Once Upon a Scandal (10 page)

“You look a little pale, my dear,” Lady Marchmain said, eyeing them both candidly. “I know just the thing for it.” Turning to Maybanks, she formed one hand into something resembling a glass and made a drinking motion. With an adoring smile, the butler nodded and turned away. “He’s off for the brandy then.”

• • •

Leaning against the window frame, Benjamin watched as Jane nursed her brandy, seemingly lost in thought. They were once more in his study, a reprieve from the bustle of the hall, and he could not miss the faint look of worry she wore. He wished he could reassure her, tell her all would be well. He had the utmost faith in her abilities. But he could not, in truth, predict how any of this would end. And he needed to return to London. Already, the final weeks of the Season were upon them. Society would thin out as families left the heat of the city, and he needed to spread the news of Lillianne’s impending arrival. Bait for a hook, as it were. Or, in this case, bait for a traitor.

“We shall miss you quite desperately, Benjamin,” Sophia said as she poured herself a second measure of brandy. “Rest assured, though, we’ll be hard at work. I’ve no doubt Jane will be a quick study.”

“I share your confidence, of course,” he said as Jane looked up, offering him a brave smile she seemed far from feeling. “But I’d like to emphasize several things before I depart.” He moved from the window to take the seat beside her. “As we’ve discussed, Lady Marchmain will oversee some changes to your appearance. There will be a new hairstyle, of course … ”

“And very discreet cosmetics,” Sophia added between sips.

“A new wardrobe is already on its way from Paris,” he continued. “And while I expect alterations will need to be made, Oakley is remarkably talented with a needle. She’ll make quick work of any changes.”

“A Parisian wardrobe?” Jane asked, setting aside her brandy. “However did you manage that?”

“We have a relationship with the leading modiste there.” He had little doubt that in LeRoy’s designs, she would look very French and very beautiful. He would have to be on guard against the effect.

“Come now, Benjamin,” Sophia admonished. She’d taken his place at the window. “Tell Jane how you managed it.”

“The contact was made through my chef, Pierre,” he said. “Monsieur LeRoy has a famous shop on the Rue Richelieu, and by all accounts, he’s an unpleasant man and a terrible snob. He is also a close confidante of the Empress Josephine, however, and once told Napoleon he didn’t spend enough money on his wife’s clothes.”

Jane chuckled beside him, her eyes bright with amusement. “That seems foolish, given what you’ve told me about the emperor.”

“Undoubtedly, but LeRoy is apparently a genius. He dresses the entire French court, where no one is allowed to wear the same ensemble twice. His seamstresses work around the clock.”

“And one of them has secreted out an entire wardrobe?” Jane asked, clearly impressed.

“Packed up with Monsieur LeRoy’s blessing. He’s never forgiven Napoleon for divorcing Josephine in order to marry Marie-Louise of Austria. So he sent word, though our channels, that a particularly large order had been placed by someone in the new empress’s inner circle. As long as he’s paid for his work, he’s happy to claim it’s gone missing.”

“Leaving Marie-Louise short of one of her ladies in waiting,” Sophia interrupted, smiling broadly. “A rather delicious revenge, don’t you think? And according to LeRoy, your sizes match up perfectly.”

“You’ve thought of everything, it seems.” Jane was looking down at her hands, knotted in her lap. “And you’ve gone to such expense. I hope I can carry off my part in all this.”

She was far more mercurial than he would ever have guessed, emotions flitting across a face he’d once considered impassive. Why had she hidden so much of herself from the world? “Here is the important part to remember,” he said, resisting the urge to pull her hands into his own. “People will still think of Jane Fitzsimmons whenever they see you as Lillianne. We can’t change that. Therefore, the way you act will be the thing that sells the ruse. From your personality to your mannerisms to the way you carry yourself—all must be demonstrably different.”

“I think I can manage it.” But she looked overwhelmed. And it suddenly seemed a crime to change anything about her when he admired her far too much the way she was. Not that he could ever act upon it or tell her why, if it ever came to that.

“Even the smallest things will help,” he said gently. “Smiling more often and letting people hear you laugh. Drawing attention to yourself. Being inappropriate on occasion.”

