No Marriage of Convenience (18 page)

“Because I didn’t want to go,” Riley told her.

Bea’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? You like him, don’t you? Is that it—you’re playing hard to get like you were telling us yesterday? Being unattainable and distant, so he tries harder to win your affections?”

Riley didn’t know what stunned her more, Bea’s vehemence, or the fact that obviously through all her sullen faces and bored airs, she’d actually been listening to Riley’s lessons. “As unlikely as you may find it, Lord Delander won’t marry me, as I have no intention of accepting his proposal.”

At this, Bea cocked her head. “You don’t?”

“No,” Riley said. “I don’t love him.”

The girl appeared to be considering the idea, though her expression still said she couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone not being in love with the Viscount. Slowly she asked, “If you don’t love him, do you think he could love someone else?”

Riley smiled, trying to sound as if she believed her words. “Yes, I think Lord Delander’s heart could be swayed in the right direction—with a little work.”

With a lot of work and a miracle
, she thought.

Beatrice obviously had come to the same conclusion. “You can say that because you’re an actress. You can be anyone you want to be, play any role. I’m just me and I’ll never be anyone else.”

You can be anyone you want to be, play any role…

Riley sat back in her seat, Bea’s words echoing through
her thoughts. She knew she was gaping at the girl and looked probably as foolish as she felt.

Play any role…

She’d been trying to teach the girls to be something she knew nothing about, when in actuality she should be teaching what she did know more than plenty about—acting.

Riley bounded to her feet. “Beatrice, you are a genius.” She towed her up from the sofa and strode into the middle of the room.

“She might be a genius, but she can’t go out in these clothes,” Louisa complained, holding out her own black skirt. “We look like ravens!”

“Leave the clothes to me,” Riley said, something Mason had said last night, giving root to another idea.

Louisa muttered something back, what Riley didn’t hear, but obviously Beatrice had, for she slugged her sister in the arm.

“Ouch,” Louisa complained, rubbing her arm. “What was that for?”

“Oh, hold your tongue,” Beatrice told her.

Without, Riley noted, the addition of any colorful phrases.

“I think it is time we tried a different direction with our lessons.” With the rapt attention of all eyes on her, Riley announced, “I think it is time I shared with you my Eastern secrets.”

Riley, Cousin Felicity, and the St. Clair sisters spent the rest of the afternoon plotting their new roles—ones that would take the
ton
by storm.

As it neared half past four, Cousin Felicity went downstairs to see to their tea, while Riley and the girls finished up their “lessons.”

“Don’t worry about your uncle or your costumes,” Riley told them. “Leave that all up to me.”

As the clock struck the appointed hour, they went downstairs. At the bottom of the steps, Beatrice drew to a stop. Riley knew why. A conversation from the parlor rose through the usually quiet house.

“My dearest Felicity,” an all too familiar voice said, charm rolling off every word. “I spent the day in anxious anticipation of returning to the shadow of your lovely countenance. It is a blessing to find you in such fine spirits.”

Aggie!
She should have known the old scalawag wouldn’t stay away. Not when he suspected there was ready money at hand.

“Mr. Pettibone is back,” Beatrice said, hurrying toward the room.

“I wonder if he won any more money at piquet,” Maggie said. “I would love lemon tarts for tea.”

He had better not have spent the afternoon playing cards
, Riley thought.

“Agamemnon,” Cousin Felicity said through a tittering veil of giggles. “You make me feel like a schoolgirl again.”

“A time not that long ago, one would think to gaze upon your flawless face,” he replied.

Riley set her jaw. She wondered what Cousin Felicity would think of her flattering suitor when she heard him uttering the exact same line in the play they were currently practicing.

Resolved to put an end to this fruitless flirtation once and for all, she followed the girls into the parlor, where Aggie was ensconced on the settee like a prince, with Cousin Felicity practically in his lap. He had her hand to
his lips and was cooing another line from
The Envious Moon
about her eyes and the stars.

Riley made a note to herself to cut that scene from Act Three immediately. She’d never be able to listen to it again without having this nightmare image of Aggie and Cousin Felicity in her mind.

