Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (19 page)

The maid came bustling into the room. “Pardon, mademoiselle, but there is a Mrs. DeWinter calling. I thought you would want to see her.”

Gabrielle looked at her maid in astonishment. “Did you say Mrs. DeWinter?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

Gabrielle hurried to her sitting room, her thin pink robe flying out behind her. The only Mrs. DeWinter she knew of was Raile’s stepmother. But what would the woman want with her?

“I was told you wanted to see me, Mrs. DeWinter?”

“Yes, Miss Candeur,” Lavinia said. “I saw you perform once, and you were magnificent.”

“You are too kind,” Gabrielle said, noticing the woman was well dressed and had an air of superiority about her. She instantly took a dislike to her. “May I ask why you are here, Mrs. DeWinter? I have a performance tonight and must rest my throat if I am to be at my best.”

Lavinia resented the woman’s attitude. She was nothing but an actress, after all. “I came because I believe you and I have something in common.”

“I can’t think what that would be, madame.”

“How about Raile?”

“I believe you would be his stepmother. I have heard it said you and Raile are not. . . shall we say ... fond of one another.”

“Did Raile tell you that?”

“No. Raile never discusses his family with me.”

Lavinia’s eyes turned catlike. “I suppose you heard he was married.”

Gabrielle was well trained in masking her feelings, but this was too painful to hide. “I don’t believe it!”

Lavinia smiled as the color drained from Gabrielle’s face. In coming here today, she hoped to make Raile’s life miserable. If she couldn’t torture him through his new wife, she would torture him through his mistress.

“It’s true, I can assure you. He is indeed married.”

“Raile would have told me if he were going to marry. He owes me that much.”

“My stepson does not always do the kind thing. It would seem he told neither you, nor his family.”

Gabrielle pouted, her eyes flashing with jealousy. “Who is the woman he married?”

“I don’t know her. She’s from the country. I thought you might be able to tell me about her.”

“I wonder why you thought that, madame? You and I are not confidantes.”

Lavinia pulled on her white kid gloves and picked up her parasol. “As I said, we have something in common, Miss Candeur. Like you, I don’t want to see Raile married. You, of course, have more to lose than I.”

“What would you lose to his wife, madame? I have heard it said that he no longer speaks to you.”

Lavinia moved to the door. “Mistresses are often forgotten when a man marries.” She smiled sweetly. “You might want to remember that.” She flung open the door. “Perhaps you have already been forgotten.”

22

Anger and jealousy burned within Gabrielle’s heart as she descended the steps of her private coach to sweep into Madame Estelle’s establishment, with her footman trailing two steps behind her.

Since Madame Estelle and Gabrielle were both from France, they had formed an immediate friendship. At one time the dressmaker had designed gowns for Josephine, but it was not popular to disclose such a fact to the British. Madame Estelle now dressed many of the aristocracy, and she was always well-informed on the latest gossip.

Gabrielle knew this was the place she would learn the truth about Raile’s wife.

Madame Estelle was trim and elegant in her black gown as she rushed forward to embrace Gabrielle. “Oh, my poor Gabby,” madame cooed in heavily accented English. “It’s no wonder we have not seen you in so long. I was sure you were devastated by the duke’s marriage.”

Before she answered, Gabrielle glanced around and was satisfied that they were alone, except for the two seamstresses who were on the other side of the room concentrating on their stitchery.

She removed her red leather gloves and dropped down on the pink settee, while her footman placed a stool under her extended feet.

“So it’s true. Raile is married.” She ached with fury, and her eyes flashed with burning jealousy. “Tell me everything you know about the woman.”

Madame Estelle picked up a straw bonnet and busily poked blue flowers around the brim. “It is so strange,
cheri
. No one seems to know much about her. Nor have 1 met anyone who was invited to the wedding. When such an important man is married, you would expect no less than the Prince of Wales to attend the wedding, would you not?”

Seeing the stricken look on Gabrielle’s face, the little woman paused at her task. “Of course, his grace having a wife has little to do with love, Gabby. Does the duke not continue to pay your expenses?” Without allowing Gabrielle time to answer, the dressmaker continued. “After he has tired of this woman, he will return to you more and more—you will see.”

Gabrielle would not admit to her friend that Raile had not visited her in a month. She had always known he would one day take a wife, but he could have told her and not let her find out through others.

“He will never return to me, Estelle,” she said dramatically. “I have always known that there was a part of Raile that I could never reach. He held himself apart from me, never allowing me to touch his inner mind, to really know him.”

“He has always been generous with you,” Madame Estelle reminded her. “That buys a lot of comfort—if not for him, certainly for you.”

“Yes, but he never spoke of love. And he never discussed his personal life with me. I always wanted to be invited to Ravenworth Castle.”

“
Cheri
, you know that will never happen. A man does not take his mistress to his family home.”

