Stroke of Midnight (18 page)

Charlie, the traitor, wagged his tail and panted for attention.

Laura had to get rid of the woman. Her head bowed as if she were terrified, she said in a quavering tone, “I-I fear he was the last of his litter, m’lady. My-my mistress said there were no more.”

“No more!” Evelyn said in a huff as she straightened up. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all!”

“I might ask Roger Burrell,” Mr. Stanhope-Jones said rather languidly. “His spaniel bitch always has pups.”

“No!” Evelyn tapped the toe of her little green slipper on the pavement. “They won’t be as pretty as this one. Look at that dear little face. Rupert, have you a gold sovereign?”

“Why, whatever for, darling?”

“Just hand it over, if you will.”

Mr. Stanhope-Jones reached into his pocket and gave the coin to Evelyn. She promptly waved it in front of Laura. “Here, take this. Tell your mistress the dog has run off. She can get herself another—and you can turn a neat profit.”

A chuckle rumbled from Mr. Stanhope-Jones. “Really, Evelyn. Bribing the girl is a bit over the top, don’t you think?”

Evelyn ignored him. “Go on, miss, take the coin. You can buy yourself a much prettier bonnet and no one will be the wiser.”

Laura had had quite enough of the woman’s scheming. What a coldhearted conniver to suggest such a scam!

She set Charlie on the ground. Her chin tucked to her chest, she rose from the bench, her fingers tight around the leash. It took every ounce of her willpower to pretend meekness. “I’m sorry. I-I just couldn’t. Pray excuse me…”

She set off at a swift pace toward the corner. Charlie trotted alongside her, seeming to have caught her sense of urgency. How she would have loved to give Evelyn a severe dressing-down about stealing someone’s pet and tempting a poor servant into thievery. It just went to prove the woman’s lack of scruples.

Someone caught her arm and swung her back around before she could duck her head. “You drive a hard bargain, miss—”

Holding two sovereigns in her outstretched hand, Evelyn stopped in mid-sentence. Her brow furrowed as she stared straight at Laura’s face.

Laura wrenched herself free and averted her head. “No, thank you, m’lady. I daren’t take your money.”

Her heart pounding, she hastened with Charlie around the corner. Had Evelyn recognized her? Surely not. She might puzzle over a fleeting resemblance. But she wasn’t likely to connect a drab, bespectacled mouse with the vibrant debutante who had once been her rival for Alex’s affections.

Nevertheless, Laura obeyed an impulse to cut through the mews behind the row of town houses rather than stay on the main road. Here trees cast parasols of shade over the brick walls of backyard gardens, and the odor of horses tinged the air. Suddenly the rattle of carriage wheels came from the street behind her. Just in time she pulled Charlie into the alcove of a stable door.

Mr. Stanhope-Jones drove the yellow phaeton at a fast clip past the mews. Beside him, Evelyn sat on the edge of the seat and pointed at something—or someone—ahead of them on the street. Neither of the two spied Laura.

Heaven help her, Laura thought. She would have to take a circuitous way home. Because she couldn’t shake the horrible, sinking fear that they were looking for her.

Chapter 16

“Dog hair everywhere,” Mrs. Samson grumbled as she swooped into the kitchen, her shoes tapping on the stone floor. “I found a clump on the drawing room rug just now. There’ll be trouble aplenty when I find that lazy Fanny!” The housekeeper glowered at Laura, who was collecting a pair of teacups and saucers from the tall oak shelves of the sideboard. “What are
you
doing down here?”

“Lady Josephine decided she wanted blackberry jam with her crumpets, and since the footman had already gone, I—”

“Jam and crumpets! That is far too common.” Mrs. Samson gave a sharp shake of her head. “It won’t do. It won’t do at all. Not for the visitors waiting in the drawing room.”

“Visitors?”

“We are greatly honored to serve two of society’s most exalted members. Cook, we’ll need a plate of watercress sandwiches at once. Betty, fetch the plum cake.” The housekeeper clapped her hands, and the stout cook made haste to the larder, followed by a mob-capped maid who had been peeling carrots at the long table. “Mind that it’s sliced daintily for our lady guest. It isn’t every day that this house entertains a duchess!”

The saucer slipped from Laura’s fingers and clattered to the silver tray. Which duchess? Evelyn?

