Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress (10 page)

BOOK: Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress
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He gave her a bow, his expression sober, but he knew she could see the laughter lurking in his eyes. “I will tell him she is a marshmallow.”

Averil’s mouth quirked in response.

Yes, that was better. A moment ago she’d been cross with him but now she was smiling again. He preferred her smiling, although there was something to be said for that flash of temper, too.

Rufus leaned back against the desk—the room appeared to be some sort of office. “I’d better tell you what I’ve discovered before we’re interrupted by the good doctor.”

“Yes, please do,” she said, and there was no doubting the anxiety in her voice.

His recital didn’t take long. He had visited St. Thomas’s Orphanage the morning after his “adventure” with Averil. The staff were helpful but their books were damp stained. The rain had come through the roof and some of them were illegible with mold and water damage. If there was a Rose Martindale noted within those pages then he could not find her.

Averil looked completely downcast.

He was tempted to take her into his arms and comfort her, but that seemed rather inappropriate at this early stage of their acquaintance. Then again, maybe he should storm her barricades, overwhelm her with his impetuous passion? It had been so long since Rufus spent time with a woman of Averil’s class he had forgotten how to behave.

“Perhaps Rose was given another surname? Her father’s surname?” he said gently. “What was his surname, Averil?”

“I-I don’t know it. I don’t know who the man was that my mother ran off with. My father would never have told me, even if he’d lived, and he made sure no one else did either. It was a painful episode he wanted to erase from his life. Gareth doesn’t know anything either.” She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly alight with expectation. “Can you find out for me, my lord?”

That made him smile. She had a way of making him smile. Surely that was a good sign? And then he wondered if he was smiling like Dr. Simmons had a little earlier and thought that perhaps it was not such a good thing after all.

“I can certainly try,” he answered her, all brisk and businesslike. “It was a scandal at the time, so my uncle tells me. He might even know who it was. As long as you don’t find the matter distressing . . .?”

“I think I need to know the man’s name if I am to find Rose.” She hesitated. “You said last night that you were offering me your help. Are you still offering me your help?”

He nodded. “Of course. How did you come upon Sally Jakes?” he asked curiously.

Averil told him about her old nanny and the letter she’d sent asking for information. “So I know my mother and Rose were living at The Tin Soldier. According to Mrs. Jakes, Rose was sent to St. Thomas’s. It is after that the trail goes cold.”

She was looking downcast again but Rufus couldn’t help feeling a tingle of the old excitement he’d been missing since he gave up The Guardians. Rose was the bastard daughter of Lady Martindale. Surely someone would know what became of her? He’d visit some of his old contacts and ask questions, see what he could discover.

“So you will help me find her?”

She was watching him with a look that told him she wasn’t going to get her hopes up only to have them dashed again.

“I promise,” he assured her. “I said I would. I don’t go back on my word once it’s given, Averil. You can rely on me utterly and completely.”

She nodded, glancing away so that he wouldn’t see the gleam of tears, but he saw them anyway.

“You are very kind, Lord Southbrook. Even though Jackson has helped me thus far, I don’t trust him. He left me all alone. It-it was not a nice experience.” Her eyes narrowed and she looked about her, as if hoping Jackson would pop up from behind the desk so that she could give him a piece of her mind. “I thought he’d be here at the Home today but I haven’t seen him.”

“Leave Jackson to me,” Rufus said with a hint of menace in his voice. “I’ll deal with him. And I am not very kind, Averil. I’m doing this as much for my own pleasure as to help you. I told you I needed a distraction.”

But she only smiled again, as if he was making a joke and she did not believe him for a moment. Rufus followed her from the room, and found himself observing, with a great deal of satisfaction, the sway of her hips beneath her skirts.

He was a cad and a damned fool, he didn’t need anyone to tell him that, but she was a little beauty, no doubt about it. Could he make her happy? Could he marry her and show the doubters that the wicked earl was a reformed fellow after all?

Preposterous!

Averil glanced at him over her shoulder. “Did you say something, my lord?”

Rufus shook his head. “Nothing you need worry about, Lady Averil.”

