Sylvia Andrew (21 page)

They went up to Lord Beaudon’s bedchamber.

‘I’m that glad you’ve come, ma’am. His lordship has been fretting this half-hour!’ The nurse sounded and looked
flustered. It was obvious that Lord Beaudon had been a difficult patient.

‘Papa! I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I…I was delayed.’ Lord Beaudon made a dismissive movement with his hand. His eyes went to Marcus. As usual, Marcus wasted no time on formality, going straight to the point, as he knew Lord Beaudon wished.

‘Good evening, sir. You are looking better. I’ve done as you asked. Loudon and I have sorted out most of your outstanding business, as you asked—and there are papers for you to sign.’

‘Madeleine?’ Lord Beaudon’s speech was distinctly clearer.

‘What is it you wish to do about Maddy, Papa?’

‘Want her to know…I haven’t forgotten. Haven’t seen her…three months…more.’

‘Does she know about me?’

He nodded. ‘Proud of you.’

‘Why didn’t you bring her?’

‘Gossip. Didn’t want…to spoil…your début.’

‘Oh, Papa! Why didn’t you tell me? How could you leave her?’

‘Francesca.’ Marcus had put a warning hand on Francesca’s arm. Lord Beaudon’s eyes followed the gesture.

‘Fetch her now. With his help.’

‘Whose?’

A smile lit the tired face on the pillow. ‘Carne’s, damn it.’

‘I cannot do that!’

‘’Course y’can. Get engaged. Time anyway.’ He closed his eyes and slept.

The stormy expression on Francesca’s face was confirmation enough that Marcus had been right to be cautious. As soon as they were outside the door of Lord Beaudon’s room, she turned on him.

‘I know what you are thinking, but I assure you that I have never encouraged my father to believe that I wished to marry you! Indeed, it is the last thing I want!’

He glanced round expressively. ‘Shall we discuss this in private, Francesca?’

‘There is nothing to discuss! I have no intention of becoming engaged to you, Lord Carne!’

‘You force me to tell you in something less than privacy that I have at the moment no intention of asking you to be my wife, Miss Beaudon!’

They were both so absorbed that they were not aware of Mrs Canfield until she said gently, ‘Francesca, I’m surprised. What sort of discussion is this to be having on the staircase? Take Lord Carne into the salon.’ Unseen by Francesca, she raised an eyebrow at Marcus as she passed them.

Marcus was fighting for survival. He said more calmly, ‘Your father’s interests are surely more important than our own for the moment. We can talk more easily downstairs.’

Francesca, still looking mutinous, allowed herself to be led into the salon. Here she marched past him and sat down defiantly in the window seat.

Marcus said carefully, ‘Whatever my feelings, I should not have indulged in that piece of discourtesy upstairs. I apologise.’

Francesca said stiffly, ‘I provoked you to it, Lord Carne. You have no need to apologise.’

‘Very well. Now, can we forget it and continue with our efforts to solve the problem of Maddy?’ His even tone and casual air were designed to reassure. Francesca relaxed a little. ‘It is now clear that someone has to go to Paris, and that your father will not be content unless we go together. Whatever our own views on the matter, his are quite clear. He wishes us to be engaged.’

‘And that would suit neither of us,’ said Francesca with determination.

‘Quite. But may I suggest that we do not tell him that? I am sure we could travel to Paris together without arousing comment if I went on official business and merely acted as your courier. I do have some unfinished Foreign Office business in Paris. Perhaps Mrs Canfield and Lydia would come with you?’

‘Mrs Canfield has agreed to supervise the care of Papa. And Lydia should not be dragged away from London at the moment.’

‘True. I had forgotten. Madame Elisabeth? I heard you say she was already on her way here?’

Francesca looked at him. Once again, he had the impression that he had only half her attention. ‘It might work, I suppose,’ she said slowly. ‘How long would it take to arrange?’

‘A few days.’

