A Husband's Wicked Ways (7 page)

She forced her mind back to the conversation at the luncheon table. “How many new beds did you say the infirmary building will provide, Cecily?”

“Sir John Soane says eighty,” Cecily responded. “Little enough, barely a drop in the ocean these days, with the number of casualties coming back from the war.”

“Oh, they’re all over the streets,” Letitia declared with a fastidious shudder. “Begging for a penny, or a crust. One can’t walk along Piccadilly anymore without being accosted. It’s a disgrace. They look so dreadful, with no legs, or arms, and those filthy bandages. They should be put somewhere out of sight. Who needs to be reminded of those horrors?”

“Then I’m sure you’ll make a very generous contribution to the infirmary, Letitia,” Cornelia said with a silky smile. “It will take some of them out of your view.”

“Yes, indeed. I shall put you down for five hundred guineas, Letitia,” Cecily declared briskly. “If you’re lucky, such a sum might clear one side of Piccadilly of such offensive sights.”

Letitia blinked a little as she sipped her wine. Sometimes it seemed to her that she was being excluded from a joke. “I shall have to ask Oglethorpe,” she said, a mite plaintively. “Such a sum would rob me of most of a quarter’s allowance.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to persuade Lord Ogletho
rpe to assist such a worthy cause,” Aurelia said, smiling. “Everyone knows you have him wrapped around your little finger, Letitia.”

Letitia bridled, looked smug, and murmured, “Well, that’s as may be, but I do have a trick or two up my sleeve when it comes to persuasion.”

“I fear I can manage little,” Countess Lessingham said with an apologetic smile. “You must forgive me, ladies, but so much of my own resources go to help my own countrymen in London. So many of them flee the tyrant with only the clothes they stand up in. I do what I can for them. But I could manage perhaps twenty guineas for the infirmary.”

“That would be most generous, Countess,” Cecily said. “We know how deeply you are involved in relieving the plight of your countrymen in exile.”

“I will do what I can for anyone suffering from Napoléon’s tyranny,” the lady announced, her Spanish accent becoming more pronounced under the strength of her emotion. “Poor King Carlos and his family, forced into exile. It’s such a dreadful time.” Her voice quavered a little, and she dabbed at her eyes with a dainty scrap of embroidered lace.

The luncheon broke up soon after. “Will you come back to Mount Street, Ellie?” Cornelia asked as they gathered wraps and gloves. “You could collect Franny.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Aurelia said somewhat absently. “That would be convenient, Nell. D’you have your carriage?”

“Mmm. The barouche. Of course, if you have something you need to do at home, I could drop you off in Cavendish Square and Daisy can come and fetch Franny later.”

“No, I have nothing in particular to do this afternoon,” Aurelia said with perfect truth. She had no desire to be alone with her thoughts, although it would be a strain to watch her tongue with Cornelia. They were not accustomed to having secrets from each other. But the more practice she had with this secret, the easier it would become.

They bade farewell to their hostess and walked down the steps to the barouche, which awaited at the curb. “Cecily certainly has a talent for organization,” Cornelia observed, climbing up into the carriage with a nod to the footman who held the door.

“She’s one of the few women I know who can keep the discussion on track,” Aurelia agreed, grateful for this innocuous conversation. “Even Letitia can’t budge her when Cecily’s bee is buzzing in her bonnet.”

Cornelia laughed and arranged the lap robe over both of them. “I was quite drawn to Countess Lessingham. Did you like her?”

“She certainly has a passion for her émigré countrymen,” Aurelia said, tucking her hands beneath the robe. “And one can only respect that. This wretched war is causing so much suffering across the Continent. So many lives lost, so many wounded…so many families left destitute, homeless.” She looked helplessly at her friend.
“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing enough, Nell.”

“We gave two husbands to the war,” Cornelia said quietly. “I know that could be considered a small sacrifice when one looks at what others have lost or have now to endure, but it’s not insignificant, Ellie. Neither of us tried to persuade our husbands to stay safe at home. We knew the risks, but we embraced them, as did Stephen and Frederick.”

Aurelia could only murmur assent. However Frederick had died, he had died for his country. Her eyes darted left and right as the carriage bowled through the streets. She half expected to see Greville Falconer lurking, although if he was lurking, she doubted he would make himself visible.

