Truth about Leo (11 page)

Julia hurried over to them, her face alight with pleasure, an expression that faded into confusion when Leo added in a tone that matched Dagmar's, “Just how exactly would you intend to silence me if the bridle is not used on my face?”

“You have
other
orifices on your body than your mouth,” she said with a toss of her head before marching up the five steps to the door.

“Princess!” Julia gasped, casting a scandalized look at her. “Ladies do not mention gentlemen's fundaments in such a manner!”

To Dagmar's surprise, Leo met her statement with a laugh. “If anyone told me that one day a princess would threaten to shove a medieval metal implement up my—” He stopped, eyed Julia, and with a twist of his lips, turned to pay the two carriage drivers.

The door behind Dagmar opened to reveal an unwashed servant in dirty, stained clothing. “Aye?” he asked, giving her a leering once-over that instantly made Dagmar feel itchy.

“Entrance without the opportunity of catching body vermin would be welcome, but I suspect not entirely possible,” she answered coldly, not appreciating the leer or the way the man moved to stand closer to her. She turned to look over her shoulder, calling out, “Leo, on what floor are your rooms?”

“Second,” he answered, evidently in the middle of an argument with one of the carriage drivers. “But don't go up yet. I'm not sure if the man who shares my lodgings is in or not.”

The repulsive man at the door sucked his teeth, continuing to eye her with a speculative glint that faded into a knowing half smile. Dagmar waited as patiently as she could until Leo returned, allowing him to escort her up three flights of narrow, ill-lit stairs until arriving at a small suite of rooms.

The rooms appeared to be empty and bore an uninhabited air that had Leo sighing in relief. “Looks like Nick is out of the country too.”

“Nick is the man with whom you share your rooms?”

“Yes. He also does some work for the government.”

“Does he do the same thing as you?” Dagmar asked, more because she wanted to keep Leo there than because she was interested in his friends. The way he was standing clearly indicated he was in pain.

Leo's gaze flickered briefly to Julia. “Something like that. Well, it looks like you ladies will have the place to yourself. Set the bags there, Jacob. I won't need you any further today, although you can check with the ladies later to see if they want tea or food. This, as you can see, is the sitting room. Stay here while I see the landlady. She is very strict about visitors and doesn't allow females at all.”

“That's going to make living here a little awkward,” Dagmar said, looking around, her eyes widening as she did so. The room was done in astonishing shades of pink-and-green plaid, not at all what she thought of as a gentleman's decor.

“She won't let you live here,” Leo said from the door, the white lines around his mouth etching a bit deeper.

Dagmar wanted desperately to make him rest but was at a loss as to how to go about doing that. He seemed disinclined to obey any orders given him, and she doubted whether tears would be effective, assuming she managed to summon them up.

“Then why are you seeing her?” she asked.

“I'm going to tell her that you're both here just a few hours while I find some sort of accommodation. Ring for Jacob if you need anything, and stay put and out of trouble. And don't wander around the rest of the house. Mrs. Lovelily wouldn't like that at all.”

“I have the feeling that we've been dumped just as summarily as our luggage,” Dagmar told Julia as the door closed behind Leo. “And I don't like that feeling one little bit.”

“I think it was a kindness of Lord March to bring us to his private lodgings rather than making us bounce around in those horrid carriages while he finds us a place to live,” Julia said, rubbing her arms against the chill in the room. “Do you think we might ask that man for a fire?”

Dagmar glanced at the fireplace but saw no coal. “We could, or we could warm up by means of a brisk walk around town. I'm anxious to see London after you've sung its praises so much, and Leo will probably be away for a few hours.”

“But dearest Dagmar, Lord March specifically said for us to stay here.” Julia looked horrified at the thought of disobeying Leo's strictures.

