Lord Buckingham’s Bride (20 page)

‘To me, Aunt Natalia?'

‘Yes, my dear, because you were so very clever in taking those papers to Countess Irina. Now the French plot is foiled, the prince's vile treachery is revealed, and everything is going to be all right.'

‘Yes,' murmured Alison, ‘everything's going to be all right.'

‘The doctor examined you and said that although you struck your head very badly, you will soon be all well again. He has left some laudanum for you to take if you have a bad headache, but he doesn't think you will need it. As to your terrible experience at the prince's hands, he says the bruises and scratches will soon heal and you will not suffer any lasting distress.' Natalia squeezed her hand. ‘Soon you will marry Lord Buckingham, my dear, and you will know the
happiness 
you truly deserve after all this. I'm so sorry that I ever doubted that you loved him.'

Alison slowly drew her hand away, glancing at her uncle. ‘Where is Francis now, Uncle Thomas?'

‘At the embassy, but he'll be returning shortly to prepare to go to the Winter Palace. I know that you are invited as well, my dear, but perhaps you don't feel up to it…?'

‘Uncle Thomas, I don't intend to go to the Winter Palace with him, but I do intend to leave this house. I mean to return to England this afternoon with Captain Merryvale on the
Duchess of Clarence
.'

Her uncle stared at her, completely taken aback, and Natalia sat down on the bed with shock. It was Natalia who spoke first. ‘Return to England today? Oh, my dear, we won't hear of it, for you simply aren't well enough.'

‘Aunt Natalia, I mean to leave. My mind is made up.'

‘But what of Lord Buckingham and your marriage?'

‘There's isn't going to be a marriage, Aunt Natalia, for although I love him, he most certainly does not love me. He's marrying me because he feels obliged to, not because he wants me as his wife. He loves Lady Pamela Linsey, and I mean to do all I can to see that he still marries her.'

Startled, Natalia exchanged a glance with her husband and then looked at Alison again. ‘You're wrong, you know, for Lord Buckingham does love you.'

Alison shook her head. ‘I wish it were so, Aunt Natalia, but it isn't.'

Her uncle took her hand. ‘Are you quite set on this, my dear?' he asked gently.

‘Yes, Uncle, I am.'

‘You do understand the grave consequences such actions will have upon your reputation, don't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you are prepared to face that?'

Tears filled her eyes. ‘I have to face it, Uncle, because I love Francis too much to marry him. I know how dearly he wishes to make Pamela his wife, and that means that it would be very wrong indeed for me to accept his offer.'

Natalia rose concernedly. ‘We cannot permit her to leave like this,
Thomas, for we would be gravely failing in our duty.'

Mr Clearwell put an understanding hand on his wife's arm, but shook his head. ‘It will do no good to try to change her mind, my dear. I fear we have no sensible option but to let her go and to at least see that Katya accompanies her so that she doesn't travel alone. Please go and tell Katya, so that she has time to prepare.'

With a sigh Natalia gave in, but as she went to the door, she paused again. ‘Alison, I suppose you only mean to take some hand luggage with you? There is no time to pack everything else.'

‘Most of my things can follow later on, Aunt Natalia.'

‘Very well.'

‘Aunt Natalia?'

‘My dear?'

‘I'm truly sorry to cause you any further anxiety.'

Natalia smiled and then went out.

Alison's uncle bent to kiss her pale forehead. ‘I cannot approve of what you intend to do, my dear, but I do understand your motives, which are very noble, if misguided. I cannot believe that once he was married to you, Lord Buckingham's love for Lady Pamela would persist for long, if indeed he still loves her at all, but if your conscience weighs so very heavily upon you …'

‘It does, Uncle Thomas, for Pamela is my best friend.'

He nodded. ‘Then the matter is closed. Katya will go with you and Captain Merryvale will be charged with your safe-keeping. When you reach England you are to stay with William, is that clear? By complete coincidence a letter arrived from him this morning, and in it he tells me that his mother's aunt is staying with him for the rest of the summer, which means that she can act as your chaperone until your father returns. His great-aunt usually resides in Scotland, but a fire at her home means that she has unexpectedly foisted herself upon her favorite great-nephew. I've only met the lady concerned several times, many years ago, and she seemed agreeable enough, although,
according
to William, she has become a veritable dragon in her old age.'

Alison smiled. ‘I will do as you wish, Uncle Thomas.'

‘My dear, I don't think Lord Buckingham will receive your news at all well, for he is determined to do the right thing by you, whether or not he still loves Lady Pamela.'