“Something troubling you, love?”

“No, whyever should there be?” Aurelia said with a laugh that she hoped sounded convincing.

Cornelia shrugged. “You seemed rather distrait at luncheon, and you seem on edge now.”

“I’m a little tired.”

“Ah.” Cornelia nodded, unconvinced, but she would not probe in the absence of any encouragement. She changed the subject. “I must show you the color scheme I’ve decided on for the ball.”

“Black and silver, you said.”

“Yes, but with little hints of white and crimson. The flowers will be white lilies, and stripped honesty, for the silver. And then…” Cornelia looked expectantly at Aurelia. “Can you guess?”

Aurelia shook her head, amused despite her preoccupation.

“Black tulips.”

“Where on earth…?”

“Alex,” Cornelia stated. “I mentioned my idea in a letter to Liv last week, and Alex came up with the notion of black tulips.”

“Lord,” Aurelia murmured. “Is there no limit to the miracles our Prince Prokov can perform?”

“Apparently not. He knows a tulip grower in Amsterdam who can let me have ten dozen. I know it’s not many, but just imagine the effect, Ellie.”

“Oh, I am,” Aurelia breathed. “And what about the hints of scarlet?”

“Tulips again. They’ll be at their best in May.” Cornelia beamed with satisfaction. “It will be perfect, and Liv is adamant that she will be strong enough by the end of May to be there.”

“Will you carry the color scheme onto the supper table?” Aurelia was fascinated, and more than happy to explore this unexceptionable subject.

“Harry thinks black-and-white food might be a little off-putting,” Cornelia said. “He suggested tripe and onions for the white stuff, raw beef for the red, and black pudding for the black.”

Aurelia burst into laughter. “Trust Harry to bring matters down to earth.”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” her friend said cheerfully. “But we have to liaise on our gowns.” She regarded
her friend with an assessing eye. “Silver and gold, I think for you, Ellie. So perfect with your hair.”

“Oh, I’ve a hankering for a hint of scarlet,” Aurelia retorted with a chuckle.

The carriage turned onto Mount Street and her laugh died in her throat. Harry Bonham was coming towards them. Sir Greville Falconer was at his side.

Aurelia began to feel stifled, trapped in a web spun by this man who’d marched uninvited into her life with what seemed the sole purpose of destroying all the equilibrium she had.

As the men approached, Harry raised a hand in greeting. “Good afternoon, Aurelia.” He reached the carriage and stood one hand on the door, his eyes only on his wife. “Wife of mine,” he murmured.

“Husband,” she returned, her voice as low as his as she gave him her hand to alight. Aurelia was accustomed to the sensual charge between these two, but she couldn’t help noticing with some satisfaction a slight surprised narrowing of the colonel’s eyes, and she hoped he was discomfited. It would certainly be the first time in their brief acquaintance.

She stepped out of the carriage as Harry held up his free hand. “Forgive the intrusion, Harry,” she said lightly. “I come merely to fetch Franny.”

“You could never intrude,” he said, and she knew it was not mere politeness speaking. “Allow me to introduce Colonel, Sir Greville Falconer.” He gestured to his companion.

“Falconer…Lady Farnham…and my wife, Viscountess Bonham.”

Aurelia met the dark gray eyes with a steadiness that surprised her. She extended her hand. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Colonel.”

He took her hand, raised it to his lips in a courtly gesture that surprised her as much as her own composure. “Lady Farnham, I’m honored.” He gave her his smile again, and his gaze seemed to linger a moment longer than necessary on her countenance, before he turned to greet Cornelia.

“Colonel, are you new to town?” Cornelia asked.

“Colonel Falconer has just returned from Corunna,” Harry said. “He’s been out of England for some years now.”

Cornelia understood immediately that the colonel was in some way involved in the business that kept her husband so occupied in the dark corridors of the War Ministry, business best not examined too closely. So she nodded and said, “I trust you’ll take tea, Colonel. How long are you in town?”

“I hope to stay for several months, ma’am,” he replied, following her up to the front door. “I’m looking for suitable lodgings.”

“Oh, I’m sure Harry’s agent could help you there,” she said. “Don’t you think, Harry?”

“Certainly,” her husband said, standing to one side so that Aurelia could precede him into the house. “I’ll ask Lester to arrange it.”

