The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (27 page)

She was mollified by
his obvious sincerity.

Foster handed her a
folded missive. “Your cousin asked the captain to make sure you got
this letter.”

Tally broke the seal
and unfolded the one-page letter. It was brief and soon read. “Poor
Minerva,” she said again, only this time she was being sincere.
“She feels awful about letting me down. They think she has the
measles and have refused to allow her and several others, similarly
afflicted, to continue, for fear of it spreading among all the other
passengers.” She read the end. “She assures me she will be well
cared for by the missionaries. She doesn’t sound too unhappy about
being left there.”

“Humph!” was
Foster’s succinct reply. “Now what are ye going to do?”

“Now, I suppose, I
shall have to hire a companion,” she said dejectedly. “Though how
we’re going to manage that with all that is hanging over our head
in that house, I have no idea.”

Foster merely looked at
her glumly, not saying a word.

“I know you want me
to go live with Grandma Lawton, but you know why I don’t want to do
that.” She needed a studio if she wanted to continue working and
she couldn’t conceal her art work from her sharp-eyed grandmother.
Besides, with Reed involved now... She sighed. “Maybe we should
just go home to Evesham. At least until
Monsieur
returns.”

“Sounds like the
wisest course to me,” he approved, albeit with a sympathetic look.

Mr. Mason, however, had
other ideas. He cleared his throat to get their attention. “Allow
me to say that it might be best to find out who is threatening your
life before you go haring back to the countryside. Here, I can
protect you and try to find out who is responsible. There, you are
out in the open where anybody can shoot you with impunity.”

She was about to reply,
when he continued, “And another point, is Mr. Leighton familiar
with your country home?” Not giving her the chance to reply, he
continued, “Because if he isn’t, he will no doubt have even
greater difficulty recovering his memory, if he is not in his normal
environs.”

Not about to admit she
had no idea where her sham spouse came from, she said, “What makes
you think London is his usual locale?” She asked it purely for
argument’s sake. She hadn’t really considered bringing him home
with them.

He paused briefly, then
said, “I’m not, but if you know with certainty that your home
town is not. Perhaps it is better to keep him where he at least has
some familiarity.”

Much to her chagrin,
she had to agree with his impeccable logic. “So, we remain in
London until we uncover who is trying to harm me and until we can jog
my husband’s memories.” Just the idea that he might recover
enough of his recollections to be able to go home into someone else’s
care tore at her. Gracious, surely she wasn’t foolish enough to
form an attachment to her temporary spouse!

“What a disaster my
visit to London is turning out to be.”

“What can you expect
with your hare-brained ideas about coming to London?” Typical of
Foster, he offered her a scolding instead of commiseration.

Mr. Mason ended the
discussion by saying, “Give me two weeks. By then, I hope to have
made some progress in this investigation.” With a reassuring smile,
he said, “And if we’re lucky, your husband will have recovered at
least some of his memory.”

Tally wondered why that
sounded more like a threat to her, than something to wish for?

* * *

“Look at this one.
Don’t you think the pink will look good on you?

Ugh! Did Venetia know
her so little, she thought Tally should wear a washed out pale pink
dress? It was disheartening to think her sisters had no idea who she
was or what she liked.

“Venetia! She’s
debuting this Season. She has to wear white!” Milana led the way to
a row of cardpaper forms with white dresses displayed on them,
obviously set up to entice debutantes at the start of the Season.

Tally didn’t bother
saying anything. She just walked right past both the pink dress and
the white ones, and aimed straight for a darker aquamarine dress in
another section of the showroom. Now here was a dress she’d be
proud to wear!

“No no, you can’t
wear that!” Venetia brushed past it, designating it to the
discarded list with a careless sweep of her hand.

“Why not?” she
heard the truculence in her tone. Shopping with her sisters had never
been a pleasant affair. They tended to treat her like a doll to dress
up the way they pleased.

“It’s too…too…”
Her sister gestured with her hands.

“What Venetia is
trying to say is that it’s not right for a young woman to wear to
her first ball,” Milana explained.

