Swept Away (10 page)

“Yes, I own that it was hard to believe, but it's hard to imagine someone laying such a detailed plan to get Selby. And why Selby? Everyone liked him.”

“Apparently not everyone. But I doubt that it was any particular spite directed at Selby. I think it was rather that he was the most logical candidate, since he handled most of Thomas's affairs. Such a letter coming from one of the rest of you might have aroused suspicion in the agent, don't you think?”

“I suppose.”

“Are you saying that some other chap stole young Thomas's money?” Fitzmaurice asked, understanding beginning to dawn on his face.

“You are exactly right, Major,” Phoebe assured him.

“And he made it look as if Selby had done it?” Fitzmaurice looked indignant. “Well, I say! That was a damned shabby thing to do. Beg your pardon, ladies.”

“It's perfectly all right, Major,” Julia said graciously. “That is precisely what I think, too.”

“I'm not saying that you aren't right,” Varian said slowly. “No one could be happier than I would be if it turned out that it was not Selby. But I'm afraid I don't see how you could
prove
that it was not he.”

Julia was aware of her cousin stirring anxiously, but she ignored him. “Oh,” she said with a vague wave of her hand, “that is my secret. We wouldn't want word to get out.”

Geoffrey relaxed with a faint sigh.

“But if you are right,” Varian persisted, “and it was the work of some other person, don't you think that it is rather dangerous for you and Lady Armiger to be trying to find out his identity? If he was unscrupulous enough to not only steal the money but ruin a man in the process, I'd say he was a dangerous person.”

“That's right,” Fitzmaurice chimed in. “Wouldn't be a gentleman.”

Geoffrey let out a choked sound and suddenly found something of great interest to look at on the floor.

“I daresay you are right,” Julia allowed, suppressing her own smile. “He is no gentleman. But I doubt that there is any danger. The man must be a coward. Look at his actions! No bold and daring thievery there, but a sneaking sort of stealing, involving no real danger to himself. And to lay the blame on someone else—it's the act of a coward.”

“But even a coward, if cornered, can turn on you,” Varian warned.

“I'm no milk-and-water miss. If that happens, I will be able to take care of myself.”

These words only served to make Varian look even more worried, but he said nothing more on the subject.

Major Fitzmaurice spoke up unexpectedly. “I remember once when we had a thief in the regiment. Bad business, that.”

“Indeed?” Phoebe asked with polite interest. “And did you manage to catch him?”

“Oh, yes. Well, I mean, not I. I didn't know he'd been stealing until after it was all over. Been stealing out of other men's kits, you see. Joseph Bollinger was the one who caught him—always a canny one, he was. Not good ton, of course. Wouldn't present him to your sister, say, but a lot in his brain box.” He frowned, remembering. “Never could understand him.”

“How edifying,” Geoffrey said with awful irony and stood up. “I am sorry, ladies, but I am afraid that I must take my leave now. Arranged to meet someone at my club.”

“Of course.” Julia smiled at him. “I quite understand.”

“Going to Brooks's?” Fitzmaurice asked. “Wait, and I'll walk with you. I've been meaning to talk to you. Came around to your house the other day, but you wasn't there. In need of a little advice—it's my valet, you see.”

“Of course it is.”

Julia suppressed a smile at her cousin's frozen expression as the two men left the room. Varian St. Leger stayed a few minutes longer, once again entreating her to reconsider the idea of catching the embezzler. Phoebe seemed pleased by his solicitude, but Julia grew impatient after a time, and when he finally took his leave, she let out a gusty sigh of relief.

“Thank heavens they're gone. I would never have told them if I had known that Varian would be so old-maidish about the whole thing.”

“I thought it was very kind of him to be so concerned about us,” Phoebe protested gently.

