Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

A WINTER SOIREE

G winnie stood with her grandmother in the ballroom of Lady Oakley's townhouse. Last year, during the dreary, cold weather, Lady Oakley redecorated her house from the Chinese décor influence to Egyptian décor influence, with pyramids and camels and sphinxes replacing snarling dragons.

"Where did Lady Oakley get her designs from?" Gwinnie asked her grandmother as she looked about the room. By the press of people in attendance, one would hardly believe that most of London society remained out of the city following the holidays. Lady Oakley and her grandmother had certainly outdone themselves to get this many people to attend on such short notice.

"Sally has relations who have traveled through Egypt, trying to find the source of the Nile River. They weren't successful; however, their stories influenced her."

Gwinnie nodded. "With so much gold in the décor, the dress I am wearing blends in. I should have worn my green ballgown."

Her grandmother looked at the gold net with the white silk undergown Gwinnie wore. It sparkled in the candlelight. Across her arms she carried a gold Chinese silk shawl worked with colorful flowers at either end. Unfortunately, not all of Gwinnie's bruise had faded away; however, Rose had arranged for one side of her hair to drape down, shadowing one eye and covering most of the bruise, then swirl up to be caught in a gold-and-diamond comb. It was not in any current style; however, it suited Gwinnie, giving her a dramatic look that her grandmother quite liked.

"You look beautiful," her grandmother said. "The white and gold makes your red hair stand out more."

"And that is a good thing?" Gwinnie teased, her eyebrows rising in doubt.

"You know it is— Ah, look, the Harleighs have arrived, late as I requested to the earl. The Dowager Countess doesn't know it yet; however, they will be going against convention when they are introduced. First the Altons shall be announced," the duchess said as she raised her hand and gave a slight wave.

Gwinnie tried to see who she was waving at. It appeared to be the Dowager Marchioness of Alton on the arm of Lord Louis Rumport. They appeared to be laughing together as they approached the receiving line.

"Lady Alton had no one to escort her to society events, particularly her youngest grandson, Richard. He was off following in your father's shadow, researching new inventions."

"Are you implying Lady Alton wrote those awful letters?"

"I'm not implying, I know she did. She admitted it to me when I paid a call on her Thursday. In that scatter-witted brain of hers, she thought if she could stop your father from researching new inventions, her grandson would as well. She assumed she would be doing both of us a favor by having more of their attention."

"That is the most ridiculous reason I have ever heard," said Gwinnie.

"I know, but that is our dear Emily," her grandmother said with a sigh. "She said she got the idea from a book she read."

"So why is she now on the arm of Lord Rumport instead of one of her grandsons?"

"The poor dear is lonely. So is Lord Rumport, so I suggested they attend society events together. They may part ways once they arrive; however, they will have company arriving and leaving, avoiding any pitying glances or whispers, and keep society wondering," her grandmother said with a knowing smile.

Following the announcement of Lady Alton and Lord Rumport came Lord Alton and his sons.

With Lady Alton's introduction setting the order of precedent for the oldest family members to be introduced despite rank, Lady Harleigh was encouraged forward for her introduction. She did not understand why she went before her son but recovered and smiled at everyone, greeting Lady Sally Oakley.

In the back of the large room, Gwinnie's quartet was setting up. She saw them and turned to walk toward them. Her grandmother stopped her. "You have to see what comes next."

Gwinnie looked at her quizzically, but stayed as she requested.

The next introduction was to be the Earl of Harleigh. He stepped forward with his wife Cornelia, on one side and suddenly— Lewis on his other side!

"What?" Gwinnie breathed. She placed a gloved hand over her mouth for fear she would squeal. Her eyes danced. She grabbed her grandmother's forearm as she bobbed on her toes excitedly.

"Lord Jack Rockwell, Earl of Harleigh, his wife Lady Cornelia Harleigh, and his brother, Mr. Lewis Martin," intoned the butler.

A roar of gasps and whispers rose in the room. Gwinnie's eyes gleamed as she looked at them, her lips compressing against tears.

