Fascination -and- Charmed (34 page)

“Where
is
the coach?” Mama said. “In London one never has to wait for one’s coach at such times.”

“We’ve never exactly
had
such times as these in London,” Grace reminded her mother gently. “And poor Angus Creigh is doing his best, I’m sure. Princes Street seems as busy as Bond Street, and we’ve taken so long with our errands.”

“Kennedy’s gone for Angus,” Melony said. “They’ll be along soon enough.” Dressed in a brilliant blue pelisse and a matching bonnet of crepe with a flaring brim trimmed in swansdown, she swayed and smiled and looked, Grace decided, perfectly charming. Why, every gentleman who passed looked their way to see Melony.

“There’s Angus,” Melony said, moving closer to the edge of the flag-way.

The handsome black town coach bearing the Stonehaven coat of arms rolled to a stop before them. Kennedy, a prim, humorless maid Lady Cuthbert had made available to Grace, alighted and promptly disappeared back into the glove-maker’s establishment from which they had most recently departed.

Angus climbed down from the box. “Let’s get ye settled inside, ladies,” he said. Apparently Stonehaven had insisted that his own most trusted coachman should convey Grace wherever she needed to go—a thought that made her glow.

He
did
care. And regardless of Mairi’s dire predictions of disaster if Grace did not cry off entirely, she was determined to pursue her course of teaching the noddycock to admit his love for her.

Of course, there was the matter of her discovery that he’d made an allotment for her trousseau and that it was strictly limited. That, Mama had informed her stridently, did not suggest a generous heart on the part of Grace’s fiancé—a matter that must be remedied as soon as possible.

“There ye are,” Angus said when he had his charges settled. “No doubt there’s a mountain o’ finery to be taken along wi’ ye.”

Grace hurried to reassure the old man. “Not a mountain at all. Very few things, really.” There had been a rather embarrassing moment at the dressmaker’s when it became evident that the budget for Grace’s gowns would mean she must choose with great care and trim whatever corners could be trimmed.

Angus set off in the direction of the shop.

“Really,” Mama said. “That man speaks as if he were a
relation.
Such familiarity on the part of servants should not be tolerated. Your sister agrees with me, Mrs. Pincham, I can tell you that.”

“You and Theodora appear to be fast friends,” Melony said.

“I admire her deeply.”

“As she does you,” Melony responded.

Grace allowed the chatter to flow over and around her. Before long, Angus and Kennedy returned with those items that could be immediately transported, and they set off for Charlotte Square.

“The wedding dress is a dreadful disappointment,” Mama said. “Not at all what I had in mind for my only daughter. But then, one becomes accustomed to disappointment when one is alone in the world and dependent upon but one child—and a
daughter—
to provide for one’s small need for happiness.

Melony said nothing, and neither did Grace. The wedding gown—the style and materials having been already picked out by Lady Cuthbert before Grace arrived—was made overly fussy by a profusion of inexpensive flounces and bows.

They swept past the elegant curves of Edinburgh’s crescents where houses, three and four stories high, touched shoulders in a most agreeably complementary way. White stone steps, flanked by glossy black railings, rose to mahogany doors sporting highly polished knockers and letter boxes. Edinburgh’s servants were less well dressed than those in London, but they appeared ruddy-faced and cheerful as they went about their business.

The Charlotte Square house was reached by driving around a pretty garden at the center of the square. Daffodils and narcissus nodded their cheerful heads in a warm breeze, and attentive nannies watched their small charges gambol on the grass. Beech trees, their new leaves bright green and trembling, spread lofty shadows over clumps of stubby crab apple trees. Spring’s warm, fragile scent was in the air.

The thought that this was a place Stonehaven knew well made it engrossing to Grace. The house—referred to by Lady Cuthbert as overly modest—had been his Edinburgh home when he was a single young man coming and going from Scotland in the service of the king. “In the days before Stonehaven became so very strange,” Lady Cuthbert had said ominously. “Forgive me, Grace. I should not speak so carelessly, but I am concerned for your happiness—and your well-being.”

A small knot of apprehension formed in Grace’s stomach, but she refused to allow it to shake her conviction that her marriage would be a blessed event. She had made great progress with Stonehaven—even if he didn’t appear to have noticed the fact—and she would continue to make progress.

