Ross pushed the decanter out of Cholly’s reach. “You’ve had enough. If you do not tell me where the hackney dropped the lady, I shall personally pull out every red hair on your head.”
“Why, to your little love nest, of course, or did you think the ladybird was playing you false already?”
“And Calthorpe?” the earl ground out through clenched jaws.
“Well, you are as rich as Golden Ball, so he won. He’s over there collecting now, counting his money.”
Gard slowly stood and poured Calthorpe’s bottle into one of the ferns. “You can tell him for me, Cholly, that if he ever goes near the lady again, or mentions her name, that he’ll be counting his teeth next, in a glass beside his bed.”
*
So Annie and the Tuthills were hiding Miss Green at Laurel Street, Lord Gardiner deduced. This conclusion explained a lot, especially if Miss Green was indeed the missing heiress, which was more and more likely. The fact that everyone else considered Miss Green his mistress was all that kept them from making the connection, while he knew for certain the woman had no ambitions along those lines. Heaven knew he’d dropped enough hints.
The real estate agent was right then; Lady Rosalind had not left any of her staff behind. The Tuthills and Annie must be Miss Avery’s own loyal servants, that they would lie through their teeth for her. That also explained Annie’s instant antipathy toward himself: The old family retainer deemed him a threat to Miss Avery. Naturally Annie also wished to discourage any inquisitive females from snooping around the premises, hence his disappearing demimondaines. Gard had no idea how Annie and the others were getting rid of his companions, but was certain they figured eliminating the women would eliminate his own troublesome presence. He rubbed the lump on the back of his head. Ha! They weren’t going to deter him so easily!
Miss Avery knew of the plot all along, then, might even have been hiding in a cupboard somewhere while he toppled down the stairs. She must have been laughing up her sleeve at him every time she saw him. Blast, the chit was not so innocent after all. Perhaps marriage to her was not such a downy notion.
Ross was determined to have it out with Miss Avery that very morning during their ride, promise or no. Blister it, if she wished to stay at Laurel Street, let her do so openly. Everyone already believed he had installed her there. Then he thought of the parade of women through the house. Granted, they never stayed long—not nearly long enough—but, Zeus, that was not what a fellow wanted his future wife to see. ’Twas a poor reflection on his character, he supposed. Then again, he’d never considered himself good husband material, and a little conniver like Miss Avery would be satisfied with his wealth and title. If he decided to offer them to her.
*
Annalise arrived at the park before Lord Gardiner, so she decided to trot some of the fidgets out of Seraphina on the carriageway right by the gates. She was circling to come back when a man jumped out at her again, grabbing for the reins. This time Clarence was off his horse and had the man pinned to the ground before he could shout her name. The man was not a frippery footman, however; he was stocky and sandy-haired and full of bluster.
Annalise signaled Clarence to let the man up. “Hello, Barnaby. What brings you to London?”
“Jupiter, Leesie, you know dashed well what brings me to London! I’ve been searching high and low for you, out to Bath and halfway to Wales, and here you are, bold as brass, riding in the park!” He angrily wiped the seat of his pants, which were now mud-streaked. “Or did you think I wouldn’t recognize Seraphina, even with those ridiculous painted stockings that come off in the dew, when her sire was my own Altair?”
“Frankly, Barnaby, I didn’t think you’d care.”
“Not care? Not care when the woman I love is making a byword of herself in Town, even if no one knows your name?”
“That’s a farrago of nonsense, Barny. You never loved me at all.”
“I am fond of you, Leesie, more than that reprobate you’ve taken up with ever could be. I cannot believe you’d get in a pother with me over Sophy and then attach yourself to the most depraved man in all of London! The stories, Leesie! Why, they say the Hellfire Club is child’s play compared to Gardiner’s debauchery.”
“That’s ridiculous. His lordship has led an exemplary life since I’ve known him”—not with his cooperation, true—“and has always treated me like a lady.”
Barny ran muddy hands through his hair in exasperation. “You never used to be such a goosecap. The man hasn’t an honorable intention in his body.”
