired between herself and the comte.

“Oh, and I almost forgot, for my head’s in such a muddle today, he asked me to tell you that Perkins informed him of the situation regarding Tytler’s letter. And he said there was no need for you to worry about it.”

Roberta nodded. She should have known her uncle wouldn’t have left her alone with the comte without insuring that help was near at hand. Perkins must have been outside the door and heard every word of her conversation with the comte.

“He didn’t tell you where he was going, I suppose?” she asked.

“No,” Mrs. Ashley said with a shake of her head. “He was in a great hurry, so I can only assume it was something important, for you know he hates to rush.”

An uneasiness gripped Roberta which she couldn’t shake, and she turned to Mrs. Ashley urgently. “That dream you had, Ashley, please tell me how it ended.”

“I—I told you, Roberta, I awoke before—”

“Please, Ashley,” Roberta interrupted impatiently. “You must tell me, especially in light of the events of last night.”