Barbara Metzger (16 page)

But Carissa knew Mason was no ascetic, no pious churchgoer. He drank, he swore, he did not attend church with the other servants on Sundays. And nowhere in that nearly new Bible did it say
Do unto others as much as you can get away with.
Lord Hartleigh was right: Mason had another life somewhere else. No one could live so long in one place without accumulating something, even a letter. Although Mason never seemed to have mail, Carissa had always assumed he'd removed his personal correspondence before she saw the day's delivery. He never took a vacation, either, now that she thought of it, only his days and half days off.

Where was he going then, on his frequent trips away from the house, and what was he doing with his money? Most of all, Carissa wished she knew why he needed so much more—hers.

The footman didn't look up when Carissa walked past him, her hands empty. She told him she couldn't find the sewing box. Perhaps one of the maids had borrowed it and forgotten to restore it to the attics. The footman cared more that his right hand owed his left hand a month's wages.

Broderick was limping up the walkway when she was leaving. His face brightened considerably. “What, did you reconsider m'offer, then, m'dear?"

"If I had reconsidered your offer, you clunch, I'd have had Lord Hartleigh run you through."

Broderick lost what color he had in his sallow complexion, and almost lost his lunch. A duel with the paragon? He'd heard what Lord Heartless had done to rearrange Lord Cosgrove's features. He liked his nose right where it was. He hurried to tell her: “Meant no offense, don't you know. Not hunting on the gentleman's preserves. Isn't done, of course, by Jove. You were visiting with the servants, of course. Foolish me, ha ha."

He was a fool, but that story would not fadge. “I was looking for something I left behind. My mother's sewing box. I thought it was in the attic, but could not find it. If it ever turns up, you might send it over."

"Of course, of course.” Broderick bowed and dashed into the house, lest the jade's new protector take umbrage at the conversation. He had enough trouble without annoying a nonesuch like Hartleigh.

Carissa's plate was full, too. Now she had no hopes of finding the will, no hopes of repaying his lordship, no hopes of avoiding his wicked, winsome ways. Staring at the ground in front of her, Carissa slowly trudged the short distance back to her new place of employment, where her respectability was receding as fast as her dreams. So lost was she in dismal thoughts that matched the dismal day, she again never noticed the figure that observed her from between houses.

The shadow detached itself from the gloom the better to watch her cross the street. When Carissa was one door away from her own, a hand reached out and grabbed her, dragging her into the alley. Positive it was Broderick, letting his wants override his wisdom after all, Carissa pulled the hatpin from her cap and stabbed it through her attacker's hand.

"Bloody hell, darling, is that any way to welcome your long-lost husband?"

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She wasn't surprised, not really. Oh, Carissa was startled by the assault, but she was not shocked to see her long-lost, unlamented husband again after four and a half years. She'd had that feeling, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched. And she'd always feared he'd show up again to plague her, because that's what the man did best. He was still sucking on his thumb, where she'd stabbed him. Tarnation, Pippa
had
inherited something from the toad.

"You ain't going to swoon, are you,
cara mia?"

She might have hoped he was, indeed, dead, but no, she was not astonished to see him alive. She was a bit confounded that Phillip Kane wasn't nearly so handsome as she remembered. Why couldn't she have seen beyond the uniform—most likely stolen—and the sweet talk, to see how coarse his features were? How his thin hair was mousy brown and greasy, how he had black spots in the pores near his nose? Why, he had hair growing out of his ears and was barely two inches taller than she was. How could she have thought him so attractive?

"No, Phillip. I am not going to get missish. What are you doing here and what do you want?"

"Sharp-tongued as ever, I see.” He sneered at her mobcap, the shapeless black dress she was wearing. “And you still don't know much about pleasing a man."

"I know that my father's blunt was all that you found pleasing. I was everything admirable, until you realized the money was not forthcoming. You abandoned me, you dastard, while I was about to have your baby. Not once since then have you provided for us, so why have you come now?"

