The Romany Heiress Read online

  His explanations put an entirely different construction on her interactions with her other partners. She’d thought they were merely being warm, friendly. Now, she began to think differently.

  She had not been successful tonight. She’d been foolish. Hot tears burned in her eyes. In the distance, she could hear the faint strains of a clock sounding the midnight hour and the bustle of people heading into the cold collation supper laid out in the refreshment room.

  She couldn’t go in there and, perhaps, it would be best if she didn’t. She’d only cause Giles more embarrassment and herself as well. She was no better than she ought to be. But that was her private disappointment. She had a facade to maintain. She wouldn’t let Giles see her cry.

  Tonight was the proof that Magda had been right. He’d plotted to show her how wide the chasm was between her and the life she hoped to attain. She could put on a dress and thread her hair with pearls. She could even dance in the ballroom but it wasn’t enough, not even close to enough. Actions and appearances masked hidden messages and nuances that she hadn’t even begun to suspect lay beneath such harmless activities.

  “I think I will excuse myself from the rest of the ball. It’s midnight and the magic is over,” she said bravely, refusing to apologize.

  “I think that would be best. I’ll make your excuses,” Giles said stiffly, releasing her arm, letting her find her way circumspectly back to her room.

  He had not meant to make her cry. He was fairly sure he’d caught a tell-tale catch in her voice. But he had to make her understand how precarious her presence here was. If he was to set her up in the country somewhere, she needed a clean reputation. Small hamlets and sleepy villages were unforgiving places for people of blemished character. It was imperative that he begin her education tomorrow as soon as the guests departed. There was much more she needed to know than what he’d anticipated. Seeing her tonight had shown him how much he took for granted in his world, a world he’d lived in since birth. Manners and social protocol were so thoroughly ingrained in him and yet she knew none of them-a sharp reminder of the contrast between his rarefied world and the world that lay beyond it.

  Seeing her tonight had also been invigorating. She’d been a breath of fresh air-no that was too cliche, too understated. She’d been a gust blowing through the ballroom, an exotic dervish. A secret part of himself that he dare not reveal had thrilled to the sight of her whirling about the ballroom, her dark hair coming down in tendrils, her face flushed with pleasure at her exertions. When she had teased him at the last, he’d itched to play the rake and take her challenge, giving into the impulse of waltzing with her in the same wild abandon.

  Giles leaned on the balustrade and pressed his hands to his head. What was happening to him? One moment he was chastising Cate for inappropriate behavior, and the next he was longing for her in spite of those same behaviors.

  He felt a movement beside him and smelled the familiar vanilla fragrance of a friend. He didn’t need to look up to know Isabella stood beside him.

  “Has she gone up to her chambers?” She asked quietly.

  Giles nodded.

  “I hope you weren’t too hard on her. Perhaps she didn’t understand the implications. Our worlds are very different from one another.”

  Giles looked up, brow furrowing with a question.

  “After seeing her tonight, I thought I recognized her from somewhere. Tristan told me. Alain has told Cecile, just now.” Isabella went on, a gentle hand on his sleeve, “You’re bearing up admirably. You should know, we all think you’ve done the right thing by keeping her here until it can be resolved, although I know it must be most difficult on you. The four of us have made some decisions.”

  “Decisions?” Giles pressed, suddenly wary.

  “Yes, we talked briefly and we’ve decided that we must stay with you until all is settled. The four of us are staying on after the guests leave tomorrow to help you in whatever way we can.”

  Giles felt himself smile in the darkness, tension ebbing from him at the prospect of having his friends near. It would indeed make the upcoming month, and whatever lay beyond it, easier to bear. He squeezed Isabella’s gloved fingers. “Thank you. Let me tell you what I have planned.” He went on to outline his plans for Cate’s future, feeling relieved that now they all knew.

  Isabella listened quietly. When he’d finished, she said, “Don’t worry, Giles. We’ll take care of everything just as you’ve taken care of everything for us for so many years. We are here for the duration.”

