My Brown-Eyed Earl (36 page)

*   *   *

“Oh, Julie, it's lovely!” Meg and Beth circled their sister in the dress shop's changing room, admiring her new gown from every angle. Wispy and white with petal sleeves and a shimmering, silver sash, the gown flattered Julie's statuesque figure.

“You look like the goddess Athena,” Beth announced dreamily.

“Be careful,” Julie teased. “Mortals have been turned into spiders for lesser offences.”

Meg sighed a breath of relief. Julie's ball gown had required a few extra alterations, but every farthing they'd spent and every trip they'd made to the modiste had been worth it. She looked exquisite—and happier than Meg had seen her in ages. She'd be the belle of tomorrow night's … er, soiree.

The seamstress carefully lifted the gown over Julie's head. “I'll take this into the back and wrap it for you, miss,” she said, before whisking yards of frothy white silk out of the dressing room.

“We'd better hurry home,” Beth said. “I want to finish up a few chores in the garden.”

“I hope Uncle Alistair's still napping when we return.” Julie presented her back so Meg could lace up her old navy dress. It seemed especially drab and heavy in comparison to the ethereal white one. “I need to straighten one last bookshelf in his study.”

The sisters gathered their reticules and shawls, chatting merrily as they walked out of the changing area and through the front of the shop. Meg picked up the wrapped parcel at the counter, and the shopkeeper smiled broadly. “Thank you, Miss Lacey. I hope your ball is a smashing success.”

Meg cringed. “Actually, it's more of a soir—”

“Miss Lacey?” A stunning woman with dark hair and almond-shaped eyes glided toward Meg. “Miss Margaret Lacey?”

“Yes.” Meg searched her mind for where she might have met the woman and found nary a clue. “Forgive me. Have we met?”

“We haven't. However, I know of you. Please, forgive
me
for being so forward. I'm an old friend of Lord Castleton's.” Meg shook the hand she offered. “My name is Marina.”

A wave of nausea hit her. Meg had no claim on Will but couldn't deny the fierce jealousy that bubbled up inside at the sight of his ex-mistress.

Frown lines marred Marina's face, smooth and flawless in every other respect. Lowering her voice, she said, “I had heard that Lord Castleton was searching for his young wards, the twins. Do you happen to know if he has found them?”

Guilt sliced through Meg. She'd let jealousy consume her, while Marina was clearly concerned about Diana and Valerie's welfare. “Yes,” she assured her. “They're safe at Castleton House.”

“I'm delighted to hear it,” Marina said, her relief palpable. “Especially after all the odd things that have been happening. Perhaps Will, er, Lord Castleton mentioned the strange gentleman to you? The one who's been asking questions about the twins?”

“He did,” Meg lied. So
that
was why Will had met with Marina. She tilted her head, thoughtful. She'd assumed that the twins' ordeal had simply been a result of Lila's neglectful parenting. But was it possible that someone else was involved too? And for perhaps more sinister reasons? “Do you think that the strange incidents are related to the twins' disappearance?”

“I don't know for certain,” Marina admitted. She glanced around the dress shop suspiciously. “But my intuition has never failed me before. Something evil is afoot. You and your sisters should have a care when you're out and about—just in case.”

“Thank you,” Meg said earnestly. “We will. Allow me to introduce my sisters, Elizabeth and Juliette.”

“Please, call me Beth.”

“And I'm Julie.”

“It's a pleasure to meet all of you,” Marina said with a sincere smile. “And I do apologize for interrupting your outing. I haven't any sisters, but if I did, I'd spend at least one day each week just as you are, shopping for gowns, hats, and shoes.”

“Oh, this is a rarity for us,” Beth said, laughing.

“The shopping part,” Julie clarified. “We're always together. It happens to be our motto.”

Meg saw the longing in Marina's dark eyes. It appeared that she suffered a twinge of jealousy, too.

“If you're free tomorrow evening, we're hosting a little soiree at my uncle's house,” Meg blurted. Clearly, she'd lost her wits. “We'd love it if you'd come.”

“A soiree? How wonderful!”

