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The Bertrams’ rented town house in Wilton Crescent wasn’t far from Dartmoor House in Belgravia Square; it meant Artemis would only need to make a slight detour on her way back to Aunt Roberta’s town house. If she was going to quit London, she really had to let Lucy know that she wouldn’t be able to accompany her to functions over the next week.
As soon as she stepped through the Bertrams’ front door, Lucy appeared and then straightaway ushered Artemis into the drawing room at the front of the house. “I’m so glad you got here so quickly,” her friend said without preamble. “I only sent a note to Cadogan Square fifteen minutes ago.”
It was then that Artemis noticed how pale Lucy’s complexion was and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.
Prickles of alarm spiked inside her. “My darling friend, what’s wrong?” She touched Lucy’s arm. “Why, you’re shaking. What’s happened?”
Lucy swallowed. “I…I’m not exactly sure, but something terrible has happened. Between Papa and Monty. They had a horrible argument late last night.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve. “I’m sorry. It’s all been so stressful and awful.”
“Here, come and sit down.” Artemis led her over to a plump sofa by the bow window. “I’m here to listen to anything you want to tell me.” If Lucy needed her, she wouldn’t be going to Devonshire tomorrow.
Lucy emitted a watery laugh that was more of a hiccup. “I wish therewasmore to tell. All I know is that after Papa and I returned from the theater, I retired to my rooms to get ready for bed. Not long after that, there was a burst of dreadful shouting. When I opened my door, I could hear it was Monty and Papa, but when I approached Monty’s room, Papa came out and ordered me back to my own bedchamber. I-I’ve never seen him so angry. And this morning…” Lucy dabbed her eyes. “Monty was gone. And he hasn’t returned home. And I’m worried that he won’t.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Lucy. Perhaps Monty has gone to stay with a friend until things calm down?”
“Perhaps. There are things missing from his wardrobe and dressing table. Some clothes and a valise. His pocketbook. His shaving set. According to his valet, at least. The worst thing is, Papa refuses to talk to me. I have no idea what the argument was about. But itissomething terrible because…” Lucy reached for Artemis’s hand. “I feel just awful telling you this, Artemis, but Papa wants us to quit London at once and return to Heathwick Green. He’s declared my Season is over, and Cousin Mabel is to go home to Shropshire. In fact, I’ve been packing all afternoon and we’re leaving first thing in the morning.”
Goodness…“I can’t deny that I’m surprised, and I’m nothing but saddened to hear your brother and father are estranged. But in a way, I’m also greatly relieved for you, Lucy. You never wanted a Season to begin with, let alone a husband.”
“That’s true, but, Artemis, you quit your post at the Avon Academy because of me. You’ve only been in London a few weeks, and now I’m effectively desertingyou. I feel so guilty. I’m a terrible, selfish friend.”
“Oh, no, you’re not, my darling Lucy. And don’t you dare feel guilty. I don’t regret resigning from that academy at all. It was time for me to move on, and now, because of my engagement to Dominic, I will have my college.” Both Lucy and Jane knew about her quid pro quo arrangement with the duke, and they were nothing but supportive of her decision to consent to an engagement of convenience.
Lucy’s mouth trembled with a smile. “Are you certain?”
“I most definitely am. Truth to tell, the reason I came by was to let you know that I will be quitting London tomorrow too. But only for a week.” Artemis filled her friend in on what had transpired at Dartmoor House during the afternoon and that Dominic had asked her to accompany him to Ashburn Abbey to help with Celeste. “As soon as I return, I will come to visit you at Heathwick Green. It’s not far.”
“Oh, but that’s wonderful.” Lucy squeezed Artemis’s hand. “Not about the duke’s difficulties with his daughter. But it does sound as though your fiancé can’t bear to be without you.” Her expression turned sly. “Are yousureyou don’t want to marry him?”
Artemis laughed. “Entirely sure. He might be handsome and generous and wonderful company, but we want different things. It will never work.”
Lucy didn’t look convinced, but nevertheless, she didn’t say anything else. They bid each other a fond farewell along with more promises to meet again soon, and then Artemis set out for home.
As she entered Cadogan Square, she caught sight of a young woman being handed down from a smart-looking cabriolet that had drawn up in front of Aunt Roberta’s town house.Phoebe.
And then Artemis froze, rooted to the spot when she glimpsed the gentleman who escorted her sister to the door.
Old Nick’s nob. It couldn’t be…
Artemis’s stomach pitched and then all but plummeted to the ground.
It was none other than Lord Gascoyne.
He bid Phoebe a far-too-familiar farewell that involved a kiss upon her cheek while a sly hand curled about her waist, and then he sauntered back to his carriage, whistling a jaunty tune. As he leaped back into the seat, Artemis started forward. Ice-cold fury frosted her voice as she called, “Lord Gascoyne, a word.” How she’d managed to use his real name and not some variation on “disgusting-vile-swine-who-should-be-castrated-with-a-blunt-fish-knife,” she didn’t know.
He turned and his mouth lifted into an infuriatingly smug smile. “Why, Miss Jones. Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”
“Yes, about as pleasant as discovering an enormous spider in one’s shoe,” she returned. “What in the devil’s name are you doing courting my sister?”
“And why shouldn’t I? She’s rather fetching, amiable company, and of age.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “I’m not sure if she’s quite as amorous as you just yet, but we’ll see.”
Artemis clenched her fists to stop herself pummeling him with her reticule. “You’re contemptible…” she hissed. “Stay away from her. Or I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Go running to yourcontemptiblefiancé? A man who just happened to murder my sister? I don’t think he has any moral high ground to stand on. Or you for that matter, Miss I’ll-drop-my-drawers-for-the-chance-of-a-title-or-fortune.”
Artemis ignored the crude insult. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded in a furious whisper. “And why choose Phoebe? There are hundreds of other eligible young women in London you could chase after. Or should I say defile and betray?”
He smirked as he took his horse’s reins from the liveried tiger who stood at attention at the back of the cabriolet. “Ah, but where would be the fun in that? Au revoir, my dear Artemis.” And then he tipped his hat in a mocking salute, flicked the reins, and moved on without a backward glance.
