A Change of Fortune (36 page)

Nadia wore white, and as always she looked very beautiful. Her hat was of white fur, and her pelisse had the same fur on its collar, cuffs, and hem. Her hands were plunged deep into a white fur muff, and the only relief from this dazzling whiteness came from the amethyst-studded gold brooch pinned to her breast.

Dorothea gave an irritated sigh as Nadia leaned forward yet again to see if they were almost there. “Do you
really
believe Edward Longhurst is about to make an honest woman of you?”

“The note he sent last night—”

“Said absolutely nothing. It was a lot of words which conveyed no real information at all. He missed his vocation; he should have gone into politics.”

Nadia flushed a little. “You are just furious that Lord Palmerston was seen out last night with Lady Cowper again.”

“I’m nothing of the sort. I was tired of him anyway.”

“Really?”

“I hardly think you are in a position to throw stones, my dear, for Edward Longhurst is no safe anchoring ground, of that you may be sure.”

“I’m satisfied that before today is out I will be his wife.”

“Then you are very easily satisfied,” replied Dorothea acidly. “May I remind you that you were once equally as satisfied that the Duke of Thornbury would come up trumps?”

“I’ve heard nothing from him since he lied to me just before leaving town. Lies and silence are not the actions of an ardent lover. I’ve already forgotten him. My future now lies with Edward.”

“For your sake I trust you are right, but let me warn you of one thing. I will brook no trouble from you, I want no requests for my intervention, no embarrassing scenes, and no covert attempts to do anything to Leonie Conyngham, for in my experience covert too easily becomes overt, and I’ve risked too much already where you are concerned. I have my own reputation to consider, and it may be irreparably damaged if I pay heed to you anymore. Do anything, anything at all, Nadia, and I will cut you, do you hear me?”

Nadia was seething with anger, “Oh yes, Dorothea,” she said icily, “I hear you. Well, you’ve served your purpose as far as I’m concerned, and now you can go to the devil.”

Dorothea quivered with fury, but she bit back any further retort and looked away. Not another word passed between the cousins as the carriage drove along the avenue of oaks toward the house. The horses kicked up slush now, and from time to time the wheels splashed through puddles. As the carriage passed the lake, there was an occasional flash of sunlight upon water, as the ice began to melt.

* * *

The noise and bustle at the front of the house drew Edward to look out. There were carriages arriving all the time now, and he saw Nadia and Dorothea alight from theirs. Close by, the shoot was gathering, a large number of men and gun dogs, and Guy’s keepers explaining the lie of the land and the sport they could all expect. But none of this activity in the foreground really caught Edward’s interest, for he quickly noticed a solitary figure in the distance, walking along the far shore of the lake. It was Leonie. He recognized her because she had flung back the hood of her cloak and the sun was shining on her silvery hair. So, he pondered, for the moment at least nothing more could happen, for she was out on her own and Guy was away somewhere inspecting bridges. Imogen had yet to be informed of the interesting events in the library, but she would be told the moment she deigned to wake up. There were times, he thought, toying with the stolen earrings in his pocket, when his sister almost deserved to lose de Lacey to the schoolteacher.

He heard the door open and close softly behind him, and he turned to see Nadia standing there, her magnificent figure outlined by the clinging folds of her white muslin gown. He smiled and held out his hand to her. She came quickly into his arms, her lips full and warm as she kissed him. Her perfume enveloped him as he drew her close. Today was the day Rupert had set for his revenge, but Rupert wasn’t even here yet. Was he still so cocksure that he thought he could turn up when he chose and produce his special license? Did he intend to make a dramatic appearance at five minutes to midnight, with a clergyman in tow, and then make sure of his revenge with barely seconds to spare? Yes, that was probably how he meant to do it, but he had reckoned without the craft of his opponent. Midnight would come and go, and Nadia Benckendorff would still not be Duchess of Thornbury, but then, nor would she be the future Countess of Wadford either…. Until the witching hour, though, she was still of interest, and in the meantime he had every intention of enjoying the charms she used so calculatingly to further her ambitions.

Imogen was at last awake, and she was sitting up in bed when her maid showed Edward in. “Edward? To what do I owe the pleasure of such an early visit?”

“Early? Dear girl, it’s gone midday.”

