Chapter Four
“Oh, Charity! Is our long plight over at last?” Bartholomew cried in relief as he hugged his sister. Behind them, Ashfield Terrace continued to burn as orange flames licked the dark underbelly of night. Charity idly thought she could still hear Sir Roderick screaming as he perished.
“We shall be free and content now, Bartholomew. Thankfully the letter that arrived only yesterday, giving you Uncle Thomas’s estate and manor home, means that we shall be safe and secure the rest of our days. I need only marry for love now.”
“Truly, what a blessing that unexpected letter was,” her brother said. “And now, dear Charity, let us leave behind our shattered dreams and ancestral curse.”
Brother and sister walked along the road to town, feeling the heat of Ashfield Terrace fade as they entered their happier future.
“The. End.” Caroline scribbled the last words with a flourish and sat back in contentment.
She could have this off to the publisher as soon as the ink was dry; how wonderful to have been able to add that unexpected dead uncle and his fortune at the last moment. In fiction, wealthy dead relatives were always ready to drop off like overripe apples from a tree.
Life seldom worked out so sensibly.
One more task off her slate before luncheon. She only had to balance the accounts at her father’s tailor, which always ran more expensive than they ought. But before she could open the ledger, her younger brother shuffled into the room.
“Caro. Help!” Simon Devereux, a towheaded eight-year-old with the most adorable cheeks in London, trotted to his sister with a book in hand.
He wasn’t treating his fiction with proper respect, holding it by one cover and letting the pages scrape across the floor, the book’s spine bent so painfully that Caroline’s own back felt a twinge in sympathy.
“What is it, darling?” Caroline carefully set her manuscript aside and cuddled Simon next to her on the sofa, running a hand through his fluffy hair. The child flipped open his book and stabbed a finger at a paragraph.
“I keep trying and trying, but I can’t make sense of it!” He looked plaintively up at his sister. “There. That word. I can’t read it at all!”
Poor Simon. Caroline stroked his hair. It had taken him so long to learn how read. His first tutor had dismissed him as “not particularly clever and especially lazy.” That had rankled Caroline so much that she named her next villain Mr. Portbody after the old goat.
Caroline knew that Simon was the opposite of lazy. The poor child had told her that the letters on the page kept jumbling up whenever he tried to study them. Caroline had sat beside him over many long hours, gently spelling out words through their sounds until her little brother finally mastered the task. He was doing so much better, but even after clearing many hurdles he still tripped up from time to time on some grammatical trickery.
“Let’s read it together, shall we? The whole thing.” Caroline traced the sentence with her finger. “Can you read this slowly for me?”
“‘Miss…Langford…walked…out…the gate…and…’” Simon screwed up his face. “Trout?”
“Almost, dear. Remember, we need to sound out as much as we can, starting with the beginning. What are these two letters?” Caroline had never been one for patience, but when it came to her little brother, she’d a limitless supply.
“ T . H .” He brightened, pleased when he got something right. Simon swung his legs back and forth.
“What does that sound like?”
Caroline laughed when Simon put the tip of his tongue to his teeth and blew out his cheeks, making a ‘thhhhh’ sound.
“Is that right?” He grinned.
“Perfect. So that means it can’t be trout, because trout begins with a trrrrr.” She rolled her r , getting another riotous giggle from her brother. Caroline kissed the top of his head. “Can you try again?”
“Thhhhrout?”
“Closer! Let’s spell it out, shall we? T-H-R-O-U-G-H . Rough’s in the word, but the th - sound softens it. We’ve been over this one before, remember? When you see it, you think of being swept along by the wind.” She waved her hand in a gradual elevating line. “Throoooough. Remember?”
“Yes.” Simon giggled, taking the book and starting again. “’Miss Langford walked out the gate and throoooough the garden toward the town.’”
“That’s much better. You’ll amaze them all at school next year, mark my words.” Caroline tickled her laughing brother even as she privately worried. She knew how beastly school could be for sensitive children. Besides which, if Papa’s creditors did put a lien on her earnings, she was afraid they wouldn’t even be able to afford the school fees. But one problem at a time.
“Thank you, Caro. Can we read some more?”
