Natalya (35 page)

"I remember you very well, Mrs. Hampshire," Natalya said, extending her hand. "When I was a child, Maman took me to Hampshire House to see your three babies after their christening. I thought I was very important, touching the babies of a senator, even though I wasn't entirely certain what a senator
was
!"

Amid the ensuing laughter, Alec said, "I'll have refreshments sent up." None of the women noticed when he disappeared.

"Since the nation's capital was moved from Philadelphia to Washington, our visits here have been far too scarce and brief to suit me," Meagan said as they sat down together. "How difficult it is to realize that our children have all grown! The war has stolen Ben and Michael, but Susan is with us. Wait until you see her, Natalya! She's quite the coquette, yet I have reason to believe that Susie may be falling in love at last. I have such dreams for her wedding!"

"I know what you mean," Caro said, with a wry smile. "My own wedding was such a hurried affair that I long to give my daughters more. Yet Kristin cannot find a man she judges worthy, and Talya seems set against the notion of marriage altogether."

Natalya felt obliged to reply, though her usual arguments sounded hollow somehow. "I simply want to remain an individual, and that is difficult to do in a marriage. As long as I am able to retain financial independence, why should I restrict myself in a marriage?"

Caro and Meagan looked at each other for a long moment, their delicate brows lifted slightly. Taking a breath, Meagan said, "I suppose that makes a good deal of sense, in theory, but love rarely heeds philosophy. When you meet the man who challenges your mind, arouses your senses, and treats you with respect and justice, all the theories in the world won't matter."

Caro smiled and nodded. "Well said, Meagan."

"Of course, it will not be easy for you to meet such a man if you stay hidden here at Belle Maison—"

"I am writing a book!" Natalya protested.

"Very admirable, I'm sure, but you must have fun as well! I would like to do my part to welcome you back to America, so Lion and I would like to give a party in your honor. Would that please you?" Meagan's tone was firm yet kind. "I thought it would be lovely to have the party in the afternoon. Our gardens at Hampshire House are glorious this month, and Bramble, our cook, is already planning the food. Even Stringfellow has offered his services, so you simply must agree!"

"How kind you are, Meagan," Caro exclaimed, her face aglow with pleasure. Turning to her daughter, she said, "It would be a wonderful opportunity for you to meet people your own age."

"You mean men, don't you, Maman?" Natalya smiled in spite of herself. "But, of course I'll agree. It is very generous of you and Senator Hampshire to go to so much trouble for me."

"Good!" Meagan clapped her hands triumphantly. "I must confess that I am happier than you can imagine to have a reason for a real party. I miss our friends here. It was a stroke of good fortune that we had to come north to meet with Devon and Andre Raveneau when they came from Connecticut last month, otherwise I should never have been able to shake Lion loose from Washington. Now, we've lingered on to enjoy the spring, and this party for Natalya will be a perfect way to crown our weeks in Philadelphia. How
pleased
I am!"

Alec appeared then, carrying a silver tray laden with blown-glass tumblers etched with a tulip pattern. The glasses were filled with iced lemonade, and Hyla had sent along a plate of freshly baked molasses applesauce cookies. Kristin followed her father into the library, sipping from her own glass of lemonade, and pulled up a chair to join the group in front of the fireplace.

"Isn't it a divine afternoon in spite of the showers?" she asked. "Mrs. Hampshire is giving a party and we shall have a full week to dream about it. I wonder if I should have a new gown made?"

"How did you know about the party?" Natalya inquired, a bit put out that her sister had begun making plans before she had even agreed to the affair.

"Papa and I spoke to Mrs. Hampshire downstairs. Aren't you thrilled? Oh, Talya, wait until you see Susan Hampshire! She's one of my dearest friends—even though she does steal away half my beaux!" Glancing at Meagan, she hastened to add, "Not that she means to. It's just that Susie is the most captivating creature. I fear that Grey St. James will take one look at her and fall desperately in love."

Meagan leaned forward at the mention of Grey. "I am looking forward to meeting this man myself. I do hope he accepts our invitation. I have heard that he is devastatingly handsome."