A moment later they were back with Gareth, who promptly offered to show him the dormitories. “I presume Lady Averil has shown you the kitchen?” he added, giving Averil a look that promised a scolding later on. “I would rather have done that myself, my lord.”

“I’ve seen enough,” said Rufus bluntly. He was done with being polite. “I’ll be in touch, Simmons. And thank you, Lady Averil.”

He bowed over her hand briefly, and then he was gone.

“I
think we impressed him,” Gareth said, rubbing his hands together.

Averil was smiling to herself. Lord Southbrook was going to help her find Rose. She could rely on him “utterly and completely.” For the first time in a long time she felt a spurt of real hope, as if she’d been blundering around in the dark and now someone had lit a candle. The earl might have a dubious reputation, he might be an outcast from society, but Averil could not believe he was a bad man. In fact she was liking his company more and more. Beth might not trust him but Averil did.

“I’m sure he was very impressed.” Belatedly she remembered to answer Gareth.

Beth nudged her, and Averil remembered Gareth’s early behavior. She took a breath and launched into the speech she knew had to be made.

“Gareth, I do hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I really don’t think you should show any partiality for the girls. Or the staff. You are our leader, you know. We look to you for strength of character. A good leader should not show partiality. Perhaps you don’t realize you are doing it but the women notice. I noticed. Violet is a very pretty girl but she is your employee, she is under your care, Gareth.”

Gareth shot her a look under his brows and she could see he was shocked and mortified. Obviously he hadn’t realized how obvious his partiality was. In the end he gave a sort of humph, but she was glad to see that when they returned to the common room, he gave Violet Pinnock a wide berth.

Averil spent a few wasted moments searching the Home for Jackson. The man was usually ensconced in the kitchen, drinking tea and eating whatever the cook was baking that day, but he was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t put it past him to be hiding, avoiding her. He’d be expecting her to seek him out and give him a piece of her mind. All she really wanted to do was to tell him she no longer needed his detective services, that she’d found someone else.

With a sigh, Averil gave up. She was tired from the earl’s visit, the high emotion of their talk, and then her remonstration of Gareth. Jackson would turn up eventually. He always did.

 

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

R
ufus was keen to find Jackson, and he soon had his chance. After a word with one of the lads, in the gang hanging around the streets, he set off down a narrow alleyway that ended in a filthy courtyard.

The house he wanted was narrow and leaning to one side, and when he banged on the door it was opened by an old woman with no teeth. “Wha’s a gen’leman wan’ ’ere?” she demanded, or at least that was what he thought she said.

“I’m looking for Jackson. I was told he was here.”

“Wha’ you wan’ ’im fer?”

“I have something to offer him that would be to his advantage,” Rufus said. And, when the woman looked blank, “Money, madam.”

“Ah.” She thought a moment, but the money swayed her as he’d hoped it would. “’E’s at the Soldier.”

“The Tin Soldier?”

But she’d already closed the door.

Jackson was not unknown to him. Rufus had made his acquaintance when he worked for The Guardians, and although he’d found the man useful on occasion he had never entirely trusted him. He wasn’t surprised he’d run off and left Averil in the lurch when he’d seen Rufus that night, because he was sure that was what must have happened. Jackson must have thought he was in trouble, or perhaps it was just a spontaneous reaction for someone who lived in the murky world he did.

So had Jackson something to hide? Just what was he up to these days?

Rufus meant to find out.

A
veril was in the common room to help the women with their sewing. It was a task she did not relish. No one at the Home had a talent for sewing and all of them groaned whenever she appeared to take their lesson.

“Violet, will you help Molly with her petticoat?”

The latest task she had set them was to sew themselves a very plain petticoat. Not terribly exciting perhaps, but at least it would be of use to them when they started working. Or even if they didn’t. Averil had seen the state of the clothes some of them arrived in and she felt obliged to help.

Violet was giving her a sideways look, and although she did as she’d been asked, Averil had a feeling the girl did not take kindly to being told what to do. She might be sweet and biddable when Gareth was there but Averil had found the girl had another side to her where others were concerned. A rebellious streak.

Perhaps that was a good thing. A woman needed a bit of fire to survive in this world, and Violet appeared to have what survivors were made of.

