A Poisoned Season (17 page)

“It’s magnificent.”

“My collection of ancient texts is no rival to your own, but you’ll find I’ve a better selection of fiction.” As he said this, I considered something that had not before occurred to me. The books to which he referred weren’t mine at all; they belonged to the Ashton family. Nothing in my house, save my clothing, personal items, and the handful of antiquities I had purchased since Philip’s death, was truly mine. Someday the new viscount would want to take possession of his house. Because the boy was barely four years old, it was unlikely this would happen for some time, but the fact remained that I did not have a home of my own. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not precisely.” I forced a smile. “I’ll simply have to expand my own fiction holdings.”

“Have you already heard from Cécile?”

“Am I not allowed to call on you except in an official capacity?”

“I am, of course, delighted to see you, but I fear for the health of my butler. Poor Hoskins is not accustomed to unescorted young ladies calling.”

“I’d be distressed if he were. It would call into question your very character.” I sat in a large, extremely comfortable leather chair. “I’ve just seen Charles Berry. He was so abominable I longed for a friendly face.” Colin frowned as I told him about my encounter with the dreadful man in the park.

“He’s not foolish enough to hurt you, but I do not like this, Emily.”

“Have you any idea of how he was involved with Mr. Francis?”

“I don’t, but when I see him tonight, I shall find out what I can.”

“Are you going to Lady Elinor’s ball?”

“Yes. You?”

“She’s the one person aside from Ivy who still considers me worthy of her guest list.”

“Will you waltz with me?”

“We could waltz now,” I said, meeting his steady gaze.

“Too dangerous. From experience I’m keenly aware of the ruinous effect dancing with you in private has on my self-control.”

“Lovely though it is to contemplate you losing your self-control, I shan’t tempt you further, though I reserve the right to do so in the future. But I’ve more to tell you. When we left the British Museum the other day, my friend followed us. He left me a note hidden in some half-dead flowers the next day.”

“I was careful to check that no one was tailing us, and I didn’t see anyone. He must be very good at this game.” He ran his hand through his hair, stood up, and leaned against the mantel, his elbow resting on the marble top. “Do you feel threatened by this man?”

“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” I said, hesitating slightly.

“I’ll be perfectly frank with you, my dear. There’s nothing I would like better than to lock you up somewhere, preferably at my country house, while I uncover this…person…and determine whether he means you harm. He’s a criminal, not an ordinary admirer. We’ve no
idea the lengths to which he would be willing to go to reach you.” His eyes met mine, his expression all seriousness. “But I shall not undermine you by trying to rescue you. Know, Emily, that if you truly need me, I am here.”

I think had he the presence of mind to propose at that moment, I would have accepted. The combination of hearing him speak in such an enlightened manner and the perfect setting of his library would have been too much to resist.

“Colin, I—”

He knelt in front of me and took my hands in his, squeezing them. “My dear, dear girl. I could not go on if something were to happen to you. I have enough trust in your abilities to know that you’ll be able to find out who he is. But promise me that you will not put yourself in danger. Do not take risks. You have a tendency to—”

“That’s quite enough.” How I wished he would take me in his arms. “I shall be careful.”

“I would not love you so well if you were less headstrong. Please do not make me regret it.”

“Regret loving me or regret that I am headstrong?”

“I shall never regret loving you, Emily. Not even if, once you’ve unmasked this admirer of yours, you decide to run off with him and pursue a life of crime.”

“You’re not the first to suggest such an outcome. Are my morals really so questionable?”

“It’s not your morals; it’s your attraction to adventure.”

“Well, I shall have to work at controlling myself. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to match your strength.” I placed two fingers on his lips but knew better than to hope he would kiss me. “Though I will confess that I’ve no desire to have such self-restraint when it comes to you.”

“That, my dear, is the luxury of being a lady. You’re perfectly safe with me, and you know it. So long as I exercise some control, you’ve no need to.”

“Someday, I’m sure, I’ll want to thank you for that. At the moment, however, my views on the subject are rather conflicted.”