She missed him.

Grace felt startled. A week ago she’d been ready to dash back to England and try to forget she’d ever met him. Now she was actually grateful for Mama’s rash behavior and ... “Oh, dear.”

“What did you say?” Melony asked as they arrived at Stonehaven’s house.

“I said,
oh dear,
”
Grace said. “I will not pretend to you, Melony. I am surprised to find myself so committed to my marriage with Stonehaven.” And she was also surprised to find herself remembering Mama’s frightful gambling disaster without cringing. Really, she had changed terribly much in a few weeks.

Grace became aware that Melony was staring at her, and smiled. “I’m sorry. I’m blatherin’, as Mairi would say. But I’m happy, Melony. Truly happy. I am convinced that Stonehaven and I shall have a congenial life together.”

Angus handed Blanche down, but Melony hung back. “Tell me, Grace, why are you so certain of this?”

“Assisted by your insights into the opposite sex, I have had a revelation. Men in general are very susceptible to women. Given that situation, and adding Stonehaven’s commitment to our match, success is inevitable because I intend to ensure that he views me kindly. I am going to be so considerate of him that he will come to bless the day I came into his life.”

An unusual expression entered Melony’s face. She seemed to stare through Grace as if she weren’t there at all. Then she started and smiled. “I’m sure he will. Come, Grace, let us prepare for the musicale. Thank goodness it is in Charlotte Square. I don’t give a fig for Theodora’s opinion. I consider this among the most desirable locations in Edinburgh.”

“I’m not sure I want to go. They say Sir Walter Scott may be there, and any number of other important people.”

“You will enjoy yourself.” Finally Melony allowed a footman to assist her from the carriage, and Grace followed. “Wear the red this evening.”

“Oh, no!” Instantly Grace collected herself. “I mean, I am exceedingly grateful to you for giving me the gown, but it will need some slight alterations before I can wear it.” The bodice alone needed a number of inches removed, and the waist did not fit as it should.

“I’ll have Kennedy do what’s necessary,” Melony said. “She shall come to you at once. Mrs. Wren is looking forward to the event. So is Theodora, and so am I.”

Grace saw her mother disappear into the house. “I’ll think about it,” she said. What she wished to do was be alone to think about Stonehaven and how she would pursue her quest to overcome his ill humor as soon as she got back to the castle.

“We shall leave promptly at eight,” Melony announced, falling back to follow Grace up the front steps.

In the pale green entrance hall, Grace paused beside a brass vase overflowing with white lilac that sat upon a demilune mahogany side table. She tried to decide how she could manage to remain at home this evening.

“Don’t forget it’s to be the red,” Melony said, passing through an archway leading to the inner hall. “Since you did not bring the marvelous jewels Stonehaven gave you, I shall lend you my pearls.”

Grace arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Melony walked ahead now.

“I shall not go to the musicale.” Grace jumped at the sound of her own clear voice.

Melony paused, then turned around. “Don’t be a silly goose. Of course you will.”

“No. No, I’ve decided to remain here.”

Slowly Melony descended until she stood a single step above Grace. “I don’t know what to say. He will be so disappointed.”

Grace frowned. “Who will be disappointed?”

“Why, Stonehaven, of course.”

“He will not know. And anyway, he also would not care. He did not even particularly want me to come to Edinburgh at all.”

“That was all an act,” Melony said. Finger by finger she removed her gloves. “And he will know because he has instructed a certain party to take note of your every move.”

“What certain party?”

“All I know is that there is someone who was appointed to the position.”

Grace swallowed and pressed a hand to her stomach. “But
why
does Stonehaven care if I go to this musicale?”

“Because, my dearest little friend ...” Melony bowed her head. “It pains me to say this, but it is for your own good. Stonehaven is resigned to the match, but he is concerned at your lack of ... shall we say, social savoir faire?”

“Oh,” Grace said softly.

“Yes, well, to that end—to correct the deficiency—he regards it as most important for you to become exposed to situations in which a marchioness should be more than comfortable.”

“Such as the musicale?” Grace asked, annoyed that her voice was so small.

“Such as the musicale. You are tired, Grace. Rest for a while. But if you wish to prove to your future husband that you will do anything to please him, and make him proud of you, you will attend this evening’s affair.”

