The Reluctant Rake

by Jane Ashford

  “God bless you, Miss Devere.”

  “Julia,” began Sir Richard.

  But she had turned to look up at the driver. “Do you know where you are now, Edward?”

  “Yes, miss,” replied the youthful second coachman. “I would have known before, only I thought we was further east.”

  “Let us go on home then.” And Julia drew back inside the chaise before Richard could protest again.

  In less than twenty minutes, they were turning in between tall stone pillars and riding down a tree-lined drive to Julia’s home. This good-sized building, built of a lovely buff-colored stone, sat in a park through which ran a broad stream. On this warm late afternoon, the scene looked idyllic.

  Their arrival set in motion a bustle of activity. Julia gave orders that a room be prepared for Bess, and she was carried upstairs to it and put to bed. A groom rode for Dr. Phillips. Julia’s luggage was taken in, and the post boys paid off and dismissed. Through it all, Sir Richard waited for an opportunity to speak to her alone.

  Finally it came. “Julia, this is unwise,” he told her then.

  “What else is to be done with the poor girl?” was the reply.

  “This inn…”

  She shook her head. “It is really no place for a convalescent, Richard. You want her to recover quickly, don’t you?”

  “Yes! And leave the country with Shea.”

  Julia smiled. “Well, then?”

  “I don’t want her here with you.”

  “It can scarcely harm me to have her.”

  “But it is not proper,” Sir Richard burst out.

  Julia gazed at him. “It’s odd, but I find that I don’t really care. I’ve obeyed the rules of propriety all my life. Almost religiously, one might say. But it seems there are more important considerations.” She gave him her hand.

  Richard’s heart swelled with love. “Still, we must make sure that the true story does not get out,” he replied.

  “I see no reason it should. The servants do not know who Bess is, and they will be told that she is an acquaintance from London who suffered a carriage accident on the road. Indeed, they already have been. We can hardly send Bess to a mean little inn after that.”

  “She may well disabuse them of that fantasy,” he replied. “Bess Malone is…outspoken.”

  “She will have no opportunity. I’ll watch over her myself.”

  “You!”

  “Yes, Richard.”

  “She is not someone you ought to know,” he said reflexively. He couldn’t visualize Julia and Bess together. It went against every rule he had believed and upheld all his life.

  “You know, Richard,” said Julia gently, “had we not abandoned the proprieties at least for a little while, we should still be at odds, and the engagement broken off.”

  Richard hesitated, much struck by this. And before he could marshal further arguments, Thomas knocked and entered the room. “We must be on our way back to London, Richard,” he said.

  “I’m staying here.” He smiled at Julia. “At the infamous Moreley inn.”

  “You can’t.” Thomas stepped further into the room. “I’ve been talking to Shea, and we agree that Lord Fenton isn’t going to let this matter drop. He’ll have a pretty good idea who got Bess away from him even if those ruffians of his don’t talk. You and I must be in town behaving as if we’d never left. Besides, we don’t want to lead him here.”

  The last point silenced Sir Richard. He struggled visibly with himself, then replied, “Very well. I’ll come in a moment.’”

  Thomas nodded. “Good-bye, Miss Devere,” he concluded.

  “Julia,” she said with a smile, and he went out much reassured.

  “I don’t want to leave you with this all on your shoulders,” said Sir Richard when the door closed behind Thomas.

  “I’ll manage quite well, you’ll see. And I have my whole household to protect me.”

  “Julia.”

  In the next moment, she was in his arms, everything else forgotten in a kiss that went on and on and yet ended too quickly. The bubble of joy rose in Julia’s chest again, and she tightened her arms around her beloved’s neck.

  “I’ll return as soon as I can,” promised Sir Richard when they at last drew apart. She nodded. “And I’ll speak to your parents myself,” he added with a smile.

  “Oh! The papers. Yes, do.”

  “Be careful.”

  “And you.”

