The Worldly Widow (51 page)

"My dear girl, do you want to bring me to my knees? Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to humble myself and tell you that I love you still and that I have never stopped loving you?
"
He went on one knee and clasped both her hands in his. "I
'
ll do all of these things and more,
"
he said passionately. "Please, just tell me what I have to do to change your refusal to
a 'yes.
'
"

"Nothing,
"
said Bertie.

"Bertie!
"
The cry was wrung from him. "I swear I
'
ll do anything you ask of me.
"

"Then you had better marry me,
"
said Bertie.

"What?
"
He looked deeply into her eyes. The love he saw reflected there stunned him. "You don
'
t hate me?
"
he murmured.

"I
'
ve never stopped loving you, Paul,
"
she said, and buried her head against his shoulder. "I only wanted to hate you. Can
you forgive me? I
'
ve had time to think about it. You see, I wasn
'
t blameless either, though I tried to pretend I was.
"

"But you were!
"
he protested.

"Sh! I won
'
t let you say so. What we did was wrong. But I
'
ve learned that life is too short to waste on regrets for the past.
"

He would never accept her verdict on their brief love affair, but he did not voice that thought. "Then kiss me, Bertie,
"
he said. "We
'
ve wasted too much time as it is.
"

She went into his arms without a protest.

Chapter Twenty

C
olonel Ransome lost no time in seeking out Dalmar to apprise him of the interesting information concerning Annabelle which Bertie had let slip. Though he did not think there was any urgency, he spent the remainder of the afternoon and early evening combing all the respectable gentlemen
'
s clubs, and not-so-respectable gentlemen
'
s dives, where there was some likelihood of finding the Earl. But no one could give him Dalmar
'
s direction.

He returned to Cavendish Square feeling not a little irritated with his friend. The Earl had been wallowing in self-pity, not to mention debauchery, for more than a week. It was time, thought Ransome, that Dalmar pulled himself up by his bootstraps and went back to the business of living. No sooner did that thought occur to him than he was smitten with self-reproach. When he had found himself in similar circumstances many years before, his conduct could not stand up to scrutiny either. In that moment, it seemed to him that a terrible lie had been perpetrated. In truth, it was men who were the softer sex. The women of his acquaintance suffered their misfortunes with an enviable fortitude.

He was ascending the stairs to his chamber when the Earl
'
s voice hailed him from the library door.

"Do we celebrate or drown our sorrows?
"

Ransome pivoted. His eyes swept the tall figure of the Earl. Dalmar appeared to be perfectly respectable, and as sober as a judge.

Smiling broadly, the colonel retraced his steps. "You may congratulate me,
"
he told Dalmar. "She has accepted me.
"

With much bac
kslapping and good natured cajolery, they entered the library together. No time was lost in toasting the lady
'
s health.

"When does the marriage take place?
"
asked Dalmar, settling himself more comfortably into the depths of his wing-back chair.

Ransome noted that Dalmar was nursing the glass of champagne in his hand as if it were hemlock. Swallowing a smile, he reached for the open bottle and replenished his own empty glass.

"As soon as may be, but not soon enough for my taste.
"

The Earl arched one brow.

"Bertie wants Annabelle to stand up with her when she says her vows,
"
explained Ransome. "If I had my way, we would wed tomorrow, before I leave for Paris.
"

"What are your plans?
"

"I
'
m selling out. You need not look so astonished. The war is over. I was never one of those career soldiers. I
'
ve done my duty. Henceforth I have every hope of adopting the quiet mode of a country gentleman. In short,
"
Ransome sipped his wine thoughtfully, "in short, the appeal of family life, with my wife at my side and a quiverful of children at my knee, is about as much excitement as I shall ever wish for.
"

Some of the light went out of the Earl
'
s eyes, but he had a smile in place when Ransome looked up. "A laudable ambition,
"
he murmured and inwardly winced at the trace of bitterness he could not erase from his voice.

Ransome tactfully changed the subject. "But, my dear chap, what am I thinking of? I have something of a particular nature I wish to say to you.
"
And he recounted his conversation with Bertie as it touched on Annabelle.

The Earl heard him out in silence. Finally, he said, "Am I to understand that Annabelle has it in her power to write down, word for word, a complete version of Monique Dupres
'
s diaries?
"

"You are.
"

"I
'
ve never heard of such a thing!
"

"Haven
'
t you? It
'
s a strange phenomenon, but not unheard of. I think there is a name for it, but I
'
ve forgotten what it is.
"

"She never said anything to me about this—this trick memory!
"

"No! Nor did she tell you about the break-in at Bailey
'
s.
"

The Earl jumped to his feet and paced furiously about the room. "This is nonsensical! I have my own man at Bailey
'
s. He said nothing to me about a burglary or an attack on Annabelle.
"

"It happened at night. Perhaps that
'
s why.
"

"What the hell was she doing there at night? And why didn
'
t she report it to the authorities, or tell
me?
"

Mildly, soothingly, Ransome replied, "Who can say how a woman
'
s mind works? But there is no cause for this alarm, surely?
"

Dalmar impatiently combed his fingers through his hair. "How can I say? This puts a different complexion on things. The diaries were stolen—you
'
re sure of that?
"

"Quite. So you see, if someone was after them, he
'
s got what he wanted. And as I told you, she
'
s rather shy, or so Bertie said, of boasting about this particular gift of hers. Few people know of it. It
'
s not likely that she
'
ll be troubled again.
"

