Improper Ladies (19 page)

Relief swept over Caroline. She should have known her sister better; Phoebe did not have a condemning bone in her body. But she was far too curious for her own good.

“I certainly will not ‘tell you all about it.’ The people were generally most unfascinating, too drunk to walk straight, let alone converse. It was a dreadful life, and we are well away from it here.”

Phoebe’s face, so avid and shining only a moment before, darkened. “Only we will not be here much longer. All because of Lord Lyndon. I suppose he came to your . . . your place frequently, and that is how he knew you. Though I must say it took long enough for him to recognize you.”

Caroline shook her head. “I always wore a mask, so no one could recognize me. And it was actually Harry Seward who was a frequent visitor. I only saw Lord Lyndon there twice, once when he came with his brother right after his return from India and then the day after.”

“Why did he come then?”

Caroline hesitated. The story of Harry Seward and his fight was so very inappropriate for a young girl’s ears. But then, she had already told this particular young girl the rest of the sordid story.

“Mr. Seward had a ... a disagreement with another patron, which resulted in some furniture breaking.”

Phoebe nodded sagely. “A brawl. That sounds like something Harry Seward would do.”

“You are not disappointed, dear? I know you are rather fond of him.”

“Perhaps I was, once. Now I am through with him and all his family. I suppose Lord Lyndon paid off his brother’s debts on that second visit?”

“Yes. When he was there, I tripped.” She looked down ruefully at her swollen appendage. “Much like today. He came to my assistance and saw the scar.”

“So that is how he knew you,” Phoebe murmured. “Oh, my poor, poor Caro! And now we must go away.”

Yes. They had to go away. “You can see why, can you not? We will be ruined if we stay.”

“Like Mary, I will go with you anywhere you like. You are the best sister in the world, and I have been such a trial to you!” Phoebe threw herself into Caroline’s arms, crying contritely, “I will never be any trouble to you again, I swear.”

Caroline kissed the top of Phoebe’s head and held her close. “You could never be a trial to me, Phoebe. You are all my family now, and I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I will help you, I promise. I will make everything better.”

“You make things better just by being here.”

Phoebe hugged her once more, then stood up and walked toward the door. “I will just go and start my own packing now. I’m supposed to have tea with Sarah later, and I can tell her good-bye then. You just rest, Caro.” She smiled and ran off.

Caroline looked after her suspiciously. “Do you believe she is just going to pack, Mary?” she asked.

Mary just pressed the glass of milk and brandy into her hand and said, “Drink this, madam. It will help you feel better.”

“I am here to see Lord Lyndon,” Phoebe said stoutly, facing down the prune-faced butler with her hands on her hips. “If you please.”

The butler’s lips flattened even farther, and he kept a firm grip on the door, leaving Phoebe on the doorstep. “His lordship is occupied at the moment, Miss ...”

“I am Miss Lane.”

“Miss Lane. His lordship is occupied at the moment with important business and is not accepting visitors.”

Phoebe felt a hot flare of temper in her stomach spreading up until it threatened to burst forth in a torrent of screaming, shouting, and generally unladylike behavior. Her sister was in despair, all because of Lord Lyndon, and he sat smug in his house, guarded by this elderly dragon of a gatekeeper.

She stamped her foot. “
I
happen to have ‘important business’ with his lordship, and I will see him right now!”

With that, she burst past the shocked butler and through the front door. She dashed down the corridor, looking quickly into the doorways she passed, the butler hard on her heels. For such an old man, he was incredibly quick.

But not quick enough for Phoebe.

She finally found Lord Lyndon in the library, sitting behind a large desk with a decanter of what looked like brandy.

Phoebe marched up to the desk and planted her hands flat on the cool wooden surface. “How dare you, you wicked man!” she shouted.

 

 

Justin had been sitting alone in his library with his brandy for about two hours, feeling more and more guilty over his behavior toward Caroline, trying to drown the image of her white, stricken face in the amber liquid’s warmth, when he heard the commotion in the foyer. Loud, raised voices, Richards’s and a woman’s.

