Chapter Fourteen

Monique put off her suitors for several days. Rejection, she found, increased desirability.

She had sent her regrets to Stanhope and he had not yet answered. Daven called at her home daily and attended the play yet another time. Stammel had sent imported chocolates and said he hoped she would go riding with him soon.

She finally accepted when he appeared at noon and begged her to go riding that afternoon. She started to refuse. It was, after all, deplorably late notice, and she truly needed a respite from her masquerade.

But the day was glorious, and she had heard much about Hyde Park. A ritual for the nobility in London. A place to see and be seen. She liked the idea. It was bound to raise the betting to a feverish pitch.

And Stammel had been the least forceful of the three. Perhaps she needed to charm him into being more of a competitor.

“Thank you, Lord Stammel,” she said. “You may pick me up at three, and I must be at the theater in time for my performance.”

Stammel beamed. Whether it was because he really cared for her company or the fact he would be seen as successful in the contest, she didn’t know. She didn’t care as long as it incensed Stanhope.

She had thought that the two men—Stammel and Daven—would fear Stanhope enough to back away. But all three seemed intent on seeing the wager to its end.

She selected a gown carefully. She would not be outrageous this afternoon as she met more of the ton. The dress was of a light blue muslin with a minimal amount of decoration, unlike the many flourishes on so many gowns today. It did have long sleeves and a high neck and was eminently respectable. Dani helped her into it, and perched a hat on top of gathered curls.

Monique looked in a box of jewelry and selected a simple bead bracelet, the only piece of jewelry her mother had. She had been given other pieces by protectors in France, but those had been sold off as her mother grew older and protectors became more stingy.

Monique had collected other pieces since then, mostly good replicas. But today she wanted something that connected her with her mother, and this particular bracelet was all she had. She had not worn it when she thought she might meet Stanhope. He might have recognized it, since her mother had always worn it.

She waited for Stammel’s arrival in the downstairs sitting room. She had a distaste for being even fashionably late, even for the likes of Stammel and his companions.

He arrived exactly at three with an armful of flowers and imported candy. His face was wreathed in an eager smile.

“It is a lovely day,” he announced, and for a moment she wondered how he could breathe. His poor valet had probably spent hours stuffing him into clothes meant for a leaner man.

“At your request?” she said with a smile.

He looked puzzled, as if wondering what she meant. Then realization flooded his face. “Why … yes,” he replied. “I ordered it just for you. Are you ready to go?”

“Oui. I have been looking forward to it. I have heard that Hyde Park is quite lovely.”

“It is. All the beau monde turns out on a day such as today.”

“Do you not have business?”

“Nothing is more important than you, mademoiselle,” he said gallantly.

“That is very kind,” she replied. “I do have one reservation, though. I have heard that there are sometimes ruffians in the park.”

“Be assured I can protect you,” he said.

“I will feel very safe then,” she said.

He was a bore. Insufferable. But she preferred his company to that of her father’s. Stanhope was evil. This man was corrupt. There was a difference.

She pasted her smile back on her face as he led her to the curricle. Two very fine bay horses were being held by Stammel’s tiger.

He helped her step up on the seat and took the reins.

She made several admiring comments about the horses and carriage, and the way he drove, which he did very well. Then she settled back in the seat and enjoyed the drive. It was a warm day for London.

Heads turned to stare at the stylish carriage, the matched horses, and the occupants. Stammel obviously enjoyed the curiosity.

He turned into Hyde Park, and she was greeted by the sight of a multitude of phaetons and other types of carriages as well as walkers and horsemen.

They passed several carriages, and she saw a certain pattern that amused her. Stammel nodded courteously as they passed other carriages, stopping twice to introduce her.

She tried to remember names. If these were friends of Stammel, no doubt they were also friends of Stanhope’s. There were the Viscount Thayer and his Viscountess; Lord and Lady Russell. If they did not stop, he might well identify the occupants of the passing conveyance.

As a ritual it was fascinating, and she could not disguise her interest. Hyde Park had the air of unreality. People driving along paths in endless procession.

“Have you seen Lord Daven recently?” she asked innocently.

“No,” Stammel said abruptly.

“Are you not in business together?”

“We have some interests in common,” he said, obviously reluctant to talk about another man. “But I have others of my own. Daven is not the most cautious of men, and he owes most of the merchants in London.”

“I thought he was a very wealthy gentleman.”

Stammel raised an eyebrow, as if questioning that statement.

Monique did not say anything, just allowed Stammel to feel that he had gotten his point across. Daven had money problems and would not be the best protector for her.

She would have to find a way to tell Daven that.

