He promptly wiped his hand off on his pants and she grabbed a clean handkerchief.
“So tell me, Henry,” she said in as casual a manner as she could muster while wiping off her hand. “Have you and any of the other boys ever slipped out of the house at night to go to the pier?”
He was silent for a long moment, obviously considering his answer and whether or not this was some kind of trick on his aunt’s part.
“No.” He drew the word out slowly.
She arched a brow.
“We’ve only been here for a few days,” he muttered.
“Yes, of course.” She waved off his comment. “And anything that might have happened last year—”
“Or the year before?”
She nodded. “Would have no bearing on this year. Why it simply wouldn’t be significant.”
“What’s done is done?” he said hopefully.
“Absolutely,” she said firmly. “Nothing need be said about past misdeeds.”
“It would be unfair to do so.”
“Most unfair.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “I know I would never hold a man’s past transgressions against him.”
He studied her for a moment then shrugged. “We might have.”
“Then if indeed you had, which neither of us is saying, but if you might have, then you might have made it there and back as well without either discovery or incident?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you do it again?”
Henry snorted as if the answer was obvious.
Cordelia smiled in a manner every bit as wicked as her nephew’s. “I have a proposition for you, Henry.”
If she didn’t get married perhaps she could have a successful career as a burglar or jewel thief. Although, Cordelia acknowledged, it was probably far easier to escape from a house than to break into one. Just as she had thought, she’d had no problem slipping out of the house. Sarah was fast asleep and neither Cordelia’s mother nor her sisters had so much as looked askance at her when she’d announced she was retiring for the evening. Even if one still lived under ones parents’ roof at the advanced age of twenty-five, there were certain benefits to age.
Now Cordelia waited impatiently outside the back gate for her escort. Where was Henry? If you couldn’t count on a fellow conspirator to be prompt, who could you count on?
“Aunt Cordy?” Henry’s voice sounded from the shadows. “Are you ready?”
“Ready and waiting,” she said sharply. “Don’t call me Cordy. Now then, shall we—”
“Bit of a change in plans,” Henry said even as the shadows behind him stepped forward and solidified into the figures of Thomas, Edward, and Philip.
“Good Lord,” she murmured.
“They caught me and I didn’t have a choice but to take them along,” Henry said quickly. “It’s an adventure you see.”
“We won’t be a bit of trouble,” Philip said.
Edward nodded. “It’s not like we haven’t—” His older brother jabbed him with his elbow. “Ouch.”
“Besides,” Thomas said. “Friday belongs to all of us.”
“Well?” Henry asked.
Cordelia considered the rather scruffy group arrayed before her. They were dressed in clothes that had seen better days and would therefore attract no attention whatsoever. Dear Lord, the boys were probably more skilled at this sort of thing than she was. At nearly twelve, Henry was the oldest followed by Thomas, also aged eleven, Edward and Philip both ten. She wondered if her sisters, who had been so gleeful at having sons so close in age, realized what a force of nature they had created. Cordelia really had no choice. If she canceled this adventure altogether or insisted on just taking Henry, she had no doubt concerns about Friday would not be nearly enough to keep the mouths of the other boys closed. Inevitably the truth would come out, all of it. Not merely that she was sneaking out of the house but that she was meeting a gentleman, who that man was, and who she had told him she was. Add to that the charge of using her poor innocent nephews to further her own nefarious activities and…she had no idea what the consequences might be, but they would not be good.
“As I have little choice.” She gritted her teeth. “These are the conditions under which I will allow you to accompany me. One.” She met Henry’s gaze. “You all stay right be my side on the way to the pier. Two.” Her gaze slid to Thomas. “There will be no wandering off, no dashing about in different directions. Three.” She looked firmly into Edward’s eyes. “The moment I am at the pier the four of you are to return directly home. No loitering, no dallying, no distractions. And four.” She stared at Philip. “When I return I shall check your room. If you are not all in your beds,” she narrowed her eyes, “there will be severe consequences, the repercussions of which even I would prefer not to consider. Do not cross me, boys. Do you understand? All of you?”
The boys exchanged glances then nodded.
“And I have your word?”
Almost as one, the boys spit in their hands and held them out to her.
“No, no,” she said quickly. “We shall forgo the ceremonial shaking of hands and consider it agreed nonetheless.”
“She’s a girl,” Edward said in an aside to Philip while wiping his hand on his pants, as if no more explanation for her lack of a sense of tradition need be said.
“A cranky girl,” Thomas muttered.
“And scary.” Philip eyed her with obvious suspicion.
“You have no idea just how scary I can be.” Cordelia nodded. “Let’s go.”
They started off in as sedate a manner as she could have hoped for and within minutes approached the festive crowd gathered near the pier. Lanterns were strung, laughter and music filled the air. All in all it was a fine summer night to stroll or dance or simply converse. Vendors and merchants had long ago realized there was a profit to be made by luring tourists to the Chain Pier at night by the prospect of fireworks, food, and other amusements. At the edge of the crowd she spotted Warren, who was obviously watching for her, and waved. He waved back and started toward them. She turned to the boys. “Thank you all. I do appreciate your company. Now, please return home at once.”