  The next day Cate learned that departing a house party was an event of its own. Guests had slept until the unthinkably late hour of 11:00 and then risen, dressed, and ate a leisurely breakfast either in their rooms, as many of the ladies chose to do, or in the breakfast parlor where Cate found herself so outnumbered by gentlemen that she quietly took her toast and tea out onto the back verandah.

  Afterward, the laconic nature of the household instantly transformed into action as if by tacit agreement at precisely half past twelve, a barrage of servants would begin the arduous task of packing and carrying traveling trunks and bandboxes downstairs to the main hall.

  Cate watched the growing piles of luggage in wideeyed amazement from her inconspicuous post, in a small parlor off the main hall. The amount of clothing guests had brought to a five-day house party was overwhelming. It was no wonder Isabella had dresses to spare. Cate doubted the caravan’s entire wardrobe would have filled more than two of the large trunks being stacked in the hall. From there they would be loaded in the long line of conveyances waiting in the drive.

  That was another point of revelation. Several guests had brought not one but two carriages with them; one for his or her own traveling pleasure and another to carry their servants where they would be organized into piles before being transported to the conveyances lining the drive.

  Then there was the whole business of leave-taking. After the carriages were loaded with their cargo, the guests began the long parade out in an orderly fashion, which Cate was certain Giles had meticulously orchestrated so that no one was forced to sit in their carriage while awaiting the departure of someone ahead of them in line.

  From her vantage point, she could glimpse Giles at the front door with Isabella and Tristan at his side, farewelling the guests, graciously accepting compliments, and promising to see everyone again in town at the Little Season in a few months when hunting season was over.

  The words Little Season caused Cate to sit a bit straighter. She focused on Giles. For a man whose right to the title was being challenged, he looked supremely confident, the promises to meet again flowing easily from his lips. Either he was an accomplished actor, able to mask his feelings, or he truly wasn’t concerned. The latter thought gave Cate pause. As the last carriage prepared to pull out of the drive, Cate was struck by the gravity of her situation, by how much protection the presence of the guests had afforded her.

  With a house full of people, Giles had little time to do anything in relation to clearing his name or debunking her claims. With that obstacle gone, there was nothing preventing him from pursuing whatever course of action he wished to take. Perhaps he wasn’t concerned because he had a veiled plan.

  Cate thought of other things too. The warmth she’d felt from Isabella and Cecile right up to the ball last night had been absent this morning. Originally she’d accounted for the former’s brusque tone when she’d poked her head into the parlor and seen Cate sitting there as nothing more than Isabella being busy with the departures.

  Cecile had not left her rooms all day. That too Cate had attributed to the lateness of the ball. Now she was realizing neither lady had sent down any trunks. No carriages had been ordered to bear them away. The signs meant two things. First, the ladies and their formidable husbands were staying. Second, Cecile and Isabella knew why she was really there. Giles had stacked the deck.

  The thoughts had barely registered when Isabella swept into the little parlor, looking marvelously elegant and
composed in a cream-colored muslin gown sprigged with tiny gold and green leaves. From her neat appearance, one would not guess she’d spent the better part of the day seeing off the guests.

  Cate had only a moment in which to plan her strategy. Should she let Isabella know that she knew Isabella knew her secret or should she let Isabella bring it up? Prior experience with difficult fortunes to tell had taught her that when in doubt, the best approach was to let the other lead. She would learn far more about the other party’s state of mind if she followed. One only led when one was in a position of power to control the situation. Cate knew that was not the case here. She hadn’t the ammunition at her disposal to take the offensive with Isabella. She would let Isabella expose her hand and then she could react appropriately.

  “Are they all gone?” Cate asked with a forced air of friendliness.

  “Yes.” Isabella’s tone was distant. “Getting the guests out is almost as difficult as getting them settled”

  Isabella leveled her distinctive topaz eyes at Cate. It was all the warning she would get. “Cecile and I have rang for tea to be served in the music room. It’s quiet and offers a serene prospect in the late afternoon with its view of the gardens. Will you join us? All the loose ends from the house party are being wrapped up even as we speak. All except one.”

