Laura Matthews (21 page)

“A striking-looking man, and very clever.”

“Rich. He is very rich, Sir Noah. His is one of the first families of France, and he is not at all pleased with Jacques’s politics.” A smug gleam appeared in her eyes. “He cannot resist me, even with such a disadvantage as a brother intent on destroying the privileges of his own class.”

“Where is Preslin’s seat?”

“Near Moulins in Bourbonnais. A magnificent palace and everything in the first style of elegance.”

“I’m surprised he’s in town when he could escape this heat and relax in such surroundings. By now London will be thinning of company. Bourbonnais. I hear there have been disturbances there.”

“Bah. Nothing to speak of. We take no heed of these brigands. We would be in the country ourselves if it were not for Jacques’ work at the Assembly,” she said crossly.

“I’m sure you’ll not lack for invitations to visit the country,” Noah remarked with an all inclusive gesture about the flower-filled room. “Perhaps even to the vicomte’s magnificent home. But no, I suppose he must be cautious in associating with you if he is set against your brother’s politics.”

“No such thing!” she flared. “If I were to give even the smallest hint that I wished to visit the palace, he would organize a house party on the instant.”

“Oh, my dear,” Noah retorted with twitching lips, “you exaggerate.”

She regarded him with indignant blue eyes. “You have a very small concept of the power I hold over him, sir.”

“Well,” Noah laughed indulgently, “do not neglect to have me included in the invitation. I should like to see this remarkable palace.”

And if Françoise was not able to convince the vicomte to organize a house party on the instant, later in the day she advised Noah with a self-congratulatory smirk that he would be welcome to join the party there in two weeks’ time. The delay was a further oppression
to
Noah’s impatience to be home, and he attempted to compose a letter to his wife but, being unable to offer any valid reason for prolonging his stay in France and hopeful that he need be there only a short time more, he at length decided not to write at all.

Chapter Nineteen

Lady Lawrence’s last letter from London contained news of the preparations for Peter’s wedding, to which all of the Lawrences had been invited at the last moment, and which Olivia’s mother-in-law had no intention of attending, since Olivia would not be there.

“I find it not the least elevating,” she wrote with understandable vexation, “to be included in a guest list of five hundred odd, where the bride is widely known to have spent a thousand guineas on her gown and then changed her mind about it, and the groom makes mockery of the wedding service with his drinking companions each night.”

The letter ended with Lady Lawrence’s expressions of relief that she would be returning to Welling Towers shortly now, as the town was hot and Julianna had found several young ladies willing to assist her in seeing Alexander Cutler on the sly. Olivia acknowledged her mother-in-law’s exasperation at being unable to keep Julianna in check in town, but wondered if she would have any greater success at the Towers.

While Miss Stewart dabbed at her eyes in the inn yard, Olivia rallied her by declaring, “I hope those tears are not on my account, my dear Miss Stewart. In a few days Lady Lawrence and Julianna will be here and I am sure it will take my sister days to tell me all she’s done in London. By that time perhaps Sir Noah will have completed his business and returned.”

“I do hope so.” Miss Stewart determinedly blew her nose and thrust her handkerchief in her reticule.

“And you will have many pleasant hours hearing of your correspondent’s travels. You may even think of some tales of your own to relate, though I would be the first to admit that we have not led an especially exciting life while you’ve been here.”

Miss Stewart smiled gently. “It is exactly what I could have wished, Olivia. Nothing pleases me more than the decorating we’ve done. I’ll be sure to send you some fabric samples from town for the extra cushions you found in the attics. I do hope the others will be pleased with the results.”

“How could they help but be?” Olivia protested, laughing. “I shall miss you and hope you can return to visit when the whole family is here.”

When the guard called the passengers to board, Miss Stewart was handed in and waved with forced gaiety from her window seat to Olivia, who stood rather forlornly by her carriage returning the gesture. Olivia’s hand dropped to her side as the coach moved out of sight. She was tempted to remain in Thetford to buy a new shawl or a pair of boots but mindful of Miss Stewart’s admonition on spending money out of boredom, she allowed herself to be handed into the carriage.