“Since I intend to dance until dawn tonight, I think I deserve to be lazy.”

“That isn’t all you might deserve. I must speak with you in private.”

She waved the maid away and then looked curiously at him. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Rupert Allingham has married Nadia Benckendorff after all.”

“No, but unless you take a few precautions, dear creature, you’ll forfeit de Lacey to Leonie Conyngham after all.”

Her blue eyes sharpened. “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, perhaps because I witnessed a very tender and passionate scene in the library early this morning.”

She stared at him. “I cannot believe that they did anything while you were present.”

“They didn’t know
I
was there, they left the door ajar. You have much to fear, Imogen, for although she is intending to do the right thing, as they say, and has told him she’s leaving first thing in the morning, I wouldn’t bank on it if I were you.
She
may intend going, but I’m not so sure he intends letting her.”

Imogen had gone very pale now. “Are you quite sure of what you saw?”

He gave a brief laugh. “Quite sure. It was no mere peck on the cheek, it was a full-blooded kiss. To be sure, it made me feel quite hot.”

Her eyes flashed. ‘This is no time for your notion of clever humor!”

“It wasn’t humor, it was wistfulness,” he replied smoothly, “for I’d have paid handsomely to have been in his place.”

Furiously she flung back the bedclothes and got out of the bed. “Yes, you’d have paid ten thousand guineas!”

“Correction, I’d have
won
ten thousand guineas.”

“Damn you, Edward, can’t you be serious for once? I’ve just woken up on the day I’m to be betrothed, and you tell me Guy has been making love to Leonie Conyngham! The very least you can do is be helpful, instead of just cynical.”

“My dear, I’m about to be very helpful indeed, far more helpful than your present mood deserves.”

“What do you mean?” She looked quickly at him.

He took the earrings from his pocket and held them aloft so that they glittered. “The schoolteacher is wearing the matching necklace tonight.”

“Oh no,” breathed Imogen, “for she will be out of this house before then!”

“How do you intend to achieve that? Will you bundle her out in person, with all the guests looking on in astonishment? No, I think not, especially when there is another way. Guy opened the secret cupboard in front of her—”

“What secret cupboard?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you know? Well, Leonie Conyngham now does, that’s for sure. It’s in the library—he keeps his mother’s jewels there. Leonie chose a necklace to wear tonight, and then they were…er, sidetracked….”

“Oh, do get on with it!” she snapped.

“Well, she left him, and then almost immediately his agent arrived, twittering about a collapsing bridge somewhere, and he and Guy left to examine it. Guy left the key of the cupboard on the table.”

“And so you took the earrings.”

“Correct. It would seem to me a simple matter to hide them somewhere in her room and then choose an opportune moment on Guy’s return to accuse her of theft. She will be sweetly compromised, and I don’t think her protestations of innocence will win him over on this occasion.”

At that moment Imogen thought she heard a sound from the next room. “Someone’s there!” she whispered urgently, going to the door. But the room was empty. Slowly she turned back to him. “I could have sworn I heard a noise. If someone should have heard—”

“Well, they didn’t, did they? Now then, I’m anxious to get rid of these earrings as quickly as possible, and since Leonie is at this moment still out walking—she has a great deal on her mind, you understand—I think it an ideal moment for us to secrete these somewhere in her rooms.”

“Us? I see no reason for me to—”

“The brat is in the next apartment, I’ll need you to keep watch.”

Imogen took a deep breath and then reluctantly nodded. “Very well. But it must be done quickly. I don’t want to risk being seen.”

Shortly afterward, they slipped along the passage to Leonie’s door. The house was full of noise and bustle now, but it was quiet where they stood. After glancing quickly all around, they slipped into the empty apartment. Imogen hurried quickly to the folding door into Stella’s rooms. It was tightly closed, and there was no sound from beyond it. Edward looked quickly around for a suitable place to conceal the earrings, then smiled as his glance fell on a many-branched candelabrum standing on a table. He removed two of the candles, dropping an earring into each holder and then replacing the candles. Imogen’s eyes gleamed and she smiled; then they both slipped out again.

