The Devil May Care

by Emma V. Leech

  Milly couldn't help the shriek of laughter that caught all of their attention. Beau turned in surprise and gave her a rueful grin, winking at her before pulling the weed off his head, with only partial success.

  He turned back to Jimmy, his face dark as the boy quailed a little. "Why, you little wretch," he said, sounding furious, and then added, "I'll get you for that!" throwing the weed back to smack Jimmy full in the face.

  "Oi! Watchit!" Jimmy spluttered and reached for more weed.

  Naturally things went downhill from there and it was a filthy looking bunch of children who emerged from the water once everyone had finally worn themselves out. Beau hadn't fared much better.

  He strode out of the lake with his muscular body streaked with dirt, pond weed stuck in his hair and his sodden drawers clinging to his narrow hips. The white cotton underwear left little to the imagination once wet and Milly swallowed as a rush of desire swept over her and made her blush.

  Beau chuckled and headed towards her.

  "Oh no!" she warned, wagging her finger at him. "No, no, you're all dirty and wet." She squealed as Beau ran after her and she tried to run from him, her long skirts tangling in the meadow grass around the lake.

  She didn't get far and shrieked with laughter as Beau caught her in his arms and kissed her.

  "Oh, you're all cold and wet!" she protested.

  "Maybe so, love," he whispered. "But the look you just gave me warmed me up I can tell you. I expect you to make good on that later."

  "Hush," she scolded, looking at the boys who were watching them with their eyes on stalks. "Not it front of the children, no, stop it, Beau ... Stop!"

  Chuckling and sounding quite unrepentant he let her go and she tutted at him as she saw the dirty wet hand prints he'd left all over her muslin dress.

  The boys, the duke included, stretched out on the grass to dry in the sun as Milly walked to the edge and began to pull clumps of watercress from the borders.

  "What are you doing?" Beau asked, looking suspicious.

  Milly laughed and waved the dripping green leaves at him in a threatening manner. "Don't worry, I won't make you wear it," she said, grinning. "I'm picking it for Mrs Buss. I had no idea it grew in such profusion here. It's a shocking price for a tiny bunch like that in town."

  Beau frowned and got to his feet, coming to look at where she was standing, where the stream met the lake.

  "There's tons of it," he exclaimed, staring at the thick green foliage. "And they sell it in town?" he asked, a thoughtful look on his face.

  "Of course," Milly said watching him curiously. "Have you never seen the cress sellers on the streets, early in the morning."

  "Yes," he said, bending down to pick a small bunch of cress himself. "I just never really noticed them before you mentioned it."

  "Well you could keep half of London supplied with cress from this lake alone," she chuckled.

  "That's it," he murmured. "All this time trying to discover what we can grow, what will give us the best return ... and this was here all the time. He turned back to her and put his hands to her face, the cress dripping onto her shoulder as he kissed her. "Milly I've said it before but you're a genius, an absolute, beautiful genius."

  "I am?" she replied, laughing at him as he ran to where his clothes had been left in an untidy heap.

  She watched as he yanked his shirt over his head and fought against the material as it stuck to his damp skin.

  He was barely dressed, shoving his feet into his boots as he walked away from her. "I have to see Turnbull," he shouted, his blue eyes glittering with excitement. "I'll be back for dinner."

  "But, Beau!" she exclaimed, taking in his rumpled clothes and dripping hair, still streaked with green. "You can't see him like that. Look at the state of you. Purefoy will resign!"

  "Oh to the devil with Purefoy!" he yelled, snatching his jacket from the tree branch where it was hanging. "This is important!"

  With astonishment Milly watched as the most fashionable man of the ton climbed over a fence and ran across a meadow looking like he'd been half drowned. He'd changed so much, she thought, smiling to herself. That she might have had a hand in that made happiness swell in her chest.

  She turned back to the boys and knelt down to help Eddie and Robbie put their clothes back on.

