Love With the Perfect Scoundrel (18 page)

The dowager duchess had agreed it would trump any doubt of the continued good relations between the three great Portman Square families who had rubbed shoulders for generations. Even Quinn’s nine-year-old daughter, Fairleigh, was called to service by taking tea at Sheffield House every day, usually with her new stepmother, Georgiana.

“Georgiana…” Grace signaled as the other ladies in their secret club filed out of the sumptuous front salon, filled with all of the artifacts John Sheffey had collected during his well-traveled lifetime. The other ladies’ soft-soled slippers barely made a sound on the beautiful patterned marble hall and entryway beyond.

Georgiana looked down at Grace’s hand on her sleeve and then met her gaze. “Yes, Grace?”

“I would ask a favor of you.”

“Anything.”

“Would you come to my apartments instead of going with the others to the park?”

“Of course.” Georgiana’s face was grave, so unlike the open countenance Grace had known in Cornwall before her friend had married the man Grace was supposed to have met at the altar.

Grace nodded and they joined the others in the hall. The ladies gathered around as they waited for the carriage to arrive from the mews.

“Grace, dearest,” Ata murmured, “it shall be a grand success. And it will be all your doing. Don’t think for a moment that you’ve fooled us. Organizing this lovely event for Georgiana and Quinn is a monumental undertaking. I do wish you’d allow us to help you more.”

“Well, you may depend on me begging your aid the morning of the masquerade, when every disaster will strike as they always are wont to do.” Grace smoothed her gown and smiled. “Oh, and have you all chosen costumes?”

Fairleigh jumped up and down excitedly. “Oh, I do wish Papa would let me go too.”

“My dearest one, I shall promise to organize a ball just for you the season you have your official presentation at court.” Grace stroked the blonde curls of the little girl who would have been her stepdaughter.

There were stars in the girl’s eyes as she envisioned the future. At the sound of a carriage halting in front of the townhouse, Fairleigh hugged Grace and flew down the steps. After a flurry of well-wishing, everyone took their leave save Elizabeth, who pleaded a headache and retreated to her chamber, leaving Georgiana and Grace alone.

Side by side, they watched the party handed into the formal Berline coach, and waved as the conveyance departed at a spanking pace toward Hyde Park at the height of the fashionable hour. Then silently, they mounted the vast expanse of cold, marble stairs leading to the bedchambers above. Grace had nearly forgotten how convenient it had been to live in a small manor where it took less than half a minute to go from one end of the house to the other.

Once inside her elegant suite of rooms, Grace retrieved a tiny pair of scissors from her embroidery basket. “Georgiana, I’m sorry to ask this of you, but truly, you’re the only one I can trust not to lecture me.”

“I would never dare to lecture you on any subject,” Georgiana said, her eyes downcast.

“I shall hold you to that.” Grace presented her back to her friend. “I need your help disrobing.”

After a beat, Grace felt Georgiana’s fingers working the buttons. She was amused by Georgiana’s silence. Under other circumstances, Georgiana would have been full of questions.

The gown and corset loosened, Grace removed them save for her shift, then offered the other lady the scissors.

Georgiana’s eyes filled with ill ease and she cleared her throat. “What—”

Grace interrupted. “Take them.”

“Of course,” Georgiana forced out.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Grace smiled. “Would you like a bit of brandy? Might make you feel more at ease.”

Georgiana’s face had lost its color. “No, no. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Sounds like something I would say,” Grace murmured. Without any of her former reserve, she lowered the front of her shift to reveal the wound under her breast. “I need you to remove the stitches. They are at an awkward angle, and I can’t do it myself.” The tension in the room simmered, as thick and as awful as Grace’s disastrous stew in Yorkshire.

Georgiana’s expression brewed with a host of subdued concern. “Grace, what hap—” She stopped. “What I mean to say is, perhaps this would be easiest if you were to lie down.”

Grace reclined on the pink toile chaise while Georgiana knelt on the soft Aubusson carpet. The scent of hothouse roses drifted heavy in the air.

Grace covered her exposed breast with a palm and glanced down at Georgiana’s pretty head, her brown hair glossy like the dark water of a beck.

