“No, my lady.”
“Ah, more’s the pity. A sweet girl like you should have a husband and lots of children.” Lady Josephine sighed wistfully. “Would that I might have borne a child for my darling Charles. ’Tis my only regret in life, though he always said he didn’t mind. Then he would declare that so long as we were together, he had everything he’d ever wanted.”
Laura’s heart melted. “He must have been a wonderful man.”
“Indeed, he was the kindest, most considerate of husbands. Oh, but you would never have guessed so when first we met. Such a dashing fellow he was back then, and a shameless flirt, the darling of all the ladies. I was the only one who would not put up with his nonsense, so of course he could not allow
that
. Have I ever told you the lengths he went to win my affections?”
Although she’d heard the story several times, Laura pretended ignorance. “Pray tell me.”
“One day he saw me in Hyde Park, fretting over a kitten that was stranded in the high branches of an oak. The poor thing was mewling most pitifully. Well, Charles climbed up that tree and rescued the little mite, tucking it inside his coat to keep it safe. But on the way down, the kitten clawed him and escaped down the tree trunk. Charles was so startled, he fell straight into a patch of shrubbery. Oh! I had a time scolding him. He might have broken his neck, I said.”
Laura held open the back door. From the lockbox of memory came the image of Alex standing upright on the back of a horse, riding around the stable yard, showing off with his arms outstretched like a carnival performer. A barking dog had startled the horse, Alex had tumbled off, and upon discerning he was unhurt, Laura had blistered him with rebukes. “One can scarcely blame you for being distressed, my lady.”
Her gnarled fingers wrapped around the cane, Lady Josephine shuffled down the three broad steps into the garden. “Oh, but I was not distressed for long! In the midst of my tirade, Charles pulled me down onto him, tickling me until I couldn’t help but laugh merrily. The scoundrel kissed me, too, so that I forgot aught else but him.” She was smiling, lost in the mists of time. “’Twas always like that with dear Charles. If ever we quarreled, I could never stay angry at him.”
As Laura assisted the elderly woman in navigating the uneven flagstones of the path, she didn’t want to reflect that Alex had dispelled her anger with a kiss, too … their first of many kisses. Instead, she marveled at the clarity of Lady Josephine’s recollections of the distant past. It seemed that only present-day events eluded her memory.
With a grateful sigh, the dowager settled her bulk onto a straight-backed wooden bench beneath a rose arbor. “You’re a dear to spend your morning with me,” she said. “There must be some way for me to repay your kindness.”
Laura propped the cane against the arbor, brushed a few pink petals off the seat, and sat down beside her. “It’s my pleasure to be here, truly it is.”
Lady Josephine went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Why, I’ve the very idea! I shall play matchmaker for you. I am not so ancient as to be unaware of the many eligible young gentlemen in society. My nephew perhaps.” That vague look entered her faded blue eyes. “At least I don’t
believe
he is married…”
The prospect alarmed Laura. The last state of affairs she needed was to have attention drawn to herself. “My lady, you mustn’t even
think
to do such a thing. It would be futile, anyway, for I am entirely without fortune to recommend me.”
“Bah, a man of wealth has no need of a marriage portion. He can be caught by a pretty face and a pleasing disposition, as Charles was with me.”
“Perhaps so, but I’ve really no need for a husband.”
“No need? Good gracious, child, the union between a man and his wife is the happiest state imaginable.” Teasingly, Lady Josephine shook a pudgy finger at Laura. “Mind you ignore those ladies who whisper that what happens in the marriage bed is distasteful. Quite the contrary, it is glorious! Why, I shall never forget my wedding night—”
“I’m sure it was lovely,” Laura said hastily, before the dowager could spill all the intimate details. “Didn’t you mention that you’d traveled to Italy for your honeymoon? Did you go to Venice?”
“Oh, yes, indeed! What an enchanting city with all the canals, the churches, the palazzos. And my word, we tramped over so many quaint little bridges that Charles and I both wore out several pairs of shoes.”
Having been successfully distracted, Lady Josephine continued to chatter for a while about the long-ago trip. Then, as was her custom in late morning, her eyelids drooped and her chin fell to her ample bosom. Soon she was fast asleep and snoring softly.
