by Brenda Hiatt
As she spoke, she gestured toward Miss Turpin’s abigail, whom Rush recalled seeing briefly at Ivy Lodge. Which made little sense.
“I, ah, yes. Well.” Miss Turpin threw a decidedly flustered look toward Rush and Killer, then quickly turned away, her color rising. “Oh! I have just this moment recollected that I promised my aunt we would be back by noon, so I am afraid we must be going at once. I quite lost track of the time.”
The modiste stepped forward in some concern. “But your purchases, Miss Turpin?”
“Yes, yes, you have the patterns I selected, so pray have them made up with these.” She swept a hand over a shimmering pile of fabric on a nearby table. “I trust your judgment, Madame Fanchot, but should you have any questions, just send a note round and I will be happy to answer them.”
“But…what of Mrs. Turpin’s gowns?” The modiste looked pointedly at the maid.
Oddly, Miss Turpin made no more effort to correct Madame Fanchot’s misapprehension than she had Lady Simpson’s.
Rush was about to ask what the devil was going on when Violet shot him a look of mingled plea and warning that instantly aroused his suspicions.
Her next words only strengthened them. “Oh, never mind those just now. We, ah, really must get back immediately, or my aunt will be frightfully worried.” With a sketchy curtsey toward them all, she ushered her maid toward the outer door.
“A moment, Miss Turpin,” Rush called out.
One hand already on the door, she turned with obvious reluctance. “Yes?”
“As Lady Puttercroft is not with you, I feel I should offer you my escort back to her house. Your brother, I feel certain, would expect no less of me.”
Lady Simpson frowned. “But my lord, I thought—”
Rush disarmed her with his best smile. “I’m sure Lord Killerby will be more than pleased to see you and your daughter home, my lady. It is fortunate, is it not, that there are two of us, that neither set of ladies need traverse the streets of London unaccompanied? I will call upon you once I have seen the Turpin ladies to Lady Puttercroft’s.”
He then turned back to Violet, who appeared to be laboring under some strong emotion. The girl was clearly up to something, and he intended to discover what.
“Shall we?” He opened the door for her and, with a look both confused and apprehensive, she swept past him with her maid.
“Have you no carriage to summon, Miss Turpin?” he asked when they had walked past several other shops.
Not meeting his eye, she shook her head. “No. I, ah, preferred to walk.”
“Do you mean to say that Lady Puttercroft had no fault to find with you walking all the way to Bond Street, accompanied only by your maid? I had understood from your brother that she has a far stricter sense of propriety than to allow such a thing.”
“I, ah, may not have mentioned to her that I intended to forgo the carriage. After two long days of travel, however, I very much needed to stretch my legs a bit.”
“I see,” he said, though he still couldn’t claim he did. “Rather as you neglected to mention to Lady Simpson or the modiste that your maid is not, in fact, Mrs. Turpin? How came they to make such an error in the first place?”
Her cheeks grew noticeably pinker. “Er, well, you see… When we first arrived, Madame Fanchot jumped to the conclusion that my Brigid was Dina, because my aunt had described her and they share the same coloring.”
Rush turned to regard the following maid with a critical eye and realized that much was true. The girl was also of a similarly diminutive stature, but there all resemblance ended, for their features were not at all alike.
“And you did not correct her?”
“I…I was just about to do so when Lady Simpson spotted us and made the same assumption. It occurred to me that she might not consider it quite…proper that I had walked to Bond Street with only my abigail, so I did not immediately correct her for fear she might mention it to my aunt.”
“And Lady Simpson had no suspicion of the truth even after speaking with your abigail?”
Miss Turpin chewed at her lower lip before replying. “I, ah, may have implied that Dina lost her voice due to a recent cold so that Brigid’s speech would not give her away,” she confessed.