“And you do?” she asked scornfully. “I suppose you think it more honorable for a betrothed man to keep a mistress than for a bachelor?”
Barny flushed, the red color blending into the dirt on his face. “I always intended to marry you at least. Still do. I gave up Sophy, I swear it.”
“You mean you can no longer afford Sophy without my money. No, Barny, we shall never see eye to eye on this.” She started to back the mare away from him.
“That’s right, ride off, enjoy your tryst with the evil earl while you can. Just how long do you think it will take Sir Vernon to get back from Northumberland?”
Annalise again halted the mare, who pranced in place. “What is Sir Vernon doing in Northumberland?”
“Making sure you didn’t take refuge with your grandfather. Not even Thompson would dare call a duke’s granddaughter batty, at least not to his face. Arvenell was your only safe refuge, Leesie. Now I am. Your stepfather has the right to lock you away, and he means to do it. I expect he’ll be here by week’s end. You can’t hide in London, and he’ll chase you down anywhere else. Don’t you understand, people notice veiled women as easily as they notice beautiful ones! And the mare! You might as well send out notices of your new address to the newspapers. Marry me and at least you’ll be able to ride at will. You’ll have a home and a family, your freedom.”
“But what about respect?” she started to say, when she saw Lord Gardiner approaching at a furious pace, thinking she was being harassed.
Barny didn’t see him. “I’ll take care of you, Leesie, you know I will.”
At which words Lord Gardiner leapt off his horse, grabbed the other, heavier man by the shoulder, spun him around, and planted him a facer. Barny went down in the mud again. He took one look at the blood in Lord Gardiner’s eye and decided to stay down. He did call out one more message to his former fiancée: “I’m at the Clarendon, Leesie. I’ll give you three days, then I’ll tell Sir Vernon where you are myself. Three days.”
* * *
“You know you are going to have to let me help,” Gard shouted to Miss Avery’s back as she tried to outride her devils. “Shall I call that nodcock out for you?”
Annalise pulled Seraphina up sharply. Distraught, she cried, “You wouldn’t!” Dear heavens, if she had to fret about Lord Gardiner losing his life or being wounded on top of her other worries, she’d have a seizure for sure. “I forbid it!”
The earl raised an eyebrow. “I do not think you are in a position to forbid me anything, Miss Avery.”
Her quick gasp told him his barb had hit home. “Yes, I know your identity and I feel certain everyone else shall in—what? Three days, was it?—when Sir Vernon comes to town and starts making louder inquiries. I really can help, you know. I have properties where no one could find you, a yacht to get you out of the country if you are set on bolting.” He grinned. “A handy set of fists and excellent aim if you wish to stay to face the challengers.”
“You do not know what you are saying. There is no reason for you to get involved in this coil for me.”
“There is every reason, none of which I feel like discussing on horseback. The only reason you need understand at this moment is that you need help.”
Annalise put her hand to her head. “Oh, I cannot think now!”
Gard reached across the horses to take that hand and give it a comforting squeeze. “And no one shall force you to. You have today and tomorrow to decide what you wi
sh to do. All I ask is that you hear me out before you decide. Will you come with me tomorrow? We could ride out to Richmond, with your guards, of course, to play propriety. No one will know you, no one will distress you. Fresh air, flowers, we’ll pack a picnic lunch. Things will look better there, I swear.”
Annalise knew she shouldn’t, knew with every drop of blood that raced through her body at that slightest touch of his hand that she should stay at least a mile and a half away from this man. She knew it would be harder to marry Barny after one more minute in Gard’s company, much less an entire day. And marriage to Barny was looking more and more like her only choice. It wouldn’t be a terrible marriage, she told herself. He’d be pleasant enough most of the time, and leave her in peace the rest. And he would not break her heart.
But.
How many times had Annalise contradicted her own reasoning with that slippery but? She hated this charade, but she came alive matching wits and words with Lord Gardiner. He was a rake and a rogue, but she ached to wipe the lines of worry from his face. He’d leave her soul in tatters, but she had to have one last day with him.
