He meant to be not only generous, but lavish. He would pay for the stolen necklace, and set her up in style in London. Her reputation would not suffer in the least, rather, the contrary. She was a widow, not a deb. Officially, they would be good friends, but within the inner circle, people would know the relationship between them. This need not prevent Lady Camden from being accepted everywhere. Adultery was tolerated when it was executed with style and discretion. When their affair was over, she would be free to marry where she wished. Much better off than she was now. Yes, she would certainly jump at his offer.
No fear of rejection bothered Lord Devane when he lifted the brass knocker of the tall, narrow house on Half Moon Street. Not much of a house; he would do better for her. “Lord Devane to see Lady Camden,”
he said when the butler answered.
The butler had not been aware of Lord Devane’s odium, and went to the saloon to announce him to Lady Camden, who had just come down. Probably expecting his lordship, the butler surmised. From the hallway Devane heard himself being announced. A dead silence followed. After a long moment Lady Camden’s voice was heard. “I am not at home to Lord Devane, Palter.”
Francesca was in a fury and made no effort to lower her voice. Let him hear her deny him entry. How
dare
he come here, after the way he had treated her!
“Very good, madam.”
Palter turned to leave and found himself confronted with the very tall, wide-shouldered nobleman wearing a sardonic grin. “Thank you, Palter,”
Devane said, and strolled into the saloon. Palter gave one helpless look and left, shaking his head.
Devane bowed punctiliously and spoke in polite accents. “I am sorry to hear you are indisposed, Lady Camden.”
She rose up from the sofa, pale as a wraith, her features frozen in disbelief. In her white face her eyes were like banked coals. “Get out!”
she said.
Devane continued toward her. “I have come to apologize for last night’s brusque injury. You may imagine how I felt, to see you with Mr. Caine—
again.”
It came to him as an inspiration, to pretend jealousy.
“Out, I say!”
she exclaimed, pointing a finger to the door.
“Let me speak my piece. Every dog has his bite, and we are confirmed dog-lovers, you and I. Come now, there is no need for such Draconian treatment as this, Francesca.”
Slightly mollified by his apology, and extremely curious, she sat down. Devane sat on the chair nearest her and reached for her hand. This was doing it a bit brown, and Francesca withdrew her fingers. “Say what you have to say, and go,”
she said coolly.
“I came about the necklace,”
he said, and watched her closely. Yes, that got to her.
She looked at him, a helpless yet hopeful glance. “Oh, you have heard about it.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. He rose and joined her on the sofa, an avuncular arm around her shoulders. “Poor girl. All of London knows. Nothing else is spoken of on Bond Street this morning.”
She drew in a sharp breath and moved a little away. The skin on her pale face seemed to tighten visibly. She bit her lips, and looked a question at him. “That was what you wished to discuss last night, I collect?”
he asked gently.
“Yes. I was going to ask your help.”
She looked at him uncertainly.
“Naturally I am eager to help, but I could not like to discuss it so publicly.”
“But you said you would be at Newmarket today.”
“I didn’t go when I saw you needed me.”
A hesitant smile hovered on her lips, and her eyes softened. “Oh, is that what it was: I found it hard to believe you could have changed so completely, so quickly.”
“My feelings have not changed, Francesca. Do you mind if I call you so?”
She just smiled, and he continued. “You recall I said I was eager to help, and indeed I am.”
“Oh, thank you. Maundley is being perfectly
dreadful!
He is stealing my money, and making me leave the house.”
“Then he must be dealt with. I won’t have you badgered in this fashion. You must leave Maundley up to me.”
It felt like the weight of the world falling from her shoulders. Tears glazed her eyes, and she could think of no words to say. She had always felt, almost by instinct, that Devane could handle anything. “Thank you,”
she said softly.
Through the blur of tears she saw his head bending toward hers, but there was no menace in his aspect. His face was softened with pleasure as he smiled at her. His lips alighted on hers, as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. His arms closed around her, still gently, but the kiss deepened.
Francesca felt she was in a dream. Devane was going to rescue her. He loved her. His arms tightened, and she put her arms around him, returning the pressure. The embrace quickly escalated from tenderness to rising passion. Suddenly Devane was crushing the air out of her lungs, and Francesca was shocked to notice that she was reciprocating. She drew back, breathing hard, and embarrassed.
