The Heiress In His Bed Page 11

  “One moment, madam,” said Julian, holding the banknote out of reach. “You were very long in coming, Miss Andrews. I trust you encountered no difficulties?”

  “I shouldn’t call it a difficulty,” she answered, fussing over one of the Persian lamb cuffs of her white leather coat. “One must expect delays when one is training a new girl. My maid had never packed a trunk before in her life! We had to do it several times over, but it’s all sorted now,” she added with a smile.

  “Is this really the time to be fastidious, Miss Andrews?” Julian wondered.

  Viola frowned at the implied criticism. “I suppose I am fastidious, Mr Devize, but I don’t care to see my gowns crushed. In any case, I’m ready to go now.”

  “Give me my money, young man,” said Mrs Dean, licking her lips. “That’s the bargain.”

  “Yes! Pay her and be done with it, Mr Devize,” Viola said coldly.

  Julian’s expression was pained as he handed over the cheque.

  “Anyone would think it was your money, Mr Devize,” said Mrs Dean.

  Julian laughed humorlessly.

  “Good-bye, Mary,” Mrs Dean went on, her eyes sparkling. “I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing! Seventeen thousand guineas!” Kissing her cheque repeatedly, she cackled with glee.

  Revolted, Viola took Julian’s arm firmly. “Get me out of here, Mr Devize, I beg you.”

  “Of course,” he murmured. “I have engaged a hackney.”

  Cork and Bijou were waiting for their mistress in the hall. Viola gave the manservant a threepenny piece to bring their luggage to the hackney carriage outside. It was quite dark when they left the house. Cork sat beside Viola in the carriage with Viola’s hatbox on her knee.

  Julian entered the carriage after seeing to the rest of the luggage. He signaled to the driver, and they were off. The carriage turned onto Oxford Street, traveling east. The traffic had lightened considerably, and they were able to travel at almost a country pace. They went along in silence, the two women seated opposite the gentleman.

  Viola, with Bijou snoozing contentedly in her lap, gazed steadfastly out of the dark window. She could feel Mr Devize’s eyes on her, but she could not look at him. Humiliated, she dreaded having to face her brother, too. Dickon did not often have the opportunity to lecture his clever sister on the foolishness of her behavior, and he was sure to make the most of the occasion. She would rather have gone straight back to Yorkshire to hide her shame.

  Now what? Julian thought. He had rescued Miss Andrews, but now what? He hadn’t given much thought to what might come after the auction. Now he had two women and a dog and no money to keep them. Worse than that, he had stolen seventeen thousand guineas from the Duke of Fanshawe, and if his crime were ever discovered, he might very well hang for it.

  Setting aside his own worries, he thought of Mary. Her chin was trembling as she looked out of the window. Obviously, she was too ashamed to look at him. How frightened and dejected she must be feeling right about now, he thought. He longed to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it without frightening her.

  “You won’t believe me,” he said, breaking the silence, “but when I left the City this afternoon, the traffic was so bad, I had to get out of my hack in Oxford Street and run to Portland Place. That’s why I was so late. Is the light too bright for your eyes?” he asked, concerned, as Viola cringed in her seat. “Shall I lower the lamp?”

  She shook her head. She looked utterly miserable.

  “It’s going to be all right, you know,” he said gently.

  She stole a glance at him. “He didn’t send his carriage for me?”

  “The duke? Er…no.”

  Julian bit his lip. Of course she thought he was taking her to her father’s patron, the Duke of Fanshawe. He hated to deceive her, even for a moment, but he could scarcely make a full confession in front of her servant.

  “I suppose he was afraid his crest would be recognized,” she sighed, still unable to meet Julian’s eyes. “Oh, Mr Devize! You must think me the biggest fool who ever lived!”

  “Not at all,” he answered. “You could not have known.”

  “Charity auction, indeed! How could I have been so stupid?” She shivered violently. “Those horrid, horrid men! And Mrs Dean! I never dreamed there were such people in the world, not even in London!”

  “You mustn’t blame yourself,” Julian said firmly. “You’re certainly not the first pretty girl to be taken in. I’m sorry I could not get you out sooner.”

