Mischief

by Laura Parker

  “Stubborn pride,” she heard Lady Simms’s voice say softly at her back.

  “I will pack and leave at once,” Japonica said to herself as she reentered the entry hall. There was nothing to prevent her from simply walking away from Croesus Hall and all it represented. She could lose herself in the metropolis that was London as easily as a mouse in a hayloft. She would not be missed. All involved would expel a breath of relief, including her.

  Her footsteps slowed as she noticed the front door was again thrown open and through it could be seen the shadow of a second coach on the drive. A moment later, a man emerged from the shadow and she came to a halt, transfixed by recognition.

  Devlyn had come to Croesus Hall! God forgive her, she still could not look upon him without such emotion that she felt choked by it. Tears rose in her eyes. He looked better than she had ever seen him, whereas she had never felt more wretched. He wore traveling clothes of a heavy great coat and chamois breeches and riding boots. His hair, a little longer, lifted in the breeze. His color was high and the easy smile that rode his expression took away years of care and strain. How could he be so happy? Of course, he did not yet know that she stood inside the doorway. Perhaps he thought he had frightened her away. Perhaps he hoped she had thrown herself into the Thames and had done with her miserable life that counted for nothing with him.

  She felt her world turn over on itself and the madness she had so often spoken of in passing had at last taken hold. For he had turned back to reach through the coach door and when he faced forward again, he had in his arms a squirming bundle.

  “No!” she whispered. She put up a hand as though to blot out the image but she could not look away. Like the condemned figures in paintings of the Last Judgment, she was drawn by an inexplicable horror to look upon the confirmation of her own damnation. The wind caught the upper edge of the blanket and flung it back from the cherubic face of her son.

  The last thing Devlyn expected upon entering his ancestral home was to find Japonica Abbott spread upon the entry carpet in a faint. But his surprise did not last beyond the realization. He could surmise what had occurred and why. Cursing himself for not better judging the moment, he thrust his son into Bersham’s startled arms and knelt down on the rug beside her.

  He had just lifted up her unresponsive body and propped her head against his chest when Jamie let loose a wail of fright.

  “Bounce him on your shoulder, man!” Devlyn ordered without a backward glance.

  He noticed a dozen inconsequential things about her as he gathered her up against his chest. The satin of her cheek was cool as ice. Yet how warm and soft her weight felt against him, so natural and good he cold not resist embracing her more strongly than was absolutely necessary to hold her upright. She still smelled of henna, her personal perfume that despite their surroundings, possessed the potency to curl deep in his loins as desire. He would have liked nothing better than to scoop her up and carry her away to a place of privacy where he might kiss her awake and then go on kissing her until they had satisfied every question and healed every hurt between them with loving touches. But, of course, that could not be.

  Even as he bent to her, the babe’s keening wail drew curious people from all directions; among them, his own aunt.

  Lady Simms sailed into the entry with a glass of sherry in one hand and a biscuit in the other. When she spied the tableau of the butler with babe and Devlyn on his knees beside Japonica, she stopped short.

  “Dev, dear boy. Whatever are you about? And who is that sniveling brat?”

  Devlyn smiled up at her. “Lady Simms, allow me to introduce to you James Michael Abbott, my son.”

  “Your son?” Lady Simms’s astonishment lit her whole face. She glanced from the wailing child to the lady being revived at her feet and back at Devlyn. “You fool! You thorough-going rogue!”

  She lifted her wineglass and threw the contents in Devlyn’s face.

  Some of the sherry splashed across Japonica’s face, rousing her. She lay blinking for a few senseless moments, staring up into the shadowed face of the man she had hoped never to see again. And then she remembered why he was here. He had Jamie!

  A surge of panic spurred by pure maternal instinct made her reach up and grip his lapel. “You can’t have him! Jamie belongs to me!”

  “Ye’re holding him too tight,” Aggie cautioned as Jamie fretted and wiggled in his mother’s lap.

