Chapter Four #2
Audrey’s heart sank. She had purposely not spoken of walking with Lord Marksman with her uncle. It was not because she wished to deceive her Uncle Jacobi; she simply wished to avoid yet another confrontation.
Caroline continued to offer a defense, but Honfleur’s eyes still watched Audrey’s reaction closely.
“It was not as if Audrey and I could provide the earl a direct cut. Such would cause a scandal and bring more attention to our door. Marksman, Lady Theodora, Audrey, and I spent less than ten minutes together. Then Lady Theodora left with her friends and the earl to his business. Since that time, Audrey and I have chosen to walk at a less fashionable hour or in one of the smaller parks to avoid such encounters.”
“And you only spent time with Lord Marksman upon that occasion?” her uncle asked in skepticism.
Audrey’s first thought was to share how she had refused Lord Marksman’s request to call upon her as proof of her loyalty to Honfleur, but it was then she noted his familiar figure exiting the inn.
Like her, the man wore a disguise, but she would recognize his smooth gait and his wide shoulders anywhere.
He reminded her of a lion she had once viewed pacing in its cage in a traveling carnival in Paris.
The lion dared anyone to move too close.
In her limited opinion, Lord Marksman had a face he presented to the world, one speaking to his amiability, but he could be as dangerous as a lion if someone dared to cross him unexpectedly.
Instinctively, she quickly dropped her eyes so no one else would take note of Marksman’s presence at the same inn as her uncle. It made no sense; yet, Audrey kept Lord Marksman’s secret, for she thought he would do the same for her.
“I have not been in Lord Marksman’s company,” she assured, “other than the one dance at the masquerade and the few minutes Caroline and I spent with him and Lady Theodora in the park. When I leave the house for an errand or for leisure, I am with Caroline or you. I realize my choice to dance with Lord Marksman created a difficult situation for you and your associates; however, at the time, I thought my denial would draw more attention to our presence in Lady Godfrey’s ballroom than did my assent.
I did not understand how critical it was for me to retrieve the message from the courier at a specific time.
I was under the persuasion that the person would hide the message in the ladies’ retiring room, and I could retrieve it after the dance.
I did not know she would also provide me with an oral message to deliver.
If I had been told the whole of it, I would not have acted as I did.
The fact the messenger handed the note to the first person who came through the door was nothing for which we could have planned.
It may all have turned out the same, even if I had gone to the retiring room instead of dancing with Lord Marksman.
Another could have preceded me, and the note would have gone into the wrong hands. ”
“When I met with the courier later,” Caroline declared in Audrey’s defense, “she explained how she was not admitted to the ball, as she expected to be, and she had paid a member of Lady Godfrey’s staff to take the note to the retiring room at a particular time.
According to the courier, the servant did not realize she presented the message to the wrong lady until our contact questioned her later.
We must recall the masque was Audrey’s first foray, Father.
You have only shared your expectations with her, but not your aspirations for our future.
How is Audrey to know what is the best response in such matters? ”
Uncle Jacobi turned his attention upon his daughter. “You are always quick to defend your cousin.”
“Audrey is as dear to me as would be a sister,” Caroline countered. “Naturally, I would consider her dedication to our family beyond question.”
Uncle Jacobi’s eyebrow rose in apparent evaluation. “Until proven otherwise, I will trust your judgment, Caroline.”
“Thank you, Father,” Caroline said with a small smile.
Her uncle stood then. “I will return shortly. Be wary if anyone chooses to approach you. Mr. Stark is waiting outside, by the door, if you have a need of him.”
Caroline nodded her understanding while Audrey held her breath, waiting for his exit.
As quickly as Honfleur disappeared down the short hallway, Audrey turned to her cousin. “Thank you for your ready defense of my person.”
“Most assuredly. I shall always defend you,” Caroline said with emotion. “You are most dear to me.”
“As you are to me,” Audrey responded.
Yet, what followed again had Audrey wondering how she had come to this moment in time.