Oddly, that made Dagmar want to do so even more than before. She strolled over to the window and looked down on the street below. One of the carriages remained, obviously waiting for Leo. “We've been cooped up on a ship for endless months—”

“It wasn't really more than two weeks, my dear—”

Leo dashed out of the door and jumped into the carriage. The driver flicked his whip, and the carriage lurched forward. Drat the man for casting aside Julia and her as though they were a pair of dirty boots. “And now that we're able to move around again, you want to stay trapped inside these horrible, dusty rooms? Not me. I'd rather get some exercise and see the sights. At least the ones local to this area.”

“But his lordship—”

She turned her back to the window and patted her hip to make sure her funds (the few coins and banknotes that Leo had on his person when they found him) were secure in the pocket buttoned to the inside of her gown. “His lordship is gone, and I have no intention of moldering in this room. Stay here if you wish. I'll tell that repulsive man to build a fire so you won't take chill.”

“My dear, I think this is most unwise—”

Dagmar closed the door on Julia's protests, jumping slightly when a man loomed out of the shadows at her. She thought at first it was Jacob, but this man, although clad in clothes of equal repugnance, appeared less filthy. He was slightly taller than Leo and had thick, curly black hair. He paused when he saw her.

“Mrs. Deworthy would like a fire,” Dagmar told him, assuming he was another servant.

The man raised his eyebrows. “She would?”

“Yes, she is chilled. I happen to think it's rather balmy out, but Julia has always been rather thin blooded.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“I'm going out,” Dagmar continued, pulling on the pair of gloves that had more holes than doeskin remaining. “I realize that Lord March said to stay put, but he is sadly mistaken if he thinks I have nothing better to do with my time than to wait around for his return.”

“Ah, you are one of Leo's…er…” The man, who seemed nicely spoken for a servant, nodded toward the door.

“Yes.” The more Dagmar thought about it, the more annoyed she was with Leo simply parking them at his room and leaving. Clearly he was going to find some hotel or other in which he could lodge them and conveniently forget their existence. To be honest, she didn't blame him for that, since he hadn't asked for the responsibility of Julia and her to be thrust upon him. Well, her mother had raised her better than to be a burden. She was a princess, and she had all of ten pounds hidden in her underthings; she'd go out and find a shop she could take over, preferably one with lodgings attached. Then Leo would be absolved of all responsibilities toward them. “If he comes back before I return, you may tell him that I am seeking alternate means of support.”

“Alternate means…” The man blinked a few times as she brushed past him. “Here, I don't think Leo is going to like it if you're off looking for another protector while you're with him. And just who is Mrs. Deworthy?”

“She's my companion.”

The man shot a startled look at the door. “Leo has…he arranged for
both
of you?”

He sounded oddly scandalized. Clearly he wasn't used to ladies of their quality. “Yes, of course. I couldn't leave Julia behind, and Leo said she must stay with us.”

The man, who appeared to be in his middle twenties, frowned. “You are German?”

“Danish. Julia's English, though.”

“And you and Leo and this Julia…” He made a vague stirring gesture. “All three of you? At the same time?”

What a very odd man. She didn't understand why he was so confused by the idea of Julia living with Leo and her, but evidently he was. Before she could explain that it wasn't necessarily going to happen—thus her going out to seek a shop and lodgings—the man continued on.

“No, never mind, it's none of my business what Leo does.”

“Exactly so,” Dagmar said, approving of that sentiment. She passed him and started down the stairs, calling after her, “Don't forget Julia's fire.”

She emerged into the late spring morning, took a deep breath of coal-scented air tinged with horse manure, and set off to set off at a brisk walk to see what sort of a future was available to her.

It is right and proper for a princess to revere her family. It is wrong for her to call her cousin a fat-headed ignorant son of a puss-filled weasel.

—Princess Christian of Sonderburg-Beck's Guide for Her Daughter's Illumination and Betterment

Leo's shoulder was on fire, his chest ached, and his head felt hot, all of which contributed to the general horrible nature of the day. He'd had no luck finding a hotel suitable for a gentlewoman, and his only relation who had a house in town had let it for the spring and summer and was off enjoying himself in sunnier climes.

