A Change of Fortune (8 page)

“What’s wrong, Harry? Something at the East India?”

“In a manner of speaking. Does the name Richard Conyngham mean anything to you?”

Guy hesitated. “As a matter of fact it does, although I don’t know him personally. Why do you ask?”

“He’s dead, Guy, and what’s more, he died impoverished and at the center of a dreadful scandal.”

Guy stared at him. “Dear God above,” he murmured. “But he was a wealthy man, a nabob! Surely there’s some mistake.”

“No mistake. He lost everything, and from all accounts, he had no one to blame but himself.” Harry paused. “I find it hard to believe of him, though, for I knew him and always thought him the most honest and upright of men.”

Guy was silent. Leonie’s face seemed to hover before him. He took a deep breath. “What has all this to do with the countess?”

“Conyngham has a daughter.”

“Leonie.”

Harry looked quickly at him. “You know her?”

“Yes.”

“I’m told she’s very beautiful.”

Guy smiled a little. “Yes, I suppose she is.”

“Someone has to break the dreadful news to her not only that she’s penniless but also that her father’s name is soon to be at the center of an unwelcome scandal. In the absence of any other relatives, it was deemed prudent to approach the countess, because of her…er, interest in the seminary Miss Conyngham attends.”

Guy was incredulous. “Do you honestly believe that that Russian lodestar is the right person for such a delicate and sensitive task?”

“No, I don’t, but it’s been decided in high places and is out of my hands. I’m merely the messenger boy.” Harry glanced at him. “Will you effect the introduction, Guy?”

“Under the circumstances, I don’t seem to have much choice.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re being a little strange about this.”

Guy nodded a little. “Yes, I suppose I am. It’s just….”

“Yes?”

“It’s just that I was remembering the last time I spoke to Miss Conyngham, and I was wishing unsaid some of the things I said. Well, come on, let’s find La Lieven and have done with it.”

* * *

Dorothea was in the orangery with Nadia and Imogen. The glass-domed chamber was warmed by numerous stoves in order to protect the almost tropical foliage which grew so profusely all around, and the air was stiflingly hot. There was a heavy smell of damp earth and citrus leaves, and high above, the glass roof was running with condensation. The only sound, apart from the conversation of the three women seated upon the sofa by a trellis, came from a beautiful macaw in a high gilt cage.

Dorothea was in the middle of describing the delights of a Russian winter to an entranced Imogen, “What a pity you British do not often have much snow, Lady Imogen,” she said, “for it means that you are denied the diversion of
les montagnes russes
.”

“Russian mountains? I don’t understand.”

“Oh, they are excellent amusement. The snow is piled up into a hill about seventy feet high, and steps are carved up one side while the other is made very smooth. Then each gentleman takes a lady down at great speed on a cushioned toboggan. It’s most entertaining. Some mountains are made even higher, so that larger toboggans can be used and more people go down together.”

Imogen, who disliked anything which took place at a pace, looked a little faint at the thought of these particular diversions. “How…delightful,” she murmured.

Nadia gave a sigh. “Oh, how I wish there was snow like that here. Especially now.”

“Why now in particular?” inquired Dorothea, “Because that wretched agent in St. Petersburg has seen fit to dispatch my sleigh to London along with everything else. I distinctly remember instructing him to sell—” She broke off hastily, a flush leaping to her cheeks. It wouldn’t do at all to reveal to Imogen how truly parlous were her financial affairs.

Imogen affected not to notice the slip. “A sleigh? Oh, Nadia, how very exciting. Do tell me what it’s like. I’m told that the imperial sleighs are particularly magnificent.”

Nadia gave a quick laugh. “Oh, but mine isn’t an
imperial
sleigh. They have gold and scarlet trappings and are lined with sable, and they have at least twelve horses to draw them. Mine is only a little troika lined with blue velvet, but it’s very pretty, don’t you think, Dorothea?”

Dorothea raised an eyebrow. “Pretty? It’s merely a sleigh, like any other sleigh. So, we are to have the embarrassment of having it delivered here in Harley Street, are we?” Her foot tapped irritably.

“It isn’t my fault, Dorothea, it’s the fault of that incompetent agent.”

“Hm.” Dorothea looked up then and saw the two men approaching. “Ah, Sir Guy, there you are. I was beginning to think you had deserted poor Lady Imogen.”

