Silk and Scandal Page 5

  Removing his coat and cravat, he tossed both haphazardly over the back of the sofa and poured a dram of brandy from the heavy crystal decanter on his desk. Tossing it off with quick precision, he poured another and took it to one of the two large wing-backed chairs in front of the fireplace.

  Pensively he stared into the red-orange glow, listened to the sizzle and pop of wood, and sipped. Sprawled thus, lost in planning his courtship, he started briefly at the sound of the door to the terrace closing softly.

  He smiled. “Oh, it’s you, my dear.” He lifted his crystal snifter in cordial invitation. “Care to join me?”

  An Li moved gingerly, quietly, into the room, and once more Nicholas was moved by her fragile delicacy. She shook her head, sending her long, luxurious hair into a sinuous dance. It was inky black, like his own, and fell in a river of light to well past her hips. Glorious stuff, that hair. Almost as glorious as her gentle heart.

  Wearing a vibrant robe of gold and scarlet silk, she moved silently on bare feet to sink onto the floor just inches from his legs. An Li’s eyes, wide and black, with the prominent slant of the Orient, gazed calmly up at him as she draped an arm over his thigh and smiled sleepily. The gesture of familiarity was normal between them, as they were the best of companions.

  “How was your evening, my lord?”

  He laughed and held her small, pointed chin with his fingers. “My lord? Have I not told you that I cannot bear formality between us?”

  She simply gazed at him before nodding. Then she asked her question again.

  “Intriguing, I suppose,” he finally answered. Stroking her hair, Nicholas gazed into the fire. “Successful as well.”

  “You find a lady to marriage with you?”

  “Without a doubt. Eliza Grayson is a lovely young woman of good family. She has dark red hair and blue eyes. She is quite beautiful.”

  An Li smiled and wrinkled her nose. “Wish I to have red hair.”

  “Stop. You’re as beautiful as any woman I’ve ever seen and you possess the sweetest heart.”

  “No, I am whore. No more than that. Not never.”

  Sometimes An Li broke his heart.

  He reached down and stroked her silky hair. “Shh, darling, none of that,” he said, wishing he had the words to ease her.

  Nicholas had met her in Hong Kong where An Li was the slave of a wealthy merchant named Wang Xi Chang. As a baby, she’d been sold by her family to the Chinese despot who turned her into an object of sexual pleasure when no more than ten years old. By age seventeen, she’d seen the worst of humanity.

  Business brought him to Chang’s palace. The trading of jade artifacts and silks had made the obese and obscene man quite wealthy. Nicholas disliked him on sight. Later, he’d been escorted to his room and had almost drifted off to sleep when An Li entered. Barely a woman, she’d been sent to service him.

  Old scars of abuse marred her lovely back and her liquid onyx eyes were the saddest he’d ever seen. Almost childlike in manner, An Li touched something deep within him and his chivalrous nature rose strong and determined. That night he’d tucked her, untouched, into his bed and had sought out a comfortable chair in which to sleep.

  The next morning, he left Chang’s palace with the promise of silks, jades, and one small slave girl.

  She was a slave no longer.

  An Li was fragile and had endured so much. The degradation she’d suffered was such that Nicholas treated her as a pampered, beloved sister. Despite her past, she retained her sweet nature though on occasion she struggled with a lack of self-worth. She believed herself unclean, though Nicholas strove constantly to disavow that notion.

  “Talk something else please?” she said at last. “Tell me of beautiful party, pretty dresses.”

  Nicholas smiled and told her the fairytale of ballrooms and chandeliers. He told her of the ladies he’d seen and how they’d danced with suitors, of the lush gardens and beautiful gowns.

  “These people sound so fine.” An Li sighed. “Like fancy story. I should like... but no. Not good for An Li to be among English. They do not like my eyes or my skin.”

  “For a certainty, that is their loss. Many people in many countries exhibit prejudice. England is perhaps worst of them all.”

  She smiled. “This true. An Li is good friend. This their lose.”

  “Loss.”

  “Aye. Their loss.”

