Winning the Mail-order Bride & Pursued for the Viscount's Vengeance & Redeeming the Rogue Knight (9781488021725)

by Robinson, Lauri; Mallory, Sarah; Hobbes, Elisabeth

  ‘No, I had not noticed,’ replied Deb. ‘I thought the reason for wearing a domino was to be incognito. The gentleman is most likely listening to the orchestra and not interested in us at all.’

  Her neighbour was in no wise discomposed by this damping response.

  ‘Well, if that is what he wants then he should not wear such a deep colour, it positively reeks of extravagance! I dare say you are probably not so accustomed to being ogled in this manner. I have been pursued by such creatures for years and it is no different now I am married, either. Quite forward they can be, some of these gentlemen!’

  Deb pursed her lips in distaste, but instead of reading it as a sign of disapproval Mrs Wortleby took it as envy and gave a trill of laughter.

  ‘There is no reason why it shouldn’t be the same for you, my dear. There are beaux aplenty to go around. Of course, on a night like this, when everyone is masked and all our finery hidden beneath a domino, it can be more difficult, but if one uncovers one’s head, the mask is very little disguise. Here, let me help you.’

  She reached across and twitched Deb’s hood back.

  ‘There, you see?’ She sighed. ‘It is a pity that you dress your hair so plainly, for you do not do yourself justice, my dear. And the colour, it is such a nondescript brown. But that need not be a problem, these days, you know. I use a mixture of tree barks and roots for mine, but most likely you would prefer to make it fairer and more like his lordship—La, but it is a sin that your brother has such flaxen locks while you have ended up with mouse, but there it is! I have a friend who uses a very efficacious mix. St John’s wort, saffron, celandine roots and I do not know what else, but I would be only too pleased to beg the receipt from her if you would care to try it.’

  Deborah declined with a smile and was thankful when the lady’s husband caused a diversion by enquiring what time they would be having supper.

  ‘It will be served at ten o’clock,’ Sir Sydney informed them.

  ‘Oh, capital!’ cried Mrs Wortleby, clapping her hands in delight. ‘That will give us time to see the cascade, which is unveiled at nine, is that not so, Sir Sydney?’

  ‘It is indeed, ma’am, as you say.’

  Deborah had heard much about this spectacle, which the advertisements declared gave the illusion of a working mill with real running water, so natural that audiences were amazed at its genius. She thought the mechanical aspect of it might appeal to Randolph, too, but although he had agreed to accompany her, she noted with alarm that he was sinking deeper into gloom and when at length Mr Wortleby declared that they were going off to find the cascade, Randolph told his sister morosely that he would wait for her in the supper box.

  ‘But, Ran, you promised to come with me!’

  ‘Perhaps, Miss Meltham, you will allow me to escort you?’

  Sir Sydney was standing up and offering her his hand. Deborah cast a last despairing glance at Ran, who hunched even lower over his glass.

  ‘There you are, Deb, Warslow will take you. Off you go now.’

  Deborah bit her lip in silent frustration as she pulled her hood up over her hair. She accepted Sir Sydney’s escort, but not his arm, and they set off after the others. It was clear that a large number of people were intent on seeing the spectacle, for the crowds grew considerably thicker as they approached the cascade and Deborah soon lost sight of the Wortlebys. She was obliged to remain close to Sir Sydney who, to his credit, managed to secure a place near the front of the crowd, where Deborah had a clear view when the curtain was drawn up.

  People were still jostling for places behind Deborah, but she barely noticed, entranced by the spectacle. It was a pretty country scene of a miller’s house and a water mill complete with turning wheel and what appeared to be a waterfall cascading down, the water then foaming around the wheel before gliding away. She was well aware that it was all done with metal sheets, turning screws and clever lights, but the noise and the effect drew gasps of admiration from the crowd.

  She turned to remark on it to her escort, but found they had been separated by the pushing crowds. At that moment, someone caught her hand and a deep voice murmured close to her ear, ‘Come.’