"I can
'
t see that that follows. Knowing Annabelle, she
'
ll start over and publish those damned diaries if only to spite
me.
"
Dalmar threw himself into his chair. "I don
'
t like it, Ransome,
"
he said. "I just don
'
t like it.
"
A thought sprang to his mind, and he sat forward in his chair. "She was attacked at Lewes!
"

"You never mentioned that before!
"

"I had my reasons.
"
He was on his feet again and striding to his desk. He returned a moment later with a folded newspaper. "Here, read that!
"
He pointed to the bottom of the page. "It arrived this morning.
"

Ransome took the paper from him. When he had finished reading it, his face was very grave. "So,
"
he said, "the woman they pulled from the river Ouse has been identified.
"

"Mrs. Rosa Snow.
"

"Annabelle
'
s double, according to Bertie.
"

Both men looked at each other for a long interval.

"What now?
"
asked Ransome softly.

Dalmar
w
as already striding for the door. "We leave for Paris as soon as may be.
"

A
nnabelle was having the time of her life. Every one of her friends should have known it. She told them so a dozen times a day. And she was very careful to keep a smile pinned on her face from the moment she stepped out of her chamber in the Hotel Breuteuil till the moment her maid, Nancy, blew out the candles at night. The strain of it all was beginning to tell on her.

"What
'
s on for tonight?
"
asked Henrietta, her comprehensive glance taking in the group of elegantly dressed young people who made up their table in the hotel
'
s public dining room.

"The Palais Royal?
"
suggested Annabelle hopefully.

In the three days since they had arrived in Paris, she had fallen in with her companions
'
wishes. Like any group of tourists, they
'
d done the sights. She had hoped for a little time for personal business. But her friends were too solicitous by half for her own good. She had not had a moment to call her own. And since they stuck to her like glue, she had determined to achieve her real object in coming to Paris right under their very noses.

"The Palais Royal,
"
she repeated with more conviction when she observed the uncertain frown which puckered John Falconer
'
s brow. "I
'
ve been there before,
"
she said, and added persuasively for the ladies
'
benefit, "The shops in the galleries will bowl you over. You
'
ve never seen their like before. London milliners and such like are very provincial in comparison.
"

"Shops? Why didn
'
t you say so before?
"
asked Lady Diana. "I thought it was just some ancient relic of a building like all the others we
'
ve traipsed through in the last three days.
"

"Hardly,
"
interposed Falconer. "And not to put too fine a point on it, it
'
s not the sort of place where a lady of quality would wish to be seen.
"

"Do tell us more,
"
purred the Honorable Miss Loukes, batting her eyelashes at the young man. She had taken a fancy
to him, and didn
'
t try to conceal it.

"It
'
s a warren of gaming houses and
…
and suchlike,
"
he ended lamely.

If he had lavished the place with extravagant encomiums, he could not have whetted the ladies
'
appetites more.

"You mean, it
'
s wicked?
"
asked Henrietta, her eyes as round as saucers. "A den of iniquity?
"

"Precisely!
"
he exclaimed. He cast a wild look at the other gentlemen at the table.

It was Mr. Loukes who answered that look of urgent appeal. "Put one foot in that building,
"
he told the ladies flatly, "and you
'
ll be accosted by every loose screw who thinks you are no better than you should be.
"

Mr. Loukes had sadly mistaken his audience. These damsels were no set of shrinking debs but, or so they accounted themselves, a bevy of dashers quite up to the mark on all suits.

"But if Annabelle went there
…"
began Miss Loukes persuasively, only to be silenced by a ferocious frown from her brother.

"We haven
'
t been to the cathedral yet,
"
pointed out Falconer.

The ladies groaned their disappointment.

"Quite frankly,
"
said Lady Diana, "I think you gentlemen are too nice in your notions for my taste.
"

A chorus of female voices seconded her opinion.

The gentlemen became more entrenched in their position.

It was Lord Temple who poured oil on troubled waters. "When were you last there?
"
he asked John Falconer.

"Some months ago. September, to be exact.
"

"Not long after the occupation? Well, that explains it. I assure you, things are very different now. It
'
s quite the thing for English ladies to do a tour of the Palais Royal. As long as they are well escorted, I don
'
t see the harm in it. No, really, Wellington
'
s discipline is very much in evidence. The guards patrol there regularly.
"

The other gentlemen gradually gave way before Lord Temple
'
s considered opinion. He was their senior by several years and an acknowledged man of the world. In comparison, they felt like very small fry indeed. Only one gentleman held to
the strength of his convictions.

"All the same…"
began John Falconer.

Annabelle rushed into speech before he could turn the tide of opinion. "If you don
'
t wish to come, John, suit yourself. Frankly, I don
'
t wish for anyone
'
s escort. I
'
m quite prepared to go with only my maid.
"

After that unequivocal declaration, the gentlemen gave way. Not unnaturally, the ladies were delighted.

I
n the
attaché
'
s
office at the British Embassy in the Rue St. Honore, three gentlemen sat conversing around the warm blaze of an open fire. Two of those gentlemen bore the marks of a long and wearying journey. Their spurred boots were mired to the knee; their cloaks, which were thrown over the back of a chair, were filthy and soaked through. Lines of exhaustion lent each man
'
s countenance a forbidding aspect. One of those gentleman
'
s voices was raised in anger.