“Aggie!” Riley said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for tea, dear girl,” he told her. “Don’t you remember? Your kind hostess invited me.”

She took a deep breath. “And I recall uninviting you.”

Aggie turned to Cousin Felicity. “You must forgive my dear ward. As a foundling, she missed the gentle ministrations of a mother, and I have been all she’s had to guide her in the ways of society.”

Maggie’s eyes grew wide. “Riley, you were a foundling?”

Riley flinched.

“Who was a foundling?” Mason asked from behind her.

Riley didn’t dare turn around. His words caressed her skin as if he were touching her again. How tragic had she become when even the sound of his voice made her blush?

“Riley was,” Louisa told him. The girl caught her hand and tugged her down onto the sofa next to her. “Where did they find you? Do you have any idea who your parents are? You could be royalty and not even know it.” The wide-eyed girl sat back, staring at Riley with new respect.

“Louisa,” Mason said. “That is quite enough. As far as anyone is concerned, Riley is a distant relation who lost her parents at a young age.”

“Actually, Louisa isn’t too far from the truth,” Aggie told them, oblivious to her embarrassment. “For Riley is the daughter of—”

“Aggie!” Riley jumped to her feet. “That is quite
enough.” Even as she made this outburst, Riley realized she’d only made the situation worse.

Now every face in the room held a curious gaze focused directly at her. They all wanted Aggie’s revelation finished.

And it was the last thing she wanted.

Lord Ashlin turned and stared at her. But if she expected disappointment or condemnation, it didn’t show on his face. Instead, he smiled in encouragement. “If only we could all escape the sins of the father.”

“Exactly!” Aggie said. “I’ve told her time and again, she is not to blame for her mother selling her.”

“She sold you?” Maggie’s lip trembled. “Oh, Riley, how sad.”

Cousin Felicity obviously agreed for she was already swiping at tears. “The story sounds like one of your plays,” she said between sniffs. “The lost heiress found by a prince and brought home in triumph.”

Aggie snapped his fingers. “I have told her the same thing time and again,” he said. “She tries to deny it, but every play she writes tells her tragic story.”

“You write your plays?” This question came from Beatrice.

“Yes,” Riley told her, happy for the change of subject. “I write a new one for the spring and fall seasons.”

“Oh, Riley,” Louisa said. “What if your mother saw your play and realized the error of her ways? I can see it now—she’d come backstage, her eyes filled with tears, pleading with you to forgive her for making such a terrible mistake.”

As much as she denied it to Aggie and anyone else who pointed out the common theme to her plays, she had secretly hoped that one day the woman who’d given her life would see the error of her ways and return to apologize
and make amends for all the pain and lost years.

It was the last fantasy of her childhood—a lonely time spent in poverty and doubt…and dreams.

Mason pulled at his chin. “Do you know who your parents are?”

Riley shook her head. “All I know is that my mother was an English lady, but her family name, I never knew. To me, she was just ‘mama.’”

The memories of that fleeting time came rushing forward.

Mama practicing her lines for the theatre. Playing with the laces and rich fabrics of her costumes. Flowers from admirers filling their small apartment with their rich scents
.

They were happy times, blissful images, yet they were ever tarnished by her final memory of her mother.

Of the beautiful lady bidding her good-bye one frosty fall morning, before she boarded a carriage and left Riley behind…forever.

“You don’t know anything else?” he asked. “Nothing about where she came from or a name that could give a clue as to her identity.”

Riley looked away. “No. I was only five when she left.”

Mason got up. “That’s something. Your age. What year were you born?”

“What has that got to do with anything?” Riley asked.

“Well, to find her. To find your family. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“No!” she lied. “Why would I care about them? They obviously didn’t want me.”

“Tell him,” Aggie urged her. “You’ve spent the last seven years doing everything but placing an advertisement in the
Times
trying to find her. Let him help you.”

“No,” she repeated. What did it matter if they found out she was the illegitimate daughter of the King himself—the fact remained she’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket and would never be…good enough to be considered a suitable bride.