  Her head snapped back, but only in time to see the back of a purple domino. The man was holding her hand in a vice-like grip and he began to lead her away through the crowd. She said nothing as she squeezed her way between the crush of bodies, but when at last they were free of the press of people and he pulled her into a secluded walk she begged him to stop. The suspicion that had started to grow as the tall figure half-dragged her out of the throng was making her heart drum heavily against her ribs. As soon as he halted she stepped in front of him and pushed back his hood, revealing the thin strip of black silk covering his eyes, and beneath it, running down his cheek, the thin line of a scar.

  ‘Lord Gilmorton. It is you!’

  Deborah could not prevent the smile curving her lips. She should hate him, but all she felt now was indescribable relief. His eyes glittered through the slits in his mask and her thoughts tumbled out into speech before she could stop them. ‘I was afraid you had washed your hands of me.’

  ‘You think me so fickle?’

  His growled words sent a delicious tingle running down Deb’s spine and she had to fight against the temptation to lean against him and draw comfort from his presence. Instead she quickly drew away from him, knowing her defences were close to collapse. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she must be strong. She did not want to give him any more cause to pity her.

  And yet. She had only to gaze into those slate-grey eyes, look at the curve of that sensuous mouth and she forgot everything save how much she wanted him. It shocked her. He had lied to her, tricked her, but her body reacted strongly to his presence, the tug of attraction so great it made her feel weak, breathless.

  ‘I have been in Liverpool,’ he said, his voice deep and low, wrapping around her like a soft woollen blanket. ‘When I finished my investigations there I came directly to town. To see you.’

  To see her! Deb knew she must not read too much into that. She was in danger of succumbing to his charms all over again. Steeling herself, she dragged her eyes away from him, trying to speak rationally.

  ‘How did you know we would be here?’

  ‘Ever since you sent me your direction I have had your house watched. From your letter, I inferred that it might not be safe to write to you, so I thought it better to come and meet you.’

  He took her arm and led her to a shadowed arbour a little way along the path, where he invited her to sit down with him. They stayed very close, so that anyone seeing them would think it was a lovers’ tryst. Just the thought of that made Deborah want to cry, but she resolutely turned her mind to more practical problems.

  ‘And what have you discovered, my lord? Have you learned anything that would prove my brother innocent?’

  ‘I am afraid not, but I do think that your suspicions were correct and that Warslow is in some way involved in a counterfeiting scheme. But all I have so far is conjecture, based upon what I know of the fellow and his connections in Liverpool. I learned that counterfeit notes have been passed there and that has attracted the attentions of the Bank of England inspectors. I am sure Warslow is involved, but I cannot yet prove it.’

  Deborah gave a little gasp of dismay. ‘Then the bad note in Fallbridge was not a coincidence.’

  ‘No, I do not think it was.’ He reached for her hands and she snatched them out of the way, as if his touch might burn her. It was too dark to see his face clearly, but she thought she heard a faint sigh before he continued. ‘Releasing the note in Fallbridge was, I believe, a mistake. In such a small place, it was always likely that whoever passed it on might be discovered. In London tracing such notes would be much more difficult.’

  ‘And that is why he has persuaded Ran to come to town.’

/>   He said urgently, ‘Warslow is playing a dangerous game and you will be tainted by association. You should leave London. Go back to Fallbridge, you will be safer there.

  ‘No. I must stay. As long as Ran needs me.’ She sought wildly for some crumb of comfort, ‘You say you have no real proof. Perhaps we are both wrong and Sir Sydney is not involved in any illegal dealings.’

  ‘I wish it were so, but we are not the only ones who are suspicious. A Bank inspector was already making enquiries at your house in Liverpool when I was there.’

  ‘You went to Duke Street?’

  ‘I wanted to see where you had lived.’ He stopped, pulling back a little as if he had not intended to say that. He continued gruffly. ‘Where your brother had lived. It was necessary to discover what I could about his activities in the town and his connection with Warslow.’

