Royal Revels (24 page)

“Oh, thank you!” She grabbed the key and ran upstairs before Belami looked her way.

She kept the door ajar, which gave her a narrow view of the stairs and a slice of the lobby. When she heard a tread on the stairs, she pulled the door to, with only a crack now. The one-inch view of the man approaching was enough to identify Belami. How could Pronto have let him come up? He couldn’t be coming to this room! But he was advancing quickly toward that very door. She looked wildly for someplace to hide and plunged into the clothespress, the only place large enough to hold her unless she wanted to roll under the bed.

She pulled the door shut behind her, but, with no latch inside, it hung open a crack. She looked out and saw with amazement that Belami had sat down on a chair and opened the briefcase he carried with him. It contained a very large sum of money. Thousands and thousands of pounds. The only thing she could think of was that he was going to give it to his mistress. She was furious yet exultant that she should be catching him in the very act. It was warm in her fur-lined cape, but if she tried to slip it off, it might alert Belami to her presence.

While she waited uncomfortably, there was a tap at the door and, before her astonished gaze, Lady Gilham sauntered in. It was a lovers’ meeting, so how could she get away? She gasped, but quietly into her cape. She watched transfixed as Belami walked forward. Now what could she do? Must she hide in the cupboard while he seduced Lady Gilham? No, it would be better to come out at once and bear the shame, for she knew she couldn’t endure the alternative without committing murder. She took a breath, gripped the edge of the door, and firmed her resolve to emerge.

“You’re punctual,” Belami said to Lady Gilham. His voice surprised Deirdre. It was not the dulcet, silken voice he used with her when he had lovemaking in mind. It was a harsh, abrasive sound. She released her grip on the door and listened closely.

“I’m happy to be able to return the compliment,” Lady Gilham said coolly and strode boldly into the room. It was difficult to recognize in this self-assured female the timid girl she had first seen at North Street.

“Shall we get on with it?” Belami suggested.

Deirdre’s blood curled. Was this how gentlemen behaved with their paid lovers?

“Have you got the money?” Lady Gilham countered.

She was as cold and mercenary as Dick!

“Have you got the letters?” Dick asked, causing the first dawning knowledge that it was not a love tryst. How quick she had been to accuse him.

Lady Gilham handed him a packet of letters. Dick flipped through them, too quickly to be reading but slowly enough to be counting and verifying their authenticity. “They seem to be in order,” he said.

“I take it that’s the money?” Lady Gilham said, nodding to the suitcase.

“Examine it, if you wish,” Belami offered. She walked forward and ran her gloved hands through the case of bills.

“I can’t count it. It would take forever,” she said.

“Here’s the receipt from the bank,” he said, handing her a piece of paper. She looked at it and quickly made her decision.

“You call yourself a gentleman. I’ll take your word for it. It’s a great deal of money in any case,” she said with infinite satisfaction as she closed the lid and took hold of the handle.

“Not yet,” Belami said in a dangerously calm voice.

“The other wares are in my carriage in the stable. Your man—that French fellow—is examining them. You can come down with me if you don’t trust me,” she added.

“Oh, I trust Réal well enough for that job. I refer to something else.”

“This, do you mean?” she asked, dangling the golden locket, which she drew from her pocket. “You’re thorough, milord.’’

He went to her and took the locket from her fingers. “I wasn’t referring to the locket, but to the other item of jewelry purloined from me at the inn last night,” he said, his voice very curt.

“What do you mean?” she asked in astonishment.

“I mean my fiancée’s ring,” he said harshly. “You have it. I could forgive you all the rest, Lady Gilham. Your holding the prince to ransom is of no importance to me, but for your trick in calling that innocent woman to the inn last night and having her see me in a compromising situation, I will never forgive you as long as I live.”

His eyes never went within a right angle of the clothespress door, but he angled himself to give the door a view of his face as he spoke. Deirdre watched spellbound as he mouthed these noble sentiments. She felt she was looking at a genuine hero.

“Pshaw,” the lady said in disparagement. “Why you worry yourself so over that widgeon is beyond me. You could do much better for yourself, milord.”

