Waltz With a Stranger (12 page)

“Perfectly acceptable, Mr. Sheridan,” Amy assured him. “And in the meantime, I can devote some further thought as to how I wish to appear in my portrait.”

“An excellent idea. Although, if you’ll forgive the liberty…” again that faint smile warmed his eyes, “I think pirate dress would scarcely do you justice.”

Feeling unaccountably flustered, Amy bade him a dignified farewell and took her leave, drawing her veil over her face as she left the house.

Unbidden guests

Are often welcomest when they are gone.

—William Shakespeare,
King
Henry
VI, Part One

“Mr. Augustus will see you, Lord Trevenan.” The butler sounded almost astonished to be making such an announcement.

James felt rather surprised himself. He’d called twice before, only to be told that the man he sought—the second son of Baron Shenstone and one of Gerald’s former cronies—was not at home. Today, however, the butler showed him into a spacious breakfast parlor, where the Honorable Augustus Burton was filling his plate from a laden sideboard.

Nearly noon, and Burton was just sitting down to breakfast; James had never understood how Londoners could sleep the whole morning away. Glancing at his host’s pallid complexion and bleary eyes, however, he suspected Burton had likely spent the previous night carousing with his friends and not got in until quite late. Gerald had been the same, when he was alive.

Somewhat curtly, Burton invited his guest to partake of the various dishes on the sideboard. Although James had already breakfasted, he took a slice of toast, poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver urn on the table, and sat down opposite his host.

“So, what brings you to my door, Trevenan?” Burton inquired, looking up from his plate.

“I wished to speak with you on a business matter,” James replied. “I understand from my solicitor that my late cousin acquired some shares from you—in Mercer Shipping?”

Burton’s face darkened. “What of them?” he asked brusquely, forking up his kedgeree.

Undeterred by his host’s lack of graciousness, James continued mildly, “I was hoping you could tell me more about the company itself.”

Burton shrugged. “Don’t know what you expect to hear from
me
, Trevenan. I had those shares for just a few months—legacy from a distant cousin on my mother’s side. Never got the chance to find out more before I lost ’em.”

Or
simply
couldn’t be bothered
. James suspected that Burton, like Gerald, was generally disinclined to concern himself with the nature of his assets, beyond the fact of whether they made money or not. But he kept that opinion firmly to himself.

Burton stared gloomily down into his cup. “Hadn’t intended to, but I’d already bet everything else that night—didn’t want to throw in my hand. I was sure my luck would turn if I stayed in. So I put ’em on the table, and Alston won the whole pot on his next trick!” He lapsed into brooding silence.

James waited for him to continue. Fortunately, Burton’s sense of grievance was still strong nearly a year after that fateful card game.

“Didn’t know those damn shares would return such a profit, or I’d never have parted with them to begin with. Alston wouldn’t sell either when I approached him about buying them back,” Burton added resentfully. “Even
after
I was back in funds. He decided to purchase more of the bloody things instead. Didn’t even have the decency to let me know who the other shareholders were so I could have a chance at them myself.”

“How did Gerald find out who the other shareholders were?”

“Paid
my
solicitor a large retainer to look into it, if you can believe the bloody cheek,” Burton said, scowling. “He’s the one who handled the transfer of shares from me to Alston. Ought to sack him for his disloyalty, but he’s been in charge of my family’s finances for years.”

“Might I trouble you for his name?”

“Dunning. Alfred Dunning. He’s got his offices in Lincoln’s Inn.” Burton paused, peering at James suspiciously. “Might I ask what your particular interest is in this affair, Trevenan?”

James hesitated, but he saw no reason to bring up Mercer and his offer to buy back the shares, not when he had his doubts about the man. “As Gerald’s heir, I wish to learn as much as possible about his investments and holdings,” he replied. “My solicitor informed me that Mercer Shipping was quite a recent acquisition and his own knowledge of the company is incomplete.”

Burton’s pouchy eyes brightened. “I don’t suppose you’d consider parting with your shares, if I offered you a good price?”

“I’m afraid I’m in no position to entertain an offer at this point, Mr. Burton,” James said as pleasantly as he could. He pushed his chair back from the table. “I must be going now. Thank you for your time—and good day.”