  ‘Of course.’ The sudden rise in her spirits was immediately halted. It was foolish to think he had any interest in her. Save pity. Only pity.

  ‘The Bank’s people are very tenacious,’ he warned her. ‘They will show no mercy if they find your brother is involved in forging banknotes.’

  ‘But nothing like that took place in Duke Street!’

  ‘Possibly not, but I fear they may seek out your brother here, in London.’

  ‘And if any notes are traced to Grafton Street, it is Ran’s name on the lease,’ she muttered. ‘It is Ran who employs the staff, even though Sir Sydney took care of all the arrangements.’

  ‘Did he now?’

  She nodded. ‘He hired the staff and I have ascertained that they are all recently come to London, with no family or friends that they might gossip with. The exception is the Enfields, who appear to know Sir Sydney well. They act as butler and housekeeper, but I do not trust them, and I do not think they were ever in service before. From something Mrs Enfield said I think her husband was in the army.’

  ‘And if we dig a little into his past I have no doubt we will discover that he was under Warslow’s command,’ Gil muttered. ‘And that possibly goes for some of the other servants, too. You must be very careful.’

  ‘Thankfully I have my maid and Miller, my brother’s valet. I confess I should not be happy there without them.’

  ‘You should not be staying in that house at all!’ he exclaimed. ‘Deborah, I—’

  In her dreams she heard him calling her name, but now the sound of it upon his lips brought only shaming memories of the night he had taken her to his bed out of compassion.

  She put up her hand, saying in a tight little voice. ‘You will call me Miss Meltham, if you please. As befits mere acquaintances.’

  He jerked away as if she had slapped him and almost immediately he rose from the bench.

  ‘I should take you back to your friends.’

  Had she offended him, would he walk away from her now, leave her and Randolph to their fate? She tried to read his expression as she stood up beside him, but the shadows were too deep. However, his next words were perfectly calm, if not encouraging.

  ‘I have not yet found a way to extricate your brother from this coil, nor, I must tell you, anything that convinces me he is as innocent as you think him to be.’

  ‘As I know him to be,’ she said with some vehemence.

  He inclined his head politely. He did not believe her, she thought, her heart sinking. But that did not matter, as long as he was prepared to help.

  ‘That is why I needed to speak to you,’ he continued, ‘to discover if you have seen or heard anything untoward.’

  He indicated that they should walk along the path and she fell into step beside him, thankful that she could turn her thoughts to more practical matters.

  ‘Sir Sydney spends a great deal of time in Grafton Street,’ she said slowly. ‘But he is mostly with my brother in his study. I have come upon him talking to Enfield on several occasions, but I have heard nothing one could call suspicious.’

  ‘Warslow has taken up residence with you?’

  ‘No, he does not live with us all the time. Ran insists a room is kept in readiness for him, but he has a lodging nearby.’ She clasped her hands tightly before her. ‘I think he is keeping a distance. I think, if charges were to be brought against Randolph, Sir Sydney would plead ignorance of it all.’

  ‘Very likely. Your brother provides a convenient front for him.’

  ‘And more than that,’ she added. ‘I believe he is using Randolph to gain entrée into more wealthy society. Not the haut ton, but those scrambling for gentility.’ She could not help a little huff of distaste. ‘Types Ran would once have described as toadying mushrooms.’

  ‘Such as the couple sharing your supper box?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘They are overjoyed to be going about in the company of a lord, even if my brother is merely a baron. Consequently they are very free with their money. But I do not understand, that may gain Sir Sydney new acquaintances, perhaps there will be new people he may impose upon, but it is not unlawful.’

  ‘But as you say they are wealthy and I don’t doubt some of them are in trade. They would accept Warslow as a gentleman, giving him the opportunity to spread his forged notes without suspicion.’

  ‘And the chance to ruin their lives…’ Deborah sighed ‘…as he is doing to my poor brother!’

