A Husband's Wicked Ways (33 page)

Oh, it was all too vexing and complex to think about. For the moment, she had to concentrate on Don Antonio Vasquez.

She walked into the salon, all smiles, hand outstretched. “I’m so sorry our time together was curtailed yesterday, Don Antonio, but Princess Prokov’s visit was a surprise, and she is a particular friend of mine.”

“Oh, I quite understand, ma’am.” He kissed her hand. “And I find myself the beneficiary. I have received an invitation to Lady Bonham’s ball, and I’m here in
the hopes that I may claim your hand for the quadrille.”

Nick Petersham had already claimed that dance. But he would accept an alternative with his usual easy grace.
“I should be delighted, Don Antonio. It’s one of my favorite dances.”

“One of mine also.” His black eyes met her brown ones, but, as always, there was nothing behind the gaze. It was as blank as Franny’s virgin schoolroom slate. “I was also hoping to persuade you to accompany me on a drive to the Botanical Gardens at Kew. They are quite lovely at this time of year, I’m told.”

“I’m afraid I cannot this morning, Don Antonio. My daughter is unwell and she frets herself into a fever if I leave the house. But as soon as she’s better, I should look forward to such an excursion.”

If he was put out by her refusal, he gave no sign of it. He bowed and said with a flickering smile, “Of course, your daughter’s well-being must take precedence over my selfish desires. I do trust it’s nothing serious. Have you summoned the physician?”

He managed to make his concern sound almost sincere, Aurelia thought, as she responded lightly, “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s no more than a slight head cold. But thank you for your concern, sir.”

“One cannot be too careful with children.” That slide of the knife’s edge was there again.

Aurelia fought down a surge of nausea. She was just imagining the hint of menace. It was hardly surprising in her present heightened anxiety.

“I’ll take my leave, ma’am.” He bowed over her hand and continued to hold it in a warm, dry clasp. His voice oozed sympathy. “I won’t keep you from your daughter any longer. But you should take the air yourself for a few minutes every day, you know. You must not catch the infection. Maybe tomorrow you will agree to walk with me, no further than the square garden, if you wish.”

“You are very considerate, Don Antonio,” she managed with what she hoped was a sincere smile. “A brief stroll tomorrow afternoon would be delightful.”

“Then I shall call for you at two o’clock.” He raised her hand to his lips again, then left her.

Greville was just entering the hall as Don Antonio emerged from the drawing room. “Good morning, Don Antonio.” Greville tossed his high-crowned beaver hat onto the hall table and placed his slender cane beside it, before drawing off his gloves. “You’ve been visiting my wife, I take it.”

The Spaniard’s black eyes narrowed a little as he said, “I trust you have no objections, sir?”

“Not a one,” Greville said airily. “My wife is free to choose her friends as she pleases.”

“But not to ride in Richmond Park with them, I understand.”

“No. Lady Falconer is a nervous horsewoman and I would trust no one’s hand but my own on her bridle.”

“Very commendable, Sir Greville.” Don Antonio’s lips moved in the semblance of a smile. “I trust you’ll have no objections to my dancing with her at Lady Bonham’s ball on Saturday.”

“Oh, not in the least. My wife is as free to choose her dance partners as she is her friends.” Greville moved back to open the front door for his departing guest. “I look forward to seeing you there, Don Antonio.”

The Spaniard bowed his agreement and left. Greville closed the door behind him and stood frowning for a moment, then strolled into the drawing room.

“I didn’t realize Don Antonio was acquainted with the Bonhams,” he said, going to the decanters on the sideboard. “Wine?”

Aurelia barely repressed a shudder. “No…no, thank you. He was here yesterday when Nell and Liv paid a call. Nell invited him to the ball on the spot. She seemed to think that as he was a friend of mine, she should do so.” Aurelia shrugged. “I didn’t see the need myself, but it can’t do any harm.”

“Quite the opposite,” Greville said, pouring claret into a glass. “How’s Franny?”

“Miserable, snuffling, and making the most of it,” Aurelia said with a light laugh. “I should go back to her.”

She moved to the door, then paused as Greville laid a hand on her arm. “Maybe I’m imagining things, Aurelia, but I think something’s not quite right with you.” He looked closely into her eyes.

“Of course there’s nothing the matter,” she denied,
but felt her eyes slipping away from his. “I’m perfectly well.” She shrugged a little. “I don’t deny I find this business with Don Antonio exhausting. When I’m with him, I can’t relax for a second, and it makes my body ache.” She tried to laugh it off, but knew she hadn’t succeeded. His dark eyes seemed to penetrate her skull.

