The following morning, Leigh went to have her unfortunate dress repaired. The seamstress suggested replacing the snagged overskirt and also said she would stitch on a new silk bouquet. Fortunately she had another blue aigrette that would match the gown.
While there, Leigh paid for and picked up the special garments the woman had completed for her safari. Earlier that day she had purchased a pith helmet and two pairs of walking boots for her impending adventure. While she was away, many of her possessions would be left in London at Chad’s townhouse. Others—used on the voyage to and from British East Africa and during her stay in Mombasa—would be stored at the hotel there, as she could carry only so many items with her on the trail.
When she returned to the hotel with her purchases, Lord Chadwick Hamilton was awaiting her with a frown on his handsome face. He helped her with the packages and followed her inside her suite.
The dark-haired earl questioned, “Where have you been, Leigh? I was worried. You promised not to go out alone again.”
Leigh smiled and replied, “I didn’t mean I would make myself a prisoner in my room, Chad. I was referring to going out alone at night.”
He exhaled loudly and shook his head. “What makes you think beautiful, wealthy females are any safer alone during daylight hours?” her guardian reasoned as he stood near the front window.
Leigh watched how the morning sunlight played over his appealing features as she related where she had gone and why. “I was very careful, Uncle Chad,” she teased. “I’m not a little girl, and I did carry my gun. See,” she remarked, opening her purse to show him the derringer before tightening the strings and tossing it on the sofa.
“I only have your word you know how to use it. Besides, a villain could grab your purse to rob you. Then where would you be? In danger again,” he answered his question.
“You worry too much, Chad. I’m an expert shot, and I stay alert. Did you find my locket?” she inquired to change the subject.
He looked disappointed as he told her, “No, but I did post the description and a reward. No word from your rescuer of last night?”
“None, but that doesn’t surprise me. I doubt he’ll appear at my door. If he does, I surely wouldn’t let a stranger inside. Oh, yes …” she began. “Why didn’t the doorman tell me you were looking for me when I spoke to him last night upon my return?”
Chad thought a moment, shrugged, and surmised, “Probably we talked to different doormen, else the mystery would have been solved more quickly. As for tonight, I’ll come by for you at half past six. Right now, I need to make a last visit to my office to be certain our arrangements are in order. Unless you have something special you want to do, I think we should all finish packing and rest tomorrow and Sunday. The first day at sea can be busy and tiring.”
“I remember,” she said, recalling her recent voyage from America. “We certainly have plenty to do. It sounds fine to me.”
“When Mother returns from India,” he suggested, “you can move in with her and get out of this cramped hotel. I’m sorry the house is closed up and the servants were given time off, but we didn’t know if or when you’d arrive, and she’s to be away for a long time.”
“You’re very kind and thoughtful, Chad, but this is fine. I wouldn’t want to use her home when she isn’t there.”
“Well, when we all get back, at least you can go through your family’s things. I’m sure you’ll find items you’ll want to keep. Mother said there are letters, photographs, and such that you should have.”
She smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Chad. I’m eager to get them. It’s very kind of your mother to let me go through everything.”
“Rightfully, family keepsakes belong to you,” he replied.
Leigh agreed, but said, “She was his wife for years, and I’m grateful she feels this way.” Leigh could not call or think of Lady Fiona Hamilton as Mrs. Webster or as her stepgrandmother. “I’m looking forward to seeing the country estate.”
“You’ll love it there, Leigh. It’s large and beautiful. But Cambridge is too far and our time too short to travel there before our departure. I hope you don’t decide to sell it; that estate has been in the Webster family for three generations.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” Leigh replied.
“I’ll see you later, my little ward,” he said before leaving. “If you need or want anything, have the doorman bring me a message.”
“I will, and thank you for everything, Chad.”
He clasped her hands in his and gazed into her deep blue eyes.
“This trip will be a wonderful adventure, Leigh. I only wish William and Mother could be with us. He planned it before he died. I’m delighted you’re taking his place. It’s just what we need.”
