Azalea (21 page)

"It is," Azalea stated firmly.

Gathering up the gown, Junie departed to
make the desired changes.

* * *

Two nights later, as Junie put the finishing
touches to her hair, Azalea examined her reflection in the glass
with far more satisfaction. The dress still clung to her body in a
way that emphasized her curves, but the neckline met with her
complete approval.

Junie had done a masterful job of sewing the
gold lace from the bottom flounce around the top of the gown,
making a ruffle that lined the front, shoulders and back, with an
extra layer worked into the area just above her breasts. Azalea
didn't see how anyone would guess the gown had not been originally
designed this way, as the total effect was charmingly artistic.
Perhaps she would create a new fashion.

Pulling on her long, fawn-coloured gloves
and picking up the gold fan Lord Kayce had sent with the gown,
Azalea rose to go.

"Junie, as always, you have done wonders
with my hair. And I say again, if you should ever tire of being a
ladies' maid, you can make your way quite well as a designer of
gowns. Madame Clarisse herself could not have done better, I am
certain."

Junie beamed with pleasure as her mistress
left the room.

Before going out to Lord Kayce's carriage,
which had just driven up, Azalea stepped into the parlour to take
leave of her cousins. Marilyn's eyes widened as she took in the
splendour of her country cousin's attire, and Lady Beauforth, after
looking hard at the gown, exclaimed, "You're as lovely in that gown
as I thought you'd be, my dear! But I thought... no, perhaps I was
wrong. At any rate, you look charming."

It seemed but a few moments later that the
coachman was helping her to descend from the carriage in front of
Lord Kayce's imposing Town residence. Looking up at the uninviting
facade, Azalea hoped it was his own acquisition rather than a
family property and was conscious of renewed gratitude that he had
never suggested she come to live with him here.

Gas lamps burned brightly on either side of
the impressive entrance, but far from denoting hospitality, they
merely served to illumine a particularly evil-looking gargoyle that
leered down from over the front door. Azalea tried not to look at
it as she mounted the steps.

The door opened as she reached it, and she
was announced by a cadaverous-looking butler with a startlingly
deep voice. As her uncle came forward to greet her, Azalea had a
moment to notice that the interior of the house was scarcely more
inviting than the exterior had been. The furnishings were
undeniably expensive and even quite tasteful, but the gas lighting
that Lord Kayce evidently preferred to candlelight threw everything
into weird relief.

"My dear, I am so happy to welcome you to my
home," said Kayce with a smile. "The guests have only just arrived,
and I wish to introduce you to them, if you will accompany me."

Azalea thought he frowned quickly as he
noticed her gown, but he had already turned away before she could
be certain. She wondered why the other guests should be present
already, since she was purportedly here to act as hostess, but
followed her uncle without a word. They advanced into an elegant
and expensively furnished drawing-room, also eerily gaslit, and
three men of about her uncle's age rose to their feet.

"My niece and ward, Miss Azalea Clayton,"
announced Lord Kayce with a flourish. "My dear, allow me to present
Mr. Fienton, Lord Drowling, and Lord Carfax," he said, indicating
each gentleman in turn.

Azalea curtsied deeply, as was proper, but
did not miss the speculation in their eyes. "I am honoured to make
your acquaintance, my lords," she said politely in her soft,
musical voice.

All three gentlemen stepped forward, but
Lord Drowling was the quickest, eagerly seizing her hand to bestow
a lingering kiss upon it. He was tall and coarsely handsome, with
thick brown hair only slightly grey at the temples, and full,
sensuous lips. His dark eyes burned as they met and held her
own.

"The honour is all upon our side, I assure
you, Miss Clayton," he said with a smile that was little less than
a leer. "I had no idea the New World bred such rare and exotic
flowers. Kayce is to be congratulated."

The suggestive tone in which this fulsome
compliment was delivered, coupled with the man's frankly assessing
gaze, made Azalea drop her eyes in confusion. The small amount of
flirting she had done had not prepared her for this. When Lord
Drowling showed no inclination to release her hand, despite a
slight effort on her part to free it, she glanced somewhat
desperately at her uncle.

