The House in Grosvenor Square Page 11

  He laughed out loud. “Apparently. I see you are responsible for that, at least.”

  She reached for her reticule, still on the chair behind her, and dug in it for a few seconds. First she pulled out an orange, which seemed to amaze him. He said nothing, just watched while she placed it on his desk. Then she brandished the two handkerchiefs, which she handed him. Searching further, she brought forth the cuff link.

  “Here, then! I wanted something of yours to carry with me, though I realize how utterly foolish I must appear to you—” She began to pace a little ways from him, peeved to have been found out in such a manner, and didn’t notice that Mr. Mornay was more gratified than mystified. When she turned to him, his eyes were full, and he wore that near smile as when he found her amusing.

  “What!” Her hands were on her hips.

  “You little mystifying minx!”

  Sheʼd only heard him use that that term once before, and didn’t know whether he was scolding her or not. “I didn’t nap them! I only borrowed them to have something of yours while we are apart, as I said.”

  He held out his hand with the items she had given him, and said, “Here. They’re yours.”

  She took them back shyly, for she did enjoy having the small tokens of his presence when they were apart.

  “As I’m yours,” he added, finishing the thought.

  His words melted her cautious expression, which became one of undisguised affection. With a speedy look towards the door to see that it was still safely closed, he took her for another kiss, and Ariana did not have it in her heart to deny him. Afterwards, she smiled and returned the articles to her reticule.

  It was a relief, Phillip thought, to know that nothing sinister was behind the so-called thefts. In fact, that Ariana needed to possess some of his things was strangely touching. But as he was thinking thus, she turned a troubled expression up to him.

  “But how do we account for your shirt? I assure you, I had no hand in that work.”

  “I’m thinking that one of the workmen perhaps wandered into my chamber.”

  “But why would anyone ruin a good shirt, when he might have taken it and sold it, or worn it himself? Particularly one of superior quality?”

  He nodded. “I know. I’ve had the same thought.”

  Ariana’s face grew cautious. “Do you think there is someone who does not want me here? My aunt said not all servants can countenance the coming of a new mistress. She distrusts your housekeeper.”

  He stroked the side of her face. “ I should think my servants have been quite sincere in their huzzah’s to me, and I believe they are eager to see how the presence of a woman will influence the household.” He paused and then added, “I’ll have a talk with Mrs. Hamilton and Freddy, if you like. If we have a grumbletonian in our midst, they’ll know it.”

  To her still serious expression, he added, “Do not fret; nothing will come between us. If I find that a servant has had a hand in this—” His look grew formidable. “I’ll see them brought to justice.”

  “Oh, my dear—they could be hanged! You know as well as I do—that isn’t justice!”

  “Thieving from one’s master is a serious offense. In addition to what you had in your reticule, a silver candlestick, a gold-handled letter opener, and a small portrait of George III have also been napped. I keep that portrait merely to antagonize Prinny and should hate to have it missing when he next calls.”

  “The prince calls upon you?”

  “Occasionally. He may not again. But I did enjoy having it on his account.”

  “Do you not approve of the king for his own self?” she asked, a little chidingly.

  “I have quarrels with some of his policies,” he answered. “But more of that another time. The point here is that, if you didn’t borrow these items, then someone else took them.”

  Her face looked troubled. “I didn’t. I feel responsible, however. It seems as though my presence here has worked mischief somehow. I don’t know what can account for it.” And then she grew upset. “I—I don’t understand how this could be! Are you certain these articles were not missing prior to my coming to the house?”

  “My servants appear to be certain. I’m sorry I mentioned it,” he said, holding out his arm. “Except now that you know about their disappearance you’ll be alert for anything unusual while you’re here.”

  “Unusual? Like what?”

  He met her eyes. “I cannot say. I’ve appointed servants to keep eyes on the workmen. If nothing else goes missing, we’ll have to conclude it was one of their number. One may have wandered beyond where they should have been, but that won’t happen again. And if I know my man of business,” he added, “he’ll charge the shopkeepers equally to make up for the losses.”