“What will you think of me?”
she asked with a trembling smile.
“I think you are the most delightful lady I have ever had the pleasure of meeting—and assisting in her troubles. Maundley is putting you out of the house, you said. We shall just have to remove you to a different house. I must say, I don’t think much of his provision for his daughter-in-law.”
“He was always clutch-fisted,”
she sniffed.
“Older men are not so easily influenced by a young lady’s charms,”
he said blandly. “Now, about this wretched necklace. Where is it?”
“I don’t know. I believe my husband gave it to his mistress.”
A sharp look pierced her. “Come now, if you want my help, you must play fair with me, Francesca. I will repay Maundley for the trinket, or I will return it and buy you a new one, but between us there will be no prevarication.”
She began to sense some undertone of duplicity in his kind offer. “I couldn’t let you pay for it. It costs five thousand guineas. I was hoping you would help me discover who David gave it to, and get it back.”
“I think we both know who he gave it to,”
he said with a cynical look.
“Indeed I do not. Why would I ask your help if I knew?”
“Because I am rich, and I like you. I think you and I would deal very well together, but I insist on the truth.”
Francesca’s heart soared an instant, but the word
like,
when added to his cool expression, did not hint at a proposal. “What, exactly, did you have in mind, Lord Devane?”
“A house in the West End, a generous allowance, every consideration for your reputation, and a settlement one way or the other regarding the necklace. I doubt you will find many gentlemen as generous.”
Her ears rang, and her head felt light. “A mistress-ship, in fact.”
He inclined his head slightly in agreement.
He hadn’t even the grace to blush, but examined her as if she were a heifer up for auction. “You will please leave this house at once. I will not tell Mr. Caine what you have suggested, or he would insist on calling you out, and I would not like anyone killed because of me. If word of this infamous insult is bruited about town, however, he will undoubtedly challenge you to a duel. And he is a very fair shot, too,”
she added, although she doubted Selby had ever held a pistol in his life.
Devane heard her out without any particular show of outrage. “Surely you didn’t expect an offer of marriage?”
She blushed, but denied it. “I did not. I thought you were offering the assistance of a disinterested friend. Neither did I expect this—this—outrage!”
Devane got to his feet. “You are warm in your treatment of disinterested friends. After you have considered this outrage in quiet contemplation, you may change your tune. You are a byword for profligacy in this town, Frankie.”
Her cheeks turned to scarlet, but she held back the tears. They glittered like mica in her eyes, but did not fall. “That is what appealed to you, no doubt.”
He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “As you see. You are on the point of being ejected from your house, your money greatly reduced, your reputation in ruins. You told me earlier you have no wish to return to your father’s house. What other option is open to you?”
“And you, in your kindness, have come to take advantage of a helpless lady. My God, I thought David was bad. At least he did not prey on decent women. I would sooner milk cows or wash dishes for a living than live with you.”
“Why, I think we would deal admirably. A widow who maligns the character of her dead husband, who plays the coquette with such easy abandon and sets the seal on her sterling character by stealing the family jewels can hardly expect a carte blanche from a vicar. You will not receive another offer so generous.”
“I do not consider any offer outside of marriage generous, sir. And if you can believe all that of me, I wonder that you make any offer at all.”
“I am not interested in your character. In fact, I rather like an accomplished flirt.”
“Flirts are more demanding. We demand at least a token of common decency. Good day.”
She didn’t bother asking him to leave again. She left herself instead, with a withering glare as she swept past him, holding her skirts aside to avoid contamination.
Devane sat on a minute, thinking. He had certainly botched that in some manner! It had seemed to begin auspiciously enough. Surely she didn’t think he had come to offer marriage to someone who had made herself the talk of the town? But that, obviously, was exactly what she did think despite her mention of disinterested friendship. That kiss had no reek of friendship, yet she had been truly disgusted at his proposition. A very foolish brain resided inside that girl’s head. He rose slowly and left, for although he had not an iota of fear for Mr. Caine’s shooting ability, he had no wish to involved himself in a rackety duel.