Leigh perceived the seductive aura about him and wondered if something would arise to prevent his amorous companion from going, as it didn’t seem proper in the first place. True, Chadwick Hamilton wasn’t blood kin to her, either, but he was her legal guardian and stepuncle. Nor, would they be alone in that exotic setting; Reid and Cynthia, the guide, and their bearers would be present. As if she hadn’t noticed his enticing behavior or was unmoved by it, she responded, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I know it will be marvelous.”
He released her hands and opened the door. He had told her before, but he repeated, “Be ready at five Monday morning. I’ll be here before dawn to get you and your luggage. We have to be aboard and ready to sail at eight. You are a prompt lady, aren’t you?”
They both laughed. “If anyone misses the ship, it will be Cynthia,” Leigh remarked. They both laughed at the shared joke, as Reid’s companion, the marquise was known to be always late for the purpose of making a grand entrance.
Leigh opened a dresser drawer and withdrew the handkerchief that her rescuer had given to her on the wharf to tend her bloody lip. The laundress had washed and ironed it, and the blonde was awaiting the occasion to place it in “Sir Lancelot’s” hand. She hadn’t been able to get him off her mind. He kept jumping around inside her head like a persistent flea looking for the right place to bite or nest. Who was he? What was he? Why had he been so changeable and secretive? Would she see him again? If ever she did, it would not happen before she returned to England … not for months. What if he was betrothed or wed? What if he didn’t live in London and was gone by now? She realized the odds were against another chance meeting.
Unless he saw the message about her locket and was reminded of his interest in her. What if he came to see her, or sent a message? What should she do? He was a stranger, a moody and mysterious one at that, so he could be dangerous. She should forget him, daydreaming about him could lead her into trouble.
No, she corrected herself, thinking didn’t imperil one; acting rashly on such thoughts did. She wouldn’t go to the wharf with the hope of sighting him, and she would remain in her suite this weekend as promised.
Leigh put aside the reminder of her misadventure with the desirable stranger. She was particularly restless today. She was accustomed to daily chores and exercise, activities that kept her busy and in firm condition. She was unused to servants—maids, cooks, laundresses, seamstresses—tending to everything for her. She did not care for a lazy existence. She wanted to stay active, not become someone waited upon hand and foot, or have so much leisure time that it compelled her into mischief.
For now, the stimulating safari would absorb her energy and thoughts while she mentally adjusted to her new life. Then, perhaps learning the business and settling in here would do so later. If not, she would seek—or follow—her destined path, wherever and whoever it might be.
Whoever . . . Her dreamy mind echoed and filled itself with the image of the man from last night. Forget him for now, and get busy, Leigh instructed herself, or you’ll be the one missing the ship Monday. If you do, you’ll be stuck here alone until Chad’s return.
Leigh pinched her hand and warned herself against such wicked thoughts. Beautiful dreams weren’t reality, she knew.
Leigh began packing until it was time to dress for tonight’s scheduled event at Lord Salisbury’s. It was such an important evening. Lord Cecil Salisbury was a man of many titles: three-time and current prime minister, four-time and current foreign secretary, Third Marquess of Salisbury, Earl of Salisbury, Viscount Cranborne, and Baron Cecil of Essendon. He was an aristocratic statesman of great wealth and power.
Leigh was looking forward to meeting the prime minister and to having a glorious time. With the fashionable long gloves, she wouldn’t have to worry about the scratches and bruises on her arms showing or have to change her choice of gowns. There was a scratch near her throat where her prized locket had been torn off, but her thick necklace of pearls—a gift from Chad—would conceal it. As she readied herself, she hummed and envisioned this special affair.
Leigh glanced around the festive ballroom where dancers were moving to the music provided by the group of musicians in one corner. People mingled with a guest list of over a hundred, chatting genially, joking, discussing politics and hunts, and laughing. Others observed the goings-on with keen interest while sipping wine or stronger drinks. And still others nibbled on delectable after-dinner treats. Never had she seen such opulence and elegance, or so many exquisite gowns and costly jewels. Everyone was having a wonderful time, including Laura Leigh Webster.
They had dined earlier in an assortment of rooms, a meal such as she had never eaten before. She had sat between Chad and Reid, away from the two women who so resented her presence but who were at least well-bred enough to behave themselves at such an important gathering. Afterward, the music and dancing had begun. She had danced with many men, some married and others available bachelors. Their conversation had been light and cordial and pleasant. Most had given her kind or polite condolences about her grandfather—a man widely known and respected—and queried her future plans. They had chatted about America, England, the queen, and her impending safari. She had received many invitations to dinner, tea, the theater, hunts, and other activities and had responded graciously in each case with a promise to accept the invitation upon her return to London.