Before Caroline could agree, Wilkins entered looking as if a ghost had appeared with both a bloody knife and an enormous bill that needed to be paid at once. Caroline’s heart almost stopped.
“Yes, Wilkins?”
“Lord Rockford to see you, Miss.”
Caroline had never felt both mounting excitement and increasing wooziness at the same time, and it was a mixture of emotions she’d find difficult to describe.
Don’t panic. Be firm. But perhaps sending Simon away would not be the worst idea in the world. The last thing he needs is to watch a peer yelling at his sister.
Caroline shut the book.
“Thank you, Wilkins. Tell His Lordship I’ll see him in a moment.”
But Wilkins did not have to relay that message, because His Lordship was already through the parlor door and charging toward Caroline in the manner of a rather affronted bull. He fixed her with the most intense glower she’d ever imagined, and she’d imagined quite a few glowers in her time.
“Miss Devereux,” Rockford growled. Caroline got to her feet, Simon’s hand in hers. She hoped the man would behave himself before a child.
“How nice to see you this morning, Lord Rockford. It was good of you to call.” In truth, the word “good” and the Earl of Rockford looked as if they were spaced apart as far as the polar regions. Had Caroline ever seen such scintillating rage dancing in a man’s eyes before? They were a veritable inferno in the shade of green. All that was well and good, but not with Simon here. “This is my younger brother, the Honorable Simon Devereux.”
Caroline made certain the earl could see and understand that she would not put up with any anger in front of the child. Rockford clearly read the firmness in her eyes and relented a bit. The beast in him recoiled, agreeing to wait until the little boy had left the room to pounce.
“Simon, meet the Earl of Rockford,” Caroline said. She didn’t add “your future brother-in-law” as the earl might literally explode. “Why don’t you take your leave, dear? I’ve business to talk with His Lordship. We can read some more later. All right?”
“All right, Caro. Hullo, my lord!” Simon flopped over at the waist in something like a rag doll’s bow. Even Rockford could not remain chiseled from angry stone at the sight of such an adorable little boy. The corners of his mouth twitched, though he evidently fought to smooth them out. “I am very pleased to meet you.”
“The, er, pleasure is all mine, Mr. Devereux.”
“Off you go, Simon. Through the door.” Caroline winked at her brother.
“Yes! Throoooough.” The boy scampered from the room and closed the door behind him. Rockford cleared his throat.
“He seems a nice child.” Lord, he even sounded as though he meant it.
“Yes. Simon’s my chief darling.” She looked at the butler. “You may leave as well, Wilkins. Perhaps we might have tea?” Caroline would not look anything less than the regal lady of the house to Lord Rockford.
“Erm. Yes, Miss Devereux. Though I believe we’ve only half a teaspoon full left in the tin.” The servant winced apologetically.
“Then we shall take some very weak tea, thank you.” Caroline kept her spine straight and her voice magnanimous; this was a battle, and she had to refuse to show weakness. The earl waited until Wilkins had shut the door before he proceeded to prowl about Caroline. His movements were somehow muscular and strangely lithe, a true jungle cat. She was ready for him even as the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
“I have just had the most illuminating call from the Viscountess Weatherford.” Lord Rockford sounded as if he had managed to restrain himself from quite literally going up in flames. “Can you guess why that lady wanted to see me?”
“Something to do with the Marchioness of Rexbridge, I shouldn’t wonder.” Caroline watched as Rockford took to pacing back and forth in front of her. If he’d a tail, it would have been lashing side to side heavily in his agitation.
“Why should Lady Rexbridge believe you and I are inclined to become engaged?” the man growled.
“Because her daughter is my dearest friend, and I told her that we have become close.”
Rockford’s jaw clenched. “Is she aware of your devious ways, this dearest friend?”
“Sybil doesn’t know the particulars, though I believe she harbors suspicions. I’m not the most celebrated debutante in London, after all. At twenty-four I’m not really a debutante at all.” Caroline seated herself. She was quite delighted with herself thus far. She’d not whimpered once, nor had she spoken with anything less than firmness. “Would you care to sit down, my lord? Your pacing is athletic, to be sure, but it’s a bit hypnotic as well.”
“I don’t care to sit down or to drink the weakest tea in London. I would care for an end to this infernal blackmail!” he snarled. The earl put his back to the wall and scowled across the room at her. He was a wild creature finding out the dimensions of a cage for the first time in its life. Caroline almost pitied him.
