Chapter 3

Hal stared at the doorway, his head spinning with that whirlwind conversation. What a web of lies he’d just constructed, as glibly as any charlatan on the street corner. The flow of falsehoods that had seemed to come out of his mouth of their own accord amazed him. He’d been so delighted with the beautiful mademoiselle he would’ve said almost anything to help her. What the devil he was to do now, though, he had no idea. He could simply introduce her to Rother, whom he knew quite well, although only as the Marquess of Halford. Unfortunately, that bit of information he would rather keep to himself for now.

He’d not declared himself the marquess for fear she would run away from him. To have found a nobleman in shirtsleeves would’ve been enough to send any respectable woman scurrying away, scandalized. Celinda had been right about that. And the moment he’d seen Miss d’Aventure, he’d decided he must meet the lovely creature, have one conversation without the ton dictating his behavior. Have her meet the man, rather than the blasted title so many women sought.

He hadn’t imagined he’d want to continue the acquaintance, yet now he could not countenance the idea of not seeing her again. He’d been so disillusioned with the young ladies he’d met so far this Season. Most were exactly what one would expect an English maiden of good family to be like: skilled in dancing, singing, drawing, and playing the pianoforte, but not a jot of interesting conversation in their heads. Young ladies his father would love him to marry. Yet he wanted at least a little something more. The wit of a Celinda or the contrariness of a Miss Locke, although that lady had a bit too much spirit for him. Now this lady’s maid had come along and turned his head.

He liked Mademoiselle d’Aventure—God, even her name set his pulse to pounding—on a level much deeper than he’d have thought possible in the fifteen minutes they’d been together. Smart, funny, beautiful. Stubborn. That he liked most of all. That she could become his mistress had crossed his mind more than once. Their kiss and her lovely figure pressed close to him had incited a riot in every part of his body.

If only she weren’t a lady’s maid, he could make her his marchioness.

Now that was a sobering thought. Of course, men took all manner of women to wife, from prostitutes to princesses these days. The ton was full of such tales. It loved nothing more. And he’d wager his inheritance she could hold her own in any drawing room in London. His father, on the other hand, detested scandal. Hal’s scrapes in the past had been enough of a disgrace to elicit the threat of being cut off without a farthing. Not a pleasant prospect when his father had the constitution of a horse. The man might live another twenty years or more.

Was the game worth the candle? He’d only just met the woman. She might not be at all what she seemed. But when compared to the ladies from whom he was supposed to choose a wife, she towered above even the best of them. Perhaps he needed to make himself better acquainted with the little demoiselle . See if she’d captured more than just his fancy.

Which might be a tricky proposition. He couldn’t very well reveal himself as the Marquess of Halford now without making her terribly angry about his deception. She’d find out eventually, of course. No one who knew him would ever mistake him for his valet, the real Horace Carpenter. But if he was careful, he might be able to woo her and win her regard before she discovered his deception. By that time, quite likely, she’d be more than willing to forgive his subterfuge.

Especially if he’d been able to give her the one thing her heart desired: an introduction to the Duke of Rother. So how could he accomplish it? He swung around and strode to the railing, staring out at the dancing figures. Who could he get to help him?

Below, Celinda stood beside a young lady in blue. Ah, that must be Miss Locke. Their heads drew together in deep conversation, most likely about the newly come Lord Finley. Hal had yet to meet the man, but if level-headed Lady Celinda Grantham was taken with him, he’d better take his measure and quickly. Of course, her father would…

The flicker of a memory, a connection to the Granthams surfaced in his giddy mind. He needed to go to Celinda now, before she left or did something rash, like compromise herself with his lordship. Hal grabbed his jacket from behind a potted palm and slung it on. At the very least she’d have another partner out on the dance floor if he didn’t move quickly. The black superfine material settled uncomfortably over his shoulders—it always felt too confining, no matter what his tailor did to it. He adjusted it as best he could and rushed out the door and down the stairs.

