The Valentine's Day Ball (19 page)

“Mrs. Brown?”

The woman dressed in unrelenting black curtseyed and came forward. “Yes, my lord,” she said in a deep, stringent voice.

“Mrs. Tucker?”

The other woman curtseyed and smiled. “Your servant, my lord. How may we help you?”

Devlin felt better already. With such calm, capable people helping, surely they would be able to protect Jane.

He indicated that they sit on the sofa and chose the chair himself. Pipkin remained by the fireplace.

“I suppose Pipkin has given you the bare facts, that Miss Lindsay may be in danger, and we must protect her.” They both nodded, their faces filled with determination. “Good, Mrs. Brown. Tell me what you can about the accident in the larder.”

She flushed at the unhappy memory. “Miss Lindsay was helping sort through last year’s canned goods. Sims was reading the labels on the top shelf while Miss Jane was on the floor, going through the ones on the bottom. I shouldn’t have let her do it. I should have been the one in there.”

The cook produced a capacious handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

“Please, Mrs. Brown, you shouldn’t blame yourself. I daresay Miss Lindsay insisted on helping.”

“Yes, m’lord, she always does,” she sniffed.

“You say Sims was working on the top shelf?”

“Yes, and then he left. When Miss Lindsay reached up and grabbed the shelf to right herself, it all came crashing down.”

“Pipkin, did you look at the wall afterwards?”

“Indeed I did, my lord.”

“What did the wall look like? Like the bolts had pulled out?”

“Why, no, my lord. Now that I think on it, the plaster was as neat as could be. Those bolts must have been loosened!”

“Perhaps. We should be wary of our Mr. Sims, at the very least. Now, Pipkin, I would like for you to question Mickey about the highwayman’s appearance. If our suspicions are correct, either Sims or Havelock was the robber. Perhaps Mickey noticed something that would give us a clue. Send word to me in town if he can help.”

“Lord Devlin,” said Mrs. Brown, “I just remembered—when you said Mr. Havelock’s name—he visited Miss Jane some time ago and brought her a box of chocolates. Miss Jane loves them, but she gave them to me to get rid of them. She always breaks out—”

“Emily!” said Tucker indignantly.

“Never mind, Mrs. Tucker,” said Drew, smiling at the maid. “Please go on, Mrs. Brown.”

“It’s probably nothing, but young Tom—he’s the potboy—he brought in a dead pigeon after I threw the sweets out in the yard. He swore it was the chocolates that killed it.”

The smile had long since faded from Drew’s face. He looked from one anxious face to another. They waited expectantly for his next words.

“I wish we had those sweets now; we could have them examined. But we don’t, so it’s still a guessing game. And perhaps I am all about in the head, but I fear I’m all too right. Miss Lindsay must not be left alone where the servant Sims is. Mrs. Brown, you must keep a close eye on any dishes prepared for Miss Lindsay. Once they leave your care, Pipkin will make certain no one tampers with them.”

“What do you want me to do, m’lord?”

“I know that Jane relies on you heavily, Mrs. Tucker. You’ve been with her for many years, I understand.”

“And with her mother before her.”

“Try to guide Miss Lindsay away from any invitations where she will be out alone at night. Or in the daytime, for that matter. You might suggest that the highwayman is still on the loose, and you would feel better about her if she took an extra footman with a loaded blunderbuss any time she leaves Heartland.”

“But what about riding? Miss Jane rides every day by herself, all over the estate.”

“I shall take care of that. I’m hiring someone who will follow her at a discreet distance whenever she goes out alone. When he isn’t there, I will be.

“Oh, yes, Pipkin. Will you speak to the gamekeeper about the man? I wouldn’t want this fellow getting shot for poaching.”

“Is there anything else, m’lord?” asked Pipkin.

“No, just keep your eyes open, and don’t hesitate to send for me if you feel there is the least cause.”

“Thank you, m’lord. I’m sure we all feel better knowing you are helping.”

“Believe me, Pipkin, I feel the same about the three of you.”

b

Jane and Drew’s mother returned to Bath just in time for tea. As Jane accepted the older woman’s invitation, she wondered if Drew would be present. She had not long to wonder, for there he was in the parlour, his nose in a book. He stood up when he heard them enter.

“Did you enjoy yourselves, ladies?”

“It is a beautiful scene, Drew. You should have Jane take you up there sometime,” said Faith, a slight smile curving her lips.

Drew grinned at his mother. “Perhaps I shall. Thank you for showing Mother the countryside, Jane.”

“It was my pleasure. And informative for me, also. I learned a great deal about you.”

“A day of tedium!” He laughed. “Mother, do tell me you didn’t drone on about me the whole time.”

“I think now would be a good time to go upstairs and refresh myself before tea. Jane?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Good. Oh, Drew, do ring for tea. I won’t be a moment!” Faith winked before gliding from the room.

“Won’t you sit down, Jane?” Drew walked across the room and pulled the bell.

