Lord Buckingham’s Bride (10 page)

His eyes were very blue. ‘Who knows indeed?' he said softly, then he turned to indicate the steps. ‘Let us enter the fray.'

He offered her his arm and they proceeded up toward the
tree-lined
waterfront above. Behind them the
Irina
still shone on the wide Neva, her crimson sails furled and her beautiful figurehead gazing toward the crowded pontoon bridge.

They crossed the wide paved street toward the Clearwell residence, and a light breeze blew in from the sea, stirring through the trees. Alison's heart began to beat more swiftly as they passed the waiting carriage and beneath the colonnaded portico to the door, where the maid had now gone in after polishing the lion's-head knocker until it sparkled. As they waited for the door to open in response to Francis's authoritative knock, Alison glanced back down at Mrs Fairfax-Gunn's carriage and four.

Suddenly the door opened, and they were confronted by a
stern-faced
butler in a dark-brown velvet coat and beige knee breeches. His complexion was sallow and his eyes were set together above an aquiline nose, and on his head there reposed a powdered wig. He didn't look Russian, as indeed he wasn't, for he spoke with a Scottish accent and his name was Mackay.

On hearing who they were he immediately admitted them,
murmuring a welcome to St Petersburg and saying that they hadn't been expected to arrive together. They stepped into an entrance hall of great splendor, with a shining parquet floor, walls hung with exquisite green silk, and a lofty ceiling from which hung no fewer than eight crystal chandeliers. A marble staircase swept up between Corinthian columns toward the floor above and the main reception rooms. Then it continued on up to the next floor and the bedrooms. Paneled mirrors on the walls gave a cunning illusion of endless vistas, and the only item of furniture was a golden couch placed before the huge fire burning in the wide marble hearth to their right. Two portraits hung on either side of the chimney breast, one of Catherine the Great and the other of King George III. There were a number of foliage plants standing in polished brass bowls, some of them
climbing
up the columns and others over treillages. The Russian winters were long and harsh, and so summer was recreated indoors. The scent of hyacinths was everywhere, for vases of the heady spring blooms stood all around; it was a perfume that ever afterward would remind Alison of the moment she entered her uncle's house in St Petersburg.

Mackay relieved them both of their outdoor clothes and then paused, a little perplexed. ‘Begging your pardon, sir,' he said to Francis, ‘but isn't there any luggage? Perhaps Miss Clearwell's maid has remained with it on board the ship?'

‘It's a long story, Mackay, but Miss Clearwell has no maid or
chaperone
, and only a single valise, and all my luggage will arrive tonight when the
Pavlovsk
gets in.'

The butler looked mystified. ‘Very well, sir. Mrs Clearwell is out at the moment because her father is returning to Novgorod today, but Mr Clearwell is in the grand salon. Mrs Fairfax-Gunn has called, so if you would be so kind as to remain here, I will inform him of your arrival.'

‘That's quite in order, Mackay. Proceed as you wish,' replied Francis.

‘Thank you, sir.' Bowing, the butler spirited their outdoor garments away to where a footman was discreetly waiting, then the footman melted away into the shadows while the butler went slowly up the staircase.

Francis drew Alison toward the fireplace and ushered her on to the
sofa. Then he smiled down at her. ‘Journey's end at last.'

She glanced around. ‘It feels very odd to be in this house, for although it belongs to my only uncle, it's still the house of a complete stranger.'

‘Surely not a complete stranger, for you know his son, William, well enough.'

‘William and I aren't that well acquainted; indeed, you most
probably
know him better than I.' She looked away as the thought crossed her mind that Pamela too knew William a great deal better than she. She wondered if Francis knew about Pamela's close friendship with William, for the Marchingtons had gone to considerable lengths to conceal what they saw as their daughter's indiscretion.

Mackay was coming back downstairs, and at the bottom he hastened to stand in readiness by the front door, thus indicating that Mrs Fairfax-Gunn's brief visit was at an end. The voices of a lady and gentleman echoed from the floor above as Mr Clearwell politely escorted his guest, and what they were saying carried very closely down into the hall below.