She met his eyes. ‘I don't mean to tell him, Uncle. I mean to leave as soon as he has gone to the Winter Palace.'

‘Oh, Alison, my dear—'

‘It's the best way, Uncle Thomas. When he returns from the embassy in a little while, I would like you and Aunt Natalia to tell him that I'm all right but that I'm sleeping. Tell him that I'm really not up to accompanying him to the Winter Palace and that he must go alone. Then, when he's left, I will go to the
Duchess of Clarence
, which will have sailed by the time he returns. I know I'm asking you to be party to something of which you do not approve, but I wouldn't dream of making such a request unless I felt it was the best way.'

Her uncle sighed and nodded. ‘You really have given this some thought, haven't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘If you became Lady Buckingham, you'd be very happy, I know you would, and so would his lordship.'

‘No, Uncle.'

‘What if your aunt is right and he does love you?'

‘It isn't my name he whispers in his dreams,' Alison said quietly, turning her head away.

Her uncle said nothing more, but withdrew sadly from the room.

Alison closed her eyes, which stung with all the tears she had wept. She didn't weep now, though, for she had gone past crying. The complicated sequence of events that had commenced in Stockholm had come to an almost perfect ending; for the ending to have been absolutely perfect would require Francis and her to live happily ever after, but that could never be, not when his heart was given to Pamela.

Now she, Alison, had to at least try to make the ending perfect for one of them, and that meant telling Pamela the complete truth. Once the tale of all that had happened in Stockholm and here in St Petersburg reached London, it might never be possible to explain, and so she had to reach Pamela first. There was nothing more she could do.

A
s Alison lay there contemplating what her conscience dictated she must do, Francis was leaving the British embassy. Behind him there was jubilation at the satisfactory outcome of events,
especially
as not only had the czar been successfully warned of the danger around him, but also the identity of the French agent in the embassy had at last been discovered. The aide concerned, a gentleman who had been somewhat reticent about his mother's French origins, had immediately been bound hand and foot and conveyed across St Petersburg to the French embassy, on the steps of which he had been left like a rather ignominious parcel. Mr Gainsborough, a wickedly talented cartoonist when the spirit moved him, had drawn an extremely witty and derogatory lampoon of Bonaparte being kicked by John Bull, and this had been pinned to the unfortunate agent's coat. The fury with which both agent and cartoon would be received by the French ambassador could well be imagined and was the source of much sly British glee.

As Francis entered the Clearwell residence, however, his thoughts were not of the success of his mission or the imminent audience with the grateful czar, but of Alison, who had still been under examination by the doctor when he had felt obliged to report to the embassy.

He handed his hat and gloves to Mackay. ‘How is she?' he asked without ceremony.

‘Miss Clearwell is sleeping, my lord. The doctor assures us that she will soon be fully recovered and that she hasn't come to any lasting harm.'

‘He is confident of that?'

‘Most certainly, my lord.'

‘Thank you, Mackay.'

‘My lord.' The butler bowed and withdrew as Francis hurried up to the staircase to the grand salon, where he found Mr Clearwell studying the river through the telescope.

The older man straightened and turned as he entered. ‘Ah, you've returned to us, my lord.'

‘Mackay tells me that Alison will soon be well again.'

‘Assuredly so, my boy, for apart from the shock and stress of her ordeal, she has suffered no major injury. The bruises will soon be gone, and once she has rested …' Mr Clearwell's voice died away, for rest was the one thing Alison intended to deny herself; what rest could there be on an imminent voyage back to England?

Francis went to stand beside him, gazing out at the sunlit Neva. ‘I only hope that she will be able to forget what she suffered at
Naryshky's
foul hands.'

‘So do I, my boy, so do I,' agreed Mr Clearwell with feeling. ‘If you hadn't reached her when you did, I can hardly bear to think what would have happened to her.'

Francis' blue eyes were cold and hard. ‘I would have torn his monstrous heart out for what he did, but he was saved by the very czar he had been endeavoring to bring down.'

‘Saved? My dear sir, Naryshky's life is forfeit anyway, and perhaps it is better that the czar takes it than you.'

‘There would have been a certain grim satisfaction in having
extinguished
him personally, Mr Clearwell, for if you had seen her lying there in that cabin …' Francis swallowed, lowering his eyes for a moment. ‘I would give away my fortune for five minutes alone with him, and I wish to God I had squeezed the trigger when I had my pistol trained upon him.'

Mr Clearwell put a quick hand on his arm. ‘Your concern and anger do you credit, my lord.'