“I want the same thing, my lord. This blackmail is infernal, I agree. And it will end once we’re married.”
“Then allow me to add that I would like an end to the blackmail without the marriage bit!” A vein throbbed at the very corner of his temple.
“A sound counter negotiation to be certain, but I’m afraid I must decline,” Caroline said. She thought of that creditor sniffing about Dunwell and Poole publishing. She thought of Simon’s precarious future as a schoolboy, of unpaid gambling debts, of the family sitting in Newgate prison while Lord Devereux played dice in a cup with the guard.
Caroline truly felt terrible she had to bring the Earl of Rockford into these problems, but she was fast running out of time. She had to do this for all of her family. No one else would.
“My lord, if you thought you could frighten me into turning over the letter, you’ve sadly miscalculated. Four unsuccessful Seasons as a debutante have left me more fearful of a gentleman’s indifference than his pique. I might also add that my father is out, my brothers are innocent, and I’ve not even the rudimentaries of boxing down, so if you would like to pummel someone, you must content yourself with a cushion.” She lifted one from the sofa. “I would recommend this one. It’s rather soft.”
The earl vibrated before her, looking astonished.
“I thought I must have misremembered the degree of your sauciness. If anything, I underestimated it.” The boiling edge of rage had left his voice, and he now sounded almost impressed.
“Unfortunately, my lord, underestimating a woman of the ton is quite the error in judgment. You would not be the first man to be foolish in that regard.”
Though he might be the angriest man to ever be caught out. Truly, she had never seen a man in such a state before. The vigorous physical power of him was most evident in his strong legs and his absurdly broad shoulders. He looked like a man trying to burst out of confinement.
“So? What are we to do now?” Rockford stepped behind a chair and gripped its back with devastating strength. Caroline wondered if it might splinter to pieces in his hands; she wondered also if that was a character detail she might add to her next romantic villain.
“Well, let’s see.” Caroline considered him. “I suppose we might call this a moment of character development for you, Lord Rockford.”
“Yes. You already said something about being good with characters. I take it you’re an aspiring writer.” He eyed the manuscript pages, and Caroline hurriedly snatched them up, lest he nab and hold them for ransom. She didn’t want to have to redo the climax of the whole blasted novel if he tore them up.
“My lord, I will offer you options. Your personal character will decide how you answer me. First, I have the letter, which I won’t give back until we are married. That is an irrevocable fact. Now you, of course, are free to tell me to go to the devil but will have to face the consequences of whatever comes from this bit of gossip. Should you marry me, however, there will be no consequences. Which do you choose, then? The certainty of safety within the confines of marriage, or the possibility of scandal without compromising your bachelorhood?”
The earl stopped seething and regarded Caroline with those languid, predatory green eyes of his.
“How do you think I’ll answer, Miss Devereux?” He seemed almost curious. In fact, it somehow felt as if he was testing her now. Caroline was used to men’s disinterest, not their curiosity.
“I’m sure I don’t know. That’s not for me to decide.”
“Oh, but you are the writer. You’ve constructed this little scene, haven’t you?” His gaze swept her from crown to toe, and Caroline felt a flutter deep in her stomach. It felt as though he had glimpsed every bit of her in one fell swoop. It was as if he’d hunted out all her secrets with a mere look. The earl’s lip curled in a rather ironic smile. “At any rate, I think I see what’s driven you to do such a thing as blackmail a thoroughly decent scoundrel.” He sounded rather delighted with himself for having put it together. Caroline felt a bit indignant.
“Oh? Then by all means, enlighten me.”
“You’re unmarried at twenty-four, which strikes me, frankly, as bloody ridiculous. Whatever your other faults, you’re comely as sin.”
Caroline was glad she didn’t make a noise as her breath caught in her throat. The earl seemed thoroughly sincere in his compliment. She’d been lucky in the past to be called “pretty enough.” No one had ever described her as sinful. It made her feel dangerous. Alive. A bit perplexed, really.
“Thank you for the rather rakish compliment. I think, though, you can tell why I’m unmarried, then? Despite being comely?” She tried to sound unimpressed.
