The House in Grosvenor Square (13 page)

Lord Antoine wanted a diversion. He was considering a stop at one of his favourite lower-class haunts, a tavern called The Black Bear, when suddenly he noticed a familiar-looking young man on the street he'd been absentmindedly watching. It was Chesley! Harold Chesley.

He kicked the wall of the coach, and it began to slow.

“What the devil are you doing?” Wingate asked.

Holliwell looked at his brother. “I see a friend.”

“You're not picking him up I hope!”

“No. I'm leaving.” He prepared himself to exit the carriage as soon it had stopped completely.

His brother, the jaded aristocrat, put his head back and yawned. “Do as you like. Just find me later and don't get too deep in your cups to be of any use to me. The Forsythe chit ain't keepin' to her house, so we should have another opportunity soon enough.”

“Right.” Antoine jumped out of the carriage and hurried back the way he'd seen Chesley going. “Ho, Chesley!”

The man stopped, turned, and recognized Holliwell. He smiled and waved.

When Mr. Mornay was satisfied there was nothing further to pursue regarding the mysterious black coach Joe had seen, he returned to the study. He had gone outside and looked warily all around the square—as much as he could see of it—but saw nothing fitting the description of a shabby black equipage with sorry-looking horses.

Ariana shut the book. “I don't believe Mr. Luther is quite fit for ladies.” She had read some rather shocking quotes from the man.

Mr. Mornay smiled. “Not that book, but other works of his would meet with your approval, I am sure.”

“He was rather—” she hated to say it, “
crude
, was he not?”

“Perhaps
earthy
would be the kinder word.” He was grinning as he gently eased the book from her hands and put it back on his desk. He turned again and surveyed her thoughtfully.

“Did you see the carriage?” she asked.

“No. They'd gone.” His look changed. He went behind the desk, searched for something, and finally pulled out the ink-stained garment.

Her face changed to puzzlement.

He came back around the desk and held the garment out for her to see.

“What on earth happened?” she asked, looking up at him blankly. “Is this yours?”

“It is.”

“I'm sorry for you. How did it happen?” she asked, noticing how intently he was looking at her.

He set the shirt on his desk and then held out his hands to her. He pulled

Ariana up from her seat and said, “'Tis of no consequence. Come here.”

“Of no consequence? After you took the trouble to show it to me?” But
he was pulling her very close. “My dear sir, do keep in mind your good intentions to maintain a proper distance between us.”

But even as she spoke, he began to kiss her face and nose and cheeks, and she couldn't help giggling. Then he kissed her mouth, his lips lingering on hers.

An onlooker would have seen an elegant pair of tall, well-groomed, and expensively clad people. His dark hair made a sharp contrast to her golden ringlets, which were held up with pins and adorned with a wide taffeta ribbon and one small ostrich plume.

Afterward and still holding her, he asked, “What were you looking for in my wardrobe yesterday?”

She pushed apart from him and tried to think. Her eyes fell upon the ruined shirt. “You think I did that! That I would be so careless as to—”

“No, I don't think you did that. But you must see the uncanny coincidence of your having been seen in the vicinity of my clothing and the fact that this shirt was later found in this condition.”

She stared at him, understood the implication, and had no answer.

“So tell me…what brought you there?”

Ariana's eyes dropped. “I was merely…curious.”

“Curious? About a man's clothing? About what, in particular, may I ask?”

Ariana blushed and sighed. “I was simply wanting to—touch something of yours.” She suddenly remembered Mrs. Bentley's distrust of Mrs. Hamilton. “Who found your shirt, may I ask?”

“Fotch did, of course. He tends to my wardrobe exclusively.”

She gave him a very concerned look, blushed afresh, and looked away and then back again. If she hadn't looked quite so adorably confused, he might have taken her reaction as an admission of guilt, but he knew her too well.

“Can there be an explanation, such as an accident, do you think?” Her perplexity of voice was second only to the agitation in her large eyes. Sparks of colour surfaced in them as happened when her feelings were provoked.

He turned his head, studying her sideways, appraisingly. “Could
you
have caused an accident? Don't be alarmed, I shan't be cross with you.”

“I am not in the habit of carrying ink with me! And you need not speak to me as though I am a child. I remind you that I am not too young to be your wife!” She pressed her lips together in indignation. “You
do
think I did that!”

“No, I don't.”

She searched his face.

He smiled a little. “Well, perhaps for a second or two, I might have. But I knew it was unlikely.”

“Indeed!”

“But tell me what you were up to—”

“What was I doing? Oh, very well. I was just…enjoying…being near your things.” She was still blushing, and she looked away from him, remembering. “I could smell your scent…”

His eyebrows rose. Then they stepped into another tight embrace, and he kissed her once more.

“You are my angel!”

“I look forward to being yours,” she said and then blushed freshly, pulling away from him in haste. She wore a look of mortification, realizing how he may have interpreted that statement. He knew she had not meant it
that
way, but couldn't help, nevertheless, engaging her in another soulful kiss. Ariana pushed herself from him a second time. “We
must
go to a public room!”

He reluctantly released her. At that moment she spotted the correspondence she had left him, sitting in a neat pile on one corner of his desk. He saw the direction of her gaze.

“Yes, we will discuss those but not now.”