  As they returned to the front hall, where Freddy held out Ariana’s pelisse, he added, “Don’t fret—let us not talk more of it today. I’ll look into the matter. But now I must take my leave of you.” His look became stern. “You are not to walk home. I’ll order the carriage, if Frederick himself has to drive it.”

  “Thank you, my darling.” The words left her mouth so quickly and easily that she hadn’t realized what she was saying. He froze for the briefest second, wanting to take her right back up into his arms, but could not. She saw it in his eyes, and blushed.

  All he could do was murmur, “My angel.” And with a chaste kiss on her cheek, he strode hurriedly off. She was doing it again.

  She was driving him mad. He had to get away from her, now!

  Chapter Nine

  After Mr. Mornay had gone, Ariana wished she had asked him to take her home. She no longer wanted to be in the house without him. She decided that she may as well make a quick survey of the work while Frederick went round for the carriage. It was why she had come to begin with.

  To her distress, it all looked terribly topsy-turvy. Good thing she and Phillip hadn’t tried to look it over together. She wondered why he had said nothing of the upheaval in his house, or of his displeasure at the mess, or of the expense. He was being enormously wonderful. Ariana hoped they could both be proud of the results, but things looked worse each time she came. When it was complete, would it be worth the trouble?

  She noticed the footmen positioned against the walls, silent sentinels keeping watch over their flock, but found herself wondering which servant might be the one who did not welcome her coming to the household. Had Mrs. Bentley been right in thinking the housekeeper was hostile toward her? And if so, what could Ariana do about it? The last thing she wished to do was have to dismiss the woman. That could rile the other servants. She would need to pray on it.

  She hurried on through the house to see every area being altered, hoping something was taking sufficient shape to be pleasing in appearance. Afterward she planned on returning to her aunt’s house to finish a drawing she’d begun earlier in the season. It was a sketch of the courtyard behind the house, and once Ariana was married, she’d have little chance to complete it.

  She suddenly realized a footman was discreetly following her. She turned and addressed him.

  “Are you following me?”

  “Yes, mum.”

  “Why?”

  “Master’s orders, mum.”

  “He said nothing to me about it.” The man shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Shall I get Mr. Frederick, mum?”

  “Please do.” He left to get his superior. When Frederick came, he bowed slightly. “The carriage is at your disposal, ma’am.”

  She looked at the footman. “You are dismissed.” He seemed uncertain about what to do until Frederick nodded at him, and he turned and left. They were in the gallery, standing among tall sculptures on pedestals, and numerous portraits and paintings that lined the walls. “Freddy, did Mr. Mornay instruct that I should be followed?”

  Normally, Mr. Frederick would have gone to great lengths to appease his future mistress. He’d been fond of her all along. Unfortunately, on his way in from getting the carriage, Mrs. Hamilton had finally shared
her impression that Miss Forsythe was going to replace the staff—possibly the entire staff—with one of her own. Naturally, this was a nasty shock.

  He’d been butler at Grosvenor Square for over a decade. More, he’d been pleased as punch about the master’s betrothal. If Mrs. Hamilton was correct, however, it changed everything. Of course he would check her information with the master as soon as he could, but he couldn’t do that now. So he replied, “I believe, ma’am, it was Mr. Mornay’s intent to merely keep abreast of your interests here.”

  “My interests?”

  “Your…whereabouts, ma’am.” He had to look down as he spoke.

  Ariana’s face stiffened. He does not trust me! A wave of pain swept through her. He doesn’t trust me and he didn’t even tell me. He hasn’t been honest with me!

  Forcing down her distress, she kept her features purposely bland, and said, “Very good. Thank you.” Frederick bowed.

  “The carriage awaits your pleasure, ma’am.”

  As she moved away, he felt a pang of regret. His answer had been difficult for the lady. Yet was it not the truth, what he had said? Had not many items been napped beneath his own nose while Miss Forsythe was in the house? It was out of his hands.

