Page 37

T he consequence of Piers’s meeting with Mrs. Dove-Lyon was that he must take Belinda on a short journey, as soon as he received a note with the date and directions. Thus it was that a few weeks after that meeting, Piers called upon his betrothed for a jaunt in the phaeton.

It was a bright day in early summer, full of promise of the warmth to come.

Piers helped Belinda into the phaeton, tucked a rug over her lap purely for the pleasure of touching her, and opened her parasol against the harsh sunlight.

His good humor and optimism had returned, but there was still one final puzzle to be solved before he could be truly happy.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon had instructed him to take Belinda to a village church on the northern outskirts of London, not far off the Chelmsford and Colchester Road.

He must ask after the parish clerk on arrival, and request a specific parish register.

No reason had been given, despite his best efforts to persuade Mrs. Dove-Lyon to reveal her purpose.

It was difficult to tell what the lady was thinking or feeling, but he had a distinct suspicion during the interview that smug was the best word to describe her.

Although he’d told Belinda of their destination, he’d not yet shared the rest of his conversation with Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

His betrothed thought they were just going on a pleasant outing together, to a spot recommended by the owner of the Lyon’s Den.

“I can’t imagine anything more delightful than driving with you in the countryside on a day such as this.”

Belinda was positively blooming, despite the dark cloud that had hung over their nuptials since the threatening letter from Charlotte.

Even though Belinda was so certain that the boy, Oliver, was not his, Piers was conflicted.

For so many years he’d thought he had an heir, how was he now to accept that he didn’t?

“I hope you’ll enjoy it, my love. But I don’t trust Mrs. Dove-Lyon not to have some nasty surprise in store for us. Why else would she send us to Little Ongar?”

Belinda twinkled up at him. “I’m feeling full of hope today.

In the brief time I was in that lady’s employ—despite the fact she was blackmailing me—I discovered her to be a very reliable person.

She does nothing without reason. I cannot imagine for one moment that she means to punish us when Roland and I have already done penance for our crimes. ”

Piers switched the reins to one hand and took hold of Belinda’s gloved hand. “This is why I keep you by me, you see. You drive away the dark thoughts that plague me. I’m so grateful we’ve escaped without a chaperone—your sister and husband have been very understanding.”

“And so they should be! Araminta admitted she was a hypocrite, chastising me for trying to use the Lyon’s Den to find a husband when she’d done the same thing.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon played a significant part in her marriage.

She changed Aylsham’s dislike of Minty to adoration, and made Minty fall in love with him, despite us both detesting the man.

How ever did she manage such a miracle?”

Piers chuckled. “Some secrets are best left hidden.” He squeezed Belinda’s hand, then returned his attention to his horse as a large equipage piled with badly loaded luggage rumbled into their path.

“I know something about Mrs. Dove Lyon that will entertain you.”

Belinda sat forward excitedly, then relaxed back, tipping her chin up. “I’m soon to be a respectfully married woman. I have no intention of listening to gossip, or passing it on.”

“There’s no point in bamming me, Belinda—I’m working hard to ensure I know you better than anyone else. I know you’ll want to hear this —the lady takes the credit for having brought us together.”

Belinda sat forward again, her mouth gaping. “She does? The cheek! We found each other, didn’t we?”

“She considers that you’ve paid for her services by working in her kitchen, improving the knowledge of the cook, the potboys, and the maids. You have also left them with some delicious soup recipes, which she says are attracting additional clientele to the Lyon’s Den.”

“She certainly never said that I was paying her for anything. How very underhand.”

He laughed again. “I think underhand is her watchword. But never mind that. She told me that she’s aware of our difficulties and that she won’t let our match be challenged.

When Charlotte’s letter was delivered to the Lyon’s Den, Mrs. Dove-Lyon had young Tom Haggar follow the messenger.

The lad tracked him to the boarding house where Charlotte and the boy are staying. ”

Piers didn’t use the name Oliver anymore.

Now he was ninety-nine percent certain that the child was not his, the name was of no importance.

The boy was Charlotte’s son. Did he want to know who the father was?

Probably not. Particularly if the father was bedding Charlotte at the same time Piers was head-over-heels in love with her.

Belinda’s face was solemn, her blue eyes large with concern. She was surely the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and his heart somersaulted.

“Whoa there!” He just managed to avoid a water carrier crossing the road. Deuce take it—he hadn’t realized just how distracting driving out with Belinda would be.

“So, what happened then? Did she tell you?”

“It seems that Mrs. Dove-Lyon has communicated with Charlotte directly. I don’t yet know what occurred, but I’ve been assured that Charlotte won’t stand in our way and she’ll make no further claim that the boy was fathered by me.

I’m sorry to have to drag my wretched past out again—I hate to discomfit you, my beloved. ”

She touched him lightly on the arm. “No matter. I’ve been in dark places too, remember? I’m learning how to deal with things that are often best left hidden.”