Leigh’s pulse raced from her merry exertions. Her cheeks glowed from the excitement of it all and from the sparkling wine. Without conceit, Leigh knew she looked lovely in her ballgown of creamy satin with its flowing skirt and short train, both embroidered with golden threads in a floral pattern. The bodice was snug, with abundant pleats to give it the desirable fullness between it and the full bottom which accentuated a small waist that did not require the boned and laced corset to achieve an hourglass look. The short sleeves were puffed, with bows attached to the shoulders. The notable décolletage revealed tawny flesh, and a triple strand pearl necklace was fastened about her throat. Dark gold plumes fluttered in the breeze each time she twirled during a dance. When she was still, they rested fetchingly against her wheat-colored hair that was arranged in multiple curls atop her head. From beneath the golden sweepers of her gown peeked bronze kid slippers. Her grooming had been completed with long cream gloves. She was glad the seamstress Chad had recommended was so talented and knowledgeable about proper fashions and flattering colors.
Chad had complimented her numerous times about her “ravishing” appearance when he came to get her. During the evening, he had beamed with pride and possessiveness when other men did the same. But it was the envious and hateful glares from Lady Louisa Jennings that had convinced her of her success.
As she chatted with a stout lord with whom she had just shared a dance, Leigh saw the curry-haired, green-eyed Louisa dancing with Chad. She was dressed in a green brocade gown with ivory trim that looked enchanting against her ivory flesh. She was wearing a jeweled clasp in her fiery mane. As always, expensive cream almost concealed the abundance of pale freckles that splashed over Louisa’s nose, cheeks, and back. Her faint golden-red brows and petal-pale lips were darkened by expensive, imported cosmetics. At twenty-six, Louisa was a ravishing woman. She would have to be stunning, Leigh mused, to be the constant companion of the most desired bachelor in London. As if sensing Leigh’s eyes on her, the future countess turned and searched for her. Leigh averted her gaze and focused her attention on her partner once more.
As the evening passed, Leigh was aware of the vexed looks that Louisa gave to any female with whom Lord Hamilton danced or spoke. She noticed how the petulant woman tried to remain near Chad and tried to discourage any woman from approaching him. Leigh tried not to feel glad each time the flame-haired beauty failed in her futile task. Chadwick Hamilton was too much in demand by the fair sex, tonight and every day for women to succumb to the fear of Lady Louisa’s temper.
Leigh noticed how dashing he looked in his ivory waistcoat and gold-trimmed trousers—a color scheme that matched her own. She was also aware of what a striking couple she and Chad made.
Perhaps, Leigh surmised with amusement, the women were vying for the position of Louisa’s replacement. After all, if rumor could be trusted, Chad had stayed with Louisa longer than any of his past conquests. She had heard that Louisa and Chad were “very close,” and she understood what that meant. Everyone seemed to know about the affair, and that disquieted Leigh, who feared men would think she was another of Chad’s conquests. Perhaps, one day, women would be able to behave as they wished, but not yet, not without risking their reputations. Leigh knew she wasn’t a prude because she didn’t feel that physically responding to the man one loved was wrong or wicked in all circumstances but having sex without love was both. At least, that was what her mother had taught her, and she believed it. She knew from experience that life could be short and cruel, and there were sometimes valid reasons why lovers couldn’t wed.
But that wasn’t the case of Louisa and Chad, or Reid and Cynthia, either. Several of her dance partners had made certain Leigh knew that her guardian was unavailable but that they were eager for her company. From the way Chad’s gaze kept returning to and engulfing Leigh, she was doubtful of the assumption concerning her guardian, and that troubled her.
Leigh had danced with Chad several times, and he had introduced her to people whom he wanted to make certain she got to know. During one such time, she found herself in the company of Cabinet member Joseph Chamberlain, Britain’s colonial secretary, and a “very good friend” of her guardian’s. Chamberlain was credited with pioneering efforts in educational reform and slum clearance, taking steps to improve housing, and working for the municipalization of public utilities.
