A Husband's Wicked Ways (5 page)

Franny scampered off and Aurelia shook her head with a resigned smile. “She never stops talking.”

“She’s a bright little thing,” Harry responded with a chuckle, turning to his butler, who stood waiting to be noticed. “Hector, is Lady Bonham down yet?”

“Yes, of course I am.” Cornelia’s light tones sounded on the stairs. She descended with a quick step, both hands extended to her husband. “Oh, you poor dear. You look exhausted. Have you slept at all since you left three days ago?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, taking her hands in his and kissing her mouth. “You look as fresh as a daisy, wife of mine, and I am rank and as prickly as a cactus.” He passed a hand over his stubbly chin. “I’m going to make myself presentable and leave you to enjoy Aurelia’s company.” He stepped aside to reveal Aurelia, who’d been standing quietly behind him, waiting for the couple to complete their greeting.

“Ellie, how lovely!” Cornelia exclaimed. “What brings you here so early?”

“I thought I’d bring Franny myself this morning…I felt like an early walk,” Aurelia said. “But I’ve no need to stay. I don’t want to intrude.”

“As if you ever could,” Cornelia scoffed. “Harry is going upstairs to repair himself and he’ll probably sleep until this afternoon. So let’s go and have coffee in the morning room. Have you had breakfast?” She linked arms with Aurelia and urged her towards the morning room.

Aurelia went willingly enough, but she was beginning to question the wisdom of this impulsive visit so soon after yesterday’s revelations. The urge to pour out to her friend what was uppermost in her mind threatened to become irresistible, and she
must
resist it. She could think of little else and was afraid that Cornelia would sense her distraction immediately.

But fortunately Cornelia had her own preoccupations that morning. She poured coffee for them both before sinking gracefully onto a chaise. “What do you think of a black-and-white theme, Ellie?”

Aurelia blinked at this seeming non sequitur. “For what?”

“The ball, of course.” Cornelia looked astonished that anyone could have forgotten this issue that occupied most of her waking hours at present.

“Oh, of course.” Aurelia sipped her coffee and tried to give the question her full attention. “You mean the decor, or must the guests comply with the color code, too?”

“I thought it might make it a little more interesting. Everyone gets so tired of the endless round of balls and galas, something a little different might be appreciated.”

“Absolutely,” Aurelia agreed. “And after the success of your gala last April, you’ve a lot to live up to.” She regarded her friend with a gleam in her eyes. “I believe you intend to stun the ton with a
squeeze
every year, Nell.”

A faint pink blossomed on her friend’s fashionably pale cheeks as she laughingly confessed, “I may have had some such idea. And it makes it all the more necessary to do something different this time, Ellie, otherwise everyone will say I’ve lost my touch.”

“More power to you, love,” Aurelia said warmly. “When’s the date to be exactly?”

“I wanted to discuss that with you, too.” Cornelia reached for the coffeepot and refilled their cups. “It would be lovely if Liv could make it. The baby’s due in about three weeks, the beginning of April. I’d thought to give the ball in April, but she won’t be able to travel so soon. Should I leave it until mid-May?”

“You know Livia, she’ll come if it’s humanly possible. But it depends on her confinement. If all goes smoothly, then six weeks should be long enough, but…” Aurelia shrugged expressively.

Cornelia nodded. They’d both endured the rigors of childbirth, and while they and the infants had survived, they also knew that they had been lucky. “Liv’s strong,” she offered. “And determined.”

“True enough. But Alex isn’t going to let her take any risks, and you know how persuasive he can be.”

Cornelia nodded again. Alexander Prokov had a way of ensuring things went according to his wishes. Livia, independent-minded though she was, was no proof against her husband’s determination if he was really set upon something. And he would make absolutely certain his adored wife took no risks. It was a safe bet that he would set the bar for those risks high.

“Well, perhaps I’ll make it the end of May,” Cornelia said after a moment’s thought. “Towards the end of the season. And we can open the conservatory and the garden. Black and white lanterns, or, no…” She held up a hand. “Not black and white at all,
silver
and black. How would that be, Ellie?”

