Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress (27 page)

S
he was giving him that direct look. For a moment he was disconcerted by her scent, the sweet womanly smell of her that had haunted him for so many lonely days and nights. Perhaps she saw something in his eyes, because she smiled, her gaze dropping, her dark lashes sweeping down.

He thought about giving her a speech about rushing into danger and frightening him, or perhaps he could suggest that next time she be less impulsive? But he discarded both ideas. She’d only get cross with him and that was the last thing he wanted right now.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” he said instead.

She glanced up at him then away again. She smoothed her sleeve. “I-I didn’t know you were back in London. Did you bring Hercules?”

He was confused. Had James been right and she’d left the dog behind so that he could follow? “No. As far as I know Hercules is happily ensconced at the castle with Eustace.”

“How is Eustace?” she asked, smoothing her other sleeve.

Rufus raised an eyebrow, wondering where this conversation was going and whether he really had time for it with the police waiting upstairs. But he was reluctant to leave her. “Eustace is well. That monster you left for him is eating us out of house and home, and destroying every cushion in the castle, but as long as Eustace is happy . . .”

She laughed softly, a breathless sound that made his senses jump up another notch. “Good,” she said. “Rufus, I think I might have been—”

But whatever she was about to confess was interrupted.

“Lord Southbrook?” It was Violet, calling down the stairs. “There’s an inspector here who wants to speak with you.”

Rufus gave an impatient sigh. “I have to go,” he said, “but I’m not leaving you here to get yourself into more trouble.”

“I have to go to the Home and settle the girls,” she said briskly, and their intimate moment was gone. They started up the stairs, and she glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Fancy Violet being Sally’s daughter,” she whispered, not wanting the girl to overhear.

Rufus wondered about that himself, but he didn’t have time to reply. The inspector was waiting and when next he had time to glance around him, Averil was gone.

O
nce back at the Home, they found room for their new arrivals. Surprisingly, Molly took them under her wing, showing a gentle side to her nature Averil had never seen before, and Violet was soon in the kitchen preparing hot soup.

That was where Violet told her story, in between setting out bowls and crusty bread, and comforting the girls.

“I grew up at The Tin Soldier. Sally let me do mostly what I wanted, and what I wanted was to stay out of the way of the customers, so I spent my time in the kitchen. There were always cooks coming and going, so I learned to do most of the cooking for the customers.”

“I remember you said you were used to cooking for many,” Averil said.

Violet smiled. “I was.”

“But . . . well, you don’t speak like Sally. You must have been educated at some point, Violet?”

“I went to one of the church schools. The teacher was good at what he did, and he saw in me someone who could ‘rise above her station,’ as he used to say. And Sally helped. Whenever one of her gamblers owed her money, she’d find out if he had some talent she could get him to teach me. You’d be amazed the types who pass through The Tin Soldier. There were artists who taught me to paint, and dancing masters who taught me to dance, and a posh lady who’d fallen on hard times, who taught me to sew. That was the way they paid off their debts.”

She grimaced. “But then it changed. Sally began to set up her houses of pleasure.”

Pleasure probably wasn’t the word Averil would have used.

“Jackson wanted me to come here to the Home, and he persuaded Sally that I would be able to keep an eye on things. Sally pretends Jackson is her creature, but I think she listens to him more than she lets on.”

“But why send you here? I don’t understand.”

Violet wiped her hands on her apron. She looked as if she’d rather not say. “They—Sally and Jackson, that is—wanted to give their women some shine. Make out they were ladies, or something close. I was supposed to be watching out, in case someone found out the truth, but I hated it.”

She looked up at Averil and her eyes were alight with anger.

“Oh, Violet, why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I? I wanted to, but . . .” Violet sighed.

“Well, it’s over now,” Averil said softly.

“Yes,” Violet said, but there was sadness in the droop of her mouth and Averil knew it wasn’t really over for the girl. Not yet.

“Violet is a brave young lady,” Gareth said admiringly, when Averil had explained everything to him.