“Yes, I will ride with you to Richmond.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gard had no intention of letting matters rest until tomorrow. Miss Avery, Leesie—what the deuce kind of name was that?—might not be safe, no matter what the chawbacon in the park said. What if the stepfather came early? He could snatch her away and Gard might never know where she was. Nor did he have any intention of letting Miss Avery make up her own mind about fleeing or marrying the lobcock, despite his assurances to her. Seeing her in supposed peril had quite settled the question in his own mind, after the blood lust drained enough for him to think clearly. The woman was his. That’s all there was to it, primitive male possessiveness toward his mate. He’d tell her tomorrow. Today he had to make sure she was protected.
While he was outside the park gates debating whether to go to the Clarendon and beat the towheaded fellow to a pulp, or go to Laurel Street and ascertain that Miss Avery was, indeed, staying there, a woman on a showy white mare winked at him. As a matter of course Gard noted that she had a good seat, nicely rounded. She had the magnolia skin and jet-black hair that some Spanish beauties possessed, set off by a black habit and shako-style hat with a red feather. An altogether fetching study in contrasts.
“Señor?” she queried.
His stallion Midnight neighed in greeting. “Me too,” Gard seconded. “Si.”
Considering that he expected to be a betrothed man in another day, and considering that he intended to do his damnedest to keep his vows, the earl felt entitled to one last fling. If Miss Avery did find out, she deserved the setdown for making a fool out of him at his own lodgings. She could take it for a lesson that he was not to be trifled with.
*
First he went to Bloomsbury, ostensibly to advise them of company that evening. No one was at home but the maid Lorna, polishing the banister, so he took the opportunity to look around the attics and cellars, searching for signs of occupancy. When Annie returned home, market basket full of fresh lavender for the linen closets and drawers, Lorna directed her upstairs, for “’Is nibs is acting mighty strange.”
Ross was reduced to tapping the wainscoting for hollow sounds, lifting the rugs for trapdoors, feeling like the most caper-witted cocklehead in nature, when he noticed Annie silently observing him from the doorway of the master bedchamber. “Looking for ghosts,” he hurried to tell her. “Making sure nothing frightens away the lady I have coming tonight.”
Annie left just as quietly. The glasses hid the tears that trickled down her cheeks, leaving paths through the yellowish powder. How sad, she thought, he was making a heartfelt assignation with one woman for tomorrow, yet he had to have another tonight. She was right to decide on Barny. Ross Montclaire couldn’t go one evening without a female in his bed.
So let him go to hell in a harlot’s handcart. Annalise no longer cared, and her bag of tricks was empty. Until Maudine came back.
*
Gard repaired to the stables to see what he could discover from Tuthill. The man was as closemouthed as a clam, except for the stream of tobacco spittle he managed to get on Gard’s Hessians. “Sorry, gov’nor. Didn’t see you standin’ there.”
“You wouldn’t know anything about any mysterious young ladies, would you?”
Tuthill scratched his head with the sharpening stone he was using on a wicked-looking knife. “You want one in a mask tonight? I doubt my Nan’d approve me goin’ out lookin’, gov’nor, but since that’s all she lets me do, I’ll try.”
“Devil take it, you dolt. You know I meant a real lady, coming here.”
“You bring a real lady here, my Nan and Annie’d have your hide for sure. You’d be eatin’ stone soup and cinders for days. And they’d take the lady and wash her mouth out with soap and march her off to church or sommat.”
The earl twitched his crop against his leg. The stableman was more like to tap his claret than tell the truth. “I am not happy with this situation, Tuthill.”
“Not by half, I’ll warrant.” Tuthill tossed the knife to test its haft, accidentally slicing off one of the tassels on Gard’s boots. “Sorry, gov. Needs more work.”
*
Nobody answering Gard’s description of the man who accosted Miss Avery was staying at the Clarendon. That is, they had no tavern-mannered, tub-of-lard jackanapes lout with straw-colored hair. There was a Mr. Barnaby Coombes staying there who was blond and stocky, but he was out for the day. No, my lord did not wish to leave a message. He wished to tear the man’s heart out, but he said he’d return another time.