Leo climbed back into the hired hack, wanting nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed for a year or two, but his ears still rang with the words that his landlady had hurled at him. “I run a decent house, I do! Have yer hussies out by teatime, or ye can find yerself new rooms!” He had to find somewhere Dagmar and her maid could stay, and he had to find it soon.

“Where to now?” the carriage driver asked as he hauled his aching body into the carriage.

He racked his brain. Who did he know who was in town? That was hard to answer since he'd been away from England for almost six months. There were Nick's parents—Leo had gone to Oxford with Nick and spent his holidays in the Britton household—but Noble and Gillian were usually in the country at this time of year.

Perhaps they had come up to town for the season? Nick's younger sisters had to be about ready to enter society. “Warwick Square,” he told the driver and sat back exhaustedly, praying the Earl of Weston and his family were in town.

They weren't.

“Damn and blast,” he snarled when a scared-looking servant informed him that the earl was at his country residence.

A giggle from a woman strolling past him had him absently doffing his hat and murmuring an apology for his language. Now what was he going to do? Who on earth could he trust with Dagmar? Philip Dalton's offer floated tantalizingly in front of him, but he hesitated to unload his wife on two people he barely knew. No, he had to find someone else of his acquaintance, someone who would not only keep Dagmar safe, but could discourage her from mingling with society, at least until he'd had time to figure out what they were going to do with their lives.

“Leo?”

He stopped staring at nothing and focused on the woman who had giggled at his outburst. She was a tall, slender woman in her early twenties, with short, curly brown hair, and three spotted dogs that twined around her, tangling their leashes around her legs.

“Yes? Er…do I have the pleasure—”

“I'm Thom,” she said, smiling and holding out her hand.

He shook her hand gravely, searching his memory for her. “Er…”

“I haven't seen you in…oh, it must be four years. Do you remember? You and Nick came to stay with Harry and my Aunt Plum that summer.”

“Thom!” he said, a sudden memory returning of that idyllic summer. Thom was the niece by marriage of Nick's godfather, the Marquis of Rosse. “You had just come home from a finishing school, as I recall. In Switzerland?”

“Germany, and it was a school of animal medicine, actually.” She gestured toward the dogs. “I've always loved animals, you see, and when Aunt Plum said my rough edges needed smoothing in order to be unleashed on society, I was doomed to be sent to a finishing school. Luckily, Harry suggested that all I needed was a little foreign polish, so we settled on a school in Heidelberg that teaches animal medicine. How have you been? You went to the Continent a few months ago, didn't you? Did you fight Napoleon? You look like you've been kicked backward by a left-handed mule. Have you seen Nick?”

The barrage of questions attempted to conceal the real one of importance to her, but Leo had been well aware that for the last few years Thom had held a
tendresse
for his friend. He'd rather imagined that they would make a match of it, but Nick evidently had other plans. Then again, Leo supposed that even the most ardent of lovers would find it difficult to woo a girl when he was more often out of the country than in it.

“I'll live, yes, not directly, I feel that way, and not in several months. I rather thought he was in Spain. It's a pleasure to see you again. How are your aunt and uncle?”

“Good, although Aunt Plum is being driven mad by Harry's eldest daughter, India. She's coming out this year, you know, and Aunt Plum hates society and would rather have red-hot nails driven into her eyeballs than to have to go to balls and routs and all that—a point upon which I wholeheartedly agree, I might say—but she's determined to do right by India, so we're here to get Aunt Plum acclimatized. All except the boys. Digger and MacTavish are in school.”

Leo's ears perked up. “Lord Rosse is in town?”

“Yes.” Thom gestured across the square, where a pale yellow house with tall, white pillars sat. “I was just taking the dogs for a walk. Aunt Plum had a dressmaker in to work on some gowns for India, and she threatened to have some made for me as well. I thought it better to be out of the house until that particular nightmare is over.”