‘Concern and anger?' Francis gave a dry laugh. ‘Mr Clearwell, you seem surprised that I should express such emotions, and yet you know that I am about to marry her. Should a bridegroom not feel rage against the man who tried to violate his bride?'

Mr Clearwell was silent for a moment. He didn't know what to say,
for he knew that the marriage was no longer going to take place. Turning, he bent to look out of the telescope again. ‘I, er, see they've removed the
Irina
,' he murmured a little lamely.

Francis couldn't help but be conscious of the rather clumsy change of subject. ‘Is something wrong, sir? Is there something I should know?'

‘Everything is quite in order, my boy. Er, when will you be leaving for the Winter Palace?'

‘I'm just about to change into my court togs.'

‘You do realize that Alison will not be able to accompany you?'

Francis smiled a little. ‘I didn't expect that she would, sir.'

‘Er, no, of course not …' Mr Clearwell gave a slightly awkward laugh as he continued to apparently find the view through the
telescope
of the utmost fascination.

Francis looked curiously at him. ‘Mr Clearwell, are you quite sure that everything's all right?'

‘Mm? Oh, yes, quite all right,' murmured the older man. ‘Shouldn't you be putting on your finery?'

‘Yes, of course.' Francis bowed a little and then left him. At the door of the grand salon he paused, looking back at the figure by the telescope. Something was wrong. But what? With a long breath he went on out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Mr Clearwell straightened once more. His face was sad. If only he felt sure that he was right to support Alison now. Maybe Lord Buckingham did love Lady Pamela Linsey, but like Alison herself, he too had a conscience to salve, and that conscience bade him marry Alison in order to shield her from cruel gossip. Damn it, the fellow wanted the marriage – indeed, he seemed determined on it – and yet Alison's honor was going to deny him his wish.

Mr Clearwell lowered his eyes regretfully, for many marriages survived and succeeded on far less than existed between these two.

When he had changed into his court attire, Francis studied himself in the mirror in his dressing room. He disliked the popinjay garb that was
de rigueur
for all formal royal occasions. Why was it necessary to parade in fashions that were twenty years or more out of date? He loathed the leaf-green brocade coat with its abundance of silver
embroidery, for not only did it offend his taste for all that was discreetly stylish, but it also reminded him of an evening reticule once owned by his least favorite aunt. However, protocol demanded
antiquated
, glittering garb, and so here he was, done out in all that was required and about to set off for the meeting that until a few hours ago he had despaired of ever achieving. If it hadn't been for Alison … Alison. Turning, he snatched up his plumed hat and left the room, but instead of walking toward the staircase, he went the other way, toward Alison's room.

He knocked softly on the door. ‘Alison?'

There was no reply.

Quietly he opened the door and went inside. She lay asleep in the capacious bed, and there was no sign of Katya. He halted by the bedside, gazing down at her. Her silver-blond hair spilled over the pillows like the most costly of silk, and she didn't stir as he put his fingertips softly to her cheek. How pale she was, like a beautiful
slender
ghost. So different from Pamela, whose cheeks were always flushed with becoming color and whose dark loveliness was all that was fascinating and vivacious.

‘As unlike Pamela as it is possible to be,' he murmured, bending suddenly to kiss her on the forehead. Then he left, closing the door behind him.

As his footsteps died away, Alison opened her eyes. His words echoed painfully through her. She could never compare with the woman he loved, and if there had been any lingering doubt about what she must do, that doubt was now completely extinguished. She had to go back to England, to make Pamela understand the truth and to make her realize that she was the one who must become Lord Buckingham's bride, not Alison Clearwell.

Several minutes later she heard the carriage arrive for him, and then the whip cracked and the carriage drove away again, conveying Francis to the Winter Palace and out of Alison's life. The moment he had gone, she got out of bed and called for Katya, who came
immediately
.

The maid was excited at the prospect of going to England, so much so that in spite of her mistress's sad mood, she couldn't help
chattering
. Strangely, the maid's bubbling excitement was a comfort, for it
was a distraction. Alison had already decided upon which things she intended to take with her, and the necessary valises were soon packed. Katya's few belongings took up another valise, and it wasn't long before they were both ready to go to Vassily Island and the
Duchess of Clarence
.

A boatman had been engaged and was waiting at the jetty as Alison bade a tearful farewell to her uncle and step-aunt. Natalia was in tears as well and begged her at the eleventh hour to change her mind and stay. Natalia was quite convinced that Francis loved her, and she kept saying so, but Alison knew the truth, and knew that she was doing the right thing.