Years ago, the fervent Liberalist had been called a dissenter and an upstart, and had frightened the Conservatives. He had been past Prime Minister Gladstone’s cohort in the House of Commons. He had favored Irish reforms, Home Rule, for a time but had changed his opinions and sided with Conservative leader Lord Salisbury and become one of Salisbury’s followers. Currently he was secretary of state for the colonies and had an avid interest in African affairs.
After the introductions and his request for her to call him Joseph, he said, “I’m sorry about your grandfather’s death. William Webster was fine man. We dined and hunted together on several occasions.”
Leigh smiled politely at the lean, narrow-faced man. She noticed how his ribboned monocle made his right eye appear large and stern. She tried not to stare at it as she replied, “You’re very kind, sir. I only wish I had known him better.”
“Do you plan to remain in London with us?” Chamberlain asked.
Leigh was warm and weary from her exertions on the dance floor, from her attempts to behave correctly, and from the heady wine. She cooled her glowing cheeks with her fan as she replied, “I haven’t made any plans yet, but it appears I will stay if all goes well.”
“Of course you will,” Chad injected, grinning at her. “What could possibly go wrong or change your mind? Nothing, my dear Leigh.” When she smiled in appreciation, he continued. “It would be a crime to allow such a lovely jewel to escape our country. Besides, I’m looking forward to teaching you all about the business you inherited, and to working with you. You aren’t a woman who’s afraid of a challenge or a change in her life. You’re much too brave, confident, and intelligent to let anything defeat or trouble you.”
“Come now, Lord Hamilton,” she teased. “You know men do not care to have women intruding on their business affairs.”
“I don’t intend for you to intrude, Leigh,” Chad came back. “But working as partners will be most intriguing and delightful, most stimulating. Don’t you agree, Joseph?”
The colonial secretary removed his monocle and slipped it into his pocket before he answered. “I’m certain it will be. You may not know it, Miss Webster, but I’m a fighter for the rights and freedoms of everyone, including the female sex. If you’re capable of learning how to run Webster International—and Chad seems to have unshakable confidence in you— why shouldn’t you do so?”
“She has many talents, Joseph, and I’ll teach her the rest. I was thinking of investing in the Uganda Railroad if it looks promising when I reach East Africa. What do you know about it?” Chad inquired, abruptly altering their line of conversation.
The older man responded, “I think the railroad should pay for itself, Chad. Our friend and leader Lord Salisbury has pushed the concept for years. However, it could be a waste of money if defense of the interior is his motive rather than expansion and exploration. Ever since Uganda was made a protectorate in ’90, several politicians have been determined to open the way to exploit rather than colonize the area and draw on her abundant resources for the good of the empire. It’s my hope they don’t use the same methods Cecil Rhodes did to get his clutches on Zambesi. Excuse me—Rhodesia, it’s called now. We don’t need more trouble in our colonies.”
Chad and Leigh noticed the bitterness in his tone. It was no secret that Chamberlain was still stewing over the infamous Jameson Raid last December against the Boers in South Africa. There was something about Chamberlain that made Leigh uneasy and mistrustful. She observed him closely.
“Rhodes did do a lot of good work there, Joseph,” Chad said. “He’s become a millionaire with his gold and diamond fields. I wouldn’t mind succeeding in that grand a fashion.”
“Yes, but he’s caused a great deal of trouble among the Boers, Germans, and the natives. He’s been forced to resign as prime minister of the Cape Colony because of that Jameson business. I’m fortunate he hasn’t dragged me down with him, not yet anyway. I warned him to hold back his attacks until it was clear they were plotting against us. He claims he telegraphed Jameson not to make that raid in December, but the lines apparently had been cut and Doc never received his message. If Parliament and the queen don’t believe their claims that they went into thwart a revolution, I don’t know how this nasty situation will work itself out. He’s returned to the colony to ward off new trouble with the Matabele tribe. I dare say that neither matter is settled, and they won’t be without more bloody conflicts. Don’t tell me that is where you’re heading?”
