Regency Rumours/A Scandalous Mistress/Dishonour And Desire (22 page)

S
o few words had been spoken during those intense hours of loving that when Lord Elyot’s absence was discovered next morning, with only Mr Killigrew to see him leave, and no message left to explain it, Amelie was understandably puzzled, then vexed, then deeply fearful. She could have asked Mr Killigrew about the manner of his leaving, but that would have looked odd. If there
had
been a message, she would have received it by now.

A casual enquiry at the stables revealed that her guest had borrowed her grey hunter and would return it that same morning, but the offhand manner in which the groom from Sheen Court, later on, let slip the information that his master had set out for London ‘‘ell for leather’ caused Amelie the greatest concern. A sudden nausea made her sit down on the mounting-block until it had passed, then with shaking legs she returned to the house to rejoin Caterina, whose puffy eyelids and red nose were not much better than they had been at breakfast.

‘London,’ said Amelie. ‘He’s gone to London.’

‘Without telling you?’ said Caterina, accusingly.

Amelie shrugged, studying the silver top on the inkpot. ‘I suppose he must have mentioned it,’ she said, searching for a convincing line to take, ‘but I really can’t remember. He has duties to perform for his father, you know, like yesterday. London’s not as far as all that. He could be back in no time at all.’

‘Did Lord Rayne go with him?’ Caterina asked in a small voice. She was writing a letter to her father, and the quill she held was about to break under the extreme misuse she was subjecting it to.

‘Er … I don’t know, my dear.’ Blankly, she looked into Caterina’s deeply unhappy topaz eyes, saying more eloquently than words that she knew absolutely nothing about what either of them were doing, that she and Caterina were not likely to find out for certain, that communications appeared to have broken down even after a night spent in the deepest and most personal intercourse of all.

‘What about Tam? No word of him either?’

‘Nothing was said. I didn’t ask.’

‘I would like to know,’ whispered Caterina.

‘Yes, dear. So would I. If I’d realised …’ The sentence was left open. If she had realised how abrupt the end would be, or that the amazing night they had spent together was to be a kind of farewell, she would have been more prepared for his sudden departure. Even now she could scarcely believe that he had gone without waking her, no doubt to avoid any more angry scenes. Yes, that had been a mistake. A spontaneous, but costly, mistake. Perhaps the other women had brought things to an end in the same way. Heaven knows what she had screamed at him.

More disturbing news arrived that morning in a letter from Signor Rauzzini addressed to Lady Chester. The maestro was
full of regrets that he had been summoned urgently to Bath, post-haste, and that his visit planned for the day after tomorrow would unfortunately have to be postponed until his return. He did not know when that would be. He had been so looking forward to hearing Miss Chester sing for him, but meanwhile she must take care not to overtax her voice, to take plenty of fresh air, exercise and sleep. ‘Your very obedient servant, Venanzio Rauzzini,’ said Amelie, passing the letter to Caterina. ‘Oh, my dear, this is a
bitter
disappointment. After all your preparations.’

Caterina’s letter to her father suffered a temporary hiatus until her tears had dried, after which she tried again, telling her father of the great set-back to her singing career with an exaggeration typical of young people in love. She told him that things did not always flow smoothly since Aunt Amelie’s engagement, and although the dinner at Sheen Court had been a great success, the outing to Hampton Court had not, the dance last night had been a great crush and they had come home early. Significantly, Lord Rayne was not mentioned.

It was to be a day of letters, for among the day’s post was one from Caterina’s father and sister, always first to be read and devoured for gossip, congratulations for Amelie and a hint of envy from sister Sara. But hidden in the pile lay one which, in her thirst for news from Buxton, Amelie had not noticed. Her heartbeat raced, and she stifled a gasp of annoyance as she recognised Ruben Hurst’s handwriting. From London, the postmark said. So, he was still there, and still not out of her life, and the one who had assured her of his protection was not here, after all that, to deal with the problem, nor would he even know that Hurst was still pestering her. She would have to deal with it in her own way, as she had done before.

