A Sham Engagement (The Mismatched Lovers #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

P ortland Place had never looked so welcoming, although rather worryingly a carriage stood in the street outside, the driver’s shoulders draped in a thick blanket against the cold. A wave of relief that they’d made it back unmolested washed over Elenora as they approached the front doors. As if their return had been foreseen, these doors swung open and Alcock appeared, haloed in bright light but managing, nevertheless, to look very harassed. As well he might. Behind him loomed the unmistakably upright figure of Lady Amberley, her expression heavy with approbation.

Oh no. Not Jack’s mother. What on earth was she doing here at this time of night? But Elenora had met more intimidating people tonight than she’d ever imagined possible, and even though she no longer required a pistol to deal with this one, determination rose in her heart. Whatever Lady Amberley had to say, she could face it. She tucked the aforesaid pistol away in her reticule, in case Lady Amberley might think she intended to shoot her with it.

Jack stood back and allowed Elenora to pass inside in front of him, then carried Edward into the wide front hallway. Jolyon and Matthew, sober-faced now, probably at the sight of Lady Amberley’s expression, sidled in behind them, keeping well back as though afraid of entering the line of fire. Their pistols had also vanished into some inner pockets of their great coats.

“My lord! Miss Wetherby.” Alcock’s voice held a mixture of the same relief Elenora felt and a strong degree of remonstration. A little more than one would expect from a butler, but then, he’d probably had an extremely trying evening.

A further reason for his discomfiture emerged from the door on the right hand side. A portly man in a slightly shabby blue coat and carrying a walking stick emerged, his unusual white top hat tucked under his arm. Behind him followed four more fellows, all in drab navy blue uniforms from top to toe, apart from their black boots and hats. Elenora needed no telling that these were the Bow Street Runners Jack had sent for before their departure.

The portly gentleman made a bow. “John Townsend from Bow Street, at your service, milord.” His gaze fastened on little Edward still cradled in his father’s arms. “Although it looks to me like you’ve righted this problem for yourself.”

Lady Amberley snorted her disapproval, rather like a bull preparing to charge. “Jack.” That one word from her held many things: disapproval, enquiry, anger, surprise, and annoyance that someone had stolen her thunder by making such a dramatic entry on the scene.

Jack set Edward on the tiled floor and the little boy immediately reached out a hand and caught hold of Elenora’s skirts, much as his father had done in the library in what felt like another world. Only Edward was wary, not commanding. “Don’t leave me.” He buried his face in the dirty fabric. Was he hiding from his grandmother? Her frosty demeanor was not at all welcoming, so he couldn’t be blamed if he was. Elenora hadn’t known either of her own grandmothers but, at a guess, Lady Amberley was not the most openly affectionate of women where small boys were concerned.

What to say to Edward? She’d never been beseeched in such imploring tones and her heart, unused to feeling like this, went out to the little boy. Her sisters would never have dared appeal to her like this. They knew all too well her lack of emotional response, her ‘thoughtlessness’ as they put it. Which was unfair, as in reality it wasn’t that she didn’t feel anything, but far more that she found it impossible to show what she did feel. Too awkward. Too embarrassing if she got it wrong. Best to err on the side of no reaction at all.

But with Edward it was different. She’d just have to shove aside everything she’d known until now, every impulse telling her she couldn’t be a source of comfort for a child, and rise to the occasion. Because Lady Amberley certainly wasn’t about to fill that role just now, and Edward needed someone.

She bent and put her arms around him. “I won’t leave you, don’t worry. Let’s get you upstairs to the nursery. And Alcock can organize something nice for you to eat, and a hot drink too. You must be starving. And I rather think a bath would be in order.” She wouldn’t look at Lady Amberley’s forbidding face. She wouldn’t. But, out of the corner of her eye she could see how that formidable lady had fixed her son with a gimlet glare. However old you got, it seemed, you were not above your mother giving you a telling off.

“Will someone please explain to me what is going on?” her ladyship’s voice cut through the atmosphere in the hall like a well-sharpened knife as she glared at Jack. “Your servants tell me you have been into the slums. Mr. Townsend here tells me you sent for his Runners after my grandson was kidnapped.”

She threw a glance at Edward, his face now against Elenora’s shoulder as she knelt before him. “And to top it all, you took your betrothed, Miss Wetherby, with you into the slums. A young lady of respectable birth. Unchaperoned.” Her gaze fell on Jolyon and Matthew. “And who, pray, are these two… gentlemen?” She sounded very much as though she wasn’t sure that was what they were, as their originally smart apparel had been much dirtied by their flight through the backstreets.

Jolyon made a flamboyant bow, and Matthew followed suit. “Jolyon Wetherby, Lady Amberley, at your service. And this is my brother, Matthew.” He hesitated before evidently deciding that more of an explanation was needed. “Elenora is our sister.”