“Heavens, no, Joseph. I’m taking Leigh and friends to East Africa. As far as I know there aren’t any warring Zulus or Matabeles in our newest protectorate. Those Zulus slaughtered thousands of Britains on their rampage. I certainly wouldn’t place Leigh or any of my party in that kind of danger. What I have in mind is hunting and sightseeing. I hear the game and landscape in that area are splendid. Leigh and I are looking forward to our adventure.”
Chad smiled at his ward before disclosing, “While we’re there, I want to check out a few business ventures: perhaps with ivory, hides, crops, gold, and diamonds. There’s also a big tourist trade blooming like a tropical flower. Safaris have become the very thing. Imagine what a luxurious hotel could earn there, not to mention the sale of garments and trinkets from native materials. The possibilities are endless. I could have cloth and skins shipped to our mills here, native garments made, then shipped back to sell to all those impressionable British females who want to bring back a piece of Africa to show off to friends. With the interior being opened up and the railroad moving along swiftly, it’s get involved now or be too late. The first man to pluck that exotic flower will be rich and famous. And I must admit it would be exciting to furnish animals or trophies for the Geographical Society and to have my name on little plaques beneath dangerous beasts on display.” He chuckled, then winked at Leigh.
“I hear the American Museum of Natural History has been working on African displays,” Chamberlain remarked. “I’m certain our Royal Society doesn’t want to lag behind the Colonists in any area. Have you made arrangements with them to sponsor your safari?”
“No, I want to be on my own. If something exceptional turns up, I’ll contact them by cable from the protectorate.”
“Make certain you don’t rile the aborigines’ protection society. They claim their task is looking after the interests of natives around the world and they gave Rhodes a hard time in his colony. They were afraid the Africans would be mistreated and exploited. I daresay though it is unfortunate, you can’t colonize any wild area without a little exploitation. The same goes for the Church Missionary Society; they put their noses into more than religion. They’ve sponsored several wars there, supposedly for the supremacy of the Protestant religion. They sold war bills for that conflict in Uganda. As for where you’re heading, I believe the Imperial British East Africa Company has it fairly well locked up. The natives are allowing the IBEA Company to build forts in their area. They have a treaty with a Kikuyu chief to supply the railroad with meat and other necessities. From the reports I’ve received, farmers, engineers, miners, builders, lawyers, missionaries, and soldiers are taking over most of Africa—Britain and foreigner alike. It won’t be wild much longer,” Chamberlain surmised. “Be glad you’ll see it before it’s spoiled by so-called civilization.”
“Is there much trouble with foreign goverments in Africa?” Leigh inquired. “Do you still have border disputes and battles? You and Chad have mentioned a lot of trouble.”
Chamberlain replaced his monocle, looked at her, and answered, “Mainly with the Germans and Dutch. They were in on that Jameson affair and other troubles. If we could move them and the Belgians out, we’d control most of Africa from the Cape to Cairo. If it were up to …”
The discussion was interrupted as Lord Salisbury paused to speak with the trio a moment. After small and cordial talk, the impending safari was discussed once more. Leigh observed the rotund but well-dressed man with his nearly bald head and a heavy beard. His naturally puffy lids almost concealed gentle and intelligent eyes. He told them they had little—if anything—to fear from the natives, especially the Masai who didn’t mind the British takeover. He began to talk about the queen, who could not attend tonight’s function. It was clear to Leigh that the man was filled with admiration and affection for her.
“As long as Victoria is on the throne, Great Britain and her colonies will prosper. She’s ruled for fifty-nine years, and is still quite young and vital for seventy-seven. Never have I known a more honest woman, and ruler. Have you met her, my dear?” he asked Leigh.
“No, your lordship, but I would be honored and delighted to do so if the occasion presented itself. Tell me more about her,” she encouraged, aware she was one of Lord Salisbury’s favorite subjects. Her mother had taught her that nothing relaxed or pleased a person more than speaking on a favorite topic and having a good listener. But Leigh’s interest was not a pretense; nor was her motive guileful. She wanted to know all about Britain and the country’s ruler. After all, she was half English and she might live her remaining life here.
“The queen is devoted to her family and her subjects. She is the symbol of middle-class virtues. She represents stability, decency, morality, humanitarian-ism, and progress. The throne will never be in jeopardy as long as there are monarchs like Victoria to occupy it. I’m glad you’ve come to our country, Miss Webster, and I hope you choose to remain here. We did have little tiffs with your country over the So-moan Islands and Venezuela, but we settled them nicely,” he teased.