  "Come along now, my fine fellows. I happen to know for a fact that Mrs Buss has made scones and that there's strawberry jam and cream too."

  The temptation of this glorious treat had the desired effect, and in no time they were heading back to the house.

  ***

  Milly wasn't terribly astonished that Beau missed dinner. In fact he came home so late that she was curled up asleep and woken by a pair of warm lips on the back of her neck. She sighed as his hand slid over her belly, questing between her legs as he pulled her tight against him.

  "You smell like the lake," she murmured as he chuckled against her skin.

  "Is that a complaint, Duchess?"

  "Did you at least pick the weed out of your hair?" she asked, her voice soft and sleepy in the darkness.

  "No," he replied, and she could feel his mouth curve into a smile against her skin. "I'm dirty and sweaty and don't pretend you don't like it. I saw that look as I came out of the lake."

  She gasped as he slid inside her and she heard his low groan of pleasure. "Oh, yes, you do like it," he said, his voice husky now. "In fact I'd say you've been thinking of little else."

  "You said you'd be home for dinner," she pointed out, tilting her head back against him and arching her neck so he could kiss her throat. "I was waiting for you, all alone in this big bed ..."

  "I know it believe me. You have no idea how difficult it was to concentrate for thinking about you ..."

  She smiled as he became utterly focused on making it up to her and wondered how life could suddenly be so wonderfully perfect.

  Chapter 31

  "Wherein an uncharitable heart is discovered."

  "Mr Priestly!" Milly felt her heart jump to her throat as she saw the serious face of the sparse young man standing in the entrance hall with Rexom. "What on earth are you doing here?" She was aware that she'd sounded rather rude but she'd made it quite clear to him that business matters were to be kept away from Greythorpe, and Beau.

  "Good morning, your Grace," he said, smiling at her, his expression warm, and holding out his hands in what Milly considered an over familiar gesture. "Forgive me but I have some pressing business to discuss with you."

  Milly shook his hand in a formal manner, ignoring the other.

  "You'd best come into the drawing room then," she replied, feeling really very annoyed. Thank goodness Beau was out this morning but surely even if he didn't see Mr Priestly one of the staff would mention he had been here.

  "I sent word to Mrs Dashton that I would be coming to town this evening - I have a meeting with her tomorrow to discuss things. Surely it could have waited?" Milly asked, once the door had closed behind them.

  Mr Priestly's face darkened. "No I did not feel it could wait," he said, his eyes grave as he walked closer to her. "And in truth that is the main reason for my visit today. Your Grace, I really cannot approve of that ... woman's involvement in this venture. That a lady such as yourself should be forced to deal with such a ... a ... Well I shan't put a name to her. I would spare your blushes that much at least."

  Milly felt her temper rise at the condescending tone of his voice. She had believed that Mr Priestly had actually admired her abilities, but now he sounded just like any other arrogant man.

  She took a moment to walk away from him and settle herself in a chair, taking a breath so that she didn't let her emotions run away with her. "I did not seek your approval, Mr Priestly, because I do not require it," she said, making sure her words were cool and to the point. She wouldn't be accused of being an overwrought female. "There are many areas where your expertise has been invaluable but Dollie has the ear of many powerful and fashionable people, as she has proven. Not
only that but she is a very wealthy woman, all through her own efforts."

  Mr Priestly snorted with disgust, the shock in his eyes at her words only too clear. "Forgive me, Madame. A lady such as yourself would of course be innocent of such a ... disgusting way of life as that creature has led. Frankly I do not wish to discuss such things before a gently reared female but I think perhaps you have no notion of what form those efforts took. I feel it my duty to protect you from making a serious error of judgement."

  "Of course I am aware," she snapped, infuriated and perfectly content to see the surprise in his expression. "She explained how she fell into her present occupation and I assure you it was not by choice! Pray tell me, how many avenues are open to women with neither name nor fortune. Dollie didn't have a penny to her name or a friend in the world. She did what she had to in order to survive and I won't have you or anyone else treating her with disrespect because she actually did survive, and made a success of it in the process."