They were turning back to the main path leading out of the park when a man on a gray horse approached them. Her heart tripped and stumbled over itself. The dratted man. Was he everywhere?

He headed straight for her.

Gabriel enjoyed the first outing with his new mount, though it was a bittersweet journey. He rode to the Manchester estate, making it there and back in three days.

He arrived in late afternoon, riding hard and stopping only long enough to rest his mount.

His grandfather’s—now his—estate was much as described by Pickwick. It was in drastic need of repairs. He walked through drafty halls stained by rainwater leaking through a roof. A few paintings remained. His ancestors, he supposed.

Everything of value had been stripped away, most likely by his grandfather and father’s brothers. The furniture was even more worn than the overused fields. Carpets had rotted, the roof leaked, and decay was everywhere. Having neither the interest nor funds even to try to restore it, he would do as Pickwick suggested; allow it to revert to the Crown. He made himself a promise that he would provide funds for the few elderly retainers who remained.

He felt not the slightest jolt of regret at releasing the property, no connection to it. Only relief that nothing here drew him to it. His life was in America.

However, no one else was to know that yet.

He hadn’t seen his shadow upon returning home late on the third day, but there was a man in a wagon sitting not far down the road. Changed tactics? He was too tired to care. Tomorrow he would take up the game again.

He had accomplished one thing. He had seen the estate and it had no emotional power over him. No sense of obligation or heritage. Now he could concentrate on the reason that had drawn him to London.

The wagon was gone when he woke the next day. He did not see his follower, but he suspected the man—or someone else—was lurking around. Gabriel intended to lose whoever it might be. He wanted to see Stammel’s residence, and he wanted privacy to accomplish it.

He arrived at the baron’s home in the afternoon and watched as the groom saddled Specter. He’d given the lad a few shillings last night, and the lad grinned at him. “He is like ’is old self. Frisky, he is.”

“Because he has a fine groom,” Gabriel observed.

The lad beamed as Gabriel mounted and settled into the saddle. Leaving the stable, he looked around the street. No one. But then if the man was any good at his calling, he wouldn’t be easily seen, especially if he thought he had once been sighted.

Gabriel had always enjoyed walking, but Specter gave him the freedom he needed. He wished he had considered obtaining a horse earlier, and not just as a way to keep Smythe occupied. But he hadn’t planned on staying in London that long, and he hadn’t wanted a responsibility. The arrangement he had now with Baron Tolvery was perfect.

He nudged the horse into a fast walk, wanting to look behind to see if he was still being followed but, heeding his better sense, he did not. Instead he walked the horse for several blocks, finding himself going in the direction of Monique Fremont’s rooms. He was turning a corner as he saw a carriage pull away. A very fashionable carriage. Lord Stammel and Monique.

Gabriel decided to follow at a distance.

Mademoiselle Fremont was certainly doing very well for herself.

When it was obvious that they were going to Hyde Park, he pulled away and turned down a different lane. He wanted his meeting with Stammel and Monique Fremont to appear accidental.

As he reached the park, he saw a young girl selling flowers and on a whim purchased a bouquet of rather motley blooms, tossed her two shillings, and earned a brilliant smile as she looked at the coins with disbelieving eyes.

“Thank ye, milord,” she said.

He nodded and continued.

He felt the fool with the bouquet tucked on the saddle, but he moved on, watching curiously as the lords and ladies drove around in handsome carriages. He inclined his head now and then when he recognized someone. Not many. His acquaintances had been limited to the gaming hells, Stanhope’s soiree, and the ball.

Specter drew appreciative glances. He drew curious ones.

Then he saw Stammel’s carriage in front of him. He urged his mount forward as it approached. Stammel had no choice but to stop and acknowledge him.

Gabriel bowed slightly from his position on the horse. “I understand we might soon be business partners.”

“I look forward to it,” Stammel said. “Stanhope says you are an astute businessman.”

“I have done quite well in Boston,” Gabriel admitted. “But I would not like to bore Mademoiselle Fremont.” He offered the flowers to Monique. “A young girl was selling these and she was quite charming. I could not resist and now I am delighted I could not. They are not as lovely as you, but I hope you will accept them.”

“And if I had not come into your path, my lord?”

“I would have found them another home, but none, I think, as suitable as yours.”

“Charmingly said,” she returned. “I would not like to see them orphaned.”

He grinned at her quip as Stammel glared.

“Ah,” she said. “A flower girl, you say.”

“She had only a few left and she looked weary.” He immediately knew he shouldn’t have added the last.

“Ah,” she said. “The American marquess has a heart?”