Leigh smiled, amused that he hadn’t mentioned the Colonists’ victorious fight for independence over a hundred years ago. She knew that many of the Brit-ains still believed that America would eventually be brought back into the British Empire, be it by request or force. Leigh knew that would never happen. Yet she had wondered often what would have happened to her parents had Thomas Webster met Mary Beth Leigh during that fierce struggle for freedom: beautiful American patriot against handsome English warlord. She cleared her head of such romantic fancies to respond almost tardily, “I’m glad, too, your lordship. As you may know, I’m half British and proud to be so, and I do think I will be settling here permanently.”
A broad smile was almost concealed by the heavily whiskered face, his twinkling eyes were visible. “Excellent. I shall look forward to chatting with you again. When you return from Africa, contact me and I shall arrange for you to meet our beloved Queen Victoria.”
“You are most kind, your lordship,” Leigh replied. She watched him excuse himself to mingle with other guests.
Chad teased his ward first and then Chamberlain, “You charmed him like magic, Leigh and as for you, Joseph, you two seemed to get along fine. I thought perhaps our prime minister was annoyed with you these days.”
“We settled our differences when I sided with him against Irish Home Rule,” Chamberlain responded. “As you know, I’m very much in favor of imperial unity these days. But he is a little miffed over my alleged involvement with Rhodes and Jameson. Salisbury is a powerful imperialist. He’s also a very religious man. His wish would be to conquer the African natives with Christianity rather than with military or intellectual might. I myself doubt that is possible. I fear I must agree with Cecil Rhodes on one point; ‘Money is power, and what can one accomplish without power?’ Of course such a statement is possible for a man of his wealth and power.”
Chad laughed and jested, “You’re a clever man, Joseph, a wealthy and powerful one yourself, so you’ll be exonerated. If there is any way I can be of help to you in this or any other matter, I stand ready to do so, as always. We leave Monday, but I’ll return in late June. We’re taking a steamer, one of the newest by Cunard.”
“Cecil left South Africa on January fifteenth and docked here on February third,” Chamberlain informed them, “so your voyage should require about three weeks. Perhaps a little more if weather is bad.”
Before Leigh could ask questions about the voyage, Chad inquired, “Is Rhodes in London now? I’d like to see him again.”
“No, he sailed for Cape Colony a few weeks past,” Chamberlain reminded. “Word arrived of new trouble with the Matabele warriors and he left to settle it. I’m inclined to agree with whatever measures he must take. With ninety percent of the world diamond market at stake, we can’t afford to lose that area, nor can he. When we made it a colony, we staked our claim. Now, we have to defend it.”
A brave bachelor approached the group to ask Leigh for a dance. She was anxious suddenly to flee the men who were so engrossed in their entwined interests that she was almost ignored. Though she wanted to learn all she could about Africa and England, an invigorating dance might stir her sluggish body now from the wine and fatigue of listening to so much that was new to her. She slipped into the man’s arms and away they twirled.
As they moved in time with the music and her partner seemed at a loss of words, Leigh thought about the conversation. She hadn’t known the impending trip would combine business with pleasure, nor that Chad had commercial interests other than the firm. She hoped he wasn’t planning to venture out on his own and leave her floundering on the bank like a fish out of water. She needed his expertise to keep her from losing her inheritance. Perhaps he planned to use this trip to teach her how much she needed him. Perhaps he was perturbed that her recent peril had not caused her to fall apart—or to fall into his arms. She didn’t like that dark thought. Surely Chad hadn’t arranged that episode on the docks to terrify her into clinging to him. Surely he hadn’t swapped the notes during her absence. Those were horrible suspicions, she chided herself, and dismissed them. Yet soon she needed to know his plans for the future. From the corner of her eye, she saw Reid Adams and Marquise Cynthia Campbell dancing, and she focused her attention on them.