Devane went to his club to catch up on the latest gossip regarding the Lady Camden affair. He met Mr. Irwin and accosted him as a likely source of information. “I owe you a drink, Mr. Irwin,”
he said.
Mr. Irwin smiled in agreement. “We shall continue our discussion that was interrupted by my darting off t’other night.”
They went to a table and called for wine. “Something to do with a diamond necklace, and Stop Hole Abbey, I think you said? That sounds amusing. Tell me about it.”
“I daresay there is no harm in telling it, now that the whole town is buzzing with Maundley’s version of the story. The thing is, you see, that loose screw of a Camden gave the family diamonds to his mistress, and old Maundley has got the wind up that Lady Camden took them.”
“Surely that is what the whole town thinks.”
“Aye, because Maundley said so, and Lady Camden was too green to hold on to the evidence to the contrary. She found billets-doux in Camden’s effects when she was clearing the debris away after his death. Silly ass was carrying on with a girl called Rita and squirreled away her notes. Stands to reason he gave the wench the diamonds. I daresay he thought he’d be home and recover them before they were missed, but then he caught a bullet in the Peninsula—and he only a civil servant—and that is what put the cat among the pigeons,”
“Did Lady Camden not tell Lord Maundley about this?”
“She didn’t want his parents to know what a scoundrel he was. Maundley was told by Caine when he began threatening her, but he didn’t believe it then. Maybe if Lady Camden had gone to him with the notes in the first place—but she didn’t realize then that the diamonds were missing, you see, and there was no point upsetting his parents. Maundley won’t hear a word against Camden now.”
Devane listened closely and said, “It is no secret that Camden carried on his affairs, even after his marriage. I seem to recall a Mrs. Ritchie.”
“No, it wasn’t her. It was some woman called Rita he was seeing. That’s how she signed her billets-doux. I’ve been trying to get a line on her, but you know the sort of freemasonry that exists within the muslin company.”
“Still, if this story is true,”
Devane said pensively, “it shouldn’t be impossible to discover the woman’s identity. Very likely she still has the bauble. She could hardly sell a famous necklace, not to a reputable jeweler, at any rate.”
“No, and not to Stop Hole Abbey either. I’ve been there. Well, that’s where I was off to the evening we met.”
“To try to recover Lady Camden’s diamonds.”
“No, Lord Maundley’s,”
he replied with a worried frown. “A simple greenhead like Lady Camden, she isn’t capable of dealing with a cut-and-thrust gent like Maundley.”
“I would hardly call her a greenhead.”
“Well, she is,”
Mr. Irwin said firmly. “She never had a beau till Camden. He brought her to London fresh from the depths of Surrey. She was mad for him. Of course she was cut to ribbons when he got killed, but until she found out he had other women, she was still as faithful as if he were alive. It was only when she learned the truth that she began to cut up her larks in revenge. Innocent larks, Devane. As innocent as the flirting of a deb. Still, as she ain’t a deb, but a widow, some tongues began wagging. The worst of it is, there are wretches in this town who would take advantage of a lady in her position.”
Devane sipped his wine in silence, but he felt decidedly uneasy to hear himself called a wretch.
“And who has she got to defend her?”
Mr. Irwin continued. “Mr. Caine—another greenhead, when all’s said and done. He wouldn’t know what to do with a bit o’
muslin if she dropped her hankie in his path. He’d pick it up and give it back and continue on his way.”
“Who, exactly, is this Mr. Caine, and what is his relationship to her?”
“He’s a friend and neighbor from Surrey. A sort of surrogate brother. Lady Camden and his young sister were bosom bows. Caine is about fed up with the whole thing. I was speaking to him this morning. He hopes to get her packed off to the country.”
“He is not a suitor, then?”
“No, he’ll marry some bishop’s daughter, if he ever finds one desperate enough to have him.”
“Hmm. If Lady Camden leaves town with this cloud hanging over her head, she will never be able to return.”
“She’ll be leaving, right enough. Old Maundley is kicking her out of his house and docking her dowry the price of the necklace. It’ll leave her too short to carry on in London even if she wanted to.”