“Pure magic,” Aurelia said, setting aside her coffee cup. “I foresee a critical success, my dear. And now I must be on my way. Thank you for the coffee.” She kissed her friend, who had risen from the chaise as Aurelia stood up. “I’ll send Daisy for Franny this afternoon. Will I see you at Cecily Langton’s luncheon?”

“Yes, I said I’d be there.” Cornelia accompanied Aurelia to the front door. “What are we raising money for this time?”

“A new infirmary at Chelsea Hospital, I believe. But she also mentioned that she’s sponsoring a newcomer to London…to the country, actually. A Spanish lady, recently married to the Earl of Lessingham. Have you come across her?”

“Oh, I think Harry may have mentioned her…or rather the marriage,” Cornelia said vaguely. “I gather Lessingham’s a lot older than she is, but totally devoted to her.”

“Well, he’s been a widower for ten years, let’s hope she’s as devoted to him,” Aurelia said with a wicked chuckle.

Cornelia grinned. “If Cecily’s taken her up, she’ll have plenty of opportunity to spread her wings.”

“Indeed. Cecily’s always reliable when it comes to good causes, whether it’s a foundling hospital, an infirmary for disabled soldiers, or a newcomer to society.”

“Unlike Letitia Oglethorpe,” Cornelia observed.

They both laughed, wrinkling their noses at the thought of their bête noire. Aurelia waved a hand in farewell and stepped out into a morning that had brightened in the time she’d spent with Cornelia. She strolled back towards Cavendish Square, reflecting that if Livia and Alex returned to London at the end of May, she’d have to give some thought to her own lodging. She couldn’t expect to stay as a semipermanent guest under their roof, and neither could she stay with Cornelia and Harry. For close to a year she and Franny had moved between the two households, and when Livia and Alex had gone into the country to await Livia’s confinement, they had left her in charge at Cavendish Square. The arrangement suited everyone, but she didn’t think she could revert to being a peripatetic guest.

Which rather left her with the choice of either return
ing to the country and her widow’s rustic existence, or somehow finding the funds to set up her own modest establishment in town. Her efforts to find such funds had so far fallen upon stony ground. It wasn’t that she didn’t have funds, more than sufficient for such a purpose, but her inheritance was held in trust by her late husband’s relatives, a group controlled by the Earl of Markby, Cornelia’s ex-father-in-law and a distant relative of her own. Markby was notoriously difficult to persuade when it came to disbursing funds from the trusts, and he had thus far resisted all such requests from Aurelia.

Maybe she should go down to Hampshire in person and try a face-to-face appeal. She had managed to avoid the ordeal until now, but if she wanted to remain in London, it was going to have to be done.

Her swift pace slowed as she saw someone coming down the steps of the house, back to the street. It was Colonel, Sir Greville Falconer. And the sight of him had the strangest effect on her. Her stomach seemed to turn to water, her thighs to jelly. It was as if she were terrified. Then her heart began to beat, her skin to prickle, and she was prompted by an urge to turn and run.

She held herself still, chiding herself for being so ridiculous. The man could do nothing more to her. He’d sprung his surprise, there was nothing more to be frightened of. He couldn’t hurt her anymore. So she told herself, but the reassurance did nothing to steady her erratic heartbeat…or explain it.

She walked forward slowly, taking deep breaths. He
had seen her now and was waiting on the pavement at the bottom of the steps, one gloved hand resting on the iron railing to the steps, the other on the silver hilt of his cane.

He bowed as she came close. “Lady Farnham, I just called and your butler said you were not at home.”

“He would appear to have been correct, Sir Greville,” she said, amazed at the even tenor of her voice. She had even managed a lightly ironic lilt to her tone.

“So it would appear, ma’am.” He smiled that flashing white smile in the bronzed complexion. “I confess I was afraid your servant had been instructed to deny me.”

“I see no reason to do that, sir,” Aurelia said, proud of the careless shrug that accompanied the statement. She might be terrified, or whatever it was she was feeling, but she seemed able to conceal it.

“No, neither do I,” he agreed amiably. “May I?” He went ahead of her to the door and banged the brass knocker with a vigor that indicated he had learned the necessity for a loud and imperative knock.

Aurelia came up beside him, a key in her hand. “It’s easier this way,” she said, fitting the key to the lock. The door swung open just as Morecombe, puffing and grumbling, reached the door.