During her solitary ride back to the Towers she tried to lift her spirits with thoughts of her progress in driving the phaeton, of her charming new suite, of being reunited with Lady Lawrence and Julianna. But her mind would not obey her. Why should she have to be alone, she thought resentfully. Why did Noah not return? What did he expect from her? She had done all she could to make him happy and had intended to do more when they were at the Towers together. What had she done wrong to make him leave her for all this time, with his paltry excuses of business in Paris?

They were never-ending, unanswerable questions, and she tired of the uselessness of asking them of herself. Wearily she climbed out of the carriage and entered the house.

* * * *

Noah rode escort to the carriage which bore Françoise and a married cousin, acting as her chaperone, to the Vicomte de Preslin’s palace near Moulins. Proud as he was of Welling Towers, Noah had to admit that it bore no comparison to the magnificence he observed as he rode through the triumphal arch. The towers of the palace were visible to the left, but immediately in view were the lake with its old stone bridge, miles of oak-studded parkland and an obelisk down an avenue of elms to the right.

Françoise took Noah’s arm as they were ushered into the Great Hall. “Did I not tell you it was
extraordinaire?
The columns, the painted ceiling, the suits of armour, the ironwork on the balcony. There is nothing to match it in all of France, I promise you. And wait until you see the state rooms with their tapestries and frescoes. It is a fairy tale palace with no possible spot left ungilded. Ah, and here is our host.”

The vicomte advanced with a formal smile of greeting which was perhaps the closest he came to being warm. Taking Françoise’s hand, he raised it to his lips and murmured, “
Enchanté.
You do me honor to grace my home.”

“I am delighted to be here again. You remember my cousin, Madame d’Astai, and Sir Noah Lawrence.”

While Françoise chatted gaily with her host, Noah covertly studied the man. His noble brow was accentuated by the moderate wig he wore, and every feature was perfectly modeled, but there was a tightness about the mouth and a superciliousness in his gaze which suggested no possibility of compromise.

It was only fancy, of course, but Noah thought it a rather ruthless face, denoting a man whose will one opposed at one’s peril. As they were led along the vaulted corridors, Noah expressed his admiration of the building and a desire to see the whole.

The vicomte was all condescending politeness. “I shall have my secretary conduct you about the house if you wish, Sir Noah. He is as familiar with it as any member of the family could be.”

Encouraged by Noah’s enthusiastic interest, the secretary, Armand Dupin, led him not only over the principal apartments but the kitchen and stable courts as well. Although there was a great deal to admire in the chapel and the long library, the state rooms, drawing rooms, and saloons, Noah was most concerned with the location of the estate management area and the vicomte’s private office.

“I find it convenient,” Noah remarked, “to have my own office at Welling Towers located near my estate agent’s.”

“Yes, it simplifies matters a great deal. My own office is here directly beside that of the estate office, and the vicomte’s is but a step around the corner in the West Wing. We pride ourselves on the efficiency of our organization here, Sir Noah.”

“It is evident that you do. My own arrangements are not on so grand a scale, of course, but I can appreciate the measures you’ve taken to facilitate matters.” As they passed into the West Wing and the secretary made no effort to open any of the doors, Noah mused, “I might be wise to establish more system to my work. My desk is perpetually a flood of papers and books. But there, I dare say even the vicomte is unable to keep a tidy desk.”

M. Dupin was grossly offended. “A well-regulated mind cannot tolerate disorder about it,” he said sternly and turned back to a heavy oak door they had passed. He carefully selected a key from the ring he held and unlocked it, standing so as to allow Noah a view of the room, but no entry. “You see, the vicomte has never a book or pen out of place.”

Quickly Noah ran his eye over the room, with its enormous mahogany desk and matching cabinet, book shelves and chairs. True, it was orderly; it also presented rather the impression of a fortress. The desk and cabinet both had locks of startling size and apparent durability. “Remarkable. I’m impressed and shall account it a lesson,” he said ruefully as the secretary snapped the door closed behind him. Surely there was no way to get to the dispatches if they were harbored in
that
room.