  Nicholas’s smile faded as he looked at her. “Are you positive you wouldn’t like to visit one of my country estates? I know how you love the outdoors. You are so isolated in London.”

  “You would be too lonely and so would I. I have been too much think. You must marry. This I understand, but what wife think of An Li? Will she send me back to China?”

  Despite knowing with certainty that Lady Eliza was loyal to her bones, he knew very little about her other than that she was lovely. It shook him to his toes to imagine her a heartless, judgmental woman. Recalling her vulnerability in the garden, however, heartened him. The woman had feelings. But how deep did they run?

  “I would never marry a woman who could not accept our friendship,” he said quietly. “Rest easy.” Now that he’d set his sights upon Lady Eliza, Nicholas realized there was much yet to learn but tomorrow was soon enough to begin inquiries.

  Before long, Nicholas replaced his empty glass upon a nearby table and glanced down to see that An Li had fallen asleep. He smiled. From the moment he’d met her they’d been friends and he’d cared for her as he would any sweet child. Never once had he behaved inappropriately with her, feeling only the need to protect. Keeping her safe and away from those who would hurt her was a priority for him. Careful not to awaken An Li, he touched her hair. “What am I to do with you?” he whispered into the darkness. Tomorrow would be soon enough to consider sending her to one of his country estates and tomorrow would be soon enough to put together a plan toward getting further acquainted with a certain infuriating, impulsive lady.

  * * * * * * *

  When Eliza entered her parents’ sitting room, Millicent Grayson lay prostrate across a silvery-green brocaded chaise, clutching a cool cloth to her eyes. “Megrims again, Mother? Shall I fetch you something? A fresh compress, perhaps? A brandy?”

  Millicent smiled and gave a trilling little laugh. “Goodness me, love, the megrims seldom bring me low these days, but when they do I am quite prepared to deal with them.

  “They are not so bad as they once were.” She frowned a bit, then flashed a quick, naughty grin. “A brandy might not be amiss. Medicinal purposes, you ken.”

  Eliza chuckled at her mother’s bawdy behavior and poured a dram from a decanter that rested on a small table near the fireplace. She knew very well her mother was prone to tipple on occasion. That and a penchant for gambling with friends were her only vices.

  During the years since Lottie’s death, Millicent had become quite lonely due to the solitary behavior of her husband, who mourned in silence behind the locked doors of his study. Lack of interest in his family had, perhaps, caused his wife to find what pleasures she could elsewhere, and Eliza found she could not berate her mother.

  Smiling, Eliza delivered the drink and settled herself at the foot of the chaise where Millicent reclined. Though deeply disturbed by the evening’s events, Eliza struggled to keep her expression clear. She must tell her mother about Edward and the scene he’d caused. But the Duke? Well, he would remain her secret for now. She simply could not have her marriage-minded mama planning a wedding. Eliza fought down a shudder.

  Millicent took her hand and smiled. “So tell me, my darling, how was the affair? Splendid, I expect.”

  “Perfectly. Though I wish you had been able to attend with me, Mother. You should get out more.”

  “Balderdash! Balls and routes are for the young, and you, my dear, should be seen, great beauty that you are. I suppose you danced every dance with the handsomest young men of the Ton?”

  The Duke’s face floated through her memory. In truth, she’d danc
ed with only one sinfully handsome man, but her mother needn’t know that. She shook her head. “Not necessarily, Mother. You know, of course, how I feel about marriage. Despite your meddling, I will not submit.”

  “Stubborn chit, but well, I still adore you.” Millicent sighed theatrically and Eliza could not help the surge of love that shook her. She dreaded the telling of the horrific confrontation with Stanhope, but knew it necessary. Her smile faded as she took a fortifying breath.

  “Edward came to the ball, Mother.”

  Millicent gasped and clutched at her daughter’s hand, all color draining from her face. “Never say it!”

  “I must. Please try not to let it upset you, but it is true. He attacked me verbally in the nastiest manner and was carted from the place. Nevertheless, the damage was done. Gossip will be rife tomorrow, so I felt I must warn you. Papa, too.”