Lord Kayce intervened smoothly. "Come,
Drowling, you must not monopolize my niece tonight. She is here to
act as hostess, and courtesy demands that she entertain you all
equally."

Though she wondered about her uncle's
meaning, Azalea was relieved that his words prompted Lord Drowling
to release her.

Mr. Fienton and Lord Carfax were now able to
pay their respects. Both of them looked at her in a way that seemed
calculated to unsettle her, though neither went quite so far as
Drowling had done.

"When do you expect the other guests?"
Azalea asked her uncle, devoutly hoping that there would be a few
ladies among them.

"There are to be no other guests. I am sure
I intimated to you that this was to be a small dinner party, so
that you could meet a few of my closest... friends." His smile
somehow failed to reassure her. "In fact, as we are all here, let
us go in to dinner. My dear?"

Lord Kayce held out his arm and Azalea
placed her fingers upon it, trying to stifle her misgivings. She
was relieved, at any rate, that Lord Drowling was not to take her
in to dinner, and hoped that he would not be seated by her at
table.

This hope, at least, was answered, though by
the time the second course was served, she thought that she might
have preferred his conversation to his ogling, as he was placed
directly across from her. She was seated at her uncle's right, with
Mr. Fienton on her other side and Lord Carfax opposite him. They
were in the smaller dining-room, as Lord Kayce had felt this more
appropriate for such a small gathering.

Azalea barely participated in the
conversation, feeling out of place in what seemed more like a
business meeting than a dinner party. Mr. Fienton, a slight,
mousy-looking man with fair hair and watery blue eyes, managed to
engage her in conversation about America for a few minutes, but he
seemed less interested in her replies than in her cleavage. She
found his refusal to meet her eyes both irritating and
disconcerting.

She still had not exchanged more than an
initial greeting with Lord Carfax, but felt no inclination to
further that acquaintance. He appeared to be the oldest of the
group, probably well into his fifties, with heavy black brows and a
cold, almost sinister directness to his gaze.

Whenever Azalea chanced to encounter his
eyes, he regarded her with an intensity that disturbed her, though
not in the same way as the knowing leer of Lord Drowling. She felt
that Lord Carfax, rather, was trying to see inside her, to read her
very thoughts and perhaps control them. She knew these to be mere
fancies, but she could not quite dismiss them.

When Lord Glaedon sent admiring glances her
way, she recalled, she had felt excited, even flattered. But the
expressions of her uncle's friends made her feel soiled.

Thankfully, the meal ended at last, and
Azalea began to cast about for some plausible excuse to leave
early. As it happened, Lord Kayce himself provided her escape,
saying that he was to meet a friend at White's that evening and
would be obliged to turn them all out within the hour.

"But I have scarce had a chance to exchange
two words with your charming niece, Kayce," protested Lord
Drawling. "And I am sure my companions share my eagerness to know
her better."

He stepped to her side as he spoke and
allowed his fingertips to brush her upper arm, where it was bare
between her glove and shoulder ruffle. It took all of Azalea's
control not to shrink away from the man.

"Really, Kayce, Drawling is right. It is
most inhospitable of you to end the evening so early," drawled Mr.
Fienton in his high-pitched monotone. "Can't you send a note round
to White's saying you've been detained?"

"I'm afraid not," replied their host. "But
I'm certain you will have ample opportunity in future to speak with
my niece, as she is permanently fixed in England and will remain in
London at least through the Season."

"Might I offer you my escort home, ma'am?"
Lord Carfax stepped forward as he spoke, his deep voice holding the
same determined intensity as his gaze.

Before she could reply, her uncle answered
for her with a smooth refusal, saying that he had already arranged
to return his niece to her home on his way to White's.

"If any of you would care to meet me there
in, say, two hours, we might have a game of cards or some quiet
conversation," he concluded. At these words, all three gentlemen
looked thoughtful and agreed to see him later.

Azalea was so relieved that she need not
endure being alone in a carriage with Lord Carfax that she scarcely
noticed this exchange.