As he took his leave, it occurred to him that he hadn’t heard a word of regret or sorrow from Burton regarding Gerald’s death. His cousin’s cronies did not appear to greatly mourn his loss. A sobering reflection, given how much time he’d spent with them. But then, James did not know how deeply Gerald himself would have grieved, had one of his companions perished last New Year’s Eve. All the same, it seemed a sad thing to leave the world at barely thirty years of age and have no one care one way or the other.

Taking a hansom to Lincoln’s Inn, he discovered from Mr. Dunning’s secretary that the solicitor had left London to attend to a client in Manchester. Undaunted, James secured an appointment for the day Dunning was expected back; his new title accomplished that at least.

One more stop after that, to the office of an inquiry agent Thomas had recommended for his competence and discretion. Once that business was concluded, James headed home, just in time to dine and dress for the ball to which he was escorting Amy, her mother, and sister.

Stepping into his carriage, he reflected bemusedly that he was coming to lead a double life, investigating shady business dealings by day, attending the most exclusive Society functions by night. What a relief it would be when this business was settled and he could return to Cornwall with his future bride and her family. Comforted by the prospect, he leaned back in his seat and resigned himself to yet another glittering evening.

***

“More rouge, mademoiselle—or a soupçon more powder?”

“No, thank you, Suzanne. That will be all, I think.” Aurelia studied herself in the glass. The curled fringe at her brow and the ringlets at her temples worked their usual magic in drawing the eye away from her scar, the line of which had been softened, though not concealed, by powder. “Never let anyone think you have something to hide, something of which you are ashamed,” Claudine had told her when first teaching her how to apply cosmetics. “That will make everyone believe you are something to be unmasked, stripped bare.”

Sound advice, Aurelia thought now. She mightn’t be proud of her scars, but she’d learned to live with them. It was up to her to convince through her own demeanor that they were the very least part of her appearance. All the same, she was glad that the rest of her toilette passed muster. She wore green tonight, a bright, clear shade, along with earrings and a necklace in the shape of enameled leaves, green and gold. The color became her, gave her added confidence that she knew she needed tonight. Her first ball, her first major public appearance since her return, held by Lady Warrender—a fashionable young matron who’d become friendly with Amy.

“You look wonderful, Relia,” Amy declared, coming up behind her.

Aurelia smiled at her twin, bright as a sunbeam in a jonquil-yellow gown. “So do you.” Picking up her fan, a delicate creation of painted silk mounted on ivory sticks, she rose from her chair. “Enough primping. Time we were on our way.”

Suzanne placed the velvet evening cloak over her mistress’s shoulders, and the sisters went downstairs, where their mother and Lord Trevenan awaited them. The carriage conveyed them to a splendid mansion on Park Lane, large enough to have its own grounds and gardens, as well as a ballroom spacious enough to accommodate the cream of Society. Lady Warrender and her husband—an attractive, fair-haired man of perhaps thirty-five—stood at the head of the stairs, greeting their guests with what appeared to be genuine pleasure.

After welcoming Lord Trevenan and Mrs. Newbold, Lady Warrender turned to Amy. “Delighted you could attend, Miss Newbold. And this must be your sister?” The baroness’s brown eyes were warm and friendly. “The resemblance is truly remarkable.”

Aurelia did not doubt their hostess had seen her scar. But her breeding, along with the kind heart Amy had sworn she possessed, would have precluded any mention of it.

“My twin, Aurelia,” Amy confirmed. “She’s just returned from abroad.”

“So glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Aurelia,” Lady Warrender said, smiling at both sisters. “Is this your first ball of the Season?”

“Indeed it is, Lady Warrender,” Aurelia replied. “Though I hope it may not be the last.”

“So may we all, my dear. I hope that you enjoy every moment of it,” she added, before turning to greet the guests who had come up behind them.

Lord Trevenan offered Amy his arm and led the way down the grand staircase into the lavishly bedecked ballroom. As always, they looked wonderful together, their contrasting good looks emphasized by his dark evening clothes and her golden gown. Accompanied by her mother, Aurelia followed in their wake, buoyed by the memory of her reflection in the glass. If no longer her sister’s equal in looks, she felt she was no disgrace to her present company.