  His breath hissed out. ‘Perhaps I should force a quarrel upon Warslow and make an end of him.’

  ‘But you said he is a crack shot.’ She shuddered at the thought.

  ‘So, too, am I considered a deadly opponent.’

  She clutched his arm, saying impulsively, ‘I pray you will not do anything so dangerous.’

  He turned his head. ‘Afraid for me, Miss Meltham?’

  Quickly she removed her hand. She dared not look into his face, but she was sure there was a trace of laughter in his voice. How dare he tease her. Not for the world would she have him think she cared a jot!

  ‘Not at all,’ she said crossly. ‘I should be delighted if you were to kill each other. But if he has embroiled Randolph in his horrid schemes it might leave my brother in even more danger.’

  ‘Quite so, ma’am. I shall therefore continue to make enquiries and keep you informed of my progress.’

  ‘But how will you do that? I dare not ask you to send a note to the house save in the direst emergency. You might leave word at the post office, which is situated at the local apothecary’s.’

  ‘But would it not arouse suspicion for you to be visiting his shop every day?’ he replied. ‘I have a better idea, ma’am. You are but a step from Green Park; I am convinced a daily walk between the reservoir and the Lodge would be of benefit to you.’

  ‘Why, yes,’ she said, almost smiling in spite of the heaviness in her heart. ‘I shall endeavour to do so after breakfast each morning. Or to send Elsie on an errand in that direction.’

  Deborah could now see the lights from the promenade and the supper boxes ahead of them and she stopped.

  ‘We should part here, in the shadows. I do not want anyone to see us together and become suspicious.’

  * * *

  Gil halted beside her, reluctant to bring the encounter to an end, but knowing it must be so.

  ‘Very true.’

  He reached out to pull the hood of her domino a little further forward over her head. It was not really necessary, but it was the nearest he could come to touching her.

  ‘Off you go then,’ he said. ‘I have people watching Grafton Street day and night. If you discover anything you may send a message to the Running Man tavern just around the corner, addressed to John Harris.’ He added softly, ‘Send word there, too, if you need me. I will come for you.’

  She did not move. Her face was turned up towards him and through the slits of her mask her eyes shone in the dim lamplight, glittering like emeralds.
Did she, too, feel the pull of attraction? Was she even aware that her lips were slightly parted, inviting his kiss? No, she hated him and with good reason. Biting back his own desires, he reached out and turned her away from him.

  ‘Go,’ he said roughly. ‘Your party will be growing anxious for you.’ Beneath the cloth, the bones of her shoulders felt as delicate and fragile as porcelain, arousing every protective instinct within him and for a moment his fingers tightened their grip. ‘Be careful, Deborah.’

  Her hand came out, but whether it was to touch him, or in that gesture she used when she was nervous, reminding herself of her scars, he dared not wait to discover. Using every ounce of will power he released her and turned away, striding back into the shadows without another look.

  * * *

  Randolph and the rest of the party were in the supper box. Deborah compelled her unwilling feet to carry her towards them, but added to the leaden weight of her brother’s predicament was her own desperate unhappiness. Seeing Gil again had brought back all the pain of his treachery. He had deliberately sought her out and courted her until she fell in love with him and he was only helping her now because he had wronged her.

  She was an obligation, she thought miserably, a debt of honour he needed to pay before he could forget her. In other circumstances she would rather die than accept anything from this man, but she needed him. She had neither the wealth nor the influence to save Randolph and Gil had both. Reminding herself of this, Deborah walked towards the supper box, schooling her face into a look of unconcern.

  Sir Sydney looked up and saw her approaching and soon they were all exclaiming with relief that she had returned. As she murmured reassurances that she was perfectly safe and had merely got lost in the crowds, her wayward thoughts returned to her meeting with Gil. She could not forget the memory of his hands on her shoulders, the reassuring strength of his arm when she had clutched at it. His words, that were burned into her heart.