Tempting a Proper Lady (5 page)

“I did not come back and rescue you from that island only to have a Virginia farmer get the better
of you. If they did not listen last night, you must simply try again.”

“That's why we're headed to London. We're restrategizing and moving our battle to a different field.”

John grew serious. “Samuel, as an earl, Raventhorpe will have the advantage in London. You might have more luck here in the country.”

“No, I think this is the right move. It was you who gave me the idea when you passed on that little tidbit you learned from the servants last evening.”

“Bless them. I told you the servants' network is the fastest and most accurate way to transmit knowledge.”

“It's served us well to this point. First alerting us to where we could find Annabelle, and now with the knowledge that the Baileys travel to London in a few days.”

“And that Raventhorpe is scheduled to leave for Cornwall to visit the orphanages he sponsors. He will join his fiancée in time for the Canthrope affair on Monday.”

“Ah, yes. Raventhorpe the philanthropist.” Samuel gave a disbelieving laugh. “When we get to London, I want you to start collecting information on those orphanages, John. There might be secrets there we can use to prove his character to the Baileys.”

“It would be just like Raventhorpe to turn a charitable establishment into something sordid.”

“We both know what he is capable of, and sincere donations of the heart are not in his repertoire.”

“While I am doing that, what do you intend to accomplish in London?”

Samuel smiled and picked up his bag. “I intend to make a spectacle of myself. Rent a house. Buy a carriage, horses. How else will I make an impression on the wealth-obsessed members of London society except by an extravagant spending of gold?”

“Which will get all of London talking about the mysterious rich American.” John laughed. “Well done!”

“The Baileys don't yet know about my change in fortunes. I like to imagine their faces when they find out.”

John chuckled. “Even though you are a lowly American, the color of your gold will open the doors of society for you.”

“The color of
our
gold, John. I told you I would divide the treasure I found on the island with you as reward for returning for me.”

“I have no need of treasure,” John said, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Nevertheless, I have a need to give it to you. I could open an account for you—”

“No.” John shook his head. “If you insist on bestowing your riches on me, I trust you to hold it until such a time as I may require it. For now I am content to be your coachman.”

Samuel gave a quick laugh. “John, you are much more than a coachman.”

“Very well. Your companion, then.”

Samuel gave his friend a sharp look. “You are more than that as well. But if this is how you want it to be…”

“It is. Trust me, Samuel. It is much better if I stay invisible to the authorities of England. And how better to do that than to be in plain sight as a servant?”

“John, I know you are no mere servant. Anyone who exchanges more than a few words with you would know it.”

“Then I shall endeavor to remain silent whenever possible.” When Samuel opened his mouth to comment further, John held up a hand to silence him. “Please, Samuel.”

His plea convinced Samuel to let the matter drop. “Very well. Let's leave for London directly after breakfast.” He headed for the door, then grinned and tossed his bag to John, who caught it. “If you insist on being a servant, you'll have to act like one.”

John adjusted his grip on the bag and moved out of the doorway. “I see your humor has improved.”

Samuel followed John into the hallway and turned to lock the door to the room. “I intend to stop this wedding, John, and I
will
win back the Baileys' trust in me.”

“You'll need a plan for that.”

Samuel thought of Mrs. Burke and the sympathy in her eyes when she'd come after him. “I may have already found one. The next time the Baileys see me, it will be a different Samuel Breedlove who greets them.”

London, a week later

“I
should have stayed behind,” Cilla said as she regarded the crush in Lady Canthrope's London ballroom. “My presence may do more harm than good.”

“Nonsense.” Dolly waved her hand in dismissal. “You have done nothing wrong, my dear, except to follow your heart.”

“You have a different view on marriage than the English,” Cilla said. “I caused quite a stir when I eloped with Edward. And the memories of society matrons are long and detailed.”

Annabelle sent her a worried glance. “I certainly hope no one is rude enough to mention such a thing.”

