Free A Husband's Wicked Ways by Jane Feather Page A

help my own countrymen in London. So many of them flee the tyrant with only the clothes they stand up in. I do what I can for them. But I could manage perhaps twenty guineas for the infirmary.”
    “That would be most generous, Countess,” Cecily said. “We know how deeply you are involved in relieving the plight of your countrymen in exile.”
    “I will do what I can for anyone suffering from Napoléon’s tyranny,” the lady announced, her Spanish accent becoming more pronounced under the strength of her emotion. “Poor King Carlos and his family, forced into exile. It’s such a dreadful time.” Her voice quavered a little, and she dabbed at her eyes with a dainty scrap of embroidered lace.
    The luncheon broke up soon after. “Will you come back to Mount Street, Ellie?” Cornelia asked as they gathered wraps and gloves. “You could collect Franny.”
    “Yes, yes, of course,” Aurelia said somewhat absently. “That would be convenient, Nell. D’you have your carriage?”
    “Mmm. The barouche. Of course, if you have something you need to do at home, I could drop you off in Cavendish Square and Daisy can come and fetch Franny later.”
    “No, I have nothing in particular to do this afternoon,” Aurelia said with perfect truth. She had no desire to be alone with her thoughts, although it would be a strain to watch her tongue with Cornelia. They were not accustomed to having secrets from each other. But the more practice she had with this secret, the easier it would become.
    They bade farewell to their hostess and walked down the steps to the barouche, which awaited at the curb. “Cecily certainly has a talent for organization,” Cornelia observed, climbing up into the carriage with a nod to the footman who held the door.
    “She’s one of the few women I know who can keep the discussion on track,” Aurelia agreed, grateful for this innocuous conversation. “Even Letitia can’t budge her when Cecily’s bee is buzzing in her bonnet.”
    Cornelia laughed and arranged the lap robe over both of them. “I was quite drawn to Countess Lessingham. Did you like her?”
    “She certainly has a passion for her émigré countrymen,” Aurelia said, tucking her hands beneath the robe. “And one can only respect that. This wretched war is causing so much suffering across the Continent. So many lives lost, so many wounded…so many families left destitute, homeless.” She looked helplessly at her friend.“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing enough, Nell.”
    “We gave two husbands to the war,” Cornelia said quietly. “I know that could be considered a small sacrifice when one looks at what others have lost or have now to endure, but it’s not insignificant, Ellie. Neither of us tried to persuade our husbands to stay safe at home. We knew the risks, but we embraced them, as did Stephen and Frederick.”
    Aurelia could only murmur assent. However Frederick had died, he had died for his country. Her eyes darted left and right as the carriage bowled through the streets. She half expected to see Greville Falconer lurking, although if he was lurking, she doubted he would make himself visible.
    “Something troubling you, love?”
    “No, whyever should there be?” Aurelia said with a laugh that she hoped sounded convincing.
    Cornelia shrugged. “You seemed rather distrait at luncheon, and you seem on edge now.”
    “I’m a little tired.”
    “Ah.” Cornelia nodded, unconvinced, but she would not probe in the absence of any encouragement. She changed the subject. “I must show you the color scheme I’ve decided on for the ball.”
    “Black and silver, you said.”
    “Yes, but with little hints of white and crimson. The flowers will be white lilies, and stripped honesty, for the silver. And then…” Cornelia looked expectantly at Aurelia. “Can you guess?”
    Aurelia shook her head, amused despite her preoccupation.
    “Black tulips.”
    “Where on earth…?”
    “Alex,” Cornelia stated. “I mentioned