The House in Grosvenor Square (35 page)

Freddie entered the parlour and handed the note from the Regent to his master, who opened it and asked, “Is the man waiting for a reply?”

“He waits for you to accompany him to Carlton House, sir.”

“What, now?” came the startled reply.

“Indeed, sir.” The servant's tone said that he agreed the summons was a nuisance.

Mornay read the contents quickly, while Ariana waited frowning.

“Thank you, Freddie. Tell the man I'll come shortly.”

After he'd gone, Ariana asked, “You will go with him then? To Carlton House?”

“Prinny seems to require my presence, though I can't imagine what for.”

She shook her head. “Can you not send a note in return? You are not fit to go, sir.”

This made him raise his head. He thought for a moment. “I'll have to go, I'm afraid.” But he was frowning. “I don't like to leave you alone again.”

“I am not disturbed by that,” she replied. “But I suppose I should return to my aunt, as she wished.”

“That's out of the question,” he interjected sharply.

She said shyly, “Phillip, I am still without a proper chaperone. Lavinia could not come. This won't do at all. Think of the talk.”

At that moment the servants arrived with their meal. First they put down a white linen cloth and then their place settings. All the food arrived in covers, and glasses were filled. Ariana just watched her beloved, waiting to speak privately once more. When they'd gone, she sat across from him, but the table wasn't meant for eating at, and the height was a bit awkward.

“Do as I do,” he said, and he actually sat down on the carpet. She had to giggle, but she came and sat beside him rather than across from him.

“Shall I say the blessing?”

Their eyes met, and his were intrigued. “Is that your habit?”

“Of course!”

“Then do so, please. In the future I will.” She was so pleased, she could have kissed him, but remembered how he had pushed her away from him earlier. She had been thoughtless then. She needed to help him maintain propriety—even if she was staying in his house against all reason.

Ariana purposely made their first shared mealtime prayer short, and then they ate together. The food was excellent, but she could scarcely give heed to it, though she did eat. He was tired, she knew, and so she contented herself just to eat with him and get to look at him as much as she liked until he had to leave to see the prince. They were comfortable together even though they said nearly nothing throughout the meal, and even that brought her contentment.

The candelabra on the table threw comfortable shadows around the room, and she had a sudden strong wish that they were married, already. For a moment she thought she understood exactly how he must feel at times. Just then he said, “Are you aware that you've been staring at me since we sat down together?”

She smiled. “Yes. And I'm quite enjoying the view, thank you.”

His face froze for a moment.

“Have I shocked you?” she asked.

“You little minx!” he finally said. “Are you trying to drive me mad? Didn't your mother ever tell you not to say such things?”

“No, I'm afraid not.”

He sat up and leaned over and kissed her cheek. They were close to one another, and their eyes met. He leaned his head down again but heard a sound at the door and pulled abruptly away.

“Sir, the prince's man says the horses are restless.”

“Yes, I'm coming. Thank you, Freddie. Send Fotch to me directly.”

“He is waiting for you, sir, in your dressing room.”

“Very good.” Once again they just looked at each other. Finally he said, “I will have your maids sent to your room, and I want two men at your door. I hope I don't have to say that you are not to leave the house.”

“No, you do not.” She was still looking at him with that little smile.

“I'm afraid I must tell you to stop looking at me like that, or—or I will forget myself entirely.”

The prince's liveried messenger was waiting, holding the reins of two horses. Mr. Mornay came out in fresh attire, and only someone well acquainted with him could have told that he was going on so little sleep for two days. With astonishment, he realized he was expected to ride to the prince's house—at night! And on a strange horse. What on earth was Prinny thinking? Was he short on carriages?

He took a minute to pet the horse, speaking gently until it nudged its head against his arm. Thank goodness, it was good-natured. He petted it some more, then nodded to the groom, who held the reins to steady the animal until he had mounted. He wasn't wearing riding boots, but he didn't care. He had no time to. He had other things—like the beautiful girl he was leaving just now—to think of.

With a gentle kick to the horse's side, he started off, following the servant. On an impulse he glanced up at the house and found her watching from a window. He felt an unfamiliar tug at his heart, which increased as she waved gently. He nodded at her and then headed toward the corner of the square, where he lost sight of the house.

Mr. Mornay looks exceedingly handsome on the saddle,
she thought.

Mornay was quickly ushered into an inner room of the prince's private apartments. His Royal Highness was seated at a table and beckoned for Phillip to join him. He motioned for his glass to be filled from a decanter, which a beautifully liveried footman did. Mr. Mornay knew it would be excellent quality wine.