His height proved a boon, as usual. He spied Lady Celinda and Miss Locke in conversation on the other side of the ballroom. He skirted the dance floor as swiftly as he dared without being rude to the guests who stopped him, wishing to chat or introduce him to their daughters. The very reason he hated these affairs.

He made each conversation as quick as he could, but by the time he finally reached Celinda, she was deeply engaged with a man he didn’t recognize—obviously the excellent Lord Finley. She would not be pleased with him for interrupting, but, still, he was not inclined to wait.

“Lady Celinda, Miss Locke. How do you do? So lovely to see you this evening.” He bowed to them then raised his eyebrows while staring pointedly at the well-dressed gentleman beside them.

“Good evening, Lord Halford.” Miss Locke dropped a curtsy.

“Good evening, my lord.” Celinda pursed her lips and curtsied as well. Her eyes shot daggers at him, but she smiled and nodded to the man on her right. “May I present Lord Finley, my lord? He is just returned to London from America. Lord Finley, my very distant cousin, Lord Halford.”

“My lord.” Hal bowed, taking the man’s measure at a glance. Tall, with a rugged build and sharply defined face, the man was surely a gentleman, although with an indefinable edginess to him. Hal scented danger, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what gave him that impression. He would make inquiries. Not that Celinda’s father wouldn’t do the same; Lord Ivor was no fool where his daughter was concerned. Still, Hal liked her enough that even had they not been related, he would’ve been loath to see her hurt.

“Lady Celinda, I believe you are promised to me for the next set.” He stared at her, willing her to understand his silent plea.

She glanced from Miss Locke to Lord Finley then smiled at him though she clutched her fan so tightly the ribs creaked. “Yes, I believe I am, my lord.” Celinda turned to the others. “Will you excuse us?”

He bowed to Lord Finley, who nodded and moved closer to Miss Locke. That lady’s eyes had widened, and her smile reached almost the width of her face, as though someone had given her a delightful present.

Hal led Celinda to the floor as a waltz started.

“You had better have an excellent reason for this, Hal.” Celinda squeezed his hand unmercifully. “I had almost secured another dance with Lord Finley when you snatched me away. Now he’ll likely ask Kate, and who knows where that will lead.” Her mouth was set in pleasant lines, though her tone was anything but.

“It is of the utmost importance to my happiness, in fact.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to propose again.” The pressure on his hand increased.

“No, but I do need your help.” His gaze swept the ballroom and the balcony above. No enchanting French damoiselle , thank goodness. He didn’t think Mademoiselle d’Aventure would recognize him if she saw him like this, but he didn’t want to take a chance. “Can you arrange a meeting with the Duke of Rother?” Hal started them around the room without waiting for Celinda to answer.

“Rother?”

“Don’t I remember he’s your godfather?”

Celinda’s brows had puckered. “Yes, although sending a silver cup for my christening was apparently the extent of his godfatherly duties.” Her frown deepened. “Are you telling me you’re not acquainted with him? I can’t believe you’ve not been introduced. But he’s here tonight.” She peered into the crowd. “I’d be happy to—”

“It’s not for me.” He kept scanning the crowd as well but not for the duke.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The introduction is not for me. I am well acquainted with the duke.” He glimpsed a brown skirt and spun Celinda around to shield him.

“What are you doing?” She wobbled, off balance.

“Nothing.” Hal grabbed her tighter to keep her from falling. Ah, thank goodness, it was Lady Carlisle in brown beside the chair there, not the little damoiselle .

“Let me go.” She hissed. “People are going to stare. And if you compromise me, I’ll make sure I’m a widow not long after I’m a wife.”

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I don’t want to marry you.” He maneuvered them around a group of dancers who seemed to be all but standing still. “Furthest thing from my mind.”

“Then slow down, for pity’s sake.” She stepped on his foot, and pain shot up his shin.

“Ouch. Behave, and I will also.” Easier said than done. Once he started a waltz, the lovely rhythm made him want to fly around the room. Still, he managed to lessen their speed to a tempo more in keeping with the rest of the dancers.