  “Will we ever be rid of that odious man? My poor Charlotte. Could I but take your father’s pistol and shoot him in the heart. Alas, he has no heart and he has broken mine. Yours and your father’s as well.”

  “I know, Mama.” Eliza wiped the tears from her mother’s plump cheeks. “Perhaps one day, someone will do us the great honor of ridding the world of Edward. Sadly, we must wait for retribution.”

  Millicent rose and set aside her brandy and compress. Drawing a deep sigh, she pulled herself up to her full stature, which was petite at best. “I must visit with your papa, Eliza. He should be informed of this at once.” Moving to the closed door leading to the bedchamber, she turned, her hand at the doorknob, and smiled sadly. “I am pleased that you went out, my dear, but utterly saddened that Edward managed to ruin the evening for you.”

  “It does not matter, Mama. There will be other parties.”

  Watching her mother leave, she doused the lights and went to seek her own bed. Once inside, she leaned against the door and sighed, noting her night rail spread upon the bed and the covers drawn down. Pandora stood watching intently.

  “Did ye tell er, m’lady?”

  Seating herself at an antique dressing table, Eliza began to pull the pins from her hair. “Reading dreadful gossip in The Times does not go well with one’s breakfast, I fear. I had to tell her. There was no choice.”

  “Well, at least the gossip shall not be all bad,” Pandora said with a wink. “Word should also be about regarding your dance with the famous Duke Weston. It will be noted, of course, that he danced with no one else.”

  Eliza stuck her nose in the air as her maid drew a large brush through her hair. “I shall never let you come with me again. Your eyes are far too keen.”

  For lack of a proper chaperone, Pandora accompanied her mistress to her entertainments. To Eliza’s chagrin, Pandy often escaped from the servant’s domain to peer out at the guests and blatantly spy upon her. “Mmm. That they are, m’lady. Keen enough to notice the bonny Duke watching you all night.”

  Eliza gasped. “Never say it! Women are mere playthings to a man like Nicholas Delaford.”

  “Ah but I could think of worse things.”

  Eliza laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Incorrigible. Enough about the dratted man and tell me what gossip you gleaned tonight.”

  With swift efficiency, Pandora put away the elegant evening gown and drew the night rail over Eliza’s head. “Lord Bailsworthy attacked the family governess and she, no more than one and twenty. Got her with child and cast her out, he did.” Pandy sniffed, affronted. “Miss Kathleen is with her da and mum, but cannot stay there as they have no notion that she is with child. Surely, they will toss her out when it becomes known. And that fine lord kicked her out without a reference or a farthing, the bloody bastard!”

  Eliza sighed. “Bloody bastard, indeed. Well, I see now that I need to call on Lord Bailsworthy one fine evening very soon.”

  “Tomorrow should be a clear night,” Pandora said. Already her eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Word has it the young lord nightly visits the hells. The Bloody Cock and The Thorn and Thistle are his favorite haunts.”

  “Tomorrow night it is, assuming the weather is fine,” Eliza said. “See that Kathleen is found and taken, if she wishes, to our refuge.”

  “As you wish. I find it sad that we cannot help all of them, my lady.”

  “I know. Once married, a woman is completely subjugated. She has no rights or recourse. We can help the others, however. Those young unmarried women, who are seduced or raped, need our help, and the money we steal helps see to their care. This is truly all that we can do until laws and attitudes change.”

  Eliza, feeling suddenly drained after a night filled with temptation and turmoil, slid between cool cotton sheets and savored the scent of rose that clung to the fabric. “We shall discuss this more tomorrow, Pandy,” she said on a yawn.

  “As you wish.”

  When the door shut behind her maid, Eliza closed her eyes and tried to plot a way for the dastardly Bailsworthy to pay for his misdeeds. Instead, her thoughts focused upon a certain duke. She’d thought herself immune to a handsome face and courtly manners. She’d believed, mistakenly it seemed, that she was impervious to dashing good looks, broad shoulders and a face meant to invade a woman’s dreams.

  Silly twit!

  As hard as she tried, she simply could not push thoughts of the man from her mind. It proved to be a very long night indeed.

