Edith Layton (17 page)

“Now let’s see what’s afoot…” he said. “Miss Lowell! What the devil are you doing here?”

He was a tall fair-haired fellow with a kink in his nose, and eyes so blue she could make out their color even in the scant light.

“Captain Anthony Briggs, retired, at your service,” he said, when she didn’t answer. “Remember me, from the fair? With Christian? I was hired by the squire to investigate the matter of the lost heir to Egremont.”

She took a steadying breath. “Then why didn’t you cry out an alarm when you saw me?”

“Good question!” he congratulated her. “Knew Christian wouldn’t care for a nodcock,” he murmured. “Thing is, I wasn’t sure who you were, and a canny officer never cries rope on anyone until he can see what flag he flies. Now, what are
you
doing here?”

She moistened her dry lips with her tongue as she tried to come up with an excuse.

“Oh,” he said, with a peculiar smile, “I’m the nodcock, ain’t I? Go right on up. Don’t think he’s expecting you, but he’d have to be dead not to welcome you to his bed. Third chamber to the left at the top of the stair.”

“Mr. Briggs!”
she gasped as she realized what he meant. “It is certainly not that!”

“Captain Briggs,” he corrected her absently. “Then what is it? You’re not carrying cutlery or a cannon, so I don’t think you’re out to kill him. And if it is pleasure you’re after bringing him at this hour, why the devil are you? You’re a proper young lady, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she said. She hesitated, and then, since he hadn’t exposed her, went on quickly, “I’m here to tell him something. I have to talk to him. It’s a matter of…” A horrible thought occurred to her. “Are you working for the baronet as well?”

He nodded. “And a few others.”

She closed her eyes and her mouth. Her shoulders slumped. Now she’d done it. When the news got back to the manor, at the least, she’d never be trusted again. They’d think she was a trollop, at best.

The man watched her in silence, then seemed to come to a decision. “I work for everyone, but I owe allegiance to only a few. Christian is one of them. Your visit is your secret, and his. If you don’t want to go upstairs, I’ll tell him you’re here. Give me more than a moment,” he warned her. “He’ll need to be woken, and quietly. He had a pint too many last night. My fault entirely, I thought he needed some rest after his day at the fair. Wait here. Don’t make a sound.”

Julianne paced the kitchen garden for what seemed a half hour, then started silently singing verses to an old song in her head to pass the time. She frowned when she realized she was singing about a woman lamenting how she’d been deceived by her lover. Still, the song was lodged in her mind, and it had a great many verses. She’d gone through three renderings when she saw the back door to the inn open.

“The devil!” Christian exclaimed. “He spoke truth. I thought I was still dreaming.” He reached her side in a few strides and caught her up in his arms. Her hood fell back as he buried his face in hair. “Lord, Julie. Why are you here? How did you know I needed you here? I’m so glad you’re here.”

His hair was wet, his face was cold, he smelled of soap and coffee. “I was drunk as a wheelbarrow last night,” he muttered, “and dead to the world when Anthony woke me. But I’m not a drunkard,” he said
quickly, pulling back to look into her eyes. “The problem is that I can drink too well, it takes a lot to stagger me, and I tried for oblivion last night. That was stupid. And I’m well paid for my idiocy. It felt like being resurrected from the dead. My head aches, I won’t tell you what my stomach feels like…but why are you here?”

“I’m going to London,” she blurted. “The baronet insists. There are to be inquiries, Sophie says. The matter of the earldom. I didn’t know when I could slip out again to tell you. But Sir Maurice said that you’d be in irons before the month was out. I had to tell you, warn you.”

“Oh, is that all? Thank you. But I knew some and guessed the rest. You’ll like London. And I’ll be there, too.”

She stared at him as he ran a hand over his hair in a gesture she was coming to recognize meant that he was thinking.

“You’re going to London?” she asked, her own stomach feeling hollow. What a fool she was. He’d been planning to leave and had never said a word about it.

“Yes, I was going to tell you when it was settled. I have to. That’s where the final inquiries into the title are being held.”

“But Sir Maurice said you’d be in irons before the month was out.”