‘My dear Mr Clearwell, I'm so disappointed that your wife isn't at home as expected, but of course I understand that she must put her father before me. Now, then, you will come to the opera tonight, won't you? And now that your niece, Miss Clearwell, is here, to say nothing of dear Lord Buckingham, I simply insist that they come as well. I know it isn't the thing to fill one's box, but I think five is quite acceptable.'

‘Er, I'm sure they'll be delighted to accept, Mrs Fairfax-Gunn, for the cream of St Petersburg society is bound to attend now that Czar Alexander is to be there.'

‘Mr Clearwell, do you think that the Countess Irina will attend? I've been in St Petersburg for more than a week now and I've been so longing to see her, but I fear she hasn't left her residence on Crustoosky Island—'

‘Krestovsky Island,' said Mr Clearwell.

‘I beg your pardon? Oh, yes, I'm afraid my command of these Russian names is too dreadful for words. Where was I? The Countess Irina. Do you think she will attend?'

‘It is her custom to attend first nights, Mrs Fairfax-Gunn, and I
happen to know that she is particularly fond of Mozart.'

‘Oh, I do hope you are right, for I'm dying to see her. I'm told she's quite the most beautiful woman in the whole of Russia.'

‘Well, since I haven't seen the entire female population of Russia, I cannot presume to comment,' Alison's uncle replied, ‘but she most certainly is very striking.'

‘Red hair, I understand.'

‘Titian hair,' replied Mr Clearwell.

‘Red, titian, what's the difference?' remarked Mrs Fairfax-Gunn, obviously a little miffed at being put right a second time. Then she forgot her mild annoyance and bubbled irrepressibly on. ‘I'm so excited now that the countess's brother has returned. You are certain that the schooner belongs to him?'

‘Quite certain, for the
Irina
is very distinctive, and the view from this house is quite superb.'

‘Such an elegant vessel,' agreed Mrs Fairfax-Gunn. ‘Oh, I can't wait to meet the prince; indeed, I shall do my utmost to win an
introduction
. They say he's devastatingly handsome.' She sighed wistfully. ‘I was so afraid that I wouldn't even see him because he was in Stockholm, but now he's back, and—'

‘Madam, it could be that the schooner sailed without him, and he's still in Stockholm,' Mr Clearwell pointed out patiently.

‘Oh, no, I'm certain he's here,' she declared. ‘Do you think he will be at the opera tonight?'

‘I really have no idea, Mrs Fairfax-Gunn.'

‘I certainly hope he will be, for I absolutely refuse to return to England without being able to boast that I've met the most important man in St Petersburg after Czar Alexander himself.'

The voices were almost at the top of the staircase now, and Alison turned to stare up for her first glimpse of her uncle and the infamous Mrs Fairfax-Gunn. But at the precise moment that a splash of bright vermillion came into view, Francis suddenly stepped forward and took her hand, bending as he raised it to his lips. He lingered over the moment, enclosing her hand in both his, and it was a deliberately
intimate
gesture, fully intended to be witnessed by the two people who had just arrived at the head of the staircase.

Alison's breath caught and color rushed into her cheeks. She tried
to snatch her hand away, but it was too late, and anyway Francis held her too tightly. She looked accusingly into his eyes, for she hadn't expected his action, and she didn't like having such a gesture forced upon her in front of the uncle she had never met and in whose house she was to stay.

His eyes were very blue and compelling. ‘We've chosen our course and we're going to follow it to its conclusion, Alison,' he said softly, then he slowly relaxed his hold upon her fingers.

At the top of the staircase Mr Clearwell and Mrs Fairfax-Gunn had come to an astonished halt, taken completely by surprise by the apparently loving scene they had just witnessed by the fireplace.

A
lison's cheeks were crimson with embarrassment as she turned unwillingly to look up. Her uncle was so like her father that he might have been his twin instead of his elder by six years. He had the same tall, lean, courtly good looks, and his gray hair hadn't thinned at all. His indigo wool coat boasted a black velvet collar, and the gold buckles on his white silk knee breeches matched the buckles on his black shoes. A starched neckcloth burgeoned at his throat, and the lace adorning the front of his shirt protruded from a partially buttoned waistcoat of fine old-rose brocade. His hazel eyes, mirrors of her father's, were at first just astonished, but they then darkened with anger as he began to descend.