“Yes, she is.” Averil glanced at him sideways.

“Averil,” he said, catching her look, “I have learnt my lesson, I promise you. Never again will I single out any woman.”

“I hope that isn’t true, Gareth. One day you will find someone you want to single out, someone special, someone you love with all your heart.”

She turned away. She knew she’d sounded emotional, but she hoped Gareth would think it was because of the turmoil she’d been through at The Tin Soldier. She didn’t want to confess the truth. That she was just as foolish as Gareth, perhaps more so, because she loved a man who wanted her for her money, and if they hadn’t been interrupted she would have told him so.

B
eth was finding her days dragging. Before she met James Blainey everything had gone along very nicely, with visits to the opera and the theater at night, and her days busy with Averil and the house, and the occasional shopping trip. She would wake every morning, filled with anticipation and looking forward to the hours stretching before her.

Not anymore. Now her days seemed very long. The minutes ticked by so slowly, and no matter how often she glanced at the clock, it did not move any faster.

Averil was keeping herself busy at the Home, but Beth had nothing like that to throw herself into. She had nothing to occupy her that would take her mind off James Blainey. The truth was, she missed him dreadfully and some mornings she lay in her bed, staring at the window, and thinking that she might just catch the mail coach north and tell him she would marry him after all.

But then all the other doubts would come crashing in, making her head ache. How could she marry James? Averil deserved her loyalty. Averil had been wronged. Beth could hardly run off and marry one of the men responsible for her current situation. Did she really want to alienate the girl who was more like her daughter than her charge? Was any amount of personal happiness worth that? Surely it would be a selfish act to marry James?

In the end she would get up out of bed and carry on with her day as if everything was the same as normal, but it was far, far from that. Her life was slipping by and the love she had miraculously found after all these years was slipping away with it. She had told James she would not marry him, but she felt in a sort of limbo, as if the decision was still waiting to be made.

“Miss Harmon?”

Beth looked up. She was engaged in the exciting task of sorting linen and had the parlor cluttered with various bits and pieces, laid out around her as she inspected them for wear and tear.

The maid chewed her lip, as if she was worried the news she had to impart wouldn’t be welcome. “The Honorable James Blainey is here to see you. I know you said you weren’t home to callers, but when I tried to tell him you weren’t receiving he became quite agitated and insisted I ask you anyway.”

James!
The usual calm and unflappable Beth was thrown into an agony of indecision. She wanted to run to the door and fling herself into his arms and at the same time she knew she must refuse to let him inside. She could not see him. Could she? While she was vacillating, James barged into the room behind the maid.

He looked thinner, his clothing was creased and his hair was unbrushed, and there were shadows under his eyes, which looked rather wild. No wonder the maid had refused him entry. James had the appearance of someone who had escaped from Bedlam.

“My dearest Beth,” he cried, taking her hands, “I beg you not to tell me to go until you’ve heard me out.”

Beth wavered, but he looked so desperate, so earnest, she didn’t have the heart to send him away. And besides, the touch of his hands in hers, the physical presence of him, made her feel like a wilting flower that had suddenly been given a lifesaving drink of water.

“Dearest Beth,” he said, as the goggling maid shut the door, “I know you told me you couldn’t marry me, but I had to see you. To ask you again. There were things I needed to tell you. You’ve no idea how utterly miserable I’ve been, Beth! I haven’t had the slightest urge to take up the cards, and for me . . . well, it’s a first.”

“James—” Beth tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t allow it. He’d set himself to say his piece and nothing was going to stop him.

“I know I behaved appallingly. I see that now. But sometimes, dear heart, I speak before my brain catches up with my mouth. And besides, it seemed such a good idea, Averil marrying Rufus. We are desperate, my dear, absolutely at rock bottom, and Rufus is too much of a gentleman to think of such a thing for himself. And the dear boy is so lonely and unhappy, and when I saw them together that night, when I saw the way they were looking at each other, I thought it was the perfect chance for Rufus to find the happiness he deserves. Two birds with one stone.”