Harleigh and Lewis wore nearly identical evening attire of midnight blue coats and dress trousers with gold-and-blue waistcoats. Even their neckcloths were tied the same. The only difference between them was the jeweled stud in their cravats. Standing next to each other in the candlelight at the top of the stairs, no one could argue against a relationship between the men.

The voices in the room grew louder.

The duchess pulled Gwinnie closer to where the Dowager Countess stood. She looked about ready to yell, her eyes bulging from their sockets, her mouth opening.

The duchess grabbed the countess's arm and pulled her around to face her. "It is too late, Elizabeth. You will only look the fool."

"You, you arranged this! Well, it is not over yet," hissed Lady Harleigh. "I can still ruin your granddaughter."

"You can try, but you will find no one will believe you. I know you picked up those rumors at the snuff shop. Mr. Simmons admitted to spreading rumors about Mrs. Southerland's charity house at the inquest into her murder. It is all documented as part of the inquest proceedings."

Devastation suffused Lady Harleigh's complexion with red.

Lewis came up beside Gwinnie. He tucked her arm through his, smiling at her.

"You bastard," Lady Harleigh spat at him.

"You have made that abundantly clear over the years," Lewis said. "Now if you will excuse me, I will take Gwinnie over to the refreshments for a celebratory glass of champagne with Jack and his wife," he said with a slight bow.

Lady Malmsby grabbed Lady Harleigh's arm. "Elizabeth," Lewis and Gwinnie heard Lady Malmsby say softly as they walked away, "you don't want to cause a scene here. It would not look good for you…"

Gwinnie enjoyed spending time with Lady Cornelia and Lord Harleigh. With Lewis, she met many people who said they'd been to events where her quartet played and were glad to finally have an opportunity to meet her. The kind words all around her made her realize how she'd hidden behind her music. When she said as much to Lewis, he nodded.

"Personally, I confess to being glad you hid," he told her. "If you hadn't, you'd have been married long ago."

Gwinnie laughed. "I doubt that!"

"I don't," said her grandmother, coming up to them.

"Lewis is the only man who has not been intimidated by my being taller."

"There are other gentlemen in society taller than you, and I've seen you hide away from meeting them."

Gwinnie made a sour face. "I wasn't ready," she finally said.

Her grandmother laughed. "That I can believe— Lewis, I believe Lady Elizabeth Harleigh feels embarrassed and contrite for her attitude this evening."

Lewis cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

"No, it is true," said the dowager duchess. "I and Lady Oakley have been much in conversation with her this evening. We have listened to her— which she feels no one has ever done before— and did not ridicule her. She feels more in charity with her son for accepting you, and for you not attempting to take any glory from being his brother."

Lewis laughed. "Glory? Glory in what?"

"That you do not seek favors due to your close relation to a peer of the realm."

Lewis snorted. "I have no need of favors."

"If she comes up to you tonight to apologize, please hear her out. You do not need to agree, but let her speak."

"I will do that much for my brother."

"I should think her charity will be short-lived when she discovers you met with Mr. Scruthers yesterday," Gwinnie said.

He shrugged agreement.

"Who is Mr. Scruthers?" asked the duchess.

"My father's solicitor," Lewis explained, "and keeper of all his documents, including one that signed over his Rosevale property to me the year before he died."

The duchess looked at him sharply. "Is this a property Lady Harleigh wanted?"

Lewis compressed his lips before he spoke. "Yes. Jack told me she was confused as to why it was not mentioned in the will. Then she assumed it had already been gifted to her and the old earl forgot to tell her. Evidently, he signed over or sold minor properties to others at various times if they looked like they might put demands on other resources. His only mention of the property in his will was a request that Mr. Fortingay continue to manage the property."

"And you did not know you owned this property?" the duchess asked.

He shook his head with a wry smile.