  Mr Priestly was stunned into silence. He stared at Milly as though she had transformed before his eyes and then walked the room and went to stare out of the window for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally he turned and adjusted his cravat with his thin fingers, a stony and disapproving set to his jaw.

  "I admit I am extremely disappointed in you," he said, his tone that of a preacher in a pulpit. "I had thought perhaps we were kindred spirits you and I. I had hoped that I could save you from the unpleasantness of your life. Mistakenly I had believed that was what you had intended in starting this ridiculous enterprise, to gain finance enough to escape a man whose lifestyle has always been profligate and could only ever cause you pain and distress. It was the only reason I agreed to be involved with it. I was further convinced of this when I saw how badly he treated you with my own eyes. But I see now that I am too late, the damage is done and he has immersed you in his decadent world."

  Milly stood, too overcome with fury to moderate her tone any further.

  "How dare you!" she raged at him, her fists clenched with anger. "How dare you judge my husband when you know nothing about him. He is a wonderful and kind man and a faithful husband." She ignored his sneer of disbelief, for who cared what he thought anyway. "As for how he treated me that day, he had every right to be angry when he found me with a man who was not my husband and apparently without a chaperone."

  Mr Priestly looked at her, his grey eyes suddenly cold and judging. "Yes, I wonder about that too," he said, his tone harsh. "I had believed that you were an innocent, Lady Ware. From your manner and the way you dressed you struck me as a modest woman trying to escape terrible circumstances." He looked over Milly's pretty muslin dress with a leer than made a blush of anger scorch her cheeks. Whilst by no means scandalous it did show a little cleavage and more of her figure than she had been used to before marrying Beau. "I see now that I have misjudged the situation quite drastically."

  Milly decided to ignore the blatant insult and get to the point. She stared at him, refusing to be cowed by this dreadful man and his sickening opinions.

  "Mr Priestly I thank you for all you have done in making my business a success, but I find I have no further need for your services. You will be paid to the end of the month. I want you out of my premises with immediate effect. Please be sure to return any keys you have. Now if you will excuse me, I am expecting my husband."

  He gaped at her, clearly never expecting that she would dispose of his services.

  Striding towards her with a furious look in his eyes that Milly recognised, she took a hasty step away from him. "But you need my help," he said with indignant outrage. "The future success of your business depends on what happens in the next few months."

  Milly walked quickly to the door of the drawing room and clutched the handle.

  "It is regrettable indeed, sir, but I will not work with someone who insults either my friends or myself. If my husband came to hear of what had passed within this room you might worry less about your job and more about your skin. Goodbye, Mr Priestly."

  She opened the door and called to Rexom.

  "Rexom, Mr Priestly is leaving immediately, please make sure he makes it to his carriage with no difficulty." There was no ambiguity in the froider of her words and Rexom lost no time in summoning three footmen to ensure her guest left as he was bid.

  Mr Priestly stood staring at Milly with such loathing that she felt fear prickle down her back. He stepped closer to her, his voice low and full of hatred.

  "You'll get everything you deserve. You're no better than that whore you call your friend."

  Milly stared back at him and showed no reaction to his vile words, instead squaring her shoulders with defiance. This was not Mr Brownlow and she was no longer alone and helpless.

  "Get out of my house before you are thrown out," she said, her tone cold.

  "Don't worry on that score, Madame," he said, omitting to use her title and infusing his words with obvious scorn. "I have no wish to stay a moment longer."

  Milly watched as the footmen escorted him to his carriage and turned to Rexom as he approached her, his eyes full of concern.

  "Should I fetch Lord Ware, your Grace?" he asked, obviously hoping she would agree.

  "No, Rexom, thank you. I am quite alright. I'm sure I don't need to ask you not to let that man into the house again please."

  "Certainly not, Madame. He will be run off of the property if he dares to show his face."