“A whim,” he insisted again.

She reached out to take the flowers, and Gabriel saw the flash of resentment in Stammel’s eyes.

As she took them in her arms, he saw something fall from her wrist onto the ground. He knew he should mention it to her, but instead he backed the horse slightly and gave a bow of his head. “Good afternoon, my lord. Mademoiselle.”

She gave him a smile that lit her eyes this time. “Merci, monsieur.”

“Lord Manchester,” Stammel said and flicked the reins. The horses moved forward.

Gabriel waited several moments, then saw another carriage coming. He quickly dismounted and took up a single bead bracelet, then mounted again.

Now he had a very good reason to visit Monique Fremont. He hadn’t thought a personal visit from him would have been accepted now that he was calling on Lady Pamela.

He looked forward to a few private moments with Monique. Perhaps he could discover more about her and why she had focused on the three men who had also drawn his attention.

He looked at the simple bracelet. It did not look like something she would wear. Her clothes were all expensive, elegant in their simplicity. They were designed to compliment her, not to take attention away from her. There were no bows, little lace, few flounces. No ribbons.

Gabriel had expected her jewels to be just as well chosen. Elegant pearls. A cameo. Sapphires. Yes, the latter would best suit her.

But the bracelet looked valueless. Unless she wore it for sentimental reasons.

And what would those be?

He tucked the bracelet in his riding jacket, then took a look around. He saw no one who looked in the least bit as if he was following him.

The sun was descending. The breeze was increasing. The skies were clouding. There would be fog tonight, and that suited his purposes.

He left the park, seeing that young girl was gone. Another girl selling flowers had taken her place.

Thinking he would impoverish himself, as well as destroy the image he’d worked so hard to cultivate, he purchased more flowers, this time for Lady Pamela. A trip to Stanhope’s to see his daughter was necessary to keep up the charade of a man eager for her hand. Perhaps Stanhope would be there. Perhaps he could bait him.

Then he would disappear into the fog and the dock area.

And tomorrow … tomorrow, Miss Fremont. That thought lightened his heart, even though he feared she might be every bit as treacherous as his foes.

The bracelet was gone!

Monique had returned home and managed to rid herself of Stammel, who obviously hoped to stay longer.

“It would not be fair to the others,” she had explained, and he’d left with poor grace.

Then she took off her gloves and found the bracelet missing. Could she have lost it in Stammel’s curricle?

He was gone, and she did not want to make him wonder why she was worried by a simple bracelet, and he might even mention it to Stanhope, who might well remember it.

She wanted to weep. The bracelet was all she had left of her mother. It wasn’t much but she treasured it.

Perhaps she could suggest they go riding again, and she could search the floor of the carriage.

Dani noticed her concern. “Where could it be?”

“Perhaps on the floor of Lord Stammel’s carriage,” she said.

“I can search it while you are on stage,” Dani offered. “He usually comes to the theater.”

“He would have servants.”

“I can say you sent a message for him earlier and I was late in delivering it.”

Monique considered it. “We shall see,” she said, though she realized she would do almost anything to retrieve that bracelet.

“You might go outside,” she said, “and look along the lane. I might have dropped it getting in or out of the carriage.”

Dani’s face lit, and she quickly left the room and went out the door. In minutes she was back, shaking her head.

Disappointment ran through her. “Paul Lynch’s carriage will be here any moment.”

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, then nodded her head. “As soon as you finish with my hair at the theater, go to Stammel’s home. If you can find the curricle, you might look inside, but if you see anyone, leave. I cannot lose you, too.”

“You will never lose me,” Dani said.

Just then she heard the carriage that came for her each night. She had not had time to change clothes, but she took her cloak from Dani. It promised to be a cold night. “Take my gray cloak,” she instructed Dani. “It will fit in well with shadows.”

Monique wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing. She might be putting Dani in jeopardy. But she would have a reason for going and if worse came to worse she would explain about the bracelet and hope the man didn’t wonder to Stanhope why she hadn’t just asked him. And Dani had been an accomplished thief. She knew how to be invisible.

The carriage rocked through the streets and delivered her to the backstage entrance of the theater. It was a full house tonight, just as it had been since the play first opened. Mr. Lynch was a very happy man and was ready to do almost anything she asked.

As she went through the door, she sensed a new level of excitement. Members of the cast were whispering excitedly.

“The Prince of Wales is here tonight,” someone told her.

Lynch hurried up to her. “Prinny is here. I gave him my box. He will most certainly want to meet you afterward. If he likes the performance, perhaps the theater will be licensed for dramas.”

