The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress (15 page)

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“In point of fact, most of the remaining items on your great-aunt’s list are dangerous, scandalous, and childish.”

“Are they?” she said in a deceptively calm manner. He ignored it.

“They are indeed. These escapades of yours are bound to end badly.” He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, although he certainly meant them. “Therefore, as a representative of my employer and because you are without the sensible influence of a father, brother, husband, or fiancé . . .” A voice in the back of his head screamed for him to shut up but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I must take it upon myself to insist you cease this ludicrous quest of yours at once.”

“And you are speaking for the gentlemen in my life, are you?”

“I’m certain if they were here—”

“But they are not here, Mr. Fairchild. And simply because one has hired you does not mean you may speak in his stead.”

“Perhaps not, but as we have become friends—”

She snorted.

“—I feel it’s my duty, my responsibility if you will, to stop you from this course you have so blithely set for yourself before it’s too late. Before you have become mired in scandal and indiscretion and who knows what else.”

“Your responsibility is to save me from myself?”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes, that’s not entirely inaccurate. I don’t want to see you make a mistake that will affect the rest of your life!”

“And you are the judge of such things?”

“Yes! Bloody hell, Lucy, whether you like it or not, I, and every other man, are indeed the judge of such things!”

She chose her words with care. “I do appreciate you not wanting me to make a mistake but unfortunately I have already made at least one.”

He scoffed. “Just one?”

“When I suggested you accompany us rather than slink from doorway to doorway in a futile effort to avoid my notice . . .” She smiled pleasantly. “I see now that was a mistake. One I intend to rectify immediately.” Her tone hardened. “I suggest you leave, Mr. Fairchild, and do not bother returning. You may consider our agreement terminated. We no longer require your accompaniment. Miss West and I will be fine on our own.”

He stared. Surely she wasn’t throwing him out? “But—”

“Now.” Her smile didn’t slip for so much as a moment, but her blues eyes flared with anger.

“But—” But what? “It’s cold outside.”

“Then you should dress warmly as you lurk in the streets wondering what
escapade
I shall embark upon next. Where we are going. What I intend to do. Even”—a smug smile curved her lips—“which door we are using to leave the house.”

“Very well,” he snapped. “But don’t for a minute think I will shirk my responsibilities simply because you are making me uncomfortable.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Fairchild. You have now made it all much more of a challenge. It’s going to be a great deal of fun outwitting you, although I can’t imagine it will be all that difficult.”

He was too angry to think of a coherent response. “Good evening, Miss Merryweather.”

“Good evening, Mr. Fairchild. Do try not to lose any necessary body parts to the freezing cold.”

“Miss Merryweather!” Good Lord. What kind of woman said such a thing?

“I should have known the first time you sputtered that you had a tendency to be stuffy.”

“I most certainly do not,” he said in a haughty manner that rivaled any tone his father might have taken. Damnation, the blasted woman was turning him into his father. “I shall try my best to survive the elements, Miss Merryweather. Thank you for your concern.” He nodded and took his leave.

The instant the sharp cold night hit him he realized he had indeed overstepped. He should have been smarter. He should have kept his mouth shut. He never should have let his own sense of responsibility turn him into the protector she had assumed him to be. He never should have let these feelings of, well, affection overcome his own goals. But damn it all, she believed his job was to keep her safe and keep her safe he would. Whether she liked it or not.

And realized as well it was indeed damnably cold outside.

 

 

“What happened?” Clara said the moment she stepped into the parlor and closed the doors behind her.

“Weren’t you listening at the door?”

“That was my original intention, but that blasted butler didn’t take his eyes off me, so I was forced to simply pace in the corridor.” Clara huffed in exasperation. “Well?”

“I threw him out.” Lucy shrugged.

Clara’s eyes widened. “Permanently?”

“That very much depends on him.”

“You threw him out because . . . ?”

“Because he was acting like my father or one of my brothers or Jackson.” Lucy clenched her jaw. “And he has no right to do so.”

“I see.” Clara paused. “And if he did have that right?”

“Clara.” Lucy met the other woman’s gaze firmly. “I have spent my entire life behaving exactly as I was expected to behave. Which includes bowing to the wishes and guidance of the men in my life. These last few weeks have been, well, liberating I suppose. I am an adult with financial security and my own mind. I see no reason to bow to the wishes of any gentleman ever again.”

“How very . . . progressive of you.”

“It doesn’t feel especially progressive. But it does feel right.”