Gwinnie explained, "Lady Cornelia told me Lady Harleigh intended to make it her dower property, even though there is a small dower estate connected to the earl's acreage. Rosevale is larger, and Lady Cornelia said it is beautiful, with the most magnificent gardens she has ever seen." She looked at Lewis. "I can't wait to see it myself."

"I haven't seen it since before I went to university," Lewis said. "It was a property that was in my mother's marriage settlements, if she had married my father."

"Ah," acknowledged the duchess, nodding. "That explains why he gave it to you."

"And why Lady Harleigh wanted it. She has always been jealous of my mother," Lewis said.

"She and I did speak about her jealousy. She said it has possessed her for longer than you have been alive. I told her I understood why she would have such feelings, but it was time to put them aside. She agreed," the duchess told them.

Lewis looked at the duchess askance. "I don't believe it."

"Lewis, give the woman a chance at least."

"As I said a moment ago, for my brother's sake, I shall," he reluctantly said. He saw his brother and Cornelia joining a set on the dance floor. He turned to Gwinnie. "This dance, my lady?"

Gwinnie looked at him in delighted surprise. "Most assuredly!"

"I haven't had occasion to dance since my university days, but I think I remember how," he assured her.

Gwinnie laughed. "You've probably had more occasion to dance than I."

"If either forgets the steps, we can whisper them to the other."

"Done," affirmed Gwinnie with a grin.

After the dance, Gwinnie was surprised to find herself the recipient of multiple requests for a dance. Lewis encouraged her to the dance floor, while he, at her grandmother's urging, danced with other young misses in society. Still, he kept his eyes darting back to Gwinnie, his bright beacon.

At the end of a dance, he escorted his partner back to her mother at the side of the room where the chaperones sat, then looked up to search out Gwinnie. He finally spotted her on the other side of the room in conversation with Lady Harleigh.

Every muscle in his body tensed, even though he witnessed Gwinnie smile and laugh with the Dowager Countess. His eyes narrowed. His hands curled into fists. He did not trust Lady Harleigh. He'd lived with her too long, suffered her abuse for too long to believe she could suddenly desire forgiveness.

"I say, Mr. Martin," said Lord Wolwich coming up to him.

Lewis waved him away, murmuring his apologies, as he started to make his way through the crowded room toward Gwinnie.

"Lady Guinevere."

Gwinnie turned at her name. Behind her stood Lady Harleigh, smiling at her. Gwinnie smiled tentatively back at her. "Lady Harleigh," she acknowledged with a slight inclination of her head.

"I'm so glad I caught up with you," the woman said.

"Indeed?"

"Yes. I know I have been odious to Mr. Martin. It is so hard to explain," she said. "Did you know he is the image of the late earl, my husband?"

"I have heard that, yes," Gwinnie replied, relaxing a little in the woman's presence.

"You should have seen my Jack and him when they were lads, running about the estate, getting in all manner of mischief," Lady Harleigh said with a memory smile.

Gwinnie laughed, "I can imagine so. That is the way of young boys, isn't it?"

"Yes, indeed," agreed Lady Harleigh. "Would you walk with me for a bit? I need to get out of this stuffy, noisy room. We could talk about the two men as boys," the Dowager Countess said, hooking her arm with Gwinnie's.

Gwinnie was suspicious of the countess; however, there was nothing in her manner that displayed animosity. Gwinnie allowed herself to be led out of the ballroom.

"I'm not surprised Mr. Martin joined Bow Street," Lady Harleigh said in a chatty fashion. "He was a right-versus-wrong child. He liked law, and spent the most ridiculous amount of time helping villagers. The old earl tried to get him to be a solicitor, thought it a good job for him since he would need to work."

"You say job as if it were a dirty word," Gwinnie observed.

Lady Harleigh stopped a moment. "Well, jobs aren't bad, they are just not for us, you know."

Gwinnie frowned. "No. I don't know. Isn't being a peer a responsibility?"

"Well, yes, of course."

"And having a responsibility can be a job."

Lady Harleigh pursed her lips. "You are mistaken. I'm surprised at your notion. Someone has not provided you a proper education," she said sharply.