“So you compounded your original lapse of walking out unattended by telling Lady Simpson a falsehood. Did it not occur to you that she would discover soon enough that Mrs. Turpin is not in Town? She implied that she and your aunt are friends. I rather doubt Lady Puttercroft will be pleased to learn—”
“Oh, but you will not tell her, will you?” She looked imploringly up at him with those bewitching dark blue eyes. “We left the shop before my little fib was discovered, so there was no real harm done. If Lady Simpson should ask later, I can say that my brother and his wife went back to Ashcombe sooner than planned. No doubt my mother will be telling all the world their news soon, which would explain their sudden departure.”
Thor had not been wrong that the girl bore watching—she’d been in London less than a day and was already up to mischief. He was careful not to let his amusement show, as that would only encourage her. Rush had, after all, promised to keep her out of trouble, if at all possible. Clearly the task would prove every bit as challenging as he’d feared.
When they reached the Puttercroft house a few moments later, she thanked him prettily for escorting her there. “I would invite you in, my lord, but my aunt has been rather indisposed of late. She recently turned her ankle, you see, so is unable to navigate the stairs to receive callers.”
The explanation seemed plausible, but something in her manner suggested there was more to the story.
“Even so, I would feel remiss if I did not make any attempt to pay my respects to Lady Puttercroft. I’ll have my name sent up and she can choose to receive me or not. That way I can leave knowing I have done my duty.”
As he’d half expected, Miss Turpin seemed distressed by his insistence. She did not argue, however, and moment later they were admitted by an elderly butler, to whom Lord Rushford extended his card.
“Oh, pray do not trouble yourself, Wiggins.” Miss Turpin reached for the small rectangle of parchment. “I am going upstairs to put off my cloak anyway, so I can easily take Lord Rushford’s card up myself.”
No doubt about it, something havey-cavey was going on. He’d give his oath Miss Turpin had no intention of telling her aunt he was here. But why? Keeping hold of his card when Miss Turpin would have taken it, he pointedly handed it to the butler instead.
“I’m sure Lady Puttercroft would prefer to have the niceties observed,” he said mildly, but in a tone that brooked no disagreement.
With a bow, the butler ascended the stairs.
Violet’s heart sank as she watched Wiggins depart. Perhaps Aunt Philomena would be too caught up in preparing for tomorrow’s journey to speak with Lord Rushford?
Alas, only a moment later her aunt’s carrying voice floated down from two floors above.
“How delightful! No doubt they encountered him while shopping. Pray show them all up here, Wiggins. Lord Rushford is a great friend of my nephew’s, so I am certain he will take no offense if I receive him in my private sitting room rather than the parlor.”
The butler returned a moment later with the dreaded summons. Violet accompanied Lord Rushford up the stairs with mounting trepidation. Surely there must be some way to salvage her lovely plan? She had been so close to success!
“You may wait in my chamber,” she whispered to Brigid when they reached the upper landing. “No need for you to get into trouble as well.” Nor did she wish to risk the girl blurting out something that might make matters even worse.
Clearly relieved, Brigid slipped into Violet’s room while the others continued on. Just before reaching her aunt’s rooms, Violet put a hand on Lord Rushford’s sleeve. “Please, my lord, if you will just allow me to—”
But it was too late.
“Ah, Lord Rushford, welcome,” Lady Puttercroft exclaimed from
her chaise longue. “As you can see, I currently find it difficult to move about, so I appreciate your forbearance in attending me here.” She gestured toward her foot. “Pray don’t mind the clutter. My maid is in the middle of packing my things for my journey to Brighton tomorrow. No doubt my niece or Mrs. Turpin informed you of it? Where is Mrs. Turpin, by the bye?”
“Er…in her room,” Violet replied with another pleading glance at Lord Rushford. His only response was a raised eyebrow, which reassured her not at all.
Her aunt, oblivious to the exchange, clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Was her first foray into the shops of London too much for her? I cannot say I am surprised, for it must seem overwhelming to someone who has spent her whole life in the country. I hope you advised her to have a lie down? She may take her luncheon on a tray if she prefers, that she can remain quiet for the rest of the day. I’ll have a nice tea brought up for the rest of us.”
