Page 16 of Unmask Me My Love

“That’s what any woman would do to try to secure a man’s affections.” She flounced over to the chair he’d offered and sank down onto it, her brows lowered, her mouth pouting. “So what is it you wanted to speak to me about that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Something quite important.” Hal stepped swiftly to the door and closed it almost three quarters of the way. “That should preserve your honor and afford us a bit of privacy as well.”

“You think my courtship with Lord Finley isn’t important?” She glared at him. “Good evening, Lord Halford.” She gathered her shawl and pulled it over her shoulders, preparing to rise from the chair.

“I think it is just as important, but not quite as pressing at the moment, as my dilemma.” He returned and put a hand out to stay her. “Why do you and every other person living call me by my title when they are annoyed with me? Can you not muster anger while calling me Hal?”

“I suppose formality is its own form of censure.” Celinda relaxed into the chair and sighed. “So why have you called me here?”

“I discovered something shocking about Lady Chalgrove.”

At once Celinda leaned toward him. “Is it that she uses cosmetics and dyes her hair? Because I’ve heard rumors and I’ve seen her cheeks looking like a Gallica rose in bloom, but—”

“No, I have no knowledge whatsoever of whether her looks are natural or artificial.” Hal rolled his eyes. The inconsequential things ladies thought were important baffled him. “I do know, however, that she does not give her lady’s maid a single day or even half-day off.”

Celinda’s mouth puckered unbecomingly. “You’ve seen Miss D’Aventure again, I assume.” She shook her head. “I have not yet been able to contact Lord Rother to arrange a meeting. I’m sorry, but I’ve been rather busy trying to catch my own husband. That is what I’m supposed to be doing during the Season, not helping you with your amorous pursuits.”

“And I appreciate all your efforts, Celinda. But I have no one else I can turn to. No one else will be willing to help me because they do not understand me as you do.” He smiled, trying to beguile her in his most charming manner. “Anyone else would dismiss my plight as simple lunacy. A marquess masquerading as a valet to pursue a lady’s maid.”

“That, I grant you, is the truth.” She smiled unexpectedly. “You are uncommonly odd, Hal. And rash, as everyone will point out. But I do understand that not everyone is as stodgy as our fathers. I have been known to have my own viewpoint about certain things—like the gentleman I wish to marry—that is not in accord with what others would wish for me. Very well.” She sat up, looking at him expectantly. “What can I do to help?”

“Thank you, my dear.” Hal relaxed at last. He desperately needed Celinda as an ally. “I need you to help me come up with a way to goad lady Chalgrove into letting Gabriella have her Sunday afternoon off. I need to meet her in Hyde Park so I can attempt to ascertain who her father is and what her antecedents might be. If she’s got some type of proper lineage, my father can possibly be persuaded to agree to the marriage.”

Cocking her head, Celinda raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have any idea that Miss D’Aventure wants to marry you?”

The memory of that last kiss—hot passion erupting every moment her lips touched his—made him shudder and shift in his seat. “I do, my dear. Although I have not proposed, we shared a closeness that tells me her affections are engaged. Something she did not deny.”

“Very well, then.” Celinda furrowed her brows. “What would convince a woman like Lady Chalgrove that she should do something generous, such as let her maid have some time off?”

“Is there a way to make her think it would be to her advantage to do so?” Hal had no idea what that argument might be.

“Well, it might make people think her mean spirited if they knew the poor girl hadn’t had a day off in months.” Celinda looked at him, hopeful. “Social censure might be enough to change her mind.”

“But enough to make her act? And it would take too much time to work.” He needed to talk to Gabriella as soon as possible. What would make Lady Chalgrove insist on Gabriella having her Sunday afternoon free? “What about financial ruin?”

“I think that would be an excellent motivator.” Celinda shook her head. “But how would it ruin her to deny her maid time off?”

A broad smile spread across Hal’s face. “Can you tell a lie convincingly, Celinda?”

His cousin sat up straight, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So convincingly that Mama still doesn’t know who broke the hideous Chinese vase in the library.”

“Excellent.” Hal motioned her closer. “Can you ask your mother if you and she can pay a call on Lady Hamilton and Lady Chalgrove this week?”

Celinda nodded, her smile widening. “And then what?”

“And then you need to find a way to tell the woman this…”

Chapter 7

Sunday afternoon, promptly at three o’clock, Gabriella stood at the end of the Chinese Bridge in St. James’s Park, dressed in her best gown of blue striped muslin that she’d made for herself before she’d left France for England. She’d thought it would be the gown she wore when she met the duke, but she’d nothing else pretty enough to wear to see Horace today and so had donned it this afternoon after Lady Chalgrove had quite unexpectedly given her leave to go. What had Lady Celinda said to make madame give her the entire afternoon off? She’d have to ask Horace when he arrived.

She lifted her face, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Such a long time since she’d been free to do as she pleased. And today it pleased her very much to spend time with Horace. Thoughts of the handsome valet had been spinning around her head ever since she’d agreed to meet him today. Ever since she’d met him, to be truthful. Their kisses had touched her to her very soul. Not something that had ever happened to her before. But if things went well when she met with the Duke of Rother, all her dreaming about Horace must come to an end. She sighed. Almost she hoped Lady Celinda wouldn’t be able to arrange the introduction to the duke.

Almost.

“Good afternoon, Mademoiselle D’Aventure.”

She turned to find Monsieur Carpenter striding toward her, looking very handsome in his brown superfine suit and bowler hat. Her sharp eyes, always discerning when it involved clothing, took in the excellent cut of the coat, the richness of the fabric, and the jeweled pin tucked in his cravat. Horace was dressed more along the lines of his master than a valet. “Good afternoon, Monsieur Carpenter. Do I see that you have raided the marquess’s dressing room?”