Boudreaux’s Lady

by Smith, Lauren

  “Very well but let me reimburse you.”

  “If you insist, but I assure you it’s not necessary.” Beau strangely couldn’t stomach the thought of being paid back for assuming protective duty and caring for a lady.

  The study door opened, and Sheridan ushered Philippa in. She still wore the ill-fitting dress from the innkeeper Mrs. Craddock and her face was lined with anxiety.

  “My lord?” She looked to Lennox, who gestured to the seat next to Beau.

  “Please sit, Pippa. I would like to propose a plan to you.”

  Philippa obediently sat down beside Beau.

  “Pippa, would you be willing to help me stop Lord Monmouth?”

  Philippa looked between Beau, Lennox and Sheridan in confusion. “Stop him? How? He’s an earl.”

  “No man is above the law,” said Beau. “But yes, the sad reality is that there are those among the peerage who require unassailable evidence to be brought against them to see justice done.”

  “Lord Monmouth is one such man,” Lennox added. “No doubt he feels safe from repercussion so long as he distances himself from any direct actions. We need to understand why he wishes to hurt you so that we can expose him.”

  Beau leaned closer to her. “But in order to do so, we need your cooperation.”

  Philippa’s full focus was on was him now and it made his blood hum sweetly in his veins.

  “My cooperation? In what way?” She kept her gaze on him, as though her trust was stronger in him than the others, which was to be expected, given how they’d met.

  “We need you to become a public figure. Someone that Monmouth will see, a woman invited to balls, dinners and such.”

  Philippa tensed, her hands fisting in her skirts. “But won’t he try to attack me again?”

  “Not directly, no,” said Lennox. “His first attack was in the heat of the moment. He now knows it was a mistake. Had he killed you, there would have been consequences. Even for him.”

  “Which is why he later engaged Sommers,” Beau added. “But it is Lord Lennox’s belief that the very fact that you are exposing yourself as a target might protect you for a time.”

  Philippa frowned. “Because he will believe it’s a trap?”

  “Precisely,” said Ashton. “And regardless, we shall be there to protect you.”

  Philippa looked at Beau. “Will you be there?”

  He nodded. “We believe you should come to live with me at my townhouse. We will tell everyone you are my ward, the daughter of an older friend of mine from the country. I’ve been charged with your care for a year until you turn twenty-one.”

  Her lightning gray eyes studied him. “Live with you? Alone?” The hesitation was there as he expected, but she wasn’t protesting so far.

  “Philippa,” he said softly. “You can trust me, can you not?”

  She considered a moment and then gave a nod.

  “I promised your safety. At the risk of my own, if necessary.”

  She released her viselike grip on her skirts. “When is this to happen?”

  “Now, today.” Beau glanced at Ashton for confirmation.

  “Take any of your belongings you wish. We will have my coach take you to Boudreaux’s home in Mayfair. We will conceive of a deeper story for you, but for now, you may be called Miss Wilson and go by your own given name.”

  “And afterwards… I’m allowed to come back and continue in service to you?” Philippa asked.

  “Of course,” he promised.

  The last bit of tension in Philippa seemed to ease.

  “Go on. Pack your things and come back down when you’re ready,” Lennox said.

  Philippa left the room.

  “Well, that went better than expected,” Sheridan said. “I would think that most ladies would hesitate to live with a bachelor under such circumstances.”

  “Philippa isn’t most ladies,” Beau said. “She’s braver than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  Lennox and Sheridan shared a knowing look before Sheridan clapped a hand on Beau’s shoulder. “That my friend, is how it begins.”

  “How what begins?” Beau asked.

  Sheridan’s brown eyes glinted with mischief. “Why spoil the surprise?”

  Beau simply stared at his two friends. What the devil did they mean?

  Chapter 7

  “Pippa?” Roger asked as Philippa entered her room after meeting with Lord Lennox. Both he and Ruth waited anxiously by her bed, their eyes round and mouths tight. “Pippa, are you allowed to stay?”