Leo laughed. He'd always thought Thom a peculiar—if charming—young woman, and he could see that she hadn't changed in the years that had passed since they last met.

“I don't suppose you're looking for some way in which to fill your time?” he asked, an idea forming even as he spoke.

“Would it keep me out of Aunt Plum's way while she's in full dressmaking mode?” Thom asked.

He considered the question and had to answer honestly, “Not entirely, but I can help divert Lady Rosse's attention to that of a new subject.”

“Oh? Who would that be?”

“My wife. She's Danish, needs a new wardrobe, and I suspect would like being shown around town.” He held out his arm for Thom, who automatically took it. “Shall we stroll to your house? I'd like to beg an extremely large favor of your aunt and uncle.”

“A favor?”

“My wife also requires housing.”

“Well, they'll see you, naturally,” Thom said with obvious hesitation. “But if you are looking for a place to stay, I should tell you that the twins have chicken pox, and Plum has forbidden anyone to stay with us until the crisis is over.”

Leo's hopes were dashed, but perhaps the situation wasn't as bad as Thom made out. “Surely it would be possible for one woman—” He remembered in time the companion. “Two women to be in the house without coming in contact with the poxed children?”

Thom shook her head. “Aunt Plum is very firm on the subject. I had the chicken pox when I was eight, so I'm allowed to stay, but the two youngest were sent away to the country with Lady Weston.”

His hopes rose again. Dagmar might very well have had chicken pox when she was a child. In which case, she would pass Plum's immunity test, and be able to stay with the Rosses until such time as Leo could find a house.

It was certainly worth asking her. He had few other options left to him.

“I believe I will return to my rooms and discuss the matter with Dagmar. Would you tell Harry and Plum that we'll call on them this afternoon?”

“All right, but don't expect to go beyond the ground floor,” she warned. “Aunt Plum has declared the upper floors to be a battlefield of pox, and none are allowed to venture onto it.”

Their arrival at the Marquis of Rosse's house some two hours later was not without drama.

The door was opened by a handsome man of dark complexion and eyes that danced with a wicked light when they alighted upon Dagmar. Leo remembered him from old as being the extremely odd Castilian butler. “Chyes?” the butler inquired, pursing his lips as he eyed Dagmar.

“Would you be so kind as to tell your lord and lady that the Earl of March
and
his
wife
have arrived?” Leo noted that the emphasis had completely escaped its target.

“And this beauteous lady?” He bowed and took Dagmar's hand to kiss it. Leo took her hand away from him. The butler tried to take it back. Dagmar giggled.

“Is my wife, as I just said. My dear, this is—” Leo poked through dark, dusty memories, and withdrew a name. “Juan.”

“Juan Immanuel Savage Torugula Diaz de Arasanto, and I am very at your,” the butler said, giving Dagmar a come-hither look that by rights should have steamed the drapes.

“You're at my what?” Dagmar asked, looking confused. Leo wanted to kiss her for that. It wasn't many women who wouldn't be flattered or at least flustered by such blatant sexuality.

“Chyes,” he agreed and, with a sidelong look at Leo, heaved a dramatic sigh. “I shall fetch Harry and Plump.”

“You do that. Oh, my apologies, Mrs. Deworthy.” Leo realized with a guilty start that he had left Julia out on the front steps. “By all means, come in. I did not mean to neglect you.”

“It's quite all right, my lord. I am but a humble companion after all.” Her pale blue eyes were large as she scurried over to where Dagmar was standing, glaring at him. “What a very odd man. Is he a servant?”

“The butler, yes.”

Julia blinked. “I don't believe I've ever seen a butler who tries to kiss the hands of visitors and refers to the master and mistress by their first names.”

Leo smiled at her, then shifted the smile to Dagmar, just to see how she'd like it. He'd been told once that he had a smile that made ladies feel quite flushed, and he had hopes it would thaw the block of ice that had settled around his wife.

Her frown didn't so much as quiver.