Graciously taking leave of her uncle's
guests at the front entrance, she stepped into Lord Kayce's
carriage with a sigh that she hoped he did not hear. She had not
really expected to enjoy the evening, but it had been far more
uncomfortable than she had anticipated. She thanked heaven it was
over.

Now that they were alone, she half expected
Lord Kayce to make some comment on her alterations to the gown, but
he did not. "What think you of my friends, my dear?" he asked as
the coachman whipped up the horses. "They all seemed much taken
with you."

"I am most flattered, of course, Uncle
Simon," she replied carefully, not wanting to offend him. "However,
I was rather at a loss to understand why you wished me to be there
at all. No other ladies were present."

"Why, to present you to those most eligible
gentlemen, of course," he replied silkily. "I said that your future
was my concern, did I not? Thus it falls to me to find you a
suitable husband."

With difficulty Azalea suppressed a gasp of
dismay. "I—I am sorry, Uncle Simon, if I gave you the impression
that I wished for your help in that matter. It is most unnecessary,
I assure you."

"Nonsense, nonsense," he said affably. "You
do not wish to end up a spinster, I am certain. As I'm your
guardian, it is plainly my responsibility to ensure that you make
an advantageous marriage."

Azalea bit her lip. Did she dare tell her
uncle the truth? She did not trust him a whit, but even he could
scarcely have an existing marriage set aside for whatever ends he
had in mind. Still, it seemed wrong to tell this man, whom she
neither liked nor trusted, before telling Lord Glaedon himself.
Besides, she had no idea just how ruthless Lord Kayce might be.
Perhaps by telling him she might be putting Christian at some
risk.

Making a quick decision, she said with
assumed casualness, "That reminds me, Uncle, that I have not yet
heard from Mr. Timmons on the matter of your guardianship of me. I
believe I shall call on him Monday. I have certain other matters to
discuss with him as well."

Lord Kayce darted a quick look at her. "What
might... that is, of course, my dear. No doubt he will have the
papers ready for your signature."

Just then, the carriage pulled up before
Beauforth House and Kayce escorted Azalea to the door, though he
declined to come inside. She heard the clatter of his departure
with relief as she stepped into the house.

* * *

Azalea would no doubt have felt less
relieved had she been able to look in at White's later.

"Well, Kayce, I must admit you told no more
than the truth when you described your new-found niece," said Lord
Drowling, as he settled into a chair next to the Baron. "If
anything, you didn't do her justice. It would seem a waste to find
a form and face like that on such an innocent, if one did not
imagine the delights of instructing her. But I assume such a
privilege won't come cheaply?"

"I think you know what I would want in
exchange, Drowling. You have been holding that duel of my brother's
over my head for more than twenty years."

"Ah, but it was such a, er, profitable
investment for me, you see," replied Drowling with a smile. "Though
I admit I had thought its worth to be nearly exhausted... until
now. No doubt your dear niece would be most interested to learn how
her father was deceived. Perhaps she would even be grateful enough
to bestow her hand on me willingly."

Kayce snorted. "When she has every young
buck in London panting after her? Not likely. No, if you want her,
you must work through me. And do not forget that any son of hers
would become my heir. But let us not be hasty. Here come Carfax and
Fienton. I would like to hear what each of them has in mind, as
well."

"With the charming Azalea to go to the
highest bidder, I perceive," said Drowling, with a cynical twist to
his smile. "That golden Aphrodite may well be worth what you ask. I
shall think on it." Rising, the Viscount nodded a greeting to the
two approaching gentlemen and went in search of a game of
whist.

* * *

Directly after breakfast Monday morning,
Azalea made good on her promise to call on Mr. Timmons. She had
already decided to ask for her marriage proofs back, so that she
would have them on hand when Lord Glaedon returned in a few weeks.
She still hoped that she could manage to convince him of the truth
without them, but time was running out. Better to have the evidence
in case she needed it.

She left Junie in the carriage and ascended
confidently to the attorney's offices. Her confidence received a
setback a moment later, however, when she saw the sign on the door
of Mr. Timmons's chambers: Closed Until Further Notice.