Justin shook his head. He hoped it wasn’t someone Harry knew, come to cause trouble. He had enough trouble of his own without dealing with Harry’s messes.

Then the voices came closer. He heard a rather familiar one insist, “I
will
see Lord Lyndon!”

Miss Lane’s voice?

He put the glass carefully back down on the desk. Surely he had not drunk enough of the stuff to be hearing things! His head did not feel in the least bit fuzzy. But not even Miss Lane would come to a gentleman’s house and shout at his butler.

Would she?

Then the library door burst open, and Phoebe did indeed stand there. She had changed from her bathing costume into a somewhat respectable bright green gown, but her hair fell down in a mass of curls that positively writhed with indignation.

She strode across the carpet, arms akimbo, then leaned across the desk and shouted, “How dare you, you wicked man!”

Justin just stared up at her frowning face. He had never been called a “wicked man” by a young miss before, and he hardly knew what to say. Should he ask her to sit down? Offer her a brandy? Let her pummel him thoroughly, as she so obviously longed to do?

This was all completely outside his realm of experience. All he could seem to do was stare at her rather stupidly.

Richards appeared at the door, puffing to catch his breath. “My lord,” he gasped. “I am so sorry! The young lady . . . she pushed past me....”

Justin rose slowly to his feet. “That is quite all right, Richards. You might fetch my mother, and have some refreshments sent in.” Yes. His mother would know what to do.

“Very good, my lord.” Richards bowed and gratefully retreated.

Justin turned back reluctantly to face Miss Lane.

She stood with her fists planted on her hips, glaring at him. “This is not a social call. You needn’t have ordered refreshments.”

Justin propped his hip against the desk and crossed his own arms over his chest. He knew it was quite improper to be in his shirtsleeves, but he didn’t want to risk pushing past Medusa to retrieve his coat. “You look as if you have been running a long way. I thought some tea might be in order.”

“I don’t want anything from you! You are a wi—”

“I know,” he interjected dryly. “I am a wicked man.”

“You are. A very wicked man. Caroline says we must leave here and go abroad, all because of you. We were happy here, and you ruined everything.”

Justin rubbed wearily at his jaw. She was leaving. Leaving. His mind repeated that one word over and over.

“So you knew, too?” he muttered. “Everyone knew the truth but me.”

Phoebe shook her head. “I did not know. All these years I thought she was companion to Mr. Aldritch’s old aunt. She just told me this afternoon, to explain why we have to leave so quickly.”

“And you were not angry that your sister lied to you?”

She looked shocked. “Of course not! Caroline is the very best of sisters. She always has been.” Phoebe bit her lip, her eyes suddenly swimming in tears. One drop spilled free, and she wiped it impatiently away. “It was all my fault.”

“Your fault?” Justin said sharply. “Why? Were you the one who concocted this scheme to run a gaming establishment, to fleece young men like Harry of their money? To go about in disguise?”

“There is no need to be sarcastic, Lord Lyndon. And Harry is hardly some poor lamb to the slaughter. He practically begs people to take money from his pockets; even I can see that. I am not the stupid little girl everyone thinks me.” Phoebe sat down, dropping heavily into the chair beside the desk. “And you are trying to distract me, but it will not work.”

This conversation was getting more and more bizarre. Justin wondered if he had fallen asleep at his desk and was having a brandy-induced dream. “Trying to distract you from what, Miss Lane?”

“From my purpose in coming here.”

“Which is?”

“To tell you what a looby you are, of course. A wicked looby.”

Justin choked. “A—what?”

“A looby.” Phoebe shrugged. “It is a word I heard your brother use. And I am sure you are one. You were mean to my sister. She is an absolute angel, and you were cruel to her!”

He
had
been cruel. Justin knew that and was ashamed of it, though, truth to tell, he remembered little of the scene on the shore. He had been in a fog of shock and dismay. “Was I?”

“Caroline would never have done what she did if not for me.” Phoebe stared past him, obviously in her own world of recriminations, regrets, and memories. “She hated that Silver Plume place. I could see the revulsion on her face when she spoke of it.”

