Wherein the Outcome of the Ducal Wedding Is Endangered
The Earl and Countess of Alleyneham were in the habit of attending early services every Sunday. Audrina hoped they would not break their routine simply because one of their daughters was to be married the following day.
On the last day of 1820, then, she sneaked into her family’s London home like a burglar. And maybe she was one, at that. She was stealing a space in this house—or rather, stealing it back.
Once settled into the Egyptian parlor, that fashionable horror so beloved by her mother, there was nothing to do but wait. Armored in gold brocade, she occupied herself by writing a few notes at the black-lacquer desk footed with Sphinx heads. To Sophy and Millicent, to give them the belated news of Kitty’s puzzle box. To Lord and Lady Dudley. To Kitty and her Daniel. Even to the Booths, a thanks for their hospitality. All the members of the ragtag family that had collected: an eddy of people, swirled together by mysterious currents, before the tides of time and distance broke them apart again.
As she was sealing the last letter, she heard the sounds of her family’s return. First the carriage door, then the front door and the butler’s smooth greeting. Her mother’s scattered speech, audible only as a pattern of sound, and then a great growl from her father.
Ah. He must have learned of Audrina’s presence.
She had only time to straighten her notes and stand before the earl burst into the room. His square face was a ruddy brick of temper, his hair a wild white halo. “You have dared to return. I should have expected this. Is it”—his voice remained low and calm with apparent effort—“too much to hope that you are properly betrothed?”
Audrina waggled her ringless hands at him.
There was a delightful power in not needing anything of him. Oh, she would rather have his approval than not. But she didn’t need it. “I returned, Father, because I want to attend my sister’s wedding.”
“Disobedience!”
“No. Love.”
The earl grew still more red, so she added, “I do realize that my behavior reflects on you, as the man in whose household I was raised. But the behavior for which you have faulted me was not mine.”
She had done many things for which he might have faulted her, had he known. But he didn’t need to know the windings of her heart. He had already decided: Your departure and your guilt are the same.
Her anger flared to match his own. “Besides faulting me for the harm someone else caused, do you realize what else you did? You abandoned me. You left me in York, when I wanted only to come back to London. You traveled home with a man who had carried me off against my will. You chose him over me. You chose reputation—appearance—over the well-being of your own daughter.”
As she spoke, his mouth made a hard, flat line; his eyes and brows were the color of cold metal. There was no breaking through. The heat of her anger might as well dash against a stone.
A stone could not grow or change. It could not become anything else; it was stuck. Her flood of anger began to ebb, and she lifted her chin.
“You abandoned me, Papa,” she said again in a clear voice. “And now I am glad for that. I made the best of it—more than the best—and now I know two important things. I know what I am capable of, and I know the limits of your heart.”
The earl had left behind his cane, and now he seemed not to know what to do with his hands. He folded his arms, opened his mouth—then closed it again, picking up a carved jet statue of a jackal from a marble-topped side table. “I . . .”
In the painful silence, a servant tapped at the door and announced a caller. “A Mr. David Llewellyn to see you both.”
Audrina and her father made identical sounds of disgust. Llewellyn and her father at once? This was more than Audrina had been prepared to take on, and her strength quailed.
No. She was capable of this. She was awake, alert, and in possession of all her faculties. She could also lay hands on a penknife, if it came to that.
Not that it would. Llewellyn was a bully, and bullies were cowards.
Before the unwelcome caller was shown up, the earl seated himself in the room’s largest, most forbidding chair. “Keep silent, daughter, and leave this to me.”
“If that seems wisest, I will.” Audrina sat again in the writing desk’s chair. “But the last time I kept silent and left matters to you, you gave in to fear and I was the one sacrificed. I shall not be treated that way again.” The hard wooden back of the chair lent her strength, and she added, “By the way, my lady’s maid should be let go without a reference, if you have not already seen to that.”
“Because?”
Did it matter so little to him? “Because she allowed Llewellyn to bribe her and drug me, then abduct me. Surely that is reason enough.”
