Masquerading the Marquess (13 page)

"Gentlemen, it has been a lovely time, but I am wanted elsewhere. I bid you adieu."

Deirdre blew kisses to her court and hurried to Calliope.

She sent a questioning look but said nothing. Without a word, Angelford offered an arm to each lady.

It seemed to take an eternity to reach the coach and Calliope tried to steady her shaking hand, which was still draped on Angelford’s arm.

He handed them into the carriage. "Have a pleasant night, ladies. I will speak with you soon.
" His
smooth brandy voice washed over Calliope. He bowed and motioned to the driver.

Deirdre sent her another questioning glance, but kept silent as the coach began moving. They encountered no traffic; the majority of guests had elected to remain until the unveiling.

"What’s wrong, Callie? What were you doing with Angelford?"

Calliope shook her head. "I don’t know,
Dee
. I don’t know. I need to think for a minute."

She looked out the window and saw the black-garbed figure standing on the steps watching the carriage leave. She watched him until they turned the corner and he passed from her vision. A shiver coursed through her.

"
Dee
, do you think you could stay with me tonight?"

Deirdre looked concerned. "Yes, of course, I will send a note so our parents won’t be worried."

Calliope nodded and nestled into the cushions, trying to relax.

Who was the man in the maze? Why had he accosted her? Where was Stephen?

Angelford had saved her from the attacker. She remembered leaning into his warm chest. Her traitorous body had accepted his help. She was beholden to him.

Questions swirled through her mind and collided with intense emotions.

The following morning Deirdre was still attempting to coax answers from her.

"Callie, come home with me. I don’t know why you won’t tell me what happened last night, but something is obviously wrong." Deirdre looked tired and concerned. "I’m worried about you. And why didn’t Stephen show up? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind next time I see him."

"He must have been detained.
Dee
, I promise to come by later. There are a few things I need to tend first."

She nudged Deirdre out the door after promising to drop by the family’s house. Less than fifteen minutes after Deirdre left, there was a knock at the front door. Calliope looked up as Grimmond walked in.

"Miss, there is a note for you. It was left willy-nilly on the front stoop." A stickler for convention, disapproval laced his voice.

Calliope opened the card as Grimmond walked back out. Sweat broke across her brow and a cold pulse emanated up her body, halting her heart for a beat.

If you wish your family to remain unharmed, you will deliver the item we seek, the Adelphi is such a lovely theater. It would be a shame, Callie, dear . . .

The letter was unsigned.

Calliope scrawled on a piece of Stephen’s stationery, pocketed the threatening note, threw on her pelisse and ran out the door and into the street.

It took a few precious minutes, but she finally managed to catch a hackney. She needed answers and needed them quickly. Only one person seemed to know more about the situation than she. She gave the driver the address and sped off toward the devil’s den.

The short trip seemed to take an hour. The driver pulled in front of the huge estate on St. James’s Street. She paid the fare and hopped to the ground. She grimaced as she landed on her bad leg.
Too late for a cane now.

The hackney took off down the street and she regretted not asking the driver to wait. She looked at the imposing Palladian structure. It epitomized everything she despised. She was alone.

Calliope climbed the stairs and walked nervously to the large door. She took a deep breath and rapped.

A white-haired butler opened the door.

She straightened her shoulders. "I am here to see the Marquess of Angelford. It is a matter of the utmost urgency.
" She
handed him the hastily composed note she had written.

The butler examined the stationery and then surveyed her once again, obviously noting the absence of a coach and attendant. In order to gain time, she had eschewed both. She held her breath; he might refuse her admittance. There was some relief in the thought he might bar her access, but the situation required entry. She lifted her chin and thought,
I belong here,
a technique she used when preparing for her roles and employing one of her many guises.

He opened the door, reluctantly allowing her into the front hall. "Please wait here."

The main hall had three connecting passages. He strode down the one on the left.

As his footsteps echoed in the hallway, she glanced toward the ceiling, reluctantly impressed. The high ceiling and gorgeous banister dominated the entryway. The ceiling was hand-painted with angelic images depicting the heavens.

A curved staircase flowed down and to the right, a small hallway underneath on the left. Intricate marble tiles were arranged artfully in the floor and stairs. A beautiful Aubusson runner curved up the middle of the staircase, and its cousin lay horizontally on the floor. A regal portrait hung on the wall under the curved staircase, and a small Queen Anne desk sat beneath.