  “If I had been sensible to the danger…!” Viola bit her lip in mortification. “If I had been sensible at all, I should never have been there. I should have stayed in Yorkshire with my fellow bumpkins! Mr Devize, it pains me to admit it, but I am a bumpkin!”

  He leaned across the seat and took her hand. “You are not a bumpkin. You could not have known, and—forgive me—I could not bring myself to tell you.”

  His warm, gentle voice and the touch of his hand comforted her more than anything he said. Although she was startled that he had dared to touch her, Viola did not withdraw her hand. The sudden urge to throw herself in his arms and cry like a baby startled her briefly, but she managed to suppress it.

  “I would not have believed you anyway,” she said. “I thought that you were the danger. Forgive me, Mr Devize. I ought to have trusted you.”

  “I had hoped to get you away from that place without your ever knowing the truth. I did not consider how my abrupt proposal must have seemed to you. I hope you trust me now?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said instantly, actually clinging to his hand. “Completely. And I will make sure that the duke knows it was not your fault I didn’t get away sooner. Indeed, I could not have gotten away to meet you last night, even if I had been sensible to the danger. My room was in the attic, and, after dark, Mrs Dean always locked me in.”

  “Thank God!”

  “Yes,” Viola agreed. “The lodgers made such noises! I’m sure they were drinking. Mr Devize, no one must ever find out that I was in a common boarding house.”

  The sudden change in his expression caused Viola fresh embarrassment. “It was not a boarding house at all, was it?” she groaned. “They were not lodgers. They were…Mr Devize, was I in a…a…?” Her courage failed her.

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  She drew her hands away from him as if they had suddenly burned her. “Oh, Mr Devize, I shall die if anyone finds out!” she moaned. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to bring charges against Mrs Dean?”

  “It would be worse for you than for her, I’m afraid. You would have to testify.”

  Viola shuddered. “Could you take me back to Yorkshire now?” she asked bleakly.

  He smiled. “That would not be possible, I’m afraid. Come now! You mustn’t let London get the better of you. You mustn’t give it the satisfaction. You must rally.”

  “London has gotten the better of me,” she said bitterly. “How they must have been laughing at me the whole time. ‘Look at the little Yorkshire bumpkin! Let’s tell her another whopping big lie and see how stupid she is!’”

  “This may surprise you, but I myself was cozened when I first came to London.”

  Viola stared at him in amazement. “You, Mr Devize? Oh, I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “It’s true,” he insisted. “When the war ended, I sold out of the army. My father wanted me to become a clergymen, but I knew better. I decided to take my money and give it to a London stockjobber. He promised to make me a fortune overnight. I never saw him—or my money—again. I know what you’re feeling right now, because I have felt it, too. But I rallied, and so will you. Look at me now,” he added, grinning. “Financial advisor to the Duke of Fanshawe. Dizzying heights!”

  Viola found herself smiling back at him. True or not, his confession had cheered her flagging spirits. “Is that how you became interested in stock trading, Mr Devize?” she asked.

&n
bsp; “I suppose so. Having no money of my own, I began to invest for others in a small way. Profits were laughable, my percentage minuscule, but I soon became addicted to the excitement.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said politely, unable to guess what he might find exciting about speculating with other people’s money. He didn’t even get to keep what he earned, poor man.

  “Then, one day, I met the Duke of Fanshawe at the Bank of England. He was being assaulted by the Bank Nun. I rescued him, and he became a client. I soon found that I could use large sums of money—his money—to manipulate the market, rather than be swept along in its wake. I’ve been having great fun ever since.”

  “Bank Nun?” she asked, intrigued.

  “London is full of odd characters, and Miss Whitehead may be one of the oddest. Her brother once worked in the Bank as a cashier, but he was hanged a few years back for forgery. Since then, she has haunted the place, importuning passersby for money.”

  Viola hid a smile. “Oh, Dickon wouldn’t like that.”

  Julian frowned. “Dickon?”

  “The duke,” Viola explained. “Did you never hear him called that?”

  “No,” Julian said, a little stiffly. “You must be on terms of some intimacy with his grace.”

  Viola giggled. “Well, of course I am!”