“Oh, don’t look like that,” he said, pulling her back into his arms. “I’ve no plans to go to prison. Sir Maurice is thinking wishfully. I’ll be earl of Egremont when I return. Mmm, you’re warm, and it’s a cold,
cold dawn. But we can’t stay here, right under everyone’s noses,” he said, looking up. “The stars are the wrong way round, but I can read them anyway. I can’t ask you up to my room, even if I meant nothing but conversation. Anthony would be scandalized.” He grinned. “And you’re right. We won’t be able to see each other for a while, I suppose. Care to come for a walk with me?”

“In the dark?”

“We won’t go far, but I’m tired of whispering.”

He took her hand, and she stepped to the bottom of the garden with him. They walked until they came to a circular bench wrapped around a huge tree.

“There,” he said, as they sat down. “Shelter from the dew and the eyes of the inn.” He put an arm around her and took a deep breath. “What do you want to talk about? Come, Little Jewel,” he said, when she didn’t answer. “You’ve got dozens of questions in that pretty head of yours; when I put my ear to yours I could hear them buzzing there. Ask me anything.”

“Who are you?” she said.

He laughed, low. “I told you who I was. Either you believe me, or you don’t. Nothing I say will change that.”

“You told me who you were,” she said carefully, “but not who you’ve become. You never said a word about…” She paused, discovering that the darkness gave her the false courage of anonymity. “You never really spoke about Newgate, or the Hulks, or your imprisonment there or in the antipodes.”

“No,” he agreed. “I didn’t. I don’t like to talk about
it. And I don’t think it’s good for a proper young woman’s ears. Why is it important?”

She closed her eyes, trying to hide in a deeper darkness. “Because anyone could have found out about my childhood, Sophie said.”

“True, true.” His voice came soft and slow. “But any old lag could tell you about prison, love. What would that prove? Only that I’ve lost my soul somewhere along the way and am trying to find it again. And how would that help? But if you wish…

“Newgate is hell,” he said. “The rich do well enough there. They have separate quarters, good food, and clean water, even visitors. We weren’t rich, we had some funds, but the lawyers ate up our house and property. We were thrown into a cage with twenty men where there was adequate room for four. Vile men and good men, dying and desperate ones, men and boys, and they preyed on each other. My father was strong, but not wise to the ways of men with no morals. If it weren’t for the two boys I met on our first day, I don’t believe we’d have lasted a night, much less a week. But the boys traded their prison wisdom for my father’s strength, and we looked after each other. Against all odds we somehow survived. We endured a year before we were sent to the Hulks.

“The Hulks,” he said softly, “made us want to return to Newgate.” His voice became expressionless. “They were once ships of the line, warships. They lie at anchor, out of sight and mind. Most of them take you nowhere but to your grave. You’re sent to the lowest deck first. There’s no light or air. If you live long enough, you rise to the next deck. If you survive the
fevers and fights, you may be lucky enough to be let out to work on the roads or in the muck of the riverbank each day and be locked up again every night. If you eventually rise higher, you may finally sail away—to Botany Bay. Then if you can survive the voyage, you reach land and work in the sunlight again. If you’re clever and lucky, you live out your sentence. Not many do. We did.”

The night was still. Julianne didn’t know what to say. He’d told her everything and nothing, and she couldn’t ask for more.

“So you see,” he said on a breath of sound, “it’s very important that I become the rightful earl of Egremont. Not much can change the laws of the land or the way England treats her prisoners, not in a year, or maybe even in a lifetime. But a man of funds and influence can do more to change things than any man can, and few, if any of them, are trying. I will. I shall. That’s why I’m here. The title has power. Egremont has riches that make men like the baronet drool just talking about them.

“I don’t care about cloisonné snuffboxes or Van Dycks or da Vincis,” he mimicked the baronet’s dry tones, “or any damned item of
virtu
, as he put it, that Egremont holds. I care about the power of the name and the title, and the way it may work for change.

“Although,” he added, his voice becoming his own again, “I do like the thought of owning all that silver and gold, of course. And so, there you have it. By the way,” he added, “I spent most of our time together talking about our shared past, not because I was trying to convince you of who I was, or at least, not en
tirely. And certainly not because I learned about it from others. But because I enjoy doing it. And you’re right. We’ve discussed those days enough. So now what shall we talk about? Because if we don’t talk, I’m going to kiss you.”

“That would be a mistake,” she said breathlessly.

“I thought you knew,” he said as he took her into his arms. “I’m famous for my mistakes.”

Their kiss was long, full of heat and yearning, and desperation. She was crying when they were done.

