Rags to Romance

by Killarney Sheffield

  His voice hardened. “You’ve slept with another man?” When she ignored him he crossed the room, grasped her arm and swung her around. The pouch of tea dropped into the teapot with a splash. “Did you share your wares with another since me, Finny?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to lie and say yes, if only to drive him away, but she couldn’t, not when his eyes took on the expression of one pained by the thought. “No,” the word slipped from her lips in a sigh.

  His grip softened. “Why did you leave without a word?”

  Lord Swanson’s words echoed in her mind. To tell him the truth would tear his family apart. “I will never be accepted as a duchess, and your peers will shun you when they learn the truth of my breeding, and they will learn at some point.”

  “So?” Devon let go of her. “We could retreat to Candlewick, let the Londoners think what they will.”

  She turned back to the tea preparations, shrugging off his hand. “I spent too many years hidden away in a dark room. I’ll not go back to that.”

  He sighed. “You can hardly call Candlewick a dark room, Finny.”

  “You know what I mean.” After scooping the leaves out of the teapot she poured two cups and crossed to the little table in the corner where she entertained those interested in purchasing her paintings. “Sugar?”

  “Honey, please.” Devon crossed and sat without being told. “Something made you leave, Finny, and I want to know what.”

  She took her seat and then a sip of her tea trying to think of something to tell him other than the truth. “I realize my dream of being a fine lady was just a foolish little girl’s fantasy, just like Lord Swanson pointed out….” She bit her lip not wanting to bring Lord Swanson into the discussion. “I do not wish to be a lady anymore. I’d rather be just plain old Finny again.”

  “You are Finny and I adore the person you are, in fancy dresses or in a burlap sack.” He reached across to cover her pale hand with his.

  An unladylike snort slipped from her lips. “Nobody adores Finny Donelly.” Shaking off his hand, she stood. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I must get ready for chapel. Kindly see yourself out when you are done with your tea.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried back upstairs, tears stinging her eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Devon wandered the streets for an hour after his conversation with Finny, hurt, confused and angry. He knew she loved him, but why wouldn’t she admit it? Did she want flowery confessions of love? No, she was a woman of simple speech. Did she want jewels and fine things to prove his interest? Again, she was simple in tastes. What did she want from him?

  Desperate, he set off to seek Kat’s advice. Upon being shown into her parlor, he found her seated with the babe nestled in her arms and her husband beside cooing at their little bundle.

  “Kat, I’ve come seeking your wisdom in womanly matters.”

  Eyes twinkling, she grinned up at him. “Oh, really, dear brother? Womanly matters? Well, lucky for you I believe I can help with such things. What seems to be the problem?”

  “I need to find a way to make Finny confess her love for me.”

  Kat’s jaw dropped and her husband frowned.

  “I know she loves me but she refuses to admit it. She seems to think she no longer wants to be a fancy lady.”

  “Devon,” Lord Swanson shook his head. “Leave her be. She has been taken care of and is happy with her new life. She told me the art shop is what she always wanted.”

  Devon fixed him with a narrow stare. “What do you know of her art shop?”

  “I gifted her the blunt to purchase it, Devon.” Lord Swanson glanced at Kat.

  “You knew all along where she was?” Devon frowned at his sister. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Lord Swanson sighed. “She asked me not to. After what happened, we both figured it was the right thing to do. Your stepmother would never have accepted her and what she did would have torn the family apart.”

  “Finny did nothing wrong,” Devon countered.

  “Indeed she didn’t.”

  Devon frowned, puzzled by his friend’s meaning. “I don’t understand.”

  “We decided not to tell you but, well, perhaps if I do you will finally see the folly of your marriage to Finny. Finny came to me one night just after she disappeared. It seems she was sent a missive by your stepmother informing her that her mother had been found.”

  “Finny’s mother is alive?” Devon shook his head.

  “No, she isn’t, at least I don’t think she is.”

  Devon ran a hand through his hair. “I am afraid I do not understand.”

  “Your mother used the excuse to get Finny to leave you and come back to London. She planned to do away with Finny, Devon.”

  “Do away with? You mean … kill her?” He gave Lord Swanson an incredulous look. “I’ll admit Adele can be a little … nasty sometimes, but murder?”

  “She hired a couple of street thugs to kidnap Finny and kill her, but Finny gave them a little sport and got away. She came looking for my help. I’m sorry but I thought it best she spare herself and you any more distress. I gave her enough money to buy the little art shop she dreamed of and keep her in comfort for a year.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry, Devon, I thought you’d forget about her and find some nice girl to settle down with.”

  Try as he might to hate his friend, he couldn’t. Instead of berating him he looked to his sister, who sat white-faced with horror at her husband’s deeds. “I love her, Kat, and I know she loves me.”

  “I am sorry, Devon, I did not know what transpired or I would not have let it happen. Please forgive my husband. He thought he was doing what was best in the situation, believe me.”

  Devon glanced at his brother-in-law. “I will forgive him in time. What I don’t understand is why everyone thinks they know what I want and what is best for me. I am not a child and am of sound mind to decide for myself. Finny might not be anyone else’s choice, but I love her and I will not lose her again.”

  Kat smiled. “Then here is what you must do to convince her of such….”

  * * *

  An hour later Devon headed to the Dowell townhouse. He found his stepmother in the drawing room playing bridge with a couple of her friends.

  “Adele, I’m pleased to find you at home.”

  She frowned at him over her handful of cards. “Where else would I be on my bridge day?”

  He came to a halt before her. “Well, from now on you shall be living at Cousin Herbert’s house in Brighton on his generous charity.”

  An eyebrow rose and she lowered her cards to her lap. “Now why ever should I be there?”