"He looks much like Papa did when he was young," Kristin agreed. "And he's utterly charming and witty, in that very attractive, dry sort of way."

"Well, I wouldn't count on St. James making an appearance, " Alec interjected. "I've yet to pry him out of the Spruce Street house. He always has a glib reason not to come out with me, but it still seems damned odd." He shrugged, adding, "It's almost as if he's hiding, but for what purpose I cannot imagine."

Natalya, who had been dying for days to ask her father if he had news of Grey, turned these words over in her mind, then set them aside to examine later at length. At the moment, Kristin's future was more important. "Mrs. Hampshire," she said, turning toward Meagan, "I do hope that you will invite Kristin's friend, Hollis Gladstone. He is surely one of the finest men in Philadelphia."

Kristin gave her a quizzical look. "I wasn't aware that you and Hollis were well acquainted."

"We've become friends, and I like him enormously," she replied, looking directly into Kristin's eyes.

"Hollis Gladstone, did you say?" Meagan put in, oblivious to the tension between the two sisters. "I'll certainly add him to our list, and anyone else you would like to invite."

"That's very kind; thank you," Natalya said, with a polite smile, watching her sibling out of the corner of her eye.

"It's getting rather warm in here. I believe I'll go and sort through my gowns," Kristin announced, and rose gracefully from her chair. "My intuition tells me that Grey St. James
will
come to the Hampshires' party, and I intend to be prepared!"

She bade Meagan a polite good afternoon and had just reached the doorway when a fuming Natalya hurried after her. From the hallway, Natalya's raised voice carried clearly back to the three older adults seated in the library.

"Krissie, don't be a dolt! He's only a man under his looks, and a complicated one at that. He's jaded and hard—and far too old for you! Besides, he hasn't always looked like this. When I met him he was thin and pale - "

Kristin continued on to her bedchamber, out of earshot of their parents and Meagan Hampshire. Once there, she whirled on her sister, eyes flashing. "You told me that I should scold you if you tried to give me advice, so consider this a scold! I'm a grown woman, not a child." She looked away, out the window, and as her thoughts turned to Grey St. James, her voice softened. "I find it vastly romantic that he was pale and wan after being locked away from the world by that monster Napoleon. And to think that he's recovered so quickly and so splendidly..." Kristin sighed. "Oh, Talya, can you imagine making love with such a man? I vow, I could risk ruining my reputation for such an experience...."

* * *

Francesca lay next to David in her ornately curtained bed and thought back to the nights and days she had spent in Grey's arms. The pillow that cradled her head was redolent of her special scent and David's perspiration, and he snored softly while she stared up at the canopy. In a few moments she would have to awaken him and send him back to his rooms on Water Street, but for now she relished the opportunity to wander through her secret memories.

The dreams she'd been having about Grey both disturbed and excited her. Bored now with David and their scandalous affair, she found herself having second thoughts about the husband shed abandoned so carelessly. Grey might be a coldblooded libertine who could never worship her the way his brother did, but she had ever been prone to discontent, wanting what she did not possess. After Grey had returned to France, she had moped for weeks, desperately lonely, starved for attention, and certain that the war would leave her a widow. When David had appeared on the scene, his unrestrained infatuation had been just the entertainment shed hungered for. Grey had never betrayed the least weakness where she was concerned, and it had galled her. Running away with David after his desertion in battle had been both a grand, thrilling adventure and a secret source of pleasure as she'd imagined the pain Grey's pride would suffer when he came home to find her gone. Part of her had wished he, and all of London, could know the identity of her lover. Then he'd be sorry for not loving her.

Was he dead? she wondered now. Or would he be returning soon to London? Remembering the tempestuous nature of their lovemaking, if it could be called that, Francesca began to grow warm all over. He had been like a panther in bed, powerful, wild, and tireless. There had been no tenderness between them, only a struggle for fulfillment and control. She had been able to fool all the other men, fool them into believing she was a goddess. Before Grey,
she
had always been the one to withhold love, knowing that men thrived on challenge and would remain smitten only as long as she held her heart just out of reach. Grey had been the only one who refused to play her game, who seemed to know what she was really like, and this had maddened her. Now, however, she longed for a challenge of her own. What if she hadn't given up so quickly? Perhaps, after Grey came back from the war, he would have surrendered to her eventually.