“Can’t think why ye ’ave to be a bangin’ an’ a thumpin’ like that,” he complained. “Only jest got t’ the kitchen an’ it starts up again…an’ you’ve a key,” he accused, blinking rheumy eyes at her.

“I know, forgive me, Morecombe. It was Sir Greville
who knocked. He was unaware that I had a key,” Aurelia explained apologetically as she stepped into the hall. “Don’t let us disturb you further. We’ll be in the salon and I’ll see Sir Greville out myself.”

“Right y’are then.” Morecombe sniffed and shuffled away.

“Extraordinary servant,” Greville observed, as so many had done before him. “Fancy having to apologize to him for expecting him to do his job.”

Aurelia turned an icy glare upon him. “I hardly think it’s your place, sir, to criticize the management of my household.”

“No,” he agreed, with that disconcertingly charming smile. “I ask your pardon. I was somewhat taken aback.”

Aurelia hesitated, but there was something truly infectious about the colonel’s smile and she couldn’t help a slight, answering chuckle. “You are not alone in that, Sir Greville. Most people on first meeting Morecombe have such a response. He is more family than servant.” She led the way into the drawing room. “If you’d like coffee, I can fetch some immediately.”

He glanced towards the bell rope by the fireplace but wisely refrained from comment. “No, I thank you.”

“Very well.” She unbuttoned her pelisse, letting it drop from her shoulders over the back of a chair, before unpinning her hat. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Sir Greville?”

She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, Greville
reflected. But then why should she? “Two things, really. First, I wanted to be absolutely certain that you understood the need for complete secrecy. You can tell no one of what you know.”

“I understand,” she said flatly. “Frederick made it very clear that your life would be in danger if your identity was discovered.”

“That is so…and not just mine. Believe me, if Frederick hadn’t believed you could be trusted with the truth, I would not have permitted him to write that letter.”

Aurelia looked at him in surprise. “You believe you could have prevented him?”

“Yes, ma’am, I could.” It was a flat declaration. “But now you know so much, I wonder if you have anything further you wish to ask me. I don’t know exactly what Frederick’s letter contained, but it seems a fair assumption that it contained matters that could benefit from further explanation.”

Aurelia sat down, gesturing that he should do the same. At some point in the last few minutes she had regained her composure. Her heart rate had slowed and her mind was once again clear. She
did
have questions, and maybe he could answer them. “You recruited Frederick at sea just off the coast of Gibraltar.
Why
?” She clasped her hands lightly in her lap and regarded him, her head slightly to one side.

Like an inquisitive bird, he thought. She was small-boned, fine-featured, her hair the color of corn silk clus
tered in artfully arranged ringlets. Her dark brown eyes were warm and glowing like rich velvet.

The description surprised him. He was not accustomed to assessing the purely physical charms of society women, at least not since he’d joined the service. As a young man-about-town, he’d had his share of dalliances, including a heady liaison with the wife of a most distinguished politician.

Now why in the world had he started to remember Dorothea? She hadn’t popped into his head for close to twelve years. Was there a resemblance between the two women? Perhaps, he thought. Just a little. He gave himself a mental shake and sat down on the sofa opposite her. “It’s part of my job,” he said simply. “To look for likely recruits to my particular branch of service.”

“Why Frederick?” She leaned forward a little, intent on the answer, certain it would give her insight into the man she thought she had known and now knew that she had not.

Greville had decided earlier that the best way to win this woman’s confidence was the direct and honest route. He wasn’t sure as yet whether she was right for what he wanted, but he would proceed as if she were. “I had recently lost some men,” he stated baldly. “I boarded the ships anchored off Gibraltar looking for replacements. The men and women who do our particular brand of war work have to be of a certain caliber. They have to have particular character traits, and while they don’t need the necessary skills to be recruited, they do
need the ability and willingness to learn them. Frederick Farnham was such a man.”

“Were there others?”

He shook his head. “I spent two weeks with the fleet, a day or two on each vessel. I identified several men, officers and sailors alike, who could be used in other ways, but only Frederick was capable of partnering me.” He regarded her with a slight smile. “I only ever work with one partner anyway, so my recruiting mission was entirely successful.”