Page 25 of Only Pleasure Will Do

Chapter 11

Th sun hadn’t reached its apex by the time Amorina’s carriage pulled up to the front steps of Dunham House in London. The house where she’d been held was scarcely an hour outside London. The thought gave her comfort. If, by some miracle, she could devise a plan to rescue Pearl and Reginald without assassinating Lord and Lady Dalbury, the distance to cover to affect that rescue was far less than she’d originally believed.

Hooves rang on the cobblestone drive that led up to the front of the grand house, and the coachman slowed before the stately gray marble arches behind which a steep staircase rose to the immense front doors. The lion’s head knocker gleamed in the sun. She’d been escorted through those doors once last autumn, when Lady Dalbury had asked her to attend her sister-in-law, Lady Juliet Morley. She might indeed gain admittance this way today, if the servants recalled her previous visit. But her gaze fell on the satchel at her feet and she shook her head. She couldn’t carry this possible death and destruction through the front entrance. Ludicrous as it might sound, her morality wouldn’t allow her to betray the Dalburys in the guise of equals or friends.

She stood and rapped on the trap. “Drive around to the mews. I will go through the servant’s entrance.”

“Mr. Redmond said to put you out here,” came the recalcitrant reply.

“Mr. Redmond isn’t in charge now. I will not be given admittance to the house through this door. If you force me to disembark here and walk all the way around the house to the servant’s entrance, you will very likely be thwarting the timing of your master’s plan.” She pushed the trap open and glared at the surly coachman. “Do you really want to be the one who makes his plans go awry?”

Lips drawn into a straight line, he slammed the trap down, called to the team, and the carriage started with a jerk, throwing Amorina back against the seat as the horses moved off.

Lout. If she hadn’t needed to focus on the task at hand, she would’ve made the man regret his insolence. As it was, she must rehearse what she would say in order to gain admittance to the house and speak with Lady Dalbury. A chill raced down her back. She’d betrayed the woman once—putting her up on the auction block at the House of Pleasure to be bought by the highest bidder—and even though that had turned out well in the end, she still regretted doing Tommy Redmond’s bidding on that occasion. And here she was, betraying the woman again, once more at her previous lover’s behest. If she could make this encounter end as well as the other, she would fall to her knees and thank God.

The carriage pulled to a halt at the back of the mews, where deliveries were usually brought. Much more fitting and inconspicuous. She didn’t wish to draw undue attention to herself. After a moment, when lack of movement from the coachman suggested he would not be assisting her from the carriage, she opened the door herself. Clambering down the three steps, Amorina glanced about, familiarizing herself with the layout of the servants’ area. The kitchen garden lay to the left of the door, neat rows of tender, young sprigs just pushing through the dirt. To the right stood a shed and a covered path that likely led to the stables. Directly behind her, a stone arch gave onto a geometrically sculpted formal garden.

Not a soul seemed to be stirring, so Amorina removed the infernal portmanteau from the carriage and straightened her shoulders. She still had no idea what she would say to Lady Dalbury, if she could meet with her. Her stomach churned, making her slightly nauseated. Could she really make herself go through with Redmond’s hellish scheme? The horror of what she’d been sent to do washed over her, making her heart beat frantically and her fingers grow cold as they clutched the handle of the satchel. Killing innocent people who trusted her might require more fortitude than she could muster. She gripped the valise and thrust that thought aside.

No, she must think only of Pearl. And Reginald, although if she succeeded in her task, he would likely despise her forever, even though he knew she had no other choice. Of course, if all went according to plan, she would never see him again.

Or would she? Quite suddenly, a horrible notion occurred to her. If Redmond did let Reginald live, he might be the magistrate before whom she would be brought and charged with the murders of the marquess and marchioness. She stood frozen on the gravel drive, anguish ripping her asunder as she envisioned Reginald behind the magistrate’s desk, his eyes cold with hatred, hearing him pronounce the sentence of death for her. Her stomach twisted so violently she feared she would be ill. She squeezed the grip of the satchel until the spasm passed. Taking deep breaths to help dispel the dreadful vision, she willed herself to remain calm then stepped away from the carriage. There had to be some other course of action she could take that would save her and her child, although she’d been unable to think of anything that was not ludicrously farfetched on the drive into London.