***

An hour later, she took the letter to her workroom where, over by the window, she broke the wafer with shaking hands and stared at the page of neat writing, hating it already. Skipping over the salutation, she read:

At last I am able to give you an address where you may contact me and, if our last sweet meeting had not been so unkindly interrupted, I would have found a place sooner, with your generous assistance. I could see your distress at the dilemma, but I have never given up hope that we shall soon come together for all time, and I pray that meanwhile you will not be so ill-used by that man as you were with the other. You will know who I mean. I need say no more on that painful subject.

As for myself, I am making contacts here of which I am convinced you will approve. Last night, for instance, I met a Manchester couple who, when I mentioned the Carrs of that city, told me that they had known Mr and Mrs Robert Carr very well in the old days, which I found strange—that memories can stay so fresh for so long. What they had to say about your parents made me feel ever closer to you. However, I did lose a substantial pocket to them and would be obliged if you could forward a contribution to my growing expenses. I already owe 200 guineas and am like to need more soon. Keep up your spirits, my dear love, and trust that I am working towards our future together. Your most obedient servant …

For a long time, Amelie stood with the letter in her hand, listening to the thud of her heart, her mind every bit as convoluted as the maze at Hampton Court, but without any simple key to the solution. Two things were clear from Hurst’s letter: one was that his menacing overtones of devotion were meant to distress her while giving Lord Elyot a clear message
that, in spite of her denials, there
was
something between them. This she was able to disregard, since Lord Elyot was not there to see the letter. Indeed, it was a huge relief that he never would.

The second point was even more serious: he had met someone who had known her parents, presumably before she was born. What exactly had he discovered? And what did he propose to do with the information if he did not receive her ‘contribution to his expenses’? One thing was certain; he must be paid before he made another effort to discredit her in Lord Elyot’s eyes and before she could do it herself at her own convenience.

Staring out into the garden, the minutes came and went before she laid the letter to one side. Should she destroy it immediately? No, it had the address of his lodging on it, somewhere. Was she reading too much into it all? No, she did not think so. Should she ask Lord Rayne’s advice? No, she had handled Ruben Hurst on her own before, and Lord Rayne knew nothing of the man, anyway. And why had Lord Elyot gone off to London without explanation? ‘Hah!’ she whispered. ‘I think I can guess the answer to that.’

One hand pressed tenderly upon a certain place just below the gathers of her bodice where, as if by magic, a memory rose and wound itself around her, melting her limbs, closing her eyes, parting her lips in a deep moaning sigh. That had been a night of nights. Even he must have thought so, with his years of experience and ardent mistresses.

With a last casual glance at the letter, she took it up to put it in a safe place until later, but a tap at her door took her by surprise and, just as Henry opened it to announce her visitor, she turned quickly and slid the letter beneath a pile of paint
sketches on the corner of her work table, her mind already on words of greeting to the elegant Lord Rayne.

The distant sound of Caterina’s sweet singing reached them from the morning room across the white landing, then Signor Cantoni’s instruction, followed by another line of melody. Lord Rayne paused as if to catch every note before the door closed. ‘My lady,’ he said, bowing. ‘I hoped I might find you at home.’

Amelie smiled. ‘Yes, my lord. You were away last night before we had chance to thank you for our evening. Have you come to see my niece?’

He glanced towards the door. ‘I came to see you, to explain.’

She waved a hand, inviting him to sit, then took a seat near the window, arranging her skirt of sprigged muslin smoothly over her knees. ‘Explain what, my lord? You mean—about Mr Elwick?’

If he was taken aback, he was careful not to show it. ‘About my brother. His sudden departure for London,’ he said, sitting down.

‘Of course. Yes, he does move with astonishing precipitation at times, doesn’t he? Did he have time for breakfast?’

He caught the caustic overtones, but continued with his errand while his eyes lazily followed the arc of her slender throat and the dark curling wisps of hair that clung to it. ‘No, he was away after only a change of clothes. Well—’he smiled ‘—he could hardly travel to London in evening dress, could he? Though by all accounts he turned a few heads in his way through Richmond on your grey. Nick didn’t think you’d mind him borrowing it.’

‘I don’t mind at all, but why the sudden departure? Has there been some kind of crisis? Your parents?’