The entire scene screamed wealth, and she again experienced the urge to flee.

The butler returned just as she gained control and motioned to her. "Follow me."

She relinquished her pelisse and followed him down the left hall.

James fingered the note and waited.

Templeton, his butler, opened the door.
"The stranger on the step, my lord."
He then disappeared from view.

James saw her give his butler a disgruntled look before entering the room.

A glance at her disheveled state had him instantly aroused. She looked as if she had just stepped out of bed, thrown on the first thing she could find and then rushed to meet him. Honey-colored hair dripped down her shoulders and a simple lavender morning dress clung to her frame. Satisfaction flowed through him.

She broke his train of thought. "I know my presence is unconventional, but I need information quickly
. "
She gave a tight shrug and moved a bit farther into the room.

He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. She hesitated before slipping into it. "Thank you."

He sat behind his desk, leaned back in the chair, steepled his fingers and waited.

Her brow furrowed, but she said in a rush, "Why did you appear two nights ago? Where is Stephen? Who was the man who attacked me last night? And why is someone sending me threatening notes?"

James dropped his hands and leaned forward. "Threatening notes?"

She hesitated. "I received one this morning. They threatened my family."

He held out his hand. "Let me see it."

She shook her head, and he saw her finger her left pocket. "No, it has personal information. There is no need for you to see it. Suffice to say the note tells me to give them an item or else."

"Do you have this item?"

"I don’t know. I don’t know what the item is."

"Then why are you here?"

She visibly bristled. "Because you seem to be on my heels the past two days and I believe you are somehow involved in this situation."

"What makes you say that?"

He said it in a nonchalant way and expected her anger. He was not disappointed.

"Forgive me. I’m wasting my time here. Good day, my lord."

"Sit down, Miss Stafford," James ordered in the steely tone that generally caused people to do his bidding.

She turned toward him, a shocked look on her face. "What did you call me?"

He couldn’t tamp down the sardonic smile as he gestured toward her. "You forgot to not be yourself today."

·

A horrified look crossed her face as she grasped at her hair with one hand and her cheek with the other.

"Sit down
. "

She obeyed this time, but he thought it more from the shock than anything else.

"I have known your identity for quite some time. But I am curious: What turned you from lady’s companion to courtesan, Miss Stafford? Surely you were not that down on your luck?"

Her initial shock had obviously subsided somewhat because she shot him an even nastier look than before. She gazed around the room’s elegant furnishings. "I doubt someone such as
yourself
would understand what the peasants of this world have to go through on a daily basis. Please, don’t lower my opinion of you any more by asking such inane questions."

His temper flared. "You are a silly girl. I doubt you know what true hardship is."

She seemed to withdraw and sat staring mutely ahead.

He tried to rein in his temper. He had magnificent self-control. Everyone knew it. Why did she always incite him?

He said in a more reasonable tone, "If you want my help, I need to see the note."

She continued to stare at him, not speaking.

"You are involved in a dangerous matter. Give me the damn note."

Her eyes flashed. "I don’t want your help. I want answers."

"Sorry, Margaret, you cannot have one without the other."

From the look she was now giving him he wouldn’t have been surprised if she launched herself across the desk, fingernails aimed toward his eyes.

"First, I have not given you permission to call me Margaret. Second, you can go to hell, my lord." She grated the
" my
lord" between her teeth and he wondered if she might choke on it.

As she rose, her deep blue eyes flashed in rage. "Good day,
my lord
."

She turned her back on him and started for the door, wobbling for a second before gaining her footing. James was around the desk in a flash. He firmly took her left arm and escorted her to the door of the study, ignoring her angry gasp. He let go at the door, allowing her to find her own way out.

James pulled the cord moments after she stalked out of the
room,
and Templeton’s face appeared in the doorway scant seconds later. He must have run.

"Have one of the footmen follow the lady and report back to me."

Templeton nodded and closed the door behind him.

James leaned against his desk. He had handled that poorly. Women usually fell over themselves trying vainly to please him. It was quite a novel experience to find one so disagreeable. She hadn’t softened any since their first meeting.

Actually she had felt remarkably soft leaning into him last night. James shook his head.

He had been unable to glean any hard information from last night’s attacker. After putting the ladies in the coach, he had returned to the maze to interrogate the hoodlum and relieve a bit of frustration. The man admitted under duress that he had been hired by a bloke to do a few jobs. He had received money to scare the girl and inquire about an object. When given the job he had not asked any questions.