"Now, Carrie, don't be so harsh. I've been out of the country, don't you know. And with the war on, correspondence was difficult. I meant to get in touch with you—"

"You were never with the army, Phillip. I had them search and search their records. I don't know where you got the uniform, and neither did the War Office, so cut line and tell me what you want."

Kane must have realized that his adoring little wife had grown into a woman of backbone, for he traded his Spanish coin for bluntness that matched her own. “I had a spot of trouble with the military, so I left. Then I saw no reason to meddle when you were snug as a bug in the banker's bed. I've been hanging around, waiting for the old man to stick his spoon in the wall. Been an expensive wait, I'll have you know. And now it turns out he never left you a groat. What did you do to queer that deal, show him your hatpin?"

"That deal, as you call it, was never legalized. Sir Gilliam did mean to mention me in his will, but it seems I have been swindled by yet another scoundrel."

"Damn, I had plans for that house.” Kane stared across the street at the tidy brownstone. “An exclusive club, gentlemen only, don't you know. High stakes, high fliers, all the best."

"You were going to turn my house, Sir Gilliam's house, into a gaming hell? I suppose I should be thankful you weren't thinking of a bordello instead. There is no way on earth or in heaven that I would permit you to do such a thing, if I had, in fact, inherited the property."

"Now, Carrie, my love, you just ain't behaving like a proper wife. A wife whose property belongs to her lawful husband."

He could do it, she thought. Phillip Kane could claim everything she owned, trifling as it was. He could claim his marital rights. He could claim Pippa. An icy chill clutched at her insides. Carissa feared she might swoon, after all. “Oh, why couldn't you have stayed gone?” she cried. “I could have had you declared legally dead in a few years, and been rid of you once and for all."

Phillip examined his frayed cuffs. “Because I didn't have the brass to stay gone, that's why. I tried to get the rhino from your father, you know."

"My father?” Now she was surprised. “Why did you think he'd give you my dowry now, when he wouldn't while we were living together?"

"I told him you were in Hartleigh's keeping. I thought he might care to finance your trip abroad, with your loving husband, of course, to avoid the scandal of anyone knowing Macclesfield's daughter was a demi-mondaine."

"I'm not in—"

"Trying to get soup out of a stone, it was. The earl said he didn't care if you were living with Old Harry, you were no kin to him. I'll admit I miscalculated there, darling. Never thought the old stick would cut you off without a shilling, and me with you. Then I figured he'd take you back in, and the babe."

"Oh, so you weren't altogether coldhearted when you deserted me?"

"Never had anything against you, Carrie, until you started getting all touchy about the money."

"It was my mother's money, which she'd left to me! You went through it in a month. Then you left!"

He sighed. “Water under the bridge,
cara mia,
water under the bridge. You must have put some money away since then. For sure you ain't spent it on your wardrobe. You won't need the blunt now that you've landed in clover. Hartleigh's said to be rich as Golden Ball, though you'd never know it, looking at you."

"I am his housekeeper, Phillip, his employee, that's all."

"And that's why the shabby clothes? Well, let me tell you, darling, the masquerade hasn't fooled anyone yet, according to the chitchat in the local pubs. You might as well give it up and start asking for silk and fur."

"The only thing I would ask his lordship for is better locks on his door, to keep out riffraff like you, Phillip Kane."

"Hoity-toity, my lady. And how long do you think he'll keep you if I charge him in a criminal conversation case?"

"You wouldn't! He hasn't shown me anything but kindness! How could you think of doing such a thing?"

Phillip shrugged. “How can I live, else?"

Carissa untied the strings of her reticule and pulled out what money she had there. Some of it was from the household account. She'd have to make a new entry in the ledger, she thought, her mind in a muddle.

Phillip pocketed the coins and bills, but it wasn't enough. “I know you've got more squirreled away, Carrie. Frugal little thing like you most likely has a fortune tucked under her mattress."

"My savings are for Pippa, so she'll have some kind of future."

"Ah yes, the child. I have to say I was touched when I heard you'd named her for me. Very affecting, my dear."

"I wanted her to have
something
from her father. A name and a miniature painting are little enough for a child."

