“Struan,” Calum Innes said in a tone resembling thunder.
“Quite,” Viscount Hunsingore said gruffly.
“A farmer?” Pippa asked, grateful for any respite from trying to explain what she was doing in a peasant’s cloak and driving an ancient cart loaded with household castoffs.
“You cannot help, Pippa,” Calum said, and despite the enormity of the situation, she smiled at the sound of her name on his lips.
“It would appear,” Viscount Hunsingore said, “that we are not alone in having a small matter that might require, shall we say, extraordinary tact?”
Pippa stared grimly ahead.
“The lady’s affairs are her own,” Calum Innes said. “Just as yours are your own.”
“Gallant of you,” Hunsingore said in dulcet tones. “But hardly practical, old man. I’d say the lady will be asking for our—er—discretion about activities that call upon her to move about in disguise. Am I correct, Lady Philipa?”
“Struan—”
“Quite correct, my lord,” Pippa said, interrupting Calum. She drove around a wide, arching bend and began the descent to the road. “My situation is not particularly interesting to anyone but me. However, I should prefer that no attention be drawn to a little diversion that brings me pleasure.” “What kind of diversion?” Calum asked promptly.
Pippa frowned. “Really, you are very direct, sir. And you are very inappropriate…” She closed her mouth. If she made too much of this, the result might be exactly what she did not want. “Very well, I will tell you. At my home in Yorkshire—Dowanhill—I was always accustomed to spending time in solitude. My father expected me to entertain myself. I always—”
“Admired him for that?” Calum suggested.
“Oh, yes,” Pippa said. “What a bother it would have been to be fussed over. Anyway, I developed a fondness for nature and was fortunate enough to have the use of a small place on a distant corner of the estate where I could enjoy my surroundings and…” How silly it sounded.
Neither of the men commented.
“There is a similar situation here at Cloudsmoor. A hunting cabin. I do think it’s important for every soul to have time to reflect peaceably, don’t you?”
After a pause, both men mumbled unintelligibly.
“I knew you would agree. The cabin was abandoned many years ago. I found it during a summer holiday here. Today I took a few things there to make it more—habitable.” Ooh, she sounded light-brained.
“Good idea, I should think,” Calum said. “Shouldn’t you, Struan?”
“Indubitably,” Struan agreed. “So why are you bringing the jun—Why are you bringing the things back?” He’d been about to call the things she’d assembled “junk.”
“I am returning what I don’t need,” she told him, tilting her nose up a little. “There are others who will find good use for them. I abhor waste. My father taught me to do so and I always—”
“Admired him for it,” Calum finished for her in a monotone.
“Yes.” Really, it seemed that Calum frequently finished sentences she’d begun. A potentially annoying habit. She kept her eyes on the path and said, “It would be very inconvenient if you were to mention seeing me today. Here, that is. In these circumstances…that is…”
“Consider the episode forgotten,” Calum said promptly.
“Thank you. I—”
“We also have a delicate situation on our hands,” the viscount said rapidly. “One you might possibly—”
“Lady Philipa cannot have been in the area more than a few days,” Calum interrupted.
“You’ve just heard her say she knows the area well,” Struan argued. “Surely she might—”
“She cannot possibly help us. And you need never fear that we will mention our meeting today, Pippa.”
“There are two young people in our coach,” Viscount Hunsingore said, rushing out the words. “A fifteen-year-old girl and her ten-year-old brother.”
“Oh, my God!” Calum said.
Pippa glanced down at the top of his thick dark hair where he rested his head in his hands. She said, “Do go on, my lord.” This promised to be a fascinating story.
“Ella—that is the girl—was in a—”
“No!” Calum roared, raising a face slashed with red across high cheekbones. “Do not say that word in front of this lady.”
“In a what?” Pippa kept her attention on the track with difficulty.
“A, er”— the viscount cleared his throat —“an inappropriate establishment for one so young. For anyone, in fact. But particularly for a gentle young female such as Ella.”
Pippa could not imagine what kind of establishment Viscount Hunsingore referred to, but from Calum’s tone, it would appear to be quite terrible and unmentionable.
“I’ll deal with this,” Calum said. “Do you know of a childless family who might consider taking in two young people?”
How could she? Despite the fact that she knew the countryside quite well, she was all but a stranger to the tenants of both the Franchot and the Chauncey estates. “No,” she said slowly. “There is a housekeeper at Cloudsmoor. And some casual staff. And the gardeners, of course. But we haven’t actually stayed there in some years, and I don’t really know anyone. But—”
“Of course you don’t,” Calum cut in, sounding almost relieved. “That’s that, then. Don’t give it another thought.”
“Someone had bloody well better give it some thought.”
At the viscount’s profanity, Pippa sat very straight and hid a smile.
“Watch your tongue, man,” Calum said predictably.
“Look,” Viscount Hunsingore said, “this is my affair, but I’m in a fix and I’d appreciate any help I can get. I rescued Ella because—”
Pippa was almost certain Calum muttered something about lust. Certainly he’d said something to interrupt his friend.