“But it’s
beautiful.” She gazed up at the gown, entranced. “Anyway, my
first ball is at your home so I can probably bend the rules a little,
non pensi
? Oh my, her
Italian side always emerged when talking with her family.

Milana peered at her,
as if she were finally seeing her younger sister for the first time.
“You think this dress is beautiful?”

Puzzled by her manner,
Tally nodded.

“Then you shall try
it on.”

“But–” began
Venetia.

Her sister flashed the
evil eye again.

Powerful weapon, Tally
reflected yet again. Perhaps she should learn to wield the same
maternal eyebrow.

Milana summoned the
owner, Madame Simone, and soon Tally was standing in front of
Madame’s mirror with three stunned pairs of eyes on her. The most
stunned were her own, though her sisters’ were not far behind.

The dress fit
perfectly. You’d swear it was made especially for her.

“Why
cara
,
you are beautiful, even more beautiful than this dress you love.”

“I never knew.”
Venetia’s voice was soft, for once, and held wonder. Suddenly,
embarrassed to have admitted never noting her little sister’s
beauty, she began refuting it. “Not that I–” She saw there was
no point in pretending she hadn’t really noticed much about her
youngest sister. “I never realized,
bella.
Mi spacie
. I am so sorry.”

A lump rose in Tally’s
throat. She’d missed this affection her sisters used to shower her
with when she was much younger. Before Great Aunt Ida had come to
rescue them, when — as a mere child — she’d had to work so hard
growing a garden to ensure they all had something to eat. (
Not
that they’d ever noticed her doing that either.
) Before
she had begun to resent their careless attitude to life and the
financial trials their father put them all through. And before she’d
begun to feel bitter about their mother’s tolerant acceptance of
the situation.

Unable to say anything
for fear of bursting into tears, she patted Venetia’s arm.

Milana stroked Tally’s
cheek with the back of her fingers and said, “Cara, you’re the
most stunning of the Lawtons. How did we miss it?” They stood back
and gawked at her like she was a Michelangelo painting in an art
gallery, while Madame preened when other clients murmured how
striking Tally looked in the dress.

Embarrassed yet
pleased, she wondered what Reed was going to say when he saw her in
this dress. Would he think her beautiful?

Milana lifted up
another dress she was carrying over her arm and said, “Why don’t
you try this one on too. Madame has made up some gowns ahead of time
to be ready for the crowd once the Season begins. If you like it,
which I think you will, you can wear this one for your first party,
and,” pointing to the aquamarine one Tally had on, “have this
beauty ready for another outing.”

She looked at the
creamy white almost transparent confection. She did like the pale
coquelicot
-colored
under slip. Subtle but, also, quite beautiful. Ready to compromise
and with thoughts of Reed’s reaction running through her head, she
put her hand out to take the dress and went back into the changing
room. She’d never bought evening gowns like these before. Running
her hand down the smooth silky material, she decided an extra one
wouldn’t hurt.

She was measured for
the creamy one, but when it came to the aquamarine gown, Madame
demurred, “Oh, but that one is just for show. I will make another
one just for you.”

“This one fits her
superbly. We want to take it with us now. Can you not make another
one for show?” Venetia insisted.

Tally knew her sister
was thinking they’d better take it now or she might change her
mind.

“Yes, of course.”
Madame was no fool and saw it was in her interests to please three
women who would continue to shop here for years to come.

Minutes later, Tally
walked out of the shop with her delighted sisters. She was in an
ebullient mood. So much so that she agreed to their suggestion to go
to Gunter’s for an ice treat. To see more of London, and not have
to worry about having no companion, would be lovely.

“Let’s walk.”
Venetia suggested. “Give your packages to John. He will put them in
the carriage and it will follow us. It’s far too nice a day not to
take advantage of it.”

That gave Tally pause.
Should she take the risk of walking without Foster or Mr. Mason
around to guard her? Glancing behind, she noted her oldest sister’s
two footmen following behind them on foot. Surely they should be safe
enough. Also, she’d only ever been attacked in the vicinity of
Monsieur Moreau’s studio and today they were nowhere near that
area.

