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  “Only too well,” Hadleigh agreed. “But Sarah has no trouble dealing with Amabelle’s wayward behaviour.”

  Crandall stared hard at him.

  “Not that Amabelle has been misbehaving,” Hadleigh added.

  His look told Crandall Tarrant was wondering if the doctor had a grip on his sanity. ‘Haps I do not,” Crandall thought dejectedly. What can I hope to accomplish with Amabelle pursued by every polished young buck?

  “Amabelle is a very good sort,” Hadleigh said when the silence lengthened. “She seems much more mature than when I left Edgerton Manor.”

  I pray that is so or my suite is lost.

  “Here is the Pultney,” Hadleigh announced. “Let me help you with your packages.”

  “No, no. That’s not necessary.” The doctor stepped down and then accepted the rest of his packages saying, “If you see Sarah and Amabelle please do not tell them I have come to Town.”

  * * *

  That evening Hadleigh and André arrived at Lord and Lady Mandel’s fête too late to wish to be announced. The baron awaited with champagne when Hadleigh reached the third floor where the party was in progress.

  Tarrant scanned the room. He wryly noted couples dancing in the west end. His right foot still prevented any dancing.

  André motioned at a narrow-faced man who came from the card room. “Dear God, if Sidmouth is here it must be a dull affair.”

  “Leora will challenge you to a duel if you do not dance with her,” Hadleigh warned him with a small laugh. “She is convinced your attention will make her in society.”

  “There is Amabelle, dancing with a blasted 15th Hussar.”

  “Are you jealous of his uniform or of his companion?”

  “Something about a uniform attracts women,” André said, his slight grimace transformed into a wicked smile. “Broyal told me the 10th Hussars can hardly raise their arms with all the brick-a-brack Prinny added to his regiment’s uniforms.”

  André stiffened. “Leora is dancing with that Prussian we met in Hyde Park. How the devil did he secure an introduction?”

  “How did he come to be invited?” Hadleigh added.

  A young woman dressed in the first style halted before the two men. “André, what a pleasant surprise!” Maddie, Lady Broyal, greeted the baron. Her eyes twinkled. “I have lost Quentin to a Major Danbury. How long have you been in town?”

  “No little while,” de la Croix bowed. “Lady Broyal, you have heard me speak of this gentleman. Hadleigh Tarrant. Hadleigh, Maddie, Viscountess Broyal.”

  “Good evening, my lady, it is a pleasure. Thank you for returning my father’s pocket watch.”

  “Please, I am unaccustomed to being called my lady. Maddie suits me. I shall have to tell you how André helped Quentin rescue me.”

  “Your husband had the main part in that,” the baron interrupted. “And he comes to liberate you again.” He held out his hand. “Good eve, Broyal.”

  Viscount Broyal shook his hand. “De la Croix.

  “Major Lord Blake Danbury. We served during Moore’s campaign. Lord Blake, André Ribeymon, Baron de la Croix.”

  “My friend, Hadleigh Tarrant,” André added after he shook hands with the major.

  “Danbury has been with the 14th on the Peninsula. He has been telling me about their encounter with Victor at Talavera,” Broyal told them. “I will let him regale you with feats of glory while I dance with my wife. Excuse us gentlemen.”

  “André, please call on us soon,” Maddie said over her shoulder. “We are all in town.”

  “Your wish is my command, my lady,” he bowed.

  Danbury lifted a glass of champagne from a passing footman’s tray. “What did she mean by ‘all?’”

  “There are four other Vincouer’s—Maddie’s brother and sisters. Her Aunt Pricilla may also be with them. I think a cousin, Agatha Vincouer, is also still among the brood.”

  “I shall have to sort out that horde when I call on them on the morrow,” the major noted. “I arrived last night and have been occupied at the Horse Guards all day. Sidmouth insisted I come with him.” He watched Broyal and his lady.

  “You said Vincouer. Any relation to James Vincouer?”

  “Cousins. They feared for a time that he was dead.”

  “He is very much alive,” Danbury chuckled. “Did Broyal tell you how Vincouer and another lieutenant strapped him to a mule at Bembibre? He was unconscious, had been hurt earlier. Vincouer and Goodchurch saved his life.” Danbury frowned. “Pardon me, I become tiresome with such details.”

