His Improper Lady--A Historical Romance

by Candace Camp

  “No, I swear it’s not a joke,” Tom told him.

  Alex raised his hands. “Not me.”

  Con was already back at his desk, reaching into the top drawer. “It’s still here.” He returned to the others and held up his ring against the one in Alex’s hand. “Alex, do you swear that’s not your ring?”

  “No. Mine’s back at the house in Somerset. I never wear it now.” Alex waggled his left ring finger, encircled by a wedding band.

  “Then how—” Con looked up at Desiree. “Are you saying that you’re a Moreland?” He handed back her ring. “But whose child are you? We’ve never met, have we?”

  “No. I don’t know who my father is. I never knew him. I was, as they say, born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

  “I see. Well.” Con cleared his throat. “I apologize. Everyone will tell you, I often open my mouth before I open my mind. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” Desiree assured him even though that wasn’t completely true. She never let anyone see a weakness in her, and it was especially true for these two. They seemed pleasant enough, but she suspected that their friendly attitude would soon change. “I’m not the one who did anything wrong.”

  “True.” Con smiled. He had a very winning smile.

  “Miss Malone believes that her father must have been a Moreland,” Tom explained. “Because of the ring. But she has no proof.”

  Desiree glared at Tom. Con nodded and said, “Yes, you’ll probably need something more than that to be sure.”

  “Let’s see if we can figure this out.” Alex pulled over a chair for Desiree, then perched himself on the edge of Tom’s desk. Con brought over his desk chair, and Tom took up a place next to Alex.

  Desiree sat down, prepared for an interrogation. But Con said, “Now...who are the possibilities? Not our father, of course.”

  Alex let out a laugh and said to Desiree, “I’m sure you’d be an excellent sister, but the duke simply isn’t a possibility. He’s thoroughly devoted to Mother.”

  “Nor Uncle Bellard,” Con added, and all three men grinned at that suggestion.

  “No. Unless your mother has an exceedingly extensive library, Uncle Bellard would never have met her,” Alex assured her, adding, “He’s also a bit old, I would think.”

  “Who else is there?” Tom asked, apparently resigned to the investigation.

  “Not Cousin Albert, surely,” Alex said.

  “God, no,” Con agreed. “I don’t think he’d be the right age, either. It would have to be someone in the duke’s generation, wouldn’t it? There’s Uncle Richard. I suppose he might be a possibility. He has a couple of children, so he must not be off chasing butterflies all the time.”

  Chasing butterflies? Desiree glanced over at Tom and he shrugged.

  “There are all those cousins,” Alex commented.

  “Cousin Castor. And his brother.” Con began to list them on his fingers. “I can’t remember his name, except that thank God they didn’t name him Pollux.”

  Pollux? What did that mean?

  “There’s the one up in Scotland,” Alex added.

  “The fellow with the cannons?”

  Alex nodded and said to Desiree, “You wouldn’t want to be related to him, really.”

  Desiree was beginning to wonder if these two were playing a joke on her.

  “Con...you do realize that she could be making up the whole thing, don’t you?” Tom pointed out.

  “Well, of course.” Con looked at Desiree. “I don’t mean to be impolite, but one has to consider all sides. It’s possible as well that you might be mistaken, that your brother has the ring for some entirely different reason.”

  Alex took up the next part of the conversation, so smoothly that Desiree suspected the twins often spoke this way. “The thing is, you have to settle on who it is before you can prove or disprove it.”

  “That’s what Mr. Quick and I are trying to do. We thought if we could locate the house, we might be able to find someone who had knowledge of the past residents.” She thought it would be better if she left out the part about planning to break into it. As pleasant and odd as the twins seemed, most people took a dim view of illegal entry.

  “Do you know absolutely nothing about your father?” Con asked.

  She shook her head. “My mother left not long after Wells and I were born. We didn’t know either of them. Brock, our older brother, was only six or so.”