“I am not concerned for myself. It is you. I do not want to see your reputation harmed by my foolish decisions. It is bad enough that everyone around Nevarton Chase is buzzing about what happened at the engagement party.”

“Enough,” Dolly murmured as a group of people
passed by the niche where the three of them had gathered. “Cilla, we talked about this. It was a brilliant notion to leave for London early to escape the wagging tongues. By the time we return, the whole scandal should have blown over.”

“That is my hope. But here in London…I tried to tell you that my marriage was not well received. Some people might slight you because of me.”

“Nonsense. You should hold your head high and don't let any of those busybodies rile you. It's not like you ran off with the man to live in sin, after all!”

Annabelle giggled. “Mama!”

“Well, it's the truth.” Dolly gave Cilla a righteous nod. “You married the wrong man, dear. A mistake many women make, let me tell you. I'm just lucky I met my Virgil.”

“Where
is
Pa?” Annabelle asked, glancing around.

“Off in the card room as usual. You know he detests dancing.” Dolly snapped open her fan. “Goodness, it's warm in here. How in the world do they fit so many bodies in one room?”

“'Tis a matter of consequence,” Cilla said. “No London hostess can consider her event a success unless the guests complain about the terrible crush.”

“Seems silly to me.” Dolly waved her fan with more vigor. “Makes more sense to just invite the people you like and have room to breathe than to stuff your house full of a bunch of strangers. How we'll find Lord Raventhorpe in all this I do not know.”

“I'm certain Richard will find us without any
problem,” Annabelle said. “He probably attends these sorts of affairs all the time.”

“No doubt,” Dolly agreed. “And that means you'll be attending them too, sweetheart. How exciting!”

“I can hardly wait.” Annabelle gave the smug smile of a woman who knew her worth. “Mrs. Burke, how were you ever able to leave such a thrilling life behind? Don't you miss it?”

Before Cilla could respond, Dolly said, “Of course she did, dear, but she was in love. And when one is in love, everything else seems trivial.”

Annabelle glanced at Cilla as if for confirmation. Reluctantly she nodded. What else could she do? She dared not voice the disappointment of her marriage to the young girl. The private shame was her own to bear.

Dolly, in the meantime, was watching the crowd like a hawk over a flock of pigeons. “Aha! There they are.” Closing her fan with a snap, Dolly beamed at Cilla, an unnerving twinkle in her eyes. “I asked Lady Canthrope to invite someone for you, dear. She is a close acquaintance of the earl's family and was only too pleased to grant my request.”

Dread shot straight into her throat. Not another eligible gentleman! She had already deflected the well-meaning American's not so subtle attempts at matchmaking from the moment they had left the shores of New York until just a week ago, when Dolly had determined a local squire might be perfect husband material. “Dolly, we discussed this—”

“No, no.” Dolly waved a dismissive hand. “It's not
a man, though I haven't given up looking for a new prospective husband for you, dear. I still think that you're far too young for widow's weeds.”

Cilla let out the breath she had not realized she had been holding. “I appreciate your concern, but as I have told you before, I am not looking for marriage.”

“No, this is a much more wonderful surprise.” Dolly clasped her hands together with a clap, fan dangling from the tie on her wrist. “I've invited your family.”

“What?” Cilla snapped her head around, following the path of Dolly's gaze. Her mother and sister were approaching—and much too quickly for Cilla to hide.

Genny had grown, was her first thought. Then she met her mother's gaze—the hope lurking there, the uncertainty.
Oh, Mama.

Dear God, she was not ready to face them. Not yet. But it was too late now.

“I told Lady Canthrope we would be waiting in this lovely alcove and to send them over once they had gone through the receiving line.” Dolly took up her fan again and tapped Cilla on the arm with it, her face beaming. “I imagine it's been years since you've seen your family.”

“Yes.” Nearly four years, and her father's pronouncement of disinheritance still echoed in her heart.