  “I don’t care,” Japonica answered, but attempted to accommodate her son’s bid for freedom. “I may never put him down again.”

  “Och, ye will.” Aggie smiled as she laid out fresh clothing for the child. They had been given the small room next to the dowager’s bedchamber, which was large enough for Aggie and the wet nurse. Jamie was sleeping in his mother’s bed. In the two days since their arrival they had been closeted away as if the rest of the world did not exist, yet both women were very aware that it did. Lord Sinclair had come to the door three times each day only to be turned away. And each time they felt the mounting anger in his tone and knew it would soon boil over into action.

  If Japonica would not see reason on her own, Aggie decided it was time she forced her grand brave girl to it.

  She stepped over to smile at the mother and child. “He’s been after wanting yer arms about him these last weeks. Neither nanny nor I could long do to please him. Och, child, ye’re not to grieve every time I speak.”

  “I’m sorry.” Japonica wiped away a tear with the back her of hand. “I just can’t believe that you and Jamie are really here.”

  “Ye’ve Lord Sinclair to thank for that.” Aggie saw her mistress stiffen at the mention of his name, but went right on. “Without his lordship’s aid we’d be in Portugal still. Never saw a man who could barter better. Yer father, rest his soul, included. And what language doesn’t he speak? Portuguese to the Lisbon authorities, Basque and French as we traveled. I don’t wonder but he could charm his way out of Hell.”

  Ignoring this, Japonica picked Jamie up under his arms and held him up so that only his toes brushed her lap. He chirped in pleasure to be held upright and pedaled his feet in the air, his pink mouth agape in a happily crooked smile that melted her heart. He was heavier than she remembered, his arms and legs filled out with deep dimples in his knees and thighs and wrists and elbows. And his once nearly bald head was sprouting tufts of dark curly hair. “He’s grown, so, Aggie. I’d not have recognized him had you not been with him.”

  “Nae, lass, ye’d always know yer son. As did his father. His lordship never asked. Just took one look at our Jamie and then picked him up and said, ‘Hello, son,’ just like that. Mild as ye might ever want Jamie took right to him.”

  Japonica looked away from Aggie. “He’s not Jamie’s father.”

  From the moment she spied Jamie in Devlyn’s arms, an unreasoned fear gripped her that she might somehow now lose him to his powerful aristocratic father. She read the gazettes. Men could accuse their wives of adultery and have them locked away in prison or the madhouse with none to gainsay them. How easy would it be for a lord to take a child away from a commoner who the world would see as his lowborn mistress. She did not know if she really believed Devlyn capable of such perfidy, but she could not endure even the possibility.

  Aggie continued folding the babe’s linen. “I said his lordship didn’t ask me any questions. But he had a whale of a tale to tell. All about his lost memory and how he was once known as the Hind Div.” She cast a sidelong glance at the younger woman. “But I suppose ye’d be knowin’ all about it.”

  “Not all of it,” Japonica answered shortly and set Jamie back onto her lap. “Jamie’s wet.”

  Aggie tossed her a fresh linen square. “Ye should hear his lordship out, lass. He’s most eager to talk with ye.”

  “You better than anyone, Aggie, should know why I cannot.”

  “He’s the Hind Div and I ken what that means to ye. But there’s been such doin’s since ye came to London that c
hanges things a bit. The Hind Div’s become a good and proper aristocrat what can give ye a good life. I ken ye’ve a bairn that’s pined away these last weeks for a mother he scarce can recognize despite his longing for her. I ken his mother’s in love with the man who gave him life ….”

  “I do not love him,” Japonica cut in, but Aggie didn’t even pause.

  “… And Jamie has a sire who, without knowing for certain the child was his, crossed two war-torn countries to seek him out. That’s what I ken. Jamie needs a father and ye a husband.”

  “Not this man.”

  “Och, well, if ye’re goin’ to be particular. Is it the cut of his coat ye don’t like? Or is it his empty cuff?”

  “You know it is not that,” Japonica answered indignantly.