Imogen gave him another haughty glance and then looked stiffly away.

He smiled a little. “Desert her?” he said to Dorothea. “How could I possibly bring myself to do that when I have only just succeeded in persuading her to accept me?”

Dorothea smiled and then glanced questioningly at Harry.

Guy quickly introduced him. “May I present Sir Henry Fitzjohn? Harry, this is Countess Lieven, and her cousin, Miss Benckendorff. Imogen you know already, of course.”

Dorothea extended a gracious hand. “Sir Henry.”

“Madam.”

She glanced shrewdly at him. “I detect a conspiracy of some sort, sir. Why have you been so particularly introduced to me?”

He seized gladly upon the opening. “You are too perceptive, Countess. I see that nothing of importance slips past you.”

“Nothing at all, sir. Am I to believe then that you wish to speak to me on a matter of importance?”

“It is my earnest hope that you will be able to grant us a favor, my lady.”

“Us?”

“The East India Company.”

“Indeed? How very flattering. What is this favor?”

He glanced at Guy and then launched into his explanation. Dorothea’s smile faltered a little, her black eyes widening with astonishment, and Imogen stared in open amazement. Nadia, however, reacted in an entirely different way. Her breath caught on a gasp of ill-concealed delight, and a gloating smile curved her lovely lips. At one divine stroke, her hated rival was destroyed! From being a dazzling heiress, Leonie Conyngham was become a pauper.

Guy watched her with distaste. He knew of her pursuit of Rupert Allingham, having overheard that gentleman at White’s when he related to Edward Longhurst all that had happened that afternoon at the seminary. Guy found Rupert, Duke of Thornbury, thoroughly despicable, and Nadia he found to be the equal in every way to the man she was pursuing so determinedly.

Dorothea recovered a little from her initial surprise, and her eyes were a little guarded. “Sir Henry, you mentioned a scandal, but you did not elaborate. Before I agree to do anything for you, I must be in full possession of the facts, since it would hardly be in my interest to involve myself in anything…er, untoward.”

“Oh, I quite understand, madam,” he said quickly, “and of course I will explain in more detail. It seems that Mr. Conyngham decided to risk all on a gold-mining venture with a partner by the name of Bourne, Mr. Philip Bourne. Both gentlemen agreed to put their fortunes into the mine, which became very successful indeed, inordinately successful, in fact. Then Conyngham fell fatally ill with a fever, and at almost the same time it was discovered that far from putting his own money into the business, he had embezzled his share from the East India Company, having previously squandered all his own at the gaming tables. On his death, his partner, Mr. Bourne, promptly recompensed the company for the vast sum it had lost, but by the terms of the legal agreement he and Conyngham had had drawn up at the beginning of their partnership, the default of one partner meant that everything went to the other. Mr. Bourne, therefore, now has everything, and everything in this case means a great deal. A great deal. However, as far as Richard Conyngham’s daughter is concerned, the whole venture might as well have failed, for she receives nothing at all. She’s completely destitute, there is no other family to take her in, and on top of that, she will have to endure the notoriety which the whole case is bound to achieve when news gets out.”

Dorothea nodded. ‘The young woman is indeed in a most unenviable position. Sir Henry.”

“She is, which is why we are so anxious that a lady of sensitivity and understanding should be the one to tell her of the terrible tragedy which has befallen her.”

Guy had to look away. Sensitivity and understanding? Dorothea Lieven? God help Leonie Conyngham.

Dorothea smiled at Harry. “You were quite right to come to me, Sir Henry, and I will of course do as you request. We leave for Streatham Park tomorrow for Christmas, but I shall make it my business to call at the seminary first.”

“You are very kind, madam.”

She nodded and extended her hand once more. He kissed it, bowed to them all, and then withdrew.

Imogen exhaled very slowly. “Well, who would have believed it? So Miss High-and-Mighty Conyngham isn’t so high and mighty after all.”

Dorothea shrugged. “They were hardly a family of breeding anyway.”

Nadia could barely contain her delight. “Well, to be sure, it is as well that Miss Conyngham has reasonable looks, for she will need them if she’s to find a protector.”

Guy watched them. Dear God, how society adored a scandal, and how little sympathy it showed for innocent victims. Imogen’s attitude angered him, but Nadia’s stirred his complete and utter loathing. He was filled with a desire to wipe that feline smile from her lips. He toyed with his cuff. “Oh, I don’t think the lady will need to resort to that sort of protection, Miss Benckendorff,” he said smoothly.