“Come into the drawing room, Sir Greville.” Cornelia led the way. “Will you take tea, or would you prefer something from Harry’s cellars?”

“The latter, I’m sure,” Harry declared. “Aurelia, a glass of Madeira?”

“No, I’d love tea, thank you,” Aurelia said. “So, Colonel Falconer, what brings you to London? It must seem very tame after the rigors of the battlefield.”

“Sometimes tame is welcome, Lady Farnham,” he replied, taking a seat beside her on a small sofa.

His thigh seemed very close to hers, and Aurelia shifted slightly towards her arm of the sofa. She had the urge to discompose him, to play with fire a little. “I was rereading some of Frederick’s letters from Oxford this morning, Nell,” she said. “You know how he and Stephen used to write to us regularly during term. He was describing an evening when he and Stephen dodged the beadle and climbed in over the wall at dawn…do you remember?”

Cornelia hid her surprise at this strange conversational turn. “They were a pair of rakehells, weren’t they? In their youth,” she added with a small smile, gesturing to the footman that he should put the tea tray on the table in front of her.

Aurelia turned to the colonel. “Forgive the reminiscence, sir. My husband was Lady Bonham’s brother. He and her first husband were childhood friends. They did everything together. Harrow, Magdalen College, Oxford, and then the navy.” She met his eyes. “And they
died together at Trafalgar.” She took the cup Cornelia handed her with a bland smile.

Harry was looking at her strangely and Aurelia didn’t care. She was no marionette to be danced at the end of Greville Falconer’s strings. The colonel’s gaze sharpened with a glint of surprise, and she felt a surge of satisfaction. He inclined his head in an infinitesimal movement that only she, sitting so close to him, would notice. But it was an absolute acknowledgment of a hit. This round she had won.

“It was a great naval victory,” he said gravely. “Despite the many lives that were lost.”

The unspoken name of Admiral Nelson hung heavy for a moment, and Aurelia reflected that her moment of satisfaction hadn’t lasted very long. There was no countermove to the invocation of that particular hero’s death at Trafalgar. Harry and Nell bore the look of someone prepared to support an old friend but completely at sea as to why it had to be on this particular tack.

“Where were you thinking of looking for lodgings, Falconer?” Harry asked, pouring Madeira in two glasses.

“Wherever I can find them. Thank you.” Greville took the glass. “I’d like to be within comfortable walking distance of Piccadilly.”

“You’ll set up your stable, of course?” Harry took a seat and gestured to Greville to do the same.

“In a minor way. A decent riding horse…a good
pair for a curricle. No more than that.” Greville sipped his Madeira. “Do you ride, Lady Farnham?”

“I enjoy riding, Colonel.”

“Then perhaps you would accept my escort one afternoon. I am so new to town, and if you would be willing to introduce a newcomer to the rituals of a Hyde Park trot along the tan, I would be eternally in your debt.” Greville smiled as he spoke, his eyes only on her countenance, giving the impression that she was the only person in the room.

What game was he playing now?
Aurelia had no idea, but she knew she needed to bring it to a close quickly. Cornelia and Harry were far too sharp-witted to watch this byplay without wondering what was going on. She said pleasantly, “That would be delightful, Colonel, but I find little enough time for such exercise these days. My daughter occupies so much of my day.”

“You leave me desolate, ma’am,” Greville murmured. “But I understand that the needs of your child must be paramount.”

She set down her cup and got abruptly to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go up to the schoolroom. I wanted to ask Miss Alison some things about Franny’s progress.”

“I’ll come with you,” Cornelia said. “I’m sure you and the colonel can entertain yourselves for a few minutes, Harry.”

“You’ll be missed, my dear,” Harry said with a quiet
smile. The two men both rose to their feet and bowed as the ladies left the drawing room.

“Have you met the colonel before, Ellie?” Cornelia asked as they ascended the stairs.

“Of course not. What gave you that idea?” Aurelia tried for a light dismissive laugh, telling herself that it
would
get easier.

“I don’t know exactly,” her friend said, shooting her a sideways glance. “Just something about the way he behaved with you. There was just something between you both that seemed to give that impression.”

“Oh, perhaps it was just one of those instantaneous dislikes we all form occasionally,” Aurelia said carelessly. “I own there’s something about him that puts my back up…a certain presumption…arrogance, if you will.”