The Scandalous Lord Lanchester Page 7

  He sounded so indignant that Mariah might have laughed had the situation not been so serious. One of the count’s servants had brought a bowl of water, another had bandages and various salves. She saw that Andrew was recovering a little as his head was bound and his hand examined. The wound looked red and there was a deep gash where the ball had ploughed across the skin; it was decided that a tight bandage should be applied while a physician was sent for.

  ‘I imagine the culprits are long gone,’ Andrew said in reply to the count’s demand. ‘But if you are sure they were bandits, it is probably your duty to report it for the sake of other travellers.’

  Mariah’s attention was caught. Something in Andrew’s manner told her that he did not believe the attack on them was the work of bandits. Her gaze narrowed. Andrew was very worried about something. She had guessed there was some mystery, but Andrew had refused to tell her anything. Now she thought she understood why. He was involved in something dangerous and was trying to protect her.

  She longed to tell him of the count’s outrageous proposal the previous evening and of the allegations he had made against Andrew himself, but now was clearly not the time. He had survived a murderous attack by his own bravery in driving off the bandits and was hurt, though it seemed not as badly as she had first thought. He was sitting up now, apparently feeling better.

  ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ she asked, but Andrew merely shook his head while the count smiled and assured her that everything was under control.

  ‘My servants will care for our guests, Mariah,’ he murmured and gave her a look that she could only call propriety. ‘You must not bother your pretty head over this. Ladies must be upset by things of this nature and I would not have you distressed in my home.’

  Andrew looked at her sharply for a moment, but his mind was clearly exercised by what had happened on the road and his injuries.

  Leaving them to settle the unpleasant business between them, she went in search of Sylvia, whom she knew to be walking in the gardens. Men were incredibly stubborn about certain things. She was not likely to scream or faint at the sight of a little blood, and, had she been in her own home, would have tended Andrew. As for the bandits, it was not unknown for a coach to be held up by highwaymen at home and she knew that some of her friends had suffered similar experiences when travelling abroad. Why the count should imagine it might upset her she did not know.

  Going in search of her friend, she found her in the rose garden, as she’d expected. Sylvia’s passion for roses was well known and she had been given permission to cut some for the rooms of the female guests—a task she relished.

  ‘Look at this beautiful damask rose,’ she said as Mariah walked up to her. ‘It has such a glorious scent, but there are only two bushes in flower so I must not cut too many blooms. You shall have them for your room, dearest. Count Paolo insisted that I cut roses for you, Mariah.’

  ‘He is very attentive,’ Mariah said, wrinkling her brow as she sniffed the rose. ‘Gorgeous. Tell me, what do you really know of him, Sylvia?’

  ‘Apart from a brief meeting at his father’s funeral I know very little about him, my dear. As I said, it was the count’s father whom we considered a dear friend. He was such a lovely man, though I do believe there might have been a rift with his son. However, we found Count Paolo to be nothing but charming upon meeting him. He has certainly proved to be as generous as his late father and has shown himself to be as gracious a host.’

  ‘Can you recall on your first meeting, did he ask about me?’

  ‘I am not sure.’ Sylvia frowned in thought. ‘We may have spoken of you in passing, but not specially. No, I am certain he did not ask a direct question. I did not think you knew him.’

  ‘I had never met him until we came here, to my knowledge, though he says he has seen me before with Winston in Paris.’

  ‘He remembered you?’ Sylvia was surprised. ‘Well, you are beautiful, of course—but you must have impressed him.’

  ‘Yes, it would seem so. He knows about the abduction and other things. He spoke of mutual friends, but if not you…’ Mariah shook her head. ‘It does not matter.’

  Except that it did matter. If the count’s information had come through an agent, it seemed more sinister. Why should he have gone to so much trouble to find out about her?

  She felt uneasy about the whole business and wished that she might have confided her worries to someone. It would not do to worry Sylvia. Her husband was in business with the count and Mariah could not expect Lord Hubert to listen to her concerns. The only person she could talk to was Andrew, but for the moment he had too much on his mind. Sylvia’s voice recalled her thoughts to the present.

