The Marquis At Midnight (21 page)

‘Stay right here.’

‘You won’t be long?’

‘We have time. It still wants twenty to
midnight.’

‘Remember, I will have to give you the slip
before then.’

‘I know that all too well!’

Grace remained where she was when he had
gone, breathing deeply, willing her capricious nerves to be still.
There really was no danger in this. It was a simple transaction.
She would meet Lovington, hand over the seal, receive Hester’s
necklace and IOUs in return, and leave. Lovington would never even
know that he was being watched. She could return to the
festivities, find Morvyn, and leave. And hopefully, never see
Lovington’s long, lugubrious face again.

She had only been alone for a few minutes
when a man in a green domino approached, bowing low. ‘My lady, may
I have the pleasure?’

‘Thank you, but I am a little tired.’

‘But Lord Lovington insists.’

This brought Grace up short. She stared at
the man who was, clearly not Lovington. He was too short and, now
that she was noticing such things, he had a very definite accent.
He was holding out his hand to her and, helpless to know what else
to do, Grace put her hand in his and was immediately swept onto the
floor.

What is going on? Morvyn will never see me
in this crowd.

For her partner had danced her directly into
the middle of the floor where couples immediately closed around
them, cutting them off from the view.

Bowing his head, he spoke into her ear.
‘Lady Pemberton, there has been a change of plans. Instead of
meeting Lord Lovington in the bower by the fountains on the lower
terrace, he will meet you at the northern rotunda. You cannot miss
it. It lies beside the bridge overlooking the smaller of the
ornamental lakes.’

Most definitely an accent, and French also.
‘But I do not know where that is.’

‘If you cannot find it, I will show you the
way.’

She did not like that voice. It was soft and
sibilant, his breath unpleasantly warm against her ear. By now,
they had danced their way to the other side of the floor and he led
her off, hand on her elbow, guiding her. Grace glanced through the
open door that led down to the gardens below. This wasn’t the plan.
Porter and his men would not even know where she was. But did she
have a choice?

‘I need my cloak. It is cold out there.’ And
she want to stall for time, give Morvyn the opportunity of seeing
her.

‘I will accompany you.’

The cloaks were kept in a long cupboard of a
room, hung up by an attendant. With the unknown Frenchman beside
her, Grace claimed her cloak and gloves, pulling them on. She
walked towards the double doors that led outside as slowly as she
dared, hoping that Porter had thought to put somebody there to
watch.

At the threshold, she glanced back. Her
mysterious companion stood watching her, eyes glinting unpleasantly
through the holes in his domino.

‘I will be watching you.’

Ominous words. Resigned, Grace went outside
into the cold night air, heading for the bridge that was visible
through the misty air. The pathways were lit by dozens of lanterns
and were still discernible, although growing hazy.

I hope that Porter is watching because if he
is not, we might lose Lovington and any chance of finding the man
who was undermining their efforts against Bonaparte. Please, let
someone be watching.

Where was she?

Morvyn stood on the edge of the floor, a
glass of lemonade in his hand as he scanned the dancers. He
experienced a moment of déjà vu. He had stood in much the same spot
looking for his sister ten days ago.

But now there was so much more at stake.

Where was Grace?

Putting the glass down, he began to move
determinedly about the room, looking for the distinctive purple
domino with its scattering of golden stars, the only good thing
that Lovington had contributed to the night. At least it would make
the woman Morvyn was looking for easy to find. However, look as he
might, she was not there.

Which probably meant Lovington had already
interceded, sending her into the gardens early so that she could
lose her partner. While he had accepted that she would be out of
his sight for at least part of the time, Morvyn did not like this
turn of events.

Heading out into the garden, the marquis was
beginning to regret that they had not gone with the drop off
option, no matter how risky it was. Like any plan, the theory was
far more easy to deal with than the actual, especially when it was
Grace who was in the middle of things. There was no reason to think
that Lovington would hurt Grace, none at all. He did not even know
that they had tumbled to him.

However, that didn’t stop Morvyn from
experiencing an increasing sense of urgency as he headed out the
door, hurrying down into the gardens. He stood for a moment,
looking around him. It was a cold night, the mist lifting off the
not too distant river to drift through the air, closing around the
gardens in a hazy, insubstantial blanket. It did not stop the
couples that wandered about, seeking places where they could be
private together, although tonight there were fewer about.