These words struck his ears most happily. She couldn’t have responded better if he’d written her script himself. “How can a man do better than to marry the only woman he ever loved or ever will love?” he asked. “She’s worth ten of any other woman on the earth. And she was mine till you came along.”

“And is that why you resisted me so assiduously last night? I am relieved to hear it. I began to fear my charms were fading,” she said mockingly.

“Your charms are intact,” he answered carefully. “Most men would have succumbed, no doubt. I happen to have been most deeply and sincerely in love with another woman.”

“If the ninny knows what is best for herself, she’ll forgive you one little transgression. Especially a transgression that transgressed nothing but appearances.”

“Yes, and how should Miss Gower ever know that?”

“She doesn’t trust you, along with the rest?” she asked.

“There is no ‘rest.’ Naturally she believed her eyes.”

“For myself, I wouldn’t give a brass farthing for a man who didn’t love me enough to trust me and to forgive me an occasional slip. But that is entirely your own affair. Here, have the ring if it means so much to you,” she said, opening her reticule to hand it to him. “One would think the ring would lure her back, if not the man,” she said, taking a last, long look at the diamond.

“She’s not lured by baubles. Her mind is of a higher cast,” he said, and enjoyed the blank look of bewilderment that settled on Lady Gilham’s face.

“I personally think it would be extremely tedious to be married to a saint,” she said. “Take care you’re not both strangled by her halo. I’m off now. Will you accompany me to the stable to see that all is in order?”

“I trust you,” he said, but walked out behind her, controlling an impulse to look at the clothespress door with a superhuman effort. He went to the stairs, but didn’t descend with Lady Gilham.

When they were gone, Deirdre pushed open the door and gasped for air. There was a film of perspiration on her forehead and upper lip from the heat. There were also tears in her eyes, but they had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Oh, what have I done?” she whispered in a strangled voice. She was unworthy of Dick’s constant devotion. She sat on the edge of Pronto’s bed, forgetful of where she was and of what she was doing there. She wanted only one thing—to see Dick and to beg humbly for his forgiveness.

How could she have doubted him? All the time he was only seeing Lady Gilham on business, as he had said. Hard as that beautiful woman had thrown herself at him, he had resisted because he was in love with her. His ringing praise sang in her ears, followed by the more worldly denigration of Lady Gilham. Dick had paid no heed to it, but later he might remember and begin to wonder if Lady Gilham was not correct. Her love for Dick had been too weak. She didn’t deserve him.

It was a few minutes before she heard a scratching at the door. She looked up, her eyes bright with tears, hoping it would be Dick, but it was only Pronto.

“Lud, what a mixup,” he said merrily, deciding that to disregard her state would be the gallant course. “Dick came into the inn in a desperate plight. He had to meet Gilham and didn’t want to go to her place or to ask her to his in case you heard about it and disliked it, so he asked if he could use my room. There was no talking him out of it. I hope you didn’t mind having to hide.”

“Pronto, I shall never be able to thank you enough. It was a—a revelation!” she said with a glowing smile. “There’s nothing between Dick and Lady Gilham, you know. Nothing at all.”

“I knew it all along. Deuce take it, how could he be carrying on with her when he’s mad as a hatter about you?”

“You make me so ashamed for my lack of faith. We’d better go home now,” she added reluctantly.

“That’s dandy, but don’t you want to go to the library first?”

“Yes, of course,” she said in a dazed, careless way.

She was very quiet as they drove home from the library. Her dreamy smile dwindled to a frown as they drove up Pavilion Parade. Her mood was light—she loved Dick with all her heart, and he loved her, but between them loomed the gaunt shadow of the duchess, who held Dick in utter contempt and would never sanction the match. She must consult with Dick and arrange some plan to bring the duchess to heel.

“Pronto, where is Dick now?’’ she asked.

He took a peep at the list in his pocket. “I expect he’d be lurking around outside Gilham’s door or possibly picking up the constable. This ain’t the minute to be pestering him, m’dear.”

“Do you know what he will be doing this evening?”

He only knew the last item on his list was to take Deirdre home. What activities the evening held for them all had not been discussed. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he does,” he told her with a reassuring pat on the hand. “Up to all the rigs, is Dick.”