‘Good!’ Marcus looked at her in surprise. He had been delighted that she had agreed with so little resistance, but had thought she would object to the delay—short though it was. ‘I mean,’ said Francesca carefully, ‘that it is good that we have managed to settle on a solution.’

‘What shall we tell your father?’

‘He will be happy to know that we have agreed to go. We need not go into great detail.’ She smiled wryly. ‘He trusts you, I am sure.’

‘Do you?’

‘Trust you? Why, of course!’

‘Do you, Francesca? Really?’ He moved closer to her, absurdly pleased at her words. But she avoided him and went to the door.

‘Papa must know what we are doing,’ she said, and went upstairs.

Marcus followed her in silence. Very well, my girl, he thought. We shall see how we progress when you and I journey to Paris together. There will be occasions when I shall have you to myself—I’ll make certain of it! And then…we shall see.

Marcus visited Mount Street only fleetingly the next day, and not at all the next. He and Francesca had seen Lord Beaudon and told him of their decision. He had congratulated them both and expressed his delight, though it was clear that this was shadowed by his anxiety about Maddy. Marcus had felt some compunction at deceiving Francesca’s father, but comforted himself with the thought that, if all went well, he and Francesca would, in truth, be engaged by the time they returned to London.

What Francesca made of it, he was not sure. She had recently been more open with him, but now she retreated once more into reserve, and he found it difficult to guess what she was thinking. He was content to wait. He would have all the time in the world on their journey to France to find a way back into her confidence.

So though he sent messages to Mount Street, he did not have time to see the Beaudons himself. He had been speaking the truth when he said he had unfinished business in Paris, but there were people in London he had to consult first. He spent an energetic two days making arrangements and gathering papers, making sure that their journey would be as comfortable as man could make it, and sending couriers ahead to prepare their reception in Paris. It was a demanding time; if he had not been buoyed up by the hope of finally persuading Francesca to trust him, he would have found it exhausting.

He was shocked and furiously disappointed when he arrived in Mount Street and found Francesca already gone.

‘Miss Beaudon isn’t here? Of course she is!’ he said sharply to the hapless footman who had taken his hat and cane.

Roberts, the butler, came to the rescue. Dismissing the footman with a nod, he said, ‘Mrs Canfield left instructions that your lordship should be shown into the salon. Would you come this way, my lord?’

Containing himself with difficulty, Marcus allowed himself to be ushered into the salon. He refused an offer of wine somewhat curtly, and waited impatiently for Mrs Canfield to arrive.

‘Maria, what’s this nonsense about Francesca?’ he demanded as soon as she came through the door. Mrs Canfield was in an unusual state of agitation.

‘Francesca set off for Paris last night, Marcus.’

‘You cannot mean it!’

‘I’m afraid I do.’

‘Does her father know?’

‘No. We haven’t told him yet.’

‘Why the devil did you permit such a thing, Maria?’ His tone was peremptory.

Mrs Canfield stiffened. She said, ‘I knew nothing of the matter. Francesca took advantage of the fact that Lydia and I were at the Scarborough rout party to escape.’

‘Did she go alone?’

‘No. Madame de Romain arrived yesterday and I assume she accompanied Francesca.’

‘Two women! When did you say she went?’

‘Last night.’

‘My God! Two women travelling through the night along some of the most dangerous roads in England.’ He paced restlessly through the room, then he stopped and turned. ‘You must have suspected something! Why didn’t you stop such a mad escapade? Or at least send for me!’

‘Marcus, I make every allowance for your sense of shock, but you are being unnecessarily rude. I repeat—I had no idea, no idea at all that Francesca would undertake such a foolhardy enterprise. Nothing about her behaviour in the past would have led me to suspect it.’

‘I told you that Francesca was impulsive and headstrong, and you refused to believe me. Oh, this is exactly like her!
I should have anticipated it. Past experience should have taught me.’