  “Your mother left?” Con looked astounded. Clearly this was an idea that didn’t fit into his world. “You mean she, well...” He stopped, obviously groping for a polite way to say what he wanted to.

  “I mean, she ran away. With my father.”

  “He absconded?” Alex and his brother exchanged confused glances. “I’ve never heard of any Moreland who ran off.”

  “Who raised you? Mightn’t they know something? Surely your father must have sent them money for your keep,” Con said.

  “No. We never had anything from him. From anyone.”

  It was clear both men were surprised, even shocked. “That doesn’t sound like—he would have had to be the black sheep of the family,” Con told her.

  Alex nodded. “I think perhaps you are wrong about it being a Moreland. Even if one of them was that irresponsible, surely someone would have stepped in.”

  “Maybe the family didn’t know about the children,” Con suggested.

  Desiree thought they were touchingly naive to think gentlemen provided for their by-blows. They were young, but Desiree didn’t think she’d ever been young enough to have such a rosy vision of life.

  “How did you live, then?” Alex asked. “Were you with a relative, an aunt or someone?”

  “A friend of their mother’s took them in,” Tom said, and a faint smile touched his lips as he looked at Con and said, “Miss Malone and her brothers were raised in a circus.”

  Desiree was hurt that Tom looked so amused and expectant as he revealed something that would make the Morelands recoil from her. She had to tell them eventually, of course, but couldn’t he have waited a bit? And he needn’t have looked gleeful about it.

  “The circus!” Con’s eyes widened, and delight flooded his expressive face. He looked over at his brother, and the two of them grinned like little boys. “Really?” He turned to Tom. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me about all this.”

  The dimple in Tom’s cheek popped in as he grinned at the other two. Was this the reaction he’d been expecting? Something in Desiree’s chest warmed as she watched him. It wasn’t just relief that he had meant no cruelty to her. It was the way he looked, so open and at ease, the affection in his eyes. They really were almost like family to him. She better understood his desire to protect them—though they certainly didn’t seem to need any protection.

  “What was it like?” Alex leaned forward. “Did you travel from town to town? What did she do? The woman who raised you, I mean.”

  “Yes, we traveled sometimes, but a lot of the time we were here in London.” Desiree felt much more comfortable now. “We were acrobats—Bruna the Italian Angel and the Magnificent Malones.”

  “The Magnificent Malones!” Con exclaimed, a wide grin on his face. “That’s grand.”

  “You, too?” Alex asked. “The children?”

  Desiree launched into the tale of her life in the circus. She enjoyed their eagerness, the friendly atmosphere. She was sure it couldn’t be true of the whole family, of course, but she liked the twins. She said less about their time with Falk, though Con and Alex were interested in that, too—asking her questions about climbing houses and picking locks, even, astonishingly, launching into a comparison of various locks and the ease in opening them.

  “You know how to pick a lock?” Desiree asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Alex answered. “Tom taught us. Con’s better
at it than I, though. He’s had more experience.”

  Desiree sent Tom a startled look. “You taught them?”

  He shrugged. “It was the only skill I had. Well, besides hooking watches, and I didn’t think they’d have much use for that.”

  “Oh, we used that a time or two, as well.” Con sent his brother a laughing glance.

  Desiree was no longer surprised when the two were intrigued by her current life, as well. After she finished, the Morelands were silent for a moment, digesting the spate of information.

  Con said, “Still, interesting as all that is, we haven’t come up with a name for this alleged Moreland. Unfortunately, there are a number of Morelands—cousins and second cousins and so on...and some whose connection I sincerely doubt,” Con said. “Alex and I are in the wrong generation to know any of the gossip about your father. What we really need is someone who knows all the Morelands and their history.”

  Alex nodded. “You’re right. We should talk to Uncle Bellard.”