Gwinnie looked at her askance.

"Responsibilities are performed by granting others the tasks associated with a responsibility in exchange for coin. This is how we keep the country healthy. We don't do work, we don't have jobs, we delegate."

"Oh, I see," Gwinnie said. She supposed that was one way of thinking about responsibility, but not one that readily leapt to her mind.

"What about Parliament?" Gwinnie suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you consider attending Parliament?" Gwinnie asked.

"As an honor, of course."

"Not a job."

"Heavens, no!"

Gwinnie considered that, then shrugged. "All right— We've been talking, and I suddenly realize I haven't been paying attention to where we are going," she said laughing. She pulled her arm from Lady Harleigh's and looked around. The hallway was darker than she liked, though elegant with Chinese decoration, not the newer Egyptian designs.

Lady Harleigh twittered. "Oh, just to one of Lady Oakley's retiring rooms. It's right here," she said, pointing to a door a few feet away.

Gwinnie frowned as she looked up at a dragon-shaped sconce. Lady Harleigh opened the door.

Gwinnie looked back at her. "I don't think?—"

Lady Harleigh shoved her through the door.

Lewis didn't see either Gwinnie or Lady Harleigh by the time he made it across the room to the ballroom entrance hall. Icy fingers crawled across the back of his neck and down his spine as he searched.

Something was wrong.

He hailed the footman standing at the top of the grand staircase. "Have you seen a red-haired woman in a white-and-gold gown come this way?" Lewis asked, his voice filled with urgency. "She may have been with an older woman in a mauve gown."

"No, sir, not down these stairs," the footman replied, his voice tinged with annoyance.

Lewis frowned as he looked around. His heart beat faster. "Where does that hallway lead," Lewis asked, pointing to a dimly lit hallway on his right.

"The old bedroom wing. Off limits to guests, as it has not been redecorated yet."

"How is it off limits? I don't see any rope or sign," Lewis question, raising an eyebrow.

"Lady Oakley said the dim light would discourage people from going that way."

Lewis nodded his understanding, but he kept looking in that direction. "Thank you," he said absently, nodding at the footman. Lewis put his hands behind his back, clasping his fingers together as he walked away. He did not return to the ballroom but lingered in the hall, watching guests come and go into the noise and gaiety of the ballroom, and watching the darkened hallway.

When the footman was engaged with other guests, he saw Lady Harleigh hurry out of the dark hallway. She paused to seemingly regain her composure. She lifted her chin in her imperious manner.

She was alone, and he'd seen her leave the ballroom with Gwinnie.

"Lady Harleigh," he said congenially, masking his concern. "Have you seen Lady Guinevere?"

She glared daggers at him, mouthing the word bastard before sweeping past him. Lewis couldn't deny the surge of anger that rose within him when Lady Harleigh insulted him. But anger wouldn't find Gwinnie. So much for the reconciliation Lady Malmsby claimed she desired.

His brow furrowed as he stared after Lady Harleigh. Where was Gwinnie? What had she done to Gwinnie? Shivers slid down his spine. He walked toward the dark hallway, ignoring the footman's calls after him.

Panic tore through Gwinnie as her foot found air. Her heel slipped and skidded on the edge of a steep step, throwing her balance off. This was not a room! Gwinnie's arms flailed as she fell. Panicking, she twisted sideways, trying to find something to grab. Her twist brought her up against the stair rail. She desperately grabbed the railing and hung on, though her momentum wanted her body to tumble down the stair. She wrenched her shoulder, hearing it pop as her body slid more. Her grip slowed her enough she got her feet pointing down the stairs.

Finally, she realized she wasn't moving any longer. She released the death grip on the handrail, finger by finger. Her shoulder screamed in pain as she moved her arm down to her side. Dislocated , she thought.

Her breath came in rapid gasps. She mentally checked the rest of her body. There was soreness on her hip and back, and the foot that had come down first felt like a sprain, but no pain felt as severe as the pain in her shoulder. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and sat there, resting her dangling arm across her lap. The staircase was black as pitch.