Lord Rushford cleared his throat. “Pardon me, my lady, but did I hear you say that you mean to leave London tomorrow?”
“Aye, to visit my sister. I can scarcely chaperone dear Violet about with my foot in this state, so with Mrs. Turpin here to do that office, I thought I might as well take the sea air for a fortnight or so.”
The earl turned toward Violet with an expression of disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me, Miss Turpin, that your aunt also believes your sister-in-law is here in Town with you?”
Trapped, Violet gave no answer beyond a tiny nod.
“Whatever do you mean, Lord Rushford?” Aunt Philomena exclaimed. “Of course Mrs. Turpin is here in Town. I met her last night and again at the breakfast table this morning. I think I can safely trust the evidence of my own eyes.”
Much to Violet’s chagrin, he responded, “Unless I am greatly mistaken, madam, the woman you met was Miss Turpin’s abigail, whom I will admit does bear a superficial resemblance to Mrs. Turpin. Mr. Turpin and his wife remained in Staffordshire, to prepare for the birth of their first child later this year.”
Lady Puttercroft turned to Violet in astonishment. “Is this true?” she demanded. “The young lady who traveled here with you is your maid and not Mrs. Turpin?”
Violet swallowed. “I…I fear it is so, Aunt. But on my honor, I did not set out to deceive you! When we arrived last night, you assumed that my Brigid was Dina and I, ah, merely allowed your assumption to stand. I thought—”
“I can well imagine what you thought! You thought that if I believed you to have a proper chaperone here in my place, I would depart in ignorance, leaving you to your own devices with no supervision whatsoever. Have you no shame? Your mother assured me that you had learned your lesson after I sent you home for your transgressions last Season, but I see she was wrong. Well! Now I must write to poor Letitia to tell her I will not be visiting after all. I am exceedingly disappointed in you, Violet, indeed I am.”
“I am sorry, Aunt Philomena,” Violet replied in a small voice. “It was wrong in me, I know.” She carefully avoided Lord Rushford’s eye.
“It certainly was,” her aunt returned with a sniff. “Thank heaven Lord Rushford exposed your little plot before I left Town. Have you any idea of the scandal it would cause if it became known you were staying here all alone but for the servants? You would be quite ruined! And after I promised your mother to see you well married—though part of the blame must rest on her head for misrepresenting your improvement since last Season. Hmph.”
She turned back to Lord Rushford. “I pray you will excuse me, my lord, but I must write to my sister at once to cancel my visit. Then I must decide whether to allow my niece to remain in Town, confined to the house until my ankle heals, or to send her back to her mother. I fear our tea will have to be deferred to a later date.”
“Of course,” he replied with a slight bow. “I am sorry to have been the bearer of such distressing news. I promise you it had not occurred to me—”
“No, no, I owe you a great debt of gratitude, my lord, for had you not stopped in, I likely would have left London on the morrow in ignorance, and there is no knowing what mischief my niece might have got into. I’m sure you understand as well as I how dangerous such a circumstance would have been!”
“I do indeed,” he said with a sidelong glance at Violet. “In fact, given your current immobility and Miss Turpin’s, ah, unpredictability, might I venture a suggestion?”
Lady Puttercroft regarded him uncertainly. “A suggestion?”
He inclined his head. “If you would like, I can ask Lady Simpson if she would be willing to provide a measure of supervision for Miss Turpin until you are recovered. Her daughter and Miss Turpin are already well acquainted, and from what I know of Lady Simpson, she will likely be equal to the task.”
“Why, what a capital idea, my lord! If she is willing, it would be an admirable solution. I will write Lady Simpson a note now, requesting her help.”
She motioned to her maid for pen, paper and a lap desk
“I will be happy to deliver it, as I mean to call there shortly,” Lord Rushford offered.
“That’s very kind of you, my lord. Mind you, we must make certain Lady Simpson has no inkling of what my niece attempted to do. Otherwise she’d likely refuse outright, for her ideas of propriety are quite as stringent as my own.”
“I quite agree. No good can come of this incident becoming generally known.”