No, that couldn’t be. Lord Haversham’s snobbish daughter would have no reason to call on a doddering old lady. Even if she’d recognized Laura on the street the previous day, Evelyn couldn’t possibly have traced her here to this house. Laura had watched carefully all the way home and had not seen the yellow phaeton again.

“Have a care!” Mrs. Samson snapped. “That is her ladyship’s finest Staffordshire. If you break anything, it shall come out of your wages.”

“Forgive me,” Laura murmured.

She busied herself with collecting the silver teaspoons from a drawer. All the while, her thoughts raced. Today was the day she had told Alex to call, she realized.
Of course.
It wasn’t Evelyn at all. Alex must have come with his godmother, the Duchess of Knowles. As a family friend, she would be acquainted with Lady Josephine.

But that realization didn’t alleviate Laura’s tension. Why would Alex bring the duchess here when he knew she might recognize Laura?

The last time she had seen him, on the night of the birthday dinner, he had guessed that she was seeking the culprit who had stolen the Blue Moon diamond. He’d been skeptical since he firmly believed Papa was guilty. He had offered to assist her, but she had put him off with a calculated kiss. She had told him to wait two days in the hope of honing his desire for her and, thus, his willingness to help.

But perhaps her plan had gone awry. Perhaps instead of pining, Alex had decided to stop her, once and for all, from dragging the scandal back out into the open. What better way than to expose her ruse to the Duchess of Knowles?

A chill swept over Laura, followed by a flush of anger. She had to thwart him. If she stayed out of sight down here …

“Miss Brown!” With a thump, Mrs. Samson set the mahogany tea caddy onto the worktable. “This is no time for woolgathering!”

Laura turned to look at the hatchet-faced woman. “Sorry?”

“You have not been listening to me,” the housekeeper said in a disgruntled tone. “You’re wanted upstairs at once.”

“Upstairs!”

“Yes, upstairs, in the drawing room. Where else should you be but at Lady Josephine’s side, lending her your assistance as you’re paid to do? Now, hurry along with you and don’t dawdle!”

Laura had to bite her lip to keep from snapping back at the officious woman. Everything in her resisted obeying. But she didn’t dare give herself away, not until she knew exactly what it was that Alex had planned. Mindful of her place, she headed out the door and up two flights of steep, narrow stairs.

She emerged though the servants’ door concealed in the paneling of the passageway. A short distance away, voices emanated from inside the drawing room. There was a man’s deep muffled tone, followed by Lady Josephine’s delighted laugh. A dog yapped; Charlie must be over-excited by the visitors.

Laura paused to adjust her spectacles. She didn’t have to go in. She could run upstairs and conveniently vanish until they were gone. Yet wouldn’t that be merely postponing the inevitable? Alex was an earl. He would have his way eventually no matter what her wishes.

Feeling trapped, she smoothed her hands down the dreary gray of her gown. How she yearned to be wearing an exquisite rose silk with her hair arranged in stylish curls instead of being covered by the ugly lace cap. Well, she would cloak herself in pride rather than cower in front of the haughty Duchess of Knowles. As for Alex, he could go to the devil!

Girded for battle, Laura stepped into the drawing room. The crimson draperies had been drawn back to let in the afternoon light. This chamber was as cluttered as the rest of the house, with an abundance of porcelain figurines crowding the tables and shelves. Several groupings of chairs and chaises scattered the room, and in front of the marble fireplace, three people sat in a cozy circle.

Laura faltered to a stop just inside the doorway. A knot twisted her stomach and she blinked, unable to believe her eyes. The visitors weren’t Alex and his godmother. It was Evelyn and Mr. Stanhope-Jones, after all.

How had they had found her?

Along with Lady Josephine, they were gazing down at the hearth rug, apparently absorbed in watching some antic of Charlie’s. In a panic, Laura decided to withdraw from the room before anyone noticed her.

But she’d retreated only a step when Evelyn looked up, straight at Laura. Beneath the stylish straw bonnet, those topaz eyes had a catlike glitter in her refined face. “Ah, there she is. The mysterious companion we met yesterday in front of my father’s house.”

Evelyn knew. The glee in her expression confirmed that she had recognized Laura. Mr. Stanhope-Jones also was watching Laura closely, his manner alert, his blue eyes focused on her.

“Do come and join us, Laura,” Lady Josephine called, her wrinkled face wreathed in a smile as she beckoned in excitement. “You’ll never guess who’s come to call!”