*
Angelita was whispering sweet nothings in Gard’s ear on the way up the stairs. They were nothings indeed—the sultry wench didn’t have a particle of sense, and not much English, either—but they felt good, until they entered the bedroom and she let out a piercing scream that was like to reverberate through his brain box for days. He turned as she began pummeling him with her reticule. “I did not do it!” he yelled, not knowing what he was denying, since he couldn’t see beyond the beaded missile and he could not understand the Spanish curses she was raining on his head along with the blows.
Annie pushed past him, grabbed up the wash-stand pitcher, and tossed the contents at Angelita. “Basta, you ninnyhammer. Of course he didn’t do it. How dare you think he did! Now, get out. Vamos usted.” Annie held the pitcher over her head, ready to throw that, too, if necessary. Angelita vamoosed.
Gard was already at the bedside before Angelita was out the door, screaming of los locos. He gently examined Maudine’s blackened eye and split, bloody lip.
“I swear to you, whoever did this will be fortunate if he lives to see tomorrow’s dawn.”
“No, you must not, my lord. It was my man. He’d only beat me worse.”
“Why did he do this to you, my dear?”
“Because I ran away from you yesterday and brought no money home, only the lovely bonnet. He said I had to come back, so I did. Annie says you’re not a brute after all, it was all a hum.” Looking up at him through the one eye that opened, she confessed, “I don’t understand the joke, but Annie says you’ll fix things right.”
Gard looked at Annie, so confident, so trusting. Oh, Lud, how could anything make this right?
Eventually he promised to find Maudine somewhere safe, perhaps with Mother Ignace. Zeus knew, not even Cholly’s mother was that broadminded. He gave her the ring that had gone begging in his robe pocket all these nights, knowing how she liked pretty things, and the promise of whatever blunt she needed, until she was settled somewhere, somewhere her so-called protector could never trespass. He also vowed to teach the scum of a procurer what it felt like to be pummeled by a stronger force. Meantime Maudine should stay right where she was as long as she wished. Gard wouldn’t be needing the bed; he’d never bring another woman here. The house was jinxed.
Later, when the girl was asleep with the help of a
little laudanum, and Gard’s fury was eased with a little cognac, he asked Annie to play for him, to calm his nerves.
While Annie sorted through the music, the earl reviewed the day’s events. Mostly he pictured Maudine’s battered face atop Miss Avery’s vibrant body, under that damnable veil. The thought of his Lady in Green in the hands of a vicious, greedy man made his pulse pound louder than Annie’s tentative practice chords. B’gad, he had to keep her safe!
“Annie, I know—”
“I know I should not have put the girl in your bed, my lord,” she interrupted, turning on the stool so he could see himself reflected in her dark glasses.
“But she was so frightened. I had to prove to her there were no…ghosts there.”
“No, I wanted to discuss—”
“I don’t suppose you can find her a position as a lady’s maid?”
“Not for any lady I know. And I do not think Maudine is suited for a life of service. That type of service. She likes fancy clothes and jewels too much. But what I wanted to ask you was about Miss—” Annie hit a few wrong notes in succession, then stood up. “I am sorry, my lord, but this has been a distressing evening for me. I cannot concentrate on the music. Will you please excuse me? I must see about Miss Maudine at any rate. Good night, my lord.”
“Wait, I need to know—blast!” She was gone. That woman and Tuthill obviously shared a family distaste for the truth. The only difference between them was that Annie didn’t spit and Tuthill didn’t have a mole on his cheek.
*
Aggravated beyond reason, Lord Gardiner went to one of the new gambling dens, hoping to lose himself in a game of cards. None of his acquaintances seemed eager for his company at their table, however.
“Sorry. We’re just playing the last hand.” Or “Too bad, we already have a fourth.” Ivory-tuners were at the craps tables, and Kitty was presiding at the roulette wheel, which left only the hardened gamesters playing faro, never his choice, never among such unsavory company. He left and went to White’s.
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