Chad’s best friend and constant companion was thirty-four. His sharp, narrow eyes gave him an intense gaze, and their grayish-brown color added an air of secrecy, of impenetrable eeriness. His nose was long, thin, and rather sharp. His mouth seemed tight, as if he had to force his lips over his teeth to close it. Reid’s face was triangular, the point at his chin and straight at his hairline, of medium brown. Despite his incisive features and spare frame, he was very nice-looking in a rugged manner. At six feet, he was lean but strong. From what she had heard, his father had made a fortune in shoe manufacturing but was wasting it on gambling and drinking. The wealthy and successful Reid had turned his hand to shipping, which was how he had met Chad. He was a quiet and serious man, and a strange one, always observing everybody and everything. He seemed a lonely, sad soul, and that touched Leigh’s tender heart. But, she reasoned, he didn’t have to pretend he was having fun, or force himself to be with the brunette.
Cynthia seemed to be enjoying herself. The widow of twenty-eight was wearing a fiery silk gown that clung to her enviable figure. Cynthia always was ready to join the group for fun and games but she apparently was not in love with Chad’s best friend and made no excuses for her feelings and conduct with the ruggedly handsome and wealthy bachelor. Maybe, Leigh surmised, they needed each other for physical and social reasons. The marquise obviously did not care what people said or thought about her— her manner of seductive dress and brazen behavior made that clear. Red plumes waved about in Cynthia’s brown hair as they danced, and a necklace of many diamonds glittered around her throat.
Leigh wondered if those expensive gems had come from the DeBeers Mine in South Africa, owned by Cecil Rhodes, whom the men had been discussing earlier. Between words of cordial banter with her dance partner, Leigh wondered if Africa was wilder than she had imagined. From the men’s conversation and from earlier talks with her guardian, it sounded as if there had been a great deal of trouble there over the years, trouble she hoped was under control by now. Still, the daring American decided, a certain amount of danger made any adventure more stimulating and challenging.
Leigh watched Louisa Jennings join Lord Chadwick Hamilton and Colonial Secretary Chamberlain. From their expressions and close proximity, the conversation near the far wall seemed serious and interesting, but she could not return to the group because she was in constant demand on the dance floor.
“Make certain you stay out of South Africa during your trip,” Chamberlain cautioned Chad. “I can’t say how long it will be safe there.”
“Probably safer than it is here for someone working against the Irish Home Rule Bill,” Chad commented on the nefarious Phoenix Park Murders of a few years past. “People in high places have already been murdered over that explosive cause, and you’re viewed a traitor to it. You’ve helped defeat it twice, old friend, so be extra careful. And don’t make any trips to Ireland like Lord Cavendish and Thomas Burke did.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve never been known to back down on a good fight. But why are you really going on this safari at such a time? William’s been dead for less than three months. Shouldn’t you stay here and make certain the transition of the firm to you and Leigh goes smoothly?”
Chad waited until Louisa left to dance with Reid, then replied, “Business, old friend, in two areas. I want to see what’s available there before it’s all claimed by others, and I’d like to get to know my new boss and owner better. If East Africa looks promising, can you help me get financial backing for control and expansion? Rhodes couldn’t have done what he did in South Africa without plenty of money from investors.”
Chamberlain glanced about to make certain no one was within hearing distance. “Salisbury has his eyes on the Uganda Railroad and East Africa. Whatever I did to help you, Chad, would have to remain between us. You realize we can’t use the same men and methods Cecil Rhodes did at the Cape. Another fiasco and I’m finished in government. By the way, who’s going to be your guide? As colonial secretary, I know Jace Elliott lives and works there. I hear he’s a Great White Hunter of enormous reputation and skills. Many of our friends have used Elliott as their guide, and I’ve received no complaints against him and his men. Too bad Elliott got into trouble with his father and had to exile himself to stay alive. Quite a terrible crime and scandal. The authorities are eager to ask him a few questions, then send him to the hangman or prison. He’s been lucky to avoid them so far. If he ever shows his face here, he’ll have a lot of explaining to do to stay alive.”
“Do you really think Brandon and Jace Elliott were involved in murder and arson?” Chad inquired.
“That’s what the evidence and court said, and Elliott’s suicide note revealed the same. It was confirmed to be in his handwriting, so he’s clearly the one who implicated his own son. Of course, there are those who believe the old man was insane when he wrote it and believe Jace is innocent. But if he is, why does he refuse to come forward and clear himself? I would venture it’s because he can’t; he’s guilty. I didn’t know Brandon Elliott well. He was in the House of Commons, but he was staunchly working for the passage of Irish Home Rule.”
