Chapter Twelve

“The Duchess of Marlow. Lady Cecily Randall, Lady Diana Randall,” the footman intoned, and the people gathered in the drawing room looked around. The news that Lady Cecily’s engagement to the Marquess of Edgewater had been broken had been announced only that morning, and the room was abuzz with speculation. Cecily was well-liked, but there was no question that she occasionally got up to mad starts. Waltzing with St. Clair at Almack’s, for example. No young woman wishing to guard her reputation would do such a thing. It made one wonder just what else she might do, and how a man like Edgewater might react. He was, after all, a catch. What made peoples’ tongues wag even more was that he was present tonight.

“My dears.” Smiling broadly, the Countess of Chatleigh crossed the room, her hands outstretched. “Your Grace. How very good of you to come.”

“Thank you, Lady Chatleigh,” the duchess said graciously. “Such a crowd as you have here tonight! It is a sad crush.”

“Yes, quite sad,” the countess said, her face straight. “Chatleigh and I planned to hold only a small do, to announce that we’d returned to town, but I’m afraid that once Aunt Helmsley heard of it things—well, changed.” She shrugged, but a smile played about her lips.

“Dear Lady Helmsley. I must have a word with her. Is she here?”

“Yes, your Grace, on the sofa over there. Cecily, you look lovely! And Lady Diana, your gown is beautiful.”

“Thank you, Melissa.” Cecily briefly pressed her cheek against Melissa’s. Though married, and with an infant daughter, Lady Chatleigh was only a year older than Cecily. The two had become fast friends last year, during Cecily’s first season. “It’s so good to see you again! I have so much to tell you.”

“I can imagine.” Melissa took Cecily’s arm and strolled with her into the room, alive with conversation and movement and color. “My dear, I must warn you that Edgewater is here.”

“Here? Tonight?” Cecily stopped short, unable to hide her dismay, though she was aware of people watching her.

“Here? Where?” Diana demanded.

“I fear so. We had invited him before all this happened, else we wouldn’t have. I am sorry.”

“Well, I’m not. I don’t understand it at all, Lady Chatleigh, do you?” Diana’s eyes were very blue and very guileless. “I mean, he’s so handsome!”

“I explained it to you, Diana,” Cecily murmured. “We decided we didn’t suit.”

“Well, he didn’t look as if he thought so yesterday, after leaving Papa.”

Cecily’s smile was strained. “People are watching us, Di.”

“And it’s none of their concern, of course, though I fear you’ll be asked a lot of questions tonight,” Melissa said. “Lady Helmsley wishes to speak with you.”

“Oh, no.”

“Don’t worry.” Melissa smiled. “I believe she wishes to congratulate you.”

Cecily glanced at her sidewise. “You never did like Edgewater, did you?”

“Not very much, no.”

“Why not?”

Melissa shook her head. “It’s past history. But I’d watch out for him, Cecily. He can be vindictive.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” She had no desire for a confrontation with Edgewater, not here, not anywhere.

“Oh, but there is someone here I think you should meet,” the countess chattered, leading Cecily into the room. Cecily glanced down at her, radiant in emerald green satin that brought out the fire in her coppery curls. Lady Chatleigh was not only beautiful, but a kind and generous person. And happily married. Cecily envied her that. “He’s a school friend of Chatleigh’s, and he’s been on the Continent the past few years. He stayed at the Hall with us last year and I found him quite charming. And,” she added, thoughtfully, “more lonely than he cares to admit.”

Cecily smiled. “Melissa, please! I’ve just broken my engagement. Surely you’re not matchmaking already.”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. But I do think you’ll like each other. Stay right there and I’ll find him.” She threaded her way through the crowd, leaving Cecily to stare after her, bemused.

“I don’t understand it, Cece,” Diana hissed in her ear. “Why did you break your engagement?”

“I didn’t love him, Di.”

“I know you didn’t, but you said—”

“I know. I said we’d suit. I was wrong. Isn’t it better for us to find out now?”

“But he’s so handsome and charming—”

“If you feel that way, why don’t you marry him?”

“Really, Cece.” Diana pouted. “There’s no need for you to snap at me so.”

“That woman terrifies me,” the duchess said, returning to them and plying her fan vigorously. “She always asks me questions I can’t answer and then smiles! So warm in here, don’t you think? She’s a dragon, but she has such power, it doesn’t do to ignore her. Where is Lady Chatleigh?”

“Gone to find someone she wants me to meet,” Cecily said.