Then confusion knit her brow. Someone else must have sent the garter from York before Christmas. Llewellyn himself? She did not know when he had returned to London. “Father, did Llewellyn stay with you all the way back to—”
“Ah, what a pleasure. What a pleasure.” The familiar angular face of David Llewellyn beamed at them from the doorway. Cursed man. He was impeccable in wool and velvet, silk and linen, glossy boots and pomaded hair.
She wished quite desperately for a different man to enter: one with short-cropped red hair and battered boots. Not that Giles had any reason to call upon her, or ever see her again.
“The pleasure is all yours, Llewellyn,” Audrina said crisply. “Do sit. Let us get this over with quickly.”
The earl cleared his throat.
“Have you something to say, Papa? Please do. Or do you simply require tea? I should be glad to ring for some to be brought to you. Not to Mr. Llewellyn, though, since he cannot possibly be here on a social call.” She realized she was almost enjoying herself. Both men were goggling at her; she could not tell which of them was more surprised by her speech.
Good. Let them feel off balance for once. They deserved that, and far more.
The earl was the first to recover. He turned to Llewellyn, who was now seated on a bench with figural ebony legs, a seat that Audrina knew to be most uncomfortable. “You’re here to settle up, aren’t you, pup? Let’s have the garter and then we’ll talk.”
Llewellyn recovered his fanged smile in an instant. “Talk is exactly what I’m here to do, my lord. There will be no need for negotiation. You see, I spoke to the Duke of Walpole about this unfortunate situation yesterday.”
The earl fist’s convulsed on the arms of his chair. “You foul little cheat!”
For once, Audrina agreed unreservedly with every word her father said.
Examining his fingernails with a careless air, Llewellyn tossed back, “Come, now. Would an extra day have made any difference? You never intended to turn over a penny to me. I had to look after myself.”
Through gritted teeth, Audrina ground out, “I am the one who decides what I am worth. You had no right to set a price on me. I did no more than you to be ashamed of—and in fact, much less. I would never force someone to do anything against his or her will. Why should my family be punished and you rewarded?”
He chuckled. “Naïveté doesn’t suit you, my little apple tart. We both know men rule society and men make the rules.”
“Make the rules, yes,” she said. “But women enforce them. Lady Irving will stand at my side. I hope that my sister will, too.”
She could not take for granted Charissa’s help, since her elder sister had so much to lose. Her own reputation; her much-longed-for marriage. The completely conditional good opinion of their parents. Audrina did not know whether Charissa would judge this too much to risk, but she herself thought it too much to ask.
“How should a man be judged if he is looking out for himself?” A low voice rang out from the doorway of the parlor.
“Walpole!” Lord Alleyneham hoisted himself to his feet.
Audrina rose and bobbed a fractured curtsy. “Your Grace, I did not realize you had arrived.”
“And would such knowledge have changed what you said?”
Audrina searched the severe features for leniency. “No, I suppose not. Though for my sister’s sake, I could wish that I had not mentioned her.”
“As a matter of fact, I have just spoken with her and your mother. I have had Lady Charissa’s opinion of you from her own lips.” By all rights, he should have handed off his ivory-headed cane when he’d entered the house, but Audrina had noticed he liked to keep it with him. At the moment, it advanced ahead of him across the room—rather like a knight carrying a lance, ready to joust at any moment. “Imagine my displeasure when I learned that Mr. Llewellyn possessed your personal belonging.”
“I did not give it to him, Your Grace.”
Llewellyn snorted.
Audrina pressed her lips tight; held her chin high. There was really nothing more to be said than that. If appearance was all that mattered to the duke, as with her father, she was just as guilty despite—in this matter—her innocence.
“It does not matter if you did.” Closer and closer, the duke advanced. When Audrina dared look away at Llewellyn, a sly smile was beginning to cross his features.
Until the duke spoke again. “It would be just as wrong for him to betray a trust as it was for him to fabricate a scandal.”
“I assure you, it was not fabricated, Your Grace.” Llewellyn made an unctuous bow.
Audrina’s face went hot.
“Was it not?” The duke lifted his brows. “It was Lady Audrina’s idea, then, to hare off to the northern wilds and miss Christmas with her sister? Don’t answer, Llewellyn. I should like the lady’s reply.”