  ‘There, I believe I have enough roses for today. Shall we go and place them in vases? Tompkins will show us where to find what we need.’

  Mariah agreed and, linking arms, they carried a basket each into the villa.

  Chapter Five

  Mariah spent the morning with friends and meeting more guests who had arrived for the masked ball. After luncheon she strolled in the gardens and courtyards until refreshments were served and then went upstairs to change. All the costumes for the ball were provided and each lady or gentleman found theirs waiting for them in their rooms.

  Mariah discovered that her gown belonged to the sixteenth century and was in the extravagant French fashion of that day. The heavy silk skirts and panniers were wide and cumbersome after the simple but elegant gowns of the present time. Mariah thought the gauze band that framed her neck was rather delicate and pretty, but the costume was not particularly comfortable to wear. However, the cream-and-gold embroidery on a background of black was rather daring and, glancing at herself in a long cheval mirror, Mariah thought it gave her an oddly exotic look.

  She might have been a queen of the French court—or perhaps a courtesan. She believed one of the king’s mistresses had been famed for wearing black, though for the moment she couldn’t quite recall which one.

  Her mask was also fashioned of black, shaped like a pair of butterfly’s wings and encrusted with gold and semi-precious stones. It added a touch of mystery to the evening and, seeing how different she looked herself, Mariah wondered whether she would be able to tell who was wearing what.

  Sylvia knocked at her door and then entered. Her gown was simpler, more in the style of a medieval lady, and suited her very well. She gasped when she saw Mariah’s costume and then clapped her hands.

  ‘Oh, how clever of the count to see it,’ she cried. ‘You look wonderful, dearest. So beautiful and yet mysterious…perhaps even a little dangerous.’

  ‘The black-widow spider?’ Mariah frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror. She could not deny that her toilette was impressive, yet she wasn’t sure it was the image she would wish to portray. Was that really her? She could quite easily have been Diane de Poitiers at the heart of court intrigues, wielding her power as the king’s mistress.

  * * *

  It was no surprise to her, when they went down to the ballroom and found that the guests were gathering, to discover that the count was wearing a costume that matched and complemented hers. He was, of course, meant to be King Henri II and she his mistress. Clearly, the count was putting his mark on her, letting his friends know that she was his property. Had there been an alternative, Mariah would have changed immediately for she did not like the implication. He was laying claim to her, spinning his web a little tighter about her.

  The bite of the black-widow spider was deadly to its mate.

  The thought brought a gurgle of laughter to her lips. If Count Paolo imagined he could manoeuvre her into giving him his way, he was greatly mistaken. However, she did find the game amusing and the hint of danger involved was exciting.

  ‘And who are you supposed to be—or can I guess?’

  Andrew’s voice made her spin round. She placed a hand to her mouth as the giggle almost escaped her.

  ‘Well may you laugh, my lady,’ Andrew said and the
hard set of his mouth did not look amused. ‘I have never felt so damned stupid in my life.’

  ‘Forgive me. Are you feeling better?’

  ‘Much, though I should do better to lie on my bed. I decided to make an appearance, though I shall not stay long.’ He was frowning, obviously annoyed. Mariah’s laughter was stilled.

  ‘I did not mean to offend you—but that costume is not quite what I would choose for you, Andrew.’

  He was dressed as a court jester in a particoloured costume of blue and silver, his long, strong legs encased in tight hose and the short jerkin barely covering his hips, revealing rather too much of his intimate proportions. On his head was a cap with a point that ended in a tassel and his mask reflected the colours of his costume.

  ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of, Andrew,’ Mariah assured him in a wickedly husky voice. ‘Just be careful not to become too enamoured of any lady this evening.’

  Andrew tugged unhappily at his jerkin, but it would not quite cover the source of his discomfort. She noticed he was wearing his riding boots, which did not seem a part of the costume, and enquired innocently whether no shoes had been provided.