Georgiana alternately clipped and removed the threads. It was odd how little it hurt for them to be removed.

Her friend finally straightened and Grace rearranged her shift.

“I doubt there will be much of a scar,” Georgiana said. “Whoever ministered to you knew precisely what they were doing and matched the edges perfectly. I wish someone as skilled as this had stitched my injuries all those years ago.”

Grace had not forgotten the childhood accident that had damaged and scarred her friend’s lower limbs.

“Grace?”

“Yes?”

“I want to thank you.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?”

“No. Thank you for trusting me with this. I would have thought I’d be the last person you would ever ask to do something as private as this.”

“And that is why I asked you, Georgiana.”

“Grace, I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.” Georgiana’s words came out in a rush. “I should have told you I had been in love with Quinn almost my entire life. It’s just that I never thought he would feel similarly. You and he were so beautiful together, and I was—”

“No. You are not to say another word,” Grace interrupted. “It is as I said in the letter when I left. My heart was not fully engaged and I think I always knew he loved you. Georgiana, please look at me.”

A flush had traveled up her friend’s neck, and Georgiana finally raised her eyes. “Yes?”

“I was too distraught to sit through anyone’s apologies a month ago—not yours or Quinn’s. And a week or so ago, I was in another world, too lost to drown in thoughts of what happened this last autumn. But a week from this moment, if we don’t act right now, we will have set a new pattern of living…one that is full of ill ease and discomfort. Georgiana, you were my friend once, can you not be again?”

Georgiana’s eyes filled with tears and she fell into Grace’s arms, her body shuddering in wracking sobs.

Grace stroked the other woman’s unruly locks. “You know this is vastly unfair of you. Aren’t you supposed to be comforting
me
?”

“But you were always the only one of us who could be depended on for a handkerchief,” Georgiana said when she could speak. “I don’t know what has become of me, really. I’ve lately become the worst sort of watering pot. Oh Grace, I’ve missed you so much. We all have. It’s just not the same without you. Luc and Quinn keep threatening to rename our club.”

“Really?” She looked at her friend with bemusement.

“Yes.” Georgiana accepted Grace’s perfectly pressed handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “In fact, we decided that since you were the true beauty in the circle, it would be deception to call ourselves the Barely Bereaving Beauties without you.”

Grace bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. “Deception?”

“Well, you know how Ata is. She’s determined to see Elizabeth or Sarah wed this season. And she has this new idea that we should not keep our club a secret any longer.”

“But I thought she insisted on secrecy because she was certain no one would want to invite a group of morose widows to any amusement.” Grace shook her head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe Luc once called us a gaggle of weeping crows, did he not?”

Georgiana giggled.

Oh, it felt so right to laugh with Georgiana again.

“Yes, well, lately His Grace has been in the most foulish kind of mood. Quinn says it’s because Luc’s finished writing his last book and he’s at odds with the world. Ata suggested he start something new. She’s even suggested a title.” Georgiana’s expression spoke volumes.

“And that would be?”

“
The Wicked Ways of Willful Widows
.”

Grace choked and began to cough.

“She had the audacity to suggest in a very mysterious-like manner that
some
in our club are playing it very
fast and loose
lately, or some other vulgar term. Honestly, I don’t know where she gets these ideas.”

Grace drew in an uneven breath. “I can’t imagine.”

“Well, she thinks it’s a book that would be devoured by the
ton
.”

“Lord help us all.”

Georgiana’s face lit up with happiness. “Oh, Grace. I’m so happy we’re all together again.”

“As am I.” Grace watched her friend’s hands drift low to cradle her stomach. Suddenly Grace noticed that Georgiana’s physique was slightly lusher than ever before. “But isn’t there something else you want to tell me? A secret, perhaps?”

Georgiana’s mouth opened slightly and she hesitated.

Grace grasped her hands. “Tell me.”

Michael stood in Mrs. Kane’s comfortable, small chamber at the foundling home, nearly overcome with memories of his youth. The scent of her precious lavender mixed with musty books wafted through the small room as he gazed at the familiar assortment of trinkets on the lace-covered bureau.

“I beg you to reconsider, Michael. You’ve the most skill,” Mrs. Kane cajoled.