“No? What else do you suggest for someone without anywhere to go, and without a penny to her name? And what a name!” She laughed, contemplating the forthcoming stir the whole affair would cause.

“What do I suggest?” he replied lightly. “Oh, I was thinking more along the lines of a post as companion.”

Nadia sat up a little. “Oh. Well, I suppose there are such positions.”

As you know well enough, he thought, since that is exactly what you were in St. Petersburg. He smiled. “Yes, there are indeed such situations, and it so happens that I know of the perfect one for Miss Conyngham.”

“You do?” Nadia was wary now, having caught the steely glint in his dark eyes.

“Yes. The Duchess of Thornbury is seeking a companion.”

Nadia froze. “Oh, no, I think you are wrong, Sir Guy.”

“So do I!” snapped Imogen angrily.

Guy was angry himself, and for once completely immune to Imogen. He pursued his course. “I’m not wrong,” he said quietly, “for I spoke to her only this morning.”

Nadia’s green eyes flashed and she looked away from him. The thought of Leonie being the duchess’s companion was simply not to be tolerated, for Rupert lived in his mother’s town house.

Guy was taking great delight in ruffling her spiteful feathers. “The duchess was bemoaning her loneliness,” he went on, “and as you well know, she is a very kindly lady, so she would most certainly show compassion to one as unfortunate as Miss Conyngham. Yes, the more I think of it, the more I’m convinced that it is the perfect solution. I must make a point of calling on the duchess.”

Nadia loathed him suddenly, knowing that he would do just that. He was right about the duchess: she was indeed too soft and kindhearted, and she was quite likely to take Leonie under her motherly wing. That was something which must at all costs be avoided.

Imogen looked crossly at him, rightly suspecting him of deliberately trying to upset Nadia.

He felt the moment had come to withdraw. He glanced at Imogen. “Would you care to dance?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, “I would not.”

He said nothing, but turned on his heel and walked from the orangery.

The ball was over and the guests had all departed. Dorothea was in her boudoir reclining on a chaise longue. She was sipping hot chocolate from a silver cup, and she was offering tasty tidbits to her pug. She glanced up as Nadia entered. “I wondered how long it would be before you came. I suppose you want to talk about this wretched Conyngham business.”

“You know that I do.”

“I can’t do anything about it. If Sir Guy calls upon the duchess as he threatened, then that is the end of it.”

“I don’t want Leonie Conyngham anywhere near Rupert.”

“I’m sure you don’t, she’s far too pretty.”

Nadia looked angrily at her, “I don’t need reminding of that. Oh, Dorothea, we have to do something.”

“Would you like me to ask Sir Guy not to do anything?” inquired Dorothea a little sarcastically.

“Don’t be disagreeable, Dorothea.”

“It’s you who are being disagreeable. I’ve had a very tiring day and merely wish to relax—you come here with all your troubles.”

“Don’t you want me to be the next Duchess of Thornbury?”

Dorothea looked at her and then nodded, putting down the dish of tidbits. The pug immediately jumped down to snuffle at them. Dorothea fondly stroked its head. “Ah, Baryshna,” she murmured, “how you love your little treats.” She sat up then, giving Nadia her full attention. “So, we must see to it that Leonie Conyngham does not go to the Duchess of Thornbury. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“It’s simple.”

Nadia’s lips parted in astonishment. “It is?”

“Of course. We must see to it that she remains at the seminary.”

“How?”

“The assistant schoolteacher left recently. It will be a simple matter to persuade Miss Hart that Leonie Conyngham is an ideal replacement. After all, she
does
know everything they teach there.”

Nadia stared, but then gave a dismissive laugh. “I can’t imagine anyone in her right mind preferring such a post to being companion to a duchess!”

“Then she must be prevailed upon,” replied Dorothea a little testily. “There must be outstanding fees which can be demanded of her, a sum which she would feel honor-bound to pay back. Miss Hart must draw up a rather inflated bill, and there must also be a binding agreement, something which once signed will keep your wretched Leonie in her place. I will speak to Miss Hart in the morning and by this time tomorrow night your rival will be chained.” She glanced shrewdly at Nadia. “That is not to say, however, that it will be the end of your precious Rupert’s interest in her.”