Royal Revels (12 page)

“Right, I’ll call on her as soon as I get word from London about her past,” Belami agreed.

He went straight home to Marine Parade. His groom was back from London, waiting for him in the stable. Réal’s first concern, as always, was for milord’s grays. After being away from these beauties for a day, Réal had to inspect them to ensure the stand-in groom hadn’t lamed them. He ran his hands carefully over their joints, loudly imagining a slight swelling in the left knee.

“I’d better give ‘em a good rubdown,” the groom said. He knew well that Belami was on thorns to hear his report and always enjoyed discomfiting his master in any way he could.

“Are you too simple-minded to do two things at once? Talk, dammit,” Belami scolded. “I suppose there was no Mrs. Lehman at Upper Grosvenor Square, no one who’d ever heard of Lady Gilham.”

“
Au contraire
,” Réal said, his black eyes snapping. A jerk of his head brought his underling forward to brush down the grays, and he turned his full attention to Belami.

“You mean there actually is a Mrs. Lehman?”

Réal sat on the mounting block, folded his arms, and cast a dark, accusing eye on his master. “This was the very difficult assignment,” he said grandly. “I, Pierre Réal, used the wits, as you are recommending constantly. I h’assumed the disguise of Bow Street and presented myself at the door, with talking of difficulties in Brighton with Lady Gilham. The strong torrents of abuses were coming forth immediately. Mrs. Lehman, she says Lady Gilham will end up dancing on the gibbet. She is the no-good, marries the old man, Sir John Gilham, and soon drives him into his grave. Next she is selling his excellent property in Cornwall and runs off to London for the flirtations. She is refusing to live in the decent house of Mrs. Lehman, but drops her daughter there. When the money is nearly gone, she trots down to Brighton to become the trollop of the Prince Regent. When this is known, Mrs. Lehman says the invitation to live with her is no longer extending.
Voila, c’est tout.
”

“That’s a surprise. I see at least some relation to what Lady Gilham told me,’’ Belami said, pacing the stable. “I was sure Gilham made up the whole thing.”

“Me, I, too, would not care to inhabit the very decent house of Mrs. Lehman with the cold saloon and no offer of wine. Regarding the daughter, her I do not see, but in the hallway there is the child’s sleigh and a small pair of mittens drying. Speeds being of the h’essence, I do not dally to see with my own eyes the child. We
deduce
she is there,” he said, with emphasis on the effectual word.

“You did well, Réal,’’ Belami congratulated, clapping him on the shoulder. “How’s everything at the house?”

“Uggams and his wife are returned from the honeymoon. The missus, she is a
boule de suif
,” he added disparagingly.

“What, fat, is she? I’m shocked at Uggams’s taste. It was always the slender maids he chased in the past.”

“The thin ones, they are fast. They escaped him,” Réal said. “You have more assignments for me, milord?”

“Yes, it’s such a relief to have you back, Réal. I’m lost without you,” Belami said. He found praise even more effective than money in getting good performance from his employees. “I want you to set up a schedule with a couple of the footmen to watch Lady Gilham’s residence. Let me know who comes and goes, and if she goes out herself, follow her. She had a male caller the first night I saw her. If he’s a suitor of respectable inclinations, we might be able to threaten her with disclosing her seamy past. You’ll get to know how she goes on after a day or two. It’s a busy street with coach houses nearby. I’m sure you can manage to make yourself invisible.”

“It is done,” Réal said with a grandiose bow.

Belami looked around the stable and said, “Where’s the duchess’s carriage? I didn’t know she was going out.”

“
Je ne sais pas
. It is gone when I arrive from London.”

Belami entertained some hope that Deirdre had remained home alone. He might actually have five minutes with his betrothed without the hovering presence of her chaperone. He turned eagerly toward the house and stopped. If she was alone, she’d want to accompany him to Lady Gilham’s place. He wanted to go there immediately and much preferred to go alone. He straightened his shoulders, nobly putting business before pleasure, and got back into his carriage. He’d go to Gilham now. There’d be time for privacy with Deirdre soon, after the wedding.