  “I will nae lie to ye to spare yer feelings. Ye’ve the good of others besides yerself to think of. Ye’ve the look of a lass in love and he’s the look of a man with a short leash on his temper. Simplest done is pair ye off and let time work out the rest.”

  Japonica shook her head. “He—he doesn’t love me. We were together in London, once. He deserted me before he found out about Jamie.”

  “Och, that were simply mended, if ye were of a mind to make it so. A man’s not a great complex beast lass. It’s for women to worry and fuss and devise and consider. A man’s little more than what is in his heart and between his legs. If ye engage the one the other will come along behind.”

  Japonica smiled in despite of her reluctance to continue the subject. “You make men sound like dumb animals.”

  “Och! Dumb they aren’t. Blathering on and on, full of shouts and oaths and threats. But that’s all racket and ruckus.” Aggie put her hand on Japonica’s shoulder. “He’s a man that loves ye. I would nae steer ye toward him if I believed else. Ye’ve only to see him with Jamie. He’s a natural father and will become better as the days go on. But ye must act soon, lass. Men, for all they will deny it, are but thin-skinned creatures. They’ll run away if their pride is bruised too often with no salve of a woman’s lovin’ to comfort them. Give him what he wants and what ye need, and what Jamie deserves.”

  Japonica squared her shoulders, a bleak expression on her face. “I cannot. It will never work.”

  Aggie shook her head. She had known Japonica since she was a wee bairn. She could be as stubborn in her indecision as any man who held to his heartfelt conviction. “Ye will have to speak to him sometime. Today, tomorrow, or the one after.”

  Japonica said nothing for a moment. There were so many things she did want to say to Devlyn but she feared her strength was not equal to the daunting task of facing him again. “How did he know, Aggie? About Jamie.”

  “Isn’t that something ye should be asking him?” When she did not answer Aggie clucked her tongue. “ ’Twas one of yer stepdaughters. She wrote him after stealing one o’ me letters.”

  “Laurel.” Japonica sighed in wonder. There seemed no end to the girl’s treachery.

  “Aye, that’s the one his lordship calls The Great Goose.”

  “She is a only a silly spoiled girl.”

  “She is a coldhearted, vicious creature,” Aggie pronounced without mercy. “If she cannae ken the error of her ways, she’ll poison every bit of happiness to come her way the rest o’ her days.”

  Much as she resisted the idea, Japonica suspected Aggie spoke no more than the truth. “More’s the pity. For I now think her sisters will do quite well in their world.”

  “No little thanks to ye.” Aggie smiled at her startled expression. “His lordship spent many an hour in the coach holding the babe. With little else to do, he talked a great deal about ye.”

  Japonica blushed and set her son back on her knee. “I do not care for Lord Sinclair’s opinion of me.”

  “I don’t doubt. So I will nae be offering it.”

  There was a sharp rap on the door, followed by the imperious voice of Lady Simms saying, “Open this door at once!”

  Japonica rose and went to it, released the bolt, and opened it a fraction.

  Lady Simms’s eyes narrowed when she noted Japonica’s caution. “I have come to make myself known to my grandson. I do not thank you for the title. I shall be very cross about it for some little while. But I do not intend the babe to suffer for his mother’s insensitivity in attaching the odious appellation of grandparent to me.” She stuck the silver point of her walking stick into the breech of the door. “Stand aside, Japonica, or I will do you a mischief, yet!”

  Japonica saw a shadow move along the hallway beyond Lady Simms and her congenial expression altered. “Madame, do I have your word that you will not by trickery allow Lord Sinclair entrance, should I invite you in?”

  Lady Simms eyed her with faint distaste. “I try to like you, girl. But you make it demmed difficult in this moment. I will not give my word and you will not ask it of me. Dev is the gentlest soul in the world, yet you treat him as a roue and a scoundrel when he is willing to make an honest woman of you.”