  As Ariana returned to Hanover Square in Mr. Mornay’s carriage, her mind roiled with the thought that the man she loved did not trust her. The day had been so perfect until she’d discovered this! With uneasiness in her heart, Ariana realized that until they found out who was behind the ruined shirt and the lifted items, there could be no real peace at the house in Grosvenor Square—and perhaps not between her and Phillip. A candlestick, a small portrait, a letter opener and an ink-stained shirt. The shirt seemed the worst thing of all, in some ways. It was almost an attack on Mr. Mornay himself. His clothing—something worn on his person. The implication made her shiver.

  Further, each mysterious disappearance followed her known presence in the house. And the shirt had been ruined after she’d been seen in the dressing room! Someone was behind it. Someone who did not mind implicating her in the business. But who? And why? She would need to speak with the housekeeper, but it appalled her that any servant could bring their hand against their master’s possessions. She knew that sometimes servants would steal to lay up money for their retirement. That, to her mind, was in a sense excusable. It was at least understandable. But to deface property, with no end or purpose except to plague the owner—or her—that was malicious. That was frightening.

  Park Lane was blocked by an enormous crush of carriages around Merrilton House that evening. Inside, in the sumptuously rich long gallery and reception area, the house buzzed with low conversations. The guests were in full sparkle this evening—the ladies in their evening gowns, white gloves, and best jewellery, holding pretty fans, little reticules, or lorgnettes. Peacock plumes adorned headdresses. Scarves and shawls were draped elegantly over shoulders and arms, ranging from the willowy limbs of young ladies to the heavily fleshed, gesturing arms of the dowagers.

  The men wore breeches and shoes, waistcoats and jackets, top hats and buff gloves. Uniforms were seen here and there, from the Duke of York, in full regimental dress, to admirals and colonels in naval colours. The Duke of Wellington was in Spain fighting the French, or he would have been present. And a number of specially chosen Whigs were there for the purpose of being brought round to the Tories’ side on an upcoming vote. Bonaparte had won two victories in May, and, since the outcome of the Spanish campaign was still undecided, it was a good time to play on the vulnerability of the lords.

  Frances, Lady Merrilton, a shrewd political hostess, shooed away the footman offering a fluted glass of champagne from a silver tray, saying, “See to the guests, John.” Other footmen had trays of similar libations, or stood at the outskirts of the room, their faces aloof and stiff as statues. Lady Merrilton, looking about at the gathering of English luminaries, was momentarily satisfied. With the Regent and the princess promising to attend, she had done a commendable job of gathering the guests she wanted for the event, with more arriving each minute.

  Mornay and his fetchingly pretty future bride had not yet appeared, and Mrs. Tiernan was being conveyed in one of the marquess’s carriages. Lady Merrilton had long suspected that Mr. Mornay had more interest in political debates than he gave reason to believe. He had attended social engagements at the houses of Tory hostesses far more often than those of the mere “marriage-mart” variety. She hoped to corner him this night and pinpoint his interests. He was one who evaded being cornered, and Miss Forsythe might not like her flitting about her betrothed, but Lady Merrilton was determined to have her answer.

  What’s more, the Regent had asked for it.

  Ariana and Mr. Mornay were stuck in their carriage on Park Lane while awaiting an opening to Merrilton House. A surprisingly large throng crowded the pavement, even overflowing into the street, and was held back from the entrance to the house only by the help of a corded off section, guarded by numerous footmen and a few law officers. Lord Merrilton was well aware that if word hit the street that the Regent, or even more significantly, Princess Charlotte, was to make an appearance, crowds would flock from all over to catch a glimpse of royalty. The slew of footmen and other men on duty meant the house was prepared.

  Sitting across from her beloved, Ariana locked her eyes on Mr. Mornay’s inquisitive ones.