Julia looked at her sister-in-law closely. She wondered if perhaps Phoebe had a special feeling for her husband's old friend. Varian would, Julia supposed, make a good match for Phoebe. He was invariably kind and solicitous, and his breeding was impeccable. If he was a trifle dull compared to Selby, well, she had to admit that it would be difficult to find another such as her brother had been—particularly among their rustic neighbors. And, much as Phoebe had loved and mourned Selby, she was not the sort of woman who would be happy living a single life. She was a sweet creature who needed someone to fuss over and admire as much as she needed someone to lean on. Still, Julia could not but feel a little pang of sorrow at the thought that someday in the not too distant future she would probably lose the company of her sister-in-law and nephew, if not to Varian St. Leger, then to some other man.

It was a lowering thought. Julia was a warm and affectionate creature, used to loving relationships with both her parents and her brother. She knew that it would be difficult for her to live a life alone, but she saw little chance for anything else. She had been cut off from Society during the past few years, when she had been of an age when most young girls made eligible marriages. Even if she was able to get Stonehaven to confess and thus save her family name from dishonor, she was old enough, at twenty-four, that she would probably be considered a spinster. Certainly she would be past the age of making her come-out in London, and, besides, she had no older female relative to act as her chaperon, anyway.

There were certainly no men among her limited acquaintance in Kent whom she could bear the thought of marrying, and, besides, she was beginning to feel that perhaps she was too independent to marry any man. Kind though Varian St. Leger might be, his warnings and disapproval irritated her. Even her cousin had been doubtful and questioning about her scheme. And she was not even a dependent of either one of them! She could well imagine what life with a husband must be like, always full of strictures, warnings and rules.

Nor could she think of a single man who could live up to her ideal of what a man should be. She supposed that having a brother like Selby had spoiled her. He had been so fun and full of life, always ready with a quip or a story. But he had by no means been a lightweight. He had been a man of courage and principle, the sort of man who was a bruising rider to the hounds but was also a concerned and dutiful landlord to the tenants of his estate. She could not imagine marrying a lesser man, could not tie herself to someone with whom she could not share laughter and problems and intelligent conversations.

Lord Stonehaven's image popped into her mind, startling her, and she immediately pushed it away.
How absurd!
Handsome he might be, and clever, as well as possessed of a certain charm, but she could not imagine anyone whom she would be less likely to marry. Not only was he a man of low character, he was her enemy, her nemesis!

“Julia? Julia?” Phoebe's voice cut through her thoughts.

Julia looked at her and realized from the other woman's puzzled expression that she must have said Julia's name several times. “What?”

“Is something the matter?” Phoebe asked in concern. “You had the fiercest look on your face.”

“No, I—my mind was just wandering. I'm sorry. You are right. Varian was simply being kind. No doubt my nerves are stretched, waiting for tomorrow night.” She had not told Phoebe where she was going, knowing that she would be horrified to think that Julia would be alone in a box at Vauxhall Gardens with Lord Stonehaven. However, she had let her know that she thought that the next evening might bring what they had wished for.

“I know. Poor dear…aren't you frightened?”

“Frightened? No. At least, only of failing at my task. No harm is going to come to me.”

Phoebe frowned. “I cannot help but worry. What if he were to find out who you are? Or what you are up to? He is
not
a gentleman—I mean, not in the true sense of the word.”

“It won't happen. I won't let the truth slip out. I don't think he would hurt me, anyway.” She didn't know exactly why she was so sure of this fact, but she was. “The worst that could happen would be that he would tell everyone how I was masquerading at Madame Beauclaire's, but I don't think he would relish the world knowing that he had been so gullible that I had been able to take him in.”

“If you are sure, dear…”

“I'm positive. Now, let's talk of something else. What do you say we steal Master Gilbert away from Nurse and take him for a romp in the park?”

This idea pleased Phoebe immensely, and so they spent the rest of the day with Gilbert, playing games and chasing butterflies, returning so tired that they were happy to dine and go to bed at an unfashionably early hour.