Clara nodded. “And where does that leave you and Mr. Fairchild?”

“I’m afraid there is no me and Mr. Fairchild.”

“But you would like there to be.”

It would be silly to lie. Clara wouldn’t believe her anyway. Lucy sighed. “Perhaps.”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I do. Very much.” Lucy was still shocked by just how much. “And I’m fairly certain he likes me. But . . .”

“But?”

“But I don’t know that I can care for a man I don’t completely trust. And while I do feel that he is quite trustworthy, as I am a far better judge of character than he, there is still the matter of whatever it is he’s hiding.” Resolve hardened her voice. “And why.”

“I see.”

“Furthermore, I am not at all pleased to be accused of lying by a man who is so obviously not revealing the complete truth himself. A question that becomes more and more interesting all the time. One does have to wonder why a man who has to work for a living is present at an exclusive gentlemen’s club looking very much like a guest or a member.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Clara murmured. “So what happens now that you have divested us of Mr. Fairchild’s company?”

“Now we continue on with our plans and wait for Mr. Fairchild to apologize.”

“You think he will?”

“I know he will. We have already established he is not who or what he appears. But the man is definitely a gentleman, Clara. And, as he conducted his initial surveillance so poorly that I noticed him almost at once, we can surmise as well he is fairly new to the world of private inquiry. As such he would hate to fail on what is so obviously one of his first assignments. Besides, I have a strong suspicion that he is an honorable man. He has taken payment to provide a service and he will feel honor bound to provide that service. Beyond that . . .” She smiled. “Mr. Fairchild does not like the cold.”

“Tell me, Lucy.” Lady Dunwell, Beryl, sat on the sofa in the Channing House parlor and sipped her tea. “Are you familiar with
Cadwallender’s Daily Messenger
?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Lucy thought for a moment. “Although I have become quite fond of
Cadwallender’s Weekly Ladies World
since I’ve been in England.”

Beryl had called on Lucy shortly after Clara had left on an errand. Her visit was a welcome respite from Lucy’s constant perusal of the street outside Channing House in a futile search for a tall, dashing figure lurking in the shadows. If Cameron was there, his skills in surveillance had vastly improved, although she doubted it. It was already afternoon and she had fully expected him to make an appearance before now, hat in hand, well-phrased apology on his lips. Or baring that, lurking outside in the shadowed doorways and stairwells that lined the street.

“Is it a newspaper?”

“It is.” Beryl nodded. “And a most salacious one at that. Full of gossip and scandal and innuendo. In spite of that, no
because
of that”—Beryl smiled in a wicked manner—“I simply adore the
Messenger
and read it every morning. It’s most entertaining as well as informative and a far more interesting way to start the day than with the
Times
.”

“I can well imagine,” Lucy said absently. As much as Lucy was fascinated by Jackson’s cousin and did want to know her better, it was hard to keep her attention from straying.

One would think Cameron would have seen the error of his arrogant ways after a night’s rest, but perhaps the man needed more time. Men were such an unreasonable lot.

“It also runs the most compelling fictional stories.”

“I shall have to read it then.” Lucy smiled politely.

“Yes, you should.” Beryl studied her closely. “Especially since I believe a current series of stories is about you.”

“Me?” Lucy stared. “What on earth do you mean?”

“I could be wrong, of course.” Beryl pulled a handful of clippings from her bag and handed them to Lucy. “Before he left, Jackson told me there were things a relative had regretted not doing in her life that you were now determined to do.”

“I don’t know what that has to do with this.” Lucy paged through the clippings.
“The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress
?
”
She glanced up at Beryl and grinned. “I would like to be a runaway heiress having daring exploits, but why do you think this is about me?”

“For one thing the heiress is American, from Philadelphia, I believe.”

“But I’m from New York.”

Beryl waved away the comment. “Goodness, dear, here in London no one cares where in America she is from, nor will anyone note it. The only pertinent fact is that she is American.”

“Still, I’m sure I’m not the only American heiress in England at the moment.”

“I doubt there are many others on a quest.”

“What kind of quest?” Lucy asked slowly.

“It’s something of a hunt, really. Miss Mercy Heartley—that’s the heroine’s name—must find a series of objects detailed in the will of a late relative. Once she retrieves all the objects, she will earn the right to her inheritance and she can then be independent.” Beryl’s brow drew together. “I’m not sure I have all the details right, the plot does seem overly complicated, but it’s something like that.”