“Ah, Julie, my jewel,” he said, touching the tears on her cheek. “Are these for me? Then don’t. I will endure. Now, time to get you home again. It may well be that you’ll be called to testify for or against me. Being found wandering home at dawn from a secret meeting with me, wet with tears and dew, won’t help either of us. But never doubt it, we will meet again.”

She was moved so deeply she couldn’t speak. And even worse, in spite of what he’d said, she began to doubt she’d ever see him again, however it all turned out.

H
ammond healed quickly; the household was packed up in no time at all, and Julianne’s parents were ecstatic to hear she’d been invited to London. So it wasn’t very long before Julianne found herself in a carriage on her way there.

“One of the best things about Egremont is that it isn’t far from London,” Sophie burbled, as the coach moved out of her drive. “We’ll be there by dinnertime, and this time of the year that means before dark. So if you get weary,” she cautioned Hammond, in the seat opposite her, “just say something, and we’ll stop.”

“I feel right as rain,” Hammond assured her with a grin. “I’m taped up tighter than a dead Egyptian king, so nothing jars, and nothing hurts.”

Julianne sat up straight. Sophie had said that Egremont wasn’t far from London, and yet they were leaving from the squire’s house. Were they now that sure that Hammond would inherit? Why? She’d tried to avoid her cousins in the days since the night she’d met Christian in the dark, and wondered if she’d missed anything.

She decided it had been a slip of the tongue. Old dreams die hard, she certainly knew that. She relaxed and tried to sit back again. That was difficult, as she was sandwiched between Sophie and her mama; Hammond had the seat opposite to himself, since the squire had chosen to ride horseback along with the outriders alongside their coach. And Sir Maurice had departed some days earlier, after making the shocking announcement that he’d see them in London, too.

The others at the table had gone stone still and stared at him.

“But you never leave the north!” Sophie’s mama had gasped.

The baronet gave her a thin smile. “Patently untrue, my dear Martha. You see me here before you right now, do you not? It’s true that I don’t like to leave the comforts and beauty of my home. But I do what I must for the family and always have done. I’ll be needed in London. And so I’ll be there.” He’d given Julianne a warmer smile as he explained, “My family is always uppermost in my mind. How could I be comfortable thinking of Egremont in the hands of a usurper?”

She’d ducked her head, not wanting to show how upset she was by the question. He took it for modesty, she supposed, and was glad he didn’t ask more. She’d been trying to avoid conversations with him. She doubted the old gentleman entertained any romantic notions about her. But since Christian had joked about it, and her cousin had mentioned it, too, it had poisoned any pleasure she’d taken in the baronet’s company. Now every gallant courtesy he offered was
tainted by the faint suspicion it might be more than that. And so though she was uneasy about this trip to London, she was glad that at least she probably wouldn’t be seeing Sir Maurice as often there.

Now, Julianne gazed out the window and soon was farther away, in her mind. Instead of sitting rump to rump with two perfumed ladies, she was back in that cool dark night in the inn’s kitchen garden, the only warmth that which she found in Christian’s embrace as she tasted the blazing heat of his mouth. Lord, but the man’s mouth had held delicious secrets, and made her yearn to discover every one of them…

But Sophie’s mama began talking, and that ended any daydreaming.

“First thing we shall do after we get you settled comfortably, Hammond,” Sophie’s mama said, “is to leave our cards at all the best houses. We have to let the
ton
know we are in town,
and
with the future earl of Egremont.”

Julianne hoped Sophie and her mama didn’t feel her squirm. “But surely,” she asked meekly, “that’s a bit premature? I mean, to tell them Hammond will inherit when it isn’t decided yet?”

It seemed to her that the others in the carriage exchanged more than a look as they glanced at each other. Then Sophie spoke. “It’s as much as decided, Julianne. Or so Sir Maurice said. But I suppose you’re right. Much better to say he is the heir presumptive, then let them discover the truth when the news is made public.” She exchanged another silent look with her mother and Hammond.

That was when Julianne realized they must have
spoken about a great deal more than she knew these last days, when she’d thought she’d been the one avoiding them. She didn’t have much to say for the rest of the journey. But then, ominously enough—at least to her, neither did they.

“London, in all its glory,” Sophie said happily, when she saw how her cousin was staring out the window at the city they were driving through. “You’ll like it here, Julianne, once you get used to the noise and the crowds. Don’t worry, it’s terrifying for a country girl, but you’ll soon find yourself accustomed.”