  “Will you not tell me what ails you?” he asked, beginning to sound a little irked. Since he had called for her in his carriage a short time ago, Ariana had been keeping a petulant silence that was painfully obvious. He was sitting across from her, which had surprised Ariana—but it was a relief, too, since she was still cross on account of his not trusting her.

  He sighed. “I recommend you tell me the trouble now, before we must face the evening.”

  She wasn’t ready to do that, but asked, “You normally sit beside me. Why are you seated over there?”

  “ʾTis only proper,” he said, mildly.

  “You are suddenly much concerned with propriety!”

  At this he nearly shot out of his seat to sit beside her, but crowds were in the streets and even attempting to peer in the windows. He remained where he was. The sound of the crowd, excited and jolly, circled their vehicle. The footmen had by now jumped off the board and were doing their best to keep people back, but it was a challenge.

  “If you do not tell me the matter, I can do nothing for it.”

  She replied, “There, at least, you are perfectly wrong; you can do something, only you have done the wrong something! Pray, must we speak of it, now?” He leaned forward.

  “Speak of what? What is it I have done? Of which you do not wish to speak?”

  The coach suddenly made some headway, advancing toward the mansion by the length of two carriages. The footmen hurried alongside. He continued. “Do you really imagine that I will allow you to avoid the matter, when it evidently distresses you?”

  No answer.

  “Do you intend to be my wife, yet without trust between us?”

  “Ah!” she cried, leaning forward and surprising him greatly. Her eyes sparked with flashes of blue and green. He felt a small relief that something he’d said had reached her.

  “Now there is a pertinent topic! Trust!” She stared at him, wide-eyed.

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “You speak to me of trust? Is that not the pot calling the kettle black? When you have had me followed about your house like a…a common street cull!”

  It was difficult to take her seriously when she looked so adorable, but at her words, Mornay closed his eyes for a second and sighed. “You know full well I don’t consider you a thief, common or otherwise.”

  The hurt she felt was all over her face. “You ordered a footman to follow me. Is that trust?”

  “I ordered that for your sake before we even spoke on the matter. I know you had nothing to do with the stolen things. I merely hoped to afford you a witness, so no one else can think you guilty!”

 
; “No one else?” her face was tragical. “No one else! You see what I mean!” She crossed her arms and stared at the door.

  “You are determined to misunderstand me.”

  “How is that?”

  “What I meant was none other of the servants would think you guilty. Fotch and Frederick, both of whom had seen you in the dressing room, were afraid the ink must have been your doing. I suppose I may have given the impression that I distrusted you, but in fact, it was to show the staff that you are up to no mischief. If something else had gone missing, or been marred, during your visit to the house, I didn’t want a shadow of doubt regarding your innocence. Gossip among servants has a way of magnifying things—I was merely trying to keep peace.”

  The carriage reached the mansion and a footman lowered the steps. Mr. Mornay exited first to hand her down. As he did, Ariana had the feeling of living a fairy tale again, as when he had escorted her to Carlton House. Here she was, like a princess, taking the arm of the handsome prince before they together entered the aristocratic abode. One glance at the eager bystanders, wide-eyed and curious, confirmed her privileged position in a high life she was already beginning to take for granted.

  But she had other things on her mind just now. She was relieved that Phillip hadn’t mistrusted her, but had he really believed when ordering that footman to watch her, that it was only for her sake? Was this misunderstanding the start of what would become a pattern of differences, of tiffs in their relationship? Looking at him now, as he led her upon his arm, she wanted nothing more than to fall against him, to snuggle into him, a warm pillar of strength. Why was she so quick to find fault with him? When he glanced her way, she gave him an apologetic smile.

  After the couple was announced, they entered the high ceilinged gallery and were soon chatting with acquaintances. But Ariana’s heart was not at rest. She was realizing that anything involving Phillip tore right at the deepest part of her. If they weren’t happy with each other, she could not be happy at all. If he was upset, she would be also. If he distrusted her, she could not be content.