Morvyn did not see Grace, but he did see a
figure of a man alone disappearing on a path leading to the left.
There was nothing unusual in that. Many strangers walked the night,
but there had been something about the way he moved, a furtiveness
that caught Morvyn’s attention. It was in quite a different
direction than the one Grace was supposed to be heading in, but
still he hesitated.

Lovington had changed the plan once. Why
wouldn’t he change it again, just to be sure?

Morvyn made a sudden decision and headed
quickly down the steps in search of the retreating figure.

Grace stood nervously, looking up at the
rotunda. She walked up the five steps slowly, feeling unpleasantly
alone. This was definitely not what was supposed to happen. How was
Porter supposed to find the traitor when he could not find
Lovington?

The rotunda was empty. Grace walked slowly
forward and stared down at the lake whose surface was barely
visible, thanks to the mist that had drifted across it. It created
cloudy golden halos around the lanterns and hid her surroundings a
little too well.

‘Thank you for coming.’

The familiar voice brought her around
quickly. The tall, unmistakable figure of Lovington stood in the
entrance. Unlike herself, who had taken off her domino when she’d
donned her cloak, he still wore his, as black as the rest of his
costume.

‘Lord Lovington! You… You startled me.’ He
had, too. Her heart was racing.

‘Weren’t you expecting me?’

‘Of course I was, but the mist has come in
and it is so quiet here. Not the kind of surroundings that would
make a lady comfortable.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘You changed the plan. Why?’

‘You came with a companion. I wanted to be
sure that you were not followed. The marquis, of course.’

‘He wished to accompany me and I thought it
would look odd if I said no.’

‘Naturally. A lady would not go to these
occasions by herself. It would have looked very strange.’ He walked
forward, holding out his hand. It contained a small cloth bag. ‘As
you see, I have kept my side of the bargain.’

Grace eyed the bag. ‘May I see the
necklace?’

He chuckled. ‘Hester sent a worthy envoy. Do
you not trust me, Lady Pemberton?’

‘Not in the least. So you will understand
that I wish to see the necklace. It means a great deal to my
friend.’ Despite her current situation, this was the only positive
that might be taken from the night. The return of the Woodward
necklace.

Pulling open the drawstring, Lovington
pulled out the necklace, which glinted dully in the half-light. It
was undoubtedly the real thing, its setting quite distinctive. ‘The
IOUs are in the bag as well. And now, if you please. I believe you
have something of mine?’

Grace opened her reticule and pulled out her
own small, drawstring bag. Opening it, she showed him the golden
seal that Porter had given to her earlier in the night. She heard a
hiss of satisfaction from Lovington. ‘Give it to me!’

‘An exchange, I think my lord.’ They
exchange bags. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘And now, if you do not
object, I will go and find the marquis, for he must be wondering
where I’ve gotten to.’

‘What will you tell him?’ There was a hint
of curiosity in Lovington’s tone.

‘I will come up with something. I bid
you...’

‘Is that you Lady Pemberton?’

Both Grace and Lovington turned quickly to
look at the familiar figure of an unmasked Bertram Coslowe standing
on the bottom step.

‘Bertie?’ Grace said incredulously.

‘Evening, although it’s a mighty peculiar
one if you ask me. Do you know, I was damn well set upon by some
Frenchie in the garden? Jumped me, he did. Curst rum touch if you
ask me.’ Bertie glanced at Lovington and then scowled.
‘Lovington?’

‘Mr. Coslowe.’

Bertie’s eyes narrowed.
‘Aha! I’ve a suspicion that I know who jumped me then. Sounded
familiar, now I come to think about it.’ He pointed a finger at his
lordship. ‘It was
your
man.’

‘I can only speculate on how you come to
know that,’ Lovington drawled. ‘I doubt you’ve been
introduced.’

Grace was staring at
Bertie, unable to understand what was going on. How had he come to
be here of all places? ‘Bertie, what are you
doing
here?’

‘That’s a very good
question,’ Lovington agreed. ‘What
are
you doing here, Mr.
Coslowe?’