  Chapter Four

  Rain slapped out a steady beat against the windows of Eliza’s Grosvenor Street townhouse. Opening her bleary eyes to the gray shadows permeating her room, she thought for just a moment of attempting a bit more sleep, but knew the effort would be futile. Haunting dreams made her toss and turn through the long, stormy night, and the continuing weather merely added to her misery.

  Fortune, it seemed, was not with her.

  Serious riders enjoyed their early morning forays through Hyde Park. A fast, exhilarating ride would have been just the thing to shake off her dour mood, but it was simply not meant to be.

  Eliza sighed, prayed for patience.

  Assuming the weather cleared, she would be relegated to a stately stroll along Rotten Row much later in the day. The promenade would fill with London’s elite who were more concerned with being seen than in the actual exercise of riding. Hyde Park in the afternoon was a ridiculous display of manners, fashion and, of course, gossip. Today much of that gossip would be focused upon herself.

  Best face it bravely and go forward.

  Steeling herself for the day to come, she donned a morning gown of apple green sprigged with yellow flowers. A fichu of Mechlin lace was tucked and draped about the neckline.

  Once seated at her dressing table, she tucked a stray lock of hair into the braided coronet at the crown of her head. As was her habit, she opened a Mother of Pearl-inlaid box, a gift from her sister, and reached inside. Alone on its bed of black velvet lay the gold watch she’d stolen from Edward. The gift from Charlotte to her husband on their wedding day was something with which Eliza had been unable to part. Pressing the latch to open it, Eliza read, once again, the words written there.

  To my husband on our wedding day

  Yours,

  Charlotte

  The words enforced her resolve and served as a reminder of her quest. Today, however, she felt cowardice roar up to rip away her confidence. It was a deadly game she played, and after last night’s scene, all eyes would be focused in her direction.

  A dangerous situation for a thief, indeed.

  Her goal in attending the rout had been solely for the purpose of gleaning what information she could, yet she’d been unwillingly tossed into a sea of speculation.

  Then there was the Duke.

  How was she to focus on her work after he had behaved in such an outrageous manner? Perhaps it was as simple as avoiding him, or maybe he had forgotten her already. Eliza didn’t know him after all. With his satyr’s face and godlike body, he surely could have his choice of female companionship.

  Surely he would forget her. Most likely, he would
not.

  Those silver eyes had blazed in the darkness, certain of the night’s outcome. Determination was there, to be sure, along with a strange glint of something indecipherable that had sent a thrilling shiver through her body.

  Eliza had never been so at odds. Her heart battled with her head and she knew that her mind must rule if she were to succeed on her chosen course. She had no time for men. Most particularly men like Nicholas Delaford, who could make her forget her quest.

  London was a city teeming with amusements at the height of the Season. Most likely, she would not see him often considering the crush of people abiding here.

  Closing the box, she went downstairs to face her father over breakfast and the morning issue of The Times. Like herself, Lord Henry was an early riser and if one wanted to speak with him, haste was imperative as he was wont to retreat from his wife and daughter.

  “Good morning, Papa,” she said upon entering the dining room.

  Lord Henry set down the paper and gave her a solemn nod. “Hello, Moppet.”

  She laughed softly as she filled her plate from the sideboard. “I ceased being a Moppet many years ago, as you well know.”

  “Old habit, my dear. You shall always be my Moppet despite the fact that you have blossomed into a beautiful and courageous young woman.”

  She took a chair to her father’s right and broke open a steaming hot muffin to butter. Rolling her eyes, she scoffed. “Hah. Hardly courageous.”

  Henry stared at her through eyes identical to her own and shook his head. “From the account in this morning’s Times, you faced your sister’s killer like Joan of Arc and a Valkyrie rolled into one. Everyone is singing your praises for dealing with the devil as you did. You must have been magnificent, my dear. My only wish is that I had been there to take up the sword in your defense.”

  “Never say it, Papa. At the time of Lottie’s death you wanted to duel with him. Never were we, Mother and I, more relieved than when he left immediately for the continent.”