Though mortified by their conversation, carried on as though she were not even in the room, Violet dared not intervene. Lady Simpson was like to be every bit as strict as her aunt, and sharper-eyed besides, but her chaperonage would surely be better than spending weeks here as a virtual prisoner—or being sent home.
Her aunt penned a quick note to Lady Simpson. Giving it to Lord Rushford, she bade Violet see him out while she wrote another to her sister in Brighton.
“After that, Missie, you may go to your room to think over your sins. Perhaps then you will be less inclined to make Lady Simpson regret any assistance she may be kind enough to offer.”
Mutely nodding, Violet left the room with Lord Rushford, bracing herself for yet another scold. Nor did he disappoint her.
“Really, Miss Turpin, what were you thinking?” he demanded when they reached the front door. “No doubt you are vexed at me for spoiling your little game, but your aunt is quite right that it could have meant your ruin—or worse—had it succeeded.”
Though she knew she had done wrong, his patronizing air made her bristle. “I told my aunt the truth that I did not originally set out to deceive her. The original mistake was hers. I would have corrected it, but she never gave me a chance. Every time I tried, she interrupted with more to say until at length the temptation to go along with her assumption became rather too great for me to resist.”
“Yes, I have observed how very susceptible you are to temptation,” he said dryly.
She felt her face flame, knowing he referred to her wantonly kissing him in the stables at Ivy Lodge. He made no mention of that, however.
“Witness your attempted elopement a few months since,” he said instead. “If not for your sister-in-law, you would now be married to a fortune hunter.”
Violet sucked in a breath. “How did you know about that? My family went to great pains to keep it quiet.”
“Your brother sought my advice when he first received word you’d run off. Not to worry, I’ve never told another soul. The incident did, however, give me early insight into your character. I therefore felt it prudent to agree when your brother asked me to keep you out of mischief in his stead while in Town. I hardly expected to discover it necessary immediately after my arrival here, however.”
“How dared Grant ask you to interfere in my life?” she demanded, brushing the rest aside. “And how dared you agree to do so? You are not my guardian, Lord Rushford. You have no right—”
“To protect you from your own folly?” he interrupted harshly. “You think I should have held my tongue upstairs and allowed you to bring probable ruin upon your head?
I owe your brother a far greater debt of friendship than that. Headstrong and foolish as you are, he cares about your safety and reputation. I will therefore do my part to safeguard both, as I gave my word to do. Neither he nor Dina deserve to be embroiled in whatever scandal you are determined to create, particularly at such an important time in their lives.”
Shame immediately undercut Violet’s anger. “I…did not think of that.”
“No, thinking ahead does not appear to be one of your strengths.”
At that, her head snapped up defensively. “Do you plan your every word and deed ahead of time, my lord? How very boring that must be.”
“I try to. Failing to plan during war-time held the potential for disaster, as I learned to my cost.” A shadow of pain or sadness clouded his eyes, then was gone. “No doubt Lady Simpson will send word to your aunt about what she might be willing to do for you,” he continued when she made no reply. “Meanwhile, do your best to stay out of trouble, won’t you? Hard as I know that will be for you.”
Donning his hat, his face still set in uncompromising lines, he touched the brim and departed.
Violet stood alone in the foyer for a long moment, angry and humiliated. It seemed that Lord Rushford’s poor opinion of her was formed long before that foolish kiss in the stables. Today’s incident had only served to lower it further. Not that she should care two straws about the opinion of someone so narrow-minded.
Mounting the stairs to her chamber to await the pronouncement of her fate, she could not understand why her heart felt so heavy.
For the second time that day, Rush turned his steps toward Cavendish Square and the Simpson house. As he walked, he struggled to place reason above emotion, which had nearly betrayed him again just now. It had been devilishly difficult to maintain his stern demeanor when Miss Turpin’s pert defiance made him long to kiss her breathless instead.
Folly! he chided himself. Arrant folly! This latest start of hers only underscored—again—what a disastrous choice she would be for a wife.