“I think you'll find that everything about Lord and Lady Rosse's household is a little eccentric, from the family right down to the servants. But you needn't worry about liking them,” he said, addressing the last to Dagmar. “Plum is the epitome of kindness, and Harry is a good friend to have at your back in the time of need.”

“Did I hear my name being taken in vain? Leo, you rogue, you look like hell. Have you heard we're under siege from the chicken pox? Thom says you were injured. Is this your good lady? She's clearly far too good for you, you old reprobate. What's your name, my dear? Thom didn't say anything other than Leo had possessed himself of a wife.”

The tall, wiry figure of a man with a pair of shiny spectacles hurried down the grand staircase toward them, a smiling woman at his side.

“Harry, you might let them come in and take off their cloaks before you start peppering them with questions. It is a pleasure to see you again, Leo, and of course, your wife and her companion as well.”

Dagmar and Plum did the little bobs women did upon meeting each other, while Julia, evidently finding the informality lacking in niceness, performed a full court bow to Plum, murmuring something about it being so kind, so very kind of them to take her in from such dire circumstances.

“My wife's companion, Mrs. Deworthy,” Leo introduced them. “And this is Dagmar. My dear, Lord and Lady Rosse, better known as Harry and Plum, whom I have known since I was in short trousers.”

“It's such a pleasure to meet you,” Plum said, taking Dagmar by the arm. “Normally you would be most welcome to stay as long with us as you like, but as I know Thom told you, we have the most hideous cases of chicken pox in the house. Six of the servants have come down with it, and both twins, and although I thought they were getting better, we had to have the doctor around again this morning. So I'm afraid that we're unable to ask you to stay with us unless you've both had the chicken pox?”

“I'm afraid I haven't. Julia says she has, but I have no memory of ever being ill with it.”

“Oh, that's too bad. I should very much have liked to get to know you.”

“Perhaps if Dagmar was to promise that she wouldn't go anywhere near the nursery…” Leo stopped when Plum turned a gimlet eye on him.

“No, Leo.”

“But if she stayed on the ground floor—”

“No,” Plum repeated more firmly. “I will not have others exposed to that disease. It's been a hellish nightmare with the twins and the servants, and no more shall fall to its spotty clutches, I tell you,
no
more
!”

“Sorry, old man,” Harry said, giving him a consoling buffet to his good shoulder. “Plum has spoken, and upon this, I agree with her. You're welcome to stay with us once the plague has moved on, though.”

Leo sighed to himself. He knew any further protests were going to be met with deaf ears.

“What are we to call you?” Harry suddenly asked Dagmar, his brow furrowed as he eyed Dagmar's breasts in a manner that had Leo suddenly wanting to punch him. “Are you a Lady March or a Your Highness sort of person?”

“I am a Your Serene Highness sort of princess, actually, but you will please call me Dagmar.” She smiled at Harry.

Leo, on the other hand, stopped wallowing in pity and glared at him. “Harry, I've known you for a very long time, and although I've always viewed you as a respected elder, a man to whom I can come for advice and assistance, if you continue to ogle my wife like that, I will have to knock you down once or twice.”

“Ogle her?” Harry dragged his gaze over to Leo. “Me?”

“Ogle her, you. You were staring at her chest.” He turned his glare onto Dagmar, who along with everyone else, looked down at her front. He hadn't noticed before just how plump and perfect that gown made her breasts look, but he was noticing now, and he didn't like it one little bit. “Mind you, I'm not saying that Dagmar's gown isn't just about laying it all bare for you, but still, I'd think that you would have the common decency to ignore the fact that she's damn near naked on her upper parts.”

That was patently untrue, but Leo had an unreasonable desire to swathe her in the heaviest blanket he could find, and since that wasn't possible, he did the next best thing: he made himself obnoxious.

“Well,” said Plum, considering him with an amused glint in her eye. “I think that bodes well for your future. But surely you aren't going to let Leo get away with that sort of behavior, Dagmar?”