“Edgewater is here, Mama,” Diana put in.

“Yes, so I’ve been told. I do hope you won’t cause a scene, Cecily.”

“I—!” Cecily began, and then broke off, her eyes widening a bit at the sight of the man on Lady Chatleigh’s arm, coming towards them.

“Oh, gracious, she isn’t really going to present him to you, is she?” the duchess exclaimed.

“Mama, remember what Papa said.”

“Yes, I know Marlow said we must receive him after the other night, but really, Cecily, this is the outside of enough! St. Clair.” The duchess held out two fingers, her smile polite. “How very nice to see you again.”

“Your Grace.” Alex bowed over her hand, only the look in his eyes telling Cecily what he really thought of this meeting. “A pleasure to see you again, ma’am. May I say how very well you look tonight?” he said, with his most charming smile.

“Why, thank you, sir.” Flustered, the duchess put her hand to her hair, as if to check that her feathered headdress was straight, and Cecily, her eyes briefly meeting Alex’s, bit back a smile.

“I see you do know each other already,” Melissa said brightly. “I’ll just leave you then, shall I? I fear I must see to the refreshments.”

Her going left an awkward silence. Alex sent an inquiring glance towards Cecily, who simply smiled. She wasn’t about to tell him what she suspected the countess of. Matchmaking, indeed! Her eyes were thoughtful, though, as she looked at him, so handsome in black evening coat and pantaloons it made her heart ache. He could have any woman he desired. Why would he be interested in her?

“I see someone I must speak to,” the duchess said, her voice, for her, unusually firm. “If you will excuse us, sir—”

“Let me escort you, ma’am. Three such beautiful ladies should not be left alone.”

“Gracious!” The duchess stared at him. “Thank you, that is very kind of you.” Placing her fingers on his arm, she let him bring her over to some acquaintances, her daughters following. Cecily had to bite back another smile, at the look on her mother’s face. Even she, apparently, was not immune to St. Clair’s charm.

It was some time before Cecily was able to have a word with Alex, and during that time, her amusement grew, as she watched him with others. He had apparently been accepted, scandalous reputation or no, and to see him talking with bejeweled dowagers or painfully shy debutantes was enlightening. He knew quite well how to handle women; he was the epitome of the man about town, and yet every now and then he glanced at her, his expression wry, as if he realized quite well what was happening and was as amused by it as she.

“You have become quite respectable, sir,” Cecily said, sipping the punch that he brought her, sometime later. “I heard even Lady Helmsley spoke well of you.”

“‘And with every word, a reputation dies,’” he quoted, making her laugh. “You look well tonight, Cecily. I didn’t have the chance to tell you before.”

“Thank you, sir.” Cecily’s tone was light, but she was pleased; her gown of rose satin with its blond lace overdress was new, and somewhat more sophisticated than she usually wore. In it she felt adult, and very attractive. “The countess is quite beautiful, is she not?”

“Indeed. And very married, as well.”

“So she is not one of your flirts?”

“My flirts? But, madam, as you just pointed out, I’ve become respectable.” His eyes twinkled. “Even the Duchess of Marlow speaks to me now.”

“Yes, Papa told her to,” she murmured, taking a sip of her punch. “I suspect people are talking about us, sir.”

“Let them.” He scanned the milling crowd. “Edgewater is here. Have you seen him?”

“No, thank heavens. I suppose I shall have to face him someday, but I’d rather it not be here. There’s been enough talk.”

“Better before a group of people than alone.”

Cecily shot him a glance. He really did believe Edgewater might try to hurt her, though the more she thought about it, the less she credited it. Certainly he had scared her the other evening, but he was a gentleman, was he not? And he seemed too languid, too civilized, to attempt anything so savage as revenge. “I’ll be glad to put it all behind me.”

“Indeed.” Alex nodded absently. He wished it were all behind them, too, wished that the plot were known, the conspirators arrested, so that he could be free. Free to do what? At the moment, he wasn’t certain he knew.

Other acquaintances came up, speaking to him and drawing him away, so that he lost sight of Cecily. Anxiety clawed at him, and he pushed it away. She would be safe enough in this mob. He could relax his vigilance.

“There he is,” Diana said suddenly, and Cecily, seated beside her on a satin-striped sofa and talking to Anthony Carstairs, looked up. Across the room, through the crowd, she saw the man she least wished to see. Edgewater.

