The Mistress of Hanover Square

‘Damn you, Lisette. Let me be…’ His eyes were dark with memories as he relived the dream. ‘So much blood…so much blood…’

She had been ill for a long time after the birth of her child, but it was not that illness that had caused her death. Lisette had died by her own hand.

He found her with her wrists cut in a bath of warm water. She was still alive when he dragged her from the bath, but barely breathing. He had tried frantically to save her, sending his servant for the doctor, but his efforts were in vain and she was dead when the doctor arrived. Lisette had been buried and Gerard mourned the loss of a young life.

He had not loved her, but she haunted his dreams because he blamed himself for her death. He had married her out of pity, because she was young, alone and with child, abandoned by her lover in a country that was not her own. He knew that the father of her child was an English officer, but Lisette had never named him. His own dreams turned to dust, Gerard had done what he believed was the right thing—a good thing—but he had been unable to love her; when Lisette finally understood that, she had taken her own life.

‘I am so sorry…so very sorry…’

Gerard had never been able to confess the truth to another living soul. He carried it inside, where it continued to fester. If he allowed his guilt to haunt him, it would ruin his life. Gerard had no idea whether or not Amelia would marry him if he asked her. What would she think if she knew the truth concerning his wife’s death?

He had been on the point of asking her to be his wife once, but an urgent message had sent him hurrying to his daughter’s side in France. Little Lisa was a demanding child and she did not like her papa to leave her for long periods. Realising she needed more than her nurses, Gerard had brought her to England and placed her in the charge of an English nanny, but neither Lisa nor her papa was truly content.

Gerard had reached the conclusion that he would never know true happiness unless he asked Amelia Royston to be his wife. He could not marry her without confessing his secret, which was one of the reasons why he had hesitated so long, for he feared that she would turn from him in disgust. He had wanted to die on the battlefield the first time he lost Amelia; to let himself hope and then lose her a second time would destroy him.

This was ridiculous! He was a man of six and thirty and should be able to face up to the truth without fear of rejection. It might be better if he forgot about marriage altogether. He had broken Lisette’s heart, causing her to commit suicide. Perhaps he would do better to remain unwed.

Amelia saw Gerard waiting for her the next morning as she went down to the hall. He was wearing a long coat with several capes, a warm muffler bound about his throat and a fur hat in the Russian style. He smiled his approval as he saw that she too was wearing a thick cloak and muffler, her gloved hands tucked inside a fur muff that hung suspended from a chain about her neck.

‘I see you are prepared for the weather, Amelia. There is a fine frost this morning.’

‘As there should be for Christmas Eve,’ she replied. ‘I think it will be just right for a brisk walk about the gardens, sir.’

‘My daughter would not agree with you.’ Gerard looked rueful. ‘I believe I was wrong to leave her so long in France. She finds our English weather cold and damp and asks constantly when do we return to Paris.’

‘Do you think of leaving England permanently?’ Amelia asked, doing her best to conceal her feeling of acute disappointment.

‘I considered it for a while,’ Gerard confessed. ‘However, I have decided that I should prefer to live in England where I have friends rather than mere acquaintances. Lisa must come to terms with the situation. I believe she will be happier once the summer comes.’

‘I think you may have been in the habit of giving her her own way?’ Amelia tipped her head to one side, her eyebrows slightly raised.

‘Yes, I have spoiled her,’ Gerard admitted and laughed. ‘She is a little charmer and I fear that I may have given in too often to her whims—which may be why she is giving poor Nanny such a difficult time. I hear complaints that she is sometimes sulky and unresponsive, though with me she is very different.’

Amelia was thoughtful. ‘Is the nanny well recommended?’

‘Her references were good. She came from a family with whom she had served for more than six years. However, I have wondered if she is a little too strict with the child. I may have been too lenient, but I would not have Lisa’s life made a misery. It is not easy for a man alone…’ Gerard glanced at Amelia, a rueful look in his eyes. ‘I feel in need of a lady’s advice. Some ladies take little interest in their children. They feel their duty is done once the heir is produced, but you make it your business to care for unfortunate children. You might be able to tell me what to do for the best as far as my daughter is concerned.’