There was a plea in his voice, as well as excitement. He almost tittered with it.

“I will do my best, as I always do, monsieur,” she said.

“You will meet with him after the play.”

“If he requests.”

Lynch beamed.

When she went on stage, the magic wrapped around her as it always did. All her personal concerns disappeared, and she became the betrayed wife. Richard Taylor, her leading man, was always competent, but now he had an extra dash about him.

They took more curtain calls than ever before. She looked up and saw that Prinny was standing, a vast smile on his face.

When she returned to her dressing room, Dani was not there. She should be back by now. Stammel’s town house was not that far away. Monique’s pulse speeded and she said a small prayer. She should never had made so much of the bracelet. If anything happened to Dani because of her—

A knock came at the door, and she knew instinctively it was the Prince of Wales, a large man with a face that reflected dissipation.

“I wish to offer my compliments for a splendid performance,” he said as his eyes slowly undressed her.

She curtsied. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said.

“You shall join us for supper,” he said with royal command.

“Thank you for the honor, but I have a previous engagement.”

He eyed her speculatively. “I have heard about the competition, Miss Fremont. And I have placed my own wager, knowing the three men involved. Is one of them the lucky man tonight?”

“I should not say,” she said coquettishly. “I would not like to influence the wagers.”

“A discreet woman,” he said. “But I do not give up easily.”

And then he was gone, and Lynch stood there with his mouth open. “You refused Prinny,” he said with dismay. “I will never receive a license.”

“He said he does not give up,” she reassured him.

“Then …”

“Then nothing,” she said. “But anything attained easily is not valued.”

The answer seemed to mollify him. He backed out.

She gave a deep sigh. She felt like a juggler, balancing far too many balls at one time.

And where was Dani?

Gabriel had the forged seal in his pocket. He’d gone by the printer’s, then the inn, where he changed clothes and emerged with them well hidden under a cloak.

The fog had settled over London by midnight. He rode Specter to a respectable part of the city, a section quite close, in truth, to Stammel’s home. It was time to pay the man a visit.

If Stammel stayed to pattern, he would either be at the theater pressing his attentions on Monique Fremont or in one of the men’s clubs.

Gabriel wanted to get inside, to see whether Stammel had any documents that Gabriel could use. The more he knew about The Group’s business affairs, the more he could do damage to them.

He had decided not to use the foil of a beggar, but rather a drunken gentleman who couldn’t find his own house.

As he had done with Stanhope’s home earlier, he took note of the oil lamps flickering inside. One by one they flickered off until only what must be the hallway appeared visible. Most of the servants were likely abed and any others in the servants’ room awaiting the arrival of their master.

The fog was similar to that of the other night. Forms turned into little more than shadows.

The streets were empty except for the rare clattering of a carriage.

As he approached, he saw a figure slipping out of a path next to the house. The form was short, graceful, and wore a gray cloak he thought he recognized.

It could not be Monique. She would be acting.

Then he heard a shout and a wiry figure running after the first. The woman started running toward him, and the hood of the cloak slipped and he saw a profusion of red curls. She didn’t see him until she passed just feet away. She shied away and continued to run. The man behind her was gaining.

Gabriel stepped behind a streetlamp and watched her pass, then staggered into her pursuer. Both of them went down.

The pursuer tried to untangle himself, but Gabriel couldn’t quite gain his feet and kept landing on him.

He heard a curse.

“You should watch where you are going,” Gabriel said rudely. “Running in the streets, striking gentlemen. I could have been hurt. Who is your master?”

“That person is a thief,” the man said.

Under the light, Gabriel saw that the man was small and wiry. He probably served as groom.

“What did she take that was so important that you assault decent folk to retrieve it?” Gabriel asked in a slurred voice.

“She were in the stable. Tryin’ to steal my master’s horse.”

“But she did not, did she?” Gabriel said. “Or she would be on it, rather than running for her life. Most likely, she was seeking a warm place to sleep tonight.”

The man was not ready to give up. He was looking toward the trees. There was no sign of the intruder.

“I think I should call the constable,” Gabriel said with haughty indignation. “We cannot have assaults in the streets.”

The servant brushed himself, obviously surrendering. “Please no, yer lordship. I was doin’ me duty.”

“Well then, we shall forget it for tonight,” Gabriel said, “but I would be careful, my good man, about accosting gentlemen and knocking them down.” He turned and lurched back down the street.

The household would be roused now. He would search some other time. But now he had an intriguing piece of information. He would have sworn the figure was Monique Fremont’s maid.

Was she looking for the bracelet? And, if so, why?

Another facet to the very fascinating Monique Fremont.