  Tom groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DESIREE GAZED UP at the huge stone mansion, her stomach tight with nerves. She had been anxious the whole ride to Broughton House, alternately excited and scared, and, underneath it all, disbelieving of what was unfolding around her. Con’s casual assurance that it would “be fine, although the duchess might kick up a bit of a fuss” had not helped ease her fears.

  Now, taking in the sight of the largest mansion she had ever seen, she couldn’t help but feel out of her depth. Swallowing hard, she glanced at Tom; however much he disapproved of her, he was the closest thing to support she had here. His expression was somewhat gloomy, but at least he didn’t look scared or hesitant. Desiree would have liked to take his hand for comfort, but, of course, she could not.

  A footman greeted the twins with a bow when they walked inside the door. As they handed over their hats, Alex asked for Uncle Bellard.

  “In the Sultan Room, sir, with the duchess, having a light luncheon,” the footman responded.

  Oh, Lord, she would have no choice but to face the duchess, as well. Desiree pictured a woman vaguely resembling the queen, a white cap atop her iron-gray hair, her mouth set in a thin line as she looked down her nose at Desiree. Desiree stiffened her back. She was not about to back down from some aristocratic harridan.

  Still, she was grateful that Tom took her arm as they walked across the marble-floored entry hall and down a wide corridor. Desiree stopped in the doorway and stared. The entire room was done in red, from the textured wallpaper to the velvet couches to swags of draped material that fell from the center of the ceiling to the walls, giving the appearance of a tent’s interior. Desiree could see why they called it the Sultan Room, though it looked to her more like a bordello parlor. But there was also something warm and comfortable about the space once one became accustomed to its exotic grandiosity.

  “Hallo, Mother.” The twins went to the woman sitting behind the tea cart, pouring.

  “Con, Alex, my loves.” She set down the teapot and stood up, offering her cheek to each of her sons for a kiss. She was nothing like the picture Desiree had imagined, but she was just as intimidating in her own way.

  The duchess was tall and striking, with red hair liberally streaked with gray and a face that retained its beauty even as it aged. Her eyes were bright with intelligence, and she carried herself with the air of a woman sure of herself and her place in the world. It would take a great deal to daunt this woman. Desiree didn’t look forward to presenting her with unpleasant news.

  The duchess smiled at her sons with affection, then turned her warmth on Tom and Desiree. “Hello, Tom, I haven’t seen you in quite a while.” She held out her hand to him. “I must thank you for helping that poor couple reclaim their home.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. It was no trouble.” A faint line of red stained Tom’s cheekbones, and he smiled at the duchess almost shyly. “It wasn’t hard to prove he’d cheated them out of it.” As the duchess turned her gaze to Desiree, he went on hastily, “Allow me to introduce Miss Desiree Malone to you, ma’am.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Malone. Welcome to our home.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Desiree had the uneasy feeling that the duchess’s blue gaze could see everything inside her. For one of the few times she could remember, Desiree was thankful Brock had insisted on sending her to a finishing school, for she was able to make a proper curtsy to the older woman.

  “Alex, ring for Smeggars, there’s a dear. We need more tea and sandwiches. Come sit down with us. Let me introduce you to Uncle Bellard.”

  She led Desiree to one of the sofas where a small old man sat, studying her with great interest. His eyes were bright, his nose prominent, and his white hair was wildly disordered. A pair of spectacles was pushed up to the top of his head.

  He sprang to his feet with an agility at odds with his years. “Miss Malone, eh?” He patted around his head and found his glasses, pulling them down to peer at Desiree. “I don’t suppose you’re related to Dennis Malone the entomologist, are you?”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid not.”

  “Quite all right.” He smiled at her benignly. “Come, sit down.” He gestured toward the sofa. As Desiree took a seat, she saw that one of his shoes was black, the other brown.

  “I’m afraid the girls have gone shopping,” the duchess told her sons. “Sabrina wanted more yarn.”

  “More?” Alex smiled. “She must have ten blankets already.”

  “Oh, well, these are for the coming baby, not yours.”

