Kathryn Caskie - [Royle Sisters 02] (6 page)

I
t was nearly daybreak when Sir Lumley Lilywhite, grumbling beneath his labored breath, ushered Anne and Elizabeth into their sponsor’s grand house at Two Cavendish Square in Marylebone.

Anne was exhausted both in mind and body, but not so fully as Lady Upperton appeared to be. Evidently the old woman had not slept at all, but had instead waited up for Lilywhite’s couriered report from the MacLaren rout.

Her pale blue eyes were threaded with crimson as she blinked up from the petite settee where she sat awaiting their arrival.

Beleaguered by a bothersome cold upon her chest, she hadn’t condescended to change from her bedclothes, despite the expected presence of
a gentleman. Instead, Lady Upperton met her guests in a rumpled brocade dressing gown with an embroidered nightcap crowning her curly white hair. Her tiny slipper-clad feet, dangling several inches from the floor, kicked spasmodically the moment her gaze fell upon the Royle sisters.

“Are you absolutely mad?” Lady Upperton shrieked as Lilywhite brusquely angled Anne and Elizabeth toward the settee. “Anne, you said you were his
betrothed
! Oh dear.” She raised a finger in the air, then squeezed her eyes tightly closed and readied a handkerchief below her red nose to stifle a sneeze. “A moment, please.”

Anne shot a glance over her shoulder at Lilywhite as Lady Upperton waved her lace-edged linen before her face…waiting.

“My, good news does travel quickly in London”—Anne looked at her sister—“doesn’t it, Elizabeth?”

“This is hardly good news, Anne,” Elizabeth chided. “But, la, he is handsome. Have you ever seen eyes that color? They are like sapphires.”

“Please do not mention sapphires to me, Elizabeth.” Anne cast a furtive glance at the ring on her finger.

Lady Upperton opened her eyes, the sneeze crisis temporarily averted. “Indeed your betrothal is
not
good news! It is dreadful.” Lady Upperton settled her handkerchief in her lap and lifted a dainty blue and white cup from the oversized tea table before her. “Lilywhite, be a dear and let the gentlemen know the gels have arrived.”

Lilywhite nodded and walked across the library to the column-framed bookcase beside the cold hearth. Though both Anne and Elizabeth had witnessed what he was about to do several times before, it never failed to impress them. They watched as Lilywhite pressed his plump hand to a carved image of a goddess’s face on one of the columns. Her pert nose depressed beneath his hand.

No sooner had this occurred than there was a faint click and whine of hinges, and suddenly the lower portion of the huge bookcase swung wide, revealing a secret passage. The portly man shifted his considerable weight from one leg to the other, waddled into the dark opening, and disappeared from sight.

“Dear Lady Upperton, if you will permit me, I will explain everything to your satisfaction.”
Anne closed the space between herself and the small, elderly woman, and slid onto the settee beside her.

“Sweeting,” Lady Upperton began, “I know you are a clever, resourceful gel, but I cannot fathom what set of events could have passed that would require you to make such an outlandish claim as being Lord MacLaren’s betrothed.”

“It is not as if I had any other alternative.” Anne lifted Lady Upperton’s almost child-sized hand and squeezed it, unintentionally wrinkling the woman’s translucent skin as if it were made of tissue. “He caught me in his bedchamber, and then I screamed, and the countess—nay, all of society—caught
us
in what could be construed as a most compromising situation. You must know how any sort of attention vexes me. How difficult it was to stand beneath the judgmental gazes of the
ton
—and to be forced to lie.”

“But Anne, claiming to be the earl’s betrothed! If it is attention you fear, why, child, you’ve made it worse—you’ve magnified the notice you will receive from this night forth.”

“I did not choose my lie. The earl’s friend, Lord Apsley was his name, offered up a somewhat plausible explanation for the two of us be
ing found together in his bedchamber—that we were
betrothed
. I had no choice, at the moment, but to grasp at any explanation he offered.”

There was a distinct click of a cane upon the floor. Anne glanced up to see two tall, elegantly dressed elderly gentlemen enter the library through the secret door connecting Lady Upperton’s home with the Old Rakes of Marylebone gentlemen’s club next door. Sir Lumley, somewhat slower in gait, brought up the rear of the column, and within a moment the three gentlemen had joined the ladies before the settee.

