Lady Vixen (41 page)

The
removal to Cavendish Square went smoothly. Christopher, despite his ready agreement
to Simon's demand, had his own reservations. He did not like the idea of taking
advantage of his grandfather, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that
Simon would have been grievously wounded had he refused. And there was the
irritating knowledge that there was no other path open to him.

When
apprised of the plan the next morning at breakfast, Mrs. Eggleston, too, had
reservations, but hers were more of a social nature. "But,
Christopher," she asked, "is it proper? It is for you, but Nicole and
I are no relation at all to Lord Saxon. Might people talk of us living in his
house?"

It
was a valid question, one Christopher had not considered. Mrs. Eggleston
provided more than adequate chaperonage for Nicole while she lived under his
care, but who was to provide that same act for Mrs. Eggleston while she lived
in Simon's house?

It
was an unusual situation, as neither he nor his grandfather was Nicole's legal
guardian, and there was going to be enough speculation as it was. They
certainly did not need the gossips and scandalmongers wondering about Mrs.
Eggleston's role in the affair. Considering the ages of the two involved, it
was a ridiculous circumstance, but in view of that long-ago engagement—and
there were bound to be people who remembered it!— it was a problem that had to
be resolved.

Fortunately
Simon was more quick-witted than either Mrs. Eggleston or Christopher, and when
Christopher paid him a visit that morning and explained this new complication,
Simon snorted, "Just thought of it, hey? Well, m'boy, I thought of it last
night!" A delightfully smug expression on his lips, Simon continued,
"Made arrangements for m'sister Regina to come for a visit. She's widowed,
y'know, lives in a tidy, little home at Chigwell in Essex. I sent a groom to
her after you left last night, and not above ten minutes ago he arrived back
with her answer. She'll arrive tonight, so everything is right and tight!"

Christopher
returned to Grillions and informed Mrs. Eggleston of Simon's actions. Almost
lovingly she murmured, "So clever of him, but then he always was."
And so the servants began to prepare for the transfer to Cavendish Square.

Nicole
had remained pensive throughout the morning. She could not understand why
Christopher seemed to have no intention of informing the Markhams of her
presence in England. Why? It occurred to her that he might have developed a
fondness for her, but she banished that thought. She was not going to be
mislead by him again!

Nicole
was finding it very easy to drift with the currents created by Mrs. Eggleston
and Christopher. She had lost the will to fight. Her life was a pleasant one
—Mrs. Eggleston, kind and concerned; Mauer, competent and amusing; Christopher,
for the most part considerate, almost avuncular, seeing to all the arrangements.
It was nearly impossible to do anything but what was asked of her—all anyone
demanded was that she dress beautifully and behave charmingly.

She
found it harder and harder to remember the days of
La Belle Garce
and to
recall the hoydenish creature she had been. Even the times that Christopher had
possessed her had taken on a dreamlike quality. She almost believed she was the
demure and quiet young lady she appeared.

Simon
greeted them politely and promptly absented himself, as he hated to see the
household in an upheaval.

By
five o'clock that afternoon the ladies were ensconced in an impressive suite of
rooms on the second floor, each with a separate bedroom and dressing room. They
shared a handsome sitting room, decorated in soft shades of yellow with a striking
deep-toned sapphire-blue rug. Christopher's rooms were down a wide
ruby-carpeted hallway on the opposite side of the house and presumably as
elegant as Mrs. Eggleston's and Nicole's. The servants had their rooms, as did
most of Lord Saxon's staff, on the third floor.

Regina's
arrival that evening, nearly three hours after she was expected, created quite
a stir, for she traveled with a personal maid, a dresser, and her very own page
boy, in addition to her groom and driver.