  “Lilah went out?” Con’s expression turned worried.

  “Yes, dear, women do that, even when they are expecting,” his mother said, a twinkle in her eye.

  “But the air is thick today. And it’s rather hot.”

  “She took a parasol with her. And the air is always thick. Do sit down, Con, and stop fidgeting. What brings you here today? Happy as I am for you to join us, I suspect you have some motive other than the pleasure of our company.”

  “You know me well.” Con gave in to his mother’s request. “We came to talk to Uncle Bellard, actually. About family history.”

  The old man beside her perked up. “Indeed? What’s the question, dear boy?”

  “Well, um...” Con stopped, his gaze going to Desiree. “I’m sorry, Miss Malone. Perhaps you’d rather not?”

  “Go on. It’s all right.” Desiree had little desire to air her history in the duchess’s presence, but this was what she’d been searching for a long time.

  “Miss Malone is trying to find her father. She thinks he may have been a Moreland.”

  “A Moreland?” Bellard looked at her in surprise, adjusting his spectacles. “But who—”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out. That’s why we came to you. She doesn’t know who her father is. He was...” Con paused again, obviously searching for a polite way to tell the story.

  “I am illegitimate,” Desiree told Bellard.

  “Oh. Well. I see.” But the old man still looked a bit confused.

  “You don’t know who he is? You mean he abandoned you and your mother?” The duchess’s voice rose in shock and indignation. “A Moreland? Bellard, do you know who it is?”

  “No, my dear, I’ve never heard anything about it.” He turned back to Desiree. “Are you sure he was a Moreland, child?”

  Desiree pulled out Brock’s ring and handed it to him. As he took it from her, she saw that the old man wore a ring like it.

  “Well! My goodness.” He pushed his spectacles back onto the top of his head and brought the ring close to his eyes. “Yes, it certainly looks like one.” He handed it to Desiree and sat back, looking thoughtful.

  Desiree told him what she knew about her parents, reluctant to look at the duchess. Wh
en she finished, though, it was the duchess who spoke first. “It’s unconscionable! Men have their way and then casually walk off, leaving the mother to bear all the burden. For them to live in poverty. I’m appalled that a Moreland would do such a thing!”

  “Do such a what, dear?” A man strolled into the room. He gave everyone a vague smile as he went straight to the duchess to kiss her on the cheek and sit down beside her. The man, whom Desiree assumed was the Duke of Broughton, glanced around the room. “Why, hello, Con. Alex. I didn’t realize you were here. And Tom.” He paused when his eyes reached Desiree. “I’m sorry, do I know you? I’m a bit poor at remembering names.”

  This remark drew a hastily covered snort from Con, and Alex said, “No, Papa, this is Miss Malone. Con and I met her this morning.”

  “Ah, Miss Malone. Are you related to that American antiquarian?”

  “No, sir.”

  “That’s good.” He nodded. “The man doesn’t know a Theban knife from a Roman gladius.” His eyes fell on the tea cart. “I say, is it time for tea already? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’d been in the workroom so long.”

  “No, dear. Uncle Bellard and I were just taking a light luncheon. I was feeling a mite peckish.”

  “What she means, Hal, is that I forgot breakfast again,” Bellard said with a smile at the duchess. “I’m sorry, Emmeline, but I was lost among the Plantagenets this morning.”

  Desiree sneaked a glance at Tom to see if he was as at sea as she was. He again gave a little shrug, a smile teasing at his lips.

  “Ah, excellent.” The duke nodded as if Bellard’s statement made perfect sense, and he turned back to his wife. Taking her hand in his and patting it, he said, “Now, love, what has you in such a pet?”

  “This young woman has an all-too-familiar story of a man having an affair and then abandoning his child and her mother.”

  “Who? A Moreland? She thinks it’s one of us?”

  Emmeline smiled fondly at him. “No, no, Henry, not one of our Morelands, of course. But there are quite a number of others.”