Kane reached for her arm. “You know, perhaps you're right and I should go make her acquaintance right now."

"No! You stay away from her. I'll ... I'll get you some more money, by tomorrow. But don't think to bleed me, Phillip, for the well will run dry very quickly. I was hoping as much as you were that Sir Gilliam would leave me a bequest.” Then she had a brilliant idea. “In fact, he might have...."

Carissa managed to convince her dead husband that it was very much in his interest to break into Mr. Nigel Gordon's law office to look for an updated will. They could split the inheritance, whatever it was, and he could go off again, hopefully forever this time. She knew there was small chance of the will being at the solicitor's, about as small a chance as Phillip Kane giving her a fair share. Still, he couldn't collect anything without her, so Carissa stood to gain something, even if it was seeing the last of the muckworm. With any luck, he'd get arrested.

No, with her luck he'd name Carissa as an accessory to the crime and she'd be transported with him. It made no difference, for she would never be free of the villain she'd married. She'd never feel safe again, even if he went away, not knowing when he'd run out of money and return to plague her, like a seven-year locust.

He'd declared his intention of coming back at the end of the week for her savings. Carissa decided she simply would not leave the house. Cook could do the marketing, the footmen could do the errands. She was much too busy anyway, what with the renovations, the lessons for Pippa and whatever servants were interested, the menus, and sewing her new habit. No, she wouldn't step outside the house. Or else, if she needed to match her thread, she'd take Byrd with her to carry the bobbin.

She'd be safe in Lord Hartleigh's house. Pippa would be safe there too. The viscount wouldn't let anything happen to her, to them. Carissa knew it, as well as she knew Phillip Kane would seek her out again and again. She couldn't help thinking the only truly safe place for her was in Lord Hartleigh's arms. He'd know what to do, how to protect her and Pippa. But she was just an employee, as she'd told Phillip, with no claims to his protection. She was just the housekeeper.

Damn if faro's daughters weren't half as entertaining as Mrs. Kane's daughter. Lesley was having a grand time, sitting on the floor of the nursery, playing at jackstraws. If his friends at White's knew he'd come hurrying home to play with the poppets before their bedtime, he'd be the laughingstock of London. They all thought he was rushing away to embrace his new inamorata. The rumor mill was working quite up to his expectations. Already he was receiving fewer invitations to debutante balls and various hopeful mamas were looking at him askance. Askance was better than as a catch.

His new ladybird was a soldier's widow, the gossip went. An upper servant. A rich man's mistress. She was the mother of his child. She was the mother of his children. If Prinny could have a common-law wife, the
on dits
went, so could Lord Heartless. He wasn't growing tamely domestic, just tripping down the primrose path with a new demirep, who happened to have a child or two.

Lesley couldn't wait until he took Mrs. Kane to the park in her new habit, with the fashionable bonnet he'd purchased this morning. She would be a stunning woman, he thought, and so no one would doubt the dalliance. Pippa on her pony between them should put paid to his stepmother's scheming, even if Maisie and Sue stayed home. A few days more and then he really had to do something about finding Sue a good home. Lesley couldn't imagine a better one than this, however, where the infant was the center of attention, both servants’ and master's.

Another reason the viscount left White's earlier than usual was that he really did wish to take dinner at his own table. His new cook could outdo the finest French chef, and the menus were designed around his own preferences for once.

Who was he fooling? Not himself, obviously, judging from the time he was spending at his bath and toilette. He'd come home with hopes of convincing Mrs. Kane to have dinner with him. There, Lesley could admit it to himself, as peculiar as the notion was. She wasn't a comet; she wasn't even accommodating. She was softhearted and sincere, though, and could show real affection, unlike the brittle beauties of the ton. He would rather watch ideas and emotions flicker across her face than watch the half-dressed dancers scamper across the stage at Drury Lane.

She'd wear the gold gown to dinner, he envisioned, with her gleaming hair up and the neckline down. By George, he should forbid her usual attire in his house, say that wretched mobcap and those dreary black gowns made him bilious or some such. Of course, his efficient Mrs. Kane would likely fix him a posset, because that was her job.