  ‘If you or Count Paolo imagines I am wearing those damned things, you can think again. The points were at least nine inches long.’

  ‘Shame on you, my lord,’ Mariah teased. ‘I assure you I had no hand in planning the costumes.’

  ‘No?’ He sounded annoyed or disbelieving. ‘You are so obviously matched with the count that I thought you must have known.’

  ‘No, I had no idea what he planned,’ she replied. ‘I do not particularly care for the implication or the costume.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I should like to speak to you privately when you have a moment. I would have sought you out sooner, but I knew you must be feeling ill since you kept to your room all day.’

  ‘My head ached for most of the day. It is better now, but I do not think I shall dance much this evening.’

  ‘You suffered a bang to the head when your curricle overturned. It is a wonder that you were not killed. How is your hand now?’

  ‘The surgeon stitched it for me. I have known worse injuries when I was with the army in Spain, but it would be awkward for dancing. If the wound should open, it might start to bleed again and ruin a lady’s gown.’

  Mariah nodded. ‘Do you know why you were attacked?’

  ‘For money, I imagine. Is that not why these bandits prey on unwary travellers?’

  ‘Yes, I am sure that is so—if it was bandits.’

  ‘Who else could it be? The count is looking our way, Mariah. He, of course, knows exactly what each guest is wearing. I think we should greet him, do you not agree?’

  Count Paolo was the only person present not wearing a mask that evening. His costume was as splendid as Mariah’s, exactly what a French king of the period might have worn at the balls and masquerades that were so popular at court. As host he had left off his mask so that his guests would know him and he could greet them all properly.

  Everyone else had to play a guessing game. While it was easy enough to spot a familiar friend, it was more difficult to know who the other guests were.

  ‘I see we are matched,’ Mariah said as she greeted her host. ‘I believe I am meant to be Diane de Poitiers and you are King Henri, I assume?’

  ‘I thought it apt,’ the count said, lowering his voice to a seductive purr. ‘This is how it would be, Mariah. As my wife, you would stand with me to greet our guests and they would all pay homage to your beauty. The costume suits you very well.’

  ‘It is a charming costume, if a little cumbersome,’ Mariah replied. ‘However, I think I might prefer to be Catherine di Medici if I were to choose that route.’

  ‘Surely not? Diane was the love of Henri’s life. He adored her.’

  ‘But Catherine was his queen,’ Mariah replied. ‘I believe she was more dangerous than Henri ever understood—so perhaps you should beware, your Majesty.’

  The count laughed, seeming amused by her banter. ‘You will at least open the dancing with me this evening?’

  ‘How could I refuse a royal command?’

  Mariah passed on to mingle with the other guests. It was amusing to guess at other people’s identity and she was successful in discovering Lady Jenkins and her nephew, Lieutenant Grainger.

  ‘I have not thanked you for helping Lord Lanchester, sir,’ she told him when he confessed that he had not been sure of her identity. ‘I am sure he owes his life to your prompt arrival. Your aunt told me that ruffians had set upon you while out walking back at the lakes. It seems that travellers must learn to be more wary.’

  ‘I can only agree,’ Peter Grainger replied. ‘I must speak with Lord Lanchester later. I have something to tell him that he may find of interest.’

  ‘Something about the attacks?’

  He hesitated, then inclined his head. ‘Yes, I have thought of something that may have a bearing, but I should not worry you with these things, Lady Fanshawe.’ He hesitated, then, ‘Have you become…attached to the count?’

  ‘Goodness, no,’ Mariah denied instantly. ‘The costumes are the count’s idea, certainly not mine. I shall not deny there is some interest on his part, but nothing on mine. Indeed, I hardly know Count Paolo.’

  ‘I am relieved to hear it. I should not have spoken if you had a partiality—but I would not advise…The count is not always what he seems. You would do well to be cautious in your dealings with him.’

  ‘Do you know anything that I ought to know?’