Lady
Darby was a tall, stiff-backed woman whose features would be described as
handsome rather than beautiful. She had a long nose, a wide mouth and a chin
that brooked no opposition. Like her brother, Simon, she had dark hair, but
while she was some fifteen years the younger, her raven locks were liberally
dusted with strands of silver. Divested quickly of a fashionable pelisse lined
with crushed silk, she was dressed in a gown of deep puce. Her hair, with its
silver wings, was brushed back into a severe, but extremely attractive chignon
that emphasized the magnificent bones of her face. Regina exuded a sense of
majesty and aloofness. But it was all a sham—she was as good-hearted as she was
formidable.

Sweeping
into the drawing room, she exclaimed, "My dears! I am so dreadfully sorry to
be so late, but I simply could not arrive here sooner." Flashing her
brother a teasing glance, she scolded, "Really, Simon, you would think at
your age you would not be so impetuous!" As he spluttered and glared,
Regina wisked across the room to enfold a slightly startled Mrs. Eggleston into
a fond embrace. "Dearest Letitia! How absolutely marvelous to see you
again! How
could
you have departed as you did? It is
so
good to
see you once more, and how wonderful that you are staying with Simon! We will
have plenty of time for several comfortable cozes."

Leaving
Mrs. Eggleston in a state bordering on bemusement, Regina's eye fell upon
Nicole standing politely near a stylishly low sofa of striped satin. "My
dear! What a delightful child you have become! The gentlemen will be living on
our doorstep! You shall be all the rage in no time at all. Oh, I'm going to
enjoy myself, I just know it! I vow that within a fortnight we shan't have an
evening free."

Nicole
was enchanted. What a darling Lady Regina Darby was! She dropped a graceful
curtsy. "Thank you for your gratifying words. It is so kind of you and
Lord Saxon to take us in. I do hope I shan't be a disappointment to you."

"Disappointment?
My dear, I am never disappointed! No one would
dare
disappoint me!"
Regina returned with a twinkle.

As
she turned slowly, Regina's inquiring glance took in Christopher, lounging
carelessly against the mantel. Dressed in his customary black velvet jacket and
light breeches, he was a man to catch any woman's eye. What Regina thought of
him, she did not betray, but only regarded him intently. "Well,
Christopher?" she said coolly, "Have you returned to stay? Or do you
intend to disappear without warning and nearly destroy your grandfather
again?"

"Regina!"
thundered Simon.

"Oh,
my!" gasped Mrs. Eggleston, dismay creeping into her eyes. Everything had
been going so pleasantly, she thought unhappily, only she had forgotten
Regina's
very
forthright tongue.

Nicole,
standing just a bit away from the others, viewed the unfolding scene with more
than a little interest. Captain Saber, as she still occasionally thought of
Christopher, had always been an enigma to her, and try as she might, she could
not remember ever meeting him at Beddington's Corner, although she knew she
must have. She was intensely curious about him, and this was her first chance
to learn more of his shrouded past. So it wasn't at all strange that she
watched closely as Christopher, apparently not disturbed at all by his
great-aunt's barbed words, bowed and, with a mocking smile curving his
beautiful mouth, said smoothly, "I've just returned. Do you think it
apropos to greet me with concern about my departure?"

"Touch
é
!
I'll
grant you this, young man, you've certainly become a very handsome devil with a
glib tongue. But don't try to bamboozle me!" Regina retorted tartly. And
as Simon opened his mouth, she turned on him, exclaiming, "Oh, shush, my
love! We are all family and families
always
ask embarrassing questions!
Come now, in vulgar parlance—feed me! I vow, I am positively starving to
death!"

The
evening passed swiftly, as Regina regaled them with gossip. She asked few
questions about their sudden arrival, and she appeared to take their opportune
meeting at face value. But Christopher was very wary of Lady Darby; he sensed
that his aunt was the least likely to swallow the tale without reservations.
Several times he was aware of a speculative, appraising gleam in her dark eyes
when she regarded him.

Christopher
found sleep elusive that night; a sense of frustration and doubt churning
inside him. I must be the most arrogant fool alive, he thought disgustedly, to
have believed I could return to England, divest myself of Nicole and Mrs.
Eggleston as if they were a bit of troublesome baggage, deceive my grandfather,
ferret out the plans for an attack on New Orleans, and then blithely sail away.