Chapter Eight

As Belami was driven to Lady Gilham’s address, he thought over what Réal had told him. The coloring of the lady’s story had been lighter than Mrs. Lehman’s, but the facts certainly coincided. The only real lie was that the prince himself had revealed their liaison. Obviously the story had reached Lehman via the grapevine of gossip. He assumed Lady Gilham’s plight was indeed desperate and fought an emotional battle with himself.

To be perfectly reasonable, though it was always hard to be reasonable with a charming lady, Gilham had permitted herself to be seduced. Mrs. Lehman implied it was not the first time. A lady who took that path didn’t customarily revert to the straight and narrow. She went from lover to lover, and to reveal herself as a grasping schemer was poor policy. Other men would be afraid to go near her.

What hardened his attitude was the purloined china and silver. He could not in good conscience pity a woman who planned to set up a sideshow. His job was to “handle” her, and he’d do it. But he hoped she wouldn’t cry. He hated being hard with sobbing women.

The servant at the door recognized him by now and admitted him immediately. He was shown into the saloon where Lady Gilham sat alone. She did not arise to meet him, but extended her hand to bring him to her. She looked quite lovely today with her hair pinned up, revealing a pair of cameo ear buckles on two ears as dainty as furled rosebuds. She looked innocent and dignified in a dark dress that fitted rather snugly over her curvaceous body.

“You don’t waste any time, Lord Belami,” she said and gave an approving smile. “I wasn’t looking for you before tomorrow. I hope you bring me good news?”

“I don’t really bring any news at all,” he admitted, then watched as her lips drooped forlornly. “That means, however, that I don’t bring bad news at least,” he pointed out. She motioned to a striped satin chair beside the sofa, and he went to it.

“No news? I don’t understand. Will the prince give me my money or not? You know the situation is urgent.”

“The prince is coming to Brighton today. I mean to speak to him in person and try to advance your cause.”

She cast a doubtful eye on him. “How that news would have thrilled me a few months ago. The prince coming to Brighton! It was like hearing spring had just arrived. Now it only brings heartache. I suppose Lady Hertford comes with him?”

“I believe not,” Belami said briefly.

“Has she been replaced in his fickle affections as well?”

There was a bitter twist to her lovely lips. “I know nothing of that, and it’s irrelevant in any case.

“So you have nothing to tell me? I begin to wonder why you bothered to come at all, milord,” she said, a curious little smile slanted at him through her lashes. Coquetry was much easier to handle than tears. He was relieved and returned the smile.

“As you complained of a lack of callers, I thought you might be happy to see me,” he bantered.

“Is it the boudoir you wish to see now that Miss Gower is not with you?” she asked archly. The hot glances she bestowed on him suggested some ambiguity regarding the boudoir.

He felt a sense of danger. This woman would be hard, perhaps impossible, to handle in a boudoir. He thought of Deirdre and resisted the natural impulse to accept her offer. “I’ll take your word for it that you have further items belonging to the prince along with the letters,” he parried.

“What a shocking lack of interest!” Her smile assumed the aroma of mocking laughter. “Shall I enumerate the items for you? One Sevres shaving mug, with matching razor, the handle decorated with Venus
au naturel
. A set of gold-backed brushes bearing the prince’s three plumes—quite distinctive, don’t you agree? One dressing gown of violet silk with a crested pocket and a pair of matching violet kidskin slippers. Oh, and a very fine snuffbox. I use it as a paperweight for the billets-doux,” she added to remind him of the most damning evidence of all.

What Belami paid most interest to was the location of the letters. But he wouldn’t have an affair with Gilham to get them. He’d lure her away and have Réal break in one evening. The most obvious and credible way to remove her was by making an assignation. To do this, he must make up to her a little.

“I see the prince was very much at home here. I’m surprised he didn’t supply you with a carriage and pair of matched cream ponies from the Hanoverian stud,” he said lightly.

“That would have been much too public. He wished to keep me very much out of the public eye in case his friends went tattling back to Lady Hertford. None of the items I mentioned was intended as a gift. The plate in particular he wished to have back. Did I ever tell you how I acquired it?” she asked.

“You mentioned Carème bringing some food here, I believe,” he answered blandly.