She froze. His eyes were fastened on her, and the look in them chilled her. They were cold, implacable, inimical. Alex’s words of warning came back to her, and she thanked God there were enough people about to protect her.

“Don’t you see him?” Diana said, impatiently.

“Yes. I see him.”

“He is so handsome.”

“Something of a peacock, wouldn’t you say?” Mr. Carstairs said. Lately he’d taken to emulating Alex as his ideal.

“Oh, no.” Diana sighed. “He is a man. Oh, look, he’s coming our way!”

“Oh, no.” Cecily began to rise, and her sister’s hand clamped on her arm.

“You can’t go,” she hissed. “It will cause a scene, and you know what Mama said!”

Where was her mother? Cecily glanced around frantically as Edgewater continued to bear down on her. And where, oh where, was St. Clair?

“Good evening, Lady Cecily. Lady Diana, Carstairs.” Edgewater’s voice was smooth and urbane.

Cecily forced herself to look up. “Good evening, sir.” Not by any gesture would she show how much he frightened her.

“You are looking as lovely as usual, Lady Diana. And, Lady Cecily. Your hair is coming down. Also as usual.”

Cecily’s hand flew to her hair, and she forced it down. “How ungallant of you, sir.”

“Is it? But then, you must know I have only your good in mind. Though I wonder now why I bothered to propose to you, when your sister is so much more attractive.”

“You are insulting, sir!” she exclaimed, rising, not caring who noticed. He had touched on a sore spot, and though she cared naught for him, it hurt. “I will not stay here and listen—”

“Ah, but you wouldn’t wish to cause a scene, would you, my dear?” His voice was silken, but his hand caught her arm in an iron grip. “People are staring at us now.”

“Unhand me, sir.”

“Why, Cecily, so unkind? We’ve some things to discuss. Carstairs,” he drawled, “you will entertain Lady Diana, will you not, while Lady Cecily and I take a turn about the room.”

“I’d be delighted to,” Mr. Carstairs said.

“I shouldn’t leave my sister alone, sir,” Cecily said, making one last attempt to save herself.

“But I’m quite all right, Cece. Do go.” Diana’s eyes sparkled. “And perhaps you’ll have news for us?”

“Perhaps she will,” Edgewater said. “Come, ma’am. Let us walk.”

Cecily cast one more despairing glance around the room, and then gave in. His grip on her arm was too strong for her to break free without a struggle. He wouldn’t hurt her, though. How could he, with so many people around?

Leisurely Edgewater pulled her through the crowd, smiling and greeting the people who glanced at them. Later Cecily thought she must have smiled, too, for no one seemed to notice anything amiss. Forevermore, this scene would live in her nightmares: so many people, and none coming to her aid.

“Smile, Cecily,” he said, ice under his urbanity as they reached a window embrasure, affording them the illusion of privacy. “You look frightened.”

“Not at all, sir.” Cecily put up her chin, and he chuckled, an ugly sound.

“Ah, that’s it, Cecily. Fight me. I like that. Because we’ll soon see, won’t we, who is the better of us?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His urbane mask slipped, revealing a face contorted and ugly with anger. “Don’t pretend you don’t know! Think you’re too good for me, don’t you? Well, you’ll learn, my pretty—my not-so-pretty.” He chuckled again. “You don’t like that, do you? But you’re no beauty, Cecily—”

“I know that.”

“—and you really should be grateful to me. Yes, you should,” he went on, at her look of astonishment, “because I took you up when no one else would. You owe me, Cecily.”

“Owe you! You must be mad!”

“Oh, must I? Perhaps. I don’t take such insults lightly, my dear. Breaking our engagement because you believe you’re too good for me—”

“But that’s not why—”

“Don’t talk nonsense. I know what it is. You’re the daughter of the Duke of Marlow and you think you’re too good for me. Everyone thinks they’re too good for me! Well, they’ll soon find out,” he gloated. “Oh, yes. Soon.”

Cecily smiled, for the benefit of those watching. “I am going to return to my sister, sir, and you will let me,” she said, as much steel in her voice as in his. She wouldn’t allow this man to dictate to her. “And we will not cause a scene.”

“Good evening again, Lady Cecily. And Edgewater.” Edgewater’s head jerked up, and his eyes met Alex’s. “Lady Cecily, I believe your mother is looking for you.”

Edgewater loosened his grip on Cecily’s arm, but he didn’t release her. “St. Clair,” he drawled. “You are interrupting us, you know.”