“So, who is seeking an introduction to the duke?” Celinda eyed him as they paused in a balance step.

“A lady.”

“What?” Celinda tried to halt, her mouth slightly agape, but he urged her on around the room.

“After you left the balcony, someone else appeared. Another young woman.”

“Indeed.” Her eyebrows arched, her tone a trifle cool. “How fortunate for you, Hal.”

“It truly was.” The thought of the beautiful French woman set his heart on fire.

“You’re smiling like an idiot.”

“I know. I can’t stop.” He picked up their pace again. His feet had wings tonight because of the damoiselle .

Abruptly, Celinda grasped his hand and pulled him off the dance floor. They’d come full circle, back to the far end of the room where he’d found her. Miss Locke and Lord Finley were nowhere to be seen. With a groan, Celinda made for the French doors that let onto the rear terraces, Hal in tow.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t protest much. It would be easier to convince her to help if he could talk to her face to face.

“Trying to get some sense out of you without making a spectacle of ourselves.” She drew him toward a more secluded corner.

A dangerous place. If anyone found them here, they would have no choice but to marry.

Hal held his breath, listening for others who might also have availed themselves of the garden’s sanctuary. Only the peaceful night sounds of crickets and the faint snorting of horses in the stables filled the air. “Celinda, we must be brief. If we are discovered here—”

“Oh, mark me, we will not be. So talk fast. You met a young woman on the balcony who wishes to meet my godfather?” She spoke low and slowly.

“Yes.”

“And you have developed a tendre for this girl in the half hour since I left you?” This question came sharp and crisp, with a knowing smirk in her voice.

“Why would you say that?” He took a step backward into the shadows. It might be too dark for her to see him clearly, but he wouldn’t chance it.

“The look on your face just now, when I said you were smiling like an idiot. I knew.” Her voice grew harsh with disapproval.

“And how long did it take you, pray tell, to form an attachment to Lord Finley?” Hal shot back. “You met him only this evening as well.”

“That is totally different.” Her defensive tone confirmed all his suspicions about her regard for Finley.

“Somehow, I doubt that. Come, Celinda,” he said, drawing close enough to her that she was more than just a faint outline and voice. “Please help me.”

“Who is this young lady? Do I know her?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You haven’t proposed to her as well, have you?”

He chuckled and shook his head. Knowing him as she did, she would think to ask that. “No, you do not know her, and no, I have only proposed to you this evening—so far.”

“Hal!”

“Quiet.” He peered around the yard, but nothing stirred. “For pity’s sake, Celinda. You will get us leg-shackled yet.”

“I’m sorry, but you can be rash.” In the faint light, she smoothed her gown and seemed to calm a bit.

“I was jesting. I met her for perhaps ten minutes, too short an acquaintance to form any meaningful attachment, even for me. Although…” He paused, haunted by a sudden whiff of hyacinth that brought with it the memory of Mademoiselle d’Aventure’s beauty, charm, and soft lips.

“Hal.” Celinda’s voice reached him, returning him to the darkened garden. “This young lady has bewitched you, it seems.”

“You may be correct, cuz.” She’d cast a spell on him, to be sure. All he could think of was seeing her once more. “So will you help me?”

“You haven’t told me yet who she is, why she wants to meet Lord Rother, or why you can’t simply introduce her.” Celinda tapped an impatient toe.

“Well…” Damn. He couldn’t put her off any longer. She had to know the truth. Whether that would make any difference in the end was up to Celinda and her sense of romance. “Her name is Gabriella d’Aventure—there are a few other names between that I forget—lately from France.”

“Miss d’Aventure? I certainly would’ve noted such an unusual name. My forte, you may remember.” Celinda rolled her eyes.

Hal did recall how much she disliked her curious name.

“Why have I not met Miss d’Aventure? Who is her chaperone?”

Inwardly, Hal groaned. He’d rather not have to deal with these questions at the moment, but if he must… “She is with Lady Chalgrove.”