“I
have
been to London, you know,” Julianne said a little gruffly. “although not in years. We were here to see Jon before he went abroad. We saw his regiment drilling in Hyde Park; they looked so brave and splendid…” Her voice tapered off, and she added quickly and too brightly, “To think! It was so long ago and yet seems like yesterday. We stayed for the week, and saw everything: Astley’s horse circus, the Tower menagerie, we heard a concert in the park and saw the palace, too.”

Sophie laughed. “You haven’t seen anything. We’ll go to dances and parties, the theater and restaurants. Good. We’re finally leaving the riffraff behind. Now we’ll make better time.”

Julianne looked out the window again. They’d passed through slums teeming with foot traffic, swarming with people with dogcarts and handbarrows further clogging streets full of running children and throngs of adults. But now they drove freely down a broad avenue that ran alongside a green park. This was obviously a wealthy district: it was cleaner,
the traffic thinner, the horses and the coaches were of a finer class. The few people she saw were either dressed splendidly or were clearly servants.

They finally slowed as they approached a half circle of tall, imposing town houses. The coach rolled to a stop in front of a handsome gray house at the end of the quiet street. As the coach rocked and settled, the door was pulled open. The squire stood there, fresh-faced from his riding, and beaming. “We’re here,” he said. “How are you faring, Ham? Feeling good enough to use your own pins to get down, or do you need some help?”

“I can do it myself,” Hammond said, “and I’d rather, thank you. But it will take some time. Let the ladies go first.”

After Julianne got out, behind Sophie and her mama, Hammond edged his way stiffly down the short coach stair to the street. “I feel fine,” he said, as they watched his slow progress. “I’m just getting out the knots after sitting for so long.”

The door to the town house opened.

The squire looked up and smiled, his wife beamed and curtseyed, as did Sophie. Hammond nodded a stiff bow. And Julianne gaped.

“Very good, you’re here,” Sir Maurice said as he came down the steps to greet them. “And well before the dinner hour. Welcome.”

Three liveried footmen came running out to retrieve their baggage.

“Sir Maurice is staying here, too?” Julianne asked Sophie softly.

“I should think so!” she exclaimed. “It’s his house, after all.”

Julianne was not happy, although she had every reason to be. Or so her cousins said. It didn’t make her any happier to know they were right.

The baronet’s house astonished her with its luxury. Four floors high and with a garden in the front and back, it was elegantly designed and furnished with taste. “I’ve my own room in the attics,” Julianne’s maid had reported with awe. “I don’t have to share a bed with nobody, and I’ve got a window, too.”

Julianne had three windows in her huge bedchamber, her own bath, and a toilet. And it flushed! She was embarrassed by how fascinated she was by it, and was glad no one could see her testing it again and again. She’d expected the fine paintings she saw on the walls throughout the house, the objects of art on display. But she hadn’t anticipated, or experienced, all the modern facilities and little elegancies that made life so incredibly comfortable here. There were gaslights in the downstairs rooms, fresh flowers everywhere, and her bed was wide, soft, and always fitted with fresh, clean-smelling sheets. It staggered her that an austere gentleman as Sir Maurice would live in such luxurious style. She told Sophie so the first evening they arrived, as they waited in the salon for the rest of the family to gather before dinner.

“Oh, but his wife was a rich woman, and she pampered herself,” Sophie explained, picking a porcelain shepherdess from a nearby table and turning it over to
see who had made it. “And I expect he keeps to such style in her memory.”

“And for my guests,” the baronet’s dry, amused voice added.

Julianne and Sophie swung around to see that Sir Maurice had arrived. Julianne blushed. Sophie grinned.

“My own needs are less demanding,” he went on. “But I suppose one becomes accustomed. So, you like my town house, do you, Miss Lowell? And careful with that, my dear Sophie, it is Sèvres, and from Versailles.”

“It’s a beautiful home,” Julianne said, as her cousin hastily put the figurine down. “But you said you stay most of the time in your home in the north. So is this house always empty? It’s hard to believe, it seems so lived in.”