“When I discovered they lived right in London, naturally I had to arrange for you to see them. After all, the wedding takes so much of your time and we'll only be in the city for a few more days.” Dolly's face
creased in concern. “I certainly hope it was all right of me to do that. You don't seem very excited.”

“The shock.” Cilla forced a smile as her family reached them. “It was kind of you to think of me, Dolly.”

“You're very welcome, dear.” Turning to Cilla's mother, Dolly held out her hands and trilled, “Mrs. Wallington-Willis, I sure am glad to meet you. I'm Mrs. Bailey, but you can call me Dolly. And this is my daughter, Annabelle.”

“A pleasure to meet you both. It was kind of you to ask Lady Canthrope to invite us.” Helen Wallington-Willis accepted Dolly's greeting, then sent a hesitant smile to her daughter. “Cilla. You're looking well.”

“Thank you, Mama.” How many times had she imagined this meeting? But always in her mind she had swept into the midst of society on a wave of success, not in the position of a mere employee. Swallowing past the tightness in her throat, she glanced at her sister. “Goodness, Genny, you're all grown up.”

“I
am
eighteen,” Genny said. No kindness lurked in her green eyes, only the banked fires of resentment. “It's been nearly four years after all.”

“Genny has already been presented to Her Majesty,” Helen said.

“How wonderful.” Cilla looked at her mother. “Where's Papa?”

Helen's smile never wavered. “The card room. You know how your father is.”

“Yes, I do.” So, he still had not forgiven her. That,
more than her mother's reserve or her sister's hostility, burned straight to her heart.

“Men and their cards.” Dolly sighed, rolling her eyes. “Heavens, do they think we can dance with ourselves?”

“I agree,” Helen said. “It seems that once a man has acquired a wife, he feels his days of dancing are over.”

“Richard is an excellent dancer,” Annabelle said. “I bet we'll dance together all the time, even after the wedding.”

“My daughter is engaged to Lord Raventhorpe,” Dolly explained to Helen, pride shining in her eyes.

“I saw the announcement in the
Times
. Best wishes, Miss Bailey.”

“Yes, best wishes.” Genny shot a sideways glance at Cilla. “Is it true that my sister is arranging the wedding festivities?”

“Why yes,” Dolly replied. “She's a godsend. I couldn't have navigated English society without her.”

“But you are standing in a corner,” Genny said, and with jerk of her dark curly head toward Cilla, added, “with the hired help. I fail to see how this counts as navigating society.”

Cilla's face burned, and Helen gave a little gasp. “Genevieve!”

“My apologies,” Genny said to Dolly and Annabelle. “I meant no offense to you.”

No, Cilla thought, not to them. But Genny had made it more than clear what she thought of her
older sister's life choices. What had happened to the cheerful young sprite who had followed her around everywhere before her marriage?

“Young woman, that was about the rudest thing I have ever heard,” Dolly said. Steely anger tinged her voice, a direct contrast to her normal cheerful demeanor. “She is your sister.”

The glee faded from Genny's eyes. “I apologized.”

“We shall talk about this later,” Helen said. “I would like to apologize as well for my daughter's behavior. To
all
of you.”

Annabelle eyed Genny with dislike. “It's clear to me that you don't know your sister at all.”

Genny stiffened. “Not anymore.” She looked at her mother. “Mama, I see Marguerite Jaxton. May I go speak to her? I want to see if she has heard more about that dashing American captain. It is rumored he is to make an appearance here this evening.”

Helen closed her eyes as if praying for patience and sighed. “Fine. Go. But I will come and find you in a few minutes. See that you stay close to Mrs. Jaxton.”

“I will. Nice to meet you,” she said to the Baileys, then turned and made her way toward her friend a short distance away.

“I apologize again for my daughter,” Helen said. “Especially to you, Cilla.”

“Already forgotten,” Cilla said, though Genny's attitude had indeed stung. But another matter had claimed her attention. “If I might ask—what dashing American captain was she talking about?”

