Always a Lady

  “No,” Mariah said. “Can’t you pierce them?”

  Everyone looked at one another and shook their heads.

  “Your earlobes may redden and swell before your presentation,” Wren told her.

  “Surely no one will notice,” Mariah insisted.

  “They may prove to be rather sore and painful, my dear,” Drew told her.

  “Oh.”

  She replied in such a small, disappointed voice that Kate offered, “I’ll do it.”

  “No, little minx,” Kit said, giving his young sister an affectionate hug. “I’ll do it.”

  “Truly?” Mariah asked hopefully.

  “Cross my heart,” he said. “But you must open your other presents first.”

  Mariah did. And she was overwhelmed by the generosity of Kit’s family and friends. There was a pair of net mittens and a set of monogrammed handkerchiefs from Kate, a lace fan and a bottle of cologne from Iris. Miss Allerton presented her with a book of Lord Byron’s poetry. Lord Everleigh gave her a set of calling cards engraved with her name. Mr. Mirrant presented her with packets of creamy vellum stationery. From Lady Templeston came a hand-painted silk scarf, and from Lord Templeston came a beautiful black onyx rosary.

  “It belonged to one of my great-great grandmothers,” he explained. “She was Catholic, too.”

  Mariah gasped when she saw it and began to cry. “I cannot thank you all enough. It has been the best birthday I ever had.”

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Kit whispered. “Or your eyes will be all puffy and red before your presentation. You don’t want them to match your ears, do you?”

  Mariah dried her tears on one of her new handkerchiefs.

  “I have another gift to give you,” Kit said. “Several, in fact.”

  He walked over to the bell and summoned Horton, who entered the breakfast room bearing a carved jewelry box. “I had Ford pack these with my things before we left Telamor. The jewelry box and the jewelry inside it all belonged to your mother. It was stored in the safe at Telamor.” Kit handed Mariah the box.

  She opened the lid and was immediately immersed in a flood of memories. The jewelry box was musical, and the old-fashioned minuet was one Mariah instantly remembered from childhood. More tears cascaded down her cheeks, and Mariah carefully closed the lid on the box. “Thank you,” she breathed. “I thought it must be lost or sold, for no one ever told me what happened to her things.”

  Kit smiled at her. “Most of her personal items have found their way back to your rooms at Telamor and what hasn’t been returned has been kept in storage there.” He waited for Mariah to regain her composure, then resumed his gift-giving. There was another jewelry box in the safe at Telamor. Jewelry that had belonged to Lady Alanna, but Kit intended to save it for the honeymoon. But before there could be a honeymoon, he had several more items to be attended to. He took an official-looking document out of his pocket and a large sapphire ring with one pear-shaped stone surrounded by smaller diamonds.

  “I purchased a special license,” he said softly. “And a betrothal ring to go along with it. I love you, Mariah, and it would please me beyond all measure if you would help me keep a promise I once made to a six-year-old girl and consent to be my wife.”

  Mariah broke into a dazzling smile. “Yes.”

  Kit slipped the ring onto her finger.

  The girls and Ally rushed to congratulate Mariah. Ash and Dalton slapped Kit on the back and congratulated them both.

  When congratulations had all been given, the Ramsey family and friends sat down to breakfast. No one lingered over the meal. There was much to be done and very little time in which to do it.

  After breakfast Dalton and Ash left to attend to the betting book at White’s, where they had recorded a number of wagers since returning to London.

  Drew sent Iris and Kate upstairs with Miss Allerton, while Kit kept his other promise. Wren asked Horton to gather the necessary items, then remained behind with Drew to instruct Kit on the proper procedure and to offer moral support.

  Horton delivered the items, and Kit laid out a large needle, a bottle of whisky and two glasses, a bucket of ice, and a cork.

  He waited until the sideboard had been cleared of breakfast, then set Mariah up on it so he could more easily reach her ears.

  “Are you certain you want to do this now?” Kit asked.

  Mariah nodded. “I want to wear my earrings at the drawing room.”