It was not feasible to pass Dick an invitation to call via Pronto. The duchess would bar the door. Pronto knew how she felt and she counted on him to relay her sentiments to Belami. Meanwhile she would go home and do what she could to mend his tattered reputation in that quarter.

Her aunt noticed her changed expression as soon as she entered the saloon and handed her the Gothic novel. “Your outing has done you a world of good. You’ve put off your Friday face, thank God. Ah, excellent!” she added, glancing at the book. “
Midnight Bell
. I was ever fond of this one.”

It proved impossible to whitewash Belami at this moment. She could not explain how she had gone unchaperoned to a man’s hotel room, and, without revealing that, the rest of the story could not be told. “What are we doing this evening, Auntie?” she asked instead.

“I have half a mind to pack up and return to London. There is nothing doing here. Nothing at all. No word from the Pavilion, and I cannot give a party when you’ve just lost Belami. I haven’t had a single caller all day—except Mr. Smythe. He dropped in to tell me he is leaving town. Such a charming lad. He has come across some evidence that he is not who the prince believes, Deirdre. It was a blow to us all. Poor Prinney will be in tears. I was moist in the eye myself. He was on thorns to leave—so gentlemanly! He didn’t want to embarrass the prince when Mrs. Fitzherbert arrives. He knew she was coming too. I don’t believe in squandering money on every worthless charity that comes along, but I was so touched by his proper behavior that I gave him fifty pounds, Deirdre. He was a little short to settle up his account at the inn. Perhaps I shall stick around for a few days and say hello to Maria Fitzherbert. That might bring on a few fireworks and liven up this dull, damp, draughty place.”

“What evidence did Mr. Smythe find?” Deirdre asked, feeling in her bones that Dick had something to do with it.

“I expect Belami forged up a set of papers and diddled the prince out of a son, the son out of his birthright, and you out of an excellent
parti
. We are well rid of that rattle, Belami. If nothing else was accomplished by this expensive trip, it was still worth it.” She ran on with a list of her expenses till her eyes fell on the novel awaiting her. Then she dismissed her niece and settled in for a good read.

Chapter Sixteen

Belami wore a tentative smile as he hopped into his carriage and followed Lady Gilham’s carriage out of the stable yard. She didn’t have her luggage on the rack, so she had to go home and pick it up. He would call on her at North Street.

Réal knew his first stop was the constable’s office, and the constable knew his part in the melodrama about to be enacted. Highly irregular, he called it, but when word came from the Prince Regent’s own secretary, a mere constable didn’t say no. The whole nation knew Colonel McMahon was the prince’s private secretary, with wide powers to act for His Highness. He hopped into the carriage with Belami and was hustled along to North Street.

“Make it fierce,” Belami told him as the carriage approached its destination. “I want her to hear the clanging of the door at Bridewell. Put the fear of the Lord into her.”

“It seems irregular,” Perkins asserted, not for the first time.

“It is,” Belami answered and laughed, “but this is a highly irregular female.”

They alit and went to the front door, where Perkins hammered loudly enough to shake the hinges. “Open in the name of the law!” he shouted, then pushed open the unlocked door and pounced in. Lady Gilham sat with her hands buried to the wrists in money. “I arrest you in the name of the law for stealing that there money from this here lord!” Perkins said, darting forward to grab her wrists. A pair of manacles jangled from his left hand.

Lady Gilham gasped and shrank back. “I didn’t steal it! He gave it to me! Tell him, Lord Belami!”

“Don’t be daft. He’s the one what told me you stole it,” Perkins said. “Yessir, there’s his very initials on the side of the leather case just as he described it. Come along then, miss. Making trouble will only put you behind bars for a longer time.”

“I didn’t steal it!” she repeated, looking at him with great, bewildered eyes, the nature of the trap not yet clear to her.

“Where did you get it then?” the constable demanded.

“From him, at the Old Ship, not fifteen minutes ago,” she replied.

“It’s true we were there, for an assignation whose nature I would prefer not to go into.” Belami shared a worldly look with Perkins. “I assure you the price for the lady’s services was not five thousand pounds. She stole it while I was still in bed, resting.”