They were strolling
along the street toward Berkley Square, when from behind them, they
heard, “By all that is wonderful. Countess Hargrave and Mrs.
Courtney. How fortuitous to meet you like this.”

An elegant young man
with a charming smile hailed them. Fascinated by his wheaten locks
that framed an angelic face of great beauty, Tally was hard put not
to stare. He’d make a wonderful subject for one of those religious
paintings of saintly beings ascending to heaven. She had never
attempted to do one, but was suddenly filled with the possibility.
Luckily, the young man’s attention was trained on her sisters and
she managed to tear her gaze away before he noticed her fascination.

“Mr. Dubuc. So good
to see you,” Venetia said, sharing a sly grin with Milana that
baffled Tally.

Milana added, “We’re
on our way to Gunter’s, would you care to join us?”

“But of course,
avec
plaisir
.” He looked at Tally and bowed. “And I’m
certain this must be your youngest sister. She looks very much like
both of you.”

Her sisters looked
pleased at the comment. No doubt due to their recent realization she
was not a hopeless antidote.

“Yes, this is our
sister, Miss Lawton.” Venetia agreed and to Tally she said, “And
this is Victor Dubuc, Monsieur Moreau’s nephew.”

Tally was taken aback.
She’d only just remembered his existence and here he was! Had she
remembered him sooner, she could have tried to contact him weeks ago
to ask about Monsieur. Her first reaction was to ask him where his
uncle was, but she didn’t want her sisters to know she’d
maintained contact with Monsieur. They would want to know why.
“Pleased to meet you.”

Maybe later, when her
sisters weren’t paying attention, she could casually bring up the
matter of his uncle’s whereabouts.

“My dear, Miss
Lawton.” Taking her hand, he bowed low, brushing his lips over the
top of it. “Your servant.”

At his practiced touch,
a frisson of awareness wriggled up her arm. It was good that she
wasn’t given to giggling like her sisters sometimes did around
personable gentlemen.

She smiled warmly at
him then gently retrieved her hand. Turning to her sisters, she said,
“Shall we go on?”

They continued along
their way to the renowned cafe, with Mr. Dubuc entertaining them with
the latest
on-dits.

“I expected you both
to be in Paris by now,” he said to her sisters. “Weren’t you
supposed to spend the Season in Paris?”

“We’ve delayed it
for awhile because of our sister’s arrival in London.”

A few minutes later,
her sisters walked on a bit ahead of them casting knowing looks over
their shoulders. Tally mentally rolled her eyes at their blatant
matchmaking, but she wasn’t about to waste her opportunity. Turning
to Mr. Dubuc, she lowered her voice and asked, “How is your uncle,
sir.” She almost addressed him as “Monsieur” but he sounded so
English, she opted for an English mode of address.

“He is fine,
mademoiselle
. Thank
you for asking.” He paused then and, as if he knew she’d been
seeking his uncle, added, “He is away from London at the moment. A
dear friend of his is under the weather and he’s gone to visit
him.”

So
it was true.
At first, she was relieved to hear it. Soon,
though, she began to question why, if the explanation was so
straightforward, Monsieur had not bothered to leave her a letter upon
his departure. He knew the day she was due to arrive in London. It
was unlike him to fail to let her know.

They caught up with her
sisters at the tea shop and elected to have their ices outdoors.
While Mr. Dubuc continued entertaining them, she mulled it over and
found she was not comforted by his explanation of where his uncle had
gone. Nor was she feeling any happier about it when she bid him adieu
later outside the tea shop.

She was thinking of
asking Mr. Mason to arrange for her to accidentally run into Mr.
Dubuc again. She wanted... needed to look into this further. Then, as
they bid him good day, Venetia mentioned seeing him at her gathering.

At least she’d no
longer waste her time going to Monsieur Moreau’s studio. Obviously
he was gone. The question was — why and had he had gone willingly?