Elenora gathered Edward, who was a tidy weight, into her arms and stood up. “I’m taking Edward up to bed.”

No one seemed to be taking any notice of her.

Lady Amberley’s gaze, still on Jolyon and Matthew, sharpened. “And how did you come to partake in whatever this expedition has entailed?” Her elegant nose wrinkled. “For it is quite evident that wherever you have been it was not somewhere clean.”

Jack appeared, for the moment, to have been struck dumb. Unusual for him. Did he go in awe of his mother as Jolyon and Matthew did with Mama? Papa too, if truth be told. Lady Amberley seemed keen to prove herself as forceful as Lady Wetherby.

Edward, now reassured that his new friend wasn’t about to abandon him, seemed to have recovered some confidence. He put his arm around her neck, drawing her closer so he could whisper. “You’re right. I’m starving. I haven’t had my supper. And that horrible man said I didn’t need any when I asked. He said I was fat.” His voice rose in indignation at the insult, but he also gave a little shiver at the memory. “Can I have hot cocoa?” His small hand was sticky and hot on her neck and made her want to twitch away his touch. She suppressed the urge. He was only a child. A child who’d undergone a terrible experience. She mustn’t let her foibles upset him when he needed comfort. And besides, it wasn’t so bad as all that.

“Of course, you shall have hot cocoa. I’d like some myself. It’s a great restorative after an adventure such as the one you’ve had. I’m sure your cook is still up and can make us some.” Perhaps she could make his ordeal sound as though it hadn’t been so bad. Cast it in the light of a boyish adventure. If she was lucky.

A reassuring twinkle sparkled in his eyes. “And can I have cake, too?”

She nodded with vigor. “As much as you like. In fact, you shall have whatever you wish. Alcock can go and tell them in the kitchen.”

Lady Amberley tapped her finely shod foot. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

Jack stowed his sword stick in the stand by the door, along with one or two walking sticks. “Mother, this is nothing to do with you. What are you even doing here this late at night?”

“Lady Dandridge sent me a message regarding her niece.” Lady Amberley directed a meaningful glare in Elenora’s direction. “Something garbled about kidnappers. I could make neither head nor tail of it until I arrived here, and even after speaking with Mr. Townsend and your butler, nothing is clear.”

Alcock managed to keep an admirably straight face. Jolyon and Matthew looked as though they rather wished they’d parted company with Elenora and Jack out in the street and were edging nearer to the door. Mr. Townsend and his Runners might well have felt the same.

Lady Amberley sailed on, regardless of her audience. “Penelope must have been having a fit of the vapors when she wrote it. I came here straightaway and found you gone and Miss Wetherby as well, and Alcock tells me the governess you employ for my grandson was attacked near Marylebone Park. In the dark, of all times, as if the woman didn’t realize how dangerous it is to be out after dark.”

She drew breath. “And my grandson was taken by ruffians. You should terminate that woman’s employment forthwith. I can’t have my grandson cared for by a fool.”

Elenora’s brow furrowed and she held on tighter to Edward. Not if she could help it would poor Miss Douglas be dismissed. The woman had fought to save Edward against several men and been beaten for her efforts. Best to say nothing at the moment though. She just wanted to get Edward upstairs and into a bath.

Perhaps Jack guessed how she was feeling. “If you don’t mind, Elenora, could you take Edward upstairs.” He turned to Jolyon and Matthew. “I fear the hour is late and there’s much for me to sort out here. Allow me to thank you for your assistance tonight, of both your sister and of me. Perhaps we could meet at White’s, tomorrow?” And finally to his mother. “Might I escort you home, Mother? Elenora will take care of Edward. I feel you and I need to talk. Alcock, can you get Thomas to escort Miss Wetherby back to Arlington Street when Edward is in bed? Thank you.”

Elenora, Edward snuggled in her arms, started up the stairs as her brothers almost fought each other to be out of the door first.

Mr. Townsend of the Runners stepped forward. “Lord Broxbourne. As you have your boy back, do you wish us to take further action?”

Elenora turned her head to watch and listen better, thinking of the body they’d heaved into the Thames. Would Jack be in trouble if they knew he’d killed the kidnapper?

Jack’s gaze came to rest on her, his eyes troubled. Then he looked back at Mr. Townsend. “No, I have my son back and Reuben Sharpe hasn’t long for this world. When I saw him tonight in his lair, he was coughing blood—in the later stages of consumption. The Devil’s Acre isn’t a safe place for any Runners to enter, and I couldn’t justify putting your men in danger. I’m just content to have my son back home.”

Mr. Townsend gave a smart salute. “As you wish, milord, but remember that if you change your mind, we’re at your disposal. Just send your man round with a request and we’ll be here.”

Thank goodness he wasn’t going back after Reuben Sharpe. Elenora heaved a sigh of relief and continued on up the stairs to the night nursery.