Sudden anger boiled inside Gabrielle. “I will never allow him to push me aside for a mere wife. I’ll make myself so necessary to him he will want to keep returning. What could a wife offer him that I cannot?”

“That’s the way I like to hear you talk, Gabby,” the dressmaker said with passion. “Fight for him!”

“Estelle, tell me all you have heard about this woman. What are people saying about her?”

Madame studied the straw bonnet before picking up a bright blue ribbon and tying it around the brim. “As I told you, I know very little of her. Of course, there is much speculation from my patrons, but oddly, no one seems to know her personally.” She held out the bonnet and inspected her handiwork and nodded in satisfaction.

“They say,” Estelle continued, “that she’s straight from the country and has never had a London Season. I find it difficult to believe that a woman so unsophisticated could catch a man like your duke.”

“She must be very beautiful, Estelle,” Gabrielle speculated painfully.

“Not necessarily. You know how the nobles are— they marry among their own kind and think nothing about beauty or love.” Her eyes brightened. “When a nobleman does love, it is usually his mistress, and not his wife.”

Gabrielle wanted to believe Estelle, but still doubt nagged at her mind. “You cannot say for sure she is not beautiful because you have not seen Raile’s wife.”

Madame looked Gabrielle over carefully. Although she spent large amounts of money on clothing, her taste was rather garish and ornate. She was beautiful, but her lips were too severe, her gray eyes somehow without warmth. “No, I have not seen her yet—but she will be coming here to be measured for a new wardrobe. She and her aunt, Lady Mary Rindhold, have an appointment at noon tomorrow.”

Gabrielle quickly came to her feet. “1 will be here when they arrive so I can see her for myself. Raile will learn that he cannot treat Gabrielle Candeur without respect. I won’t be put out by some little country mouse.”

Madame Estelle had a dilemma. The duke of Ravenworth had been most generous in paying Gabrielle’s bills. And if she remained his mistress, Estelle would still benefit by that relationship. But she could never allow Gabrielle to meet the duke’s wife—no—it was unthinkable.

“
Cheri,
we are friends, and I would do anything for you—anything but allow you to be in my shop when the duchess of Ravenworth arrives. You must think of the scandal. Consider how angry his grace would be if he were to learn of such a meeting. I would be ruined.”

“Estelle, Raile’s wife will never suspect who I am. I just want to see her, and then I’ll leave quietly. No one, not even Raile, will ever know that I was here.”

Estelle was only too aware of Gabrielle’s quick temper and doubted she could be trusted not to make a scene. But they were friends, so she agreed reluctantly. “It is not right that the duke did not tell you of his marriage. So, if you promise you will not speak directly to the duchess, I will allow you to be here when she arrives.”

Gabrielle’s gray eyes took on a secretive and cunning light. “You have my oath that I shall not exchange a single word with Raile’s new duchess.”

Kassidy glanced out the window of her aunt’s town coach, noting the dark clouds that were gathering overhead. “It’s sure to rain before we return home, Aunt Mary.”

“Yes, I suspect it will, dear.” Lady Mary studied her niece with a practiced eye. In the month since her marriage, Kassidy had made a miraculous recovery. Her once pale cheeks were rosy with health. Her green eyes shone with vitality. Her hair now curled and shimmered with golden highlights. Of course, she was still too thin, but in time, Lady Mary was certain that Kassidy would gain back the weight she had lost because of her illness.

“You look happy, dearest.”

“I am, Aunt Mary. I’m with you and Uncle George. And I have Arrian. What more could I want?”

Lady Mary thought there should be much more to life for Kassidy than raising her sister’s child. She needed to be with her husband and have children of her own. She had watched Kassidy’s blossoming maturity, and in her, there was a beauty not only of face and body, but also a radiance that came from her soul. Sometimes, however, Lady Mary would catch a wistfulness in Kassidy’s eyes and knew she was thinking about Raile DeWinter.

“Are you not excited at the prospect of buying a new wardrobe today, Kassidy? Lord knows you need one.”

“Truth to tell, it feels most uncomfortable allowing Raile to pay for my clothing. I know I’m his wife, but I don’t feel like a wife. I haven’t heard from nor seen him since our wedding.”

“Kassidy,” Lady Mary said for at least the third time, “Raile is your husband, and it’s his responsibility to make certain you are properly clothed. He told me before he left that I was to see that you had everything you required. You haven’t been out because of your illness, but you are going to find that as the duchess of Ravenworth, your presence will be expected at many functions. Already I have turned down dozens of invitations on your behalf.”

Kassidy glanced down at her yellow gown that had been made over from one of her aunt’s old ones. “I suppose I do need new clothes,” she agreed.

“Yes, and just remember that as Raile’s wife, you will want to be appropriately dressed so you can be a credit to your husband and to the title.”