Mrs Arabella Fairfax-Gunn simply couldn't believe her eyes, or her good fortune, in having happened upon a scene as intriguing as the one she had just observed. Could it really be that she had seen
handsome
Lord Buckingham, who was soon to be betrothed to dear Lady Pamela Linsey, tenderly kissing the hand of an unmarried young lady with whom he had apparently been traveling alone? The
scandalmonger's
clever eyes cast swiftly around the hall, but found no sign of a maid or a chaperon, or even of any luggage. How very, very
curious
. For a moment she hesitated, but then swept on down the
staircase
in Mr Clearwell's wake.

She was as short and round as Francis had said, and her porcine figure was clad in the most unbecoming vermilion pelisse and
matching
gown. Even the plumes springing from her wide-brimmed hat had been dyed vermilion, and they quivered like the antennae of a monstrous insect that had just detected a delicious tidbit nearby. Her
brown eyes glittered as they rested appraisingly on the two new arrivals. Something was afoot, her every instinct told her so.

Alison felt quite dreadful as her uncle reached them. His bright glance encompassed her for a moment and then moved to Francis. Lowering his voice so as not to be heard by the swiftly approaching Mrs Fairfax-Gunn, he spoke very briefly. ‘I trust you have a suitable explanation at the ready, sir.'

He said no more, because Mrs Fairfax-Gunn swept up in an eager rustle of costly silk. Her expert gaze moved calculatingly over every inch of Alison's appearance, her lips twitched shrewdly and then she beamed at Francis. ‘Why, dear Lord Buckingham, what a delightful and unexpected pleasure it is to see you here. Until a few moments ago I had no idea at all that you were coming to St Petersburg.' She extended a plump vermilion-gloved hand for him to kiss.

‘Mrs Fairfax-Gunn,' he murmured, obliging with the hand, ‘I have to confess that I had no idea you would be here either.'

Her smile was sleek. ‘I'm quite sure you didn't, sir,' she said,
glancing
pointedly at Alison, who still sat on the sofa, her gaze downcast because she hadn't yet regained her composure. Mrs Fairfax-Gunn's eyes flickered cleverly. ‘Lord Buckingham, do introduce me to Miss Clearwell.'

Again Francis obliged. ‘Mrs Fairfax-Gunn, may I present Miss Clearwell. Alison, this is Mrs Fairfax-Gunn.'

He used Alison's first name quite deliberately, as Alison herself knew full well, but to Mrs Fairfax-Gunn and Mr Clearwell it sounded like a very telling slip of the tongue.

Mr Clearwell's hazel eyes darkened still more, and he was about to speak when Mrs Fairfax-Gunn turned once more to Francis. ‘Lord Buckingham, do tell me how dear Lady Pamela is. Is she well?'

‘She was when last I saw her.'

‘Which was when?'

‘Some time at the beginning of March.'

‘So long ago?' murmured the other, her tone suggesting that he had obviously been busying himself since then.

Mr Clearwell decided that the moment had come to bring the meeting to an end. He was fully aware of Mrs Fairfax-Gunn's
reputation
, and he had no desire to present her with any more
ammunition 
to spread around the drawing rooms of St Petersburg. Giving her a gracious smile, he took her hand and drew it determinedly over his sleeve. ‘Thank you so much for calling today, Mrs Fairfax-Gunn, I'm sorry that Mrs Clearwell wasn't at home, but as I've explained, she is saying goodbye to her father.'

The woman reluctantly allowed herself to be led toward the door, where Mackay was waiting. She halted suddenly, turning to look back at Francis. ‘You and Miss Clearwell are invited to share my box at the opera tonight, Lord Buckingham. Mr and Mrs Clearwell are coming, and I'm sure it will be an excellent evening. It's
Don Giovanni
, you know.'