Amelia kept her smile in place despite her disappointment. It was as she had feared—he wanted only to discuss his daughter. ‘I would need to see Lisa and her nanny together. It would be best if it happened casually. If Nanny knows she is being observed, I should learn nothing.’

‘You understand at once, as I knew you would,’ Gerard said, looking pleased. ‘I brought Lisa to Pendleton with me, though I did not allow her to come down to dinner last evening for she is not ready yet. However, she will be present at the children’s party this afternoon. Susannah has lots of small presents and prizes for the young ones. I shall be there. Perhaps…if it is not too much trouble?’ He arched his brows at her.

‘I had intended to be there anyway. I enjoy these things and Susannah will need a little help to organise the games and present giving. It will be no trouble to observe your daughter and her nanny.’

‘How generous you are…’ He paused as Amelia gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘It will be good to have a lady’s opinion in this matter. I have no female relations that I may call upon.’

‘Does your late wife not have a family?’

‘I have no idea. I met Lisette after a bloody battle between the French and the Spanish troops. She had been ill used and I took pity on her. I married her to protect her and to give her unborn child my name. She never spoke of her family. I imagine they were killed during the conflict…’ Gerard was looking straight ahead, a nerve flicking at his temple. ‘I knew nothing about her, except that she was French and clearly of gentle birth.’

‘You love the child very much, do you not?’

‘I fell in love with her when she was born. I was present and helped bring her into the world for there were few doctors available to us—and so she became mine.’ Gerard glanced towards her. ‘After I left England, I was a disappointed man, Amelia. At one time I had nothing to live for. Indeed, I might have welcomed death on the battlefield. I married Lisette because it seemed the best way to protect her and I had abandoned all hope of happiness…but when her child was born I loved the child from the first moment of seeing her.’

‘Yes, you mentioned something of this once before.’Amelia looked thoughtful. ‘You said that your wife was ill for a long time after the child’s birth?’

‘She took no interest in the babe at all. I was able to secure the services of a wetnurse. Often I cared for the child myself, changing her and feeding her as she began to take solid foods. Lisette had no interest in anything for a long time. When she recovered a little…’ He shook his head, as she would have questioned him. ‘After she died, I engaged the services of a nurse, and when the war was over I made the decision to keep Lisa in France with me. At that time I was not sure what to do for the best.’

‘You thought you might live there because your child’s mother was French?’

‘I must confess that for a while I considered leaving the child in France with a nurse,’ he admitted. ‘I was a soldier, a single man—and my estate was in some trouble. I have rectified that now, though I am not as rich as Pendleton or Coleridge.’ He gave Amelia a rueful look. ‘When we first met I had hardly any fortune at all. I dare say that was the reason Sir Michael did not consider me a worthy husband for his sister.’

‘He had no right to send you away.’ Amelia hesitated, then lifted her gaze to meet his because she needed to ask. ‘Why did you not send me word of what happened? Surely you knew that I would have gone with you had you asked? I would not have allowed Michael to prevent our marriage if I had known. I suspected that he had had a hand in it, but when you told me what he did to you—’ She broke off and sighed. ‘It was a wicked thing that Michael did to you—to us…’

‘I ought to have known you would elope with me, despite what your brother said when he had me beaten,’ Gerard admitted. ‘I suppose I was humiliated and angry—even bitter. I was not certain that you loved me enough to defy him. At that time I did not expect to be my uncle’s heir. He had a son who should have inherited. Had my cousin not died of a putrid chill, I must have made my living as a soldier. Perhaps your brother had some right on his side, Amelia.’

‘No, he did not,’ she contradicted at once. ‘Your lack of fortune meant nothing to me, Gerard.’

‘I am no longer a pauper. I have worked hard and my business ventures prosper. However, your own fortune surpasses mine these days. I well remember that you had nothing when I asked you to be my wife.’