I
was more excited than I had expected to be about Lady Elinor’s ball. It had been too long since I had danced, and I felt no small measure of irritation at the thought of holier-than-thou society matrons keeping me from their guest lists and, in turn, from waltzing. The entrance hall to the Routledges’ house was filled with enormous masses of flowers, providing a perfect backdrop for the legions of ladies in their stylish gowns and brightening the patches of black where gentlemen congregated in their elegant black jackets and white ties.

Isabelle was less miserable than I would have guessed. She stood next to her fiancé on the stairway that led to the ballroom, a charming smile on her face, but there was no brightness in her eyes as she welcomed her guests. Although Mr. Berry deliberately took as little notice of me as possible, I could feel his eyes linger unpleasantly on me after I had passed him, and I shuddered at the thought of his attention. I hurried away from him, eager to find a friendly face at the party; instead, my mother headed me off the instant I entered the room.

“You must behave yourself,” she whispered with such force that it was clear she had every intention of being overheard. “Otherwise there’s no chance that you will be able to reclaim your place in decent society.”

It was unfair of her to accost me in public, where she knew I could not respond to her as I wished. “There’s no need to worry, Mother. I’m always perfectly appropriate.”

“You are not to speak to Bainbridge tonight unless you plan to marry him. I won’t let you ruin yourself with flirting.”

“I’ll thank you to stop telling me what to do.”

She looked at me with such satisfaction that it was obvious this performance was for her own benefit. She wanted to make sure that
society knew that she was doing all she could to control me, so that, should I be ruined, she would have their sympathy rather than their censure.

“I’ll not stand by and watch you drag the reputation of our family through the gutter, Emily.” She may have objected to watching that, but she certainly did not object to watching me, closely, for the entire evening. The only time I was able to escape her was when I danced. Happily, although the ladies of society seemed bent on cutting me, the gentlemen did not share their scruples, and I had no shortage of partners. But other than my mother, Lady Elinor, Isabelle, and dear Ivy were the only ladies who spoke to me.

I did, at last, get to waltz with Colin. Feeling his arm at my waist was more intoxicating than our hostess’s champagne, and he guided me across the floor with expert grace.

“Holding you like this makes me realize how wise I was to avoid dancing with you in private,” he said. “It could have led to nothing good. You’re lovelier than ever tonight.” I had spent a small fortune on my gown, cut from silk of the palest shade of rose, embroidered with silver thread and crystal beads. The neckline was daringly low, and the sleeves puffed subtly at the shoulder, tapering to fit tightly at the elbow. Mr. Worth himself had beamed with pleasure when he saw me in it at my final fitting.

When the music ended, Colin handed me off to my next partner, Jeremy, whom I had accepted as much to irritate my mother as I had because I wanted to dance with him. He and Colin nodded sharply at one another but said very little. It did not occur to me at the time that one might be jealous of the other. Almost before the dance had ended, my mother was stalking us on the edge of the crowd.

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure, as always, to see you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Bromley.”

“I do hope Emily is being kind to you.”

Jeremy flashed a smile but did not reply. My father, who had early
in the evening abandoned my mother to talk politics with a group of his friends, returned to collect her, and not a moment too soon. Given more time, she would have brokered a marriage contract between the two of us right there on the dance floor. I was about to seek out a glass of champagne when Lord Fortescue appeared in front of me.

“I think we ought to dance, Lady Ashton.”

“If you insist, Lord Fortescue,” I said, hating the feel of his arm on mine. He was not a bad partner; that much I will give him. But his manner was in every other way deplorable.

“You’d do well with Bainbridge,” he said, leading me across the floor. “You’re both in dire need of settling down. I know you’ve had your eye on Hargreaves, but he’s not a good match for you.”

“I’m sure it’s none of your concern,” I said, doing my best to keep a smile on my face.

“It’s very much my concern, as it is the concern of anyone with a sense of loyalty to the empire.”

“Really? I’m all astonishment.”

“Do not play ignorant with me. Hargreaves’s work for the Crown is invaluable. You’ve proven to be nothing but a distraction to him.”