She tried to read his features. “Please, let us talk of them today. I am so eager to—”

“You are eager to support every charity in England, I think.”

She did not contradict his exaggeration. Adding to his conviction, she said, “And missionaries, you must know.”

“I don't doubt it!”

She completely missed the sardonic edge to his voice. “Have you looked them over?” she asked again.

“I have, and if you must know, I have great reservations about supporting workhouses of any sort. They are heartless places, keeping people barely alive, while they work them to the bone and at useless endeavours like the tread mill. They ought to be abolished!”

She opened her mouth a little in surprise, paused after he spoke, but finally replied, “Which is all the more reason to help them. With proper support they would perhaps be more generous to their inmates. Kinder in their treatment.”

“Unless there is a law in place to ensure it, Ariana, it would be foolish to expect it.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.”

They looked at each other deeply. She saw his earnestness and said, “Very well, but can we visit these places so that I may see for myself what their manner of operation is?”

“When there is time, after our marriage, yes. There is a workhouse not half a mile from here.”

She gave him a little smile. “Very well. But what of the orphans' school? May we support that good cause?”

“I already sent something on your account.” “You are so good to me, sir!”

He smiled and took her back in his arms. He went to kiss her, but she turned her face away.

“I daresay the servants are already scandalized at our being alone in this room,” she uttered into his shoulder.

“Not at all,” he said, though inwardly he knew his behaviour was less than sterling. This was exactly why he needed to renew his efforts at keeping apart from Ariana until the wedding. But then he remembered there was still another matter he hadn't yet broached. “Ariana—”

“Yes?”

“Before we go, I need to mention that, since you've been coming by the house, a number of items have gone missing. And now my shirt has been ruined, with an appearance of it being done intentionally.”

Ariana's face registered stark amazement. “Do your servants actually count your handkerchiefs?”

He laughed out loud. “Apparently. I see you
are
responsible for those, at least.”

She reached for her reticule, still on the chair behind her, and dug in it for a few seconds. First she pulled out an orange, which seemed to amaze him. He said nothing, just watched while she placed it on his desk. Then she was brandishing the two handkerchiefs, which she handed him. And searching further, Ariana brought forth the cuff link.

“Here then! You may have them back. I wanted something of yours to be with me at all times, though I realize how utterly foolish that sounds—” She began to pace a little ways from him, peeved to have been found out in such a manner, and didn't notice that Mr. Mornay was at first mystified and then gratified.

He moved to her quickly, taking her by the arm, so that she faced him.
His eyes were full. But he also had that near smile as when he found her amusing.

“What?” Her hands were on her hips.

“You little mystifying minx!”

She had never heard him use that term before and didn't know whether he was scolding her or not. “I didn't
nap
them! I only borrowed them to have something of you with me at all times, as I said.”

He held out his hand with the items she had given him and said, “Keep them. They're yours.”

She slowly took them from him, feeling shy, but she did enjoy having them with her. They were a small token of his presence for when they were apart.

“As I'm yours,” he said finishing his thought.

His words melted her cautious expression, which became one of undisguised affection.

With a speedy look toward the door to see that it was still safely closed, he took her for another kiss, and Ariana did not have it in her heart to deny him. Afterward she smiled and returned the articles to her reticule.

It was a relief to know that nothing sinister was behind the so-called thefts, but Mornay had to shake his head and smile to himself. That Ariana was so eager to be his wife that she needed to possess some of his things was strangely touching. But as he was thinking thus, she turned a troubled expression up to him.

“But what of your shirt? I assure you, I had no hand in that work.”

“I'm thinking that one of the workmen perhaps wandered into my chamber.”

“But why would anyone ruin a good shirt, when he might have taken it and sold it or worn it himself? Particularly one of such superior quality?”

He nodded. “I know. I've had the same thought.”

Ariana's face grew cautious. “Do you think there is someone who does not want me here? Could it have something to do with me?”

He stroked the side of her face. “By no means. I should think my servants have been quite sincere in their huzzahs to me, and I believe they are actually eager to see how the presence of a woman will influence the household.” He paused and then added, “But I'll have a talk with Mrs. Hamilton and Frederick if you like. If we have a
grumbletonian
in our midst, they'll know it.”

To her still serious expression, he added, “Do not fret. Nothing will come
between us. If I find that a servant has had a hand in this—” His look grew formidable.

“You shan't hurt anyone?” She was alarmed by that look on him.

“No, but I'll see them brought to justice.”

“Oh, my dear. They could be hanged for less! You know as well as I do—that isn't justice.”

“Thieving from one's master is a serious offense. In addition to what you had in your reticule, a silver candlestick, and a small portrait of George III have also been napped. I keep that portrait of the king merely to antagonize Prinny and should hate to have it missing when he next calls!”

“The prince calls upon you?”

“Occasionally. He may not again. But I did enjoy having it on his account.”

“Do you not approve of the king for his own self?” she asked, a little chidingly.

“I have quarrels with some of his policies,” he answered. “But more of that another time. The point here is that, if you didn't borrow these items, then someone else took them.”

Her face looked troubled. “I didn't take them. I feel responsible, however. It seems as though my presence here has worked mischief somehow, and I don't know what can account for it.” And then she grew upset. “I—I don't understand how this could be. Are you certain these articles were not missing prior to my coming to the house?”