Julia fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and was deep in slumber some hours later when an unaccustomed noise brought her awake. She opened her eyes, confused and not knowing what had awakened her. Her room looked much the same as always. She turned her head toward the other side of the room, where the two long windows stood open to let in the cool night air. There, in front of one of the windows, silhouetted by the pale light from outside, stood the dark figure of a man.

I
t took a moment for it to register in Julia's sleep-numbed brain that there was an intruder in her room. She lay frozen, gazing at him. His face was a dark blank, devoid of features. Then the dark form started across the room toward her in a rush. The movement released Julia from her paralysis, and she screamed at the top of her lungs, throwing back the covers and leaping out of bed. Instinctively she reached out and grasped the first thing she could find on her bedstand.

It was a book, and she brought it up and swung it with all her might. The heavy tome crashed into the side of the man's head, and he let out a yelp of surprise and pain. Julia screamed again and pulled back for another swipe with her weapon. The man backed away hastily.

At that moment Phoebe's voice sounded in the hall, calling Julia's name, and in the next instant the door crashed open and Phoebe ran in, brandishing a large metal candleholder. Her appearance broke the attacker's nerve. He turned and dashed back to the window. Julia pursued him, with Phoebe right behind her, and the man barely managed to make it out the window before Julia reached it.

He grasped a branch and swung recklessly out, moving hand over hand across it until he reached a branch on which to put his feet.

“Blast!” Julia cried. “He's getting away.”

Phoebe joined her at the window, and they stood looking down at the man who descended the tree like a monkey. Out in the hall there was the sound of running feet and several voices. Then Sidle, the butler, rushed into the room clad in a nightshirt, his nightcap tilted over one ear and perilously hanging, and one of Selby's dueling pistols in his hand. Right behind him came Mrs. Willett, her stout form encased in a bright yellow wrapper, carrying a rolling pin. Bringing up the train were two footmen and a pair of maids, all wide-eyed.

Julia had to hide a smile at the sight of them. “It's all right,” she reassured them. “He's gotten away.”

“What happened, miss?” Sidle asked, hurrying to the window and looking down in time to see the dark figure scale the wall to the street and disappear. “Burglar?”

“Yes, it must have been, I suppose,” Julia said, amazed to find that her knees were suddenly weak. She sat down on the window seat, and Phoebe joined her, curling a comforting arm around Julia's shoulders.

“How awful for you!”

“Did he take anything, miss?” This came from the housekeeper, who was pragmatically engaged in lighting a candle.

“No. He hadn't time. It must have awakened me when he came in the window. I screamed and he ran at me—to stop me screaming, I guess. Then I hit him, and Phoebe came in, and he ran.”

“A fine thing we're coming to,” Mrs. Willett went on indignantly, “when robbers are climbing into respectable houses and scaring the wits out of everyone.”

“Yes, I daresay.”

The housekeeper went on in this fashion for several more minutes, bemoaning the state of the city these days and the morals of its people, until finally Julia managed to stem her tide of words and shoo all the servants out of the room. Sidle was somewhat reluctant to leave, fearing for Julia's safety, but he finally cleared his mind by decreeing that the two footmen must take turns standing guard in the garden for the rest of the night. Neither of the footmen looked entirely happy about this decree, but they left without grumbling, along with the others. Julia closed the door behind them and turned back to Phoebe.

“Oh, Julia! Was it horrible?” Phoebe asked sympathetically. “Were you terribly scared?”

“Shocked, is more like it,” Julia said. “I wasn't frightened until afterward. It all happened so quickly—I just did the first thing that came into my mind.”

“Yes, whacked him over the head.” Phoebe giggled. “He must have been astonished to find you awake and attacking
him!
”

Julia smiled. “I imagine he was. He seems a singularly incompetent thief. Why did he go to the trouble to climb that tree? He could have broken in downstairs with much less effort—and not awakened anyone, either. Besides, the silver and expensive things are downstairs.”