Beth rolled her eyes. “It's actually more of a
ball
.”

 

Chapter
FORTY

 

Everything was ready.

And while Uncle Alistair's humble townhouse would never resemble the grand ballrooms of the ton, it had a charm all its own. Meg preferred the warmth of stuffed bookshelves to high ceilings and the ambiance of flickering candles to glittering chandeliers.

She, Beth, and Julie had pushed most of the furniture to the sides of the rooms, leaving the centers free for guests to mingle … or even dance. They'd placed freshly cut flowers on windowsills and mantels, making the whole house colorful and fragrant.

Though it had rained most of the morning, the clouds parted, leaving Beth's newly revitalized garden damp but refreshingly cool.

Meg smoothed the muted gold bombazine of her new dress, glad she'd opted to purchase something more practical than a ball gown. Her dress didn't float when she walked, like Julie's. It didn't shimmer in the candlelight, like Beth's. But even if it could best be described as
serviceable
, it was new and flattering and far nicer than any other dress she owned.

In less than an hour, when the first guests arrived, she'd greet them with her head held high. She scurried out of her bedchamber and, in a deliciously unladylike display, shouted down the stairs. “Julie? Beth? Do either of you require help with your hair?”

“No, we've finished,” Beth called back from the vicinity of the parlor.

“But a package just arrived for you,” Julie added.

“Coming!” Meg wanted to take one last walk through the rooms and check with the staff to make sure the refreshments were ready.

As she glided down the stairs, the sight of her sisters looking so beautiful and elegant made her breath catch. Her brief stint as a governess in Will's employ may have led to heartbreak and pain, but it had also led to this—a new start for her sisters. She would be forever grateful for that.

“Oh Meg,” cried Beth. “You look lovely!”

“Radiant.” Julie handed her a tidy parcel wrapped in brown paper. A small note was tucked beneath the string. “A messenger delivered it.”

“I can't imagine what it could be.” Meg went to the settee, which they'd centered under the picture window for the evening's festivities, and opened the note. She recognized the handwriting at once.

Dear Miss Lacey,

We hope you like your new gown. We chose the color. We think you will look like a fairy princess. Uncle Will agrees with us. Take our advice and stay far away from chocolate. Please visit us soon.

Most sincerely yours,

Diana and Valerie

“Who's it from?” Julie craned her neck to see the note.

“The twins. It's a new gown.” Meg swiped at her eyes, determined not to cry. “I think I'll open it tomorrow, when things are calmer.”

“Tomorrow? Are you
mad
?” Julie placed her hands on her hips. “If you don't open it now, I will.”

“Very well.” While her sisters hovered over her, Meg tore off the paper and opened the box's lid. Nestled inside was the most lovely, sparkling, sigh-inducing dress she'd ever seen.

“That's no ordinary gown,” Beth whispered reverently.

Meg pulled it from the box and gasped as several feet of deep rose silk cascaded to the floor like a waterfall. The gown's tiny, puffed sleeves were meant to be worn off the shoulder, and its low, square neckline was meant to frame her décolletage. The shimmering light pink satin sash matched the delicate lace that graced the hemline.

It was the sort of dress Meg had never even dared to dream about.

In a tone that brooked no argument, Julie said, “Go upstairs and change.”

Meg swallowed. There would be no hiding in this gown. “I've already dressed and done my hair with a ribbon to match. Perhaps I should save—”

“
Now
.” Julie gave a death stare, and Meg desperately looked for an ally in Beth.

“I concur with our younger sister. You
will
wear the rose silk gown tonight—even if Julie and I have to wrestle you into it.”

*   *   *

Will shouldered his way through the crush of guests in Lord Wiltmore's townhouse, looking for Meg. He greeted his mother, Lady Rebecca, and Miss Winters who were chatting in the parlor and sipping champagne. It was Miss Winters who suggested that he might find Meg in the dining room-turned-dance floor.

The moment he spotted her in the crowded room, shining like a rose-colored diamond, he regretted buying the gown. Now every man at the bloody ball recognized her for the beauty she was. He should have purchased her a shawl to go with it—something to cover all that luminous, smooth skin. Hellfire and damnation.