‘I was with friends in the garden when I saw
some fellow acting smoky, hanging about the bushes spying. So I
thought I’d ask him his business, but then he sloped off. He was in
front of me one minute and then he was gone so I went looking. The
swine jumped me.’

Of all the ill luck. Grace glanced at
Lovington quickly. ‘Yes, well, you can escort me back to the
pavilion, if you would. I need to find Morvyn.’

‘Morvyn’s here? Why isn’t he with you? Not
the way to behave, letting somebody wander around by
themselves.’

‘No, no, it’s fine. I went for a walk and
then I ran into Lord Lovington and… Oh really, Bertie, what does it
matter? Just take me back to the pavilion.’

‘Yes, but what are you doing out here with
Lovington because I have to tell you Lady Pemberton, I reckon that
fellow is a wrong ‘un. Not the kind of company a lady should be
keeping, not at all.’

Grace heard it then, the slight slurring of
the words. Not only that, but Bertie was not exactly steady on is
feet. Instead, he seemed to be swaying back and forth ever so
slightly. Which could only mean one thing. Bertram Coslowe was
bosky, well and truly in his cups, and she had the nasty feeling
that at any moment he would say something that would sink them
both.

‘Bertie, you’re fuddled. I
think I had better see
you
back to the pavilion.’ As she went to move forward
Lovington’s hand shot out, seizing her arm. Grace looked down at
the hand that held her. ‘My lord?’

‘It seems most peculiar to me that Mr.
Coslowe should appear right at this moment.’ He sounded quite calm,
almost meditative. ‘Do you not think so, Lady Pemberton?’

‘It’s a coincidence,’ Grace returned
breathlessly. ‘He is here with a party of friends. Clearly he has
had too much to drink. Do not be absurd, my lord.’

‘And yet…’ That hateful hand did not move.
‘Perhaps you should accompany me, Lady Pemberton. Just until I am
ready to leave Vauxhall.’

‘What do you think you’re about, manhandling
a lady like that,’ Bertie demanded, coming heavily up the rest of
the steps. Like many an inebriated man, he had slid smoothly into
belligerent in the blink of an eye. ‘Let Lady Pemberton go.’

Lovington’s free hand moved, a pistol
suddenly appearing in it. He pointed it unwaveringly at Bertie
while he pulled Grace close. ‘Do you know, Mr. Coslowe, you have
the most astonishingly bad timing?’

Bertie paused, blinking at the pistol
owlishly. ‘A pistol? What kind of man draws a pistol at the
Gardens?’

‘A man who does not take kindly to fools.’
Grace could feel the tension in Lovington’s body, so close to her
own. ‘Stand aside, Mr. Coslowe. The lady and I are leaving.’

‘The devil you are,’ Bertie retorted. ‘Get
your hands off the lady or by God, I’ll plant you a facer.’

‘If you do not stand off, I will shoot you,’
Lovington returned, his tone icy. ‘Lady Pemberton, if you
please.’

They began walking, edging around Bertie,
who was glaring at Lovington. Grace was worried that he would try
and charge Lovington, which would be disastrous, as she had no
doubt his lordship would fire.

‘Just stay there,’ she pleaded. ‘He will let
me go in a minute.’

‘Man’s a loose fish,’ Bertie growled. ‘Knew
it all along.’

‘While I treasure your opinion of me, Mr.
Coslowe, Lady Pemberton is correct. She will not be remaining in my
company for long. You will do her the greatest service by remaining
exactly where you are.’ And with that, Lovington hustled Grace down
the steps and into the, by now, mist filled gardens.

It was an eerie journey for the mist had
thickened to become a fog and visibility was severely curtailed.
Sounds had become muffled, distant shrieks and laughter from those
who were still trailing around the groves and grottos. Grace was
frightened by this turn of events, but she truly did believe that
his lordship would abandon her at the first possible opportunity.
He had no desire to take along what could only prove to be an
encumbrance. Unfortunately, the circumstances meant that it was
very unlikely that Porter would discover the identity of his spy,
for there were no men ready to trail Lovington now. The fog had
completed what his lordship’s change of plans had begun.