‘No, not that. But there
is
an urgent matter that’s cropped up quite suddenly. He asks me to say that he hopes you will not be too inconvenienced by it, though of course I shall be at your disposal to escort you where you will. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone. Meanwhile, if there’s any way in which I can be of service to you and Miss Chester, I shall be more than happy to oblige.’

Far from being mollified by this insipid and vague excuse, Amelie was not inclined to salve his conscience by accepting Lord Rayne’s offer, though she had no doubt it was kindly made.
Doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone, indeed. Urgent matter he has to attend to. Poppycock!

‘You are too kind,’ she said with a marked chill that Lord Rayne had heard before. ‘You have both done
far
more for two complete strangers than either of us had ever expected or deserved, and we are
extremely
grateful to you. Caterina has already begun to make a good impression, for which she has you and Lord Elyot to thank, and we must therefore not trespass on your time any longer. You have been the kindest and most
tolerant
of escorts. It must have put your own plans sadly out, at times.’

There was some smoothing of feathers to be done here, for the frosty inflections of her voice had all been noted. Leaning towards her, he saw the pain amongst the icicles in her eyes and thought that, although his brother’s handling of women was usually faultless, this time he might have made an error of timing for such a sensitive creature as this. And he, Seton, would not like to predict the days ahead. ‘It was not done out of
kindness
, my lady,’ he said, softly. ‘My brother and I have never spent a more enjoyable month in anyone’s company, believe me. But Nick cannot always explain what his business
involves since he is bound by royal command not to say more than is absolutely necessary. Even I don’t know what my father wants of him. All I can say is that both my parents will return with him and that he is looking forward to introducing you to them.’

Naturally, he had expected this pronouncement to interest her, so the frown that passed like a shadow across her forehead caused him to ask, ‘The prospect does not please you, m’lady?’

‘Oh, yes … er, yes, indeed. That will be … er … something to which we shall look forward with, er … I’ve heard so much about them.’

‘As they will be hearing about you at this very moment, I dare say. And Miss Chester, too. I believe she’s having her singing lesson.’

‘Yes. Did you hope to take her driving?’

‘Not exactly. I came to deliver my brother’s message and to offer my services.’ Again, he admired the graceful curve of her neck as her head bent forward to watch her fidgeting fingers. ‘An errand, perhaps?’ he teased. Then, looking across her work table at his side, he espied a pile of paintings resting on a large piece of brown paper. ‘Who frames your paintings?’ he said. ‘Someone in Richmond? Mr Pallisy is very good, I hear. A Huguenot family. Been here forever.’

‘Yes, he’s done very well for me. Those are waiting to go to him.’ She indicated the paintings with a nod of her head, wishing above all things that it was Lord Elyot who sat there instead of his charming brother and that she had not been told of their parents’ imminent return to Richmond.

‘Then, if you will allow it, I shall take them to him on my way home. I shall be passing his shop. He knows what you require, does he?’

‘Oh, yes, he knows what to do with them, thank you.’

He folded the brown paper neatly around them and tucked the package beneath his arm. ‘I am glad to be of some use, my lady. I came in the phaeton, so they’ll be quite safe.’

‘Thank you again. It was kind of you to come. Give us a few days’ grace, if you will. Caterina is still …’

‘A little upset? Yes, that’s quite understandable.’ He moved towards the door, clearly debating whether to say more on the topic. ‘I think you should know,’ he said, ‘that Mr Elwick has sent young Tam away for a while. Oh, don’t be alarmed. It’s not banishment. Hannah has gone with him for a few weeks until things settle down. It’s for the best, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

‘A few weeks? And then what?’

‘Well, then his father may have long-term plans for him. We shall have to wait and see.’ He smiled, looking very unlike the angry man who had knocked his brother-in-law down two days ago.

‘Yes,’ said Amelie, thinking not so much of Tam and Hannah speeding away in a coach to some unknown destination, but of Lord Rayne’s smile, which was so like his brother’s that her breath was caught on a sob. Now she did not know how long it would be before she saw it again or to whom it would have been given by then. ‘As you say, we shall have to wait and see. Good day to you, my lord. Mr Killigrew will show you out.’ She dipped a curtsy and watched the way he seemed to flow like liquid down the stairs, disappearing round the corner.