Stroke of Midnight (34 page)

A soft tapping sounded on the door of the bedchamber. Surprised to hear Winifred’s knock so early, Laura pushed up onto her elbow. The moment she sat upright, a cold clammy sensation enveloped her.

Nausea rushed into her throat. She barely reached the chamber pot in time. As she finished retching, the swift patter of her maid’s footsteps approached.

“Oh, my poor lady.”

Laura soon found herself helped back into bed, lying back against the pillows with a cool damp cloth pressed to her brow. The awful queasiness had subsided, though she still felt shaky.

“I’ll tell the kitchen not to send your usual breakfast,” Winifred said as she straightened the bedclothes. “Tea and dry toast will settle your stomach. And never fear, such a reaction is quite ordinary during the first few months, generally upon arising in the morning.”

“You know that I’m…?”

Winifred’s plain features held a wise smile. “I’m the eldest of twelve, my lady. I often helped my mother in this very situation. Now, do rest while I go see about your tray. And pray don’t fret, there will be ample time for you to ready yourself.” With a twitch of her gray skirt, the maidservant vanished out the door.

Laura blinked to clear the haze from her thoughts. Ready herself? Where would she be going so early?

In the distance, church bells began to clang, the joyful sound joined by other bells, and she realized with a start that it was Coronation Day. In all the upheaval, she had forgotten. London had been abuzz for the past few weeks with parties and celebrations, the streets crowded as citizens from outlying provinces poured into the city.

Only yesterday the revelry and merrymaking had filled her with excitement. Tonight there would be many balls to attend, with everyone in their jeweled finery. The crowning of nineteen-year-old Queen Victoria was truly the event of a lifetime.

Nevertheless, Laura felt an enormous temptation to burrow into the feather bed and sleep for at least a month. She closed her eyes. The very notion of donning her elaborate court gown was exhausting.

Some minutes later, the click of an opening door invaded her drowsy state. She looked over in bemusement as a grandly costumed gentleman swept into the bedchamber.

It took half a second for her to recognize him. “Alex?”

She lifted her head, but he quickly came to her side and commanded, “Lie back, please. There’s no need for you to arise yet.”

Swallowing a twinge of nausea, Laura complied without argument. How horrid if she were to be sick all over his coronation robes. She wouldn’t tell him so, but he looked glorious in the formal black coat adorned with medals, the white waistcoat and trousers, the spotless kid gloves. From a fastening at his throat fell a full-length crimson mantle lined in white silk with an ermine cape. At his side hung a dress sword in a gold scabbard attached to a crimson sash around his waist.

Gazing up at him, she felt strangely tongue-tied in the face of his lordly splendor. Their quarrel hung between them, too, the hurt of his lies and the awful knowledge that he had courted her for his own clandestine purpose.

“Your maid thought I should look in on you,” Alex said. “I understand you’re ill this morning.”

He was frowning slightly, his expression detached and remote, as if they were strangers instead of husband and wife. Was this to be their life henceforth? This frosty politeness?

Laura wouldn’t succumb to the aching sorrow in her chest. She would have to learn to be just as unaffected as he was.

Her fingers gripping the covers, she managed a wooden smile. “I’m better now. Apparently, it’s perfectly natural for a woman in my condition. I haven’t told you, Alex, but…” The words caught in her throat. An indifferent tone of voice was not the way she’d envisioned relating such momentous news.

“You’re to bear my child. I stopped by the physician’s office late yesterday and he told me.” Alex bent down to brush his gloved fingers over her cheek. “Laura,” he said gruffly. “Will you allow me to say how very pleased I am?”

They stared at each other, and the chilly mask slipped from his face. His dark eyes came alive with a powerful intensity. The anger and hurt and bitterness fell away, and in spite of all that had happened, Laura felt the rise of hope that he truly cared for her. She yearned for him to pull her into his arms, to hold her close and whisper loving words. Her foolish heart believed that he wanted to do so.

But how could she trust herself to know his thoughts? Perhaps all he felt was exultation that he’d accomplished the purpose of this marriage. Perhaps he was merely reflecting on the heir she might give him in nine months.

