Pleasures of the Night by Heather Boyd
Chapter 25
Eugenia was tired. Tired of waiting to take back her life. The journey from Dover to London had seemed interminable. The only bright spark had been spending so many hours getting to know her late husband’s mother. Jeanne Bagshaw was a proud woman. Devoted to her son’s memory and furious with Regis Bagshaw’s deception.
So angry that Eugenia had enlisted one of Thaddeus’ groom to follow them inside Lord Wharton’s home, to make sure she didn’t commit murder upon the first sight of Regis. He would pay for his crimes but at the hands of the authorities only.
Mrs. Bagshaw clutched her old and worn reticule tight. Everything about the woman was that way. She’d suffered hardships the likes of which Eugenia could never imagine during her long life. She had sold most of what she owned to survive this long. Taken in boarders, strangers, some of whom had used her ill and stolen from her, too.
Although Thaddeus had left a man behind to guard her home, Eugenia hoped to convince Mrs. Bagshaw not to go back to Dover. They were family, and the lady was in need of comfort and protection in her twilight years. If she could be persuaded to consider the idea, Eugenia hoped to convince her to remain in London with her at Albemarle Street.
The carriage turned into Cavendish Square, and she soon saw the grand residence of the Marquess of Wharton.
No one there knew that she was coming home today, but she would waste no time freeing herself from her unwanted marriage that had never been real.
The carriage drew to a halt, and Mrs. Bagshaw looked out and up at the facade of the mansion. She squinted at the building and then nodded. “Is this it?”
“Yes. My cousins reside here. I cannot wait for you to meet them.”
“I look forward to that, too,” she promised. “And you’re sure that villain will be here?”
“If he’s not, Wharton will send for him when I ask him to.” Eugenia drew in a steadying breath. “Regis wants me, and what little money I have and the connections I’ve cultivated. I cannot imagine he’d have left London emptyhanded,” she promised.
But she hoped he had gone while she was away. She wanted never to see him again after today, if he’d not. She wished he’d never come and dug up her sad past. Her consolation was that her family would rally around her. Her cousins had believed her, but without proof, no one else would have.
And Thaddeus loved her, too.
A groom put down a step and helped her out, then turned to help Mrs. Bagshaw. She looked left and right, hoping that Thaddeus had already arrived before them. She wanted him to see Bagshaw get his comeuppance.
Eugenia took up Mrs. Bagshaw’s hand to guide her up the front steps. A groom had already knocked to alert the butler of her return. She murmured her thanks to the groom as she passed him, knowing he’d disappear with the carriage as soon as he possibly could.
Wharton’s butler beamed at the sight of her. “Miss Eugenia, the marchioness and your family will be overjoyed to see you safely returned!”
“Thank you, sir. Rest assured, I was never in harm’s way. Please assure everyone in the household that I am the picture of health and happiness.”
“I speak for the entire household staff when I say we are delighted to hear it.”
Eugenia gestured to her mother-in-law. “This is a very special guest of mine. For the moment, I will not give you her name, but she will be staying with us for an indeterminate length of time.”
“A pleasure to meet you, madam. I will have a chamber close to yours prepared within the hour.” He nodded and smiled at Mrs. Bagshaw, who was currently gaping up at the high painted ceilings as if she’d never seen such a thing before. She may well not have, too.
“Well, isn’t this fancy,” Jeanne finally muttered to herself.
Eugenia had gotten used to her improved surroundings, but that would never mean she wanted to live in a rarified world such as this all her life. She longed for her quiet home, and for Thaddeus to be there with her, too.
The butler smiled. “The marquess indicated he was very eager to speak to you upon your return.”
She nodded. Wharton was no doubt livid with her for running away without leaving a note of her whereabouts behind. But he was not her brother, who could give her orders that she had to obey. She would remind him of that when they spoke if he gave her any trouble. “We should like to wash our faces before speaking with him, though.”
“Of course. The morning room is presently unoccupied.”
“Good.” Given the increase of women in the house, the purpose of that chamber had been restored to regular use from being a smoking room. The morning room was also connected to the lower retiring room, where ladies freshened themselves up and fixed their hair. Eugenia led her mother-in-law there, explained the plumbing of a water closet, and left her there to splash some water on her face at a basin. She smoothed her hair back into some semblance of neatness.
Mr. Bloom rushed in tea and little sandwiches on a silver tray and wore a beaming smile of welcome.
“Here you are,” he promised, “just the way you like it best, and a bit to eat as well.”
“That was very kind, Mr. Bloom. Thank you.”
He stood back and bowed. “My pleasure. Always.”
He backed away when Jeanne emerged, although it was clear he’d hoped to talk with her further.
Jeanne’s face lit up when she saw a tea service and plate of sandwiches waiting. But then she startled when Aurora and Sylvia burst into the room and rushed to embrace Eugenia.