“We didn’t know you were meeting a gentleman,” Thomas said.
“We think that makes this a whole different kettle of fish,” Philip said with a smug smile.
“You think that, do you?” she said cautiously.
Henry grinned. “And we think it’s worth more than a mere toad.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll give you each a shilling.”
“Two,” Edward said.
“Four,” Henry amended. “Each.”
“Very well.” She gritted her teeth. Once again, they had given her no choice. “I shall pay you tomorrow. And only if you abide by the rest of my conditions.” She nodded toward the direction in which they’d come. “Now go.”
They took off in a far more exuberant manner than that with which they’d accompanied her. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned to greet Warren.
“Miss Palmer.” He took her hands and gazed into her eyes. “My apologies. I was starting toward your house to meet you, but I was very much afraid you wouldn’t come.”
Her breath caught at the look in his eye. “Why wouldn’t I come?”
“You had said seeing me again would be a dreadful mistake.” He chuckled. “I was afraid you had come to your senses.”
She smiled up at him. “I’m afraid I haven’t.”
“Good.”
It was a simple word, nothing the least bit eloquent or exceptional about it. And yet it was quite the most exciting thing she’d ever heard. “I can’t stay long.”
He held out his arm. “Then shall we join the crowd and listen to the music?”
“That would be delightful.” She took his arm and they meandered toward the pier. “And we should probably talk about Lady Cordelia and Mr. Sinclair as well.”
“No, not tonight.” He put his hand over hers and looked down at her. “I’d rather talk about
anything but Lady Cordelia and Mr. Sinclair.”
“Very well then.” She thought for a moment. Just today she was considering all the things she didn’t know about Warren and yet, at this moment, it was enough merely to walk by his side, arm in arm, with his hand still improperly over hers. “Do you enjoy travel, Mr. Lewis?”
“I’m not sure I enjoy it although admittedly getting to a destination is often half the fun of it.” He thought for a moment. “I can’t say I’ve traveled extensively, most of it has been predicated on business, but I’ve been to Italy and I did like it a great deal. There are any number of places in the world I would like to see.”
“You should make a list,” she said primly.
He laughed. “Is that advice Lady Cordelia gives to travelers?”
“Indeed it is. It makes a great deal of sense.” She shook her head. “But one has to act on one’s list, of course. I think it would be dreadful to get to the end of one’s life and still have places one wished to see but never managed to visit.”
“I imagine you’ve traveled quite a lot with Lady Cordelia.”
“I’ve been extremely fortunate. I’ve seen the Pyramids and the Coliseum and the ancient ruins of Greece.”
He glanced at her. “Do you have a favorite?”
She laughed. “Not yet but there is still a considerable amount of the world I have yet to see. Although, I daresay, my days of travel and adventure are at an end.”
“Why?”
“Why?” She stared at him. Blast it all, it was exceptionally difficult to pretend to be someone else and watch every word you said. “When Lady Cordelia marries, of course, my days of travel will end. As will hers, I suspect. Unless Mr. Sinclair enjoys travel as she does.”
“I’m afraid he sees it as more of a necessity than an adventure,” Warren said with a shake of his head. “If you did continue to travel, where would you like to go?”
“I should like to see South America. The Amazon. Fields of orchids in Columbia. I would like to see the West Indies and the jungles of Africa.” She thought for a moment. “And China.”
He chuckled. “You have a list then?”
“Of course.”
“Is Baltimore on it?”
“No, but America is.”
“You should add Baltimore,” he said firmly.
“Perhaps I will,” she murmured. Dear Lord, what was she doing? With every word, she was digging a deeper hole for herself. She needed to bring this particular adventure to an end, regardless of whether she wanted to or not. She drew a deep breath. “Mr. Lewis—”
“Miss Palmer—” he said at the same time, then laughed. “Do go on.”
“No,” she said with a distinct sense of reprieve. “I’ve been talking entirely too much. Please, what were you going to say?”
“Well.” He paused to choose his words. “We’re leaving Brighton tomorrow. We’re returning to London on the morning train.”
“I see.” She wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Putting distance between them was an excellent idea. Indeed, hadn’t she just been about to tell him she couldn’t see him again? Besides, she still hadn’t decided what she was going to do about Mr. Sinclair. Even she could see she was using Warren as an excuse to postpone her decision. It couldn’t possibly be anything more significant than that. “Well then—”
“When will you be returning to London?”
“Me?” She shook her head. “Not for a few more weeks.”
“Perhaps I should come back to Brighton then.”
“That would be…lovely,” she said with a weak smile, then drew a deep breath. “There is another matter, however, that we really should talk about—”
Shouts drew his attention and he craned his neck to see around her. “What is going on over there?”
“Where?” She turned and searched the crowd.
A large, extremely annoyed man held a struggling boy by the scruff of his neck. Several other boys were trying to free him.
“Dear God.” She gasped. “That’s my—er—Lady Cordelia’s nephew!”
“What’s he doing out at this time of night?”