“Really, Edgewater.” Alex sounded equally bored, but his eyes were equally alert. “This is getting to be quite tiresome. Must you continue to bother Lady Cecily?”

“I fail to see that it’s any of your concern.”

“I’m making it my concern,” Alex said, his voice cutting sharply across the other man’s.

“I’ll not have your interference in my affairs, damn you!”

“You have no choice. I won’t allow you.”

Edgewater’s eyelid twitched. “You dare threaten me?”

“I dare do more, if you accost Lady Cecily again.”

“Really, dear boy.” Edgewater crossed his arms on his chest, and grinned at the people who were covertly watching. “She’s not worth it, you know. Fickle, that’s what she is. Wants to have both of us.”

“That’s not true!” Cecily said.

“Of course it’s not,” Alex agreed, but his eyes flickered. Seeing it, Edgewater chuckled.

“You sound as if you don’t quite believe her, dear boy. But then, one never knows whom to trust, haven’t you found?”

“I am warning you, sir.” Alex’s voice was quiet and deadly, and if he’d taken a hit, he didn’t show it. “Leave Lady Cecily in peace, or you will have me to deal with.”

Edgewater’s eyes were hard. “Very well, go. But this isn’t the end of it, St. Clair.”

“On that we both agree,” Alex said. “Come, ma’am. Your mother is this way.”

Cecily grasped his arm and took a deep breath. Now that she was safe, she was almost giddy with relief. “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t know how I was going to get away from him. It seems you always need to rescue me.”

“I wouldn’t if you wouldn’t persist in going with him.”

Cecily stopped short. “Surely you don’t think that was my choice!”

Alex turned. “Oh, of course. In a room crowded with people, you let him drag you about. What else am I to think, but that you wished to be with him?”

“Ooh!” Absurd, angry tears filled her eyes, and she dashed them away, not caring who saw. “You are as hateful as he—”

“Cecily.” His hand caught her arm, his touch infinitely more gentle than Edgewater’s had been. “Forgive me. Of course it wasn’t your choice.”

“No, it certainly wasn’t,” she said, tartly. “I couldn’t break free, and Mama said,” her mouth quirked, “not to cause a scene. Which I imagine I’ve done.”

Alex glanced around, and several people quickly averted their eyes. “I’m afraid so. But let’s not make matters worse. Come.” He took her arm. “What did he want?”

“You were right, he was very angry about the engagement being broken. I should have realized.” She frowned. “I wouldn’t have thought he had such a tendre for me.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Excuse me? How do you know?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” He gave her his thoroughly charming, disarming smile. I don’t think he cares for anyone but himself.”

“No. ‘Self-love is the greatest of all flatterers.’” Cecily looked down, absurdly aware that her curls were mussed, as Edgewater had said, and that, somehow, she’d gotten a spot near the hem of her gown. Why could she not ever look bandbox perfect, as her sister did? “But, sir,” she frowned, “what does he want with me?”

Alex’s smile was abstracted. “‘Ask Cecily Randall,’” he murmured.

“Excuse me? Ask me what?”

Now that was the question, wasn’t it? “Why, to have supper with me, of course. Now that I am a reformed rake.”

“Thoroughly reformed?”

“Alas, I fear so,” he said, giving her that charming smile again, so that she shook her head.

“I doubt that, sir. Very well.” She tucked her arm through his. “Let us go.” And let the gossips think what they might, she thought, with just a touch of defiance.

“What think you of reformed rakes, Cecily?” Alex said, and she turned to face him. In contrast to his light tone of a moment before, his face was serious.

“I think he deserves some kind of reward, sir.”

“Do you.”

“Of course, virtue is said to be its own reward.”

“Vice has its rewards, as well.”

“Now, sir, you no longer sound quite so reformed.”

“No, I don’t, do I?” His gaze softened as he looked down at her. “Do I get to choose my reward, then?”

Cecily’s heart speeded up. “If you like.”

“Indeed. Then I choose—”

“Why, here you are.” Melissa took Cecily’s other arm, smiling brightly, and they looked at her, startled. “Absurd to think anyone could be missed in such a crush, but your mother is looking for you, Cecily.”

“Oh! Then I’d best go to her,” Cecily said.

“And I shall be taking my leave.” Alex bent over Melissa’s hand. “A most interesting evening, Countess. You’ll make my farewells to Chatleigh for me, of course.”

“Of course.” Melissa smiled at him as he sketched a bow, and then turned away. “A charming man,” she said, lightly, taking Cecily’s arm, “and a lonely one, I think.”