  ‘I have heard a rumour concerning his wife’s accident…No, I should not. This is the wrong place to speak of such things. I am a guest here. Will you dance with me later, Lady Fanshawe?’

  ‘I should be delighted. Count Paolo wishes me to open the ball with him, but I have an empty card otherwise.’

  She offered him the card and he wrote his name in two spaces: the dance following the opening sequence and then another just before the supper interval.

  Mariah thanked him and turned as Sylvia came up to her with another lady and gentleman and the conversation was changed. Lieutenant Grainger walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Mariah was suddenly surrounded by gentlemen asking for dances and her card soon became almost filled, though she saved one or two for Andrew if he should ask her. As yet he had not done so. Looking for him, she caught sight of him disappearing into the salon reserved for card play and smiled. No doubt he felt too uncomfortable in that ridiculous costume to dance—or perhaps his head had begun to ache again.

  The opening series of dances were very stately and belonged to the time when ladies wore the kind of costume Mariah had been obliged to wear that evening. She opened the set with the count while everyone watched politely and clapped, gradually taking their places on the floor.

  After the set of dances finished, the count bowed to her, wished her a pleasant evening and went off to attend to other guests. Mariah sighed with relief as Lieutenant Grainger claimed her. The dance was a waltz and she smiled up at him as he held her very correctly. His costume as a royal hussar was very apt for him and he looked perfectly at home as they circled through the room.

  ‘You dance very well, sir,’ she said. ‘Is it your intention to seek a social life when you return to England—or will you remain in the army for a time?’

  ‘I am thinking of resigning my commission. It was to be my chosen career, but my aunt has told me that my uncle would like help running his estate. Since I am his heir, I shall naturally oblige him.’

  ‘Ah…’ Mariah nodded. ‘I believe you are a favourite with Lady Jenkins?’

  ‘She has no heir and her younger sister died some months ago. Since then she has clung to me more than before. However, my position as estate manager would not preclude my marrying, for there is a fine house on the estate where I intend to live for the time being.’

  ‘I am sorry to learn of Lady Jenkins’s loss,’ Mariah replied. ‘I am sure you will find the life much to your taste.’

&
nbsp; ‘Since the war with Bonaparte ended, life in the army becomes less interesting and is not particularly to my taste. Besides, there are other reasons why…’ He shook his head. ‘This is not the place, Lady Fanshawe, though I should like to speak to you privately another day. What I know has weighed on my mind and I must tell you—and Lord Lanchester.’

  ‘You intrigue me, sir.’ Mariah tipped her head to one side. ‘Does this secret concern the count? Or perhaps Lord Lanchester himself?’

  ‘It may concern both.’ A startled expression came to his eyes. ‘What do you know?’

  ‘I do not know anything, but I know there is some mystery—and I wonder if it may be the reason why both you and Lord Lanchester were attacked.’

  ‘Be careful, Lady Fanshawe.’ He looked uneasy. ‘Unguarded speech here could be dangerous. Forgive me, I should not have spoken this evening. Perhaps we may meet privately tomorrow?’

  Mariah would have pressed him further, but their dance was ending. As he led her from the floor, he whispered close to her ear. ‘If you can, meet me outside the Duomo at noon.’

  Mariah inclined her head. She was intrigued—she had known there was some mystery. Andrew was stubbornly refusing to tell her what was behind all this unpleasantness, but she believed Lieutenant Grainger was both prepared and eager to unburden himself of his secret.

  She had no time to dwell on his mysterious hints, because she was claimed by one partner after another as the evening continued. Music and laughter was the order of the night and Mariah gave herself up to enjoyment of the evening. She looked for Lieutenant Grainger once or twice, but was unable to see him. Perhaps he had gravitated into the card room, as some of the other gentlemen were wont to do.

  It was at supper that she had a chance to speak with Andrew again.

  ‘Have you spoken to Lieutenant Grainger?’

  He frowned as he met her enquiring gaze. ‘No, did he have the intention of it? I saw him once when he danced with you earlier, but not since then.’