Lost Lords 6 - Not Quite a Wife (15 page)

Moody nodded. “She lives in Kirkland House in Berkeley Square. I never seen her go out alone, but most days she and Kirkland’s wife walk in the park, usually mid-afternoon. There’s always a footman, but since it’s fancy Mayfair, no one really expects trouble. Shouldn’t be hard to grab the girl and bring ’er here.”

Hardwick pursed his lips. “It would have to be timed to the tide so we could set sail right off. After all the trouble she’s caused me, I want the bitch’s mistress as well, so I’ll need a large coach.” He muttered a filthy oath. “Violet is turning into the most expensive bloody slave I ever bought.”

“She’s a damned fine-lookin’ mort, but by the time you’ve had her for a few months and you’re back in the Indies, you’ll be bored enough to sell ’er. If she’s not damaged, you’ll get most of your money back.”

The captain growled,“But I may want to damage her!”

Moody shrugged. Not his business what Hardwick did with his slaves. “What do you want me to do?”

“Keep watching. The more I know about their schedule, the easier this will be. When my cargo is ready and the tides are fair, we’ll be ready.” His tongue touched his lip. “I’ve waited bloody long enough!”

A
part from the class in self-defense that convinced Laurel she’d better stay close to a protective man like Kirkland, Laurel had two days of lazy relaxation after visiting Madame Hélier. Kirkland was out a good deal of the days, presumably getting caught up on all the work he’d neglected in pursuit of his long-estranged wife.

That left Laurel free to sleep late, read, walk in the park in front of the house, make music, and nap. Kirkland joined her for meals and sometimes they played the piano for each other, though they didn’t play together again. It was the most peaceful interval she’d had in more years than she could count.

But her holiday was over and it was almost time for the dreaded dinner party. As Laurel regarded her image in the mirror, Violet said, “This upswept style becomes you well, my lady.” She twisted a tendril of hair so it fell just right onto Laurel’s shoulder.

Laurel nodded agreement, but pointed out, “Perfection will vanish as soon as I leave my bedroom.”

Violet smiled. “You will still look very fine and will impress the people who worry you. Now hold still while I brush a little color on your cheeks.”

“I’ve become a painted woman,” Laurel said wryly. But she had to admit that a hint of rouge made her look better, particularly when she was pale with nerves.

When Violet stepped back, Laurel stood and studied herself in the dressing table mirror. Madame Hélier’s dinner gown was the same celestial blue that Kirkland had liked, but the cut and style were far superior to the dress she’d given away after the bloody death in the Zion House garden. She looked elegant in a quietly dignified way, and as close to beautiful as she could manage.

“I have a present for you, Violet. A thank-you for all your efforts to make me appear like a proper countess.” Laurel had placed the Devonshire brown silk in her clothespress, so she retrieved the parcel and handed it to her maid. “I hope you enjoy this.”

Violet carefully opened the wrapping, then stared at the richly colored fabric. “Oh, Miss Laurel! I’ve never had such a gift.” She stroked the silk, tears in her eyes. “It isn’t just the gift, but . . . but that you thought to give it to me.”

“I’m sure you’ll make the material into something truly splendid,” Laurel said.

“Splendid and very, very special,” Violet said softly.

A knock sounded on the connecting door. Violet brushed her eyes with her wrist, then opened the door so Kirkland could enter Laurel’s room.

“Since you said you’d be wearing blue, Laurel, I have a small gift for you.” He stopped in his tracks as Laurel turned to face him. “Oh my,” he breathed. “You are always beautiful, but tonight you’re—stun-ning.”

She blushed. Yes, she liked pleasing him. “You look rather splendid yourself, my lord.”

“Appearing like a fashionable man about town is a useful disguise.” He offered her a small jewelry box, looking surprisingly shy.

She gasped when she opened the box. Inside was an elegant gold cross set with sapphires. It was accompanied by simple hoop earrings set with more sapphires. But even more important than the beauty was that it was a cross. As Violet had said, it was the thought to give such a gift that was most precious of all because, in this case, it was her husband’s recognition that faith was a vital part of her life.

“How beautiful.” She removed the cross from the box. The chain was a complex weave of gold links, and the sapphires flashed blue fire. “Just right with this gown. Violet, please remove my pearls.” The double strand of pearls had been a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday and they were attractive but not particularly interesting. Tonight, she wanted to look interesting.

“I’ll do it.” Kirkland removed the pearls, the warm brush of his fingertips on her nape sending tingles straight to sensitive places.