She had an odd sense of unreality. Was the duke toying with her? With them all? “No, Your Grace. It was not my idea.”
“I asked a question earlier”—the duke swung his cane gently—“which neither of you gentlemen has answered. But perhaps I caught you by surprise. I shall ask again. How should a man be judged if he looks out for himself?”
When only silence followed, the duke thumped the end of the cane on the floor. “Not certain? I shall be more specific. What if this man looks out for himself at the expense of others who have less power than he? My belief is that he is unworthy of the name of gentleman, but perhaps you have a different reply.”
Disbelief and delight warred in Audrina, making her unsteady. She cast back a hand, supporting herself on the smooth edge of the lacquered desk. “I think that an excellent answer, Your Grace.”
“And you, Lord Alleyneham?” The duke was all calm curiosity.
“Er…I agree, naturally. Of course.” The earl’s face had gone a mottled red again.
“Very good. Lady Charissa, I might mention, also agrees. There remains only to solicit your opinion, Mr. Llewellyn. And it is?”
Llewellyn froze, clearly torn between bone-deep respect for the aristocracy and an even deeper desire to salvage some profit from the situation. “One must think of the scandal, Your Grace. A scandal can never be desirable.”
“The scandal of canceling a wedding would be as nothing compared to the scandal of marrying into a family of whom I do not approve, I grant you that. However, I do not have to admire and adore everyone in this family. Only my future wife.” Walpole fixed his gaze slightly above their heads. In a bored tone, he said, “I wonder why people are so certain that my mind can be easily swayed by personal revelations. Let me offer one of my own: I love Lady Charissa Bradleigh.”
“Your Grace!” Audrina and Llewellyn both gasped at once, though no doubt for entirely different reasons.
The duke shook his head. “All of you forgot to account for that fact. I want to marry her. What could stop us, save her own disinclination?”
A laugh bubbled up from Audrina’s chest. “That, Your Grace, you need not worry about.”
“So she assures me.” For a flicker, the distant eyes met Audrina’s. “She sees the best in me. It is a lovely characteristic. I wish to live up to her vision.”
What was there to do but curtsy again? And grin. And—just a little, let her heart throb with a wish that someone would say the same of her.
But she and Giles saw each other too clearly for that—or maybe it would be more accurate to say that they each judged themselves too harshly..
The duke granted Audrina a sliver of a smile. “As we are to be brother and sister, Lady Audrina, I do wish you might call me Walpole.”
Again he addressed Llewellyn. “Now, do you have Lady Audrina’s item with you, or shall I accompany you to your lodging to retrieve it? I am most reluctant that you should benefit financially.”
“I do not have the item of which you speak. It is being held by an associate.”
“An associate?” The earl’s tongue unlocked. “What associate? Damn it, man, this has gone on long enough.”
Flip flip flip: The pieces came together in Audrina’s head, neatly as one paper spill being wound around another. Llewellyn had told her in York that he did not have the garters—and one was sent from York upon their return from Castle Parr. There was every chance, then, that someone in the party had been bribed. And knowing Llewellyn’s way with servants and a pocket full of silver . . .
“It must be Jory, Father,” Audrina realized. “The footman. Your footman. He and Llewellyn must have worked this whole plan out ahead of time.” Her nails bit into her palm. If a fierce expression could wound, Llewellyn would have been in mortal peril from several directions at once.
What is a person worth? A question that should be asked about everyone. Not only the spotless, not only nobles. Jory had been sent racing to York as though he were property. Yes, he was paid to do his work, but how had he been treated in the course of that work? Was it so unthinkable that he would avail himself of good fortune when the chance arose?
Guilt cast a shadow over her indignation.
“Is this true? Your accomplice was my own footman?” Lord Alleyneham asked of Llewellyn, whose hesitation was confirmation enough. “Jory will be relieved of his position at once. And I shall see to it that he—”
“Papa, let us leave it at that.”
Her maid and Jory had taken payment to help with Llewellyn’s crime. This spoke to their character; it was their choice and their fault.