Lucy stared for a moment, then laughed. “That’s not at all what I’m doing.”

Beryl reached over and tapped the clippings with her finger. “But there are distinct similarities.”

“Well, yes, I suppose there are. Both the fictional Miss Heartley and myself are from America and we are both trying to accomplish something here, but her purpose is to achieve her inheritance. I am already financially independent. Nor have I run away.” She ignored the thought that her family might think differently, but really she hadn’t run away. She’d already been in England when she had decided to make up for her great-aunt’s regrets. “Beyond that, there are very few people who know of my plans and those who do can be trusted to be discreet.” She shrugged. “I really don’t think it’s anything more than coincidence.”

“Possibly.” Beryl heaved a disappointed sigh. “Then you’re not having daring exploits?”

Lucy laughed. “I’m afraid not.” She paused. “But I am having some interesting adventures.”

“
Interesting adventures
does not sound nearly as much fun as
daring exploits,
but I suppose one takes what one can. Do these interesting adventures have to do with your great-aunt’s regrets?” she asked casually.

“Jackson didn’t tell you what was on her list of regrets, did he?”

“No, the blasted man did not.” Beryl’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “While he did tell me about the list—he did have to make my role as erstwhile guardian palatable after all—he said he couldn’t remember the exact details.”

Lucy laughed. “He didn’t tell you because he didn’t know.”

“He certainly concealed that pertinent fact. In spite of his lack of knowledge, or perhaps because of it, he was concerned about your becoming embroiled in scandal or worse. I told him it was really none of his business, and certainly none of mine. Still, I did agree to be here should you need me.”

“And for that you have my gratitude.” Lucy stood up and crossed the room to fetch the list of Lucinda’s desires from the drawer in the side table, then returned to her seat. “Would you like to see the list?”

Beryl scoffed. “Of course I would. It’s been all I could do to keep from asking outright. One does try to be polite, you know.” Beryl accepted the list from Lucy and studied it. “I assume the check marks are for those you have already accomplished.” She looked up, her eyes wide. “Dare I ask which gentlemen’s club you managed to breach?”

Lucy grinned. “It’s probably best that I not disclose that.”

“Probably. I might be tempted to mention it when I find some member of said club says something annoying in the course of casual conversation at some event or other.” Beryl’s attention returned to the list. “One can see why Jackson thought it was necessary to have someone watch over you,” she said under her breath. “I knew the man was smarter than he appeared.” Beryl continued to study the page before her.

“Well?” Lucy held her breath.

“Well . . .” Beryl looked up, her eyes twinkling. “These are delightful, simply delightful. What a perfect excuse for improper behavior. I should have thought of it myself. Do you intend to accomplish all of these?”

Lucy nodded. “As many as I can before I am forced to return home.”

“You do realize some of them will be impossible? At this time of year, frolicking in a fountain or swimming naked in the moonlight is extremely ill advised.”

Lucy grinned. “Those may have to wait until spring.”

“Do you plan to take a lover then?”

“Well . . .” Lucy still wasn’t certain how she felt about that particular regret along with the one about a romantic liaison. “I don’t plan not to. After all, I am nearly twenty-four and the likelihood of marriage does grow slimmer. That is to say I’m not especially opposed to taking a lover.” Good Lord, it was hard to sound like a woman of the world when one wasn’t.

Beryl’s brow arched. “You’ve never had a lover, have you?”

“Not exactly.”

“My dear girl, there is no
not exactly
about it. Either you have or you haven’t.” Beryl eyed her knowingly. “And I would wager you haven’t. Nor, would I imagine, do you have a great deal of experience with men.”

“I have been kissed.” Lucy grimaced. “But no, I’ve never had a lover and I’m not sure how I would go about finding one suitable or even if I want one, really.” She leaned toward Beryl and lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “It does seem that is a door that once walked through, cannot be walked through again.”

“Indeed.” Beryl’s tone was somber but there was a definite gleam of amusement in her eyes. “Therefore one should hesitate, or at least give due consideration, before crossing that particular threshold.”

“Absolutely.” Lucy nodded. “And I did learn my lesson from kissing a stranger. That sort of thing can’t be planned. I mean you can’t simply point at a man and say, ‘He’ll do.’ ”

“I do know all sorts of gentlemen who would be more than willing . . .” Beryl wrinkled her nose. “Although, I suppose that is not at all what Jackson had in mind when he requested my looking out for you.”

Lucy laughed. “I would think not.”