“No doubt he was looking for jewels. How was he to know he was climbing into the room of a young woman who would have nothing but a string of pearls in her jewelry box?”

“I suppose.” Julia sighed and looked at the open window. “I shall have to close and lock my windows now. I do hate sleeping in a stuffy room.”

Phoebe patted her hand sympathetically. “This will be over soon, and we can go back to Greenwood. To tell you the truth, I will be glad to leave London.”

Julia nodded. “It can't have been much fun for you.” There had been, of course, none of the parties and entertainments that Phoebe and Selby had enjoyed in the past when they visited the city. Phoebe had not even had the excitement of trying to trap Lord Stonehaven. She had merely been stuck in a smaller house than she was used to with a six-year-old boy deprived of his normal country pursuits.

Phoebe smiled. “It was fun to shop and, oh, just to see the sights again. I had forgotten what a bustle there always is here. I like the city—although I have to admit I can't help but feel a little jealous when I think of how we used to go to the opera and the theater and all those parties. Am I very wicked? I do hate so being snubbed.”

“Of course you're not wicked! It is the ones who snub us who are.
You
are the sweetest and kindest woman I know. It's only natural to like parties and such. I would think you very odd if you did not miss them. I miss them, too, and I have never even been to a London party.”

“They do rather throw the rector's wife's dinner parties into the shade,” Phoebe agreed with a dimpling grin.

She began to talk about some of the more elegant parties she and Selby had attended during their Seasons in London, and they pleasantly wiled away a half hour in this manner. By that time their nerves were restored, and Phoebe picked up her heavy candlestick and went back to her own bedchamber. Julia closed both her windows and locked them and, on a sudden impulse, even turned the key in the lock of her door. Then, blowing out the candle, she climbed into bed.

It was some time, however, before she was able to go to sleep—although she was not sure whether this fact was caused by nerves over the attacker or over her upcoming dealings with Lord Stonehaven. Whatever the cause, as a result she slept very late the next morning.

She spent much of the afternoon in her room, altering one of her mother's old gowns. Being several years old, it was not quite a` la mode and required fairly extensive renovations. The dress was dark royal blue and consisted of a silk underdress covered by a layer of very sheer silk decorated with lace. Julia had had the idea for converting the dress the other night when she had seen the boldly dressed woman at Alfred's house. She redid the bodice, carefully taking out the thicker silk layer beneath the lace on the bodice. She also narrowed the skirt, as it was fuller than was fashionable now.

The result, when she put it on, made her blush. She was not as exposed as the woman the other night had been. The lace was thick enough that one could not actually see her nipples, but enough of her skin showed through to make it extremely titillating. The neckline was a trifle high, not the low, square-cut neck that was popular nowadays, but given the tantalizing glimpses of bare flesh beneath, Julia thought that it was rather more alluring with a high neckline. Thank God for her light cloak, she thought, for Phoebe would never have let her out of the house looking like this.

She took a long, soaking bath in water perfumed with attar of roses, letting the hot water soothe her jangled nerves. Her abigail then put up her hair in a simple style with only a small knot of ribbons for decoration, for Julia thought it best not to do anything that would distract one's eye from her scandalous dress. After that, the girl helped her dress, for it was impossible to button up the frock in the back without help. Delicate sandals completed the outfit. She would have liked to add a touch of color to her cheeks and lips, but as she had no pots of rouge, she had to content herself with pinching her cheeks and pressing her lips together to deepen their rosiness.

She was ready to go, but a glance at the clock on her mantel told her that she was almost an hour too early. She waited, pacing the floor, her nerves growing by the moment. Phoebe came to visit her, and Julia hastily grabbed a shawl and wrapped it around her to conceal the revealing bodice. Phoebe, not seeing the bodice, approved of the dress and assured Julia that she looked wonderful. The deep blue color, she told her, turned her eyes a wonderful color.

