The Romany Heiress (15 page)

The next day Cate learned that departing a house
party was an event of its own. Guests had slept until the
unthinkably late hour of 11:00 and then risen, dressed,
and ate a leisurely breakfast either in their rooms, as
many of the ladies chose to do, or in the breakfast parlor where Cate found herself so outnumbered by gentlemen that she quietly took her toast and tea out onto
the back verandah.

Afterward, the laconic nature of the household instantly transformed into action as if by tacit agreement
at precisely half past twelve, a barrage of servants would
begin the arduous task of packing and carrying traveling
trunks and bandboxes downstairs to the main hall.

Cate watched the growing piles of luggage in wideeyed amazement from her inconspicuous post, in a small
parlor off the main hall. The amount of clothing guests had brought to a five-day house party was overwhelming.
It was no wonder Isabella had dresses to spare. Cate
doubted the caravan’s entire wardrobe would have filled
more than two of the large trunks being stacked in the
hall. From there they would be loaded in the long line of
conveyances waiting in the drive.

That was another point of revelation. Several guests
had brought not one but two carriages with them; one
for his or her own traveling pleasure and another to
carry their servants where they would be organized into
piles before being transported to the conveyances lining the drive.

Then there was the whole business of leave-taking.
After the carriages were loaded with their cargo, the
guests began the long parade out in an orderly fashion,
which Cate was certain Giles had meticulously orchestrated so that no one was forced to sit in their carriage
while awaiting the departure of someone ahead of them
in line.

From her vantage point, she could glimpse Giles at
the front door with Isabella and Tristan at his side,
farewelling the guests, graciously accepting compliments, and promising to see everyone again in town at
the Little Season in a few months when hunting season
was over.

The words Little Season caused Cate to sit a bit
straighter. She focused on Giles. For a man whose right
to the title was being challenged, he looked supremely
confident, the promises to meet again flowing easily
from his lips. Either he was an accomplished actor, able to mask his feelings, or he truly wasn’t concerned. The
latter thought gave Cate pause. As the last carriage prepared to pull out of the drive, Cate was struck by the
gravity of her situation, by how much protection the
presence of the guests had afforded her.

With a house full of people, Giles had little time to
do anything in relation to clearing his name or debunking her claims. With that obstacle gone, there was nothing preventing him from pursuing whatever course of
action he wished to take. Perhaps he wasn’t concerned
because he had a veiled plan.

Cate thought of other things too. The warmth she’d felt
from Isabella and Cecile right up to the ball last night had
been absent this morning. Originally she’d accounted for
the former’s brusque tone when she’d poked her head
into the parlor and seen Cate sitting there as nothing
more than Isabella being busy with the departures.

Cecile had not left her rooms all day. That too Cate
had attributed to the lateness of the ball. Now she was realizing neither lady had sent down any trunks. No carriages had been ordered to bear them away. The signs
meant two things. First, the ladies and their formidable
husbands were staying. Second, Cecile and Isabella knew
why she was really there. Giles had stacked the deck.

The thoughts had barely registered when Isabella
swept into the little parlor, looking marvelously elegant
and composed in a cream-colored muslin gown sprigged
with tiny gold and green leaves. From her neat appearance, one would not guess she’d spent the better part of
the day seeing off the guests.

Cate had only a moment in which to plan her strategy. Should she let Isabella know that she knew Isabella knew her secret or should she let Isabella bring it
up? Prior experience with difficult fortunes to tell had
taught her that when in doubt, the best approach was to
let the other lead. She would learn far more about the
other party’s state of mind if she followed. One only
led when one was in a position of power to control the
situation. Cate knew that was not the case here. She
hadn’t the ammunition at her disposal to take the offensive with Isabella. She would let Isabella expose her
hand and then she could react appropriately.

“Are they all gone?” Cate asked with a forced air of
friendliness.

“Yes.” Isabella’s tone was distant. “Getting the
guests out is almost as difficult as getting them settled”

Isabella leveled her distinctive topaz eyes at Cate. It
was all the warning she would get. “Cecile and I have
rang for tea to be served in the music room. It’s quiet
and offers a serene prospect in the late afternoon with
its view of the gardens. Will you join us? All the loose
ends from the house party are being wrapped up even
as we speak. All except one.”

The imperious tone of her voice made it clear she
was not asking Cate to join them. She was commanding
it. Only a coward would seek a way out, and Cate was
no coward. Attaining Spelthorne would not be accomplished through spineless acts but by unabashedly proclaiming who she was. If she could not face two
women, she’d never muster the pluck to face far more dangerous audiences. She reminded herself sternly as
she followed Isabella down the warren of hallways
leading to the music room that she was in possession of
the truth. She was doing nothing wrong by asking for
what was legitimately hers.

The music room was indeed a place of potential quietude. The walls were painted a deep summer blue and
finished with white wainscoting. An elegant carpet featuring a peacock in blues, greens, and gold lay on the
floor. A small fireplace done in white to complement the
wainscoting sat on one wall, around which was arranged
the conversation area where they sat-Isabella presiding on the curved sofa upholstered in blue damask, Cecile and she perched on matching elegant chairs.

About the room, various instruments were placed: a
harp, a pianoforte, and a violin. If the situation were
different, Cate would have been eager to get her hands
on the violin, which shone from good care and varnishing. If the situation was different, the room would live
up to Isabella’s claim of serenity. But today, the air was
infused with tension.

Isabella poured out the tea from a blue and white
china teapot, giving an oral tour of the room as she did
so. “This tea set is by the Josiah Spode Company. Giles
is an avid collector of all things regal. His table is set
with nothing but the best. He has one of the premier
collections of Spode and Wedgwood china in the ton.
He bought this set especially for this room since the
color and pattern complement it so well.