“Lady Chalgrove?” The suspicious look on his cousin’s face told him he must stop trying to hedge the subject. “Lady Chalgrove has no daughters. Is she a niece?”

“She is her ladyship’s lady’s maid.”

Celinda blew out an exasperated breath that threatened to ruffle his cravat. “Come, Hal. Enough of games. Tell me.”

“That is the truth.” He crossed his heart. “Word of honor.”

“Hal!”

“Shhh.” He froze. Footsteps approached from the direction of the French doors. Hal pushed Celinda behind him, further into the shadow of the veranda’s overhanging roof. If he could hide her, they might think he was waiting for an assignation rather than in the middle of one. Suddenly, marriage to his cousin, so attractive a short time ago, had become unimaginable. He held his breath, and the footsteps retreated. His lungs burned, but he refused to breathe until he’d counted to thirty then gulped in air and stepped aside.

“I’m sorry.” She grasped his arm, her hand soft and warm. “Well, then, please tell me everything.”

Thank the good Lord. He launched into his tale, leaving out only a few bits, like that spellbinding kiss. Some things Celinda simply did not need to know.

“So I’m to rendezvous with her at Lady Atherton’s and tell her if all is arranged for her to meet the duke. You will be attending the musicale, won’t you?” He’d relaxed as his cousin had become more and more entranced by his tale.

“Of course. Mamma and Lady Atherton are bosom bows. But all you want me to do is introduce Miss d’Aventure to the duke?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why can’t you simply introduce her yourself?”

“Uh…I must have left out a bit… She thinks I’m Carpenter.”

“Your valet!”” Celinda’s mouth dropped.

“For God’s sake, keep your voice down.” Hal glanced around frantically. “Have you always been so noisy, and I simply haven’t noticed?” He ventured out to stick his head around the corner of the house. No one else stirred in the crisp air of the early May night. “Yes, I told her I was my valet so as not to startle her when she first came upon me. I was in shirtsleeves, if you remember. And his was the only name I could think of.”

“So you are your valet and she is a lady’s maid.” Even the dim light couldn’t disguise Celinda’s dismay. “How am I to introduce a lady’s maid to the duke?”

“Simply as a young lady of your acquaintance?” he asked hopefully. Celinda had never failed him before. Pray God she did not now.

“There is something going on here, Hal.” She shook her head. “Something you’re not telling me or something she’s not telling you.” Celinda rubbed her arms, and Hal shivered in the cool air. “Let us go back inside before I catch a chill and Mamma has an attack of the vapors.” Moving out from behind Hal, she headed for the French door. “Tell me again why she’s so set on meeting a duke? And Rother in particular?”

“Some girlish dream, she said. Her mother met a duke when she was a girl. I suppose she told the story to Gabriella so many times it made an impression on her. Now she wants to meet an English duke as well.” He peered into her face, pale in the half-moon light. “Do you still have girlish dreams, Celinda?”

“I dream of a handsome man marrying me before I’m an ape leader, but I’ve had no luck convincing Father to approve the men I find interesting. Now that I’ve found another one, you’ve dragged me off into your scheme and left him with Kate. She’ll either have cowed or conquered him by the time I find them again.” She sighed, a sadness in her eyes. “I’ll send word as soon as I’ve written to Lord Rother. When can we arrange for them to meet?”

“Bless you, Celinda.” He breathed deeply once more. “I will ask Miss d’Aventure what day she can manage.” He took Celinda’s arm and escorted her back to the ballroom.

“You do think that is her real reason for wanting to meet the duke, don’t you, Hal? A childhood dream?” A trickle of doubt colored her words as they passed over the threshold.

“What else could it be?” Hal only half-listened, checking the crowd for his lady’s maid and anticipating his next meeting with her. With Gabriella. Her name tasted like a delicate pastry in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Extortion, perhaps?”

Hal stopped, a smile frozen on his face.