  “Why?” He glanced at the three other women gathered around the table. “Well, dear stepmother, I am casting you from my door. You have a week to gather your things and leave.”

  Adele glanced at the three women. “What are you talking about, Devon?”

  “It has come to my attention, Adele, that you had my wife kidnapped and paid handsomely to have her murdered.”

  The three women gasped.

  “Really Devon, where ever did you get such a ridiculous notion?” Adele swallowed.

  “From my wife and Lord Swanson.”

  Her face drained of color. “I didn’t—I mean, that is to say, she is dead?”

  “No, she is not dead. Your plan backfired, stepmother. Finny is alive and well. In fact, thanks to you, she is now one of the most sought after painters in all of London.”

  One of the women piped up, “Are you referring to Miss Donelly of Winslet Street? Why she is a wonder. She was commissioned to do my darling Jenny’s nuptial portrait. It is absolutely breathtaking.”

  Devon gave the woman a tight smile. “Yes, the one and the same Miss Donelly is my wife, Lady Josephine Dowell.”

  “Oh my!” another woman sighed.

  “Oh dear,” murmured the other.

  “Scandalous! Simply scandalous,” the third gasped. “Come ladies, I shall not dark
en the door of someone who would do a lady of her talent harm.” She glared at the dowager. “Consider yourself unwelcome in our social circles from now on, your ladyship.” Heads held high and noses in the air, the women flounced from the room.

  The dowager’s wail carried in their wake. “How dare you, Devon! Of all the horrid things you have done this takes the prize. I am ruined, simply ruined! No one will ever believe I am innocent of such rumors. I will be forever ostracized from the ton after this.”

  “You should have thought of that before you tried to kill my wife, Adele.” Devon glared at her. “What I do not understand is why. Why would you try to destroy Finny for trying to climb the social ladder when you did the same thing by marrying my father? Is a lowly actress so much better than a woman born in the slums?”

  Adele wrung her hands in her lap. “You don’t understand, Devon. The girl is unwashed, not fit to grace the rooms of this hallowed house. You can’t better trash, boy, no matter how neatly you stack it.”

  “You’ve got that right, Adele. No matter how you dress and how pretty you talk, you are still trash.” With that Devon pivoted and stalked from the house. He climbed into his carriage after leaving instructions with the valet to see that the dowager removed herself from the house by week’s end, and tried to calm his inner rage. Once himself again he gave the address of the gallery to the driver, and they were off.

  After rousing the owner from his midafternoon tea, Devon purchased every one of Finny’s paintings and ordered them sent to his closest acquaintances. Then he headed to Finny’s shop. There he painted his message in giant red letters across the cobblestones as a curious crowd gathered. When done he climbed onto the roof of his carriage and tossed a handful of pebbles at Finny’s upper window. “Josephine May Donelly!” When she didn’t appear he called again. “Josephine May Donelly!”

  The sash flew up on the window and then Finny peered out. “Devon, I mean, my lord? What are you doing here?”

  Devon turned to the milling crowd. “This is Josephine Donelly, or as her friends call her, Finny. As of today she is the most sought after artist in London. In fact, all her paintings at Mr. Sebastian’s renowned gallery have sold out.”

  Finny gasped. “Really?”

  He grinned at her. “Yes, really.” Turning back to the crowd he raised his voice. “I, Lord Devon Dowell, did marry this girl when she was just a Whitechapel lass. Not only did I marry her but I am here to confess before you, the great common citizens of London, that I am fully and hopelessly in love with her. And I promise from this day forward to honor and cherish her and bow to her every wish and to never try and change her as long as there is breath in my body, if she should consent to remain my wife until her dying day.” He pointed to the words painted on the cobblestones. “There lies my written confession for all to see.”

  He looked to Finny, a slow smile curving her lips as she sounded out the words. “I, Lord Devon Dowell, do hereby confess to being hopelessly in love with Whitechapel lass Finny Donelly.”

  The crowd roared their approval when she smiled. “But, Devon, I can’t—we can’t, I mean your stepmother….”

  “My stepmother has been disowned and removed from my house in light of her confession to trying to have you murdered, Finny.”

  Her full red lips formed an ‘O’ of surprise. “But … what about the rest of the nobles.”

  “You are the most sought after artist in London, Finny. Do you think they would dare shun you?”

  She pinned her lip between her teeth a moment.

  “Besides,” Devon grinned. “Since when do I care what anyone thinks? I married a girl with no hair who smelled like a sewer and cussed better than a sailor, remember?”

  A giggled escaped her.

  “Now, will you come down here so I can kiss you in front of all these witnesses and take you home where you belong, or do I have to climb up there?”

  Face flushed and eyes dancing, she smiled. “I’ll be right down.” In a flash the window slammed shut and she disappeared.

  Devon climbed down from the carriage roof and crossed to the door just as it swung open. Finny flung herself into his arms. Not caring about the watching crowd, Devon wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly. When she sighed he drew back. “I love you, Finny.”

  “I love you too, Devon. You are my knight in shining armor.”

  The End

  Other romances by Killarney Sheffield from Books We Love:

  The Cracksman’s Kiss

  To Love A Horseguard

  Stand & Deliver Your Love

  The Courtesan

  Love’s Lies

  Sprockets, Silk & Savages

  Marie's Second Chance

  And for the young and young at heart:

  The Cowboy Capers: Book 1- Freedom

  About the Author

  Killarney Sheffield is an award winning romance author from the rustic Canadian prairies. She lives on a cattle ranch with her five kids. When she is not penning historical romantic adventures she fills her time with her thoroughbred stallion 'Stamp de Gold', whom she affectionately calls ‘Love Monkey’, and her herd of AQHA mares.

  Website: www.killarneysheffieldromanceauthor.com

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