“Lonely? But he’s had his choice of women—”

“I know.” Melissa smiled at her guests, who were eyeing them interestedly, scenting something out of the ordinary. “Smile, my dear, they know something’s been happening. Yes, lonely. He had rather a difficult time during the wars.”

Cecily stopped. “But I thought he wasn’t in the war.”

“He didn’t tell you? Oh, dear.” Melissa frowned. “Well, I must leave that to him. You see, he needs someone special. Someone who will care for him, someone he can trust.”

“Why tell me?” Cecily asked, and Melissa gave her such a speaking look that she felt herself color.

“Very well, have it your own way,” Melissa said, smiling. “But I hope to dance at your wedding someday soon. Do come along now, there’s your mother.”

“Of course,” Cecily murmured, her mind far away, barely listening to Melissa’s chatter. What, she wondered, would St. Clair have chosen as his reward?

 

Edgewater lounged down St. James’s, thoughtfully swinging his walking stick from side to side. Last night’s events at the Chatleighs’ had angered him, but now he had himself under control. His sudden attacks of rage, which lately came more recently, bothered him, but not very much. After all, he had every right to be angry at Cecily, even more right to be angry at St. Clair, for daring to interfere. He would have to keep watch on that anger, however, until his task was accomplished. Not much time left, now, and every second was important. Too important for him to jeopardize with an ill-timed burst of rage, and for reasons that were mostly personal. Cecily, he had decided, was not so much of a threat as he had thought, and though he had wanted the cachet of marrying her, there were other ways of achieving it. No, Cecily he could dismiss from his thoughts. St. Clair, however, was another matter.

Still swinging his walking stick, he walked sedately up the stairs of Brooks’s. Handing his stick and hat to the porter, he lounged his way into the reading room, stopping for a moment to glance around through his quizzing glass. Not for him Whites’s, that bastion of Toryism and conservatism; he preferred more spirited company. And, though many of the members here were in opposition to the current government, he expected to find someone who could tell him what he needed to know. Where, for example, St. Clair had spent the years of the war.

Some hours later, after engaging in a hand or two of piquet, and after taking part in several spirited discussions about the offenses of the government, the marquess strolled out again. With his curly-brimmed beaver on his head, his white thorn stick in hand, he was the very picture of the man of leisure. His brow was serene and untroubled, but his brain was working feverishly. St. Clair? several of the people he had spoken to had said. He’d been abroad during the war, everyone knew that. Doing what? Well, that, no one knew, and who cared about the activities of such an obvious loose screw? It wasn’t until near the end of his visit that Edgewater received a nugget of information. St. Clair? said Lord Hartford, dealing a hand of piquet. Hadn’t Wellington mentioned him once? The mention of Wellington’s name brought a turn in the conversation; there were still those in this highly Whig establishment who didn’t support the hero of Waterloo. It also made Edgewater go very, very still. “Why,” he asked carefully, when the hubbub had died down, “would Wellington have mentioned St. Clair?”

Hartford shrugged. “Heard he said something about him in one of his dispatches,” he said, discarding a card. “Something about the war couldn’t have been won without the work of men like him. Now, shall we play?”

“Of course,” Edgewater said after a moment, looking at his cards without seeing them. A spy. St. Clair had been a spy. That was the only explanation for Wellington’s message. What was he now, if he’d been a spy then?

Edgewater played the hand badly, and lost badly. He was cheerful as he settled up, tossing some notes on the table and rising to take his leave, but his smile faded as he left the room. St. Clair was a spy. That could very well mean that his plot, his very future, were in danger.

Now, walking again down St. James’s, he considered what to do. He knew how to deal with spies; had he not dealt with the Cockney who had infiltrated the conspiracy? St. Clair was different, however. He was a peer of the realm. Moreover, he seemed somehow to be connected to Marlow—

Edgewater stopped. Of course. That was it. Cecily had told. The little jade had told what she knew, damn her, and if she didn’t realize its significance, St. Clair probably did.

The rage rose within him, and he fought to master it. Now was no time to lose his head. “Damn,” he muttered, and walked on again. St. Clair was more of a danger than he’d realized. Once a spy, always a spy, and now his target was Edgewater.

But he wouldn’t win, Edgewater thought, with a chilling smile. Oh, no. St. Clair had met his match. He’d deal with him, Edgewater vowed, and soon, and then he would have all the power and position he craved, that he deserved. And St. Clair, he thought with growing satisfaction, would be dead.