“Did I really have such a dour reputation?”

“Perhaps I am overstating things. I only know that while in Society, you rarely laughed or smiled around me.” It had frustrated him to no end.

“That’s because in our previous interactions, you always did your best to annoy me. You were an outrageous flirt.”

“Never that, Jane,” he said with a quick smile. “But you were always so serious and, thus, a temptation I could not resist. I wanted to unbend you a little.”

“Really?” She looked genuinely surprised. “I’ve never considered myself a tempting sort.”

If only she knew. “So says the most dangerous kind of woman. No doubt Eve told Adam the same thing before he fell.” A light cough sounded, reminding him that the countess was still in the room.

“Well,” Sophia said after a long moment spent watching them carefully. “Quite a friendship seems to have grown up between you. I’m happy to see it.”

Friendship. He could better live with himself if that was the right word. But would a friend spend hours thinking about the way she pulled her lower lip into her mouth when she was nervous? The sway of her hips as she moved? The curve of her cheek when she smiled? Those were just a few of the many reasons he needed to return to London. And quickly.

Dress with decency and moderation. Never aspire above your state, so as to hinder or preclude works of mercy.—
Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women

“Such a handsome one, that Marworth,” Lady Marchmain declared later, as they stood in the cobbled courtyard outside of Painshill’s manor house, watching Benjamin and his horse fade into the distance. He’d elected to ride ahead of his carriage, obviously eager to depart. “The journey here from Nuneaton was unspeakably tedious. But the chance to admire him has brightened my day considerably.”

Nuneaton. Caught up in all that had transpired over the past few weeks, Jane had nearly forgotten. “How are Alec and Annabelle?” she asked as they turned towards the house. “Has the baby been born safely?” How could she not have asked sooner?

“Baby Gareth is nearly a month old, a beautiful creature, as one would expect, given his parents. And a great comfort to them at this difficult time.”

“Is anything wrong?” Childbirth was fraught with complications, yet surely a month was enough time to see Annabelle past any danger?

“They are mourning your loss, of course. Heroic though it was, the news of it has left both of them quite distraught. They don’t know you are more than fine, safely ensconced in an estate in Surrey.”

Nor could she tell them, Jane realized with numbing finality as they ascended the broad stairs leading to the manor and crossed through the doorway. “I’m afraid I didn’t consider I might be missed, that I might hurt those I care for.”

Sophia stopped. “Marworth hasn’t told me the whole of this, and truthfully, it is better that way. I only know you’ve agreed to help recover critically important information. And that you made a very difficult decision in order to do so.”

“At the time, I didn’t think I had another choice, but I was wrong.” She would not give in to this urge to sag under the enormity of what she’d done. “I was blinded by my desire for a new start. The chance, if you will, to escape from myself.”

“We are not so different, you and I,” the countess said gently. “When my first husband, the Marques de Vallado, died prematurely, I found myself alone in Spain, with no one to turn to. I’d alienated my family when I married him.”

“But surely they’d have welcomed you back to England?”

“Perhaps, but I had no interest in being bound up once more by the strictures of Society. Like you, there was no going back, only forward.”

“If only I had a clearer sense of what lies ahead and where it might lead me.”

“Therein lies the adventure, my dear. My way forward led me to Capri, to my darling Stephano. And when he died, it led me to Paris just before Bonaparte took control in the coup of 18 Brumaire. Already, tensions were mounting with Britain, and I saw an opportunity to be useful.”

“With a coup underway, I’d have been on the first boat back to England.”

“I doubt that, Jane. You, too, would have recognized the chance to work for a greater cause. I’d already drawn the eyes of several men in the new consulate, you see. Bonaparte himself had made overtures. And it would have been a shame not to use that interest to my country’s advantage.”

Her mind stumbled over the implications as she gasped. “You had a liaison with Napoleon Bonaparte?” How naïve she must sound.

But Lady Marchmain merely laughed. “No, my dear, I did not. He’s an odious little toad, no higher than my shoulder. But he’s susceptible to flattery, like most men in positions of power. They welcome the chance to talk about themselves and the things they do. The trick is knowing what to listen for. And that is one of the things I’m here to help teach you.”