With reluctant steps, Amorina forced herself toward the house. As she approached, her heart shifted from the slow lub lub it had momentarily regained to hammering so fast she could scarcely catch her breath. She swallowed hard and stepped up to the plain brown door. Clutching the dastardly valise in her left hand so hard her knuckles ached, she rapped on the wooden panel.

A moment later, the door flew open, and a young maid appeared, smiling broadly. However, when she saw Amorina, her eyes widened and the smile disappeared. Apparently, she’d been expecting someone else. Or had recognized Amorina, although that possibility seemed remote.

“Can I help you, miss?” The girl sounded doubtful as she took in Amorina’s rumpled appearance.

“I need to speak with Lady Dalbury on a matter of some importance.” The words sounded like a line from a Drury street drama.

“Do you… I don’t…” Looking more and more flustered, the girl said, “Let me get Mrs. Barton,” and shut the door in Amorina’s face. As she’d suspected, gaining an audience with Lady Dalbury wouldn’t be easy. She shifted uneasily as she waited, glancing around the yard, which remained quiet.

At last the door opened, revealing an austere woman dressed in black. She wore a grim expression, and Amorina tightened her grip on the valise. “Mrs. Barton. So nice to see you again.”

The woman frowned then her eyes widened. “It’s Madam Vestry, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs. Barton. I’m surprised you remember me.”

“Of course I do.” The woman’s gaze took her in much as the maid had. “I took you upstairs in November when you came to see Lady Juliet. Won’t you come in, Madam Vestry? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

Touched by the woman’s deferential manner, when she had no good cause to treat her so, Amorina faltered. “Th…thank you, Mrs. Barton. I appreciate your kind offer very much, but I cannot accept. I must speak with Lady Dalbury as soon as possible. Is her ladyship in?”

“Well, she is and she’s not, Madam Vestry. Not to sound mysterious, mind you.” The housekeeper smiled and gestured behind Amorina. “Lady Dalbury is in the garden at the moment. She often sits out in the afternoon, especially if the day is fair. Shall I send a footman to tell her you have come to call?”

Despite the housekeeper’s apparent delusion that having the owner of a brothel call upon her mistress was a normal occurrence at Dunham House, Amorina could not help but be impressed by the woman’s courtesy. “If I may, perhaps it would be best if I met her ladyship outside.” Meeting Lady Dalbury in the relative seclusion of the garden would be better than in a sitting room where hundreds of ears might be listening to their every word. “I would not wish to rob her of her time in the sun.”

“Of course, Madam Vestry.” Mrs. Barton stepped out onto the back stoop and pointed down the wide pathway, lined by slender evergreens. “If you walk down the main pathway just there, you will come to a statue of Cupid. Turn to the right and follow that path toward the fountain. There you should find her and Lord Tolliver.”

Amorina froze. She could not complete her task, or discover a way to keep from doing so, if Lady Dalbury was with another person. Curse her luck. “Has Lord Tolliver been with her long?” Perhaps the man had spent the morning and would be moving along soon.

“Almost a month now.” Mrs. Barton beamed, taking Amorina aback. “She dotes on him so much she scarcely wants him out of her sight. They’ve been out in the garden today for almost an hour, although others, me included, have said it will be too much for him.”

Was Tolliver sickly? And why was Lady Dalbury so taken with the gentleman? Lord Dalbury, as she remembered all too well, was quite a jealous man. “Lord Tolliver is not well?”

“Oh, no, Madam Vestry.” The woman shook her head vehemently. “The wee chap is right as rain. But you cannot keep a babe out in the elements so long and not expect him to come down with croup.”

“Wee chap… Oh!” Dear God. Lady Dalbury had her son with her in the garden. What must she do? The very last thing Amorina wanted was to take the explosive anywhere near the child. Despite Mr. Redmond’s assurances, she would rather not put her faith in that untrustworthy blackguard. “Perhaps I shouldn’t disturb her after all.”