Finally Julia left, wrapped in her light cloak and with a pale blue, lace-trimmed half mask upon her face. She had thought, trying it on earlier, that she looked rather good in the mask. It gave her a certain air of mystery, while emphasizing the blueness of her eyes. She was still a trifle early, but she could not bear to wait any longer. Once again she hailed a hackney and took it to the entrance of the Gardens. As Vauxhall lay on the other side of the Thames, she found the trip more unnerving than the others she had taken alone in a hackney. However, her driver acted with complete propriety, even asking her if she was certain that she wished to go there and warning her that it was no place for a young miss alone. She assured him that she was being met, and though he still seemed unsatisfied, he drove her there.

She was relieved when the conveyance drew up in front of the entrance and she saw Stonehaven's tall form waiting for her. She recognized him in an instant, even though he, too, wore the half mask that most of the revelers at Vauxhall Gardens masquerades wore. His was a very plain black silk, but it lent a certain piratical look to his lean face. She noticed that two lone women walking by cast eyes of interest over him.

Julia had been worried about what she would do if Stonehaven had not arrived yet. She had heard tales of the young bucks who frequented the gardens, openly ogling and even making advances toward unaccompanied females, which was the sort of thing she had never had to deal with. She jumped down from the carriage, smiling broadly in her relief. Stonehaven's face, which had looked stern, lightened when he saw her, and he strode toward her.

“There you are.” He reached out to take her hands, smiling, and his eyes glowed in a way that started her pulse pounding. “I was afraid you might have changed your mind.”

“I'm not late, am I?”

He chuckled. “No. 'Tis the other way around. I am early.”

There was a discreet cough from the driver of the hackney, reminding them that he had not yet been paid. Julia reached into her reticule, but before she could bring out her money, Stonehaven had already done so, giving the man a sum that made him grin hugely and tip his hat in appreciation.

“You needn't have done that,” Julia protested. “Besides, I am certain that you must have paid him too much.”

“Nonsense. A poor thing I should be if I let you pay for your own hackney. It's galling enough that you would not let me escort you.”

“I am well able to take care of myself. I am not, after all, a delicate flower of a maiden,” Julia commented dryly.

He leaned closer, breathing in her scent. “You smell like a delicate flower.” He brushed his knuckles lightly down her cheek. “And your skin is as soft as any rose petal.”

“You, sir, are an inveterate flatterer.”

“Nay. Ask anyone, and they will tell you I am fatally blunt.”

As they continued their light banter, he took her arm and was leading her into the center of the entertainment park, where the private boxes were lined up facing the central mall. He opened the door in the rear of one of the boxes and stepped back to allow her in.

It was a pleasant enough room, with a small table and a few chairs, as well as a sofa against the back wall. The front consisted of a waist-high wall, with the area above that open to the Gardens, but Julia noticed that at either end hung dark velvet curtains that could be drawn to avoid the stares of the vulgar crowd, if one wished to. An oil lamp glowed on a stand against the far wall, casting a low, warm light over the room, and a candelabra waited in readiness on the table. A covered supper had been laid out for them on the table, several bottles of wine already uncorked and “breathing” in readiness.

“I dispensed with the servant,” Stonehaven said, indicating the table. “I thought we could fend for ourselves tonight.”

“Yes, of course,” Julia answered a little breathlessly. Even as inexperienced as she was, she recognized that it was a scene set for seduction, from the plush curtains to the golden lamplight to the padded brocade couch.

“Here. Let me take your cloak.” He came forward, reaching out to take the wrap from her, but when Julia pulled it off, revealing for the first time the provocative dress, he stopped dead still. His words died in his throat, and he simply stared at her, his eyes traveling slowly down over her bosom, teasingly cupped by the array of lace, revealing and concealing her flesh in a manner designed to arouse.

His eyes flared with an unholy light, but he controlled himself enough to take her cloak, though there was the slightest tremor in his hand as he did so.

“You are very beautiful,” Stonehaven said, his voice husky.