  “Yes… But his lordship needs me to help him first.”

  “Help him how?” Ruth asked.

  “They want to expose Lord Monmouth. They think I can help them draw him out in public.”

  “How?” Roger’s face was tight with worry.

  “They wish for me to go live with Mr. Boudreaux and pose as his ward, the daughter of an old friend from the country.”

  “Boudreaux? The tall dark haired man who rescued you?”

  “Yes, the one with dark, intense eyes.” Lord, she loved those whiskey-colored eyes, the way they always made her feel warm and safe, even as his lips promised dark, dangerous and sinful pleasures.

  “Do you feel safe to be with him?” Ruth asked. Her fingers played with the hem of her white apron. “I’ve heard he’s a bit of a rake.”

  “He could’ve taken advantage of me after he rescued me, but he didn’t. Lord Lennox trusts him.” She retrieved a small cloth bag from next to her bed, large enough to hold a few undergarments and one of her better dresses. She also collected her pouch with her necklace given to her by her mother. Everything else could be left here until she returned.

  Ruth hugged her tight. “Oh, do be careful.” When she let her go, Roger took her place.

  “Remember, a knee to his groin if he tries anything,” he said, miming the action to demonstrate.

  “Roger!” Ruth exclaimed in a scandalized tone.

  “What? It’s good advice,” he replied, not at all embarrassed.

  “Thank you. I will send word once I’m settled.”

  “Good.” Ruth hugged her once more, and they followed her back down to the main floor.

  Philippa froze at the sight of Lord Lennox, Lord Sheridan, Lady Lennox and the two Lennox children waiting for her at the foot of the grand staircase. Beau was there too, lingering at the edge of the small crowd.

  “Be safe, Pippa,” Lady Lennox said.

  “Yes, be safe,” Malcolm, their oldest, replied solemnly. He was only four but he, like his younger sister Rose, liked Philippa immensely.

  Rose waved a chubby hand before burying her face in her mother’s blue velvet skirts. “Bye, bye.”

  “Goodbye, my dear little ones,” Philippa said to the two children before facing Lennox and Sheridan. “I hope I won’t be gone for long.”

  “As do I. We’ll be watching over you,” Lennox promised; Sheridan echoed the sentiment with a nod.

  “Thank you, my lords.” She passed by them to stand in front of Beau Boudreaux. Those warm eyes of his seared her as he looked her over.

  “You have all that you need?” The question was soft, full of tenderness and concern.

  “Yes, I believe so.” She wanted to tell him she was afraid, afraid to leave her protected and predictable world behind, but the words caught on her tongue. She followed him down to the black and tan painted coach that bore the Lennox family crest. Beau offered her a hand inside. She hesitated at first, then accepted his hand and stepped in. He settled across from her.

  “Mr. Boudreaux,” she said.

  “Beau,” he corrected.

  “Beau, what is expected of me while we are trying to expose Lord Monmouth?”

  “You shall dress and act like a lady of good breeding, someone from an aristocratic family. We want him to see you in as many public settings as possible. If he sees you as a threat to his son’s inheritance, then we shall give him every reason to think so. Once he realizes what’s happening, he will feel compelled
to act. And yet, according to Lennox, the very nature of our public display will stay his hand and fill him with doubt. With his attention focused on you, we may be able to find out what his motives truly are.

  “What if… What if he simply does not like me, or like servants? It could be that I simply upset him somehow.”

  Beau pushed back one of the coach curtains, illuminating his face, which was trying to hide a smirk. “I don’t know what stories you’ve heard, but earls or other members of the peerage do not go about strangling young women for no reason.”

  “But they can,” she replied quietly, her nerves coming back. “I’ve read about such murders in the Morning Post.”

  “Those are the acts of mad men. Monmouth, as far as I’m aware, is not a mad man.”

  “How can you be certain??”