“Golden Feather,” Justin automatically corrected.

Phoebe went on as if he had not spoken. “I am sure she would have gone to be a companion to her husband’s aunt when he died. But Mrs. Medlock’s School, dull as it was, was very expensive. And my clothes, my gewgaws, my pin money.” She seized a handful of her green skirt, as if to tear it away. “If I had known, I would not have taken any of those things! I would have left school and taken a position with some other old lady. I would not have let her do that!”

Justin sensed that she was going into hysterics, and looked frantically to the door. Where the deuce
was
his mother?

When Amelia didn’t appear, he did the only thing he could think of. He poured a small measure of brandy into a glass and pressed it into her hand.

She sniffled and looked down at it with interest. “Is this brandy?”

“Yes. It will help you calm down.”

“I’ve never had brandy before,” she said. Then she gulped it all down.

And promptly began to choke.

“Miss Lane!” Justin thumped her on the back until she stopped wheezing. “You must sip it slowly if you are not accustomed to it.”

“You might have told me that before.” She eyed the decanter. “May I have some more?”

“Certainly not.” Relieved that the coughing, as well as the hysterics, had passed, Justin sat down in a chair across from her. “So Lawrence left your sister no money at all?” he asked, going back to their previous conversation.

Phoebe shook her head. “Not a farthing. Just that ... that place, which he won in a card game. And, as I said, Mrs. Medlock’s was expensive. I would have left there in an instant if Caroline had come for me, but she did not. I am sure she never even considered it. She has always tried to protect me, even when we were children. That is why I have come here today.”

Justin was not sure he followed her reasoning. “Why is that, Miss Lane?”

“Because Caroline has always done everything for me. For four years she worked and sacrificed so that I could have a future.” Phoebe looked down at where her fist was balled in her skirt. “And today, when I saw how in despair she was, how you hurt her, something inside of me just ... broke.” She smoothed out her skirt and raised her gaze to meet his. “My sister is a lady, Lord Lyndon. The finest lady who ever lived in England, I am sure. I could not allow you, or anyone, to treat her as anything else.”

Justin sat back in stunned silence. He had thought Miss Lane to be a rather flighty young woman. But she spoke the truest words he had ever heard, solidifying the vague thoughts that had been floating around in his confused mind all afternoon.

Caroline Aldritch was a true lady. And he had been too blind to see that.

He had thought himself a fool for not seeing that she was Mrs. Archer. Now he knew, like a flash of clarifying light, that he had not really been a fool until the moment he walked away from her on the shore.

The woman he had known these past weeks in Wycombe, the graceful, intelligent, understanding woman he talked to, danced with, and kissed was the real Caroline. And it had been even when she wore the mask of Mrs. Archer.

She was a woman who would live a life she disliked, even hated, for four long years for the love of her sister. If Justin could understand anything, he understood that. Harry was obnoxious at times, yes, but Justin would do anything to keep him safe, to make certain that his future was happy and secure.

Caroline had done the same thing, and he had condemned her for it, abandoned her. Now she was leaving. He had lost her.

Justin groaned and turned his face away from Phoebe, who was crying softly again. In one afternoon, his life had swung in so many different directions he hardly knew where to go.

But he did know that Phoebe was right. He
was
a wicked man, a hypocritical one, who had almost carelessly smashed the lives of the two sisters.

“Caroline says we have to go abroad, because you will tell everyone about the “Copper Quill” and we will be ruined. Not even Sarah will talk to me anymore if I am ruined,” Phoebe sobbed. “I don’t want to go abroad!”

“You will not have to, Miss Lane. I will never tell anyone.”

Phoebe looked up, cautiously hopeful. “Do you promise?”

“I promise, on my father’s grave.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but his mother came into the room, with Harry close behind her.

“Justin, what is this nonsense Richards says about Miss Lane being in here with—” Amelia broke off when she saw the young lady actually sitting there. “Oh. Good afternoon, Miss Lane.”