‘I did not expect that to change. It was a surprise when my greataunt asked me to live with her—and when she left everything to me. She had told me that I would have something when she died, but I had no idea that she was so wealthy.’

‘It was a stroke of luck for you, I suppose.’

‘Yes…though it has its drawbacks. My brother and sister-in-law are resentful of the fact that I inherited a fortune they believe should have gone to them. Michael has been unpleasant to me on more than one occasion since my aunt died.’

‘They had no right to expect it. Lady Agatha might have left her money anywhere.’

‘Indeed, she might,’ Amelia said. ‘I believe her deceased husband also had relatives who might have hoped for something—but they at least have not approached me on the matter.’

‘And your brother has?’ His brows arched, eyes narrowed and intent.

‘Several times,’ Amelia said. ‘It has been the subject of endless arguments between us. Michael thinks I should make most of the money over to him. I have no intention of doing what he demands, but it has made for bad blood between us.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I have not spoken of this to anyone but Emily—but his last visit was almost threatening. I was a little disturbed by it, I admit.’

‘Sir Michael is of a violent temperament…’

Amelia was silent for a moment, then, ‘You are thinking it might have been he who tried to have me abducted at Pendleton the summer before last? I believe you thought it then?’

‘It is possible, but I may have been mistaken. My own encounter with him may have coloured my thinking. If it was him, why has he not carried the threat further? Why stop at one attempt?’

‘I do not know. For a long time I thought that there might be another attempt, but nothing happened.’

‘It is puzzling. The likely explanation seems that it was actually Susannah who was the intended victim and you were mistaken for her. As you know, there was some awkwardness between the Marquis of Northaven and Harry Pendleton at that time.’

‘That is one possibility, and yet I cannot think that we are alike. Emily is convinced that my brother means me harm. She overheard something he said to me some months ago and she suggested that he would benefit if I died.’

‘Would he?’

‘At the moment he is the largest, though not the only, beneficiary.’

Gerard nodded. ‘It might be wise to change that and let it be known that you have done so, Amelia.’

Amelia’s expression was thoughtful. ‘I cannot think that Michael would wish to see me dead—even for a fortune. My brother is bad tempered and arrogant, but I would not have thought him a murderer.’

‘It would not hurt to take some precautions. I could arrange for you to be watched over—as I did once before. And changes to your will might help if you would consider making them.’

‘Yes, I may do so after the New Year. We are to attend Helene and Max’s ball at Coleridge. Shall you be there?’

‘Yes, I believe so,’ Gerard said. ‘As you know, both Harry and Max are particular friends of mine.’

‘And their wives are good friends of mine,’Amelia said. ‘I should be grateful if you could arrange some kind of protection, for Emily as well as me. I have no idea how it may be done and it may not truly be necessary. I shall, of course, pay the men myself.’

‘As you wish,’ Gerard said. ‘The breeze is very cold. I think we may have some snow. Should we return to the house before we freeze to death?’

‘Yes, perhaps we should,’ Amelia replied.

She had the oddest feeling that he had been on the verge of saying something very different, but at the last he had changed his mind. Nothing more of note was said between them, and they parted after returning to the house. She pondered on what might have been in Gerard’s mind as she went in search of her hostess.

It was good of him to say that he would find suitable men to protect her if he thought her in danger from her brother’s spite. If, of course, it was her brother she needed protecting from…but who else could it be?

‘What made you think I would be interested in such an outrageous proposition?’ The Marquis of Northaven looked at the person sitting opposite him in the private parlour of the posting inn to which he had been summoned that evening. He had considered ignoring the note sent to his lodgings in town, but curiosity and a certain intuition had brought him here. However, to the best of his knowledge he had never met the gentleman before. ‘Kidnapping is a hanging offence…’

‘I had heard that you have a score to settle with a certain gentleman.’

‘Where did you hear that?’ Northaven was alert, suspicious. The other man’s features were barely visible in the shadows, his face halfcovered by the muffler he wore to keep out the cold.

‘One hears these things…of course there would be money once the ransom was paid.’