As she and Katya left, accompanied by two footmen with their luggage, a carriage drew up at the curb outside the house and a
familiar
figure in vermilion stepped down. Alison didn't halt or look back, but hastened on across the street toward the steps leading down to the jetty.

Mrs Fairfax-Gunn stared after her, her brown eyes alight with the scent of still more scandal as she noticed the luggage the footmen were carrying. Without further ado she hurried to the house, where Mr Clearwell and Natalia were still watching Alison.

‘My dear sir,' said the gossip eagerly, ‘is it possible that Miss Clearwell is suddenly leaving us?'

Natalia turned on her. ‘Oh, go away, you horrid trouble-maker, and take your clacking, spiteful tongue with you.'

Mrs Fairfax-Gunn took an involuntary step backward, almost toppling back down the steps; indeed, she would have done had not Mr Clearwell managed to seize her arm in time to save her. She was all of a fluster, for Natalia's attack had taken her quite by surprise. ‘Oh, dear! Oh, dear,' she squeaked breathlessly, overcome with
righteous
indignation that anyone should presume to speak so cruelly to her.

Natalia gave her a glance of utter contempt and then turned and stalked into the house.

Mrs Fairfax-Gunn gaped after her, for Natalia had always seemed so meek and kindly. But then the gossip's insect antennae began to quiver, for there was obviously yet another delicious scandal in the offing. Feigning an imminent attack of the vapors, she leaned heavily
on Mr Clearwell's arm. ‘Oh, I feel quite faint and fear I must sit down.' Her brown eyes moved toward the invitingly open door of the house.

Mr Clearwell was having none of it. ‘Then allow me to conduct you to your carriage, madam,' he murmured, propelling her
determinedly
down the steps.

‘Oh, but—'

‘Your carriage is most comfortable, Mrs Fairfax-Gunn.'

‘But—'

‘I'm sure you'll understand if I leave you, madam, but my wife is very distressed at the moment.'

Mrs Fairfax-Gunn drew herself up furiously. ‘Sir, I am much distressed at the moment as well,' she breathed, her bosom heaving like a vermilion sea.

‘Madam, I would not be concerned about you if you suddenly exploded,' he replied, ushering her into the carriage and then closing the door firmly behind her. He nodded at the astonished coachman. ‘Drive on, off the end of the quay, if you wish. Just go away from here.'

As the carriage drove smartly away, Mrs Fairfax-Gunn's face was flushed with fury. They wouldn't get away with this! She would see to it that every shocking detail of their niece's conduct with Lord Buckingham was broadcast over England with a bell. Alison Clearwell and her wretched family would rue the day they decided to snub Arabella Fairfax-Gunn. Oh, wouldn't they just!

As Francis was ushered into the presence of Alexander, fourteenth Romanov Czar of All the Russias, the
Duchess of Clarence
left her mooring at Vassily Island, moving downstream out of St Petersburg toward the Gulf of Finland. When his lengthy audience was over, he departed from the Winter Palace with the czar's praises and gratitude ringing in his ears, with Leon Razumov assured of the estate at Novgorod, and with the promise that the thoroughbred colt from the imperial stables would shortly be shipped to England. By this time, the
Duchess of Clarence
, a strong easterly breeze speeding her along, was already within sight of Kronstadt.

But Francis wasn't yet able to return to English Quay, for he was
summoned to another meeting, this time with Countess Irina, who wished not only to give him a pearl necklace for Alison, but also to advise him that in her opinion he would be very foolish indeed to allow Alison to slip through his fingers.

Francis stared at her. ‘Slip through my fingers? I'm afraid I don't understand.'

‘My lord, she doesn't intend to marry you, even though she loves you very much.'

He was very still. ‘There must be some misunderstanding.'

‘Oh, yes, my lord, there most certainly is, and you are the one who is doing it. She loves you, but she fears that you still love another, and she will therefore not wear your ring. Because of her, the czar I love is now safe and will continue to come to my arms; I would like to think that because of me, you will go to her arms. Forget that other woman, my lord, and make certain that Miss Clearwell becomes your countess, for you will never find another like her.

He looked into her lovely green eyes. ‘Are you quite sure she means not to marry me?'

‘Quite sure, my lord, for she told me herself.'

‘If you will forgive me, Countess, I believe I should return to English Quay without delay.'

‘I wish you well, my lord,' replied Irina, extending her hand and smiling at him.

But the
Duchess of Clarence
had long gone when at last Francis arrived back at the Clearwell residence, and as he entered the house and saw Mr Clearwell coming down the staircase to meet him, he knew that he was already too late, for there was an atmosphere that told him Alison was no longer there.