He stalked toward her, intent on breaking up the circle of young bucks vying for her attention but was halted by someone pulling on his arm. Irritated, he turned.

Dear God. What on earth was his ex-mistress doing at Meg's ball? “Marina?”

“Will,” she said in an urgent whisper, “may I speak with you privately?”

“It's really not a good time.” He glanced over at Meg, who was valiantly resisting an invitation to dance. Sooner or later, however, she was bound to cave to the relentless pressure, and if she were going to dance with anyone, it would damned well be
him
.

Marina heaved a sigh. “I've no wish to interrupt your evening, but this pertains to the strange encounters I've had. I think I know the identity of the mysterious gentleman … and he's
here
.”

“What?” She had his full attention now. “Follow me. The garden will afford us some privacy.”

Will angled past the musicians, and Marina followed him out onto a small stone patio bordered by well-manicured bushes and a vine-laced trellis.

He dragged a hand through his hair. “What in God's name are you doing here?”

Marina rolled her eyes. “Miss Lacey invited me, if you must know. I feared it might be awkward—”

“I'll say,” he interrupted.

“—but she and her sisters couldn't have been more gracious. And I'm glad I came, because I'm almost certain that the man who approached me at Vauxhall Gardens and threatened me at the opera is here.”

Will's hands curled into fists. “Who?”

“Miss Lacey introduced him as Lord Redmere.”

Will shook his head, disbelieving. “The marquess is the last person I'd suspect. What makes you think he's the one who's been harassing you?”

“I can't say exactly,” Marina said. “But he has a very distinct voice. When he addressed me tonight, I felt a shiver in my bones. I'd wager my best pearl necklace—it's him.”

Will would have liked to have a bit more evidence to go on than a familiar voice and Marina's intuition, but it was a start. “I'll see what I can find out.”

Already his mind was scrambling, trying to make sense of the theory. What motive could Redmere possibly have for stalking Marina? The stranger had asked about the twins, their mother, and Meg. Nothing added up.

“Thank you again for the information,” he told Marina. “I doubt Redmere would be so bold as to corner you at the ball tonight, but to be safe, I'd suggest you try to avoid him.”

She shrugged. “I will stay out of his way … but I look forward to seeing what transpires.” With that she turned to make her way inside, and Will followed.

As he entered the dining room, he spotted Meg, still fending off admirers. Fickle bastards. He searched the other clusters of guests peppered around the perimeter of the room, looking for Redmere.

“If I didn't know better,” a feminine voice at his side said smoothly, “I'd think you were avoiding me.”

He glanced down at Lady Rebecca, trying to mask his exasperation. “Not at all. In fact, I was just looking for your father. I'd like a word with him.”

She arched a brow, and he could tell from her sudden intake of breath that she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“Papa was conversing with Lord Wiltmore when last I saw him. Shall I fetch him for you?”

“No. I'll find him.” Bowing hastily, he took a step toward the parlor. “Excuse me.”

Will barely made it to the doorway before Redmere approached, his gaze calculating. “Evening, Castleton. I saw you talking with Rebecca. I must say, the two of you make a striking pair.”

Redmere had tried to make it sound like a casual observation, but Will knew the man had an agenda … and a piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place. “I was just looking for you, Redmere. What do you say we step outside for a moment?”

“If you wish. A nice night for a bit of fresh air.” He patted the front pocket of his pristine evening jacket and smiled conspiratorially. “I've smuggled in a couple of cheroots if you'd like to indulge.”

“Not a bad idea,” Will lied. He walked through the dining room once more, catching Meg's eye this time, and casting a regretful look her way. She frowned slightly, and he vowed to himself that he'd spend the rest of the evening making up for his inattentiveness.

As soon as he dealt with Redmere.

The trio of musicians didn't miss a note as Will and Redmere angled past them, spilled out into the garden, and moved away from the noise.

The older man reached into his pocket, pulled out a cheroot, and offered it to Will.

“No, thank you.”