  The imperious tone of her voice made it clear she was not asking Cate to join them. She was commanding it. Only a coward would seek a way out, and Cate was no coward. Attaining Spelthorne would not be accomplished through spineless acts but by unabashedly proclaiming who she was. If she could not face two women, she’d never muster the pluck to face far more dangerous audiences. She reminded herself sternly as she followed Isabella down the warren of hallways leading to the music room that she was in possession of the truth. She was doing nothing wrong by asking for what was legitimately hers.

  The music room was indeed a place of potential quietude. The walls were painted a deep summer blue and finished with white wainscoting. An elegant carpet featuring a peacock in blues, greens, and gold lay on the floor. A small fireplace done in white to complement the wainscoting sat on one wall, around which was arranged the conversation area where they sat-Isabella presiding on the curved sofa upholstered in blue damask, Cecile and she perched on matching elegant chairs.

  About the room, various instruments were placed: a harp, a pianoforte, and a violin. If the situation were different, Cate would have been eager to get her hands on the violin, which shone from good care and varnishing. If the situation was different, the room would live up to Isabella’s claim of serenity. But today, the air was infused with tension.

  Isabella poured out the tea from a blue and white china teapot, giving an oral tour of the room as she did so. “This tea set is by the Josiah Spode Company. Giles is an avid collector of all things regal. His table is set with nothing but the best. He has one of the premier collections of Spode and Wedgwood china in the ton. He bought this set especially for this room since the color and pattern complement it so well.

  “In fact, he had the decorators paint these walls `Wedgwood blue’ on purpose. The furniture is all done in the Louis XV style. In the smaller, more intimate rooms of the abbey, Giles has adopted the Regence fashion for furnishings like he has here. You will note the delicate tracery on the arms and legs of the chairs you and Cecile occupy. The rosewood used for them shows off the workmanship in a most excellent fashion.” Isabella broke off her commentary. “Sugar with your tea?”

  Cate declined and accepted the splendid cup and saucer from Isabella. She was feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information Isabella had imparted. To her, the walls were simply blue like the summer sky she’d camped beneath her entire life. The exquisite tea set that matched its surroundings so perfectly was only a happy coincidence. She had looked at the room, found it beautiful but nothing more. Giles had looked at this room and seen a place to make a masterpiece where every element was carefully considered and laid out. Nothing was left to chance.

  If a bowstring were as taut as the tension filling the room, it would snap. Isabella’s lesson could have not been more obviously taught. Cate actually felt an enormous sense of relief when Isabella handed Cecile a teacup and fixed Cate with a stare that indicated it was time to get down to business. “I can see from my recitation, that you have no inkling of what I am talking about and why it is important.”

  Cate said nothing but merely held Isabella’s gaze. The countess might be right, but Cate didn’t have to admit defeat.

  A hint of a smile danced on Isabella’s lips. “Come, Cate. Do you know who Josiah Wedgwood is? Do you know what he did for the improvement of china?”

  “No, I do not,” Cate said, purposefully keeping her head erect. “Do you know how to read palms? Do you know you can predict a man’s future by the length of his life line?”

  “Touche,” Isabella said, smiling over the rim of her teacup. “I do not. But then, I am not attempting to infiltrate a gypsy camp and lay claim to the position of fortuneteller.”

  Isabella’s tone startled Cate. The last was not said with the biting condemnation she had expected. She also noted Isabella’s careful choice of words. Isabella had said “lay claim” when she could have easily have said “pass myself off as” Was there an ally of sorts lurking beneath Isabella’s harsh lesson?

  Cate decided to test her assumptions. “You mean, pretending to be the heir to Spelthorne?”