  Too full of feeling to say more, they walked together to the front steps, where Thomas waited with the horses. Julia watched him mount and waved as he rode off down the drive. As she turned to go inside again, she thought she had never felt happier in her life.

  Thirteen

  Julia went up to check on her patient.

  She found Bess much the same, muttering in a delirium and from time to time thrashing so actively she pulled the sheets from the bed. Julia was trying to calm one of these disturbances when a maid admitted the doctor. “Oh, Dr. Phillips, I’m so glad you’re here,” said Julia. “She won’t keep still, and I’m very worried she may hurt herself even more.”

  Dr. Phillips, a round graying man with bushy eyebrows and twinkling blue eyes, came forward. “Let’s take a look. A fall, the servants tell me?”

  “Yes.” Julia felt guilty deceiving him. She had known the doctor all her life and was very fond of him. Too, she feared that the half truth might prevent him from curing Bess. But she could not tell even him the real story.

  Dr. Phillips had turned down the covers and was making his examination. His face grew more and more grave as he saw the bruises on Bess’s pale skin. But he said nothing until he finished by gently fingering her head. Then he turned back to Julia. “A carriage accident?”

  She merely nodded.

  Dr. Phillips eyed her very seriously, then ran a hand across his chin. “Very well, if that is what you wish to say, I shan’t contradict it. But…” He paused and shrugged. “The only serious injury is to the head. It has been struck very hard, and that is why she is in the state she is. Unfortunately, there is little I can do. She should be kept quiet and given barley water and other liquids; I’ll leave a list with you. Otherwise, we must simply wait and allow her to recover.”

  “But she will?” asked Julia.

  “I believe so. Head injuries are chancy things. But I have seen people recover from worse ones. Who will be sitting with her?”

  “I will.”

  The doctor, who had been scribbling instructions on a piece of paper, looked up, surprised. “You?”

  “Why not? I am very careful.”

  He frowned as if considering some problem and then replied, “You are here alone? Your parents are not returning from London?”

  “Not for a while. But I am scarcely alone, with all the servants here.” A girl less intelligent than Julia might have thought his question a non sequitur. But she could see how his mind was working. The odd circumstances of this case had accumulated until he began to worry about her. She wanted to reassure him, but there was nothing she could say.

  “Humph,” replied the doctor, handing her the notes he had made. “Well, you need only send for me, and I’ll come around.”

  “Thank you.” Julia smiled at him, hoping she looked confident and happy. “I’m sure we’ll do well. Though you will call again and check on Bess, won’t you?”

  “Of course. Tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Julia turned and walked with him down the stairs and across the hall to the front door. “I’ll follow your instructions exactly.”

  She watched him climb into his gig and start off down the avenue, then turned back into the hall. At once the door to the parlor on the right opened and Michael Shea strode out, startling Julia considerably. “What did he say?” was Shea’s immediate question. “That was the doctor, wasn’t it? Is Bess all
right?”

  Julia merely gazed at him, wondering what he was doing here and how he had remained without her being told.

  Shea, reading these thoughts on her face, made a deprecating gesture. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you. But I thought it best to slip in without announcement, so as not to cause talk.”

  “How did you get in?” asked Julia bluntly.

  He grinned. “Your door isn’t locked.” The grin faded at once. “How is she?”

  “About the same. But the doctor says she will recover.” Julia was speaking to the concern she saw in his eyes. “You do not return to London?”

  “No one will mark it if I’m gone,” was the reply, tinged with bitterness. “Lord Fenton wouldn’t know me if he stumbled over me. So, since it would do no harm…” He shrugged. “Can I see her?”

  “She is just the same. She won’t know you.”

  “Just a look.”

  Though she was still a bit uneasy about his presence, Julia consented and took him upstairs. Bess lay just as before, and Michael Shea took her hand and gazed down at her with a kind of furious anguish that touched Julia’s heart. She slipped out into the corridor, leaving them alone together.