“Maybe you need a tonic. Your appetite was never much to speak of, but it seems nonexistent these days. And I don’t like those black shadows under your eyes.”

“Then bring this business to a speedy close, Greville,” she said, much more sharply than she’d intended. “I must go to Franny.” She moved away from his hand and headed for the door.

Greville swore softly. He hadn’t really considered the toll this mission would take on her. In many ways it was harder to play a part in a setting that was utterly familiar than it was to tackle a straightforward mission, however dangerous it might be. What Aurelia was doing was not in and of itself dangerous, but the strain of maintaining a charade every minute she was in company was not to be taken lightly.

It was not for much longer, though. Vasquez would soon make a move. Once he did, he would find his quarry ready and waiting for him. The biter bit. Greville could end it all quickly with a preemptive strike. A simple assassination. But he prided himself on his finesse. He was fairly certain El Demonio had more than one string to his bow on this visit to London; other people
would be involved in setting up an intelligence network. For a while at least Greville would let the line pay out and see what else it caught. But once it was over, he would take Aurelia away for a few weeks. Somewhere in the country, where she could recover the bloom on her cheeks and the glow in her eyes.

Until the next mission that would bring it all to an end.

“H
OW’S
F
RANNY THIS EVENING
?” Greville, in his shirtsleeves, stood in the doorway between his bedchamber and his wife’s, inserting a diamond pin into the snowy folds of his cravat on Saturday evening.

Aurelia was sitting at the dresser, a light peignoir protecting the white silk underdress as Hester dressed her hair. The black spider gauze overgown was draped carefully over the arm of the daybed.

Aurelia turned slightly from the mirror to look at him. “She’s quite better,” she said with a laugh, “but she’s still milking it. Even although she’s been fit as a fiddle for the last three days, she’s convinced that a carefully executed cough, and now and again a strategic sneeze, will persuade Daisy to bring her anything she asks for.” Aurelia cocked her head slightly. “You do look very handsome, sir.”

“I have many qualities, my dear, but handsome is not one of them. Is this pin straight?”

She got up from the dresser and went over to him,
saying severely, “False modesty is
not
an attractive quality.” Her fingers deftly adjusted the pin.

He caught her wrist as she moved away from him, turning it up to kiss the soft, white, blue-veined underside. “Are you sure you’re quite well, Aurelia?”

“Of course. Never better. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” he said, still holding her wrist. “But I do know when I’m not hearing the truth.” He pulled her in towards him, placing his hands on her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the thin silk. “You’re looking sadly fagged, my dear. After tonight, I’m resolved to send you and Franny into the country, to Mary Masham, for a couple of weeks. You both need some country air.”

“Greville, you cannot
send
me anywhere. I am very well able to decide for myself what I need and when I need it. And I am certainly the only person qualified to make such decisions for Franny.”

Greville ran his thumb over her eyelids, thinking that sending her away was the last thing he wanted to do. They had all too little time left. “Will you go if I promise to come down now and again?”

She smiled a little. “That might make a difference, certainly. You realize you haven’t solicited a single dance with me this evening?”

He looked startled. “I didn’t realize it was necessary.”

She laughed. “My dance card is quite full, but I anticipated your forgetfulness and saved a country dance.”

“Only one?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I rather thought you’d find one more than sufficient. Besides, I need to leave enough opportunity for Don Antonio.”

“Yes, I suppose you do.” A shadow crossed his eyes.

“We are always working, as you once said,” she reminded him softly.

“Yes, and sometimes it’s a damnable nuisance.” He turned back to his own room.

Aurelia sat down at the dresser mirror again while Hester worked her usual miracles with the curling iron. Aurelia had never once heard Greville refer to his work in such terms. He lived for his work, breathed it in with every breath he took. But just then he’d really sounded as if he wished it to the devil.

“Are you ready for the gown, m’lady?” Hester lifted the black gauzy cloud reverently. “If I drop it over your head, it won’t disturb your coiffure.”

Aurelia put aside the puzzle for the moment. She shrugged off the peignoir and lifted her arms so that the gown seemed to float over her head and arms to settle smoothly against the close-fitting white silk sheath beneath.

“Lawks a mercy, m’lady, don’t you look a treat,” Hester breathed.

“She does, indeed, Hester,” Greville said from the doorway. He was dressed himself now in a black tailcoat and pantaloons strapped over black slippers. “Quite stunning.” He crossed the carpet towards Aurelia and brought
his hands out from behind his back. “Will you wear this in your hair tonight?”