  “No, I mean laying claim,” Isabella said sharply. “Whether you and Giles have a legitimate dispute over the claim to Spelthorne is another issue entirely, one which will resolve itself in time. True, Giles is our friend. For me, he’s been a friend nearly my whole life. I trailed after him and my brother Alain years before Tristan joined our circle. Last night Cecile and I were shocked to hear the truth behind your sudden appearance at the house party. However, Cecile and I have talked since then and we’ve come to a conclusion, rather a few conclusions.”

  Cate sipped her tea to cover her surprise and quirked an eyebrow, practicing one of the gestures she’d seen Isabella make over the course of the last two days. This was growing more interesting by the moment. Either Isabella and Cecile were going to oust her from the house or they had something planned that probably didn’t include Giles’s seal of approval.

  Cecile took over the conversation at this point, giving Cate a chance to study Alain’s wife. So much of her interactions with the two ladies had been dominated by Isabella. Now, for the first time, she concentrated on the sherry-eyed woman with lustrous mahogany-colored hair. Cecile was every bit as lovely as Isabella but compared side by side, Cecile lacked the grand presence which Isabella exuded with ease.

  In part, this was due to Isabella’s striking height, but also Cate recognized it had to do with the breeding of a lifetime. Isabella had been born to be one of society’s leading ladies. Cate had seen it in her that very first night on the Denbigh’s back verandah when she’d predicted Isabella would become a grande dame of the ton.

  Cecile’s soft, French-accented tones drew Cate’s attention almost as much as what the woman was saying. “Bella is right. Perhaps you and Giles have something to work out. Yes, we were at first upset about the challenges you made against our friend. However, those challenges will be resolved and when they are, you will have a new life, no matter what the decision is. You knew very well the risk you took the moment you stepped foot onto Spelthorne. There would be no going back to the caravan no matter what happened here”

  “That’s not true. The caravan would welcome me back,” Cate stammered. The references to a “new life” were confusing.

  Cecile smile softly and gave a gentle shake of her head. “Ma cherie, I am sure they would. However, I am just as sure that you would never be happy there again as you were in the past. It would never satisfy you. I know. That was how it happened for me. When I met Alain, I knew nothing would ever be the same for me. Through him, I saw that there was another way to live. I simply had to reach out and gr
asp it. Knowing that, I could not go back to the old way of living.”

  “Wait” Cate set down her teacup forcefully. “I am not in love with the earl. You talk as if there is romance brewing. There is nothing more between us than a legal matter.”

  Cecile nodded and gave a Gallic wave of her hand. “I am not talking of love, at least not yet. My love for Alain is an entirely different story, one that I might share at another time for another purpose. I only mean to say that once we meet certain people in our lives, they change those lives irrevocably, romance and love withstanding.”

  “Just as long as we’re clear on that,” Cate said sharply, feeling uncomfortable with the discerning glance Isabella cast her direction.

  “The point being, you will have a new life. Your new life has already begun. Look at you.” Cecile gestured to the dress Cate wore. “You’re dressed fashionably, your hair is done up by a lady’s maid. You’re drinking English tea from a Spode cup. You attended a ball and danced with gentlemen. These are things which will occur routinely in this new life you are embarking on”

  Cate stared blankly at Cecile. What was the woman getting at?

  Isabella broke in. “What Cecile is trying to say in a polite way is that these are ordinary behaviors in your new life and you are ill-equipped to deal with the most mundane of them. If you want to change your life, you must do so entirely. It is not enough to have a fine dress or any of the other outer trappings of a better life. You must change on the inside too. That means you must learn how to get on at a ball, how to pay an afternoon call, how to purchase your own wardrobe, how to lay out menus and organize the staff.

  “Giles tells us that he’s called for the vicar who can vouch for the identity issue and that it will take a month for him to arrive. That means we have only thirty days, more or less depending on the state of the roads, to teach you what you must know in order to get along.”

  So that was what the tea was about. For a moment Cate was stunned. She looked down at her hands, not feeling on the defensive for the first time since entering the room. “I don’t know what to say. I find your offer overwhelming and truthfully, I find it too generous. Why would you do this for me? I am a stranger at best and a potential enemy at worst, although I don’t mean to be”