  Kit inhaled, then slowly let out the breath. “Very well. Here goes.” He took a large chip of ice and handed it to Mariah. “Hold this to your earlobe. It will help lessen the pain.”

  She did as he asked and when her earlobes were pink with cold, Kit poured two glasses of whisky. He swirled the needle around in one and took a huge swallow out of the other. Kit set the glass of whisky down, then picked up the cork, placed it behind Mariah’s ear and pushed the needle through her earlobe from the opposite side.

  Mariah bit her bottom lip, but managed a brave smile when Wren handed him a diamond earring.

  Kit’s fingers trembled and his knees threatened to buckle as he fastened the clasp to the back of the diamond stud. He was white-faced, perspiring profusely, and breathing as hard as if he’d run a race by the time he repeated the procedure on her other ear.

  Mariah gasped once and bit her bottom lip again as he pierced the second earlobe, but she didn’t move until Kit slipped the second diamond earring into place and attached the clasp.

  “Is it over?” she asked.

  “It’s over,” he said in relief.

  Mariah turned slightly in order to view her new earrings in the mirror. She smiled in delight as the diamonds sparkled back at her. The pain had been worth it. “Thank you, Kit.”

  “You’re welcome,” he breathed. Then, “Christ, Mariah, don’t ever ask me to do anything like that again.”

  Forgetting that his mother and father were in the room, forgetting everything except the fact that he needed reassurance after his feat of bravery, Kit dropped the cork and needle, took Mariah’s face in his hands, and kissed her soundly, thoroughly, until they were both aching for more.

  “Uh-hmm,” Drew cleared his throat.

  Kit broke the kiss.

  Mariah blushed.

  “Kit, your mother has a few instructions for her.”

  “You’ll need to keep earrings in at all times until the holes have healed. Just turn them several times a day to keep the hole from growing up around the posts,” Wren said.

  “All right,” Drew pronounced. “I’ll see you both later in the morning. Many happy returns of the day, Mariah.” He turned to Kit. “Don’t keep her too long. She has a great deal to do before her drawing room.” He took Wren by the arm. “Come, my love.”

  “We’re not going to leave them alone in there,” Wren said as Drew led her out the door.

  “They’re engaged to be married, Kathryn.”

  “But, Drew, you saw the way he kissed her …”

  “That I did, my love,” he agreed. “We did the same when we were first engaged.”

  “But, Drew …”

  “Kit’s a grown man.”

  “I know he’s a grown man,” Wren fretted. “A grown man with needs. That’s why I’m worried.”

  “Nothing is going to happen in the breakfast room.”

  Wren lifted an eyebrow and gave her husband a knowing look. “Oh, really? Since when?”

  Kit waited until his parents left the room, then withdrew a velvet pouch from his jacket pocket.

  “More jewelry?” Mariah’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

  Kit nodded and removed a gold and diamond locket from the velvet bag and handed it to Mariah. “It belonged to my mother.”

  “Lady Templeston?”

  “No,” Kit shook his head. “Lady Alanna Kilgannon Farrington.” He lifted Mariah down from the sideboard, then told her the story. “Drew is really my half brother, not my father. My father was George Ramsey, fifteenth marquess of Templeston. But Drew an
d Mama adopted me and brought me up as their son when our father died. My father gave that locket to my mother. When she died, he gave it to Drew to keep for me. I’d like you to have it.”

  “Oh, Kit, I’ll treasure it always.”

  He was about to tell her the significance of the locket when Mariah opened it. “I remember this locket,” she said slowly.

  “I don’t think that’s possible.” Kit frowned. “It’s been in Drew’s safe since I was a child.”

  Mariah looked at the miniature of George Ramsey, then closed the lid and smiled at Kit. “I don’t mean this exact locket,” she said. “But one that looked just like it. It even had a portrait of a man inside just like this one.”

  Kit’s heart seemed to stop. “Where did you see a locket like this one?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. He’d suddenly remembered where he’d seen it. In the portrait gallery of Telamor Castle. Lady Alanna Kilgannon Farrington hadn’t been painted with any jewelry, but Lady Siobhan Shaughnessy had—and she’d been wearing a locket just like the one Mariah held in her hand.