“However, I can help you with some of these if you like. For one thing, you are supposed to dance with a prince. I know several princes and more than a few pretenders.” She thought for a moment. “It is a dreadfully slow time of year unfortunately, but there is a ball the day after tomorrow given by the ambassador of some tiny little country in the Balkans, I think, and I am fairly certain an Austrian prince I am acquainted with will be in attendance.”

“That would be perfect.” Lucy beamed.

“Excellent. Now then, as for some of these other items . . .”

By the time Beryl took her leave, she and Lucy had come up with several good ideas and quite a few that were completely absurd. Even so, Beryl’s visit did serve to take Lucy’s mind off Cameron’s absence.

It was entirely possible the man had taken her at her word and was not going to return. It was for the best, really. Nip this thing—whatever it was—right in the bud before it went any further. After all, it was no more than some amusing conversation, a few shared adventures, and two mere kisses, one of which was no more than adequate. The other . . . She could still feel the press of his lips against hers, the tingle that suffused her at his touch, and the heretofore unknown desire that had curled her very toes. She couldn’t wipe the memory of that kiss, or the memory of his smile and his laugh and even the way he sputtered in indignation, from her thoughts. The annoying man had invaded her every waking moment and most of her dreams as well. Dreams that were far more intimate than her waking life had ever been.

No, it was definitely for the best that this end before it went too far. Before she did something terribly ill advised. Before she let all these new feelings he aroused in her overcome her good judgment. Before she did something really foolish.

Before she fell in love.

 

 

“. . . and now I don’t know how to proceed.” Cam paced the floor of Phineas’s flat, not as easy as it had been on his last visit. Phineas was apparently taking advantage of Miss West’s absence to return to his beloved state of disorder. “I tell you I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I can hardly think well enough to put pen to paper.”

“As this only happened last night”—Phineas chuckled—“I can hardly wait to see your state a week from now.”

“A week?” Cam scoffed. “I shall surely be mad in a week. I cannot allow this to continue. I must do something.”

“I see.” Phineas studied his friend silently.

“I could use more than that.” Cam glared at the other man. “A bit of advice from a disinterested bystander would be appreciated.”

“I’m not the least bit disinterested.” Phineas smiled. “In fact, I find this all most amusing.”

“I’m glad someone is amused,” Cam snapped.

“Very well then. In gratitude for that amusement I will give you the benefit of my opinion on this matter.” Phineas settled deeper in the wing chair and considered the question. “But I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

“I rarely do,” he said sharply. “Go on.”

“It seems to me that you have all you need from Miss Merryweather.”

Cam stopped in midstep. “All I need?”

“Your original purpose was to use her as your inspiration for your stories for the
Messenger
and the compilation of those stories into a book. You now know about the list of her late relative’s regrets, you’ve witnessed firsthand her attempts to rectify some of those, and you’ve taken that information and spun it into stories loosely based on your observations.” He chuckled. “And might I add, I do appreciate the name of your fictional heiress. Miss Mercy Heartley is very nearly an anagram for Miss Lucy Merryweather.”

“It would have been perfect if not for an extra
R
and that damn
U
and
W
,” Cam muttered.

“But no one else will ever realize it. You’ve gone to great pains to make certain her identity is concealed so she’ll not be harmed by your actions.” Phineas shrugged. “Your stories are practically writing themselves. You were looking for inspiration and you have been inspired. So, as I said, at this point you no longer need her.”

Cam stared.

“Therefore whether she wants you around or not is immaterial. You have what you wanted. I say you extricate yourself from this web of deception you’ve spun while you still can. There’s no need to continue this charade of yours.”

“No need.” Cam snorted. “There’s every need. You don’t know her, Phineas. She’s remarkably stubborn and reckless—”

“And yet still clever enough to have managed quite a few of the items on her great-aunt’s list.”

“Oh, she’s smart, she’s very smart. She has a diabolical mind hidden beneath that blond hair and those sapphire eyes, and all that pleasantry. Her intelligence is not in question, but she’s been lucky thus far. Very lucky.” His jaw clenched. “That luck cannot last forever. She needs someone to watch over her. To make certain this quest of hers does not ruin her life.”

Phineas quirked a brow. “Does she?”

“Without question. The very thought of those things that still remain undone on her great-aunt’s list . . .” Cam shuddered at the thought of
romantic interludes
and
taking a lover
. “Left to her own devices she will surely come to ruin. I cannot allow that.”

“Why? She’s not your responsibility.”