Once Upon a Scandal (17 page)

But why rebuff her and then all but promise to seduce her?

Because that’s what rakes did. Whatever feelings for him she had—and yes, desire was one of them—she’d do well to remember it. Especially given the task ahead.

Because surely, in the history of the British Empire, no one had ever been as silly as she. She would drown in the sweeping currents of her own folly, in the misguided assumption she could fool former friends and family, and indeed everyone she’d ever known, with this ill-conceived plan.

“You’re not going to be sick, are you?” Oakley asked. “I’ve seen that look on your face before, and it did not end well.”

God bless Oakley for her utter lack of sympathy. They’d been over this any number of times on the journey into London, and Oakley had offered the same, refreshingly direct reply: “What’s done is done. And you’d best not drag me down with you.”

How right she was to be concerned. After all, if Jane’s deception was discovered, her father’s scandal would pale by comparison. So as the carriage pulled up in front of Number 7 Albemarle Street, Jane straightened her shoulders, smoothed the sleeves of her pelisse, and prepared to greet the world—or at least the footmen waiting at the curb of Grillion’s Hotel—with a confidence she was far from feeling. The small door swung open as a liveried young man rushed forward with carriage steps.

She’d almost forgotten it, how London assaulted the senses. The clatter of horses on cobblestone and the cries of street vendors. The coal and peat smoke permeating everything. The soot hanging in the air. In all, a filthy and ill-mannered place, making her sudden nostalgia all the more ridiculous.

“Madame Fauchon?” A small, well-dressed man was standing beside the entrance of the hotel, and when she acknowledged him with a slight nod, he offered a deep bow, stepping forward. “I am so proud to welcome you. I am Alexander Grillion, the proprietor of this hotel and a fellow countryman. May I say our entire staff has been eagerly awaiting your arrival?”

The greeting had been spoken in French, so she responded in kind. “Thank you, monsieur. Friends in Paris recommended your establishment, for it has a reputation on both sides of the Channel as a place where a lady will be offered a gentle respite.”

He puffed up at her praise. “How pleased I am to know it. Several personages await you inside, eager to make your acquaintance. May I escort you personally?”

“Too kind you are, monsieur. I am desperately in need of a friendly face after my journey. You must know how it is, to travel into a country as the enemy.”

“Emperor Bonaparte is the enemy,” he replied with a warm smile. “You, madame, are the flower of French womanhood and will surely be welcomed as such.”

“And you’ve a talent for hyperbole,” she said with a throaty chuckle as he ushered her into the hotel’s lobby, warm with paneled walls and checkerboard marble floors. It reminded one of a luxurious private estate, surely the effect Grillion had sought.

“Are you, too, from Paris?” he asked, guiding her to a door, slightly ajar, off the main lobby.

“I was born there, but I’ve only just returned after many years along the Côte d’Azur.”

“I thought I detected a bit of the south in your voice.”

As they passed into a side parlor, she kept her face impassive. She must remember that, as Lillianne, she didn’t know these people. Not yet.

“May I present the Countess of Marchmain, Lady Sophia Middleton, and the Viscount Marworth,” Grillion said. “Both are eager to welcome you to London, so I will see to refreshments and ensure your trunks are delivered to your suite. Please don’t hesitate to ring for me.” With that and a short bow, he departed.

She almost breathed a sigh of relief. Grillion, as a Frenchman, had seemed to accept her disguise without question. Still, every word and action must play its part, and because the door was still ajar, she offered a bright smile as they came forward. Sophia was dressed in a beautiful day gown of dove-grey silk, while Benjamin wore a deep blue jacket over buckskin trousers. Both were molded to him in typically disconcerting fashion. Especially disconcerting after last night.

“How kind you are to welcome a stranger. And may I thank you,
monsieur le vicomte
, for sending the carriage to ease my way here? You were a friend to my cousin, I think?”

“Miss Fitzsimmons was a woman I held in very high esteem,” he replied, looking appropriately downcast at the mention of her name. How good he was at this. The lying. One would think he’d cared deeply. “And of course, the countess was close to her, as well.”

Sophia’s attention had already shifted to the doorway. “It seems we’re not the only ones eager to make your acquaintance, Madame Fauchon.” And while Lady Marchmain’s face revealed nothing, her voice held a note of warning. Another test, it seemed, was waiting behind Jane.