‘I can still hardly credit what you say. But I have come to agree with you, Marcus, that she needs a stronger man than Denver to control her. This will be a most unpleasant surprise for him. I believe him to be sincerely in love with her, but he will be shocked beyond measure at her behaviour.’

‘Denver? Bah! He’s too gentle a man for Francesca. Even I couldn’t control her. No, with Francesca, you merely try to guard her from the worst of her follies, and love her for them. And hope that, with time, she will trust you enough to allow you power over her!’ He had been talking almost to himself. But now he went on, ‘So you see, Maria, I have to rescue her. I’ll leave straight away, though it’s impossible to catch them up before the packet sails. I wish you had sent for me sooner.’

‘I did try to find you, but you were not at home. I could hardly send round the clubs for you!’

‘I was with Stewart’s man in the Foreign Office. Oh God, I hope she’s safe!’ He made for the door, then stopped. ‘What about Lord Beaudon?’

‘There’s a note for him. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I waited for you to come before giving it to him.’

‘I’ll take it. He’s pushed her into this. If he hadn’t been so hasty, we’d have managed very well. You’d better warn Glover to be on hand.’

But Lord Beaudon took what the letter had to say with remarkable fortitude. It did not mention the name Carne, but Francesca’s reluctance to be in his company was clear in every line. When Marcus grew pale and clenched his jaw, Lord Beaudon chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll have you,’ he said. ‘Patience. I suppose you’re going to follow her?’

‘I must. Though she does seem at least to have had the sense to supply herself with plenty of protection.’

The letter had been intended to reassure Francesca’s father about her safety. She told him that she had used a reputable agent and she and Madame Elisabeth had found companions and guards for their journey. And they had letters of introduction, together with the addresses of some of Madame Elisabeth’s old friends to help them in Paris.

‘This is ridiculous!’ Marcus burst out.

‘Then be off to Paris and tell her so. And bring Madeleine back with you!’ was Lord Beaudon’s response.

Marcus wasted no more time. He was forced to take the travelling coach he had prepared with such care, for it contained all his papers, but it meant that progress was not as fast as he would have wished. But it was too late in any case to catch Francesca’s party before they embarked for France, and the next packet was not till the following day. But, all the same, Marcus chafed at the delay. In spite of Francesca’s reassurances he wanted to see for himself that she was safe and sound. And preferably under his own protection!

As Francesca travelled the long road to Paris, she occasionally allowed herself to wonder what the journey would have been like in Marcus’s company. In different circumstances it could have been…idyllic. But she did not allow her mind to dwell on this for long, and not once did she regret her hasty decision to come to France without him.

Lord Carne may be everything Society said of him—totally honourable, completely dependable, absolutely scrupulous. But the Marcus that was lodged so unshakeably in her heart was none of these. The admirable Lord Carne would never attack a helpless female as she had been attacked in the salon at Mount Street. And elegant Miss Beaudon would never respond to any man at all in the abandoned manner in which she had responded, returning kiss for kiss, meeting passion with passion.

But Francesca and Marcus…ah, that was different! Neither reason nor respect for propriety, no sense of self-preservation or fear of hurt seemed to hold back this overwhelming force which could flare into life between them. Time had not affected it—at twenty-five she was as vulnerable to Marcus as she had been when she had given in to his charm when she was not even sixteen. She had managed to survive the experience of a broken heart once. A second exposure might well destroy her. The only way to guard herself was to avoid as much contact with him as possible…as she would.

They arrived in Paris early in the evening after an uneventful journey and went to a hotel not far from her father’s house, recommended to them by connections of Madame Elisabeth. It was too late to pursue the question of Maddy that evening, so the two ladies retired early to their rooms and tried to get some rest.

The next morning they set off, armed with a street guide and Lord Beaudon’s address. Though the rue du Luxembourg took some time to find, Lord Beaudon’s house was soon identified. It was securely locked up. They tried knocking, and pulling the bell, but there was no response. When Francesca looked all round for someone to consult, the street was deserted.