“Indeed. You’re a writer. Your ringlets are always going limp from fidgeting. You’re too spirited, too original, too obstinate to beguile a man of the ton . Which does suggest a reason I ought to like you. Or at least, respect you.” He sat before her, his muscled bulk almost too visually overwhelming for the delicate armchair.
“Well. I doubt very much it’s in your character to fall in love, my lord, especially with an obstinate woman who’s blackmailing you. So, what shall we do?”
Rockford studied her with the intensity of a predator trying to find the best angle to approach his prey. Caroline wondered what kind of animal she would describe him as. A lion? A tiger, perhaps? She’d already thought of him as a panther, and only one of the greatest hunters of jungle or savannah would do to describe him. Perhaps he was really a lion, with his shag of thick, ungovernable hair and his kinglike indignation.
At last, the earl nodded. He seemed to have made his decision.
“All right,” he said quietly. “You’ve won, Miss Devereux.”
Well. Perhaps he was a tamed lion now. Caroline wanted to look serene in her victory, but she emitted a surprised squeak instead.
“I have, have I? Well. I always intended to.” She tried to appear aloof and as un-squeaky as possible. “You agree we’re to be married, then? We may announce the engagement?”
“I agree that I shall court you before the ton this Season. So long as we’re courting, you will not take any further action as regards the letter, am I right?”
“Well. Yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “But remember that should you cease our courtship or not provide an engagement, our truce ends.”
“Naturally. You grant me a stay of execution, as it were, and I will be most attentive to you. At the Season’s end, I’ll host a ball at Kane House for all of society where our engagement will be announced.”
“The end of the Season is far too great a distance!” She didn’t like it. She’d wanted a quick engagement and a hasty marriage. The longer this went on, the better chance the earl would slip the snare. And if he were ever unencumbered, she dreaded to think what he might do in retaliation. It would make the mysterious creditor look like a mild inconvenience in comparison.
“Think about it, Miss Devereux. We must make the fools of London believe this courtship, mustn’t we? If I go from not knowing you to marrying you in the span of a fortnight, it will suggest either true love or something sinister.”
Caroline sighed. And no one, not even dear Sybil, would believe it could be mad infatuation on the earl’s part. “So long as we agree to the ball and the engagement, very well. I can be patient,” she said.
“Excellent. But there’s one further thing.” Here he leaned forward, causing Caroline’s heartbeat to speed up in triple time. “You will have to deport yourself well before the ton . If they don’t see you as charming and enticing, they won’t understand our marriage. Will they?”
“I suppose not.” Not that it was anyone’s business, but he had a point. Ridicule would not help her plans for Eddie and Simon. “Very well. I agree to your terms. The day we are safely married, I’ll hand you the letter as a gift and you can tear it up as many times as you’d like.”
“I intend to make a veritable mound of papery snow out of the thing.” The earl stood, his presence now even more overwhelming. He overwhelmed easily, it seemed. “Let’s begin, then. Tonight, we’ll visit the Vauxhall Gardens. All society will be about, and it will get plenty of gossip generated. Will that do?”
“Um, yes. It will.” Caroline’s mind spun. She tried to figure out how exactly he was attempting to manipulate her. This all had to be a trick. She would find him out eventually, but for now she must play along. “Thank you, my lord. Or should I say my intended?”
“Not intended. Not yet.” He leaned over her hand. “All good things require patience, don’t they, Miss Devereux?”
Indeed. She must be patient. She must be subtle. And, Caroline thought as the earl bowed and took his leave, she must not be too astounded by the magnetic Earl of Rockford. He was the first and only man to ever make it hard for her to think. If she couldn’t think, she could easily stumble into a trap. One false move could create a disastrous chain of events.
After all, she had no rich uncles waiting to conveniently die. If Caroline burned her house down, she had nowhere to go.
…
Gabriel couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken that long to another living soul. He’d never been the most verbal creature as a child, though he’d thought a great deal. He’d always preferred observation, waiting for an opponent to slip up and reveal a weakness.
Flattery, banter, witticisms, they were for so-called “dandies,” for the fashionables who lived only to puff themselves up and preen. Gabriel had always hated all that pretense.