But it did not speak well for the household that two of the servants had been so readily bought. They could not be happy; they certainly were not fond. When this mad assortment of callers had departed, Audrina would find out how the servants were treated and how long it had been since their last rise in pay.
“What should we do with Llewellyn, then?” The earl’s question, miracle of miracles, was directed at Audrina as well as the duke.
“Invite him to the wedding, perhaps?” The duke gave the head of his walking stick a neat spin.
Audrina considered this startling idea. “His attendance would indicate that our family was on proper and correct terms with him. That might be an effective way to keep his repulsive schemes a secret.”
“Indeed, Lady Audrina,” the duke agreed. “And I do not think it a bad thing for him to be reminded of the massed power of our family associations. London society is a closely knit world, and I should be distressed to learn that he chose to prey upon the reputation of another female. Perhaps after the wedding he would care to visit the Continent for an extended time.”
“I am right here,” insisted Llewellyn with commendable poise. “And I ought to be consulted in—”
“No, you ought to be jailed.” Thump went Walpole’s walking stick again. “Consider yourself fortunate if you are not. Now if you will all excuse me, I have a great many details to attend to. I shall see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
As the duke made her a bow of farewell, Audrina told him, “I count myself fortunate to have such a brother-in-law as you, Your Grace.”
“Walpole,” he reminded her with a hint of a smile. When he reached the doorway, he snapped his fingers. “There is one small detail—or rather two—that I neglected to mention. Our fascinating chat about the Continent reminded me.”
Llewellyn made a strangled sound.
“Alleyneham,” continued the duke, “I arranged some weeks ago for your fourth daughter to travel from Italy to attend the wedding. I do hope she will arrive today. Please give her my fondest regards. You see, all of Lady Charissa’s relatives are welcome at the occasion of our marriage. They may choose to come or to stay away, but none shall I revise out of her story.”
And with a final flourish of his cane, he was gone.
Sinking back into her chair, Audrina released a deep breath. “Well.”
“Good Lord,” added her father.
There really didn’t seem to be anything more to say than that. Except: “Nicely done, Charissa,” she murmured. She had underestimated the duke. She should have credited her sister’s generous nature with an equal amount of good sense. Charissa would never fall in love with a cruel man or a fool.
Llewellyn bounced up from the wooden bench on which he’d crumpled. “I’ll just be going, then, shall I, and . . .”
“Get my garter,” said Audrina. “Go get it from Jory and bring it to me. Now.”
He was gone so quickly, he did not even close the door behind him.
There was no question in her mind that he would obey. On her own, her wishes had been easy for him to dismiss, but she was not on her own anymore. She had a family. Still. Somehow.
Gratitude, golden as a puzzle box, welled up within her.
“I am sorry you have been through so much trouble, Papa.”
“You have been troublesome, I’ll not deny it. But now that all’s done, I’m not sorry myself.”
A wry smile curved her lips. She had not intended an apology for her own actions, yet he had somehow heard her express fault. Oh, her stern father; he was entrenched in his own rarefied world.
“I want my daughters to have good lives.” His words were halting.
“I know, Papa.” For indeed she did.
Oh, by this he meant I want you all to have lives that reflect well on me and your mother. What parent would not? His limitation was in the fact that he was not able to see beyond this. To imagine that a good life might be . . . different.
Ah, that golden gratitude. It was beautiful, but it was not complete. There was a piece missing precisely the size and shape of Giles Rutherford.
“I have some letters to send, Papa.” Audrina stacked up the notes she had penned earlier. “Would you give them a frank?” This would keep the recipients from having to pay postage.
“Hmm? Oh—yes. Certainly. Put them on my study desk.” The earl looked like a tired old lion, hands steepled and head bowed.
A knock sounded at the front door, a story below the front-facing parlor. “The duke again?” Audrina wondered. Giles?
When the door opened, a murmur of voices succeeded—and then Lady Alleyneham’s cry of delight, so loud it traveled up the stairs. “Petra! Oh, my dear! My darling Petra!” And then a long silence, followed by: “You have brought. . . a baby?”
Audrina and her father locked shocked gazes.
“A baby.” Her voice was a croak. “There’s that second detail the duke said he’d neglected to mention.”