“No.”

“But I promise no one will recognize you. It is, after all, a private masquerade,” Mrs. Kane continued. “And it’s the least you could do.”

“I thought the least I could do was provide enough food to feed an army of children,” he said dryly.

“Please.”

“Absolutely not.” He stared at Mrs. Kane. “You of all people know I cannot. Victoria Givan will show the eldest boy how to conduct. She’s an excellent organist.”

The mistress of the foundling home had learned the art of begging a little too well. But then, she had no doubt acquired the skill nearly sixty years ago, soon after she had been placed in the infamous basket in front of the newly hatched Hospital for Exposed and Deserted Children.

“Listen to me, Michael. I shall secure a cape and domino which will cover almost all of your face.”

“I don’t know why I dared think you might have changed, Mrs. Kane.”

“Well, I like that. And here I prayed for your departed soul for over a decade, and you have the temerity to deny me this tiny favor?”

“I’d hoped addressing your request would buy your forgiveness.” He walked a small circle, glancing at all her trinkets and hoping her lecture would end sooner versus later.

“I still can’t believe you allowed me to think you dead. How could you not have trusted me? You trusted Samuel Bryn, I see.” She snorted. “And what is this name you’ve adopted? Ranier, indeed.”

“It
is
my name—my mother’s name. Even you must agree that I had no choice but to find an alias.” He couldn’t bear to tell her that the original name she knew him by was even farther removed from the truth. “So, is Manning still searching for me?”

She avoided his gaze. “Well…he increased the reward. Mr. Jenkins used to announce the new incentive each year, when a runner or two would visit the boys’ side. They thoroughly canvassed the west wing every month the first year you disappeared. I still can’t imagine how you were able to secure passage to the colonies. I was certain you’d been lost to the filth in the rookeries.”

“I tried that route for a few weeks, but was lucky enough to find a job as cook’s helper on a privateer’s ship. Seems a press gang abducted half the crew.” He continued dryly, “So all those endless hours preparing every boy here for a mariner’s life proved useful in the end. Our Mr. Jenkins was an excellent master.”

“Well,” Mrs. Kane said with a frown. “As I’m sure you can guess, there are few who mourn him. I’m sorry for what he did to you and many other boys, Michael. For the beatings, the horrid apprenticeships, the meager food and coal Mr. Jenkins sold to line his own pockets. I’m sorry for so many things.”

“No. You musn’t be. If not for you, so many more of us would’ve died. You were a mother to each and every one of us as much as you could be.”

“If you truly consider me as such, then you must do as I ask.”

He shook his head. “The eldest boy can serve as choirmaster at the event. He has two days to practice.”

“But the entertainment is to take place at a private residence. There’s absolutely no chance of anyone recognizing you. For goodness sakes, Michael, it’s been an age since you disappeared. You barely resemble the boy of five and ten I last saw. You know there won’t be runners mingling with the guests.”

Preoccupied, he looked away and abstractedly rubbed the edge of his hat. “You’ve not asked me yet if I did it.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Perhaps you do.”

“You’ve forgotten that I know Rowland Manning and I knew his awful brother, a bad seed in every respect. Every boy who worked there said Howard was a thief. I’ll never believe Rowland Manning no matter what he or anyone says.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, gratitude in every syllable.

“But, I should warn you that his enterprise has thrived. Indeed, Manning has expanded in an astonishing fashion and enjoys the Prince Regent’s favor. But, you’ll be happy to know that after Mr. Jenkins died, I was finally allowed an audience with the board of governors. The new master takes up his duties in a fortnight. He’s cut from an entirely different cloth than Mr. Jenkins.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” Michael said quietly. “But not happy to hear the other whip-loving bugger is prospering, damn Rowland Manning’s soul to hell.”

“Michael!”

“Pardon me, Mrs. Kane. And no, I see that look in your eye. I’ll not do your bidding to earn forgiveness.”

She looked at him silently for a long moment. “You know, I debated with myself as to whether I should tell you this, but I’ve run out of arguments. When the Countess of Sheffield came here three days ago—”

He interrupted her with a start. “The
Countess of Sheffield
? What in bloody hell was she doing here?”