The Seduction (37 page)

Her cousin seemed so distressed that Margaret spoke to cheer her. "How horrified Lady Lytton would be if she knew of this! I'm sure she'd look down her nose and say no British girl would ever let herself be abducted. How I wish I could tell the story just to see her face!"

Cornelia did not laugh. "You mustn't tell anyone. If word got out that you had spent a fortnight out in the wilds alone with Lord Ashton, there would be no end of a scandal, and your reputation would be ruined. Lord Ashton would also suffer for it, as would Edward and I, since we are acting as your chaperones."

"I know! I know! I promise I won't breathe a word. But people really are silly, aren't they? If they knew Trevor and I spent all that time alone together, they'd assume the worst possible things, and there's absolutely no reason for it."

Cornelia squeezed her hand. "I hope not," she said gently.

Margaret understood and blushed. "There isn't! Lord Ashton was— He didn't— I mean, nothing happened!" That wasn't the complete truth, but she certainly couldn't tell her cousin about those passionate moments in the cave and the meadow.

"I am glad to know he is a man of honor."

"Does Papa know about this?"

Cornelia was clearly horrified. "Heavens, no! He would never forgive me if he knew this had happened while you were in my care. Promise me you'll never tell Uncle Henry about this."

"Cornelia, you must not blame yourself, and I very much doubt that Papa would blame you either." She withdrew her hand and gave her cousin's back a comforting pat. "It angers me to think those men will never be brought to justice, but there's nothing we can do about that. I'm just glad Papa doesn't know. If he did, there'd be no end of a fuss. And since you and Trevor have been so cautious, no one else is going to find out what happened either."

"I hope not. Now, I'll send Molly to you and leave you to finish dressing."

Margaret watched her cousin's hasty departure, and again it struck her that her cousin's reaction to the whole affair was distinctly odd.

During the next few days, the subject of Margaret's kidnapping and rescue was scrupulously avoided. Cornelia was distracted and silent, Edward was too much the proper English gentleman to mention the subject, and Trevor spent most of his time resting. Now that he was taking his quinine again, by the third day after their arrival in Naples he was well enough that they began making plans for the journey home. Everyone was in agreement that they should leave as quickly as possible. All of them were eager to return to England, especially Margaret and Cornelia, who wanted to begin wedding preparations. Edward purchased tickets on the next available steamship, which would depart for Dover the following afternoon.

Trevor had already sent a wire to Henry, who had given them his consent and wholehearted blessing. He assured them that he would begin making the wedding arrangements. Margaret couldn't help being amused. She knew from her last conversation with her father that Trevor would not have been his first choice as a husband for her, but he wanted her married to a gentleman of quality so badly that even Trevor was deemed an acceptable choice.

As much as she wanted to be with Trevor during the journey home, Margaret was one of those unfortunate people who suffer from acute seasickness, and she was forced to spend the entire seven-day trip in her stateroom. Though Trevor wished to visit her, she could not bear the idea of him seeing her in such a wretched state.

When they disembarked at Dover, Henry was waiting on the quay to greet them, looking more ebullient than Margaret had ever seen him before. He shook Trevor's hand and congratulated him on winning the hand of the world's most beautiful girl, then he turned to her. "Maggie, my girl! You have made me a very happy man."

He enfolded her in one of his great bear hugs, and Margaret, very glad to see him and grateful to be on solid ground again, returned the hug and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad, Papa. I'm quite happy myself."

"Everything is arranged," he told her happily. "I obtained a special license, an announcement has been put in the papers, and the invitations have been sent out. The wedding shall be at St. Paul's at two o'clock in the afternoon on Saturday."

"Saturday!" Margaret cried. "But Papa, that's only three days from now! I don't even have a dress yet!"

*
    
*
    
*

Lucci
had spent over a week in Rome before he learned the whereabouts of Trevor St. fames. Immediately upon his arrival in the Eternal City, he had met with his brother, Antonio, and, between them, they had employed an army of detectives and engaged a network of contacts in all the major cities and seaports to search for his enemy. During the past week, their efforts had proved futile, and they had been unable to find any trace of Trevor. But on his eighth day in Rome, Lucci learned of Trevor's whereabouts by opening a newspaper.

The society pages of every paper in Europe, including the Roman ones, were suddenly filled with the news that British peer Trevor St. fames, the present Earl of Ashton, had recently become engaged to Miss Margaret Van Alden, only daughter of American millionaire Henry Van Alden. The groom, it was reported, had only recently acceded to his title, and having been in Egypt for the past ten years, was eager to return to his estates in Kent. Therefore, the
h^ppy
couple did not desire a long engagement and were to be married three days hence at St. Paul's in London.