  “Excuse me for moment, André. Lord Blake.” Hadleigh headed for the chairs occupied by dowagers on the far side of the room.

  “Poor man,” Danbury quipped, “while he follows Ovid’s stricture to be where your quarry is,” he quoted The Art of Love, “he does a bloody poor job of being elusive at the same time.”

  André stared at Danbury, then at Hadleigh’s back. He sipped champagne. “Ovid, you say?” A mischievous glint appeared. “Danbury? The precocious Etonian?”

  “I was never precocious in my life.”

  “A shame. There was a translation of Ovid by a young Etonian some years back, but if you say it was not you—”

  “Who is the beauty approaching us?” Danbury interrupted. “Do you know her escort? What an overblown bearing.”

  “The lady is my sister,” de la Croix warned with a smile. “The gentleman I encountered only recently. A former captain in the Prussian army. Von Willmar as I recall.”

  André frowned at the proprietary look on the Prussian’s face but produced a charming smile for his sister as she floated up to him. “Good evening, my dear.” He took her hand and kissed her cheek. “Von Willmar. Lord Blake, Major Danbury, my sister Mademoiselle Leora Ribeymon and Mr. von Willmar.”

  “Good evening, Mademoiselle Ribeymon. Sir,” Lord Blake bowed to her escort then turned a melting smile on the young lady. “Please tell me there is at least one dance free on your card. I shall be heartbroken if there is not.” He sighed at her assessing speculation. “I daresay you know it is an Englishwoman’s duty to entertain an English soldier about to return to battle.”

  Leora gazed up at the tall, dapper officer with the scar running beneath his right eye and was intrigued. “There is one—if my brother will surrender his,” she answered.

  André read the warning she flashed. “As you wish, ma sœur.” As the pair walked away he turned to the Prussian. “Von Willmar, I did not know we would have the pleasure of your company this eve. How did you meet my sister?”

  “Miss Edgerton was kind enough to do the honours,” he explained. An unpleasant smile curled his lips. “Such a beautiful young lady. I thought you twins.”

  “Will you be in London long?”

  “An indefinite period.” Donatien glanced at Leora and Danbury dancing a gavotte. “But I must be off. An engagement.” He clicked his heels. “Until another day.”

  André watched the Prussian disappear down the stairs. Something about him niggled at the edge of his mind. He went after Hadleigh intent on discussing the man.

  Tarrant saw Sarah and Elminda entrenched among the dowagers. He wished he had even a quarter of Danbury’s address. Leaning against a pillar he studied Sarah. She lacked colour, her eyes wore dark circles, and she appeared nervous. Sarah is as upset now as she was in the Park. Why?

  “Tarrant, old fellow, didn’t know you were in town,” boomed Freddy Pinlar. “Checking out the widow Edgerton? Didn’t know you needed blunt.”

  “Pardon me?” Hadleigh choked out.

  Too foxed to catch the warning in his look, Pinlar laughed. “Well past her better days if she ever had any, but in the dark they are all the same, ehh?” Freddy snorted.

  Hadleigh grabbed Pinlar’s lapels and pulled him behind the pillar. He slammed him against it and put his cane across the man’s neck. “Do not ever speak thus of Lady Edgerton again. Understand me?” he snarled.

  Deathly white, Pinlar quaked at the hawkish t
hreat.

  André placed a hand on Hadleigh’s shoulder. “Steady,” he said and pulled back the cane that choked Pinlar.

  Hadleigh blinked and released him.

  Pinlar clutched his throat. At the flick of André’s lace, he scuttled away.

  Scrutinizing Hadleigh, André could hardly believe his always-in-control friend’s actions. “What in the hell was that about? You are as prickly as a devil’s coach horse.”

  “He spoke ill of Sarah—Lady Edgerton,” Hadleigh ground out. “I should have called him out.”

  “Hadleigh, consider the lady. Thank God the column shielded you from the women.”

  Chagrin at his impetuosity filled Hadleigh. He had thought of nothing but silencing the cur.

  “Are you all right?” André asked.

  Hadleigh took his cane and stalked away.

  “Mr. Tarrant,” Amabelle chimed a moment later. “I have saved a dance.” She noticed his cane and took his arm. “But would you mind very much if we sit for a time?”

