A Game of Hearts

Chapter four

It was already dark when Alexander and Matilda arrived at Ellismere House in Berkeley Square. The electric streetlights had turned on, bathing the cold streets of Mayfair in a warm glow, and as the carriage was let through the wrought iron fence to the courtyard by a sleepy stablehand and came to a stop, the door to the house opened and a person stuck his head out and peered at them.

"Hanson," Alexander greeted the man, who'd until recently been Edward's valet, with a smile. "Good to see you again."

"Welcome home, your lordship," Hanson returned the greeting and stepped out onto the stairs leading to the street from the main entrance of Ellismere House. He was an austere and just man, with no preference for gossip or slander, but he was also sure of his own convictions and more often than not correct in his assumptions. He'd been in the staff for as long as Alexander could remember: as a footman for his father, and as a valet for his brother. Alexander had hoped that he'd stay on after Edward's death and was pleasantly relieved to see Hanson's pockmarked and familiar face.

"Are you the only one in the house?" Alexander asked as he exited the carriage. Behind him, Matilda demonstratively gathered her dress skirt and crawled out. With a dismayed scowl, she let her eyes run over the grand townhouse in front of her. She'd managed to take a jacket with her from her dressing room at the theatre before they left, but it was made for Paris springs, not London springs. Wrapping it tightly around her, Alexander could see that she was freezing.

"Not at all, my lord. I have the company of a kitchen maid, Ms Kelly, a skivvy, Ms Rowlinson, and of course Billy the stableboy. Unfortunately, Monsieur LaCroix, the late Earl's chef, has been employed by the Knowlsleys, but Ms Kelly is not at all incompetent in the art of cooking."

"So we're not completely helpless. Very well," Alexander answered and paid the cab driver for the trip. He mumbled a thanks and drove off into the night. Matilda looked after the carriage driving out of the fenced courtyard with a stricken face, balling her fists, as if angry that the driver got to take the carriage away and not her along with it.

Hanson took Alexander's suitcase and looked expectantly at Matilda, and then back at Alexander. He was no doubt wondering about the nature of Matilda's presence, Alexander realised and cleared his throat.

"She doesn't have any luggage," Alexander explained, and Matilda snorted. Alexander ignored her, and Hanson wisely followed his example. "Will you ask the maid - was it Ms Kelly? - to prepare the yellow guest room for Ms. Waters?"

Hanson nodded and courteously didn't say another word.

Inside, the house looked like it had always done, but through the halfway-open doors leading from the grand entrance hall to the parlours and sitting rooms on each side, Alexander could see the works of art and costly Regency-era furniture covered up on sheets of linen. From the hall, a large white marble staircase led to the piano nobile. The house was as quiet as the grave, and lit by a few, solemn wax candles, bathing the exquisite interior in an eerie, flickering light

A shiver ran down Alexander's back. Ellismere House was so distinctively Edward's. Edward had always preferred London, with its bustling offer of entertainment and parties, to the calm country living at Haversholme. He and Penelope had quickly after their marriage made the London house their primary residence, leaving the Duvelle family's ancestral home to their mother, Lady Adelaide Duvelle, the dowager Countess. Alexander had never felt at home in Ellismere House, but then again, he'd never had that feeling either at Haversholme. He was always a guest who overstayed, always someone, who didn't quite belong - a familial parasite, who leeched onto the kinship of the Duvelles. And now, by the irony of fate, he was the owner of both houses.