‘Money…’ Northaven’s mouth curved in a sneer, a flash of hauteur in his manner. ‘I have not yet run through the inheritance my uncle left me.’

‘Then forget I asked you. I had thought you might care to see Ravenshead brought down, but if you do not have the stomach for it there are others willing, nay, eager to do my bidding.’

‘How would this bring Ravenshead down?’ Northaven asked, eyes narrowed, menacing.

‘He imagines he will marry Amelia Royston. I do not wish to see that happen. Once I have finished with her, she will marry no one!’

The Marquis of Northaven shivered, feeling icy cold. He had done much in his life that he was not proud of, but something in the tone of the person who was asking him to arrange Amelia Royston’s downfall was disturbing. Northaven had seduced more than one young woman, but contrary to what was said and thought of him, he had taken none against their will. Indeed, they usually threw themselves into his arms—and why should he say no? Handsome beyond what many thought decent, he had an air of unavailability that made him irresistible to many ladies. He was by no means a white knight, but neither was he the traitor some thought him. He might cheat at cards when desperate; he might lie if it suited him and would not deny that he had sailed close to the edge a few times, but a cold-blooded murderer he was not.

Northaven had been angry with the men who had once been his friends. He had hated the holy trilogy, as he was wont to call Harry Pendleton, Max Coleridge and Gerard Ravenshead. He hated them because they despised him, believed him worse than he truly was, but with the turn in his fortunes of late much of his resentment had cooled. He would have dismissed the proposition being made to him out of hand, but he was curious to hear more.

‘Supposing I were interested in bringing down Ravenshead,’ he said. ‘What would you be willing to pay—and what do you plan for Miss Royston?’

‘I was thinking of ten thousand guineas. Her fate is not your affair. All you need to do is to deliver her to me.’

The words were delivered with such malice that Northaven’s stomach turned. He imagined that Miss Royston’s fate might be worse than death and it sickened him. He was well aware that Amelia Royston had once thought him guilty of the callous seduction and desertion of her friend; he had allowed her to believe it, but it was not true. A few months previously he might have left her to her fate. He had then been a bitter, angry man, but something had happened to him the day he watched a young girl marry the man she loved—the man she had risked everything to save when she thought he was about to die.

No woman had ever loved Northaven enough to take a ball in the shoulder for him. Susannah Hampton had been reckless and could easily have died had his aim been slightly to the left. The moment his ball had struck her shoulder, Northaven had felt remorse. He had been relieved when Susannah made a full recovery. Something drove him to mingle with the crowd on her wedding day. When her eyes met his as she left the church on her husband’s arm, they had seemed to ask a question. He had answered it with a nod of his head and he believed she understood. His feud with her husband was over.

He had not fallen in love with her. Yet she had touched him in a way he had never expected. He had suddenly realised where he was headed if he continued on his reckless path: he would end a lonely, bitter man. For a while the resentment against his onetime friends had continued to burn inside him, but of late he had felt more at peace with himself.

Perhaps at last he had found the way to redeem himself.

‘Let me think about it,’ he said. ‘Ten thousand guineas is a fair sum—and I have no love for Ravenshead. Give me a few days and I shall decide.’

‘Meet me here again in two days and I will tell you more. We can do nothing over Christmas. Miss Royston goes to Coleridge in the New Year—and that will be our chance…’

Chapter Two

Gerard cursed himself for a fool as he parted from Amelia. He had let yet another chance slip, but after discussing his daughter and her brother the time had not seemed right. If he had asked Amelia to marry him in the same breath as telling her that she ought to think of changing her will, she might have thought he was asking her for reasons of convenience to himself. He had made his circumstances clear so that when he did speak there would be no misunder-standing. He was not in need of a rich wife, though Amelia was extremely wealthy. Her fortune was yet another reason why he hesitated—but the burning problem besetting him was whether her opinion of him would suffer when he told her the truth of Lisette’s death.