Francis smiled. ‘Miss Clearwell and I gladly accept your kind
invitation
, Mrs Fairfax-Gunn.'

Triumphant in the knowledge that she would now be able to pry and pump much more, she permitted the discreetly exasperated Mr Clearwell to conduct her to the door, then swept out to her waiting carriage. The door closed behind her and Mr Clearwell walked swiftly back to the two by the fireplace.

His wrath fell initially upon Alison. ‘Well, missy? I'm deeply
disappointed
that our first meeting should take place under such
unfortunate
circumstances. What were you thinking of? How could you indulge in such an unguarded display of affection in front of that infernal woman! Indeed, how could you indulge in it at all! I begin to wonder what manner of lessons you've been receiving at that
so-called
academy for young ladies. I am appalled that you should consider it fit not only to travel unchaperoned, but also in the company of a gentleman who is not even remotely related to you.'

Mr Clearwell turned to Francis. ‘As for you, sir, I trust you're well pleased with yourself for having supplied the town crier with
chitter-chatter
to broadcast up and down the Neva. William's letters led me to believe you to be an upright man of honor, but your conduct here so far hasn't been in the least honorable. Have you no sense of
propriety
?'

‘Sir—'

‘And don't think to fob me off with idle excuses, my lord,'
interrupted
Mr Clearwell before Francis could say anything. ‘I want to hear what you have to say in mitigation – in short, I want a good
defense of your actions. Do I make myself clear?'

‘Abundantly so, sir, and in my defense I can only say that I love your niece and that my actions haven't been in the least frivolous. I realize that I have compromised her in front of Mrs Fairfax-Gunn, but I fear she has been compromised far more in front of Prince Naryshky. Please don't misunderstand, for I haven't taken advantage of her – I care for her too much for that – but due to circumstances that were indeed extenuating, I fear that much damage has been done to Alison's reputation.'

Mr Clearwell stared at him. ‘Do you intend to elucidate upon this?' he asked after a moment, his tone frosty.

‘It's a long story, sir.'

‘Then let us adjourn to the grand salon. Please follow me.' He led the way to the staircase.

The grand salon deserved its name, for it was a very handsome high-ceilinged room on the floor above, occupying one entire side of the mansion. There were tall windows on three walls, some
overlooking
the Neva, some the walled garden at the side, and the rest facing toward the grounds at the rear and the coach houses and stables that backed on to the properties in Horseguards Boulevard, running parallel with English Quay.

Its walls were hung with sumptuous blue-and-silver brocade, and like the hall below it positively glittered with chandeliers. The Russians had an immense liking for brilliantly lit houses, and so most rooms possessed an abundance of chandeliers, candelabra, girandoles, or just simple candleholders. Gilt-framed paintings hung on the walls, the furniture was upholstered in sapphire-blue velvet, and the heavy blue silk curtains were tied with silver ropes. The only wall without windows was taken up with an impressive line of display cabinets and with a wide white marble fireplace. Flame light danced over the rich furnishings and cast moving shadows over the contents of the display cabinets: jade, porphyry, ivory, and exquisite porcelain figurines. The air was again heady with the scent of hyacinths, for there were bowls of the sweet-smelling flowers on every table. There were more plants everywhere, and a beautiful telescope was on a stand by the windows, through which it was possible to observe the Neva and Vassily Island opposite.

Francis conducted Alison to a chair close to the fireplace and then remained standing as he waited for her uncle to be seated.

Mr Clearwell made himself comfortable in what was obviously his favorite chair and then surveyed Francis. ‘Well, sir? I await your story.'

‘Mr Clearwell, please believe me when I say that the last thing I ever wished to do was damage Alison's good name, but I fell in love with her from the moment I saw her, and I'm afraid my interest was beginning to be remarked upon in England. I was naturally anxious to protect her, but with her father's return delayed for so long, and with her understandable wish to obtain his consent, it wasn't acceptable to simply go ahead with a clandestine match. Then, completely by
coincidence
, arrangements were made for her to come here to St Petersburg, and since I knew that you were in fact the head of her family and that you were acting in her father's absence, I made arrangements to come here as well, to seek your permission to marry.'