“Thank you.”

He rejoined her on the sofa. “Now, what could Mother possibly have told you about me that was interesting?”

“Only that you plan to have a go at the government when you become an earl.”

“Oh, that. Well, I intend to see if I can lend my support where it will do some good. Things aren’t working the way they are now.”

“I think that’s very noble of you. If only more of the nation’s influential people would take an interest.”

“I couldn’t agree more. But it may be years before I have a chance to put my plan in force. As mean as my uncle is, I fear he won’t oblige me by dying any time soon.”

“Drew!”

“Ah, I have shocked you again. But why should I pretend an affection for a man who has made my life miserable a
t
every turn?”

“I suppose you’re right, but one simply doesn’t voice such a thought in polite society.”

“I thought you and I were beyond the polite niceties, Jane,” he said softly.

Fortunately for Jane, who was transfixed by his steady gaze, the butler entered with the tea tray. Mrs. Peterson followed on his heels.

After pouring everyone’s tea, Drew’s mother picked up the book he had laid aside:
Pride and Prejudice
by A Lady.

“An excellent novel, Mother. Much better than the ordinary drivel, I’m told. You would enjoy it.”

“I didn’t even know you read novels, Drew,” commented his mother.

“I haven’t before, but I was given this one and decided to try it.”

“I read somewhere that the author resides in Bath.” said Jane.

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Perhaps you are acquainted with the models for her characters, Jane?” teased Drew.

“No, I don’t think so. However, I might guess you were the model for Mr. Darcy. If I remember correctly, you would fit his physical description.”

“Foul, my dear! The novel was written sixteen years prior to its publication date. I was far too young at the time. Do you find me as arrogant as Mr. Darcy?”

“Not very often, Drew. At least, not as often as I used to do.”

“Mother! Are you going to allow this?” He laughed.

“Needs must, my dear. I haven’t read the book. Now, do quit squabbling. It isn’t good for the digestion.”

“Yes, Mother,” said Drew with mock docility.

Jane remained longer than the prescribed thirty minutes, owing to the excessively hot temperature of the tea, of course. It took much too long to cool, and she simply didn’t care to add milk to speed the process.

Though it was dusk before she left them, Jane didn’t notice the coolness of the evening. She continued to feel wrapped in the cosy warmth of the yellow salon at Laura Place.

b

When Jane returned from her visits, Mickey was loitering in the hallway. He smiled bashfully when she spoke to him.

“Did you want to talk to me, Mickey? Or were you waiting for Mr. Pipkin?”

“You, Miss Jane.”

“I see. Why don’t we go into the study?”

When he stood awkwardly before her, Jane prompted, “What did you wish to tell me, Mickey?”

“I saw that Lord Devlin today.”

“Today? I think you mean yesterday, Mickey. Lord Devlin and I went riding yesterday.”

“No, Miss Jane. It was today. It was when I went out with Sims to find some berries for Mrs. Brown. I had to go with him because he doesn’t know where to look. So we left, and I saw Lord Devlin waiting in the woods.”

“Waiting?” Jane’s brow creased with puzzlement.

“Yes, Miss Jane. I didn’t tell anybody, not after that highwayman the other day. Why would he be watching you leave?”

“So it was while I was leaving,” she murmured.

Mickey nodded. “Did I do right to tell you, Miss Jane?”

“Indeed you did, Mickey,” she said, smiling as she dismissed him. Before he left the room, she said quietly, “Mickey, don’t tell anyone else about this. Promise?”

“Yes, Miss Jane. I promise. And if I see ’im again, I’ll come and tell you.”

“Good, Mickey. Thank you.”

Jane remained in the study for the next hour, ostensibly working on the household ledgers. In reality, her mind was occupied with the puzzle Mickey had presented to her.

Why would Lord Devlin watch for her departure? And where had he gone afterwards? Had he followed her? She didn’t think so. Her groom had been with her, and he would have noticed someone trailing after them, even if she hadn’t.

And she didn’t believe Drew was so infatuated with her that he couldn’t bear the thought of four and twenty hours passing without setting eyes on her. Why then, did he observe her movements? An ugly suspicion flashed across her mind, but she dismissed it. But, thought Jane, it was disturbing that Mickey’s story should make her recall his suggestion of danger. She had scoffed at the idea of someone trying to harm her at the time, but that tiny grain of uncertainty had remained.

Wearily, Jane acknowledged that she would be wise to be cautious. She rose and went to the window to stare at the peaceful landscape with unseeing eyes. Impatiently, Jane twitched the curtains closed and left the room.

b

A week later, Drew felt rather foolish when he contemplated all the measures taken to ensure Jane’s safety. Despite his best efforts, she had twice wandered away without anyone knowing. The Bow Street Runner, an older man named Wilbur Bailey, had stationed himself on one side of the massive house, commanding a view of the stables and the front drive. But on the other side of the house, the library’s French doors allowed anyone to exit without being detected. This, Mr. Bailey told the viscount, made his job impossible.