No one was in it, but a warm fire glowed in the hearth as if Edward’s speedy return had been expected with confidence. Elenora rang the bell and, within minutes, Meg, the nursery nurse, was helping to carry buckets of hot water upstairs to fill a bath for Edward.

While this was going on, Elenora sat on the end of his bed holding him on her lap, his little arms still firmly wrapped around her neck as though he feared to let her go. He needed that bath. Six or seven hours locked in that room with only a pile of filthy rags to sit on had left its mark and she had to wonder if he’d need delousing too. If she’d need delousing. Even if Jack would need it too. Her skin and hair itched at the thought and she wriggled her shoulders, longing to dunk her body in hot water as well.

When the bath was half full, Meg, all soft, comforting warmth and kindness, took her small charge and removed his offending smelly clothes without protest from him. “They can be burned,” was all Meg said, tossing them with evident disdain into an empty bucket. He must have been exhausted, but the hot water revived him, as did the forcible washing of his hair in carbolic soap. Several times. It seemed Meg had the same worries about what had hitched a ride home with him as Elenora did, and Edward’s complaints about soap getting in his eyes rose unheeded to the stuccoed ceiling.

From the other side of the screen Meg had put up for Edward’s modesty, Elenora listened to sounds of splashing and good-humored banter from her charge. He, at least, seemed to have bounced back with rapidity, the rigors of his captivity forgotten. At least he hadn’t been held there for long.

She looked down at herself. The hems of her dress and pelisse, the latter of which she’d removed in the warm nursery, were so thick with mud and dirt as to be irredeemable, and the rest of her apparel was liberally splattered with things unmentionable. Perhaps they’d need burning like Edward’s clothes. And if Edward smelled, then so did she.

The nursery didn’t possess a mirror, but she could imagine what her face and hair must be like. She unfastened her bonnet and discarded it on the floor with her pelisse. She could never wear that particular bonnet again, ingrained as it was with the stink of the slums. But what could she do about her appearance? Nothing. She stifled a yawn and tried hard not to think of what Mama would say, and how shocked Aunt Penelope would be. Lady Amberley was bound to tell them both what she’d discovered. But did she care?

Oh well. What was it her old governess had liked to say? It’s no use crying over spilled milk . So true. She would just not think about things like that. It was too… irritating.

Edward at length emerged from behind the screens in a clean nightshirt and with his curly hair wet and wild, and Meg trying to catch him to dry it with a towel. “You can’t get into bed with it wet, Master Edward, you’ll catch a chill. Everyone knows that if you go to sleep with wet hair you get ill.”

“Very true,” Elenora said. “My mama says exactly the same.” Edward bounced onto the bed, a different child from the one Jack had carried back from the slums and who’d huddled close to Elenora for comfort. She held out her hands for the towel. “If you won’t let Meg do it, will you let me dry it for you?”

Meg handed over the towel without any ado. “Shall I run and get a bath ready for you in the guest bedroom, miss?” Her speculative gaze ran over Elenora’s filthy gown and boots. “I’m thinkin’ you can’t be goin’ home like this or you’re goin’ to shock whoever you meet.”

Elenora sighed as she began to rub Edward’s hair. “Very true, but I have no other clothes to put on. If I have a bath, what am I supposed to wear afterwards? I can’t put these things back on again and nor do I want to. I’m of half a mind to suggest they’d better go in that bucket for burning, along with Edward’s clothes, only my aunt paid for them and she might be a bit annoyed at the waste.”

Edward bounced up and down in excitement, making it hard for her to keep rubbing his hair. “I know, I know. You can wear my mother’s old clothes. Papa has some of them still in her room. I’m not supposed to know, but I go in there sometimes and sniff them, in case they still smell of her.” He beamed. “I’d very much like you to wear my mother’s clothes because you’re going to be my new mother now you’re to marry Papa.”

Hot color rose to Elenora’s cheeks, the discomfort of living a lie that was going to hurt Edward almost unbearable. But would wearing the long dead Mary Warren’s clothes be a good idea? “I don’t know…”

Meg clearly thought it was. “That’s arranged then. I’ll go and get the housemaids to fill a bathtub for you in the best guest room, and make sure the fire’s lit. And I’ll find out where Master Edward’s supper’s got to.” And she was gone, leaving Elenora more than a little shocked.

“It’s quite all right,” Edward said, peering up at her from inside the towel which she’d stopped rubbing his hair with. “I’m sure my mother’s clothes will fit you. She has some very pretty gowns. Nicer than the ones the ladies who pass in the street wear. You’ll look pretty in them. I think she must have looked very pretty, but Papa says there aren’t any portraits of her. So I don’t know what she looked like.” He paused. “I wish I did.” He clapped his hands in delight. “And when you’ve had your bath and I’ve had my supper, will you come back and read me a story?”

Elenora didn’t answer but rubbed harder at his hair as they waited for the promised cake and cocoa to come up from the kitchen.