Swallowing hard, she removed her pearl earrings and inserted the wires of the sapphire hoops. Then she stood very still while Kirkland fastened the cross around her throat. Mustn’t think about the warm fingers heating her blood. . . .

The chain was just the right length, for the cross fell above the neckline of the gown. “Perfect.” She turned to her husband. “You always know the right thing to do.”

“Would that that was true,” he murmured wryly. “Shall we descend? Guests will be arriving soon.”

She took his proffered arm. “Forth into battle, my lord.”

“Not battle,” he protested. “Just a quiet dinner with friends you haven’t met yet.”

“I hope you’re right!” As they left the room, she dismissed Violet for the evening. She guessed the girl would immediately start sketching designs for the silk.

When they stepped from Laurel’s bedroom into the upstairs corridor, a burble of cheerful voices could be heard rising from downstairs.

“It sounds as if several of our guests have already arrived,” Kirkland observed as they headed toward the stairs. “The Ashtons and Randalls would share a carriage since the Randalls stay at Ashton House whenever they’re in London.”

Ashton was a duke, Laurel recalled. “Ashton and Randall are such good friends?”

“They are. Ashton House is huge and when Randall was in the army, he was seldom in London and didn’t need a full-time residence here. Ashton gave him his own suite of rooms for whenever he wants to use them.”

The duke sounded generous. “Even now that both men are married?”

“Their wives, Mariah and Julia, are best friends.” Kirkland smiled down at her. “You’ll get it sorted out soon enough.”

To Laurel, his words underlined the fact that these people knew each other very well and she was an outsider. She raised her chin. She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but it was necessary if she was to move between Kirkland’s house and her own. She didn’t have to be best friends with any of these people. Civility would do.

As they approached the top of the steps, Kirkland said, “Now to present my friends with the surprise I promised.”

Laurel stopped in her tracks, forcing him to stop also. “You didn’t explain why you invited them?”

“You didn’t want them to form judgments about you, so a surprise introduction seemed best.”

Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “This is one of those rare occasions when I understand the impulse to violence. A little push down the stairs . . .”

He grinned. “I really think this will be better because when they meet you they’ll understand why I fell head over heels for you.”

She rolled her eyes but stepped onto the stairs. “It’s time to test your theory.”

As Laurel and Kirkland descended, he patted her hand where it clasped his arm. For all the tension between them, she still found his touch comforting.

They moved into view of the people churning about the foyer. Four out of five of the couples invited had arrived. They were all good looking and intimidatingly well dressed, London’s beau monde personified.

The chatter stopped and Laurel felt eight sets of curious eyes on her. “Good evening,” Kirkland said, his voice carrying easily to those below. “Thank you for coming tonight to meet my wife, Laurel.”

There was an audible gasp and the gazes intensified. The expressions of several of the men turned to granite, as did the face of one woman, an elegant redhead. The other guests mostly looked surprised.

Laurel and Kirkland reached the bottom of the steps and a strikingly good-looking blond man stepped forward with a smile. He was the one male who didn’t look like granite, so presumably he didn’t know the history. “Congratulations, Kirkland! This was unexpected. Have you just returned from Gretna Green with your lovely lady?” He bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kirkland.”

These were Kirkland’s closest friends and some of them already knew part of the story, so Laurel would jolly well tell them the truth. “The pleasure is mutual, and will become even greater when I know who you are, sir. But we are not newlyweds.” She smiled sweetly. “Kirkland and I have been married eleven years, separated for ten, and only recently have reconciled.”

The blond man was briefly off balance, but he rallied quickly. “It took you a full year to realize Kirkland was impossible to live with? You must be very resilient!” he said with a laugh. “I’m Wyndham, by the way.”

This was the man whose presumed death had indirectly led to Laurel leaving her husband? Wyndham seemed too light in spirit to have been imprisoned for ten years. “I’m so glad to see you whole and well,” she said sincerely. “It’s rather a miracle.”

“Credit for that goes to my amazingly patient wife.” He hooked an arm out and drew the redhead to his side. “Lady Kirkland, meet my wife Cassie. Lady Wyndham.”

The redhead murmured a polite greeting. She didn’t look hostile, exactly, but her gaze was sharp enough to cut steel.

Kirkland’s hand came to rest on the small of Laurel’s back with intimate reassurance. “Time to make our way to the drawing room. There’s more space for introductions, not to mention sherry, claret, and other pleasures.”

Relocating and serving drinks gave Laurel a few minutes to collect herself and study the guests. Thank heaven she’d visited Madame Hélier. If she’d been wearing one of her old gowns, she would have felt like a housemaid, and a rather shabby one at that.