  “My mother used to wear one all the time.”

  “Do you have it?” Kit asked urgently.

  “No,” Mariah answered, and a frown started to knit her brow.

  “It wasn’t among the jewelry I gave you this morning,” Kit told her. “Was it among the jewelry the Mother Superior gave you? The jewelry your mother was wearing the day she died?”

  “No.” Mariah shook her head. “But it should have been because she wore it all the time.”

  “If you don’t have it, the convent doesn’t have it, and it wasn’t left at Telamor, who has it?”

  “Lewbell.” Mariah began to shiver. “He was holding it in his hand after my mama fell onto the rocks.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.

  —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 1564–1616

  “Lewbell?” Kit asked before gently taking Mariah in his arms. “Sweetheart, is that his name?”

  Clinging to Kit as the memories came flooding back, Mariah murmured against his shirtfront, “I don’t remember any name but Lewbell.”

  “Do you remember if he was Irish or English?” Kit asked.

  She frowned. “I think English. Mama knew him before.”

  “Before you went to Ireland?”

  Mariah nodded. “Before. When my da lived with us.”

  “Then he might have been one of your father’s friends,” Kit speculated. “Do you remember your father? Or anything about him?”

  Mariah shook her head. “Not much. The sound of his voice, I think. And the way he smelled.” She looked at Kit. “The scent you wear is very like his. It smells of orange spices and vanilla.”

  “It’s called Madeira Spice. I have it mixed in a chemist’s shop on Bond Street,” Kit told her. “Perhaps your father shopped there as well.”

  “Lewbell was standing on the path, Kit. I saw him.”

  It broke my heart the way she babbled about the bluebells she’d picked while she cried for her mother and for her da. Kit suddenly recalled the words Father Francis had spoken that day in the cemetery. Only Mariah hadn’t been babbling about bluebells. She’d been trying to tell them the name of the man who had killed her mother. Lewbell.

  Kit led Mariah to a chair. “Can you remember his face?”

  She shook her head again. “I try, but I can’t seem to picture it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Kit soothed. “You don’t have to remember today. All you have to do is rest.” He walked over to the bellpull and summoned Horton, then turned back to Mariah. “Sweetheart, I need to talk to Papa about this. He knows everyone who’s anyone in London. He may know about the locket and the man of whom you speak. I’ll send Horton for Mama and ask her to make your excuses this afternoon.”

  “No.”

  “Mariah …” he began.

  “I want to make my curtsy this afternoon.” She stared up at him. “Everyone has worked so hard. Please, don’t ask me to delay it.”

  “If you’re certain …”

  “I’m certain.”

  “And if you promise to get some rest before your presentation.”

  Mariah hesitated, then nodded. “All right. But you have to try to find out what happened to my mother’s locket.”

  Damnation! How could he have forgotten about the locket? How could he forget its significance?

  “Agreed.” He brushed her lips with his own, then helped her to her feet, and walked her to the door.

  They met Horton in the doorway. “Please ask my father to meet me in his study as soon as possible. I’m going to take Miss Shaughnessy upstairs, and then I’ll wait in Papa’s study.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but Lord Templeston was called away to Downing Street,” Horton announced.

  “Do you know when he’s expected to return?”

  “I’m afraid not, sir,” Horton told him. “He’s meeting with the prime minister, and one never knows how long those meetings will last. He does expect to return in time for the young ladies’ presentations, however.” The butler started to withdraw, then suddenly changed his mind. “Lady Templeston is in her salon if you wish to speak with her.”

  Kit nodded. “Thank you, Horton.”

  “You’re welcome, sir. And may I wish Miss Shaughnessy many happy returns of the day and offer you both my felicitations on your upcoming nuptials?”

  Mariah beamed at the butler. “Yes, Horton. And thank you.”

  * * *

  Kit didn’t get a chance to speak to either one of his parents, and he’d barely caught a glimpse of Mariah all day.