* * *

It was almost dark now, and there was a torrent of water roaring beneath the arches of Hartwell Bridge. Torches flickered on the bridge and along the riverbanks as the men watched the engineer, who had at last arrived from London, being slowly lowered on a makeshift cradle to examine the center piers. Guy leaned wearily back against the trunk of a tree, his top hat pulled forward and his heavy cloak drawn tightly about him. The ground was soft and wet now, and there was a dampness in the air which seemed to seep right through him. The roar of the water was deafening, and the dancing torches looked demonic in the encroaching darkness. He watched as the engineer gave the stonework a minute examination, his lantern held close, his cloak billowing in the bitter draft of icy air sweeping up from the foaming, thundering torrent sweeping by barely inches beneath the cradle. At last he had finished and signaled to be raised once more. Guy straightened, leaving his place by the tree to go and hear what the man had to say.

“Well? Is it safe?” The noise of the river almost drowned his voice.

* * *

As darkness fell at Poyntons, the house was ablaze with lights. The guests had nearly all arrived, and everyone was preparing for the ball. Among the guests who hadn’t yet arrived was Rupert, Duke of Thornbury, a fact which Edward, glancing shrewdly at the time, was careful to note. There were others who noted it too, and there was much talk about the bets at White’s.

The hour of the ball arrived at last, but there was still no sign of Rupert or of Guy. Imogen, wearing a gown of sheer silver-blue gauze sprinkled with tiny satin spots, took up her place at the foot of the ballroom steps, greeting each guest who entered. She murmured excuses for Guy, mentioning his anxiety about a dangerous bridge, and she was, to all intents and purposes, the mistress of the house. She looked magnificent, her red hair dressed up exquisitely beneath a turban around which was twisted a long string of pearls, and there was something about her tonight which struck everyone who saw her, an air of almost exultant anticipation which shone most noticeably in her blue eyes. Everyone put it down to the imminence of her betrothal to Guy, but Edward, dancing with Nadia, knew that it was the prospect of at last striking out Leonie Conyngham.

Nadia danced on air, and she had never looked more beautiful than she did tonight, the hundreds of sequins on her white gown flashing in the light from the chandeliers. Her golden hair was adorned with a jeweled comb, and there were opals at her throat and in her ears. She moved gracefully to the music, constantly seeking Edward’s eyes and smiling yearningly at him. Tonight he would be hers, he had whispered so, he had left no doubt at all….

Leonie and Stella appeared at last in the entrance of the ballroom, looking over the crowded floor, where jewels flashed against pale throats and tall plumes swayed, and where the dark velvet evening dress of the gentlemen formed the perfect foil for the delicate pastel shades worn by the ladies. The strains of the orchestra rose sweetly above the babble of conversation, and it seemed that even without Guy’s presence the ball was a resounding success.

Stella’s hand crept nervously into Leonie’s, and Leonie smiled down at her, thinking that she looked particularly pretty in her best blue velvet dress, a golden locket given to her by Guy around her throat.

Leonie wore her white silk gown again, but this time it was enhanced by the beautiful diamond necklace, which looked quite perfect, as she had instinctively known it would. Her hair was dressed up into a knot, and once again there were several long curls tumbling down from it, just as she always liked. She took a deep breath and then squeezed Stella’s hand before nodding at the waiting master of ceremonies. His staff rapped upon the marble floor and he announced their names. There was a brief stir of interest and many faces turned quickly toward the steps, but then the moment was over and they were forgotten again.

At the foot of the steps, Imogen turned slowly to look up at them both. There was no smile on her lips and her eyes were like ice. She watched as they slowly descended, and at the last moment she turned away. They walked past without being formally greeted, and they were the only two in the whole room to have been dealt such a snub.

The snub had not passed unnoticed, for a number of people had witnessed it, including Edward, who thought his sister’s action very foolish, for it drew attention to the fact that there was some acrimony between herself and Leonie. People were not dull-witted; they would put two and two together and arrive at the correct answer. Soon it would be being whispered that Imogen Longhurst was jealous of the schoolteacher, and Imogen would have only herself to blame on this occasion. He glanced again toward the steps, where Imogen was now all smiles to greet the next guests. She’d never hold a man like Guy de Lacey, she wasn’t clever enough, she couldn’t see beyond the immediate. But Leonie Conyngham was clever without even knowing it, so Imogen was at the crossroads now; one false step and Guy would turn to Leonie forever.