“As I was saying,” the viscount continued, “I rescued Ella and her brother, Max—and due to certain circumstances, we were forced to get them away from London.”
“This is not Lady Philipa’s affair,” Calum declared.
“Normally I would agree,” his friend said, obviously agitated. “But the situation is desperate. I have to find a place for them.”
Pippa considered. She had not missed the suggestion that the viscount’s silence could be bought with her assistance in the matter of the children. “Do they have any skills?” she asked.
“Dancing in veils and picking pockets,” Calum replied darkly.
She almost pulled up the horse. “I beg your pardon?”
“Calum is in high humor, my lady,” the viscount told her, sounding anything but amused. “No, Ella and Max do not have any…any usual skills.”
“What of their parents?” She realized the question was belated.
“None,” Hunsingore said flatly.
“Orphans?”
“Yes.”
“Sad, but I believe I can think of a solution.”
The viscount loomed over her left shoulder. “You can?”
“Absolutely. I shall return you to your carriage and make haste back to Franchot Castle myself. You will arrive considerably before me, but Justine—Lady Justine—is there. The dowager duchess has taken to her bed. She frequently takes to her bed.” And Pippa wished she did not feel so very relieved by that fact.
“I do not understand what the solution to our problem is to be, Pippa,” Calum said.
“Have you heard of illegitimate children?” she asked.
The total silence that followed went on for a long time.
“I can tell that you have. Of course you have. You are men of the world. I refer, of course, to children who are born to a mother who is not married to their father. I have never been entirely clear as to the manner by which this is accomplished, but I have definitely heard such arrangements discussed. At gatherings.” She wrinkled her nose. “Among ladies who whispered about it,” she finished.
“No doubt,�
�� Hunsingore said, sounding oddly distant.
“Yes, well, there we have our answer, then,” Pippa said.
Calum’s face was rather close to the side of hers. Suddenly he lifted down the hood of her cloak. “There, now I shall be certain not to miss a word of this wondrous solution. What answer do we have, my lady?”
“It’s so obvious,” she told them, smiling at her own ingenuity. “When you arrive at the castle, tell Justine you will require care for two children during your stay. After all, although I have heard illegitimate children referred to only as fatherless, why should they not be motherless instead?”
She turned on the seat and looked into Viscount Hunsingore’s frowning face. “People make explanations entirely too complicated, my lord. Tell Justine you are accompanied by your two illegitimate children.”
Charmed Fourteen
“I can’t,” Struan said.
“You can and you will,” Calum told him, watching Pippa and the dreadful old cart sway out of sight.
Damn, but he could hardly believe encountering her under such circumstances.
And damn, but he wished he were not drawn to her like a hawk to a glint amid Scottish heather.
Somehow he must learn to be colder in the matter of Lady Philipa Chauncey. He said, “We should have thought of pleading your relationship to the little starvelings ourselves, only we do not have Pippa’s wit.”
“Wit?” Struan sat heavily on the wall beside the road. At their request, Pippa had set them down on the highway, but out of sight of the carriage. “She is one of—no, she is the most addlepated female I have ever encountered.”
“I should prefer that you not refer to her as such.”
“Innocence can be charming,” Struan said, evidently oblivious to the protective ire rising within Calum’s bosom. “Innocence is to be expected in a young female. But for such a creature to invent a fantastic solution to a serious problem and to behave as if we shall, of course, be glad to implement that solution—it’s maddening!
“I do believe the silly chit has some notion that a man may somehow produce offspring entirely without the assistance of a female.”
Calum looked at his feet and willed himself not to explode. “You may be correct. On the other hand, I think it far more likely that Pippa knows more than you think. She may even see a certain humor in this.” In fact, he was almost certain he’d seen a sparkle of enjoyment in her eyes after Struan’s horrified reaction to her suggestion.
“I do not see any humor,” Struan said truculently.
“Nonetheless, we are going to do as she has suggested.” Calum offered Struan a hand and, when he reluctantly took it, hauled his friend to stand beside him. “You have no better plan.”
“I will not do it.”
“We might, of course, try suggesting you were secretly married and now are left a widower with two children.”
Struan stared at Calum for a long time before saying, “You would do well not to push me further in this.”
“Quite so,” Calum said. “That would be going too far, since most people know your history. So Pippa’s story must stand as it is.”
“I will not do it,” Struan declared again.
“You most certainly will.”
“Absolutely not.” Struan’s firm mouth turned sharply downward at the corners. “How could you expect me to be believed if I told such an astonishing story?”
“You are not the only man who has two bastards to his credit,” Calum replied, evil glee in his heart and an angelic expression on his face.
Struan turned on him. “You…I do not have two bastards to my name.”
“No,” Calum agreed, puckering his brow. “No. Not that I am aware of.”
“You try my patience, Calum.”
“Not too difficult a task to accomplish,” Calum responded with absolute sincerity. “At least not on this day. Come, we will go on to the castle.”
Struan hung back. “We must think of another plan.”
“There is no time.”
“Then we should go back to the nearest village and find lodgings. I need more time. Perhaps we could cast about more carefully for an appropriate solution.”