“He and his cousins escorted me here, but they were supposed to go straight home.” She grabbed his arm. “Warren, can—”
“Of course.” Warren set his jaw and moved swiftly through the crowd. Cordelia hurried after him.
“Unhand the boy,” Warren said in a commanding voice and a manner to match. He towered over the other man who nonetheless did not back down.
“I caught this little bugger trying to pick my pocket.” The man lessened his hold on Philip but did not release him.
“I didn’t!” Philip’s frantic gaze met hers and she had no doubt as to the veracity of his statement. The child jerked his head toward a point off to one side. “I swear, it was them.”
She followed his gaze to a group of laughing boys even more disreputable in appearance than her nephews. They immediately noticed the attention and melted into the crowd.
“Are you sure this was the boy?” Warren fairly growled the words. It was most impressive.
“Maybe not,” the man muttered and released Philip. “But if I see the little beggars again, I shall report them to the authorities.”
“See that you do.” Cordelia cast a scathing glare at her nephews.
“Miss Palmer, take the boys and start back to the house. I’ll handle this.” Warren gave Philip an encouraging smile then steered the child toward her, and turned back to the man.
“She’s not—” Edward started. Henry jabbed him again. “Ouch. Stop doing that.”
“Come along,” Cordelia ordered. The boys surrounded her and they started off. When they were out of range of Warren’s hearing, she glared at them. “You were supposed to go home.”
Edward stared at her. “He called you Miss Palmer.”
“He thinks you’re Sarah, doesn’t he?” Henry studied her with far more perception than any child had a right to have.
“You misheard,” she said quickly.
“I didn’t,” Thomas said. “He said it plain as day. ‘Miss Palmer—’”
“That’s enough,” she snapped. “We’re going home right this minute. And if any of you so much as stray a step out of line, I shall tell your mothers all about this little adventure of yours.”
“No, you won’t,” Henry said confidently. “That would force us to tell your mother.”
“We wouldn’t want to.” Philip shook his head in a regretful manner.
“But we would have no choice,” Edward added.
She stopped and stared at the boys. “What do you want?”
They traded glances. Henry smirked. “A whole pound, for each of us.”
“Plus, the four shillings,” Philip added.
Dear Lord, they were pirates. “You’re clever little beasts, aren’t you?”
Thomas angled his head and peered around her. “He’s coming. You’d better decide.”
“As if I have a choice. But I shall not pay you until tomorrow.” She gritted her teeth. “Now, I want you to walk ten paces in front of us and head directly home. If one of you strays from my sight for so much as a moment, the bargain is off. I shall take my chances with my mother and leave you all to your own fates with yours.”
They nodded almost as one and headed off, a scant moment before Warren joined her.
“What happened?” She gazed up at him.
“I gave him a few coins and he agreed he was mistaken.” Warren took her arm and they started after the boys. “That’s certainly a group to be reckoned with.”
“Bandits are what they are,” she said through clenched teeth. “Pirates.”
He laughed. “They’re not that bad. Just mischievous, that’s all.”
“That’s scarcely all,” she muttered then sighed. “You were very kind to him.”
Warren smiled.
“Are you always this kind to children?”
“And small dogs as well.”
She laughed in spite
of herself. “Mr. Lewis.” She paused. “Warren.”
“Yes?”
“I am most appreciative of your help. You have my undying gratitude.”
“I like having you in my debt.” He chuckled then sobered. “But it seems to me this was my fault entirely.”
“How was it your fault? I never should have brought them with me.”
In the dark, she could barely make out the boys ahead reaching the garden gate and slipping inside. Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief.
“I should have met you outside the house and escorted you myself. Or.” He paused for a moment. “I should have called on you properly at the door.”
“No need for that. Besides, what’s done is done,” she said quickly, hoping to change the subject. They reached the gate and she turned to him. “Thank you again, Mr. Lewis. I don’t know what I would have—”
“Miss Palmer. Sarah.” He placed his knuckle under her chin, tilted her head up toward his and leaned closer. “I have a confession to make to you.”
“A confession isn’t at all necessary,” she said in a weak voice. Her heart pounded in her chest.
“Oh, but it is.” His lips brushed against hers. “I would very much like to call on you properly.”
She swallowed hard. “You would?”
“I would.” His lips murmured against hers. “When I return from London—”
“We’re going to London,” she said without thinking and immediately wished she could take the words back.
“You are?” He straightened slightly. “I thought you said you would remain in Brighton for the month?”
“I did but I…I forgot.” Forgot what? “Lady Cordelia needs to meet with a publisher who is interested in her book. Yes, that’s it.”
“I see.” He chuckled softly and dropped his hand. “Then I shall see you in London.”
“Yes, well, perhaps.” Her voice had an annoying breathless quality. She turned and grabbed the gate handle.
“Miss Palmer,” he said softly behind her. Her hand paused on the handle. “There is no ‘perhaps’ about it.”
Even as she turned toward him she knew this was a dreadful mistake, but Cordelia had always had a problem when it came to resisting temptation. “Mr. Lewis.”
Secrets of a Proper Lady Page 11