Meanwhile, she'd still be a viscountess. The frosty Earl of Hartford could not live forever, and when he died Grey would inherit his title and all the Hartford estates and material possessions.

David made a gurgling sound in his sleep, and Francesca glanced over at him with disdain. She really couldn't bear him anymore. Although he had been an amusing enough companion over the past two years, he now bored her to tears. She found that she was tired of making all the decisions; she longed to be taken care of. Unfortunately David had neither prospects nor ambition.

Moving him out of her house and into rooms of his own had been the first step in easing him out of her life completely. When she made her debut in Philadelphia society, she wanted to be unencumbered. Sometimes she fantasized about abandoning David without an explanation, returning to England, and winning Grey back. If David turned up one day, she doubted he'd want to tell anyone where and with whom he'd been. However, it would be far wiser and safer, she realized, to marry a rich Philadelphian and settle down as a faintly decadent member of American society. Even with the war on, there were plenty of wealthy men in this area. But first she had to meet them.

Carefully she slipped out of bed and drew on a Chinese silk wrapper. The soft, cool fabric moved sensuously against her flesh as she carried a candlestick across the room to her dressing table. Glancing back at the bed to make certain that David still slept, she opened the middle drawer and withdrew a key that was hidden under the drawer's false bottom. A profusion of ribbons and lace threatened to spill out of the deeper drawer Francesca now opened on the opposite side of the dressing table. She sorted through the tangled ribbons and took out the carved box below, opening it with the key. Her eyes gleamed at the sight of the Hartford jewels, which Francesca considered her possessions. She'd had to sell a ring and a sapphire pin in New York, but the rest of the collection was intact. The jewels were her security and her calling card into Philadelphia society.

On top of a priceless ruby-and-diamond necklace lay a small parchment note, folded over, its waxen seal broken. Francesca opened it and read again:

Senator and Mrs. Lion Hampshire request the pleasure of your company at a garden party in honor of Miss Natalya Beauvisage, author of
My Lady's Heart.
We hope that you will join us at Hampshire House at two o'clock on the fifteenth of May, 1814.

Francesca had heard of the Hampshires but had no idea how they knew of her. She had seen the volume in question displayed in bookshops around Society Hill but was certain she had never met its author. Still, she had wasted little time questioning the invitation. Unbeknownst to David, she would go to this garden party, outshine the guest of honor with ease, and launch herself into Philadelphia's best circles. With a bit of luck and finesse, she might be married before the leaves turned in autumn....

* * *

"Of
course
I'm going to Talya's party!" Antonia Beauvisage exclaimed as she sidled toward the front door, hoping that her daughter-in-law and granddaughter would follow her lead. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Natalya glanced at her mother, wondering if she, too, felt that Grandmama was behaving strangely. She'd been flustered when they appeared at her door with two baskets of strawberries, chatted with them distractedly while stealing peeks at the tall case clock, and now she was edging them right out of the house.

"I hope our unexpected visit hasn't been an inconvenience, Grandmama," Natalya said a trifle stiffly. "I'm to blame, you know. It's just that ever since I've come home I've hoped to spend more time with you."

"Oh, my little love, I have wanted to spend more time with you, too," Antonia declared, embracing her granddaughter. "And a visit from you could never inconvenience me! I fear, though, that even little old women like me need a little privacy from time to time in order to sort out their lives. If I seem preoccupied, you must remember that it has no bearing at all on the love I feel for you."

Caro smiled at her mother-in-law and took Natalya's hand. "Have I told you how beautiful you are looking, Antonia? I have always loved that gown on you, and I vow that there are roses in your cheeks."

"Thank you, darling!" She kissed Caro's cheek and opened the front door. "Now then, you two should be on your way if you are going to deliver that basket of strawberries to Mr. St. James. It was kind of you to bring so many berries to me, but I could never eat them all. Much better to give the other basket to him."