“Lilywhite, you were a damned fool to allow the gel to make such a claim.” Lord Lotharian, the self-proclaimed king of the elderly cadre glanced from Lilywhite to Anne, and then shook his head dolefully.

Anne lifted her palms before Lotharian. “I tell you I had
no choice
.”

“Well, she could have done worse—even saddled with his notoriously wicked reputation. There is a limited supply of unattached earls in London, you know.” Lord Gallantine, whose auburn wig sat slightly askew on his pate, settled his hand on Lotharian’s shoulder. “Still, I agree, with my man here. Why, the earl could have just
as easily denied the betrothal and pointed out you, Anne, as naught but a thief in the night.”

“Yes, he could have, but he did
not
deny it when Apsley tossed the explanation into the air. Instead, he said nothing. And at that moment I knew,
I knew
, claiming to be his betrothed was my only hope of avoiding ruin—or arrest.”

Lotharian chuckled at that. “She has a keen eye for human nature, this one. Shall I teach her how to play piquet?”

“You will do nothing of the sort, Lotharian.” Lady Upperton turned her cool gaze from the gentleman and affixed it firmly on Anne. “Did you at least find the letters, child?”

“I did not. The rapscallion of an earl caught me the moment I opened the curtains for light.”

“How then did you explain your presence in his bedchamber?” The old woman pursed her lips and lifted a white eyebrow questioningly. “Whatever you said must have been quite believable. After all, you are here and not in chains.”

“I did not manage to tell him anything before—” Anne rounded her eyes and gulped down a fortifying breath.

Elizabeth hurried to her sister and knelt before
her. “Before what, sister?” She set a hand gently on Anne’s knee. “’Tis all right. You can tell us. No matter what he did…well, we are here for you. We will always be here for you.”

“Wh-what? Oh, good heavens! No.” Anne shoved Elizabeth’s hand away. “When he grabbed me, he unwittingly stepped on the edge of the floorboard.
The
floorboard, and it started to pop open!”

Lady Upperton gasped and clapped her pudgy fingers to her lips. “He did not see—”

Anne was already shaking her head. “No. I stepped on the rising board and threw myself against him—pretending to faint.”

“Quick thinking. She has a knack for this, just as you said, Lotharian.” Lilywhite smiled broadly. “Miss Anne, your father would have been so proud of you.”

Elizabeth frowned. “What of the letters? Did you see them? Are they still under the floorboard beneath the window?”

Anne grimaced. “I wish I knew. There was no time to look. No time for anything. For the next thing I knew, all of society was barging into the bedchamber and I was forging the grandest lie of my life.”

“Oh, Dove, perhaps matters are not so dire as we believe.” Lady Upperton sniffed, likely due to the cold upon her chest, and hugged Anne close. “Why, once we have the letters, you will simply cry off.”

Anne wearily broke the embrace. “Lady Upperton, I had thought to do just that. But after speaking with the earl privately this evening—la, it is nearly morning…
last
evening—I have learned that my path to any sort of resolution will not be direct. It seems I must endure the focus of the
ton
awhile longer.”

Lilywhite groaned softly as he lowered his old bones into a chair near the settee. “MacLaren informed the gel he won’t have it. Crying off is not an option, he told her.” He huffed. “Said he won’t have his mother shamed that way again. I reckon ’tis his own shame he is most concerned about, now that he must assume his father’s family responsibilities—and likely in the House of Lords as well.”

Lord Lotharian poked a bony finger into the air. “But our gel here is the true victim of this scandal, not he nor his sainted mother. Proof of the gels’ heritage was stolen and hidden away by his blackheart of a father. She did nothing
wrong by trying to retrieve that proof. It is her birthright, I say.”

“No, my lord.” Anne came slowly to her feet. “Slipping into his bedchamber to steal a cache of secret letters from the Prince of Wales to Maria Fitzherbert, no matter what they might prove, is a crime. I could have been flung into Newgate! Instead MacLaren, as unbelievable as it might seem, protected my honor.”

“He might have done so, but I am certain he did not do it purposely. He was sotted.” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly. “I am of the belief he was too foxed to react to what was being said just then. Honor, yours or his own, likely never entered his brandy-soaked mind.”

“No matter, whether we like it or not, my name is now connected with the Earl of MacLaren.” Anne raised her left hand and held it before Lady Upperton’s mottled nose. “This is his grandmother’s ring, Lady Upperton. His mother wished that I, his betrothed, would wear it.”