She was enveloped in the warmest welcome of her life from both of them. “I found proof,” she whispered. “I’m free.”
Each of her cousins fought to hug her tight again.
Aurora whispered, “I haven’t slept a whole night through since you’ve been gone; I was so worried. Mr. Berringer and several others arrived half an hour ago.”
“None of us have slept,” Sylvia promised.
She faced Sylvia, worried that she’d be angry about being left out. “How is he?”
“Wharton? Worried about you, of course.”
“I meant the imposter. Regis Bagshaw, my late husband’s illegitimate brother.”
The pair gaped.
“That explains the similarity of his face,” Aurora murmured. “Regis Bagshaw is eating well while pretending to care about your disappearance. He comes each day and makes demands that Wharton trot you out, but only after eating a seven-course luncheon,” Aurora added.
“He tried to stay here overnight once, wanted to search the house for you, too, but Wharton nearly knocked his block off for the insult that he might be complicit in your disappearance,” Sylvia murmured. “He’s here again now, consulting maps of London in the library with Wharton. He did not see you return, but Wharton surely will know you are back.”
Mrs. Bagshaw rattled a teacup and saucer somewhere behind Eugenia’s back.
Eugenia turned quickly. “Forgive us, madam. Might I make my cousins known to you?”
Mrs. Bagshaw inclined her head as regally as the marchioness was prone to do.
“This is my cousin Sylvia Hillcrest, who is to marry the Marquess of Wharton in the near future. And second but never truly second to anyone is my other cousin, Aurora Hillcrest. Ladies, I have the honor of introducing to you my mother-in-law, Mrs. Jeanne Bagshaw of Dover.”
Both dipped deep curtsies. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”
“And you. Beauty I see runs in your family, Mrs. Bagshaw.”
“It does,” Eugenia promised, her heart so full of happiness at being with her cousins again that she was nearly in tears. She glanced at the door. “Do you want to see the imposter thrown out on his ear?” she asked her cousins.
“Wild horses couldn’t drag us away from the spectacle,” Aurora promised.
Sylvia moved to the door and held up one finger. “Let me go and check that everything is ready. Just wait here a moment longer.”
Aurora went with her, so Eugenia sat beside her mama-in-law, drank some of her tea, took a few bites of the sandwiches, and felt better for it.
Jeanne smiled sadly. “You’re lucky to have a loving family.”
“There’s always room for one more. Will you stay with me after Regis is taken care of?”
Jeanne looked around the chamber, seeming to shrink into herself. “I don’t know if I could. I’m almost afraid to breathe in this rarified air.”
“My cousins and I used to live in Albemarle Street, some distance away. Our home was much less grand, but it was cozy and warm. I had thought to return there when my cousin married, and the marchioness’ health had improved.”
“All by yourself?”
“Aurora might have come, but I wouldn’t have pressured her to. I’m sure you and I could be just as comfortable there as anywhere.”
Jeanne looked around again. Clearly she was considering it, but hadn’t made up her mind yet.
A tap sounded on the door, and Mr. Bloom appeared. “Lord Wharton wishes me to inform you that he and Mr. Bagshaw are ready to speak with you in the library.”
“Thank you.” She turned to her mother-in-law. “Ready?”
Jeanne grasped her faded old parasol and brandished it as a weapon. “Death to the imposter!”
“Well, perhaps not death. I wouldn’t want his blood spoiling the floor rugs in this mansion.”
Jeanne glanced down and winced. “Probably a good idea. They are too lovely to have soiled by his blood.”
“Follow me so we can surprise him.” Eugenia went first through the door, Mrs. Bagshaw’s steps following close behind. The doors to the library were flanked by two footmen, who grinned to see her and opened them smartly.
The first thing she saw was Wharton. His face was a masterpiece of inscrutability. She had no idea if he was angry or relieved to see her, so she moved into the chamber and waited for his explosion. Bagshaw had been standing with his back to the door, speaking with Sylvia as they studied the map.
Regis Bagshaw suddenly turned, saw her standing there, and then rushed toward her, hands outstretched as he cried, “Darling, where have you been?”
But he never reached her. Never got within six feet actually, because Jeanne Bagshaw stepped directly into his path, parasol pointed at his gut. “Grubby little no-good urchin! How dare you come near my daughter!”
Time slowed for Eugenia as Bagshaw tried to avoid being skewered by the furious old woman. His body arched away from the point, and he stumbled backward. “Mama!”
“Don’t mama me, you greedy pretender. You were never good enough to lick the mud off my Robert’s boots!”
He glanced around, eyes pleading. “But I am your son, Mama. Don’t you recognize your own little Robbie anymore?”
Mrs. Bagshaw turned. “Didn’t I say he’d suggest I was losing my mind?”