Laurel hadn’t much taste for alcohol, but she asked for a small sherry since it gave her something to fidget with. Kirkland brought her a glass. “Time for the introductions.” He began with the Randalls, the reserved blond major and his petite brunette wife, Lady Julia. Lady Julia was the midwife, so Laurel hoped they could talk more later.

Then Kirkland escorted Laurel to a lean, dark man of middle height, mild demeanor, and striking green eyes. “Laurel, you’ve heard me speak of Ashton.”

Kirkland had said the duke was the kind of friend one spoke to when life fell apart, and from Ashton’s expression, it was clear he hadn’t forgotten Kirkland’s pain. For now he was withholding judgment, but Laurel suspected that Ashton would not be easily convinced that Laurel wasn’t the villain of the piece.

Searching her memory, she said, “Besides the years at the Westerfield Academy, you were at Balliol College with Kirkland, weren’t you?”

“Indeed we were.” Ashton studied her face. “You share a strong resemblance with your brother Daniel.”

Hearing her brother’s name was steadying. He had been one of the Westerfield Academy students, after all. She felt less of an outsider. “So we’ve always been told.”

“You must meet my wife.” Ashton beckoned to a petite golden blonde. She joined him, tucking her hand around Ashton’s arm with wifely familiarity. She was strikingly beautiful and Laurel sensed natural warmth, but like her husband, the duchess had her doubts about Kirkland’s wife.

Kirkland said, “This is Mariah, sometimes known as the golden duchess.”

Another golden haired woman who looked exactly like Mariah joined them. “And I’m Sarah, the poor relation,” she said with a smile. “A mere golden countess.”

Identical twins. Laurel’s gaze moved from duchess to countess and back again. “Are the two of you often confused with each other? And when that happens, are you amused or irritated?”

The twins looked at each other and laughed. The duchess said, “It depends on the circumstances. Mostly I’m amused.”

“I don’t mind as long as no one tries to separate me from Rob.” Sarah directed a dazzling smile at the tall, brown haired man at her side.

Her husband’s handsome features seemed severe except when he gazed at his wife and his expression softened. “If anyone tried to separate us, they would fail,” he said. His gaze moved back to Laurel. “I’m Kellington, Lady Kirkland. Though I’ve been Rob Carmichael for so long that I answer better to that. ”

His expression was assessing. Laurel remembered that Carmichael was another of those who knew that Kirkland had a long-estranged wife. She also suspected that he had reasons not to be fond of his title. A difficult father, perhaps.

“Do you prefer Rob, Carmichael, or Kellington?” she asked.

He smiled a little. “All three will do, in that order of preference.”

“Very well, Rob.” Laurel returned her attention to the twins. “I shall do my best to recognize the differences between the duchess and the countess.”

Mariah asked curiously, “Based on less than five minutes of acquaintance, what differences do you see?”

During her years working in Bristol, Laurel had developed good powers of observation, but five minutes wasn’t much. She scrutinized them individually. “I would say that you are more outgoing, duchess,” she said slowly, “and your sister is quieter, but perhaps more confident. Lady Kellington’s face is a little narrower.” She studied the duchess, seeing a subtle, Madonna softness. “Have you recently become a mother?”

The sisters exchanged glances again. Sarah said, “She’s very observant.”

Mariah nodded. “My darling son is not quite four months old.”

“In the future, I’ll do my best to recognize you individually,” Laurel promised, “but I’ll surely make mistakes when I see one of you across a crowded room.”

“As long as you at least try,” Mariah said. “The most annoying people are those who just come up and ask which twin I am.”

Sarah made a face. “Then they look disappointed to learn that it’s just me, not the golden duchess.”

“Tiresome,” Laurel commented. “So sometimes you lie, because why indulge the curiosity of people who are too lazy to make the effort?”

The twins exchanged another glance. “That would be childish,” Sarah said.

“And a duchess is never childish,” Mariah said piously. “She is always a model of saintly decorum.”

Her sister batted her lashes innocently. “As are countesses.”

Their husbands broke into laughter. Rob Carmichael shook his head. “As you’ve probably deduced, Lady Kirkland, put Sarah and Mariah together and they’re more mischief than two kittens in a sack.”

The banter was interrupted by the arrival of the fifth couple, which produced a flurry of greetings. Sir Damian and Lady Kiri Mackenzie. He was a tall, broad fellow with an infectious smile while his tall, dark-haired wife was vividly attractive and had green eyes to match Ashton’s. From the way Lady Kiri greeted Ashton, they were clearly brother and sister. Still more bonds within the group.