The door opened, and Winifred entered with a silver tray. She stopped on seeing them and bobbed a curtsy. “Do pardon me, my lord. I’ll just leave my lady’s tea and toast on the table for now.”

“You needn’t go,” Laura said, lifting her head slightly from the pillow. “My husband shall be departing very soon since he’s riding in the procession.”

“If you’re sure you’re all right,” Alex said.

“I told you, I’m perfectly fine.”

At her cool tone, that closed expression came over his face again and he stepped back. It somehow seemed important not to let him view her as an invalid, so Laura sat up in bed. Much to her chagrin, however, the nausea once again rose in her throat.

This time, she managed to control it by taking shallow breaths. But her skin felt clammy and it was impossible to hide her shaky discomfort from him.

Winifred appeared at the bedside with a porcelain cup. “Here, my lady. It’s plain tea, nothing that should upset you.”

The maid held the cup to Laura’s lips. She took a small sip, then another. While the heat of it felt soothing, the tea only marginally improved her stomach. But it was enough so that after a moment she could hold the cup herself. With her cold fingers wrapped around its warmth, she looked up to find Alex watching her with a frown.

“You’re going nowhere,” he stated. “You’re to stay home in bed.”

“But I can’t possibly! Your aunt is counting on me to take her to the coronation.”

The plan had been settled weeks ago. With Alex required to take his place among the peers, Laura was to escort Lady Josephine to Westminster Abbey and sit in the transept with the other ladies. To miss such a momentous event was unthinkable—even in her present state.

Alex appeared unmoved by her plea. “The church will be stifling and extremely crowded. You’d be arriving hours before the ceremony even begins. I’ll not have you suffer through such a long service. Aunt Josie, I’m sure, would agree with me.”

Laura parted her lips to protest, then thought better of it. Who was she fooling? Nothing sounded less appealing than the notion of being squashed into a pew for hours, unable to breathe from a tightly laced corset, and feeling miserably sick to her stomach.

Yet as Alex turned to go, a sense of desolation settled over her. In spite of their quarrel, she felt a craving for her husband to come to the bed and tenderly kiss her good-bye.

But he didn’t. Alex merely gave her a cool nod. Then, in a whirl of rich crimson robes, he vanished through the connecting door.

Chapter 28

Her hands braced on the stone sill, Laura leaned out an open window of a guest bedchamber on the second floor. From this high vantage point, she caught a glimpse of the approaching procession in the distance. Unfortunately, Copley House was not situated directly on the coronation route, and the view also was obstructed by the leafy trees of Hyde Park.

Nevertheless, the far-off roar of the throngs caused a quivering sense of anticipation in her. Only minutes ago, at ten o’clock, the distant crack of gunfire had announced the queen’s departure from Kensington Palace. Now the long line of riders and vehicles proceeded slowly in the direction of Pall Mall on the route to Westminster Abbey.

“I do wish you had a better view, my lady,” Winifred said from her stance at another window. “It seems such a pity for you to miss everything now that you’re much improved!”

After breakfasting on tea and toast, Laura had felt so out of sorts that she’d taken refuge in slumber, only to awaken two hours later refreshed and alert, the nausea completely gone. Her misery forgotten, she had dressed quickly and come to the front of the house, drawn by the palpable excitement of the moment.

“I should much rather count my blessings than complain,” Laura said with a smile. “Besides, it would be impossible to squeeze a carriage through the crowds just now. I’ve never in my life seen so many people.”

Vast masses packed the parade route and waited for the state coach that conveyed Queen Victoria. Latecomers darted down the street in front of the house, heading toward the south side of the park. People waved hats and scarves and Union Jacks. Shouts and cheers reverberated through the air.

“Oh, isn’t it grand?” Winifred said with a happy sigh. “How lovely it would to see the queen herself, if only we were nearer. I’ve a sister in service two streets over who will be enjoying a much better view, I’m sure!”

Laura enjoyed the spectacle of her normally reserved maid looking so animated. “Why don’t you go there right now, then?” she suggested. “If you hurry, perhaps you’ll catch a glimpse of Her Majesty’s coach.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t leave you, my lady.”

“Yes, you most certainly can. I’m perfectly well now, and I insist that you go. Now, don’t waste time gainsaying me. Just make haste at once!”