Before she knew what was what, Caroline caught her up in a quick embrace and kissed her—not on the cheek, but rather on the lips.
Caroline lingered longer than was necessary, and, although the moment was assuredly brief in nature—not a romantic kiss, as were those of which Audrey had read in books—she knew her face had flooded with embarrassment.
Caroline sat back in her seat and smiled widely.
Audrey did not know what to say or even where to look, so she dropped her eyes, retrieved her spoon, and scooped a bite of the stew into her mouth.
Meanwhile, Caroline chuckled. “You are such a pea goose.” Her cousin claimed her own spoon and began to eat, while Audrey stared at the bowl and wished to disappear. “Delicious,” Caroline said suggestively. “Both the stew and your lips.”
Thankfully, any expected conversation had been set aside so they might pretend all was well between them.
They ate without looking upon each other.
Audrey concentrated on placing the stew in her mouth and chewing, and, even though the savory mix now tasted like straw, the exercise allowed her time to think.
Unfortunately, not a single coherent thought was to be had, other than the fact she truly wished she had left this inn with Lord Marksman before Caroline had made their relationship awkward.
He had left Julia’s bed early this morning. Of late, Navan had become quite bored by their encounters. In fact, the world as he knew it brought him no satisfaction—sexually, physically, mentally, or emotionally.
His valet said diplomatically, “I see Miss Julia has again chosen to spritz your jacket with her perfume.”
Beaufort sighed heavily. “I have warned her repeatedly. Is there someplace in the house where you might air it out that requires a bit of perfume to drive away the doom and gloom of Beaufort House?”
“The maids seem quite satisfied to have your jackets in their room, though I am generally required to present the garment with a hot iron afterwards,” Mr. Abbot said with a bit of tongue in cheek.
“Do not tell me they sleep with it,” Navan ordered. “I would be required to release them all, and I despise training a new maid.”
“You have never trained a new maid or even an old one, my lord,” his valet contradicted him.
“I never present any woman too much of my time. Otherwise, she would think I held her in affection, and…”
“You never hold any woman in affection,” Mr. Abbot finished for him.
“I am off to pretend to woo Lady Caroline Moreau. The woman is the actual daughter of a fake French marquis. From what I have deduced so far, the woman is more likely a burlesque performer.”
“You make a great sacrifice for a country not your homeland,” Mr. Abbot said reverently.
“I do so at Duncan’s request, but, lately, I have been considering a change.” Navan quite literally shuddered. “It is as if someone walked upon my grave. I fear history means to chase me to the ground unless something spectacular happens soon.”
Three quarters of an hour later, Beaufort released the knocker on Lord Honfleur’s door.
Hearing someone approach, he placed a smile on his lips, but the woman who opened the door was no maid; she was the one he had been watching for a sennight.
He managed to say, “Good day, miss. Lord Beaufort for Lady Caroline.”
“Step in, my lord,” the young woman said, and Navan’s heart gave a lurch. She was more beautiful up close and dressed more simply than she had been garbed as a sheik’s princess at the masque. “If you would care to wait in the sitting room, I shall inform Lady Caroline of your presence.”
What Navan would have liked to do was spend the afternoon with the young lady before him.
With her red hair, a few freckles on her cheeks, and a simple day dress, she would fit in perfectly in his homeland.
Like it or not, his manhood stirred with desire as he watched the gentle sway of the girl’s hips as she walked away to fetch her cousin.
Frustrated by his reaction to the young woman, especially as he had sworn never to succumb to a woman who would fit more perfectly in his homeland than him, he had simply nodded his agreement.
It was only a matter of minutes before Lady Caroline made her appearance.
Ironically, the woman knew he had no interest in her, and, likewise, she had no interest in him.
They played their parts in a theatrical, of sorts.
If she knew he had viewed her kiss Miss Moreau, perhaps they could forgo much of this charade they practiced.
“My lord,” Lady Caroline said without even a hint of sweetness.
“My lady,” he responded with a bow. A poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. Signifying nothing, he thought. “I had hoped you might permit me to show you some of London from my carriage.”