“He cooked us dinner here a few times, but on my birthday the prince had dinner prepared in his own kitchen, as special equipment was required. There were six footmen in my house that night. They were supposed to wash and pack up the china and plate afterwards, but the prince was called back to the Pavilion in a great rush. Some ministers had arrived from London on urgent business. He was so eager to get away and hide any evidence that he’d been here that he rushed all the servants off, forgetting the plate. He didn’t want his carts to be seen outside of my house. Lady Hertford arrived in Brighton the next day, and I never saw the prince again. He sent servants over to collect the forgotten items later, and I refused to give them up. That was very shocking of me, was it not?” she asked playfully.

“Understandable, given the circumstances,’’ Belami said.

“I sent a message that if His Highness wished the return of his belongings, he had only to come in person for them. You may tell him that that offer still applies. I’ll give them up to the prince, but to no one else.”

“All the same, that course could land you in Bridewell,” he cautioned.

‘‘It could also land me—and the prince—on the front page of every newspaper in the country,” she answered, and patted her hair. “
Point non plus
, I believe is what you gentlemen call it.”

“Do you know, Lady Gilham, this vindictive course you choose to follow is enough to frighten other potential suitors away?” he said in an avuncular way.

“Other patrons, you mean. But I do not intend to find myself in that unenviable position again.”

“I said suitors, not patrons,’’ he pointed out.

“Yes, you
said
suitors,” she agreed with a knowing glance, “but no decent gentleman would offer me marriage now.”

“Society is not so straitlaced as that. You are a widow after all, not a deb.”

“Widows are considered fair game, I believe. I’ve had a few other bids of that sort. I’m not interested.’’

“Pity,” Belami murmured, an appreciative eye trailing over her face and slowly downward, then back up.

Their eyes met and held for a long, pregnant moment.

Neither spoke, but there was a tacit question in the air. At length, Lady Gilham backed down. “I’m certainly not interested in a weekend in Paris or anything of that sort. Of course, if some honorable gentleman made an exceedingly generous offer... Well, I am but flesh and blood after all, and must provide for myself and my daughter. I would prefer England to Ireland actually,” she admitted, while a flush of pink rose up her creamy throat.

Belami gave her a soft smile. He felt a twinge of conscience, but when you came down to it, the woman was a conniving hussy, and, to compound the matter, she was a hypocrite, claiming respectability when what she wanted was an ironclad contract. “Perhaps we could meet one evening and discuss possibilities,” he suggested.

“Why not this evening, Belami, since Miss Gower has jilted you?” she replied. “I hope
I
am not instrumental in the affair. Truth to tell, I thought her much too insipid for you.”

He blinked, not understanding this speech. “Jilted me?” he asked. “What on earth are you talking about? Where did you hear that?”

She gave him a quick, guilty look. “I heard it somewhere or other. Mrs. Morton told me not an hour ago. She said the duchess had removed herself and her niece from your house. Is it not true?”

“Of course it’s not true!” he answered, shocked.

“In that case I withdraw my comment on Miss Gower. She will suit you admirably. So admirably that you are already looking about for a mistress.”

He laughed a debonair laugh. “Gentlemen like a little variety in their lives. About this evening, as I mentioned, the prince will be in town. He might wish to see me. Shall we say—tomorrow evening? You can tell Mrs. Morton you are engaged to see a play. I’ll drive into the country and find a discreet inn for us.”

Her utterly calm demeanor suggested she had some familiarity with these goings-on. “There will be no need to return. Just send a note telling me the time and I shall be ready. Will it be convenient for you to pick me up, or shall I meet you there?”

“I wouldn’t want you out alone on the roads at night. I shall call here for you. Till tomorrow evening then.” He bestowed a caressing glance that was not very difficult to simulate.

They arose, and she advanced toward him, her hips moving from side to side in a seductive manner not formerly employed. Oh, yes, she was an experienced strumpet. Her eyelids drooped, and she placed one dainty white hand on his arm. He lifted it to his lips and placed a kiss on it.

When he lowered it, she was gazing at him with those great, dark, doe eyes. “Kiss me, Belami,” she said in a throaty voice.

He knew it was impossible to refuse. He put his arms around her and drew her against his chest. She pressed herself against him, her lips warm and yielding on his while her fingers entwined themselves in his hair.