The Mistress of Hanover Square

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.’

Gerard stared at him and then nodded. ‘You are right. Only a handful of my friends know about Lisa. So if the doll isn’t her…’ His gaze narrowed. ‘You don’t think—Amelia…?’

‘It makes more sense,’ Harry said. ‘Whoever sent this used a fashion doll, not a child’s toy. Amelia is an extremely elegant woman and it is more likely that the doll represents her. We suspect an attempt to kidnap her was made that summer at Pendleton. Max had an idea that the reason no further attempts were made to kidnap her was because you were no longer around.’

‘Yes, he mentioned something of the kind some months ago, but I did not think it possible. Good grief!’ Gerard was horrified. ‘You think they tried to abduct Amelia because they thoughtI might be about to ask her to marry me—and then I returned to France. Nothing happened while I was away, but now I am back…’

‘And you receive this warning.’ Harry looked concerned. ‘If that is the case, Amelia could be in grave danger.’

Gerard frowned. ‘She told me this morning that Miss Barton had asked her if her brother would benefit from her death. Apparently, he has been demanding that she hand over most of the fortune her greataunt left her.’

‘Is Royston such a brute?’ Harry pondered the question. ‘I do not know him well, but I would not have thought it. He might bully her into giving him money, but murder?’

‘Northaven?’

‘I am not sure that the murder of a woman is his style. He would be more likely to force a duel on you if he wished to pursue a quarrel.’

‘My thoughts entirely. It must be Royston—I can think of no one else who would be affected if she were to marry me.’

‘You cannot think of anyone who has cause to hate you?’

‘None that I know of,’ Gerard replied, but looked thoughtful. ‘Everyone makes enemies, but I cannot think of anyone who would wish to harm me or mine. Royston does not like me. He had me beaten when I asked for Amelia’s hand as a young man—but surely he has not harboured a grudge all this time? Besides, why harm his sister? If his quarrel is with me, why not have me shot? There are assassins enough to put a ball between my shoulders on a dark street.’

‘Royston had you beaten when you asked for Amelia?’ Harry’s brows shot up as Gerard nodded. ‘The scar at your temple! I knew something had happened but you never spoke of it…You have never sought retribution?’

‘How could I? Whatever happened, Royston is Amelia’s brother. I love her, Harry. I would do nothing to harm her. He has no reason to hate me that I know of—I swear it.’

‘Then this threat must have been made in order to gain control of her fortune,’ Harry said grimly. ‘If you marry her, he loses all chance of inheriting if she dies.’

‘Good grief! If I ask her to marry me, I could be signing her death warrant.’

‘And if you do not, she remains vulnerable,’ Harry pointed out. ‘You cannot allow this threat to alter your plans.’

‘I am damned whichever way I go!’ Gerard cursed. ‘I must arrange protection for her. She must be watched around the clock.’

‘And for yourself,’ Harry warned. ‘Do not shake your head, Gerard. You need someone to watch your back, my friend. I am not certain that we have reached the heart of this business. You need to investigate this affair immediately. I shall question my servants. Perhaps one of them may know something of the man who delivered that thing.’

Gerard had replaced the broken doll and closed the box. ‘The footman knew nothing, but someone else may have seen the messenger who delivered this thing. Any clue would be welcome, for at the moment I have little to go on.’

‘You know you may call on me for assistance?’

‘Yes, of course. Please say nothing of this to your wife or Amelia for the moment. I do not wish to throw a cloud over the celebrations this Christmas. Besides, I believe Amelia must be safe enough here for we are aware of the danger…’ He frowned. ‘Does it not strike you as odd that I was warned? If the rogue wants Amelia dead—why warn me of the possibility?’

‘Perhaps he simply wants to prevent you speaking to her?’

‘Perhaps…’ Gerard looked thoughtful. ‘Or someone else sent it to alert me to danger. Something puzzles me, Harry. I think there is more to this than we yet know, but I confess I have no idea what it may be.’

Amelia was thoughtful as she went upstairs to change. Speaking to Gerard confidentially had made her think about her situation. It was hard to think that her brother could mean her harm, but she could not deny that he had several times spoken to her in a manner that might be thought threatening.

Perhaps it would be sensible to take some precautions, though she would hate to think her life might be in danger. Of course, if she were married, her brother would have no hope of her fortune—which might be why he had several times made it plain that he would never agree to her marrying Gerard. She was her own mistress, of course. Michael must know that he could not stop her marrying whomsoever she wished.

Amelia looked out of her bedchamber and watched her companion walking towards the house. Emily Barton’s head was down and her manner one of thoughtfulness. She was quite alone.

Emily had a gentle beauty with her dark honey-blonde hair and blue eyes that were startling in a pale face. However, because of her modest manner and way of dressing, she was often thought unremarkable until she smiled, when she could look stunning. Amelia frowned, because of late Emily had seemed quieter than usual. She was clearly brooding.

Amelia suspected she knew what was troubling her. Emily had been scrupulous in confessing her shame when she applied for the position as Amelia’s companion.

‘I must tell you that I have a secret, Miss Royston.’ Emily had looked at her steadily. ‘Only my parents and a few servants knew, for my father did his best to hide my shame.’

‘Your shame—are you telling me that you have borne a child out of wedlock?’ Amelia had sensed it instinctively.

‘I…was forced,’ Emily told her, cheeks pale, eyes dark with remembered horror. ‘He was not my lover—but he held me down as he raped me, and, later, I knew that I would bear his child.’

‘My dear,’ Amelia cried. ‘It is shocking that men can be so vile. Please tell me what happened then.’

‘My father never believed that it was not my fault, but I swear to you that I am innocent of duplicity in this.’ Emily’s eyes brimmed with tears, though she did not weep. ‘If this makes me unacceptable as your companion…’

‘No, do not think it.’ Amelia smiled at her. ‘What you have told me makes me more determined to give you a home. You will live with me, meet my friends and learn to be happy again, my dear.’