  After a few minutes, Michael Shea joined her. “Ah, if only I could call him out,” were his first words. “I could take such pleasure in putting a bullet through him. But he wouldn’t meet me. He’d send his bullies to horsewhip me, more likely.”

  “Lord Fenton?” said Julia unnecessarily.

  “Aye.” They had reached the hall again by this time. “Well, I should be going. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

  “You’re staying here?”

  “I am. In the inn you so despise.” He managed a smile. “I’ve seen worse.”

  “But…”

  “I’ll not leave until Bess is better, so I hope you’ve no objections.” His tone was polite, but adamant.

  Julia wondered what he would do if she did object, but she didn’t think of doing so. The look on his face in Bess’s room prevented that. She felt suddenly akin to him. “You love her very much, don’t you?” she asked softly.

  “As I love life.” Shea’s hazel eyes grew distant. “Have you ever come upon your mirror image all at once, so that you’re startled out of your wits for a moment, and then you recognize yourself and laugh? Meeting Bess was just like that for me—all in an instant. She’s my other self.”

  Julia stared at him, touched and silenced by this poetic flight. Yet she had felt something similar herself. “I know,” she managed finally.

  Shea looked down as if he had forgotten she was there, and flushed a little. “Well then, I’ll come along tomorrow,” he said.

  “The doctor will be back in the morning.”

  “Afternoon, then. I want to hear what he has to say.”

  Julia nodded, and they said good-bye. She watched, torn between amusement and concern as he slipped off on foot in the gathering darkness. Where had he left his horse? she wondered. And wouldn’t some of the servants see him sooner or later? She would have to tell him to abandon secrecy or who knew what sort of wild story would arise.

  Sir Richard and his brother reached London again in time for dinner. They had said little on their ride, and they sat down at the table in continuing silence.

  “Where is my mother?” Sir Richard asked the butler as the first course was served.

  “Lady Beckwith is dining at her aunt’s this evening,” was the reply.

  Thomas made a face. “Poor Mama!”

  “She asked me to inform you that she will see you at the Jordans’ musical entertainment this evening.”

  “Thank you, Hodge,” said Sir Richard.

  “Music,” Thomas groaned. “Do we have to go?”

  “Yes,” answered his brother, throwing him a significant glance.

  “Oh. Right.” They had to be seen in London, to give Lord Fenton no reason to suspect they had rescued Bess. And if Lady Beckwith was going to the party, all the ton would be there, her sons knew.

  The two brothers accordingly dressed and went to the Jordans’ at the appointed time. Lady Beckwith arrived only a little after them, and at once hurried over. “Where have you been all day?” she asked. “None of the servants seemed to know. What have you been up to?”

  “We went riding in the morning, for an hour only,” replied Sir Richard meaningfully. “And then took care of some business in the City. And so you should tell anyone who asks you.”

  Lady Beckwith blinked at his tone. “I should?”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Very well.” She looked from him to Thomas. “I shall demand an explanation, you know. But not now. Is everything all right?”

  Sir Richard nodded. “Far more than that.”

  She raised her eyebrows, but an acquaintance joined them just then, putting an end to private conversation, and in a few minutes, the music began.

  There was one interval in the performance, and the Beckwith brothers rose with alacrity when it came and made their way to the buffet. “Fenton isn’t here,” said Thomas in a low voice as they procured champagne.

  “No,” answered his brother. “Perhaps he had some other errand tonight.”

  “The cottage?”

  “No doubt. But we can’t talk of it here.”

  “He has been in town most evenings,” persisted Thomas in a near whisper.

  “Very late, you may have noticed. And that is precisely why we are boring ourselves with this second-rate concert tonight. Now, be silent!” He looked about the room. “Ah, there is Lady Devere. I have been trying to speak to her all evening.” Sir Richard swiftly made his way to Lady Devere’s side and bent to murmur in her ear. Her expression shifted from concern to surprise to pleasure, and by the time he had finished, she was smiling and nodding emphatically. It was not until just before the end of the interval that Sir Richard moved away from her, and he found that Thomas had been surrounded by a lively group of his friends. He turned toward the door of the refreshment room, and met Lord Fenton coming in.