  He knew she’d been badly shaken by her memories, but Mariah’s refusal to cancel her presentation meant that she was kept busy the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon. And because his mother nervously despaired of them being late, Mariah and Iris, accompanied by Wren, left Templeston Place earlier than expected, arriving at St. James’s Palace a half hour ahead of the appointed time.

  Equally resplendent in white evening gowns, with the requisite three-foot-long train, shoulder-length gloves, fan, and diamond hair clips with three white egret feathers signifying their status as debutantes, Mariah and Iris waited in line with the other ladies to be presented, with Iris, as daughter of the marquess of Templeston leading Mariah who was presented as Miss Mariah Shaughnessy, ward of the earl of Ramsey and Kilgannon. Mariah handed her calling card to the Lord Chamberlain and waited until her name was called before dropping her three-foot-long train and stepping forward. She managed a flawless curtsy before the queen, kissed her ring, and carefully backed away having had Queen Victoria pronounce her as utterly charming.

  The ball that followed the drawing room was held at the duchess of Kerry’s London mansion.

  While Mariah danced the opening quadrille with Lord Everleigh, Kit was closeted with Drew in the duchess of Kerry’s library.

  “I thought you’d be dancing with your betrothed,” Drew told him. “Instead of dragging me in here to talk. What is it? Have you decided when to set the date? Because if it’s any time before the end of the season, your mama is going to kill you.”

  “I’ve been looking for you all afternoon.” Kit stood rigidly erect and his voice was tight with emotion. “There may not be a wedding.”

  Drew looked at the young man who had been brimming over with love and happiness hours earlier and frowned. “What is it?”

  Kit blurted the news. “Mariah’s mother had a locket like mine.”

  Drew paled. “Are you certain?” he demanded. “Have you seen it?”

  Kit shook his head. “I haven’t seen it, but when I gave Lady Alanna’s locket to her, Mariah told me she’d seen one just like it.” He quickly related everything Mariah had remembered and his memory of seeing the portraits in the third-floor gallery of Telamor Castle, then plopped down on the sofa as if his legs would no longer support his weight. He propped his elbows on his knees, then cradled his face in his hands. ??
?Hell, Papa, I may have just proposed marriage to …”

  “Don’t,” Drew said firmly. “You’ve seen a portrait of Lady Siobhan at Telamor, right?”

  “Yes.

  “Describe her.”

  “What?” Kit looked up at Drew.

  “Describe her, son. Tell me what she looked like.”

  “She looked like Mariah,” Kit told him. “Black hair, fair skin, blue eyes.”

  “Describe Lady Alanna.”

  “Brown hair, brown eyes like yours or mine, fair skin.”

  “Does Lady Alanna bear any resemblance to the portrait of my mother hanging at Swanslea Park?”

  “Yes, there is a certain resemblance.” Kit answered slowly. “A marked resemblance.”

  “Does she bear any resemblance to Lady Siobhan or Mariah?”

  Kit mentally compared each of the women’s features. “None.”

  Drew heaved a sigh and relaxed, then placed his hand on Kit’s shoulder. “It will be all right.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know how Lady Siobhan got the locket. Perhaps she borrowed it for the portrait or she had one similar, but I would stake my life on the fact that my father—our father—didn’t present it to her. Because all of his mistresses look enough alike to be sisters and they all resemble my mother. They all have brown hair and brown eyes. He promised that in his letter, and he would never go against his word.” He sat down beside Kit on the sofa and put his arm around Kit’s shoulder. “The quadrille is ending, then there will be an old-fashioned minuet because Barbara, the duchess of Kerry, likes them, and after that, a waltz. I’ve promised your mama a waltz.” He looked at Kit. “Go waltz with Mariah.”

  “I’m almost afraid to,” Kit admitted. “I’m afraid to tempt fate.”

  “You won’t be,” Drew told him. “And I wouldn’t be encouraging you if I thought there was any danger of that terrible thing coming to pass. But Mariah needs you. It’s her birthday and the day you proposed and the day she remembered seeing her mother shoved to her death. Hold her, son. You need it and she needs it.”

  “Have you ever heard of the man Mariah remembers as Lewbell?”

  Drew shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone. I’ll ask around.”