Aurelia gazed at the half circle of diamonds embedded in a stiffened band of black velvet. It was simple, elegant, and utterly beautiful. “Oh, yes,” she said softly, raising her eyes to his. “How perfect it is.”

She saw in his eyes something she had never been certain she had seen before. Sometimes a hint, but never this absolute, naked emotion. Greville loved her. He might not be ready to acknowledge it yet himself, but she knew, and the knowledge warmed her soul, filled her with a deep elation. Her hand brushed fleetingly over her belly as she sat down at the mirror again.

“Let me fasten it, m’lady,” Hester urged, taking the adornment from Greville. “Just a pin here…and another here…and it’ll sit tight for hours.” She suited action to words, then stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Greville had indeed chosen perfectly. The black velvet against her pale hair, the diamonds sparkling against the black, the half-moon shape that was not quite a tiara and not quite a simple headband, suited Aurelia’s understated style as nothing else could.

“Thank you,” she said, raising her face for his kiss. He leaned over and brushed her lips with his before kissing her bare shoulder.

“Nothing has ever given me more pleasure,” he murmured.

Aurelia touched his face lightly with her fingertips,
then rose. “I promised to visit Franny before we left. She wants to see my gown.”

“Then let us present ourselves, my lady.” He offered his arm with a ceremonial bow.

Franny was sitting up in bed when they entered the nursery. Her eyes widened. “You look like a princess, Mama. Is that diamonds in your hair?”

“Yes, they were a present,” Aurelia said, bending to kiss her daughter.

Franny looked at Greville with wide eyes. “From you?”

“Yes, from me.” Greville smiled.

“Mama looks like a princess and you look like a prince,” Franny said, magnanimously expanding the compliment.

“Well, thank you, Franny,” he said solemnly. “I fear I will never outshine your mother, but I hope to provide an escort of which she needn’t be ashamed.”

The little girl frowned at him. “Why would she be ’shamed?”

“Oh, he was only teasing, darling,” her mother said swiftly. “We’re going to Aunt Nell’s for dinner and—”

“An’ then to the ball,” Franny interrupted. “I know. I wish I could go.”

“My darling, you will be going to balls sooner than I want to imagine,” Aurelia said with a soft smile. “Ten years goes very quickly.”

Franny’s expression implied only disbelief. “Ten years is a…a eternity.”

Aurelia laughed and kissed her again. “Good night,
love, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” She tucked up the child as Franny snuggled under the covers.

“Have a nice time,” Franny murmured sleepily as they left the nursery. “Wish I could go.”

“An indomitable child,” Greville said as they trod softly down the nursery stairs. “Some innocent youngster out there is going to fall in love with her in ten years’ time, and God help him.”

Aurelia chuckled. “She’s not without compassion. And I have ten years in which to nurture the seeds.”

Don Antonio Vasquez examined his reflection in the long mirror in his bedchamber. His shirt and waistcoat were a brilliant white. His coat and knee britches of black velvet. A square ruby nestled in the folds of his cravat, and another glowed on his signet finger. His spade beard was trimmed and combed, his hair curled and lustrous with pomade. He slipped a hand back beneath his coat and felt the slim, cool hilt of the dagger in its leather sheath nestled against the small of his back. Easy to reach, impossible to detect. Everything as it should be.

He went to the dresser and opened a drawer. He slid the small, pearl-handled pistol it contained into the pocket of his coat, feeling its light shape against his thigh. He didn’t like firearms, knives were his weapons of choice, but a pistol was a useful persuader in certain
circumstances, and he was taking no chances tonight.

He left the bedchamber and went into the sitting room where Miguel and Carlos both awaited him, standing rather awkwardly in front of the empty fireplace. “The carriage is waiting below, sir,” Carlos said. He was dressed like a hired coachman in leather britches and jerkin, a muffler twisted around his neck. He wore jackboots, each of which concealed a knife.

“Good. Miguel, you know what you have to do?”

Miguel nodded. “Of course, Don Antonio.” He wore the plain dark coat and britches of an upper manservant, top boots and a bicorn hat. He took out a small case from the pocket of his coat and flipped it open, revealing four delicate tools. “These will take care of part of the business, sir.” He dropped the case back into his pocket, then, with a grim smile, flicked back one wide sleeve of his coat and with a deft twitch of his fingers extracted a slender dagger taped to his wrist. “And this the rest. I am ready, sir.”

“So I see,” his master said drily. “I trust there will be no need for your armory, but one must be prepared.” He picked up his silver-mounted cane from the table by the door and pressed a little catch. The cane became a wickedly sharp blade, its edge glinting in the candlelight. He pressed the catch again and returned the blade to its concealment.