He sat down after bowing to the Regent, who was giving him a wry look.

“Dash it, Mornay! You kept me waiting so long that I was beginning to credit that deuced report they're saying about you!”

He took a sip from his glass and replied, “What report is that?”

The prince seemed surprised. “That you've gone and eloped, of course. I knew it couldn't be true, but I had to check, nevertheless.”

“You needn't have dragged me out. You could have asked me through a note, you know.”

“Seeing is believing, old chap, and I had to know for certain.”

“And what's the business with the horse? I'd have much preferred my carriage.”

“Well, that was on your account. I've heard the streets are crawling with traffic because everyone's bursting to share the news of a certain man's elopement.” This brought a familiar scowl, and the prince looked knowingly at his friend. “I've seen you looking better. What the devil are you up to? Something, I've no doubt, that started the rumour.”

Mr. Mornay sighed. “Someone has been trying to abduct Miss Forsythe—wants to pluck her right from under my nose. There have already been two attempts on her, and I insisted on having her beneath my roof— with chaperones present to ensure her safety.”

The Regent's face revealed his shock. He set his glass down and wiped his face hurriedly with his napkin. “Well, I can't blame you, old man, but beneath your roof? I begin to understand why there's talk!” He had to laugh. “Sorry, Mornay, but to think of
you
being in such a position!”

“Miss Forsythe has two servants with her from Hanover Square, and we sent for her friend, a Miss Herley, to come as a companion, but
she
was abducted en route. I am convinced she was mistaken for Miss Forsythe because Mrs. Bentley was with her.”

The Regent could be a very feeling man at times, and this occasion found him so. “Dashed coves! A Miss Herley, you say? Any news of her since?”

“I got word that she is returned safely. I suppose they discovered their mistake.”

“And your Miss Forsythe? Is she safe? Where do you have her?”

“She is still beneath my roof. My Aunt Royleforst would have come already, but her doctor advises against her leaving her bed just now. Apparently she has been ailing, though I've yet to learn the details.”

The prince wiped his mouth again delicately with the linen napkin and gave his friend a thoughtful look. “Perhaps we should find a different house to keep her in. A safer place, where they won't be looking for her.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. “Above all, the place and people must be respectable. I could have Lady Hertford take her in.”

“You said ‘respectable.'”

“Don't start with me, Phillip!”

“Any other ideas?” Mornay knew Ariana would be miserable if asked to stay with the Regent's mistress.

“I'll think on it and send a note when I've hit upon it. That's all you need, you know, the presence of a good matronly dame, and that'll shut every ‘bone box' in London.”

“In the meantime, sir, I think I must return to the house speedily. I trust no one at this point but myself to keep her from harm's way.”

“Well, of course.” His Royal Highness still looked thoughtful. “One other thing, Phillip. I've been told I should create you a baronet. What think you of that?”

Mr. Mornay was taken by surprise. “I cannot think why.”

The Regent laughed. “Because you're so devilishly fashionable that you ought to be a title. It will make your lady a real lady, and then when people say ‘Lady Mornay,' it will be accurate and not send the other real ladies up into the boughs!”

When Mr. Mornay was still silent, he added, “I'm sure I could find you a place in the household fitting your station, so you'll perform proper ‘service to the crown' and so forth. I'll give you a turn at being the gentleman of the wardrobe—that ought to suit you, eh?”

“A dignified valet?” Mr. Mornay seemed amused.

“Well, dash it, yes! To your future king! I'd like you to do it, Phillip. I'm taking a great deal of slack lately with regard to my costume, and I'd like to end all that. I'm confident that you are the man to transform me in the eyes of the dashed press!”

Mr. Mornay folded his arms. “I am about to be married, sir.”

“Precisely! It will be my gift to you. Miss Forsythe should be pleased, I daresay.”

“Let me think upon it.”

“Of course.”

“Can you offer me any help with regard to protecting her until we wed?”

This was a daring request. The Regent had no obligation to do any such thing, but he was, after all, a personal friend. “What do you need?”

“Two of your guard. Well trained with arms.”

He was silent for a moment while he thought. “Done. You go on home to your Miss Forsythe. I'll send them along.”

“Excellent! Prinny, you're quite the thing…at times.”

The Regent was gratified. He smiled and shook his hand. “Glad to help,
my friend. And I will appreciate your accepting the baronetcy. Let me know,
Sir Phillip
, will you?”

Mornay exhaled a little laugh.
Sir Phillip! No doubt the prince means it as an honour, but never for a second have I wanted a title or any of its traditional responsibilities either. Gentleman of the wardrobe, indeed!