Lucci tossed aside yet another newspaper. There was nothing more he could learn from perusing press reports. It was time for action. He rose from the sofa in his hotel suite and started to call for his brother so that they might make preparations to leave for London immediately. Suddenly, another thought struck him, and he paused with his hand on the bell pull.

Perhaps he was being hasty. Perhaps he should wait, postpone his vengeance a little bit longer. His hated enemy would soon have a wife, and that would provide the means for him to gain revenge for his beloved Isabella.

Yes, he decided, warming to the idea, that would be much better. Give him time to enjoy his wife, to take his happiness for granted. Then, and only then, take it all away from him.

Lucci smiled with quiet satisfaction. It was the perfect revenge.

It was amazing what could
be accomplished with money. Margaret's fears about her wedding gown proved groundless. Worth was out of the question, of course, at this late date, but Henry dispatched a cable from Dover to Madame Valmont, the head of London's finest couturier. By the time they arrived in London, she was waiting to receive them at her showroom on Regent Street with some of her finest spring models ready to display, dozens of fabrics and trims from which to select her trousseau, and an army of seamstresses to get it all done in three days.

Trevor did not accompany them to London, choosing instead to take a separate carriage to Ashton Park, located only fifteen miles west of Dover. He planned to see his family and look over his estates. Margaret was a bit glum about that, wanting him with her to face the journalists who would surely be hounding her
until Saturday. Nevertheless, she understood his reasons for going. He had told her that if the fuss of wedding preparations got to be too much for her, to send him an express cable at once and they'd simply elope, scandalizing everyone and giving the journalists something worthwhile to write about.

During the next three days, there were many times when Trevor's suggestion seemed quite appealing. The morning after their arrival in London,
Punch
ran a cartoon with a clear likeness of her purchasing the title of Lady Yankee-Doodle at
Harrod's
Department Store. It was most infuriating.

Edward was close by to keep her in good humor, reminding her of her own laughing words when similar jabs had been taken at Cornelia the previous year:
You should change the date to July fourth, play band music instead of the wedding march, have apple pie instead of fruit cake, and invite the rudest, most frightful people you can think of. That would serve them right.
Margaret had been joking when she'd said it last summer, but now it seemed like a fine idea.

The morning before the wedding, Trevor's mother, grandmother, and sister-in-law arrived in town and called at Henry's Mayfair mansion in the company of Lady Lytton to be introduced to the bride. Trevor, Margaret learned, would not return until the morning of the wedding. He had much to do at the estate.

The moment her future in-laws entered the drawing room, Margaret's eyes went straight to the tall, striking woman with touches of silver in her black hair. Her blue eyes and angular features were quite similar to Trevor's, and Margaret knew even before Lady Lytton introduced them that this was his mother.

"How do you do?" she murmured politely and gave the woman a tentative smile.

Her new mother-in-law did not return it. "A pleasure to meet you, my dear."

The greeting was so cold and formal that Margaret had no idea how to respond. Fortunately, Lady Lytton moved on with introductions and saved her the trouble.

She gestured toward a slender, incredibly beautiful blonde who was dressed in a manner far more luxurious than that of the other two ladies. "This is Elizabeth, Lady Ashton."

Margaret studied the woman, remembering Trevor's story about how Elizabeth had crawled into his bed one night for the sole purpose of producing an heir, and she could hardly credit it. This woman was as fragile and delicate looking as a Dresden doll, not at all like the evil vixen Margaret had imagined.

But the wide blue eyes of Geoffrey's widow looked back at her with such cold hostility that the sweet image was utterly spoiled. She made no attempt at civility, and Margaret reminded herself that appearances meant nothing.

Gesturing toward the plump, elderly lady at her left, whose attention seemed riveted on the nearby tea tray, Lady Lytton said loudly, "And this is the Dowager Countess."

The older woman continued to gaze at the pastries on the tray, and Lady Lytton jabbed her gently in the ribs. The dowager gave a start and looked up to give Margaret a beaming smile, clapping her hands together in the manner of a delighted child. "What a pretty thing you are!"

Margaret smiled in response to the elderly lady's friendliness, and the dowager turned to Edward. "These American girls have such lovely teeth," she told him. "No wonder our English gentlemen like them so much. And they do seem to have lots of boys, don't they?" She patted Margaret's hand. "You look like a fine, healthy girl, which is a good thing. You'll get pregnant right away, I'm sure. Boys, my dear. Lots of boys. May we have tea now?"

Cornelia smoothly ended the embarrassing silence. "Yes, by all means, let's have tea."

Cornelia's efficiency and good sense proved immensely valuable in helping Margaret through those trying days, and Saturday afternoon found her alighting from the wedding carriage in front of St. Paul's with a calm serenity that surprised even her. Taking her father's arm, she walked up the steps and managed to smile pleasantly at the crowd of journalists and curious observers that were lined up on either side.