  “Ah, Beckwith,” said the latter. “I wondered if I would find you here.”

  “Indeed?” Sir Richard raised his blond brows in polite surprise.

  “I thought you might have gone out of town.”

  “Really, why?”

  “Just a notion of mine. I thought you might be searching for something you had…lost.”

  Sir Richard feigned mystification. “Lost? I don’t understand. Something I lost outside London? I have been in town for the entire Season.”

  “So you have. An eventful one.”

  “Every Season has its incidents.”

  “I refer, of course, to your engagement.”

  “Ah.” Sir Richard did not like the turn this conversation was taking.

  “The lovely Miss Devere is not here this evening?”

  “No.”

  “Not ill, I hope?”

  “No,” said Sir Richard again. He realized that Fenton was twitting him on the awkwardness the stories of Bess should have created between Julia and him. Fenton had no way of knowing that this was now past. However, his thrusts hit home in another way, since Bess was now in Julia’s charge. Sir Richard did not want Lord Fenton’s attention on Julia. “Very busy with wedding preparations,” he added, hoping to discourage the man.

  “Ah.” Fenton dropped this line. “Did you happen to see Atkinson today? I looked for him at Tattersall’s and White’s, but he wasn’t about.”

  “I had business in the City,” answered Sir Richard.

  Fenton nodded distantly, as if he were not really interested. But Sir Richard could see that his eyes were sharp and vicious. He had discovered that Bess was gone, Beckwith concluded, but he wasn’t certain how it had happened. His hired ruffians must have indeed fled. This was reassuring.

  “Are
you a vengeful man, Sir Richard?” was Lord Fenton’s next remark. It did not seem to follow, but Sir Richard got the point.

  “Vengeful?” He paused. “No, I don’t believe I am.”

  “Really?” Lord Fenton made it sound as if this were rather pedestrian. “It is one of my besetting sins, alas. Vengeance.”

  “Indeed?” Sir Richard was all courteous lack of interest.

  “When someone does me an ill turn, I cannot rest until I have evened the score.” His eyes bored into Beckwith’s, seeking to cow him.

  “That must be wearisome,” was his unshaken reply, “to be always totting up points to make certain you are even.”

  “On the contrary. It can be a positive pleasure.”

  Sir Richard made a politely disbelieving sound. “The music is beginning,” he said. “If you will excuse me?”

  “Of course.” Fenton nodded as the other walked away. But he watched him with sharp suspicion until he disappeared through the doorway of the refreshment room.

  “What did he say to you?” hissed Thomas when Sir Richard took his seat again.

  “Only what might be expected.”

  “He knows?”

  “Oh, yes. But only that she is gone. Now be quiet, for God’s sake.”

  Thomas subsided, and Lady Beckwith glanced speculatively at them from his other side. Thomas would tell her the whole story, she knew, so there was no need to chafe.

  Fourteen

  Bess did not recover consciousness for two days, and those interested in her welfare found that the time hung heavy. The Beckwiths did not venture out of London, for Sir Richard had discovered on the day following the exchange with Lord Fenton that he was being watched by a rough-looking individual with a broken nose. Thomas was similarly blessed, and though he was eager to try slipping away from his watcher, Sir Richard forbade it as too suspicious. The thing that worried him most was the chance that they might lead Lord Fenton to Julia’s house. The very idea made him shudder.

  Julia, meanwhile, was concerned mainly about her own nursing skills. She had never nursed anyone before, and she feared she might forget some vital step or not notice a crucial change. Dr. Phillips reassured her on each visit, but when Bess remained unresponsive, she couldn’t help but worry. Her fears were nothing to Michael Shea’s, however. After the first day, he became convinced that Bess would die, and Julia felt as if she had two patients on her hands as she constantly reminded him of the doctor’s optimism and pointed out that Bess was quieter and seemed in less distress.