“Oh!” Clearly grateful for the safer topic, Helen smiled. “About a week ago, a mysterious fellow they are calling the captain took London by storm. He's rumored to be phenomenally rich. People have been whispering about him for days. He rented a town house in Mayfair and paid in gold!”

“My heavens!” Dolly looked at Annabelle. “Do you suppose…?”

“He paid in gold?” Annabelle shook her head. “Then it can't be Samuel.”

“Oh.” The spark faded from Dolly's eyes. “You're right.”

“Who is Samuel?” Helen asked.

“A long story,” Dolly said, patting Annabelle's arm. “Annabelle was once engaged to a sea captain named Samuel, and he recently came to call on us at Nevarton Chase. But she ended that engagement, and now she is to marry the Earl of Raventhorpe.”

“An earl is certainly a better catch than a mere sea captain,” Helen said.

Dolly nodded. “My thoughts exactly. My Annabelle is as thrilled as bees at a honey festival to be marrying a real English lord.”

Helen blinked at the phrase. “Of course she is. What girl would not be?”

“Samuel didn't have a lot of money, certainly not enough to pay for a house in gold,” Annabelle said with a shrug.

“So this captain cannot be your Samuel,” Helen said.

“Oh, no,” Annabelle said. “It's impossible.”

Helen turned to Cilla. “All this talk of marriage
reminds me, Cilla. I saw Prescott Allerton as I came in.”

Cilla stifled a groan. “Indeed?”

“Quite. He is still unwed.”

“Who's this Prescott Allerton?” Dolly asked. “An old beau, perhaps?”

“I believe he held a
tendre
for Cilla at one time. He has advanced in rank to lieutenant in Her Majesty's Navy.” Helen gave Cilla a conspiratorial smile. “He is a man even your father would approve as a suitor.”

“Why that sounds just perfect!” Dolly beamed at Cilla.

Cilla shook her head. “I am certain Lieutenant Allerton has forgotten me after all these years, Mama.”

“Do not dismiss him out of hand,” Helen said. “I warn you, I intend to engage him in conversation and test his memory.”

“Mama!”

Ignoring Cilla's protests, Helen said, “If you will all excuse me, I had best find my daughter. I hate to leave her alone in this crush for long.” She reached for Cilla's hand and squeezed it. “I am so pleased to see you, my dear.”

Longing for the warmth of her family clogged her throat. Still she managed, “It was good to see you, too, Mama.”

Helen's serene expression faltered for a moment, and she released Cilla's hand. “I must find Genny. Please excuse me.” With a nod to all of them, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Cilla watched her go, her heart swelling with more emotion than she cared to entertain while standing in the middle of a crowded London ballroom. She had missed her mother desperately, the ache inside her made even more wrenching by their all-too-brief conversation. For one sharp moment, she dearly missed her old life in London society.

“Your mother is a darling lady,” Dolly said.

“She is.” Cilla blinked her stinging eyes. She would not weep for all London to witness. Such a loss of control would be the crowning glory for the gossips who watched her with avid attention, circling like carrion birds as they waited for her to make a mistake that would give the rumor mill more fodder. Only the presence of the incredibly wealthy Baileys had kept them at bay this long.

“Can't say the same about your sister,” Annabelle said. “Really, why was she so rude? If I had a sister like you, I'd be pleased as all get out to show her off to everybody.”

“Annabelle, hush,” Dolly murmured. “Your sister is young, Cilla. She must have missed you when you left.”

“Maybe so. But—” She broke off as the murmur of conversation in the ballroom dipped noticeably, though the orchestra continued playing and the dancers continued dancing. “What is happening?”

“I can't see much of anything through this crowd,” Dolly said.

The people around them began to shift.

“Maybe it's the queen!” Annabelle breathed.

“Her Majesty does not usually make an appearance
at functions like this,” Cilla said. “But apparently someone of note has arrived.”