* * * *

The carriage which swept up to the portals of Welling Towers with Lady Lawrence and her daughter was loaded down with trunks and portmanteaux. Olivia had been watching for their arrival and hastened to greet them as they stepped down from the vehicle. Julianna, having sustained a lecture from her mother during the last hours of their journey, on the necessity of seeing less of Mr. Cutler now that they were returning home, was outwardly subdued but inwardly rebellious.

Olivia very nearly tripped over her skirts as she flew to her mother-in-law and hugged her. “It is so
good
to see you both. I can hardly wait to hear all you have to tell me about London.” She turned to Julianna and cried, “What an enchanting carriage dress! You’re blooming. I can see that all the balls and parties have agreed with you. Did you see the Prince of Wales? Is the Duchess of Devonshire as beautiful as they say? Did you meet Mr. Fox? You have hardly written a line, and now you must tell me all.”

“I’m glad to see you, Olivia, but I am tired,” Julianna murmured as she moved away. “Perhaps we shall talk later.”

The hurt in Olivia’s eyes did not escape Lady Lawrence, who immediately launched into an account of their journey, concluding, “I cannot tell you how delightful it is to be home and to see you, Olivia.” She patted her daughter-in-law’s arm as they walked across the hall.

“After you’ve rested and refreshed yourselves, we have a very elaborate tea planned for you. With all the things
you like, Julianna,” she urged hopefully.

“I dare say we did not miss one day in the whole time we were in London when we did not have a sumptuous tea at one house or another.”

Olivia nodded, unable to speak. When they had disappeared up the stairs, with one last warm smile from Lady Lawrence, she settled in the drawing room with an open book, shaken by her sister-in-law’s attitude. When the travelers joined her, she and Lady Lawrence talked while Julianna concentrated her attention on the cream puffs.

At length, Julianna asked, “Have you heard from Noah?”

“I had a note from him in Paris,” Olivia admitted.

Julianna sniffed. “I don’t think he would have told us he was there at all if he hadn’t happened upon Mrs. Beaglett.”

Although she thought her daughter was probably right, Lady Lawrence said reprovingly, “There is no need to be rude, Julianna. Your brother’s affairs are his concern alone, and we need not trouble where they take him.” She turned rather hesitantly to Olivia and continued, “I’m glad that you heard from him. Did he make any mention of when he intended to return home?”

“He said he had no idea. You learned nothing further from Mrs.—Beaglett, was it?”

“Only that he was with a very attractive French woman,” Julianna interposed before her mother could speak.

Lady Lawrence frowned at her daughter and restrained an impulse to shake her. Casually, she remarked, “Yes, Noah was with the Comte de Mauppard and his sister, and indicated that he did not expect to be in Paris long, but that must have been some weeks ago.”

She was unable to say anything further, lest her own annoyance at the situation show as clearly as her daughter’s. With relief she acceded to Olivia’s suggestion that they be shown the projects she had worked on during their absence. Her enthusiasm was greater than Olivia had expected, and thus rather suspect, but Julianna had little to say.

The last room to be inspected was Olivia’s bedchamber, and after expressing her admiration, Lady Lawrence excused herself and left the two young ladies alone. Olivia could think of nothing to say, but stood staring at the toes of her white kid half boots.

Julianna grasped her hands. “Dearest Olivia, I don’t know what has come over me! Mama harangued me for two hours before we arrived and has put me in the sullens. I beg you, pay no heed to me, my love. Your decorating is delightful, and I am sincerely pleased to be with you again.” Her eyes were over-bright with unshed tears, and she averted her face from Olivia’s gaze.

“I’m sure no one would wonder at your nerves being on edge after such an exciting season and a wearying journey,” Olivia returned gently.

“Well, you seem in such spirits, when it cannot have been much joy to be here alone for so long. I should like to strangle my brother,” she said fiercely.

“I have not been alone most of the time, you know. Miss Stewart’s company was most enjoyable.”

“But you were wont to say that she was afraid of her own shadow.”

“And so she was, but something has given her a new confidence. I think perhaps it is a beau, though she would never say. She received several letters, and planned the length of her stay accordingly.”

“Aha,” Julianna declared triumphantly. “She is doubtless engaged in a clandestine affair with a most unsuitable young man.”