  “I beg your pardon …”

  “Enough!” Devlyn stepped up behind his aunt and thrust his hand into the opening before Japonica could slam it. He glowered at her through the narrow space, the one golden eye she could see, blazing. “Madame, my patience is at an end. I wish to speak with you, privately. If you will not have it so, then we shall shout at one another through this damn door, but you will hear me out. Now! Which shall it be?”

  Caught by circumstance, Japonica released the door and backed away. But she did not try to hide her fury as first Lady Simms sailed past her in a confection of lavender and creme and then Lord Sinclair presented himself, wearing a new suit of black superfine and looking as daunting as thunder clouds from a tropical typhoon.

  “You will need a coat, bonnet, and stout shoes,” he said without preamble. “I will wait for you in the entry below. You have five minutes.” He touched his watch fob for emphasis. “Five.”

  “What a fine fellow he has become,” Lady Simms remarked when Devlyn had strode out. “Never seen him give a fig for style before.” She gave Japonica a sharp glance. “This is your doing. Do not make a hash of it, girl.”

  “Now then,” she said with a smile as she turned to Aggie. “Let me hold this little monkey who regales the household with so many squawks and screeches and wails at all hours.”

  Precisely five minutes later, Japonica walked beside Lord Sinclair as he led her down a walkway swept clear of snow to a small gazebo at the back of the rear garden. She was surprised to discover that shutters enclosed it and that a small fire had been lit at its center.

  Devlyn watched her closely as they walked along, though he made certain she never caught his eye. She seemed smaller than he remembered, more self-contained, beyond his reach. In a few short weeks she had gone from the self-effacing manner of a governess to the untouchable regal bearing of an aristocrat. While he found the first annoying, he detested the latter. Neither was she the woman he had first glimpsed in all her glory at the Mirza’s dinner and then later that night held in his arms.

  He wanted very badly to break down this aloof demeanor but he knew if he pushed her too quickly she would flee and he would lose her once and for all.

  “Now then,” he said when she had seated herself in one of the two chairs that had been placed near the flames. “I would know your plans.”

  “Plans?” His question was not one Japonica expected. “I’m leaving.”

  “I see.” He stood a little ways away, as if he did not wish to come too near. “And you will do this in a month, perhaps, or when the spring thaw sets in?”

  “Tonight.” The declaration surprised her almost as much as it did him.

  His dark brows shot up his forehead. “You’re in no fit state to leave tonight.”

  Japonica folded her mittened hands together in her lap. “I think I may decide what I can and cannot do.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Where do you propose to go?” His voice w
as unemotional again but he had grown very still, his deeply hooded golden eyes the only thing alive in his face.

  “This has nothing to do with you,” she said crossly. “Despite appearances, and your unwelcome interference, it has only to do with my desire to be away to my new life.”

  “Then you can at least wait until morning.”

  “No!” Japonica stood up and turned away from him. “I cannot in good conscience spend another night beneath a roof you share.”

  Devlyn heard in that confession the first glimmer of hope. “Very well. I will take myself off.”

  “You certainly shall not!” She turned back to him, a furious expression on her face. “You are lord of the manor. I am the interloper. An untenable situation that will only be made more suspect by every hour we share a residence.”

  “Neither you nor I have ever given a good goddamn what others may think of us. That much admit.”

  “You need not swear at me,” she began.

  “I will shout the roof down with invective if you persist in missish behavior!” he roared back.

  “You may do as you wish,” she countered primly. “This is your home.”

  He took a step toward her. “There are times when I think I should simply abduct you. Then in peace we can roar and shout at one another until we are ready to assuage this passion that passes so often as anger between us.”

  She rose hastily from her seat. “You dare say that to me? After you now know all that has occurred between us? Even in Baghdad?” she added as a whisper.

  He ignored this. “You must at least hear me out. I can imagine what you have thought of me.” Her arch expression made him recant, “Very well, perhaps not entirely. But I am not insensitive to the sorrows and humiliation life can heap upon the unprotected. I cannot think what Lord Abbott was about, to send you directly into my path.”

  Japonica started. “What do you mean, your path?”