To conceal the details from her would not be honest. If they were to come out at some time in the future, she might feel that he had deceived her and there would be a loss of trust. All in all, Gerard considered that he had done what he could to prepare the ground for a future proposal. He felt they were good friends, but he could not be sure that anything of their former love was left on Amelia’s part, though every time he saw her he was more convinced that she was the only woman for him. She was beautiful, charming and the scent of her always seemed to linger, making him aware of a deep hunger within. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. Without her…

‘My lord…’ The footman’s voice broke through Gerard’s reverie. He turned as the man approached him. ‘This was delivered for you early this morning, sir.’

‘For me?’ Gerard stared at the parcel wrapped in strong brown paper and tied with string. ‘Was there a card? Do you know who delivered it?’

‘It was a gentleman’s man, sir. I do not know his name, but he said his gentleman had bid him deliver this to you here.’

‘I see…thank you.’ Gerard frowned as he took the parcel. He had left gifts at the homes of some friends in London; however, he had told no one but Toby Sinclair that he was coming here for Christmas. The gift might have come from one of the other guests, but it was more normal to exchange them after dinner on Christmas Eve. He shook the parcel gently and discovered that it rattled. Intrigued, he took it into a small parlour to the right of the hall and untied the strings, folding back the paper.

There was no card, but inside the paper was a wooden box. He lifted the lid and stared at the contents. At first he thought that the doll must be a present for Lisa. However, the head was lying at an odd angle, and, as he lifted it out, he saw that the porcelainhead had been wrenched from the stuffed body. It was broken across the face and the body had been slit down the middle with a knife or something similar.

Gerard felt cold all over. There was something disturbing about the wanton destruction to what had been a pretty fashion doll, the kind that was often used to show off the wares of expensive couturiers rather than a child’s toy.

It could hardly have been broken accidentally. No, this had been done deliberately. He could not imagine who had sent such a thing to him or why. However, he felt that the broken doll was a symbol of something—a threat. The implication was sinister for it must be a warning, though he could not think what he was being warned about or why it had been sent to him at such a time.

Gerard realised that he must have an enemy. His first thought was that he had only one enemy of any note that he knew of and that was the Marquis of Northaven. Northaven had been bitter because Gerard, along with Harry and Max, had ostracised him after that débâcle in Spain, blaming him for the fact that the French troop had been expecting an attack. Northaven had engineered a duel with Harry, which had almost ended in tragedy, but since then none of them had heard much from him. It was as if he had dropped out of sight.

Somehow, it seemed unlikely that the doll had come from Northaven. The man had always denied betraying his friends to the Spanish; he had been prepared to fight any of them in a duel to clear his name—but this doll was something very different. It was meant to disturb, to sow confusion and anxiety—though its message was obscure. Was the sender threatening his daughter?

Gerard felt sick inside as he pictured his daughter being mutilated as the doll had been. Surely the sender could not be threatening Lisa? She was an innocent child who had harmed no one. Besides, what had he done that would cause anyone to hate him to this extent?

‘Gerard…’ Harry entered the room behind him. ‘I thought I saw you come in here.’

‘Yes. I wanted to open this…’ Gerard held the box out to him. ‘One of your footmen gave it to me a moment ago. Apparently, it was delivered earlier this morning.’

Harry looked at the doll, his eyes narrowing as he saw what had been done to it. ‘Good grief! What on earth is that about?’

‘I have no idea. I wish I did.’

‘A threat, do you think?’ Harry’s mouth was a grim white line. ‘To your daughter—or a warning?’

‘Perhaps both…’

‘There was no message?’

‘None that I could find.’

Harry picked up the box and looked inside. Then he saw a small card lying in the discarded paper and string and held it out to Gerard.

‘If you value her, stay away from her. This is your one and only warning and sent in good faith. Ignore it and the one you love may end like this.’ Gerard frowned as he read the words aloud. ‘What can that mean—how can I stay away from my own daughter?’

‘Are you sure the doll is meant to represent your daughter?’ Harry asked. ‘Only a few of us even know she exists, Gerard. Perhaps the person who sent this does not know you have a child.’