“But did Brandon Elliott want it badly enough to destroy the opposition and himself?” the dark-haired man pressed.
“He must have. He killed himself before he could be arrested and tried. During the investigation, evidence was uncovered linking Elliott to those Irish rebels, the Invincibles. It’s no secret Stokely was against Home Rule, or that he had hired men to unmask them; he wanted revenge for the wanton way those rebels destroyed his company in Ireland. It could be that Stokely or his men found proof against Elliott, proof that was destroyed during the fire. And a dead man can’t talk.”
Chad shrugged. “I suppose you’re right about Brandon; evidence doesn’t lie. But it doesn’t sound like the Jace I went to school and sea with. Of course, he could have changed. I’ve only seen him a few times since those old days together, and he wasn’t too friendly. I suppose he’s still vexed over my affair with Joanna Harris.”
Joseph grinned and teased, “Ah, yes, I do recall that tiny scandal. I suppose that means he won’t be your safari guide.”
“I’ve hired a man named Jim Hanes, second best but skilled and reliable. Most of the guides are off doing other things this time of year. Their busy time is during Africa’s short rainy season from October to December. We English also prefer getting away to the tropics during our cold, damp winters. I realize we’ll hit the long rainy season of April to June, but it can’t be helped. It’s the best time to take Leigh before we plunge into hard work. Besides, it will be nice to be there when it isn’t crowded with other safari groups. We won’t have to waste time entertaining or being entertained in other camps. With luck, Jace Elliott won’t be around while we’re there. But if he is, maybe we can make peace.”
“Have you talked to your lovely ward about becoming one of your investors? She is one of the richest women in England now.”
“I don’t want to ask Leigh for anything this early in our relationship. I prefer for her to get to know me better. And that will be easier to accomplish away from so many distractions. As you can see, she’s made quite an impression on everyone, especially the young men. I might even confess, I’m more than taken by her myself. But if she makes an offer, I’ll accept it,” Chad added.
“Find a way to lock into the gold, ivory, or diamond prospects, and I won’t have any trouble obtaining you backers.”
“Don’t worry, old friend, I fully intend to make my fortune in Africa.” Chad grinned, then parted with Joseph Chamberlain.
The large but crowded ballroom had become hot and stuffy, so Leigh sneaked outside to cool and calm herself. She was having a wonderful time, but she needed to rest a moment. She had danced countless times and met numerous people. Yet she wished for the presence of one person who was not there.
Leigh strolled in the garden and gazed at the moon. In a few days, it would be shining on water during her voyage, then over a tropical jungle in Africa. The blonde passed a sparkling fountain, artistically planted floral beds, neatly trimmed shrubs, and imported trees, admiring all. She halted near a gazebo to relax.
Suddenly her lost locket dangled before her vision and a mellow voice from behind said, “I thought you might like to have this back.”
Leigh had not heard him approach. She whirled and almost seized the treasure from his extended hand. “My locket! Where did you find it? I feared it was gone forever.” Her hand closed around it and sentimental moisture glimmered in her eyes.
His green gaze traveled over her as Jace replied, “In the alley. It glittered in the moonlight. I’m glad I noticed it. Obviously it means a great deal to you.” As she gazed at the meaningful possession, lost in poignant reflection, Jace observed how the gold threads in her gown matched her hair. The white pearls and creamy fabric made a stunning contrast against her tanned flesh, silky skin his fingers longed to stroke and roam at leisure. Her waist was small enough for his large hands to encircle and nearly meet in front and back. It seemed like ages since he had last seen and touched her; yet it also seemed that no time had passed since their separation. He realized how pleasant it was to be with her again and hoped no one would interrupt this stolen visit. How he wished he didn’t have to sneak about to see her, but that couldn’t be helped for now. Her sultry voice warmed him as she spoke.
“It means so much to have it returned. Chad posted a description and reward for it. Thank you. I’ll see that you receive the reward. Where shall I send it? To whom?” she asked, meeting his gaze as she begged her body to stop trembling.