“In fact, he had the decorators paint these walls `Wedgwood blue’ on purpose. The furniture is all done
in the Louis XV style. In the smaller, more intimate
rooms of the abbey, Giles has adopted the Regence fashion for furnishings like he has here. You will note the
delicate tracery on the arms and legs of the chairs you
and Cecile occupy. The rosewood used for them shows
off the workmanship in a most excellent fashion.” Isabella broke off her commentary. “Sugar with your tea?”

Cate declined and accepted the splendid cup and
saucer from Isabella. She was feeling overwhelmed by
the amount of information Isabella had imparted. To
her, the walls were simply blue like the summer sky
she’d camped beneath her entire life. The exquisite tea
set that matched its surroundings so perfectly was only
a happy coincidence. She had looked at the room,
found it beautiful but nothing more. Giles had looked at
this room and seen a place to make a masterpiece where
every element was carefully considered and laid out.
Nothing was left to chance.

If a bowstring were as taut as the tension filling the
room, it would snap. Isabella’s lesson could have not
been more obviously taught. Cate actually felt an enormous sense of relief when Isabella handed Cecile a
teacup and fixed Cate with a stare that indicated it was
time to get down to business. “I can see from my recitation, that you have no inkling of what I am talking
about and why it is important.”

Cate said nothing but merely held Isabella’s gaze.
The countess might be right, but Cate didn’t have to admit defeat.

A hint of a smile danced on Isabella’s lips. “Come,
Cate. Do you know who Josiah Wedgwood is? Do you
know what he did for the improvement of china?”

“No, I do not,” Cate said, purposefully keeping her
head erect. “Do you know how to read palms? Do you
know you can predict a man’s future by the length of
his life line?”

“Touche,” Isabella said, smiling over the rim of her
teacup. “I do not. But then, I am not attempting to infiltrate a gypsy camp and lay claim to the position of
fortuneteller.”

Isabella’s tone startled Cate. The last was not said
with the biting condemnation she had expected. She
also noted Isabella’s careful choice of words. Isabella
had said “lay claim” when she could have easily have
said “pass myself off as” Was there an ally of sorts
lurking beneath Isabella’s harsh lesson?

Cate decided to test her assumptions. “You mean,
pretending to be the heir to Spelthorne?”

“No, I mean laying claim,” Isabella said sharply.
“Whether you and Giles have a legitimate dispute over
the claim to Spelthorne is another issue entirely, one
which will resolve itself in time. True, Giles is our
friend. For me, he’s been a friend nearly my whole life. I
trailed after him and my brother Alain years before Tristan joined our circle. Last night Cecile and I were
shocked to hear the truth behind your sudden appearance
at the house party. However, Cecile and I have talked
since then and we’ve come to a conclusion, rather a few
conclusions.”

Cate sipped her tea to cover her surprise and quirked
an eyebrow, practicing one of the gestures she’d seen
Isabella make over the course of the last two days. This
was growing more interesting by the moment. Either
Isabella and Cecile were going to oust her from the
house or they had something planned that probably
didn’t include Giles’s seal of approval.

Cecile took over the conversation at this point, giving Cate a chance to study Alain’s wife. So much of her
interactions with the two ladies had been dominated by
Isabella. Now, for the first time, she concentrated on the
sherry-eyed woman with lustrous mahogany-colored
hair. Cecile was every bit as lovely as Isabella but compared side by side, Cecile lacked the grand presence
which Isabella exuded with ease.

In part, this was due to Isabella’s striking height, but
also Cate recognized it had to do with the breeding of a
lifetime. Isabella had been born to be one of society’s
leading ladies. Cate had seen it in her that very first
night on the Denbigh’s back verandah when she’d predicted Isabella would become a grande dame of the ton.

Cecile’s soft, French-accented tones drew Cate’s attention almost as much as what the woman was saying.
“Bella is right. Perhaps you and Giles have something
to work out. Yes, we were at first upset about the challenges you made against our friend. However, those
challenges will be resolved and when they are, you will
have a new life, no matter what the decision is. You
knew very well the risk you took the moment you stepped foot onto Spelthorne. There would be no going
back to the caravan no matter what happened here”

“That’s not true. The caravan would welcome me
back,” Cate stammered. The references to a “new life”
were confusing.

Cecile smile softly and gave a gentle shake of her
head. “Ma cherie, I am sure they would. However, I am
just as sure that you would never be happy there again
as you were in the past. It would never satisfy you. I
know. That was how it happened for me. When I met
Alain, I knew nothing would ever be the same for me.
Through him, I saw that there was another way to live.
I simply had to reach out and grasp it. Knowing that, I
could not go back to the old way of living.”

“Wait” Cate set down her teacup forcefully. “I am
not in love with the earl. You talk as if there is romance
brewing. There is nothing more between us than a legal
matter.”

Cecile nodded and gave a Gallic wave of her hand. “I
am not talking of love, at least not yet. My love for Alain
is an entirely different story, one that I might share at another time for another purpose. I only mean to say that
once we meet certain people in our lives, they change
those lives irrevocably, romance and love withstanding.”

“Just as long as we’re clear on that,” Cate said sharply,
feeling uncomfortable with the discerning glance Isabella
cast her direction.

“The point being, you will have a new life. Your new
life has already begun. Look at you.” Cecile gestured to the dress Cate wore. “You’re dressed fashionably, your
hair is done up by a lady’s maid. You’re drinking English tea from a Spode cup. You attended a ball and
danced with gentlemen. These are things which will
occur routinely in this new life you are embarking on”