“I suppose there is truth in what you say. But it’s difficult all the same.”

Lady Mary smiled and patted Kassidy’s hand. “We have arrived, dear. You will like the lovely gowns Madame Estelle creates. Even though it isn’t popular to patronize a Frenchwoman, she is very much in vogue and has a devoted clientele.”

Kassidy could only think of the cost. “She must be expensive.”

“Indeed, yes. If she wasn’t, I wouldn’t bring you here.”

Kassidy frowned. She had never had money to spend on clothing. She could not even imagine how much a gown would cost, and her aunt said she needed dozens.

The footman opened the door, and Lady Mary motioned for Kassidy to follow her. “This will be an adventure, dear. Just you wait and see.”

From her vantage point on the pink settee, Gabrielle Candeur watched the two women approach the shop. She recognized Lady Mary Rindhold, a distinguished hostess. She could not see the other woman who walked on the opposite side of Lady Mary.

The bell tinkled merrily above the door and Gabrielle craned her neck so she could have a better view of Raile’s wife. She stiffened in disbelief when she saw the beautiful creature who stood there. She was little more than a young girl.

Gabrielle clamped her teeth tightly together in anger. She had never been partial to blond hair on females, but on this girl, it was like a crown of shimmering gold. She envied the clear emerald-green eyes that were framed with sooty lashes. Every feature was delicate and beautiful. Her slender form was outlined by the thinness of the gown she wore. Raile had replaced her with a girl who was pure and innocent!

Malice ignited in Gabrielle’s heart. The young duchess had everything she wanted: youth, beauty, and Raile DeWinter. Her anger burst forth into rage, and she wanted to hurt the perfect beauty who had taken Raile from her.

Estelle bustled forward to greet the new arrivals, pausing just long enough beside Gabrielle to whisper, “You must leave at once.” She moved to her guests. “Lady Mary, what a pleasure it is to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you, madame,” Lady Mary answered. “May I present you to my niece, her grace, the duchess of Ravenworth?”

Estelle looked at the young girl, knowing the anguish Gabrielle must be feeling because the duke’s wife was breathtakingly beautiful. “It will be my pleasure to dress someone as lovely as your grace,” she said, dipping into a curtsy.

Gabrielle rushed forward, pulling on her gloves, her eyes boring into the green eyes of the flawless creature who was the object of her jealousy.

“Madame Estelle,” Gabrielle said in a honeyed voice, “be so kind as to have my purchase delivered to my address, and as usual, have the bill sent to the duke of Ravenworth. You know how generous he has always been.” She extended her wrist, displaying a diamond bracelet, her spiteful eyes turned on Kassidy. “The latest trinket Raile gave me. Is it not extraordinary?”

Kassidy recognized the woman from the night she had gone to Raile to beseech him to help her find Arrian. She turned hurt eyes to her aunt.

Lady Mary pulled Kassidy to her as if to shield her from the actress who swept past them and out the door.

“What is the meaning of this, Madame Estelle?” Lady Mary demanded. “Who was that rude woman— and how dare she flaunt herself in front of my niece?”

Madame Estelle was wringing her hands. “I am very distressed this has happened in my establishment, Lady Mary. I had no notion Gabrielle would commit such a breech of etiquette. How can I make it up to you?”

Kassidy raised her hand to her burning cheek as understanding penetrated her consciousness. “Then that was .. . she is still Raile’s ...”

Lady Mary’s face became a mask of fury. “If you and that woman meant this as a jest, be assured you won’t be laughing for long. I hold you responsible for this atrocity, Madame Estelle.”

“But, Lady Mary, your grace, Gabrielle only wanted to see—she gave me her word she would not—“

Furiously, Lady Mary took Kassidy’s arm and steered her out of the shop. Kassidy climbed into the coach and waited for her aunt to join her, still bewildered by the scene she had just witnessed.

Lady Mary waved for the coachman to move along. “This is unforgivable,” she declared. “It will not be tolerated. I think Madame Estelle’s popularity with my friends will not last long.”

Kassidy felt wounded in the deepest recesses of her heart. The night she had seen that woman at Raile’s house, he had as much as admitted she was his mistress, but she had assumed he would end their liaison after they were married. “I want to go home now, Aunt Mary.”

“Indeed, you will not go home,” Lady Mary said stubbornly. “That is the worst reaction you could have. I will take you to another dressmaker, who will serve you just as well. You, my dearest niece, are no man’s fool.”

“That woman is Raile’s . . . mistress,” Kassidy said miserably.

“Don’t think about her. I have decided that you are going to be gowned and coiffured to show off your beauty to the best advantage. I intend to introduce you to society with great pomp. You have the grace and beauty to break hearts. Every man who meets you will lay his heart at your feet.” Lady Mary frowned. “I will also see that your husband hears of your many conquests.”