Yet he’d enjoyed his conversation with Miss Devereux. Not conversation so much as crossed verbal blades. She was quick, that one. He’d enjoyed watching her feint about him, weaving and ducking like a trained fighter. Only this opponent had a pen raised rather than her fists, and she could do infinitely more damage to Gabriel than a simple wallop across the jaw would.
Perhaps he enjoyed talking to Miss Devereux, but he still wanted, nay, needed to be rid of her. Gabriel walked through Devereux House with his intentions clear. He had to do two things: he had to keep Miss Devereux happy before the ton , and he had to get that bloody letter back. But how?
He could try bribing a servant—after all, they probably didn’t get paid very much or regularly if the family was as hard up as Caroline had implied. However, they might also be fearful of losing their jobs. Or they might even be loyal to their employers, hard as that was to believe. Still, bribery was the only way to get this done. Gabriel couldn’t very well break into the house at night and riffle through the lady’s drawers.
Though it wasn’t the most unappetizing idea he’d ever had. She was mouthy, that one, and he liked a woman who knew her own mind. Even if she was firmly the enemy, some fraternization might be nice. If only it weren’t bloody impossible.
“Oh! Goodbye, my lord!” The little boy he’d met earlier stopped Gabriel in his tracks. Again, he flopped over in that liquid little bow that made the earl smile.
“Goodbye. Simon, was it?”
“Yes!” The little fellow beamed. Gabriel liked the kid at once, despite everything.
In truth, he’d observed Caroline with the child as he’d stormed into the parlor.
She’d been attentive to the boy, stroking his hair and reading a book to him. It was the sort of gentle, mothering love Gabriel had never known himself. His own mother had seen her children one hour a day out of forced habit, not desire. Lady Rockford had always believed motherhood to be akin to horse breeding: the blood was everything, and once the babe was out, better let him stand on his own feet and hobble without any assistance.
There’d been nothing soft or tender in his upbringing. No one had ever stroked his hair or cuddled him or read to him. He had to confess, seeing those sweet qualities had momentarily weakened his resolve to be hard on Miss Devereux.
Fortunately, it was never difficult to get him firm. In any sense.
“Well. Simon, it was indeed a pleasure to meet you. You seem a good little chap.”
“Oh, thank you! Do come and see us again, my lord.”
As Caroline’s brother skipped away, an idea suggested itself to Gabriel. The boy was clearly a pet to his sister and, therefore, would know her habits intimately.
“Simon. Come here a moment.”
The child wheeled about and trotted back. “Yes, my lord?”
Gabriel knelt before the boy, attempting to look as unassuming as possible. There could be no frightening the child, not if he wished this to work.
“I’m going to be spending much more time with your big sister in the days to come. That means you and I should be friends. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh yes! Caro says it’s always lovely to make new friends.” The kid grinned, showing a gap between his front teeth.
“Friends play games together, don’t they?” Gabriel asked.
“They certainly do. I love games!”
“So do I. Now, I have a game in mind, but you must keep it a secret. Caro can’t know we’re playing, or she’ll want to play too. This one’s just between us fellows. Understood?”
Simon nodded eagerly.
“Splendid. It’s a hide and seek game. You see, somewhere in this house, your sister has hidden a rather important letter. It was addressed to your father from my own Papa, the last Earl of Rockford. Now I want you to find it for me, Simon, and when you’ve found it, I want you to bring it to me.”
“That’s not a very difficult game.” Simon appeared puzzled. Or worse, bored.
“The difficult thing is not being caught. Not even being suspected. It’s a sort of spying game. Only the cleverest sorts succeed at that. You seem like a clever boy, so I thought you’d enjoy it.”
“Oh, if it’s about being sneaky, then I should love to play.” The child brightened at once.
“Excellent. So without anyone noticing what you’re doing, find that letter. And if you manage to do all that without being caught, there’ll be a shiny new sovereign in it for you.”
“Oh. That’s a great deal of money.” The boy gaped in astonishment.
“What do you say? Can you keep a secret between us gentlemen?”
“I can, my lord! Thank you!” Giddy with anticipation of the shenanigans to come, the young boy sprinted back down the hallway.
Gabriel hastened out the door and back onto the London street. Well. That was one piece moving about the board. His counterattack against the fiendishly clever Miss Devereux had commenced.