Still, Drew’s precautions enabled him to sleep nights. Tucker had reported that, at her request, Jane began to take a groom with her any time she drove out or went riding.

Drew didn’t question why Jane had fallen in with this suggestion so readily. Pipkin kept an eye on Sims, and Mrs. Brown made certain Jane’s meals went directly from her safe hands to the table. He had done all he could to keep her safe.

b

“They’re on t’ us, Mr. Havelock.”

“The devil, you say Sims! How could they be?”

“I don’t know, sir. That Lord Devlin’s always hangin’ around. I saw ’im comin’ toward the stables yesterday, out of the woods beside the house.”

“What of it?”

“That’s th’ second time I’ve seen ’im doin’ that. So last night, when everyone was asleep, I sneaked out there and guess what I saw!”

“Tell me, man!” said Havelock, sweat beginning to rim his fat jowls.

“There was this man sleepin’ in th’ woods. He’s all comfortable like with a fire an’ food, a little tarp set up t’ keep th’ rain off
.
”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know for sure, Mr. Havelock, but my guess is Bow Street.”

“A Runner,” breathed Havelock, his face turning white.

“That’s my guess. And I think Lord Devlin is behind ’is bein’ there. Plus the fact that I’m never left to my own devices any more. Finding a time to get away ’ere was almost impossible.”

“You made sure you weren’t followed, didn’t you?”

“Of course, I did. But what do you want me t’ do now?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. And I shall go away for a time.”

“I say, ye’re not goin’ t’ leave me there? What with that looby of a footman, Mickey, and that Bible-quoting butler, I’m ready to murder the whole lot of ’em!”

“Restrain yourself, Sims. For the time being, anyway, don’t worry. I won’t forget about you.”

“No, you don’t dare forget about me,” mumbled Sims.

“Here now! I’ve paid you well, plus what you’re earning working Heartland.”

“Yes, but it’s not like it is in London, is it? In London, there were all sorts of ways to get me ’ands on a spot o’ money.”

“Someday, Sims, you shall have all the money you need. I’ll make you my estate manager—someday.”

b

Three weeks passed. Nothing untoward occurred, and the Bow Street Runner was inclined to disbelieve there was a danger. Bailey never relaxed his vigilance but as he told Drew, “Ain’t nothin’ t’ see.”

Drew was more often in Jane’s company, but they were never alone. Even when they went riding, the groom accompanied them. Drew didn’t ask Jane why this was so. He assumed Jane followed her maid’s advice. Since he kept such a close watch over her and tried to keep her ignorant of the surveillance, he felt doubly responsible for her. If anyone suspected how often he was in or about Heartland, Jane’s reputation would be in shreds. So, he often took his mother or invited Jane to Bath to join a group of friends at cards, attend the assemblies, and once, even to go to the Pump Room.

If Drew had paused to consider the nature of their relationship, he might have been puzzled by Jane’s behaviour toward him, especially if one recalled their previous stormy encounters—encounters that often included fire and passion.

b

Jane was content with the comfortable friendship she and Drew had found. She was more than willing to forego passion—it was much too disturbing to her peace of mind. Their more relaxed relationship helped her to trust him and to trust her judgement of him. After all, Jane was accustomed to male friends—it was only the passionate suitors she had come to mistrust over the years.

It had been the idea of Drew paying court to her that was so disturbing. Drew didn’t fit into the two categories of her past suitors—fortune hunter or social climbing cit. Then she received a letter from her friend in London, which upheld Drew’s claim to personal wealth. Sally had been quite emphatic—Lord Devlin was as rich as Golden Ball in his own right, never counting what he would inherit with his title, Earl of Cheswick. And socially, he would raise her to his level, not the other way around.

This tidbit of information would have gladdened the heart of a more self-centred lady. But to Jane, the news was unsettling. If Drew wasn’t a fortune hunter, then why was he at such pains to make love to her? Could he truly love her? Jane didn’t dismiss the idea, but she was unable to accept this unequivocally. The possibility that he was merely trying to win her approval to buy Heartland was doubtful. She was sure he had accepted defeat on that question. Lurking in the back of her mind, the thought that he wished to do her harm seemed too ludicrous to examine.

So Jane welcomed the cooling of their relationship to friendship. This was something she could accept from him. Late at night, when trying to arrange the covers for sleep, perhaps she allowed herself to miss his kisses, but her life was certainly more calm…normal.

Under Drew’s subtle nurturing, Jane’s social role changed. She had always been the consummate guest or hostess at any social event, but she looked in disdain at what she termed
silly flirtation
. Her own manner had been perpetually reserved. Now, she laughed more easily, and she even flirted with Drew’s friends. Giles Stanton demanded at least two dances at each assembly or ball, and Farley began to neglect the card room and its libations in order to fetch her punch or other refreshments. Drew silently watched, a slight smile curving his lips.