Alison stared into the fire. If only he were speaking the truth, if only he did love her as he claimed …

Mr Clearwell took a long breath. ‘Proceed, sir.'

‘It was necessary for me to leave England before Alison, and we arranged to meet in Stockholm. She traveled with a chaperone who was engaged for her by Miss Wright in Bath. The chaperone was entirely unsuitable and deserted Alison the moment the ship dropped anchor in Stockholm. Then, that very night, a fire broke out on the ship and Alison only just escaped with her life. It wasn't possible to find another vessel before morning, and so we were forced to stay overnight at an inn. Naturally we took separate rooms, but Alison was already distressed after so much going wrong, and when a thief was apprehended on the premises, she became very upset indeed. It was all too much for her, sir, and I decided that she should not be left alone. I slept in the armchair in her room for the rest of the night.' He paused, waiting for Mr Clearwell to say something, but he remained silent.

Francis proceeded. ‘We didn't think that this impropriety would ever come to light because it happened in Stockholm and we were on the point of coming on here to St Petersburg. Unfortunately, Prince Naryshky was staying at the same inn and we made his acquaintance.
He was to have remained in Stockholm, but to our dismay he has also returned to St Petersburg, and he knows about that night in the inn. He has displayed considerable interest in us, so much so that he wishes to attend our marriage, and he went so far as to meet our ship at Kronstadt and convey us here on his schooner. Our luggage is still on the other vessel and will not arrive until much later today.

‘Mr Clearwell, that is why I fear that Alison has already been gravely compromised, and now that Mrs Fairfax-Gunn is here and has made it clear not only that does she guess there is something going on but also that she intends by hook or by crook to gain an introduction to the prince, you must see that the situation is quite impossible. You must permit me to marry your niece, sir, and to do so without any delay at all; otherwise, her name will be bandied over St Petersburg and then over London as well. I wish to do all in my power to protect her from that.'

Alison still gazed into the heart of the fire. It was fact, and yet it wasn't; it was the truth with a clever sprinkling of untruths here and there.

Her uncle exhaled slowly. ‘You haven't behaved prudently, have you? If your conduct in England had been what it should be, none of this would have arisen.'

‘On that count I'm to blame,' Francis replied with a nod. ‘I wish it were not so.'

‘Before I say what I intend to do, I wish you to answer a question, my lord.'

‘Please ask it.'

Mr Clearwell rose slowly to his feet. ‘It concerns the existence of a prior arrangement between you and Lady Pamela Linsey, the
daughter
of the Duke of Marchington.'

Francis paused for a moment. ‘I didn't know you knew about that, sir.'

‘I know of it because William mentioned it in his last letter. Knowing my son as I do, I can read between the lines and guess that he too is enamoured of that particular lady.'

‘Yes, sir, he does.'

Alison looked up quickly. So he did know about William and Pamela.

Francis spoke again. ‘Mr Clearwell, if the truth be known, Lady Pamela regrets having allowed her parents to separate her from your son. The Duke of Marchington wished her to marry someone with a title, and William wasn't considered to be suitable enough. She's fond of me, as I am of her, but we don't love each other. She loves your son, and I love your niece.'

Alison stared at him. How could he say such a thing! Pamela loved him and he loved her, and if his other untruths could be justified, this one couldn't.

Her uncle pursed his lips. ‘Well, that may or may not be so, my lord, but what I need to know is whether or not you are free to many Alison. Was there a binding agreement between you and Lady Pamela?'

‘The betrothal was to have taken place in July, sir, but there is no longer any question that it will still take place. My dealings with Lady Pamela will in future be those of a friend, not a suitor.'

‘I see. Do I have your word upon that?'

‘You do, sir.'

Mr Clearwell nodded. ‘Very well, you have my consent. Indeed, I have no real option if I wish to act as my brother would. Alison must be shielded from any odium or gossip, and that has to be my prime consideration. I have to tell you, sir, that if you hadn't expressed a desire to do the right thing by her, I would have insisted that you did.'