Chapter 44

Mauleverer House is being opened up! was the whisper around the ton. Everyone agreed that this was excessively interesting news. It had been many years indeed since the grand mansion in Mayfair had hosted a ball or a rout party, and nobody much under the age of forty could boast of having even set foot inside. The late Duchess had been a notable hostess in her early married life, and had brought out her stepdaughter Lady Blanche in fine style some twenty years or more since, but Her Grace had lost her taste for society during her husband's long illness, and in later years spent most of her time in Yorkshire. Of course, the current Duke resided at the mansion when he was in London, but as a single man he had naturally not given any parties – or, at any rate, not the sort of parties that respectable people attended. Or admitted they attended. Young people, therefore, scarcely knew him, and it had been left to their elders to use him a species of bogeyman, a dire warning to incautious damsels of the wicked hands they might fall into if they failed to observe the proprieties at all times. (Whether such warnings had had the desired effect was entirely another matter.)

But now the other residents of Grosvenor Square could see for themselves that there was a great bustle of activity: decorators and other workmen went to and fro, furniture was removed and other furniture and furnishings delivered, and everyone agreed that the Duke and his bride must be planning to take up residence as soon as the work was done.

A handsome, wealthy gentleman with a dubious reputation, one who almost never showed his face in society but was known to have fought a duel and wounded his mistress's husband, then fled abroad to escape the consequences of the scandal he had created, was bound to be the subject of a great deal of gossip and speculation. This was particularly the case when he had so recently married a young and beautiful lady several years his junior. The current on dit said that His Grace had recently ventured into polite society for the first time in many years: several perfectly reliable people who had known him in his youth claimed to have seen his tall, unmistakeable figure at balls and parties during the season, and he had even obtained vouchers for Almack's – how? Why? – and penetrated between the august portals of that most respectable of institutions. While there he had not danced nor conversed with any young lady – no debutante had felt her virtue even slightly threatened, which was a sad disappointment to more than a few of them – and he had left quite soon after his arrival, having barely spoken to anyone at all during the duration of his stay and behaved in a manner discourteous, uncivilised, and undeniably thrilling. He had appeared, one fanciful and sharp-eyed matron had declared, to be looking for someone. His silver gaze had searched the room with electric intensity, seeking one particular person and evidently not finding them. Not finding her – surely, with his reputation, it must be a woman he sought, and for some amorous purpose. He had put the watching lady in mind, she declared, fanning herself vigorously, of a caged panther. Goodness, her auditors had murmured, taking up their own fans and plying them. They could all too easily picture it.

From this tantalising suggestion, this tiny nut of gossip, had sprung forth a whole forest of speculation. It was whispered that the Duke had set eyes on Lady Georgiana Pendlebury in some accidental way – in the street, perhaps, nobody was entirely sure, and it could hardly signify – and instantly conceived a violent passion for her. He had instituted enquiries and discovered her identity, then scoured the ballroom and drawing rooms of fashionable London in search of her. What, ladies asked each other, would he have done if he had found her? Asked for her hand in marriage directly – when they had never even been introduced – or carried her off a helpless captive, in thrall to his desperate obsession?

Many ladies shared an unvoiced regret that nothing quite so shocking had in fact occurred, but what had come next was in truth almost as exciting. The Duke had instituted an entirely fictitious search for a bride – for it was clear that he had with steely resolve already made his choice – and invited the cream of society to his sinister lair… that is to say, to his castle in the wilds of the North. Many ladies and their mamas had attended in innocent expectation, unaware that they were mere dupes, and, as the satanic nobleman had designed, Lady Georgiana had been among the party, entirely unaware of the danger into which she was placing herself. As soon as he had laid eyes on her once more, his passion had redoubled, and he had used all his considerable charm and experience of seduction in wooing the poor girl, to such good – that is, very bad – effect that the pair had been caught in a highly compromising situation, positively in the act, a mere day or two later by a large, horrified group of persons of rank who were attending a ball at his ducal seat. Possibly the ball had been organised with diabolical ingenuity for that sole purpose. It had all been a trap! The guilty lovers had announced their betrothal on the spot – Lady Georgiana's guardians were not consulted, and could have done nothing to prevent the match even if they wished to do so – and the Duke was triumphant, his wicked scheme having met with complete success.

But there was more! That Northriding had succeeded in mesmerising the young lady and putting her entirely in his power was made all too plain by the fact that when a deranged woman – undoubtedly, it was considered, a spurned mistress of the Duke's, one among many – had attempted to shoot him the very day after the wedding, his bride had flung herself in front of the weapon and risked her young life to save him, and been hideously wounded as a result. Her survival had been despaired of for many days, and the Duke was distraught at the thought of losing the prize he had so recently gained. Nothing half so intriguing had happened in years.

The activity in Grosvenor Square lessened and then ceased – the house was plainly finished – and the inhabitants of the square found all sorts of excellent reasons to pass by it and linger ingenuously near it on a daily basis, in the hopes that they would happen to be present when the residents arrived.

In fact, a pair of sisters living a few doors down from the ducal residence were one afternoon lucky enough to see an elegant black and silver travelling coach draw up outside the mansion, and immediately with great presence of mind concealed themselves, along with their accompanying maid, in the shrubbery of the square's garden to observe its occupants as they alighted. This was unladylike behaviour, but their mama later conceded that in their shoes she would have been sorely tempted to do the same. And the results of their subterfuge were all that could have been hoped for.

The carriage steps were let down by the waiting footmen, and a gentleman got down, then turned to assist someone inside the carriage. He was undoubtedly very tall, well-dressed and handsome, but he did not – at that precise moment – show any obvious signs of wickedness. The younger lady, an impressionable damsel of only sixteen summers, had half-expected him to be of a reddish complexion, sporting horns and a tail, and this was rather disappointingly not the case. A lady emerged from the coach and put her hand in his; she was of medium height and elegant figure, very stylishly dressed in a travelling pelisse of blue trimmed with silver braid, and she looked about her with bright interest as she alighted.

Georgie – for it was she – murmured, ‘Is it usual for there to be people watching us from concealment in the bushes, Gabriel? It seems most odd. And I feel – perhaps I am mistaken, but I do not think so – that there are many eyes on us, observing our arrival from the windows that overlook the square.'

‘I'm sure you're right,' her husband said, with the wicked glint in his eye that she had come to recognise. ‘I showed you Blanche's letter; I dare say she did not exaggerate the extent of the gossip that our marriage has created. Shall we give them something to talk about, my love?'

As he spoke, he took her in his arms and commenced kissing her ruthlessly, and when her lips responded eagerly to his and her arms came up about his neck, he picked her up and carried her up the steps and into the house, leaving the astonished footmen to scramble after them with a sad loss of dignity.

‘Well!' said the elder of the young ladies who had been witness to this thrilling spectacle with great satisfaction. ‘Just wait till we tell Mama! She will be mad as fire that she missed such a shocking sight!'