Sometimes she wondered why Violet was here at all. Her work was not particularly well paid, and if she’d wanted to Averil was quite certain Violet could have found alternative employment far more to her liking. She was pretty and clever and quick to learn. Gareth had told her that Violet’s family wished her to come to the Home, although the reason he gave was vague in the extreme. When Averil attempted to question Violet about it, the girl said she wasn’t happy in her own home and she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Do you sew much at home?” Averil asked now, smiling at Violet to show she wasn’t being nosey, when she was.

“Not like this,” the girl said. “Darn sometimes, or mend sheets, but never make something from new, miss. My lady,” the correction was added a little grudgingly.

“I don’t mind being miss,” Averil assured her. Then, when Violet didn’t answer her, “Well, I think to be able to sew is a skill worth—”

“What was
he
doing here yesterday?” Violet cut her short. “The earl, I mean.”

“He plans to make a donation, and Doctor Simmons wanted to show him about,” Averil said, surprised by the question and the way it was delivered. “Why do you ask, Violet?”

Violet shrugged, her expression closed. “No reason, miss, I just wondered.”

“He’s a good-looking sod,” Molly said, with a sly look. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss.”

Averil frowned. “Molly, if Doctor Simmons were to hear you speaking like that he wouldn’t be at all pleased.”

“Noffink I say pleases Doctor Simmons,” Molly muttered.

Averil sighed. Making conversation was sometimes very difficult, and she was glad when her lesson was over and she was able to leave. Beth was at home, and she set off, expecting her home to be as quiet as usual, but when she walked in the door she was met by the sound of Hercules barking and a boy’s excited voice.

She wasn’t really surprised—Lord Southbrook had mentioned Eustace was planning a visit. Averil made her way toward the back of the house, and was nearly knocked down by an excited Hercules. He ran up to her and then turned and ran back toward Eustace, narrowly missing knocking over a small table with a large vase on it.

“Lady Averil.” Eustace was breathless. “Hercules can jump very high to catch a ball. Did you know?”

Behind him Beth appeared, her hair untidy and her face flushed, as if she had been trying to keep Hercules and her visitor calm. And failing.

“I did know, Eustace,” said Averil. “What are you doing here?”

Eustace looked uneasy. “I wanted to visit you,” he said, with a sly glance through long lashes. “I don’t have a dog in London, so I thought I’d play with yours. Do you mind?”

Averil knew she’d be fibbing if she scolded him. She didn’t mind. She liked Eustace and she thought he was lonely, and Hercules definitely needed exercise.

“Of course I don’t mind. And I’m sure Hercules is glad to see you. It’s just that your father will be worried, and I thought you promised him not to go off on your own again?”

He looked guilty, scuffing his feet. Hercules went and leaned against him, nearly knocking him over.

Averil smiled. “Why don’t you come and have something to eat and drink, and I will send a note around to your home to say you’re here and safe?”

Eustace thought that was a good idea, and chattered away as he followed Averil into the parlor.

For the next hour Beth was on the edge of her seat, worried he’d drop crumbs on the floor, but Averil enjoyed the informality of Eustace’s visit. It occurred to her that she didn’t often have visitors, and when she did it was Gareth on charity business, or acquaintances who were not really friends. There were her friends from the Husband Hunters Club but at the moment they all seemed busy with their own lives. By nature she was no social butterfly, and Eustace was a breath of fresh air.

“What do you do when you’re at home?” she asked him, sipping her tea, and trying not to notice when he slipped Hercules half a sandwich.

“In Mayfair, do you mean? I have a tutor who comes three days a week, and I’m supposed to do my own studies in between. Mostly I play with Freddie, the housekeeper’s boy. He knows all sorts of places to play belowstairs.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Beth murmured.

“When I’m at Southbrook Castle I have a tutor, too, and I go riding or play in the garden. Papa is mostly in London, or he was until . . .” He stopped, his face changing. Averil, watching him, could tell something had happened to upset him, but she didn’t feel she could probe. “Uncle James is good fun,” he ended the conversation by taking a huge bite of cake, while Hercules, watching, whimpered.

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