The
next morning he and Simon had planned to stroll down to St. James Street; Simon
wished to show off his grandson at the various men's clubs to be found there.
But when Christopher descended for breakfast, he found a hand-delivered note
waiting for him. After scanning it quickly he frowned. Why would Alexander
Baring want to see him as soon as possible? Then he shrugged, he'd find out
soon enough.

Seeking
out Simon, he made his excuses and left for the Baring residence in the city.
Arriving at the Baring house some minutes later, he was shown into the library,
where Baring was conversing with a middle-aged man. They were seated
comfortably in two high-backed chairs of red Moroccan leather, and as
Christopher entered Baring rose to his feet.

"So
good of you to come this soon. I hoped you would. But come, I have what I
believe will be a pleasant surprise for you!" So saying, Baring led
Christopher over to the older man who had remained seated.

"Albert,
this is the gentleman I was speaking of. Monroe, I might add, writes highly of
him. Christopher Saxon, may I present Mr. Albert Gallatin. Albert, you'll be
interested to know that Saxon arrived here not above two weeks ago from New
Orleans. I'm certain you'll have much to speak of later."

Christopher
stared at Gallatin in astonishment, and after they had shaken hands, he
exclaimed, "Sir! I never expected to see you in London. The last I heard,
you were in St. Petersburg, Russia."

Gallatin
smiled grimly. "So I was—kicking my heels and playing the tourist for
months. As I was accomplishing nothing, Bayard and I decided to leave. I was
hoping that when I arrived here Alexander would have some good news for me, but
it appears that nothing has been done."

Baring
looked uncomfortable. "I've explained in my letters, my government
absolutely refuses mediation. It is felt that foreign interference in our
domestic quarrel is unwarranted. And at least now your Mr. Madison has agreed
to Castlereagh's plan of direct negotiations, so one of our stumbling blocks
has been removed."

Gallatin
grunted. "And the impressment question?" he asked dryly.

Looking
even more uncomfortable, Baring said, "We simply cannot accept your
demands without losing our Navy. It is useless and unrealistic to discuss it as
an abstract question of right when it is one of necessity. Damnit, Albert,
we've been fighting for our lives!"

Gallatin
did not appear moved by Baring's impassioned comments, but Christopher found
them intriguing. The United States had declared war ostensibly because of
impressment of American seamen, and it now seemed that though peace talks were
in the offering, Britain was refusing even to consider that topic in the
negotiations! Coolly Christopher inquired, "You think it right for your
warships to stop our ships on the high seas and take off American citizens,
forcing them to serve in the British Navy?" It was a question that struck
deeply into Christopher's being—hadn't he been impressed himself? If the
experience had embittered him, how much more so must it an American?

Baring
said nothing to Christopher's question. He did not approve of the practice, but
he could do little to stop such activities. And there were British deserters on
those American ships who were needed in the war against Napoleon. Few American
seamen, he felt positive, were actually being taken and he had his doubts that
any had been taken.

It
was Gallatin, a patient and temperate man, who banished the slightly hostile
air that had entered the room by stating calmly, "I don't think it is a
question of right so much as a question of, will it stop?" He gave Baring
a searching glance before continuing, "So we are not to discuss the
impressment issue, yet our two governments have agreed to direct negotiations.
What
are
we to discuss? The weather?"

"I
know,
I know," commented Baring exasperatedly. "I don't have any certain
idea what direction the talks are to take. For the moment I'm content to know
that the way is being made for the negotiations to begin." Smiling, he
added, "You know how these things are."

Gallatin
did indeed know. First there had been the czar's offer of mediation during
which the Americans, according to Ramonzov, the Russian chancellor, had shown
"rather too much ardor in pursuing peace." Now they had agreed to
direct negotiations and appointed a new commission, only to discover that the
British faction had not only not appointed their commission, but also wanted
the site changed. Sometimes he felt they would never get to the peace table at
all. Hence, his and James Bayard's unorthodox visits to England.