  Hadleigh managed a smile. It was all he could do not to look past Amabelle to Sarah.

  “Aunt Elminda is such a bear.”

  “And you are being your usual angelic self?”

  “I have no choice. No one will play piquet.”

  Sarah watched Hadleigh and Amabelle chat and laugh as they walked away. She thought about that June night before Hadleigh left Edgerton. That sleepless night she had remembered with heart-chilling dread how George had entered the inn after Hadleigh. How she had revealed him to the man.

  Sarah blinked back tears. If only I could take those words back. I never meant to betray Hadleigh.

  Near the bottom of the Mandel’s grand staircase, von Willmar lounged against the banister. When Michael Leonard entered he descended the last few steps. “Good eve, Mr. Leonard. It is good you arrive late. It is a dull evening.”

  “I say who—eh, gad, the Prussian fellow.”

  “Berthold von Willmar, at your command.”

  Leonard gazed at the elegant gentleman. The large ruby pin in his cravat caught his jealous eye. “Dull, you say?”

  “Yes, I have decided to find more diverting entertainment. I am particularly interested in games of chance. Perhaps you could direct me?”

  Leonard looked up the stairs.

  “Your sister expects you. Pardon me.”

  “I don’t dance attendance on her,” the young man protested.

  Donatien took in his red-rimmed eyes and cuffs that had been turned. “If you would be so gracious as to attend me, I will stake you for the evening.” He smiled at the glint in Leonard’s eyes. “A gift, of course.”

  “It would be unkind to let you be taken by the sharps,” Leonard said. “I know a hell out of the usual way where gambling can prove very worthwhile.”

  “Then by all means, let us go,” Donatien said. “If you are certain your sister will not be disappointed.”

  Delighted with this new prospect, Michael said, “I’ll call on her on the morrow.”

  * * *

  The hour was late when Hadleigh saw Lady Juliane and Sarah stroll in his direction. Frustrated by Amabelle’s lack of answers about why her stepmother looked so wan or about Hale, he decided on a direct approach.

  When the two women came abreast, Hadleigh joined them just as the Earl of Tretain did. After the introductions, Hadleigh put a hand on Tretain’s elbow. “My lord, your wife has waited all eve to dance with you. I shall escort Lady Edgerton back to her seat,” Hadleigh said, and offered Sarah his arm.

  With a weak smile, Sarah accepted it and the older couple joined the dancers.

  “Good eve, Sarah.”

  She looked up and Hadleigh’s heart lurched. What the devil? Why would she be afraid of me?

  “I—I—Are—Are you well, sir?” Sarah blurted. She hated that heat flooded her cheeks.

  “Am I well?”

  His incredulity helped Sarah regain control. She assumed a stolid mask. “It has been quite rainy, has it not?”

  “Rainy?”

  “Come, come, Tarrant,” de la Croix intruded. “You have been in the wilds of Norfolk too long if that is the sum of your conversation.”

  Cursing beneath his breath, Hadleigh glared at him.

  “Lady Edgerton, good eve,” the baron said with a kind smile. “I have only been able to dance once with your stepdaughter.” He tilted his head toward his friend. “I do hope Tarrant explained to her that his right foot prevents his dancing.”

  “I—I am certain he did.” Sarah stepped back. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” She nodded and hurried away, relieved to escape.

  Hadleigh glared at André. “You have the timing of an ox.”

  “You have the delicacy of one. Could you not see the lady was upset?”

  “I know that. I had hoped to learn why.”

  “Then you went about it the wrong way,” André snorted. “Why such interest in the lady?”

  “Need I remind you that she saved my life? That puts me in her debt—even you should understand that,” Hadleigh snapped and strode away.

  André stared after him. What is bothering him?

  Chapter Sixteen

  London October 11, 1809 Wednesday

  Amabelle threw down her embroidery and hastened to Darton when he carried in a floral arrangement in an ornate gold vase. She plucked the white envelope nestled amid the pink roses. Then she stalked to Sarah, seated beside the fire, and thrust the envelope under her nose.

  “It is for you,” she said. Her voice dripped with pique.

  Sarah took the note, her eyes on the gold vase of lush pink buds. Hadleigh knows I love pink roses.

