Page 42 of Dared By a Lyon
Mrs. Dove-Lyon cleared her throat. “Bravo, my dear. You are wise to keep your thoughts to yourself. Your parents have a very enviable marriage. I recall their courtship well. They, too, began as friends.” Ashlyn didn’t miss the pointed smile the older woman gave to the Ashbourne ladies, and inwardly cheered. For some reason, she felt Mrs. Dove-Lyon could be counted on as an ally.
Lady Ashbourne glanced in the direction of her friend before turning back to Ashlyn with a tight smile. “Will you be joining us for a game of pall-mall later this afternoon?” she asked.
“Yes, my lady. That was my plan,” Ashlyn said, before taking a bite of her second cucumber sandwich. “These have an extra zest to them. Would you mind asking your cook if it’s lemon or lime that she uses, or both? I can’t quite tell. But I simply must share this recipe with our family’s cook.”
“Yes…I’ll be certain to ask,” Lady Ashbourne sputtered.
Score one for Elizabeth,thought Ashlyn, enjoying the last nibble of the sandwich.
“Mother, if you don’t mind, I need to be excused. I just remembered an important matter I need to take care of before the pall-mall games today,” Lady Paula said.
“Certainly, daughter. We’re just thrilled to have Miss Vickers here, so we can find out more about her.”
Ashlyn watched Lady Paula walk out the door and experienced what she realized was a pang of jealousy, wishing that it were she leaving.
“Oh, good! I’mglad you’re here so I don’t have to look for you,” Paula said, finding her brother loitering outside the parlor. “Because of your miserable failure last evening, I must resort to my backup plan. Watch the door, and if they break up in the next fifteen minutes, do whatever you must to distract her. Whatever you do, don’t let her go to her room.”
With that, Paula hurried up the stairs to the rooms where her mother had placed the guests. She’d tried the key last night, and it had worked. But as much as she had wanted to, she didn’t open the door last night for fear she’d be caught. Now, she knewPervis would be watching and making sure that Miss Vickers remained away from her room.
She hurried down the hall until she found the room assigned to Miss Vickers. It was not one of the nicer rooms—she’d seen to that, although if her cousin had come, they would have had to assign them to the larger, yellow room that was across from Lord Ravensthorpe. She’d kept that room empty, just in case she could lure him there. Her own room was down the hall from his. It had been agony waiting for him to return last evening after he and Miss Vickers had slipped from the drawing room where the partygoers were playing whist. And because of that shameful woman, Paula had taken her attention off her hand and lost. She never lost at anything. And she had no intention of losing at this.
Sliding the key into the lock, she listened for the click, then quickly opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. “There has to be something I can find on Miss Goody-Two-Shoes,” she whispered, tapping the key to her chin. “Everything was going my way until Mrs. Dove-Lyon insisted on inviting her friend’s daughter. I have to make certain that tall colonial leaves before she messes up everything and snags the man I have been yearning for, for years.”
Paula searched the room, opening drawers, sliding her hand under the mattress and pillows, even looking under the bed. Nothing. There was nothing she could find anywhere in the room.
Furious and frustrated that she couldn’t vent her anger with a good, loud shriek, she kicked the trunk. She hadn’t intended to cause any damage, but the trunk fell over, and the lid fell open—and a few small boxes and various other items tumbled out. “Oh no, now I’ve really made a mess. Pervis better keep the tart down there.”
She’d begun putting things back into the trunk when she noticed what looked like a small secret compartment that wasslightly open. “What have we here?” Pulling down on the panel, she gradually sprung the lock, opening it. She reached inside and withdrew a burgundy leather diary with the lettersAMembossed on it. Curious, she opened it to the pages in the back and began to read.
Minutes later, she smiled. “This will do nicely,” she said, stepping over pieces of Miss Vickers’s things and ignoring the spilled trunk as she walked to the door. “She’ll need the trunk open when she packs to leave, so I may as well leave it be,” she said, glancing back at the ransacked room.
With that, she exited the room and hurried to hers.
Chapter Eighteen
Just when Ashlynthought she wouldn’t be able to stand another ten minutes of Lady Ashbourne’s inane comments, the tea party ended. Although there was no way one could really call that aparty, as they often called them in America. It had felt more like an ambush. While she did enjoy the cucumber sandwiches—she’d clearly overindulged, nearly devouring them all, as well as the delicious egg sandwiches. In fact, she felt so sated that she could probably skip luncheon.
While Mrs. Dove-Lyon didn’t contribute to the tension during the tea, she didn’t try to help much, either. After her initial questions, she mostly sat there, content to let Lady Ashbourne pepper Ashlyn with questions about Boston and her brief visit to London. Ashlyn couldn’t help but feel the older woman’s shrewd gaze on her, as though she could somehow read her mind.
Based on the questions Lady Ashbourne and her irritating daughter had asked, it had become abundantly clear that her friendship with Gabriel was at the heart of the issue. It was as though the women were fishing for information. Clearly—as if any confirmation were necessary—the house party was merelyLady Ashbourne’s clever ruse to bring Lord Ravensthorpe and Lady Paula together.
Ashlyn was also certain that her initial suspicions had been correct: Her aunt’s letter to Mrs. Dove-Lyon had, of course, been intended to secure a noble match for Elizabeth, which was yet another reason Ashlyn could never hope for a future with Gabriel. Perhaps Mrs. Dove-Lyon had believed Gabriel and Elizabeth would make a good match. But little did either woman know that Lady Ashbourne and Lady Paula had other ideas.
Ashlyn’s heart twisted at the thought of Gabriel married to Lady Paula. Given what a shrieking shrew the woman was, Gabriel would have a miserable life.
After their tea, Ashlyn made her way through the main hall toward the central staircase to return to her room. As she walked, the hair at the back of her neck prickled, and she noticed blatantly obvious stares from several of the guests, making her more and more uncomfortable. The closer she got to the staircase, the more her hackles went up at clusters of men and women who were gaping at her or whispering and pointing. A few were reading from what looked to be torn pages from a journal…
“Imagine thinking the trees and grasses were whispering to you,” one woman said in a snide tone.
“Ha! More like laughing,” another said, her intentionally loud comment followed by several boisterous laughs.
Whispering trees and grasses? Oh no!Her stomach dropped, and a wave of heat surged up her neck and into her face until she was sure everyone could see her embarrassment. Sweat beaded at her brow. The laughter and insults seemed to amplify, and the walls of the room appeared to expand and contract, as if everyone were shouting and whispering at the same time. Ashlyn suddenly felt sick; she wanted to run, to hide, disappear—anything, but she couldn’t remain here.
Someone had found her diary. And they were sharing it with everyone. It was her worst nightmare. She’d always taken such great care to keep her innermost thoughts to herself, and now they were being discussed so crassly out in the open, it was as though they’d been printed in theTon Tattlerfor all to read. And then it got worse as several gasps and exclamations assaulted her ears as she finally reached the banister.
“Not only is she a vapid, stupid American, but she’s a liar too! She’s pretending to be her cousin, Miss Elizabeth Vickers, the daughter of one of the richest Americans.”
More shocked and angry gasps from every side came at her.