“Benjamin believes my notoriety as Jane’s cousin will help me attract the interest of a possible traitor. But I’ve never been very good at holding a man’s attention.” She had five Seasons behind her to prove it.

“Lucky then, that you have an expert to show you how.”

• • •

Becoming someone else was harder than she’d expected, because for all her breezy airs, Sophia Middleton was a demanding taskmaster. At least an hour each morning was spent studying French customs and culture. Another hour was spent speaking the language with Pierre, Marworth’s talented chef, because while Jane was fluent, she’d needed to brush up on colloquialisms to make her speech more natural. Somehow, several recent copies of
Le Moniteur
, the most popular news-sheet in Paris, had made their way to Painshill, and she scanned them for the city’s political and social intrigues. She studied maps and landmarks, not to mention the most popular shops and meeting places. No detail was too small to overlook.

It helped she’d had an early foundation in the culture. Mother had been inordinately proud of her French heritage and had spent many long hours teaching Jane the history of her native land. Father, in turn, had responded by inundating her with information about all things British—from the nation’s history to the intricacies of its legislative system, in which he’d gloried. Because there’d been no such thing as a common ground between her parents. The war in her home had been as real as the one being fought across the Channel.

But she would not think of it now. Better to be thankful she’d always been a quick study. Both sets of lessons had come easily, and they were serving her well in her work with Sophia. Far more challenging were the lessons focusing on her behavior, the ways she moved and spoke. As both Benjamin and Sophia had stressed, these changes would make the most difference. Hundreds of people—from paupers to the prince—had witnessed her death in the murky waters of the Thames. She must do nothing to make them doubt their own eyes.

“Try again, my dear,” Sophia urged from the settee in the drawing room. “Remember, every movement must be made more languid. You are a sophisticated woman of the continent.”

For the tenth time, she walked from the doorway to the chair beside Sophia’s, focusing on the slow sway of her hips, which she matched to the flutter of the fan she carried. She allowed her eyes to carelessly sweep the room before settling on the countess and then inclined her head, as she’d been taught to do, using her fan to hide her frown.

She would never master this.

“Don’t look so grim. Let humor dance in your eyes. It will make the men wonder what you are thinking.”

“I am thinking I look ridiculous,” she replied, flopping into a silk-tufted chair.

“Not at all. You’ve improved immeasurably since the start. But be more aware of your charms. Have confidence in them! Nothing is more attractive in a room full of simpering Society misses. And we are trying to attract attention, after all.”

“I’m sure I’ve never simpered.” The very idea bordered on the offensive.

“No, you’re more likely to have argued politics, which is just as bad.”

“But I understand politics,” Jane said, not a little stung. It had been her father’s great passion, after all. “Can’t women offer their opinions on matters of national importance?”

“Of course, but a little subtlety is required in the way we present them. You must first appeal to a man’s masculinity. You must slip beneath his defenses if you want to learn his secrets. It’s what the art of flirtation is all about.”

“An art I’ve never understood.” She sighed. “It feels unnatural.”

“Nonsense, my dear. There’s nothing more natural in all the world. Our feminine attributes are God-given, and they are a source of tremendous power. You just haven’t been shown how to use them properly.”

“So the secret to capturing a man’s interest lies in the sway of my hips? That’s rather deflating.”

“There might be more to it than that,” Sophia said with a laugh. “But it’s not a bad place to start. Men are fascinated by the female body. Even the glimpse of an ankle can send them into raptures. Did you know Prince Talleyrand once wrote an ode to the arch of my left foot?”

Such an odd look of contentment had settled on Sophia’s face that Jane had to ask the question. “Had he ever seen your left foot?” Women hardly walked about in public without their slippers on.

“But of course! I’d balanced a cluster of grapes on its arch so he could nibble on the fruit.”

To that, Jane had no response. At least none to disguise how shocked she was. Sophia had said it so casually, as if such actions were as commonplace as leaves on the trees. Fruit and feet. Who could have guessed?