“Goodness, you are so like her!” It was Charlotte Montford, rushing into the room to wrap her up in a puff of lilac taffeta, hugging her so tightly the air was nearly forced from her lungs. “Forgive me for being so forward,” she said as she pulled away. “Jane was such a dear to me, and we’ve all missed her terribly. But what a lovely reminder you are of what we’ve lost. Oh dear, didn’t that sound dreadful? I am nervous, even though I shouldn’t be. We are nearly family after all.”

“Such an enthusiastic greeting,
madame
,” she replied, her pulse racing because both Gerard and Sir Aldus had followed Charlotte into the room, eyes assessing. They were the two people most likely to doubt her identity. “My countrymen think the English a stern and dour lot, but you offer ample evidence to the contrary. And we are nearly family, you say? I am Madame Lillianne Fauchon, here in London on behalf of my late cousin, Miss Jane Fitzsimmons.”

Gerard stepped forward at that. “I am Montford, now Lord Fitzsimmons, and this is my wife, Lady Charlotte. We saw the announcement of your arrival in the papers and knew we must be here. May I also present Sir Aldus Rempley, Lady Charlotte’s former guardian?”

Sir Aldus bowed over her hand, grasping it tightly as he looked up into her face, his eyes speculative. “I was a close friend of the former Lord Fitzsimmons, and of Miss Fitzsimmons as well.”

An egregious lie, not that he looked the least bit ashamed. Masking her revulsion, she forced a bright smile. “I am pleased to meet all of you.”

“Did you travel here with your husband, Madame Fauchon?” This from Gerard.

“
Mais, non
. I’m afraid I lost him in an accident nearly two years ago.”

“How curious that neither Lord Fitzsimmons nor his daughter ever mentioned you in conversation,” Sir Aldus said. He’d moved to stand beside her, close enough that she could smell the cologne with which he’d doused himself, a strong scent reminiscent of cloves. He’d also dressed his hair with an oily pomade, to darken it perhaps.

“I’m afraid,
monsieur le baron
, that Lord Fitzsimmons discouraged any communication with our side of the family, especially after the wars began. Jane’s letters were a secret between us, full of thoughts we shared with no one else.”

“Oh, please do tell,” Charlotte said. “Jane was always so terrifyingly proper. How delicious to think she had hopes and dreams, just like the rest of us. Did she tell you a particular man had caught her fancy?” She grinned knowingly at Benjamin.

Well, this they’d not practiced. How to smile when an insult was heaped upon one’s former self. Somehow, she managed it. “Jane didn’t mention any names,” she said, her voice conspiratorial as Sir Aldus stiffened beside her. Every instinct railed against engaging him. “But she did say he was very handsome.”

“I hope no one was trying to take advantage at a difficult time,” Sir Aldus replied, glaring at Benjamin. “Miss Fitzsimmons was terribly naïve.”

Such a hypocrite he was! It was nearly overwhelming, the urge to make an indignant reply and stomp on his foot in outrage. So she pretended instead to a fit of coughing, reaching into her reticule for a handkerchief to complete the deception.

“Are you all right,
madame
?” Benjamin asked solicitously, though his eyes gleamed with amusement.

“It is just … I have been so sad. I only learned of her admirer in that last letter. To think she lost her chance at happiness.” She shuddered with what she thought was a rather nice show of delicacy.

“She’s in a better place now,” Charlotte said. “You must believe it. Things had gotten quite uncomfortable for her in London. But now she is celebrated as a heroine. And as her close cousin, looking so much like her, why, you’re bound to be celebrated, as well. It will all be quite good fun.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t overwhelm Madame Fauchon,” Gerard said. Tact had never been one of Charlotte’s strong points.

“You must stay with us at Fitzsimmons House,” Charlotte continued, undeterred. “There’s no need to rent rooms at Grillion’s when you’ve family here in the city.”

How dreadful that would be, to have not a moment’s rest from her façade. “It is so generous an offer, but I should never wish to intrude. My stay here is an extended one, as I’ve several matters to attend to on Jane’s behalf.”

“But surely we can be of some help? Extra hands will always make a task go faster. I vow I’ve said it hundreds of times. And once we’re done, you’ll be free to enjoy London. I can show you all the shops. The best ones are on Bond Street. Really, you must say you’ll stay with us.”