Plucking a wilted rose from the trellis, Laura idly brushed her fingers over the velvety pink petals. She acknowledged a wistful ache inside herself. Where would she herself be now if the jewel theft hadn’t altered her life forever? Would she have wed Alex? Their whirlwind romance
had
seemed headed for the altar …
Her lips compressed, she tossed the dead rose into the bushes. He had not been the man she’d believed him to be. Thank goodness she’d learned of his cruel nature before being bound to him by holy vows. She had purged him from her mind long ago, and the memories had crept back only because she’d had the ill luck to spy him on Regent Street.
Though perhaps, in a peculiar way, he’d done her a favor this time. By hiding in the coach, she’d met Lady Milford and secured this position. The series of providential events gratified Laura, for it seemed as if the fates were finally smiling upon her mission. Very soon, she would put into motion her plan to find out who had committed the robbery. Only then could she solve the mystery of her father’s death.
Unable to sit still any longer, she rose from the bench and took a stroll around the garden. Though somewhat neglected, it was a pleasant little retreat with ivy growing on the stone walls and pathways that meandered in between beds of overgrown herbs and flowering plants. In one corner, a pear tree had dropped a shower of white blossoms over a tangle of shrubbery. A wooden gate in the back led to the stables, where an old groom tended a pair of carriage horses kept for Lady Josephine’s barouchet.
Here and there, pansies lifted their yellow and purple faces to the sunshine. Laura did the same, enjoying the warmth of the spring day. How marvelous it felt to be out in the fresh air. Of late, she’d been cooped up inside too much, kept busy caring for Lady Josephine and stitching a new wardrobe for herself.
Lady Milford had been kind enough to arrange for a modest clothing allowance to be advanced from Laura’s wages, which had enabled her to visit the drapers. There, she had purchased materials to sew three daytime dresses and also a bolt of dark brown muslin sober enough for mourning yet suitable for an evening gown.
A few days ago, she had discovered a pile of unanswered invitations stuffed into a drawer of Lady Josephine’s writing desk. Many of them had been outdated, but others were new, and Laura had drafted several acceptance notes for her ladyship’s signature.
Tomorrow evening she would finally have the chance to accompany Lady Josephine to a ball. Knowing the aristocracy overlooked servants as if they were invisible, Laura hoped to have the freedom to listen in on conversations. Her first order of business would be to determine the whereabouts of several people who might have had a role in the disappearance of the Blue Moon diamond.
Laura had thought long and hard about two in particular. The need to uncover the truth burned in her. Since nothing could be done at the moment, however, she must keep herself occupied or go mad from impatience.
A clump of rhododendron bushes screened a small shed that was tucked against the wall. The door creaked open under a tug of her hand. Inside the dim interior, she found a rusty trowel and a pair of gardening gloves on a cobwebbed shelf. There was also a floppy straw hat, which she donned over her lace spinster’s cap, tying the ribbons under her chin.
Armed for gardening, she knelt down to tidy the flower beds. The spectacles kept slipping down her nose, so she stuck them into the pocket of her apron for the time being. As always, working with the soil had a calming influence on her. She pulled weeds and scraped away layers of dead leaves, gradually making her way down the length of the back fence. Every now and then, she glanced up to make certain that Lady Josephine still snoozed comfortably on the bench.
A thick mass of lily-of-the-valley covered one area, and she parted the glossy dark green leaves to find multiple stalks of tiny white bells. She would have to bring a sketch pad out here and see if that delicate beauty could be captured by paper and pen. Perhaps somewhere in the cluttered house, there might even be a set of watercolor paints.
Humming as she worked, Laura felt happier than she had in weeks. The rich fragrance of the earth pleased her senses. A bee buzzed to a lone red tulip in a patch of straggly daffodils. The clip-clopping of a horse’s hooves came from the mews on the other side of the fence, along with the voices of servants from the stables. She paid only fleeting heed to the intrusions on her little slice of heaven.