“His work has suffered on my account? Not only do I find that unbelievable, but it’s also insulting to Mr. Hargreaves. He would never allow personal concerns to interfere with his work. How dare you suggest such a thing?”

“I know your type, Lady Ashton. Always wanting to be involved, meddling where you should not. If you care for him, leave him alone. He does not deserve the trouble you are certain to heap upon him.”

Clearly, my only options were to ignore my partner entirely or to engage him in a discussion of the weather. I chose the former. When the music stopped, we stood next to Robert and a woman whom I did not recognize. Her age fell somewhere between mine and that of my mother, and she was dressed in an extremely expensive, though ostentatious, gown.

“Have you met Mrs. Reynold-Plympton?” Robert asked. I shook my head, and the introduction was made. I was about to ask her how long she’d been in London when the music began again, and she turned to my friend’s husband.

“Shall we dance again? I can’t remember when I’ve had such a pleasant partner.” Robert mumbled something unintelligible and led her back to the floor, leaving me stranded with Lord Fortescue.

“Will you excuse me?” I asked before he had the chance to claim another dance. As I made my way across the room, a servant approached me.

“Lady Ashton, a gentleman asked that I give this to you.” He handed me a large ivory envelope.

“Lord Fortescue?”

“I don’t believe it was he, madam.”

I looked around the room, searching for Colin, but did not see him. Ivy was not far from me, and I pulled her into the garden, wanting someone with me when I opened the parcel. She was appropriately horrified when I told her what had been going on.

“Oh dear,” she said. “Perhaps I should get Robert.”

“We can open an envelope without him, Ivy.” I pulled a pin out of my hair, which was piled high on my head in a simple pompadour, and carefully slit the paper.

“Who left it for you? Is he still here?” She looked around, then relaxed as much as her corset would allow, apparently satisfied that there was no one stalking us in the garden.

“Highly unlikely.” Within the envelope was a note wrapped around another letter.
I can help more than you know, Kallista darling
was scrawled in now-familiar handwriting. Inside this was a letter, folded, with the remains of a wax seal on the back. Excitement filled me; the letter was addressed to Marie Antoinette. Careful not to harm the fragile paper, I unfolded the page, eager to see who had written the letter. “It’s from Léonard.” He gave a terse description of his daily
activities, referred briefly to some of the queen’s acquaintances, and closed with an account of an altercation he’d had with a merchant in a butcher’s shop. He wished the queen well, said he was praying for her soul, and promised to write again soon.

I handed it to Ivy. “How tragic,” she said after she had read it. “To think, the poor woman was waiting to be executed, and this is the sort of correspondence from which she was to take consolation.”

“I’m sure everything was read by her jailors. Hardly circumstances in which someone would be willing to divulge personal details. But you’re right. It is sad.” I touched the fading ink on the page. “I had hoped for something else, something that would reveal the significance of the queen’s letters.”

“Could he have more of Léonard’s letters?”

“That, Ivy, is an excellent question. He must have been following me when I went off in search of the letters. How else would he know I was looking for them?”

“I wonder…” she began, but was interrupted by Robert.

“What are you two discussing? I thought Hargreaves was with you.”

“No, darling, Emily and I were talking about another of her admirers,” Ivy said, standing and giving her husband her arm.

“Hmmm. Dangerous topic these days, eh, Emily?” Robert was quite handsome when he smiled.

“It wouldn’t be a dangerous topic if people would limit themselves to the discourse of facts.”

“Until reality becomes as interesting as fiction, I’m afraid that’s unlikely,” he said.

“That reminds me,” I began. “How are you enjoying the book I lent you, Ivy?”

“Oh, it’s…well…I thought—”

“What book is this?” Robert asked.

“Mount Royal,”
I said. “Are you familiar with it?”

“It’s not the sort of thing that Robert—”

“Not more trash by that Braddon woman, I hope,” Robert said. “A dreadful waste of time.”

“I prefer to think of it as an entertaining escape,” I said. “Have you any concept of the amount of effort it takes to run a large household well? Ivy’s overdue for some relaxation.”