“Again, you are all that is kind, but it would make me too sad, I think, to be among my cousin’s things, when she is no longer here to share them with me.”

“Not to worry,” Charlotte offered brightly. “I myself have seen to the packing of them. Everything has been labeled and sorted and placed well out of sight.”

“Charlotte, that’s enough,” Sir Aldus cut in, his voice unnecessarily sharp, much as she appreciated his intervention. “You shouldn’t be handling Miss Fitzsimmons’s personal effects. There are others better suited to the task. And Madame Fauchon deserves some time to acclimate herself to her new surroundings.” He returned his gaze to her, and she could not miss the way his eyes swept her body. “Did you travel with a lady’s maid,
madame
?” His smile was unctuous. “My niece would be happy to loan you hers, if need be.”

“
Merci, monsieur
, but I engaged the services of a young lady in Dover. She is already upstairs, seeing to my trunks.”

“You must come to Fitzsimmons House for dinner then, just as soon as you possibly can,” Charlotte said. “We want to lay claim to you before the social whirl sweeps you up. Would tomorrow suit?” She turned to Sophia and Benjamin. “You must join us, as well. Shall we say eight o’clock? It will be such fun to learn about Jane’s lovely French cousin and about all the goings on in Paris.”

“I’d be pleased to escort both ladies,” Benjamin replied with a curt nod. “Providing that Madame Fauchon is up to socializing so soon after her arrival.”

“
Merci, monsieur le vicomte
. I will look forward to enjoying a meal tomorrow with so many new friends and to visiting Fitzsimmons House once more.”

Too late, she realized her mistake. All eyes were suddenly on her; Sophia and Benjamin looked cautious. Montford‘s head was tilted, and Charlotte was seemingly confused. Sir Aldus regarded her with something very like suspicion.

“If the previous Lord Fitzsimmons wanted nothing to do with the French side of your family,” Sir Aldus said, “how is it you were invited to his home?”

“
Alors
, did I misspeak?” How to bluff her way out of this? She couldn’t fail when she’d only just begun.

“Have you been to London before, Madame Fauchon?” Montford asked.

“Only in my dreams,
monsieur
. For me, Jane painted both the city and her home in such vivid terms. The famous Bond Street, with the fashionable ladies in their cashmere shawls.” She tried for an appropriately wistful expression. “And Fitzsimmons House. How she’d skipped across its floors as a little girl and played among the roses in her
jardin
. The English word is garden, yes?”

“Little Violet plays in that very same garden,” Charlotte enthused. “She’ll be pleased to show it to you, if you like.”

“That would be so kind,” she replied. “I have imagined just how it will look.”

If Charlotte’s answering smile was anything to go by, at least she’d been convinced. Sir Aldus and Montford also looked satisfied … for now.

“We’ve met you so close upon the heels of your long journey, Madame Fauchon.” She could read nothing in Benjamin’s expression. “You must be feeling overwhelmed.”

“I will admit I am most fatigued, if I may excuse myself. Until tomorrow, then?”

With a final smile, she turned and departed, eager to make her escape.

[An] ignoble disposition to scandal [is] by many deemed one of the characteristic blemishes of [the female] sex.—
Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women

“Well, that was nearly disastrous,” Jane said, sitting upon a richly upholstered sofa in her suite.

“But you recovered beautifully,” Sophia said, sitting beside Jane. Oakley had dismissed the last of the hotel maids sent to help with the unpacking, and a fully laden tea cart had been delivered. Jane’s hands seemed unsteady, though, as she poured each of them a cup.

For his part, Benjamin was too anxious to sit and too restless for tea. He’d noticed a nearby sideboard with an array of crystal decanters and had set aside his gloves. Already, he had a glass of port in hand.

Jane’s one small slip had been a reminder of how tenuous this ruse was. A mistake in such circumstances was hardly surprising. But in her case, the consequences could be disastrous. To be unmasked before the whole of the ton. Or worse.

Swallowing down the port, past a spike of fear, he willed his heart to slow down, even as his mind imagined one hideous outcome after another. “Given Madame Fauchon’s native tongue, people will allow for verbal missteps,” he said. At least they would at first …

“I think it was Sir Aldus who unnerved me,” Jane said. “I hadn’t seen him since that dreadful day, when he came to the house after the funeral.”