  She could see the curiosity in the old man's eyes and knew he was dying to ask what had happened and who the man was.

  "Mr Priestly was a business associate, Rexom," she said, to put his mind at ease. "And I have dismissed him as he did not suit the job. I promise you I will explain everything to his Grace in good time so you need not look so torn. However, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention anything to him for the time being."

  Rexom still looked ill at ease but he was too well trained to argue the point.

  "As you wish, Madame."

  Milly went back into the parlour and sat down, breathing deeply to still her thundering heart. She had been unprepared for such a scene and her confidence had been rather shaken. How had she been so taken in by Mr Priestly? That she had misjudged him so was shocking to her. But then, if she thought about it perhaps she'd been naive. Many apparently educated and outwardly kind men would judge both Dollie and Beau on appearances and draw the same conclusions. It was only those who bothered to look closer, those with an open mind, who could see past all of those prejudices.

  Beau wouldn't judge Dollie so harshly she was sure. Though she wasn't looking forward to admitting that the woman was her business partner. He wouldn't like that at all. But not because of Dollie. Simply because of how the rest of the ton would regard that friendship. It could destroy her reputation and he knew that. In fact if word of it got about, it could do them both a great deal of damage. The idea that Mr Priestly had that information made a shiver of unease crawl down her spine.

  Well she'd just have to cross that bridge when she got to it. The first thing was to meet with Dollie and go to the premises. A new manager would need to be found as quickly as possible.

  They were returning to London that evening and she had been more than relieved that it was Beau who had suggested it. He had a meeting with Turnbull and an associate who could supply the young watercress plants. Milly smiled as she remembered Beau's enthusiasm for the project. It was wonderful to see him so inspired and looking forward to the future instead of weighed down by the past.

  She let out a breath and smiled to herself. Everything would be fine. She would arrange for Beau to meet her at the premises and explain everything. Perhaps he would be angry with her at first, but she trusted him not to be unreasonable about it. He would see that her idea was sound and that she had a successful business. It would all work out. She was sure of it.

  ***

  Beau scowled as he rode past the carriage that was clearly returning from Greythorpe. Mr Priestly's glowering countenan
ce was only too easy to recognise. He felt a shock of jealousy bloom in his chest, so fierce that it quite unsettled him. His horse sidled beneath him, perhaps aware of the sudden tension thrumming through his body.

  What the devil had that bastard been doing at the house?

  Beau took a breath and forced himself to use his brain before he ran off half cocked and made a bloody mess of everything by throwing accusations about. Milly would never betray him. He was certain of it. So perhaps Mr Priestly had come to make advances to his wife and she'd sent him off with a flea in his ear. It would certainly explain the furious look on the man's face as he left. Well if that was the case Mr Priestly would need dealing with, and soon. Determined to discover what exactly was going on he urged his horse into a canter and made his way back to the house.

  "I see we've had a visitor," he said, as he walked into the great hall and handed Rexom his hat and gloves. He studied the old man as Rexom hesitated. Well damn, she'd asked him not to mention it. A slither of unease moved under his skin. "I know it was a certain Mr Priestly, Rexom," he said, staring at his butler. "What happened?"

  Rexom cleared his throat and held his gaze. "Lady Ware asked for the gentleman to be removed from the premises, your Grace. I believe she did not wish to concern you with it. If I may say so, she handled the matter with great dignity."

  Beau gave the old man a grim smile. "I don't doubt it, but what in the name of God did the man do? I'll kill him if he's upset her in any way. Where is she now?"

  Rexom indicated that she was in his study and his boots rang out, echoing across the hall as he crossed the cold marble floor.

  Milly looked up at him as he walked through the door and he was relieved by the warm look in her eyes.

  "Hello, little bird," he said, watching as she got to her feet and went to him. "What have you been doing?" he asked as he took in the boxes of books and her dusty dress and pulled her into his arms.

  "Packing your father's books away," she said, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.