Celinda dipped a curtsy and continued toward the side of the ballroom where Miss Locke stood alone, peering about.

With a low curse, Hal strode toward the main part of the house in search of a much-needed brandy.

****

By the time Gabriella reached the guest chamber assigned to her mistress, she knew she was too late.

La comtesse ’s raised voice sounded through the thick, oak-paneled door. “Where is Gabriella?”

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Where have you been, you stupid girl?” The countess’s screeching made Gabriella flinch. “I told you specifically to stay here so I could find you if I needed you.” She pointed to the skirt of her deep green gauze gown. The bottom row of ruffled flounces had come loose, drooping almost until it touched the floor. “You must fix this immediately. When you are finished, you are not to stir from this room until the ball is over. Do you understand?” She glared at Gabriella, who dropped her gaze to the floor.

“ Oui , madame .” She ran to the dressing room and grabbed her sewing chest. “If you will stand still, madame , I will fix it tout de suite .” Gabriella sat on the floor at her mistress’s feet. Bad luck that the repair must be done in the front of the gown. She must sew with the tiniest stitches so they would not show. This would take more time, during which la comtesse would undoubtedly voice her displeasure. She knotted the silk thread and began. “Has madame enjoyed herself so far this evening?”

“I would be there enjoying myself this minute had you been here when I arrived.” The countess stamped her foot, jerking the fabric out of Gabriella’s hands.

“Please, madame . You must remain still if you wish me to be quick.” She gathered the green gauze once more and started to stitch again. “So you have danced much? Only a woman of your grace and beauty could have secured so many partners in a room filled to bursting with ladies.”

“How do you know how full the ballroom is?” Lady Chalgrove pounced as quickly as a striking snake.

“I went down the corridor to the small balcony that overlooks the ballroom. I wanted to see the English lords and ladies.” Gabriella poked the needle through the layers of soft fabric, unconcerned. “I particularly wanted to see what the English ladies are wearing this season. You have bought that printed silk and asked me to make it up for your trip to Vauxhall Gardens next week. I wished to look at the newest fashions, so I may make certain madame is très jolie for her outing.”

“Well, I suppose that is a reasonable excuse.” Lady Chalgrove sniffed and looked over at her toilette table. “But I hope you saw something that will suit me, because you must remain here for the rest of the evening. I pray that wretched Mr. Calhoun does not come near me again. He is the one who stepped on my gown and pulled the flounce loose.” Her mistress moved toward the table, pulling the fabric out of Gabriella’s hands once more.

“ Madame !”

The countess shrugged and dabbed perfume behind her ears and down her décolletage .

Quel dommage there was not more there to work with.

Gabriella ran her hands across the carpet, searching for the needle. “If you wish to return to the ballroom in haste, madame , you must allow me to do my work.” She found the needle, threaded it, and began the repair again.

“Can you not hurry?” Lady Chalgrove picked up the hand mirror, turning it back and forth, preening while Gabriella finished mending the flounce. “I am to dance again with the Duke of Rother, and I will not keep him waiting.”

“Ouch.” Gabriella stuck the needle into her finger, drawing a bright drop of blood.

“Stupid girl. Do not smear blood on my gown.” The countess continued to gaze at herself in the mirror, smiling first one way then another.

“ Oui, madame .” Gabriella stuck her finger in her mouth then continued with the gown.

“His Grace is now searching for a bride, so say the latest on-dits .” She laughed into the mirror, looking like nothing so much as a monkey in a menagerie. “With a little luck, he may choose me, if I can only capture his attention. Are you finished?”

“ Oui, madame .”

The countess stormed out of the chamber without a backward glance.

Gabriella remained on the floor, trying to fit this newest information into her plan. She must accomplish her goal before Lady Chalgrove could snare the man. She shuddered to think what madame would do if she discovered her maid had a scheme of her own regarding the Duke of Rother.

She sent a swift prayer to St. Christopher, patron saint of pilgrims, to speed her on her way to a successful completion of her journey.