As was only to be expected, Amy and her betrothed attracted most of the attention, though Aurelia was conscious of a few glances cast in her direction—more curious than hostile, fortunately. But she kept a smile upon her lips, letting her gaze rove about the ballroom, hung with pale peach-colored silk and decorated with massive arrangements of roses at the height of their bloom. Lady Warrender clearly had exquisite taste.

More guests arrived, and the musicians struck up a quadrille, the opening dance of the evening. Scarcely had the first notes sounded when Lady Warrender appeared, accompanied by a tall, broad-shouldered young man with fair hair and an open, attractive face whom she introduced to Aurelia as William Sutcliffe, Viscount Sutcliffe’s heir.

Mr. Sutcliffe bowed. “Might I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Newbold?”

His face and manner were both so pleasant that Aurelia did not hesitate to accept. Conscious of her mother and sister’s delight, she let him lead her onto the dance floor. Her left leg did not so much as twinge when she walked, though she supposed the slight halt in her step might be noticeable to someone consciously looking for it. Still, a quadrille was far more sedate than a polka or a galop. And after three years of being a wallflower, she felt a thrill of excitement at once again taking part in the very first dance at the ball.

Smiling at her partner, she took her place opposite him in the set. A new era in her life was about to begin, and she meant to enjoy every moment of it.

***

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?” James asked, drawing his betrothed into their first waltz.

Amy’s blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes! Everything’s going splendidly. Have you noticed that Relia has danced almost every dance so far?”

“Indeed I have,” he assured her. “She’s having quite the triumph this evening.” With difficulty, he managed not to glance in the direction of a certain green gown swirling in and out of the throng; its wearer was well on her way to becoming the belle of the ball tonight.

“It’s just what she deserves,” Amy declared stoutly. “Do you know, I don’t think she’s looked back once since that quadrille with Mr. Sutcliffe. One of your friends, my lord?”

James shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t claim the credit for that association. Sutcliffe is one of Thomas’s friends, a viscount’s heir and a very good fellow, I’ve been told.”

“Oh!” Amy’s brow furrowed slightly. “Did Mr. Sheridan
tell
him to ask my sister to dance? As a favor, perhaps?”

“He might have made the initial suggestion, but he wouldn’t have required Sutcliffe to claim more than one dance. As you see he has already done.” James nodded toward the couple.

“A quadrille
and
a waltz,” Amy mused aloud. “That might prove fruitful ground, mightn’t it, Trevenan?”

“It might.” James quickly suppressed the odd pang he felt at the thought. Aurelia was a lovely young woman coming into her own, he reminded himself, or rather, coming
back
into her own. No wonder London society was so eager to make her acquaintance, the young men especially. As Amy had said, she deserved every moment of this triumph.

Amy—his betrothed, who deserved
his
full attention.

Fortunately, she did not appear to notice any neglect on his part. In fact, her attention had strayed to another corner of the room. “Talking of Mr. Sheridan, I did not realize that he and Lady Warrender were on such close terms.”

Following the line of her gaze, James observed that Thomas had arrived and was engaged in conversation with their hostess, who was smiling warmly up at him.

A faint, speculative frown creased Amy’s brow. “Is she perhaps a patroness of his?”

Surprised at her curiosity, James said, “She might be, but I doubt that’s the reason. They’ve known each other since they were children—their families are neighbors in Devon.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Really? I didn’t know.”

“I told you Thomas has a vast number of connections,” James reminded her. “I don’t know the Martins well personally, but—”

“Martins?” Amy interrupted him. “Would Lady Warrender’s Christian name happen to be Elizabeth, by any chance?”

Elizabeth?
James just managed to contain his surprise. How had his fiancée found out about
her
? Surely not from Thomas. “Lady Warrender’s Christian name is Eleanor. Elizabeth was her older sister, I believe.”

“Was?” Amy echoed, clearly startled.

James hesitated a moment before replying. “She died some years ago.”

“Oh!” An expression that seemed equally composed of shock, regret, and remorse flashed across Amy’s lovely face. “How very sad.”

“Yes.” James debated whether to say more, then decided any further details were Thomas’s to relate, not his.

Once the waltz had quavered to a close, he bowed to his intended and led her from the floor. Her partner for the Lancers Quadrille would be waiting—and so would his, he realized with an odd little shock. He was engaged to dance it with Aurelia.