“I see. And I’m to wear the red satin?”

“The red satin.”

“Very well.” Grace climbed past Melony and continued up. “I shall be ready at eight.”
For Stone
haven
’
s sake alone.

Calum and his gray had covered some miles before Arran finally sighted his friend’s flying cloak. Arran half-closed his eyes against the wind that tore at his face and closed distance until he drew within yards of the gray.

“Stop!” Arran shouted.

Calum looked over his shoulder, but urged his horse on.

Arran grimaced and leaned into Allegro’s neck until he drew alongside Calum’s mount.

“Stop,” Arran demanded again.

Calum ignored him.

Leaning dangerously, Arran caught at the reins of Calum’s horse.

“In God’s name!” Calum cursed loudly. “You’ll unseat me, man.”

“If that’s what it takes to find out what’s afoot here, so be it.” With a mighty yank, Arran brought the gray rearing to a halt.

“There is no time for chitchat,” Calum said through his teeth. “Go back. I’ll do what must be done.”

Arran controlled his own skittering mount. “Enough of this gammon. Out with it, Calum. What is it that you are
not
to tell me?”

“I swore I would not reveal the source of my information.”

“Your first allegiance is to me. That aside, I overheard much of what you spoke of with MacFie. Only the details remain unknown to me.”

“Very well,” Calum said. “Anything, as long as what must be done is done. Grace is to attend a musicale at the Muirs’ this evening. There is a strong possibility that she will be lured away and ... and seduced. Even riding as fast as we can, there’s a chance we’ll be too late.”

Arran shifted to see Calum’s face more clearly. “The devil you say.” Calum wasn’t given to idle invention. “Are you sure?”

“No. But I’m damned afraid I should be.”

“Lured away by whom?”

“You will have to know eventually. Hector told me he’d ... he was in the way of being in a position to overhear an exchange between Melony Pincham and your damnable cousin Mortimer. The subject of their conversation concerned you.”

“So why didn’t Hector come to me direct?”

“Because he was afraid you might ask for particulars.”

“Explain,” Arran said. “Quickly.”

Calum bowed his head. “The fool has made some mistakes, not that they should matter. He had been with Lady Cuthbert in her chamber. To be precise, he was in the dressing room between that chamber and Sir Mortimer’s. Lady Cuthbert was—er—
resting
. Hector overheard Melony talking to Mortimer.”

“In
his
chamber?”

Calum shrugged. “Busy people, Sir Mortimer and Lady Cuthbert.”

“I’m damned,” Arran muttered. “Surely Hector misunderstood. Mortimer’s a fool, but he’d hardly risk being overheard while he was plotting the seduction of
my
fiancée.”

“Mortimer and Pincham were—” Calum cleared his throat “—in the throes of passion, so to speak.”

Arran sat perfectly still. Then he gave a short laugh. “Mortimer and La Pincham? In the
throes?
”

“Exactly. And quite something to behold, from what I could gather. Evidently Hector had been ... he’d been taking a nap. Mortimer and Pincham must have come in and not had any idea that Lady Cuthbert and Hector were ... Anyway, when Hector went into the dressing room, Mortimer’s door wasn’t quite shut. Pincham’s into pain. Silk bonds and flagellation. She likes to be hurt.”

“And Mortimer—?” His cousin’s appetite for sex had never been in question, but Arran had always assumed him to be the passive type who would take his pleasure with leisurely command. “Mortimer? By God, Calum, Pincham’s his wife’s sister!”

“If you ask me, the sister thing adds to the spice for Mortimer’s type. Anyway, they were in the thick of it all when Pincham suddenly says that Mortimer should regard what they’re doing as practice for what he’s to do to Grace.”

Arran’s gut snapped in. “I would kill ... The fact that Melony said that—if she did—doesn’t mean they would ever really attempt such a perversion.”

“They will, I tell you.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“
Believe
it.” Calum’s horse skittered sideways. “I’m going to Edinburgh.” He began to ride.

Arran tucked his heels into Allegro’s sides. “Mortimer’s a greedy fool, but he wouldn’t risk this.”

“I think he will. This is his last desperate chance to get what he’s spent years lusting for.”