“He is very predictable, isn’t he?”
“Never did have much of an imagination. Always did copy my Robert.”
The marquess stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on the parasol. “Who is he?”
“My husband’s other son. Regis Bagshaw. A bastard he got on a whore down by the port. Everyone there knows his face. A certain magistrate from Dover is eager to become reacquainted with him upon his arrival in London.”
“So it’s true this Regis character looks similar to your son, Robert?”
“Not to me. Same color eyes but my Robert’s tilted up more at the corners. He was a happy boy, my Robert. Always good to his mother,” she said, and then scowled. “But this one would sooner spit on me than pay me the courtesy of taking himself away.”
“And how does he know about Eugenia?”
“Stole the letters I kept from Robert describing meeting Eugenia from my home six months ago.”
“Those were my letters! I diligently wrote to you whenever I was away. I showed you some as proof, my lord.”
Eugenia moved up to stand beside her mother-in-law. “He didn’t show you all of them, my lord. What of the last letter?”
Mrs. Bagshaw lifted her chin. “The one where my son made me promises he would have kept.”
“I…” It was clear to see Regis was floundering now. He snapped his fingers. “Let me see the letter to refresh my memory,” he said. “And then, of course, I will happily fulfill every promise I ever made you both if it’s in my power.”
Wharton held out his hand. “Madam, if you’d be so kind as to show me that letter first.”
Eugenia encouraged her mother-in-law to share. “You can trust the marquess.”
Mrs. Bagshaw pulled the much-folded last letter from her bodice and reluctantly passed it over.
Wharton read, and his eyes widened. “Now that is generous indeed.”
Regis hurried to Warton, attempting to read over his shoulder. “What does it say!”
Wharton moved away from him, squinted at the lettering. “Appears genuine and very much in the style of past correspondence from Robert Bagshaw. How do you still have it, madam?”
“I keep it with me always.” She pointed to her chest. “Here, where it couldn’t ever be lost.”
Wharton folded the sheet and promptly handed it back, and the letter disappeared down Mrs. Bagshaw’s bodice very quickly.
Regis Bagshaw grimaced, deciding not to pursue the object.
Wharton stood back, and his eyes narrowed on a distant door. He nodded, and from an adjoining room, a half dozen lords Eugenia knew well spilled into the room, Thaddeus included.
She was so relieved to see him she almost ran to his arms.
“So now, gentleman, we are faced with a conundrum. This fellow doesn’t recall what’s in the letter he was supposed to have written to his mother. I think it unlikely he could have written it and forgotten. And yet, it was a long time ago.”
“I am truly sorry to have the matter slip my mind.”
“My Robbie would never have forgotten any promise he made to his mother.”
Lord Hurlston smoothly stepped between Jeanne and the imposter. “Was it jewels, a new shawl, or a bigger house, perhaps? Only the real Robert Bagshaw would know.”
“A new shawl for her to wear to church on Sundays and a pin for her best dress,” Bagshaw exclaimed. “That must be it. I was always bringing her back pretty trinkets from distant parts.”
Eugenia smiled. “Not even close, Regis.”
He glared at her, his jaw firming. “Be quiet, wife!”
Teddy was suddenly at her side. “Have a care how you speak to her, sir. You are not standing in some low dockside brothel in Dover anymore.”
Wharton held up his hand for silence. “On the one hand, we have written proof that Mr. Robert Bagshaw was deeply in love with his new wife, Eugenia, and on the other, you claim you’d quarreled with her, leading to an abandonment of the marriage.”
Regis’ jaw set into a hard, mulish line. “It doesn’t matter what happened then. She is trying to escape her vows now, when the law says she’s to do her duty to her husband.”
Wharton grinned. “That letter actually promised that Robert and his mother were finally going to escape you by moving away to Hastings.”
“The hell it did! Robbie would never abandon his own flesh and blood.”
Eugenia smiled. Regis had just described Robert as a separate person to himself.
Mrs. Bagshaw slipped around Lord Hurlston, finger raised and pointing at Regis. “My Robbie was tired of your grasping ways, spoiling his friendships and always begging for a handout. And when he died, you kept up your begging with me, pleading with me to take you in. Poor Regis lost his big, wealthy brother. But I had already caught you stealing things that belonged to your dead father, claiming you had the right to take them when you don’t even have a right to bear his name! I wouldn’t have you in the house.”
“He was my father, too,” Regis growled. “My brother. They loved me.”
And there was further proof of his deception, right from his own lips.
“Robbie was ashamed of you. Always grasping after something you didn’t deserve.” Mrs. Bagshaw gestured toward Eugenia. “Like her. She’s too fine to be your wife.”
“I’d treat her well.”
“Robert Bagshaw was twice the man you’ll ever pretend to be,” Eugenia said quietly. “You could never take his place in my heart.”