The clock struck ten and the three of them waited out the chimes before moving together to the door. Don Antonio swung a black silk evening cloak around his
shoulders as he went lightly down the stairs to the street, where a young boy stood at the heads of a pair of horses in the traces of a plain hired coach.

“You’ve put them through their paces?” Antonio asked.

“
Sí,
Don Antonio. They’re fleet. On a clear road they’ll give us all the speed we need.” Carlos tossed the boy a coin and climbed onto the box, taking the reins.

Miguel held the door for Don Antonio and followed him into the carriage, pulling the door closed behind them. He sat silently in a corner, knowing that when his master was preparing to work, he would brook no distractions. The carriage covered the short distance to Mount Street in ten minutes, and the horses drew up outside the Bonhams’ house, blazing with light. Linkboys stood on the carpeted flagway ready to direct the carriages and light the guests up the steps and into the house.

Don Antonio stepped down to the street, his cloak swirling about him. He glanced back once at the carriage but said nothing. Miguel had his orders. Don Antonio strode up the steps and into the music-filled, brilliantly lit interior.

Cornelia stood beside her husband at the head of the stairs. The double doors to the ballroom stood open behind them, and the strains of the orchestra rose above the buzz of conversation. Jugs of scarlet tulips interspersed
with black stood on every surface, and the candelabra were ablaze with silver candles. The guests were a whirl of black, silver, and scarlet, the gentlemen to a man in black and white, their ladies a complementary bouquet of scarlet and silver, with the occasional touch of black.

“It worked,” Cornelia said in a breathless whisper, her cheeks flushed with success, her blue eyes bright as gemstones. “Isn’t it magnificent, Harry?”

“A triumph, my love,” he said with an affectionate chuckle. “I would never have believed when I first met you that you would garner so much pleasure from creating a society success.”

“It was enormous fun to plan,” she murmured half-defensively. “And it doesn’t hurt once in a while to indulge in pure frivolity.”

“Indeed it doesn’t,” he agreed, moving forward to greet the grande dame billowing up the staircase with a trailing swirl of damask train and cashmere shawls, an elderly lady puffing in her wake as she struggled to contain the spilling folds of material.

“Your grace.” Harry bowed over his great-aunt’s hand and kissed it, before easing her gently up beside him. He turned with a warm smile to greet the duchess’s companion. “Miss Cox…Eliza. Thank you for bringing her grace.”

Eliza Cox blushed and fluttered and disclaimed any part in her employer’s presence. The Duchess of Gracechurch for her part stated, “Stuff and nonsense, Eliza had nothing to do with it. I wanted to see this
flummery for myself.” She raised her lorgnette and surveyed her hostess. “Very dramatic, Cornelia.” She didn’t sound as if it was a compliment.

Cornelia was far too accustomed to the duchess’s manner to be in the least put out. She laughed and took her grace’s hand. “Thank you for coming, ma’am. It would not have been the same without you. And I know how you don’t care to go out much in the evening.”

The duchess snorted and looked around her. “Well, I shan’t stay long. Come, Eliza, let us see who else is indulging in this foolery.” The duchess swept away, her companion, with an apologetic glance at her hosts, hastily following her.

“Well, that crowns your success, Nell,” Harry said. “I really didn’t think she would make the effort.”

“Nell…” Aurelia emerged from the ballroom, laughing. “The duchess is actually wearing black and white…what a compliment. How on earth did you persuade her?”

“I didn’t,” Cornelia said, glancing at her husband. “But I suspect Harry had a hand in it. You know he can get his great-aunt to do anything if he puts his mind to it.”

“Not so.” Harry threw up his hands in disclaimer. “No one, but no one, can move that woman if she’s unwilling.”

Cornelia shook her head with a smile and turned back to the stairs, where a new arrival had made his appearance. “Don Antonio…thank you so much for coming.”

The Spaniard bowed over her hand with a courtly flourish. “I was honored to receive your invitation, Lady Bonham…Lord Bonham.” He bowed to his host and looked around. “The colors…what a charming concept, Lady Bonham. And black tulips…such a rarity.”

“Yes, indeed, sir,” Cornelia said. “I am fortunate in having a friend who seems to be able to conjure such rarities out of thin air.”

Don Antonio gave a faint smile and turned slightly to where Aurelia still stood just behind Harry. “My dear Lady Falconer. How charming you look. Such a magnificent contrast.”

“Thank you, Don Antonio.” She responded to the compliment with a smile that was suddenly effortful. “Have you come to claim your dance?”