“James, will you listen—”

“No. You listen, Beth. Please, just listen, and then if you ask me to I’ll go and never return.”

“Very well.” Beth tugged him toward the couch. “But sit down, James.”

He sat on top of a set of embroidered cushion covers, but Beth had always hated them so she remained silent. He wouldn’t let go of her hands. “I never expected to meet you. I was thinking of Rufus, and you sort of . . . crept up on me. I am so grateful I found you, Beth. I see now that my life has been missing a crucial component, an essential element, and without it nothing makes sense. Without you, Beth, nothing makes sense. Please, please, my love, say you will reconsider. Marry me. I swear you will never regret it.”

She waited, but he didn’t launch into any more impassioned speeches, and now it was her turn. While he had been speaking she had made a decision, and it was a decision she realized had been there all along, on the tip of her tongue.

“I know you meant well, James. When you told Rufus to persuade Averil to marry him, you were not acquainted with her, or me. But I still believe it was wrong, and if such an ill-considered idea ever pops into your head again, you must not let it past your lips.”

He nodded eagerly. “I won’t, Beth. I promise I’ll—”

“Hush, James. Whatever happens between Averil and your nephew is their own business. It is true that Averil is like a daughter to me and I will always do all I can to make her happy, but I have come to the conclusion that this is a matter between them. We cannot live their lives for them. They must sort it out themselves. You and I, well, that is a different kettle of fish.”

Another eager nod of the head, and a spark of hope in his wild eyes.

“James, we’re not young, and we must take hold of happiness when it presents itself and not let it slip through our fingers. I do love you and I want to marry you. These weeks away from you have been the most difficult I’ve ever known, and although I tried to pretend I could return to the life I had before, I can’t. I don’t want to.”

“Oh, my love,” he groaned and took her into his arms.

It was bliss, Beth thought, with a sigh. It really was. She couldn’t regret this, it just seemed so very right. At long last she had found the sort of happiness she’d dreamed of and she meant to hold on tight to it.

A
veril saw the letter on the table inside the door, waiting for her, when she returned home after a long and eventful day. She had thought she might see Rufus again before she left but he didn’t come to the Home. Besides, what would she say?

I love you and I want you to marry me, even if it is for my money.

He might have played the hero today and saved her from whatever horrors Jackson and Sally Jakes had in store for her, and she might well love him, but she couldn’t swallow her pride and marry a man who only wanted her for her money. How could they live their lives happily ever after when that cold hard fact was always with them? And yet, Averil reminded herself, other couples married for wealth or bloodlines or family, and they managed to live reasonably happy lives.

For a moment she felt a spurt of hope but it soon faded. Others might live that sort of life, but it was not for her. The knowledge would eventually destroy her and any happiness she might hope for. And then there was the question of his honesty. Averil did not want a man who did not tell her the truth. Ever since she was a child, with so many questions and so little answers, she had made it her aim to be honest and to ask for honesty from others.

Averil sighed and picked up the letter. It was from Nanny Fredericks and she quickly opened it. Inside was a single sheet of paper, crisscrossed with the old lady’s spidery writing, and Averil took a moment to decipher it.

My dear Averil,
she began, and there were several lines about how glad she’d been to see her, then there were more lines about life in the village, before finally she got to the point.
I think there may have been a misunderstanding when you visited me recently. When you were leaving I said I thought I saw your mother, but I didn’t explain myself properly. It was the girl I saw, the young one you called Violet. She looked so like Anastasia it made me feel quite dizzy. I think, if you are looking for your sister, then you may have already found her . . .

“Violet?” she whispered. But Violet was Sally Jakes’s daughter. Wasn’t she? She lifted the locket from about her neck—she’d taken to wearing it all the time—and stared at her mother’s image. Was there a resemblance to Violet? They both had fair hair and pale blue eyes, but so did many other women.