Laura conquered the craven impulse to run. It was no use hiding herself anymore. They had seen through her disguise. Gathering the shreds of her courage, she lifted her chin and walked toward the group. She would have to determine if any part of her plans could be salvaged from this disaster.

Besides, she had a duty to shield Lady Josephine from distress. Better that Laura should be here to answer their questions than allow them to badger the old woman.

With that in mind, Laura played the part of the servant and curtsied to both guests. Then she seated herself beside her mistress on the chaise. “Will you introduce your guests, my lady?”

A blank look crossed Lady Josephine’s face. “Oh! Er … the duchess, I believe…”

Evelyn gave the elderly woman a slightly contemptuous glance before returning her gaze to Laura. “I am the Duchess of Cliffington. This is Mr. Stanhope-Jones. And you would be…?”

“Miss Brown.”

“Ah, Miss Brown,” Mr. Stanhope-Jones said. He raised a gold-rimmed monocle to one eye and studied her closely. “Miss
Laura
Brown. Not a very common first name. In truth, I’ve only ever met one other Laura in my life.”

Laura kept silent. Were they expecting her to confess to them? She wouldn’t do it. Shifting her gaze back to Evelyn, she imagined the woman maliciously placing those earrings in Papa’s desk. Evelyn must have celebrated when Laura and her father had been forced to flee England.

Lady Josephine tugged on Laura’s arm. “My dear, you haven’t even seen! Dear little Charlie has a playmate today.”

Only then did Laura realize that not one, but
two
puppies gamboled on the hearth rug, growling and play-fighting. She had been so intent on her own dilemma that their frolicking had utterly escaped her notice.

Despite the dire circumstances, she managed a brief smile for Lady Josephine’s sake. “How wonderful. They’re both spaniels, I see. And about the same age.”

Evelyn scooped up the smaller of the two puppies and cradled it in the lap of her blue brocade gown. “Fancy that. Rupert found little Daisy for me. He knew of a man whose spaniel had a litter.”

“Roger Burrell is known for breeding King Charles spaniels,” Mr. Stanhope-Jones said. “We paid him a call directly after we saw you on the street, Miss
Brown
.”

His slight emphasis on her false name didn’t escape Laura’s notice. Although his manner was otherwise courteous, his keen stare had not abated. He had once courted her, so perhaps he was merely curious to see the reduction in her circumstances. “I’m pleased you were successful in your quest to acquire a puppy,” she said with feigned politeness. “I do hope he cost more than a gold sovereign.”

He chuckled. “Cost is no object to Her Grace when she has her mind set on something. And by an amazing coincidence, Burrell said that Lord Copley had been there only a few days ago to acquire a puppy.”

“I visited Alex yesterday evening,” Evelyn added with an arch smile. “He told me that he’d given the dog to his aunt. Wasn’t it good of him to share that news? Now we can let brother and sister play together.”

She bent down, giving everyone a view of her fine bosom as she released the wriggly puppy back onto the hearth rug to rejoin Charlie.

It had been far too easy for them to trace her, Laura reflected bitterly. They had come here today to confirm her identity. Oh, why had Alex abetted Evelyn? Had he done so unwittingly?

Laura wanted to believe that it had been inadvertent. Then she scolded herself for being naive. It was far more plausible that in the two days since she’d confessed her plan to him, Alex had decided to stop her from stirring up trouble. Perhaps he had seized upon this opportunity to leak the scandalous news to society about her presence in London. Evelyn was merely his convenient pawn.

Laura had long known that the nobility had a loyalty to its own kind. Her present predicament only served as a reminder that she must never place her trust in the Earl of Copley.

A footman wheeled in the tea tray. Laura caught a glimpse of Mrs. Samson hovering out in the corridor. The housekeeper would be horrified to know that if it weren’t for Lady Josephine cooing over the puppies, Laura would have found some way to eject the visitors. Instead, she was forced to pour the tea, since Lady Josephine was too unsteady to perform the role of hostess.

Laura passed steaming cups to Evelyn and to Mr. Stanhope-Jones, who were chatting politely with Lady Josephine about the dogs. She dutifully served plum cake and dainty sandwiches. But as she resumed her seat, Mr. Stanhope-Jones fixed his gaze on her again.

“You must forgive us for our interest in you, Miss Brown,” he said, stirring in a lump of sugar with a dainty silver spoon. “It is only that you bear an uncanny resemblance to a young lady we once knew.”