Gwinnie let her initial panic go. She inhaled deeply, and let it out, a slight smile rising above the pain. Lewis would come, as he had at Soothcoor Mansion. She catalogued her pains as she waited.

Lewis opened unlocked doors and knocked on locked ones, calling Gwinnie's name. A faint trace of lilies in the air— Gwinnie's scent— drew him down the hall.

"Sir! Sir!" said the footman, catching up to him. "I told you this hallway is off limits."

"Two women have been down this hall and only one came out," Lewis said curtly, brushing past the footman.

"Preposterous," declared the footman. He pulled Lewis's arm. "Come sir, I must insist!"

"I am Lewis Martin, a Bow Street agent" Lewis said firmly. "I am investigating this hallway. Inform Lady Oakley— better, find the Duke of Malmsby and inform him that Lewis Martin needs him here."

"This is ridiculous, there is nothing here?—"

Lewis shook his arm loose. "Go!" he yelled.

The footman jumped at Lewis's tone, then scurried back down the hall.

When Lewis came to a narrow, plain-paneled door, his gut twisted. Instinctively he knew this was the door. The door at Soothcoor Mansion flashed in his mind. Another door separating him from Gwinnie. He pressed down on the door handle, and put his shoulder to the door, but it was locked. He rapped loudly on the door.

"Gwinnie? Gwinnie," he shouted, his voice echoing down the hallway. "Are you in here?"

"Lewis! Yes, I'm here. It's the servants' stairs." Her muffled voice sounded all right. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you all right?"

"Well, at least I didn't hit my head," Gwinnie responded.

Lewis laid his forehead against the door, his eyes watering in relief. He chuckled and sniffed for a moment of respite amid chaos. Trust Gwinnie to offer sarcasm when everything was not all right, Lewis mused, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'll reframe my question: what hurts?" he asked, his voice filled with both relief and concern.

Behind him came the Duke of Malmsby and Lady Oakley with her footman trailing behind.

"I'm fairly sure my ankle is not broken," she said with a forced chuckle. "But I think I dislocated my shoulder, and my back and hip have been trying to claim attention, too."

Lady Oakley laid a gentle hand on Lewis's shoulder.

"Egad! What happened?" the duke bellowed, his voice booming.

" Hello, Father! Lady Harleigh pushed me down these stairs," Gwinnie said, her voice tinged with a disquieting mix of amusement and exasperation. "The steps are fairly steep. I think she was trying to kill me— Do you realize that's three times in one week someone has had an intention to kill me!" Gwinnie exclaimed, striving for jovial outrage.

Then her voice broke, as fragile as glass, and they could hear tears. "Can someone come get me, please?"

"I'm coming, my love," Lewis said. He turned to the footman. "Do you have a key for this door?"

The man shook his head.

"Lady Oakley?" he asked.

She shook her head, then looked at her footman. "Take him to the first floor. I believe that door to this stairway is unlocked."

"Right away, my lady," the footman said, turning before she'd finished talking. He led Lewis down two floors and through a maze of halls to the stairway. The door was unlocked, but Lewis could see there was no light in the narrow stairway.

"Candles, man!" Lewis demanded, his heart pounding in his chest.

The footman found a tinderbox and a branch of candles. He handed the lit candles to Lewis.

"Go back up to the duke," Lewis urged, his voice demanding. "Tell him I will likely need assistance to get her down if she is injured as extensively as she mentioned."

Lewis started up the stairs, the candles held high. "Gwinnie! Can you hear me?" Lewis yelled up the stairs.

"Barely."

"I'm on my way. Hold that in your heart," Lewis reassured, his voice filled with determination. "I am on my way, my love."

When he reached the next floor landing, the stairs went up at a different angle, not directly over the last stairs. Lewis paused for a moment, catching his breath before continuing up the stairs towards Gwinnie.

"I see your light!" He heard Gwinnie cry out.

He took another bend in the stairs, and then he saw her.