“I learned nothing further. Mrs. Dove-Lyon just gave me the name of this church, and the address where the parish clerk is to be found, then told me she’d be happy to host a special dinner for yourself and your lady friends soon after our wedding.

So, it seems that she, at least, has no doubt of our plans coming to fruition. ”

“I do love a good party. Not that I have many lady friends, but I’m sure Araminta can lend me a few of hers. Perhaps your mama could come—it would be lovely to get to know her better.”

Piers shook his head. “I don’t think so, my dear. She would tan my hide—regardless of the fact that I’m now twice her height—for taking her into a gambling hell, even one renowned for its honesty.”

“A pity. It would open her eyes, would it not?”

“There are some things a son prefers to keep to himself. Anyway, I’m to be involved in the party somehow, along with Roland and a couple of other gentlemen—no idea yet what Mrs. Dove-Lyon has in store for us.”

“It must be infuriating working for somebody who’s so mysterious all the time.

Perhaps we’ll find out more once Caroline’s married to Mr. Starveling.

She can press him for information, can she not?

And since he’s leaving the Lyon’s Den to work on our veterans’ hospital, he no longer owes her his silence. ”

“Once again, I admire your optimism, Belinda. I suppose we may learn something—only I recall you once saying that you weren’t interested in gossip.” He raised a stern eyebrow.

“Don’t tease me! You’re making me laugh and pull faces, and I don’t want to do that when people are watching us.”

“Are they?” He’d been lost in a world that contained only himself and Belinda.

Dragging his gaze away from her enchanting features, he realized they were drawing admiring glances.

It wasn’t just a case of the men looking enviously at the phaeton—they were looking admiringly at Belinda, while their wives glanced at him.

“Let them look. And make whatever face you want, my darling. We’re going to be married next week and become the epitome of respectability. Out-of-doors at least, when we are under public scrutiny. I can’t promise to be respectable in the bedchamber, and I hope you won’t be, either.”

“Do be quiet, Piers. I’m blushing and people are staring even harder.”

A pity, as he loved to tease her. “I’ll desist for the moment. This is the Ilford Road, so we’ll soon be away from the gossiping tabbies of the ton and surrounded instead by bucolic people and scenery.”

Piers spent the next hour joyfully making plans for their joint future and trying to keep his eyes on the road instead of on Belinda.

If anyone had told him he could fall so heavily in love, he wouldn’t have believed them.

But now, Belinda colored his entire world—his past, his present, his future.

She mattered more than anything, and she held his heart in her delicate little hands.

A part of him knew he was deeply unworthy of her love, and he must devote every hour to making himself worthy.

Fortunately, they had a lifetime in which to do it.

“Belinda.” He nudged her gently where she lay dozing against his shoulder. “We have arrived at Little Ongar. Do you feel like a brief respite at the inn before we discover whatever revelation the parish clerk has for us?”

She sat up and looked around, blinking her eyes sleepily. “I don’t know. Oh, what a pretty village. It must be lovely to live close enough to London to be civilized, and far enough away to avoid its disadvantages.”

Piers was gratified that she waited for him to lift her down from the carriage. It wasn’t necessary, because her ankle had made a complete recovery, but he adored the feel of her in his arms, the sensuous slide of her body against his before he released her.

He retrieved the directions from his pocket and tried to get his bearings while Belinda took in their surroundings.

“I assume this is the correct church. Such a charming spot! I love those yew hedges and the roses rambling over the lychgate. I almost wish we were being married here instead of in London. Could we have a quick look round and then go to the inn?”

“You know I can refuse you nothing. Besides, it would be good to stretch our legs.” Piers tucked the paper away and strode across to the inn to make arrangements for the horse to be stabled and the phaeton taken into the cobbled yard.

Belinda waited beneath the lychgate when he returned, the golden halo of her hair framed by the roses that cascaded on either side of her, and for a moment, he was spellbound.

Offering up a silent vow of thanks to the gods who had smiled on him, he took his future wife’s hand in his and led her into the churchyard.

As they walked along the gravel path between the green mounds of the dead, it seemed as if time was suspended, and a solemn silence descended over the sacred space. He moved forward, as if in a dream, and then discovered that he and Belinda were not alone.

Someone else was visiting the graveyard that day. A woman, brightly dressed in green with an elaborate turban and paisley shawl, stood with her back to them, staring down at a grave. Her presence struck a discordant note, and Piers pulled Belinda to a halt.

The stranger immediately spun around, then stood stock-still, staring at them.

Only... this was no stranger. All the golden glory fled from the day as Piers stared back. What treachery was this? What cruel trick had Mrs. Dove-Lyon played upon them?

“I don’t believe it!” Belinda’s hand clenched on his sleeve.

The woman jerked into movement, taking a step toward them.

Piers had expected an internal battle of feelings and emotions when he saw this woman again. What he had not expected was the white-hot fury that raged through his veins.

He took several deep breaths before he felt calm enough to speak. “Belinda—I believe you’ve already met Miss Charlotte Lavoisier?”