Beneath the pear tree, much to her delight, Laura discovered a hidden clump of late-blooming violets. Weeding the small purple flowers reminded her of Violet Angleton, who had liked to wear posies of her namesake flower. Ten years ago, as debutantes in their first season, they’d become fast friends, sharing the same sense of the absurd for the odd characters in society. Violet had been the one person to whom Laura had confided all of her hopes and dreams.
Then Laura had had to flee England without saying good-bye. There had been no communication between them ever since.
Would they meet again in the coming weeks? Did Laura dare to reveal her true identity to Violet? She wanted to think she could trust an old friend, but what if Violet believed the accusations against Papa? Laura couldn’t risk compromising her investigation …
The tread of quick, heavy footsteps reached the periphery of her awareness. In the next moment the back gate swung open and a man entered the garden.
Kneeling in the shade of the pear tree, Laura turned her head to see past the wide brim of her hat. If he was a deliveryman, he ought to have knocked rather than barge into her ladyship’s private sanctuary.
Then she realized her mistake. The newcomer was a gentleman, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in a claret-wine coat over tan breeches and knee-high black boots. A slight breeze ruffled his thick, cocoa-brown hair. One glimpse of his profile had her reeling in disbelief.
No.
No!
Alex couldn’t be here. It was impossible.
She blinked hard. Too much sun must have addled her senses. Surely this fellow merely resembled him …
He didn’t glance back to the corner where she crouched, half hidden behind the overgrown shrubbery. Instead, he headed down the flagstone path to the arbor where Lady Josephine dozed peacefully.
Laura tensed, ready to leap up if he meant to do a harm to the elderly woman. But he merely sat down beside her, took her hand in his, and patted the back.
Lady Josephine awoke and blinked her eyes. For a moment she appeared disoriented. Then a smile beamed across her lined features. “Alexander! Is it really you?”
He kissed her cheek. “Good morning, Aunt Josie. Forgive me for not visiting the past few days. I had to ride to Hampshire to settle a matter with my estate agent.”
“I do hope it wasn’t anything serious.”
“Only a tedious problem with the drainage system. When the flood last year altered the course of the river, I ought to have had the dairy barns moved. But the project is under way now, and better late than never, I suppose.”
“Oh!” Lady Josephine said. “Well, my dear boy, I’m glad you’re back, safe and sound. By the by, did you see Mrs. Broomfield, the cook? I have been wondering if her sons are married yet.”
Stunned, Laura only half listened to their conversation as they went on to chat about people from the estate whose names she didn’t recognize.
Aunt Josie
… Alex must be the nephew that Lady Josephine had mentioned.
Laura had only a vague recollection of him making reference to a favorite aunt. Of course, at the time she had been caught up in the whirl of her first season, the parties and the flirtations, the excitement of being pursued by so many gentlemen, including society’s most eligible bachelor, the dashing young Earl of Copley. Their romance had been swift and intense over the course of a mere few weeks, and there had not been occasion to meet his elder sister or any other family members …
Oh, dear God in heaven. Alex was
here
—and he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. How was it even possible that she’d have the horrid luck to encounter him twice in one week?
The answer caused a sickening lurch in her stomach. Her first sighting of him on Regent Street had been a ghastly coincidence, but such was not the case today. Lady Milford had
known
that he and Laura had once been an item. Which meant her ladyship must have placed Laura in this house on purpose, hoping that she would run into him.
Why? To rekindle a romance? That made no sense, since Lady Milford also knew that Laura was the one who’d scarred him. Perhaps she’d wanted to give Alex the opportunity to confront Laura, to question her about the theft.
Whatever the reason, it boded disaster.
Realizing she had a death grip on the trowel, Laura ever so quietly placed the implement on the ground. Then she eased off the gardening gloves, groped in her pocket for the spectacles, and slipped them back onto her nose.
Maybe by some miracle Alex wouldn’t recognize her. He’d always been a flirt and a rogue, and after ten years and untold numbers of ladies parading in and out of his life, perhaps he’d forgotten all about Miss Laura Falkner.
The girl who had bloodied his face with a penknife.
Her teeth worried her lower lip. The odds were not in her favor. As the daughter of a supposed thief, she would be an unfit companion to his aunt. All of her grand plans would be ruined, for how else could she gain entry to the exalted ranks of the ton?