  “Oh, yes? I can’t help but wonder, Miss Andrews…How can it be that the daughter of a simple country vicar is on such terms with the Duke of Fanshawe?”

  “What?” Viola looked at him in confusion. Could it be possible that Mr Devize did not know she was really Lady Viola Gambol, the duke’s sister?

  “I realize that his grace gave your father the living at…at Gambolthwaite, was it? However, it seems excessive that you should address your father’s patron as ‘Dickon.’”

  Viola hid a smile. It appeared that handsome, clever Mr Devize did indeed think she was Miss Andrews. How surprised he would be when they got to Gambol House!

  “I’m not accusing you of any impropriety, Miss Andrews,” Julian went on, unable to guess her thoughts. “Not at all. And, as for the duke, he has never given me any reason to think ill of him. I’m only curious. It is a little strange.”

  “I have known the duke all my life,” Viola said, sticking scrupulously to the truth. “He knew my mother and father quite well. I have always regarded him as an elder brother, in fact. It seemed natural enough to call him Dickon.”

  “I see,” said Julian thoughtfully. “Your parents are both dead, then? And I have met your lovely aunt. Have you no other family? Is there no one else who can offer you a home?”

  “I have a home with the duke,” she pointed out mildly.

  “Besides the duke,” he said impatiently. “Forget about the duke for a moment. Have you any friends or acquaintance here in London?”

  “Besides the duke? And yourself?” Viola had to think. “Well, let’s see…Parliament is in session, is it not? Of course I know all the Yorkshire M.P.s. I write them each a letter once a week when Parliament is in session. They find my advice very helpful.”

  “I’m sure they do, Mary,” Julian said, barely concealing his amusement. “But that is not quite what I meant. I mean someone you know personally, someone respectable, someone who might be willing to, say, adopt you.”

  “Adopt me!” she laughed. “I’m twenty-one, Mr Devize. You will agree, that is a little old to be adopted.”

  His face became unreadable. “Twenty-one? Are you sure? Mrs Dean gave me to understand that you were a mere child of seventeen.”

  Her dark eyes twinkled. “Do I look like a child to you, Mr Devize? I am twenty-one.”

  “Then she lied. Shocking, isn’t it?” he said dryly. “But your father was the Vicar of Gambolthwaite? That is not a lie?”

  With a little ingenuity, Viola was able to answer truthfully. “I can assure you that Reverend Andrews was indeed the Vicar of Gambolthwaite, and a very respectable gentleman, despite his unfortunate sister.”

  “We’re just coming up on St Paul’s Cathedral now,” Cork suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

  Julian glanced out of the window. “Yes, we’re nearly there.”

  Viola frowned. She knew little of London geography, but she did know that St Paul’s was situated much farther to the east than the Strand. “This can not be the way to Gambol House, Mr Devize.”

  “We’re taking the long way, Mary,” Julian said. “To avoid the traffic. It’s a little farther, perhaps, but it will save time in the end.”

  Viola could easily accept his explanation, having had some experience of London traffic already. “I was set down very near to St Paul’s when I first arrived in London,” she told him presently. “At the Bell Savage Inn. Do you know it?”

  Julian frowned. “Busy place! I’m glad you had your maid with you, at least.”

  “Oh, no,” said Viola. “I left my maid in Yorkshire. I found Cork at the inn.”

  Julian’s eyes scanned the thin, young woman on the seat across from him. Unimpressed, he said, “What do you mean, you found her there? Was she lost?”

  Viola was certain that Mr Devize would think her a heroine when he learned she had rescued Cork from the horrible landlord of the Bell Savage Inn, but the young man saw the matter very differently. “You should have left her where you found her,” he said brutally. “How do you know you can trust her? I know you meant well, Mary, but, for God’s sake, how do you know this girl’s not a thief, or even a murderess?” He looked very stern.

  “A murderess! Cork?” Viola laughed.

  “No, I’m sure you’re not a murderess, Miss Cork,” Julian said quickly. “The point is, Mary, you can’t afford to go about taking in strays. Not in London. There are more bad people in London per square inch than anywhere else on earth. You’re not in Yorkshire anymore.”

  “I know I’m not in Yorkshire,” she said indignantly.