  “Oh,” she said and handed it to her stepdaughter.

  “Michael.” Amabelle plopped down on the settee. “Perhaps he does regret his horrid behaviour, Stepmama.”

  Elminda entered the salon. She beamed at the roses. “I just knew you would be a triumph, Amabelle. Are they from Mr. Tarr? He was very attentive last eve.”

  “They are for Stepmama. From Uncle Michael.”

  Disapproval dimmed Elminda’s pleasure. “Why?” she demanded. “Have you taken care of his debts yet again?”

  Sarah was displeased but unsurprised her sister-in-law knew how matters stood with Michael. “That is my concern. But, no, I have not.”

  “I should hope not. Rufus would—”

  “Aunt Elminda,” Amabelle distracted her. “I have a knot in my thread and you are so good at undoing them. Could you?” she asked with an entreating smile and held out her embroidery.

  Sarah mouthed, “Thank you,” then looked back at the roses. What was Michael’s purpose?

  A draft drew all eyes to the salon door. Michael stood on the threshold, his posture abject.

  Sarah strove not to frown at a look she had seen far too many times.

  A petulant gleam flickered and then was gone. He gave a placating smiled as he approached Sarah.

  Elminda loudly hrumped at his poor manners when he did not greet everyone, but interested, held her tongue.

  “Come, sister, say you forgive me?” Michael went to the roses. Touching one, he complained, “Von Willmar said they would be the thing to win you around. Come, Sarah. You know what I am when I lose my temper.”

  The puffiness and redness of his eyes bespoke a late eve and, in all probability, gaming losses. She frowned.

  “Then I must earn my way back into your good graces. Shall I begin by escorting all of you to the theatre? I have a box for Friday’s performance at Covent Garden.”

  Amabelle’s disapproval metamorphosed into excitement. “Oh, Stepmama, say we may go.”

  Sarah looked at Michael and wondered how he could suddenly afford such a luxury. She saw her stepdaughter’s happy anticipation and Elminda’s disapprobation. “Give your word there will never be a repetition of your behaviour.”

  “The easiest thing,” Michael assured her.

  Because Sarah saw their father in him, she accepted his reassurance. Her misg
ivings remained.

  “Then we should make a party of it,” Leonard said with a grand gesture. “Von Willmar will accompany us.”

  Sarah frowned at this presumption, but seeing Elminda’s sudden delight, demurred an objection.

  Darton appeared at the salon door. “Mr. Crandall.”

  Gilmar Crandall strode in, his eyes twinkled with unusual glee at their surprise. “Is no one happy to see me?”

  “Of course,” Sarah said with a warm smile. “Would you, by chance, be free Friday eve?”

  “I have not been in London long enough to do aught but secure a room at the Pultney,” the doctor assured her.

  “Michael?” Sarah hinted.

  Her brother concealed a frown. “Of course.”

  “Then Gil, you shall go to Covent Garden with us.

  “Michael, what time would you suggest?” she asked.

  Recalling the recent problems with the protests of the new higher prices, Michael said, “We should leave around five. “But, really,” he objected, “I hardly think there will be room for all of us.”

  “I shall hire a carriage for the evening,” Crandall told him. “It sounds like great fun.”

  “Yes,” Sarah agreed. “Like the Covent Garden stories you have told me of your youth before you became serious.”

  Taken aback by this aberration to her notion of his life, Amabelle asked, “You once lived in London?”

  “I was not breeched a doctor in Sussex,” he chided.

  “I will leave you to your discussion,” Leonard said. “Until tomorrow, Sarah. Amabelle.” He turned to Elminda.

  “Miss Edgerton, von Willmar was particularly interested that you attend.”

  Elminda blushed and wished him a pleasant day.

  With Michael gone, Crandall asked, “Von Willmar?”

  “A new acquaintance,” Amabelle told him with a too-bright smile. “We met him in Hyde Park where Mr. Tarrant, I mean Mr. Tarr—” Seeing the doctor’s gaze go to Sarah, she hurried on. “We met Baron de la Croix and Mr. von Willmar there.”

  “He is a considerate gentleman. He replaced Amabelle’s ruined feather,” Elminda added.

  “Feather?” puzzled Crandall.