“But what if—” Beatrice started to say.

“Leave off,” Mason told her. “If Riley doesn’t want to find her family, that is her choice, and we must respect her privacy.”

“But—” Louisa added, until her uncle turned a swift glance in her direction. Louisa closed her open mouth and sighed.

The room filled with an uneasy silence.

There, her sad story had put everyone in a downcast mood, Riley thought. And it had all started with Aggie and his indiscriminate tongue.

The unrepentant devil didn’t seem to notice. “Didn’t you say something about having tea?” he asked Cousin Felicity.

“Oh, how terrible of me to forget,” she said. She started to rise to go retrieve the tray Belton had left on the small sideboard, but Aggie raised his hand to stop her.

“My fair Felicity, I couldn’t have you lower yourself to such a task. Please allow me.”

Riley took a page from Beatrice and snorted. This was a first. She’d never seen Aggie lift a finger to serve anything, unless it was to lift someone’s wallet or a pilfered playing card.

Her partner sighed dramatically. “You must excuse my ward. She has always been a challenge.”

“I am not your ward,” Riley told him, as he crossed the room to fetch the tea service.

He shook his head. “Such are the trials of the generous of spirit.”

Out in the hall the bell at the door jangled, and Riley glanced over at Mason, who had the same look of alarm. “Lord Delander?” she whispered.

Mason shook his head. “No. There is a horse auction this afternoon, and he was determined to obtain a pair of bays that he’s had his eye on. I can’t imagine who it is.”

As Riley considered the worst option—Lady Delander making another surprise call—Bea solved the mystery quite handily.

“Cousin Felicity,” the girl whispered. “Are you forgetting what day it is?”

“What do I care what day it is,” she said, waving her handkerchief at Bea, her adoring gaze fixed on Aggie.

“But Cousin, it is Thursday,” Maggie said, jerking her thumb at the clock. “And it is half past four.”

Riley watched Mason’s eyes grow wide, and then a smug smile spread across his face. “Oh, this ought to be interesting,” he muttered.

Riley leaned toward him. “What is going to be interesting?”

“It’s Thursday,” he said, as if Riley should know the significance of the day.

“And?” Riley asked.

Mason leaned over and whispered, “On Thursdays, Lord Chilton always comes for tea.”

Riley smiled. Perhaps there was justice in the world.

The arrival of Lord Chilton may provide Aggie the chance to realize his fondest wish. Before the day was out, her partner may just find himself in the duel he’d always longed for.

And Riley felt like offering her services as second to see the deed done correctly.

Second to Lord Chilton, that is.

If Mason thought that his usual afternoon tea would return some semblance of order to his house, he should have known by now that time spent in Riley’s company was anything but conducive to routine.

Even in this common enough setting, she stirred his heart, brightening the salon with her smile and shimmering green eyes.

And it wasn’t just her looks which gave him pause anymore—it was the lady herself. While Mason couldn’t shake his dismay at the notion of a five-year-old Riley being sold like a piece of chattel, he found himself even more amazed and filled with awestruck admiration for the woman who’d risen above her circumstances with raw determination to become so filled with grace and poise.

Those were lessons, Mason realized, they could all gain from her.

How could he have ever considered her an unfit companion to his nieces?

Even her rapscallion partner, Mr. Pettibone, added a measure of levity that he realized now had been missing from their lives for far too long. And now it would be interesting to see if Lord Chilton found Aggie’s presence in their midst as amusing.

“You’ve started without me, Lady Felicity,” Lord Chilton said, an indignant flush rising on his cheeks. The man blustered into the room and took his place on the sofa next to Cousin Felicity, as he had done every Thursday for more years than Mason could recall.

Despite the baron’s reluctance toward marriage, Mason still found Lord Chilton to be a decent and generally kind fellow. And most importantly, Mason knew Cousin Felicity was deeply fond of him.

But today the normally placid man looked about ready to burst with agitation.

“Whatever is wrong, my lord?” Cousin Felicity asked. Even after all these years, the pair maintained a formality that bordered on quaint.