  “You’re surrounded by people who will cheat you and take advantage of you, given half a chance. My dear girl, I couldn’t bear it if you were harmed.”

  Viola hid a smile. “Oh, but I have you to look after me now, Mr Devize.”

  “True,” he said. “But I can’t be everywhere at once, you know.”

  “I shall be very careful,” Viola promised. “Indeed, I’ve learned my lesson. From now on, I shall trust no one but you, and suspect everyone else. I shall be on my guard at all times, and never go anywhere without a servant. Furthermore, I promise to keep my toasting fork with me at all times.” To his amusement, she took a silver fork out of her reticule and showed it to him, opening the telescoping handle. “See how sharp the tines are?”

  “Very handy, I’m sure,” he complimented her.

  Viola was pleased. “I thought so, when I was on the Night Mail. Oh, I never had to use it,” she added quickly. “I simply introduced it into the conversation, and all went quiet. I’m not completely helpless, you see, Mr Devize. You needn’t worry about me quite so much.”

  “You came to London on the Night Mail?” he said incredulously. “Poor darling! You must have been shaken to bits.”

  No one had ever called Lady Viola a poor darling before, but he sounded so tender and concerned, so sincere when he called her darling, that she felt uplifted rather than degraded.

  “It was a little tiring,” she said quickly, putting away her toasting fork. “But I managed. I must say, some of the creatures I encountered on the Night Mail were more gentlemanlike than the gentlemen I met in Portland Place! Oh, I don’t mean you, Mr Devize! I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Can you forgive me?”

  “You’re safe now,” he said quietly. “That is all that matters.”

  He spoke as if it were the end. Soon they would be at Gambol House and it would be the end, she realized. Her rank must separate them forever. “Could we not drive around a bit more?” she asked. “I don’t want to go to Gambol House just yet. I don’t know what I shall say to Dickon when I see him. Was he very shocked when you told him where you found me?”

  “I di
dn’t tell him,” Julian admitted. “The duke knows nothing about it whatsoever. He’s not even in Town at the moment.”

  Viola sat up straight. If true, this was the most amazing stroke of luck. “Not in Town!”

  “He was in London,” said Julian, “briefly, but now he’s gone back to Yorkshire with his future in-laws. His sister’s to be married, you know.”

  “Nothing is settled,” Viola said quickly.

  “Oh? Are you acquainted with Lady Viola as well her brother?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve known her ladyship for years and years. She’s one of those wonderful people that everyone loves. She’s one of the few people I really admire.”

  Julian was surprised. “Indeed? I hear she’s a bit of an oddity.”

  “Oddity!” Viola said angrily. “Who told you that?”

  “I gleaned as much from the duke’s description. She sounds like an ill-mannered brute. She throws soup at his head.”

  “Once,” Viola protested. “Mr Devize, would you say that I am an ill-mannered brute?”

  “I would say you are charming, Miss Andrews.”

  Viola felt her skin grow warm as he looked at her with appraising eyes. “So is Lady Viola charming,” she said sulkily. “She’s been slandered.”

  “She has been spoiled,” Julian argued. “I imagine her as an immense lady with several chins, too fat to get up from the sofa.”

  Viola gasped. “I’ll have you know, Mr Devize, that I wear Lady Viola’s clothes without alteration! As a matter of fact, this is one of her dresses!”

  “I daresay it looks better on you than it does on her,” he said.

  “Thank you, Mr Devize,” she said dryly. “But, you know, you must not take seriously everything the duke says. He has a big heart, but he’s not terribly clever. He needs a minder. Do you live with him at Gambol House?”

  Julian loosened his cravat with a finger. “Live at Gambol House? Oh, no. I live in the City, in Lombard Street. It’s a modest house, but convenient to the Exchange.”

  Viola looked down at the dog in her lap. “Too bad. I shall feel very lonely rattling around that great house by myself, Mr Devize,” she said slowly. “Since the duke is not in London, perhaps you should stay with me…as my guest. I do need looking after, as you know. And you are responsible for me until he gets back. At least, stay and dine with me,” she added persuasively as the hackney came to a sudden stop. “I hate to eat alone.”