He came forward, hand raised to slap her, but Thaddeus was faster and blocked the attempt. He twisted the man’s arm, forcing him to bend low. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
When Thaddeus released Regis, he drew back, but he was captured by a pair of burly footmen. They gave him no choice in staying as they dragged him from the room.
“I appreciate your intervention, Berringer.” Wharton nodded, pulling down his waistcoat. “And you too, Hurlston. I was not expecting violence. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“But now I must ask you to leave. My betrothed’s cousin has had an eventful day and is in need of rest.”
“I’m not tired,” Eugenia protested.
“Good, then we will speak about your disappearance.” Wharton nodded to Thaddeus and the others. “Sir, gentlemen, this is a family matter now, and the least number of ears to hear what I say next, the better. Please show yourselves out.”
Eugenia could protest Thaddeus had been an integral part of her disappearance, but that would raise eyebrows. For now, he had to leave, but she hoped he would return soon. They were not done with each other by any stretch of her considerable imagination.
She bid him goodbye, easily seeing his reluctance to go.
But he nodded and left her to her family.
“Come with me,” Wharton started, turning on his heel and striding off—clearly expecting her to obey and follow. She considered rebelling, but he had the housing of her, and very generously too.
“Go with him,” Sylvia whispered. “It will only take a minute. Mrs. Bagshaw and I can become better acquainted while we wait.”
She supposed she owed Wharton a version of the truth. “All right.”
She found Wharton pacing his study. “Shut the door,” he demanded.
Eugenia frowned, worried by that. Nothing she could say to him was so very private from her cousins that a door had to be shut.
“Please,” he asked again.
“All right.” She shut the door and moved to the center of the room.
Wharton rushed across the chamber and hugged her. “Don’t you ever run away from us again!” He released her just as quickly and moved back a few feet.
Eugenia, who’d never had much to do with Wharton, stared at him in shock. The man raked a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. “Are you well, my lord?”
“Eugenia, you worried me half to death!”
“I was only gone a few days.”
“Too many days,” he complained.
She exhaled. “I had to prove I was right.”
“I know. I didn’t like it, but I always knew deep down you’d come back when you found something or someone to contradict him.”
“From what Mrs. Bagshaw tells me, he has been trading off my late husband’s identity all his life. I had to stop him.”
“The magistrate and I will deal with him from now on, Mrs. Bagshaw.”
Eugenia winced. “I suppose I must be that woman now. But on the bright side, you need never worry about having a chaperone for Sylvia or Aurora, if I’m with them.”
He scowled. “There is that, but I fear you’ll find yourself in the center of a whirlwind, now you’re back. The word is already spreading that another Hillcrest has angered me.”
“How is my widowed state something to be angry about?”
“Well, I’ve been introducing you, along with your cousins, as unmarried women. Potential wives. Gentlemen need to know they can count on me speaking the truth.”
Eugenia shook her head. “I never asked for you to do that. I can find my own husband if I should ever want one.”
“Your cousin did,” he warned. “Sylvia is of the belief that both her cousins should have their own households.”
“I do already. Albemarle Street.”
Wharton sucked in a sharp breath. “You cannot move back there alone. I forbid it.”
Eugenia waited for the marquess to consider the impact of his words before she answered him. “I am going to choose to believe you said that, in that tone, out of a desire for my cousins and I to stay together.”
“That is how I meant it.”
“And I do want to remain close to them. However, I have another concern now. Mrs. Bagshaw is my family, too, and she is not suited to living here. Not yet anyway. I want her to remain with me, but I think she will not fit in here in this grand house. So, I am moving us, Mrs. Bagshaw and I, back to Albemarle Street to live for the foreseeable future. Aurora will make her own choice about where she stays, but I am certain she will agree to remain with Sylvia to protect her reputation until you marry.”
Wharton appeared aghast at her plan. “There’s room here for another woman.”
“It is not in my mother-in-law’s nature to enjoy the excesses of society. Do not fear, Wharton, for I am sure you will see quite enough of me in the weeks and years ahead.”
“But Sylvia—”
“I will make her understand my decision,” she promised. Sylvia wouldn’t like it, but her heart was here with the marquess and marchioness now. Had been for many months. She stood. “Try not to worry, my lord. There are no more skeletons in my closet to upset you.”
“Next time, come to me for help first.”
She smiled serenely. “Wharton, you are forever trying to fix things.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“I am,” she promised, heading for the door. “More than you’ll ever know.”
She was a widow, a daughter-in-law, and she supposed a secret mistress now, too. She could openly wear the gifts Thaddeus had given her about her throat, and few would care or question where they came from. She had the best situation possible. Happiness without restriction. Love without end—and a lover with an equally wicked mind to hers.
What more could she possibly want in her life?