“Too late,” Calum said.
“We are early yet for our invitation to Franchot Castle.” Calum took a deep breath. “You forget that we are already committed to this course.”
“How so?”
Calum shook his head. “You are not thinking well, my friend. The addlepated female we recently encountered will not simply forget that she saw us. She will return to the castle and if we have not arrived, she may announce that she has seen us on the road with your two illegitimate children.”
“Do not say that again,” Struan fumed. “We can stop her. She also has a secret—”
“Pippa will not be used to further our ends,” Calum said shortly, and felt the twisting of unwanted premonition within him. Since their last meeting in London, the conviction had grown in him that he might eventually cause Pippa, at the very least, deep humiliation. He glanced at Struan and said, “What she has proposed makes absolute sense.”
“That I have two illegitimate children? One of them fifteen?”
“You were perfectly capable of fathering a child at eighteen. And Pippa is correct, y’know. This is the only answer.”
Struan paced back and forth. “How shall I explain it all?”
“Leave it to me.”
“Good God, no!”
Calum’s patience grew thinner. “We are going on to the castle. At the very least, I am going on to the castle. You have two charges now and I do not think you will easily relinquish them. I know you, Struan. You will not be lured away from this path you have chosen. And the only solution rests with a complete lie. Come, let us return to the carriage.”
“I will not allow you to tell my lies for me,” Struan said, matching Calum’s stride toward the bend that would put them in sight of the carriage.
“You will get no argument from me,” Calum said, deliberately training his eyes ahead. “When we gain the castle, you may go in ahead of me. Ask for Lady Justine and throw yourself upon her mercy.”
“Throw myself…” Struan’s voice trailed off.
Calum schooled himself not to look at his friend. “Precisely. Appeal to her finer feelings. I assure you that Lady Justine has very fine feelings.”
“How do you know?” Struan’s feet beat hard on the road now.
“I know,” Calum said, mildly enough. “My sister is a truly gentle woman. She is also exceedingly intelligent.”
“What has intelligence to do with—”
“If I am not mistaken, Lady Justine may grasp that your story does not have a totally true ring, yet she will—since I also know she is a good judge of character—she will decide to champion you and your children.”
“They are not my children,” Struan said through his teeth.
“Oh, but I rather think they are. You have made them so.”
“I am appalled at the prospect of telling such an outright lie to this woman who has every right to expect my good faith.”
“At the moment, you have a more pressing dilemma at which to be appalled.” Calum stopped and indicated the road ahead. “Here comes one of your inconvenient offspring.”
Before Struan could react, Max—with the coachman hot on his heels—shot around the bend toward them. Seeing Calum and Struan, the boy threw wide his arms and flailed like a mad windmill. “Save me!” he yelled. “ ’E wants t’kill me! ’E wants t’kill a poor, abandoned boy. ’E says ’e’s going to cut off me fingers and toes and string ’em on a braid made of me ’air. ’E’s a monster, that’s what ’e is!”
Max, his red hair glowing, flew into Struan’s arms.
“Working at unhitching the carriage, ’e was, your lordship,” said William, the Stonehaven’s London coachman. “Caught ’im at it. If the ’orses ’adn’t agitated, gawd knows what would ’ave ’appened.”
“I do believe this is where w
e must begin what we intend to continue,” Calum said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking onto his toes. “William, there is something you need to be made aware of.”
“Oh, my God!” Struan, with Max still attached to his body like a morning-glory vine to a stalwart tree, shook his head adamantly. “Do not do this, Calum.”
“William,” Calum said, not to be dissuaded, “how long have you been with the family now?”
“Seven years,” William said promptly and with evident satisfaction. “Seven good years, and the marquess ’as made it clear ’e considers me a man worth trusting.”
“And so do we, William, so do we,” Calum said, beginning to enjoy himself far more than he knew he ought to. “We trust you so much that we are going to take you into our confidence in a most delicate matter.”
“Calum, please.”
“William is most trustworthy, Struan. You know that as well as I do. These children—Ella and Max—they have suffered greatly, William. They have been abandoned to the whims of evil men.”
“You don’t say.” William sounded bored.
“Yes,” Calum said. “But that has all changed. Now that Viscount Hunsingore has decided to assume responsibility for their fate, their futures will be forever changed, and for the better. He could not have guessed how desperate their need for him to come forward and face this obligation had become.”
William, short, muscular and ruddy, met Calum’s eyes squarely. Calum saw the other man slowly form conclusions about what he’d just been told before muttering, “You don’t say,” in a voice heavy with understanding. “Well, now, in that case, I can only congratulate you on your devotion to duty, my lord. And if I can assist in any way, you have only to say the word.”
Trying to pry Max loose, Struan groaned.
“Well,” Calum said, “there is something you can do, William.”
“Only ask, Mr. Innes.”
“Very simply, we would appreciate your learning to refer to Miss Ella and Master Max as his lordship’s children. Do you think you could do that?”
A grin slowly split William’s round face. He swept off his hat and pushed sandy hair out of his eyes. “Consider it done,” he said.
Fascination -and- Charmed Page 54
