No Marriage Of Convenience - No Marriage Of Convenience Part 32
Library

No Marriage Of Convenience Part 32

"Oh, my dearest Aveline," Roderick said, pulling Louisa into his arms. "I swear there is nothing that will keep us apart."

Louisa, playing her role with more enthusiasm than was entirely necessary, clung to Roderick, her body melding to his and her gaze glowing with passion. "I forsake my honor, my family, my duty, everything but you, my love."

Roderick's arms tightened, drawing Louisa even closer. The entire room stilled, as if enthralled and entranced by these mismatched and imperiled lovers. "One kiss, sweet Aveline. A single kiss to seal our destiny."

As the young actor bent his lips to Louisa's, Mason realized that the young man actually meant to kiss her -and Louisa meant to kiss him back.

"Just a minute there," Mason said, feeling for the first time the paternal pangs of watching a daughter grow up. He rushed forward and separated the two. "That's enough for today. You've done an excellent job, Louisa, but I fear Cousin Felicity needs your immediate assistance."

"But Uncle," Louisa protested, her eyes still fixed on her Geoffroi.

"No excuses. You've been a great help to Riley, but now Cousin Felicity needs your assistance."

"No, I don't, Mason," Cousin Felicity piped up.

Mason groaned. How had he missed her? It was easy to see why, for she'd hidden away in the corner of the room, cozied up next to Mr. Pettibone.

Suddenly he realized that perhaps he shouldn't have been avoiding Riley's practices, for it appeared the entire house was finding themselves engaged in rather questionable love affairs.

Especially given the moon-faced expression on Cousin Felicity's face; the lady appeared as lovestruck as Louisa.

Gads, what was he in for now?

"I'm quite fine here, Uncle," Louisa told him, edging closer to Roderick, who stood posed and glowering, just like the frustrated Geoffroi in the play.

"Oh, so am I," Cousin Felicity said, in a show of solidarity.

"No, you are not," Mason said. "Don't you have some embroidery that needs attending, Cousin?"

"I would, but I am out of thread." She turned to her new amour and said, "It is terrible trying to find the right shade of azure."

Mr. Pettibone stepped forward and took Cousin Felicity's hand. Drawing her fingers to his lips, he placed a lingering kiss there, then said, "Just look in a mirror and you'll find the most royal shade of that color I've ever beheld in those glorious eyes of yours, my dearest lady."

Mason shuddered at this overblown gallantry, before he caught Cousin Felicity's elbow and retrieved the rest of her arm from her attentive suitor. "Perhaps you and Louisa can go find the right shade this afternoon," he told her.

"Go shopping?" the delighted lady said. "Oh, Mason, how kind of you. Mr. Pettibone can assist us, Louisa."

"Oh, no, he can't," Riley said, much to Mason's relief. "Aggie has far too much work to do this afternoon."

"But, Riley-" Mr. Pettibone started to say.

"No, Aggie," Riley told him, moving between her partner and Cousin Felicity. "You have a fitting this afternoon with Jane and must wait at the theatre for the playbills to be delivered."

Mr. Pettibone looked exceedingly put out, but he turned to Cousin Felicity and laid his hand on his breast. "We must not think of ourselves as parted, my love, but together always, here in our hearts. Our love is forged so that no one can tear it asunder."

Mason heard Riley muttering something about having to cut those lines as well.

"I don't see why I have to go," Louisa complained. "Riley, tell my uncle you need me here."

Riley glanced at Mason, who in turn shook his head. "We are done with the scenes I needed you for,"

she said. "So you are free to go with Cousin Felicity."

Louisa frowned, casting one last heartbreaking moue up at Mason, who held firm to his resolve and pointed toward the door.

The last thing he needed was a St. Clair running off with an actor and casting the entire family into shame.

His infatuation and growing admiration for the Queen's Gate leading lady was enough scandal for now.

The waiter at White's leaned over the gaming table and said quietly to Lord Cariston, "There is someone to see you, my lord."

"What does he want?" he grumbled at the fellow.

"Perhaps the rest of your money, Cariston," Colonel Pollard joked. His sturdy fingers tapped the pile of vowels in front of him-all of them the Marquis's.

"That is, if there is anything left!" said a young lordling who'd joined the play early and also held a fairshare of Lord Cariston's vouchers.Everyone but Cariston laughed.The waiter shifted back and forth. "My lord, he says you asked to meet him regarding certain matters."

"Yes, right." Cariston rose from the table, his fellow gamblers complaining about his untimely departure.

"Business, eh, Cariston?" Colonel Pollard asked. "Should I send my man around to collect these now, or will there be anything left in the morning?" He laughed, as did the others.

Lord Cariston steamed at the insult, but hadn't the wherewithal to call the man out. Pollard could aseasily put a bullet between his eyes as beat him at cards. The man had the devil's own luck, whereasCariston seemed to have lost his-for now.

That would soon change, he thought, as he followed the waiter down the hall and through the kitchens.

In a few moments, Nutley would tell him that she was at long last gone from his life, and he would go on

receiving the income he needed to maintain his more costly habits.

Stepping out into the alleyway behind the club, he found his hired assassin waiting for him.

Dressed as always in the guise of a gentleman, Nutley appeared bored and insulted at having been made

to wait amongst the garbage.