The old woman seized Anne’s hand and brought the ring closer to her eyes. “Dear gel, you cannot keep this.”

“Neither can I seem to remove it—nor the
glove now, for that matter.” Anne sighed and reached out with her free hand to give the ring one more tug, before turning her gaze to the Old Rakes. “I should have known when you three bade me steal the letters this night, that one way or another I would be shackled.”

“Again, I must offer my counsel once more. Marrying the earl is not such a tragic fate, my dear,” Gallantine interjected.

“Marrying the earl is not an option. Our betrothal is folly.” Anne exhaled in frustration. “You speak as if he actually wishes to marry me. He doesn’t! Nor do I wish to marry him. Please, let us not speak of this again. I just want this ring off my finger. Now.”

“Oh, sister, do not be so theatrical.” Elizabeth snatched up Anne’s hand and tried twisting the ring off herself.

“It will not be removed.” Anne jerked her hand back. “You are only making my knuckle swell—”

“It
will
come off,” Elizabeth countered. “When we return to Berkeley Square, we will just cut it off with Mrs. Polkshank’s boning knife and be done with it.”

“My finger?” Anne narrowed her eyes. “Or
the ring, Elizabeth? For I am afraid I cannot allow either to be severed without risking imminent death.”

“Neither, you silly goose,
the glove
.”

Lilywhite cleared his throat. “However we decide to remedy this betrothal problem, we must do it soon. Lord MacLaren has informed me, as well as Anne, that he intends to call this very eve to set the situation to rights.”

“Time is of the essence, it seems.” Lotharian clapped his hands loudly, startling everyone to attention. “Lady Upperton, will you take on the task of devising a congenial end to Anne’s betrothal to MacLaren?”

Lotharian did not even wait for the old woman’s reply before turning to Elizabeth. His eyes twinkled with a mischievous gleam. “Elizabeth, dear, I know your cook is extraordinarily skilled in coaxing information from footmen. Will you please ask Mrs. Polkshank to ascertain whether the MacLaren house staff will be off duty tonight? I have heard that Lady MacLaren is generous to the staff in this way after a grand gathering.”

Elizabeth nodded blankly.

“Lord Lotharian, why must you know the
whereabouts of the MacLaren house staff?” Anne could not mask the suspicion in her voice. “You are planning something, aren’t you? Why, it is plain in your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Lotharian laughed.

“If your scheme involves…” Anne narrowed her gaze at the old man as it suddenly occurred to her what he might be thinking. “Oh
no
. I will not enter the earl’s bedchamber again. I will not do it.”

“Darling gel, no one is asking you to do such a thing.” Lotharian reached out his long arm and patted her shoulder. “No need to fret.”

Anne’s tensed muscles had just begun to relax when she glimpsed Lotharian casting a covert wink to his left, sending a brief, almost imperceptible grin to Gallantine’s thin lips.

A shiver raced over Anne’s skin.

Oh dear God.
What now?

Half-past nine of the clock in the evening

The night air, damp from the earlier rain, could almost be called mild, and Laird felt perfectly comfortable walking in his plum-hued kersey
mere dress coat. He was neither too cool nor too warm, and the walk from Cockspur Street to Berkeley Square was rather bracing.

Besides, Apsley deserved to walk after what he’d done.

“Pick up your hooves, you addle-pated fool.”

“I am not fully to blame, MacLaren. You bloody well bet me I couldn’t do it.”

Laird didn’t respond.

“And the gel, why was she in your bedchamber anyway? You know, I have a notion she saw your vulnerable state and decided to catch you in the parson’s mousetrap.”

“Do shut up, Apsley.”

“I heard that her guardian is Lilywhite, one of the Old Rakes of Marylebone. They’re a wicked lot—think they’ll allow me to join once I’m gray?—anyway, wouldn’t doubt it if we were to learn he put her up to it. Heard they trapped a duke for the older sister. Why not an earl for the blonde chit?” Apsley was already struggling for breath. “Really, MacLaren, I could have called for my landau or a hackney—rather than walk.”

“Enough! Like it or not, you are going to help me untangle this bloody knot you’ve tied.” Laird
could not bring himself to look at Apsley. “And stop complaining. We’re walking.”

“Well, I can see that.” Apsley huffed, making a great show of his exertion and displeasure. “Sod it all, had I been meant to walk halfway across Town I would have been born a coalman…not heir to an earldom.”