“It is lived in,” he said. “Since I haven’t been in London in the past three years, I rented it out. To responsible persons, of course. But there’s no sense letting a valuable property go unused; money makes money, that’s sound practice. I’ve a clause in the lease that says the tenants must vacate when I come to Town.” He saw her expression, and his smile became wider. “Don’t risk a penny at whist, Miss Lowell, your opponents will know every card in your hand. You mustn’t feel so sorry for my tenants, my dear. They’re staying in a fine hotel now, I believe, and at any rate, are seldom so inconvenienced.

“But now that I’m here again, I quite like the idea,” he mused, looking around the room. “I can inspect the property to see how it’s being kept up, entertain,
and take care of family business.” He frowned. “But alas! I’m a bachelor again, and have no idea of how to entertain you young ladies as I wish to.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Sir Maurice,” Sophie’s mother said breathlessly as she entered the room at a trot. “We do!”

“And so how do you find London, Miss Lowell?” the tall gentleman drawled, as he looked down at her through his lifted quizzing glass.

Where it’s supposed to be
, was what Julianne longed to answer. Instead, she smiled, and said, “Fascinating. I know I’m not supposed to be enthused about it, but I am a country girl, after all.” She hoped that would be enough to make him move on. He was too immaculately turned out to be interested in a bumpkin. His perfection actually made her anxious and a little too aware that though her gown was lovely, it was made-over. She was sure he’d never owned any item of clothing that had been refurbished. In fact, she wondered if he ever wore anything twice, except for his golden fobs and signet ring.

He was a handsome man with even features. But what one noticed first was how well dressed he was. His neckcloth was so high Julianne wondered if he used the quizing glass because he couldn’t lower his chin. His fair hair was brushed to perfection in a style Brummel had made popular. Doubtless, he was a member of the Dandy set.

Julianne was coming to see that men in London society all belonged to some sort of set, and they
showed which one by the clothes they wore. She supposed it saved them time and effort. They didn’t have to say a word to let other men know what their conversation would be, and it made it simpler for a woman to decide if she was interested in anything more than conversation with them.

There were several members of the Dandy set at Sir Maurice’s house this night. There were even more gentlemen in dashing, but more casually cut clothing. Their jackets, though snug, were just loose enough to move their broad shoulders in, and their breeches were tight enough to show the muscles in their legs. Most of their faces were not fashionably pale, but lightly tanned, and those that still had their hair wore it in a short Brutus crop. Sophie told Julianne they were members of the sports-mad Corinthian set.

There were also a few long-haired young men wearing dandified clothes, but just rumpled enough to show they didn’t care for fashion as much as poetry. Sophie claimed there were even a few stars of the literary world here tonight at her soiree—Sir Maurice’s soiree, in fact. The old gentleman had agreed to host a party in order to introduce Hammond and Sophie to polite society.

Those men and others filled the baronet’s drawing room, and to Julianne’s amazement, many seemed interested in her. She decided it was because of how low her gown was, as well as because of her novelty. She was a stranger to them, and everyone else seemed to know each other.

“It is mid-Season,” Sophie had told Julianne before the party. “Half the unattached young women have
made their catches. But that leaves the other half free, and so who knows whom you might attach?”

Julianne hadn’t expected anyone to take an interest in her and was surprised and a little awed at first by how many gentlemen had. But she wasn’t shy for long; it wasn’t in her nature. Soon she’d had introductions to half a dozen gentlemen, all of whom promised they’d be calling on her.

“And so what have you done here in Town?” the exquisite gentleman she’d just met persisted.

Julianne decided to be kind, because for all his affects, the fellow really did have lovely blue eyes. They reminded her of someone she’d never see here tonight. “So far, I’ve seen the inside of a dozen dressmakers’ establishment…oops, I mean modistes,” she corrected herself. “But though I’d like to see more, I’ve been well entertained. We haven’t got modistes at home, you see…only dressmakers,” she added with a smile.

“I’d be happy to take you to see the sights,” he said.

“Oh, I wasn’t angling for that!” she exclaimed.

“I know,” he drawled. “Which is why I should like to. I must toddle on now. Whitworth is the name. Please don’t forget it. I’ll see you again, soon, I hope.” He bowed, and left her.

She wasn’t alone for long.

The rakish-looking young gentleman who had been eyeing her all evening appeared at her side. She was pleased to see he was just as attractive from near as he’d seemed from afar. He had a bold, strong face with remarkable cheekbones, and his mouth was full and sensual. His dark eyes danced with light as he
looked at her. “Bored to flinders yet?” he asked.