As if he had a right to care where they met, Cariston thought. Looking around to see that there was noone about, he said, "How fares the lady, Nutley? Is she slumbering in the Thames yet?""No," the man grumbled. "The little bitch has more lives than a cat.""You mean she still lives?""Just like I said. She ain't dead."Cariston came eye to eye with his dangerous accomplice. "Why not?""I had it all fixed. Then he came along.""Ashlin." Cariston's hands balled at his sides. How he hated the man. Had since they'd been lads together at school."Yeah, that bookish fribble. Who'd have known he'd carry a blade?""You idiot," Cariston said. "I told you not to discount the man." He paced a few steps. "Why haven't you gone back and finished the job?"

"I would, but she went and moved in with him. Have you seen that pile of stone?" He shook his head. "It will take a bit more gold to see the job done now."

Lord Cariston turned on him. "You'll do it for the price we agreed on, and you'll do it immediately. I

want her dead."

"That's hardly the tone to take with me, milord," Nutley told him, pulling a knife from his jacket andputting it beneath Cariston's neck. The point pressed against the fluttering vein there."I could slit you real easy and no one would care," Nutley said. With that, he nicked his employer's neck.Cariston howled in pain. "How dare you," he managed to sputter. "I'll have the watch on you.""No, you won't," Nutley told him. "Because if you do, they'll need a bed sheet to mop up what I'll bleed from you."His guttural laugh echoed down the alley like a banshee's promise, and by the time Cariston had lookedup to see where he'd gone to, Nutley had disappeared into the night.

Chapter 14.

M ason had never considered himself a coward before, but when it came to facing Riley and the girls now that he continued to remain obstinate about their not attending the Everton masquerade, he thought he might be safer going to a Royal Society meeting than spending another night at home.

Riley had not given up, and spent a part of each day badgering him on one reason or other as to why the girls deserved to go-they were making great strides in their lessons. Bea had gone three entire days without cursing. Maggie had mastered the steps to not one, but three dances.

Yet his pride kept him from explaining that his refusal was more a matter of money than manners.

Someone was buying up Freddie's vowels at an alarming rate-and Mason had no doubts that this unknown creditor would soon be arriving on his doorstep demanding complete reparations.

With this added pressure to their already strained finances, Mason couldn't see how they could spare even a shilling for costumes that would be worn only once.

Still, they needn't be so put out, he thought, after another afternoon tea of sullen looks and steely quiet. He hadn't given up on the idea that the girls would still have their Season, albeit a scaled-down one.

Besides, they were up to something, like cats watching an unsuspecting mouse, and he didn't want to be around when they decided to pounce.

It also didn't help that when it came to refusing Riley, he felt himself the veriest greenling. The lady, in all her guises, touched that part of his heart, that very unrepentant Ashlin core, to which he'd vowed never to succumb to its siren call of vice. And he knew with the right enticement, eventually he would fall prey to her requests and relent.

Much to his chagrin, the scheduled lecture at the Society had been cancelled, and the replacement speaker had been dull and unimaginative.

Throughout the speech he found himself wondering how Riley would be presenting the material-a very distracting notion indeed.

So he'd left at the first break and much to his surprise run into Del's uncle, the Duke of Everton, on the steps of White's.

He'd always liked Everton and looked up to him like a father, since his own dissolute sire had rarely had time for his children, especially a second son with no taste for drinking and gambling.

Glad for the chance for the erudite conversation the Duke always brought to the table, he accepted the man's invitation to join him in a glass of port at their club. The rooms were still relatively quiet at such an early hour, so they could talk without interruption.

Unfortunately, the only subject Duke had wanted to talk about was Riley-where she was from, her lineage, how long Mason had known the girl, and why she'd come to London.

Mason had repeated the lies they'd shared with everyone else, trying to steer the Duke onto another subject, but the man would not be diverted.

Probably the work of Lady Delander, Mason thought. Sending her brother out to do her dirty work. Then again, perhaps the man was being overly cautious about who his nephew married.

Eventually he made his excuses and left, rather than continue to lie to a man he respected. At least at home he could hide in his study and not be interrogated.

His solitary walk home ended when he found Del lounging on his front steps, a wilted flower arrangement in his clenched hand. His friend's horse pranced and snorted impatiently at the post.

"Your demmed butler will not let me in," Del complained.

Mason crossed his arms over his chest. "That is because I told him not to let you have entrance to the

house unless I was at home."

Del sat up. "All these years of coming and going from this place as if it were my own and now even Belton is against me. I suppose that is why the poets are so inspired. The anguish. The agony. The pain of unrequited love."

"I think you fell off that beast you insist on riding and hit your head. That might be the real cause of your

agonies."

Tossing aside his flowers, Del sighed. "Oh, heartless fiend. Oh, vile interloper. What would you know of my pain? You have hidden away the very angel sent down to cure me. I should have known that practical, cold heart of yours would never understand."

"I understand you should go home and sleep off whatever you've been imbibing tonight."His horse snorted as if in agreement."You think I'm drunk?" Del asked. "Perhaps I am. But it is more from gazing into your cousin's blue eyes..."

"Green," Mason corrected.

"No, blue. They are like forget-me-nots in springtime."

"No, they are green."