Her gray eyes aglow with excitement, Winifred bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, my lady,” she said fervently. “I promise to return within the hour with a full report.”

As the servant rushed out of the bedchamber, Laura returned her attention to the approaching parade. Now she could see tiny moving vehicles through the trees and the glint of gilding on the coaches. Alex would be riding down there somewhere in the procession.

Her vibrant spirits dimmed at the memory of their quarrel. Only twenty-four hours ago, she had believed he harbored a tender affection for her. She had been hopeful that in time he would come to love her, if he didn’t already. But the discovery of his deception had changed all that. It had awakened her to the cold, hard fact that he had used her in order to entrap her father.

He’d claimed an obligation to help his godmother. But how could he justify deceiving a young girl and breaking her heart? What did that say of his character?

A discreet rapping made her turn around. A footman holding a silver salver stood in the open doorway. “Do pardon me, my lady. A message has arrived for you. I was told that it was urgent.”

Puzzled, Laura stepped forward to take the note from the tray. She broke the red wax seal and unfolded the paper to scan the spidery penmanship.

My Lady Copley—

I fear to relay the Dreadful News that Lady Josephine has gone missing. I Beg of You to come at once. I know of No One else to whom I might turn.

Respectfully Yrs,

Mrs. Samson

*   *   *

Deafening cheers echoed outside Westminster Abbey, while inside, a twittering of excitement buzzed from those lucky enough to have received an invitation to sit in the cathedral. A few moments ago, the firing of the guns had announced the arrival of the procession. The glittering assembly had yet to view their queen in all her raiment, for she had proceeded directly to the robing chamber near the entrance. There, she would don a long crimson mantle and prepare for her walk up the aisle to the throne.

As Alex went to take his place with the other peers in the transept, his gaze veered to the empty seat among the peeresses where Laura should have been sitting. He wished desperately to be home with her. How was she feeling? Had she overcome her illness? Nothing could have struck him harder than seeing her wan features—and knowing that she despised him too much to allow him to take her into his arms.

Except for one brief moment, when he had spoken of their baby, she had been cold toward him. No love had glowed in her eyes. She hadn’t forgiven him for committing the cardinal sin of using her to investigate her father. He couldn’t bear it if she never forgave him …

“Is it too much to hope that your wife has abandoned you?”

The feminine whisper in his ear startled Alex. Arrayed in an elaborate white satin gown, Evelyn stood close beside him. Diamonds glinted in her auburn hair and at her throat and ears.

“What are doing?” he muttered. “Go back to your seat.”

“In a moment.” She sidled closer, her bosom artfully brushing his arm. “I heard you came to call yesterday evening. What a pity I was out. Had I been home, I would have been more than happy to receive you.”

Alex frowned at her. He’d been so caught up in anxiety about Laura that it took a moment to remember his concentrated efforts the previous day to uncover something—anything—that might exonerate her father. He’d gone to interview Constable Pangborn, only to learn that the officer had resigned abruptly from the police force two days earlier. Alex then had tried Pangborn’s rooming house in Lambeth, but the man had absconded without paying his rent.

Pangborn had disappeared without a trace.

The peculiar circumstance had increased Alex’s fear and frustration. Unable to shake the uneasy sense that Laura wasn’t safe, he had visited Evelyn’s house to question her. But Evelyn, apparently, had assumed his call to be evidence of a romantic interest in her.

He should fob her off until a more judicious time, but decided instead to take advantage of the few minutes before the queen made her entrance at the back of the church. With the hum of people talking everywhere, no one should take notice of them.

He bent his head to Evelyn. “You called on Laura the day before she and her father fled the country. I want to know why.”

She stared blankly. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Just answer.”

“That was ten years ago. Why do you ask? Don’t tell me you believe her vile accusations against my father.”

Alex glanced behind him. The Marquess of Haversham stood a short distance away, deep in conversation with the Bishop of Durham.

He returned his attention to Evelyn. “All I want is to clarify a few facts. You must have had a reason to call on Laura that day in advance of normal visiting times. The two of you were hardly the best of friends. Tell me why you went there alone to see her.”