  The smirk on his face faded. “I guess I cannot. Sometimes such madness is temporary or comes out in a fit of passion. The fact you resemble his late wife… I wonder if perhaps he killed her and thought you were haunting him, reminding him of his guilt.”

  Philippa’s gaze fell. “I still find it hard to believe I resemble her.”

  “Believe it. I have seen it with my own eyes. She was the daughter of the Duke of St. Albans, a man that I look upon as my surrogate father. She died in childbirth giving Monmouth a son. A few days before you and I met, my friend showed me her portrait. You look like the living ghost of Albina.” He leaned forward, their breaths mingling in the quiet coach. “There is a reason that matters to Monmouth and we must learn why or you will never be safe.”

  Philippa suddenly felt very small and afraid. “But I don’t matter. I’m no one…”

  Beau turned to look at her in bewilderment. “What an odd thing to say. No one is no one, Philippa.”

  “Even upstairs maids?” She was trying to be playful, but her heart was still quivering with fresh fear, knowing that a man wanted her dead for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

  “Especially upstairs maids,” Beau said with that lazy smile of self-assurance. “Men like Monmouth hold far less esteem in my eye. Character defines worth, not status.” Beau had a relaxed confidence that put her at ease and made her feel protected, though he was a seasoned rake sixteen years her senior. The gap between them felt like a lifetime in some ways. He was worldly; she’d lived a sheltered life with her parents and now a life of service.

  “Philippa, if you aren’t too tired, we should go shopping. As my ward, you’ll need new clothes.” He waved at the baggy gown from Mrs. Craddock hanging on her smaller frame.

  Philippa held up her small cloth bag so he might see. “I packed my best Sunday gown.”

  “Have you now? Well, let me see.” Beau leaned forward as she removed part of the dark blue muslin gown from her bag.

  “Ahh, Yes. That is a lovely gown. But I’m afraid you need two dozen more, at least.”

  “At least?”

  “Dinner gowns, opera gowns, certainly a riding habit. Several ball gowns. Day gowns, evening gowns, promenade dresses…” He trailed off.

  Her mind reeled with the thought of so many wonderful gowns but then the truth of her situation poured over in a dreadful icy reality. She didn’t have the funds for such clothing. Swallowing hard, she confessed to Beau her problem with his plan.

  “I haven’t the money for that, Mr. Boudreaux.”

  “Beau,” he corrected yet again. “During this charade, you will be my guest. Lennox and I have agreed it was only fair that we cover your necessary expenses. Playing the part of a woman in the ton, you will have great demands when it comes to your wardrobe. I shall be more than happy to provide you with the items you need.”

  Philippa fell back against the coach’s cushioned seat. “Heavens…”

  “So, what do you think? Are you up to the task of spending my money on fine gowns, maybe even a few jewels?”

  “Oh, but I have a necklace.” She dug into her bag once more and found a small velvet pouch. She emptied the contents onto her palm. The sapphire necklace gleamed in her hand.

  “Are those glass?” he asked.

  “No… they are real sapphires. It was a gift from my parents when I turned sixteen.”

  “A fine gift. Lennox said your parents run a textile shop, is that correct?”

  She tucked the necklace back into its pouch and returned the pouch to her cloth bag. “Yes, on Bond Street.”

  “Well, let’s keep that necklace safe. I’d hate for you to lose something so personal. I will buy you other jewels to wear.”

  Philippa still couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was like some fantastical dream.

  “Shopping then? Or would you prefer to go home to rest?”

  “I suppose I could do a little shopping,” she conceded. Although in truth she wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for two days straight. Beau opened the door of the coach and told the driver to head to Oxford Street.

  Philippa had been to Oxford Street before, usually on errands for Lady Lennox. Now she was here on her own with a handsome gentleman. As Beau escorted her out of the coach, she felt the eyes of a dozen men and women upon her. The oversized woolen dress she wore was suddenly too large and stiff. She ducked her head in mortification.

  “I must look like a beggar to these people.”

  Beau slipped her arm in the crook of his. “Eyes up, Philippa. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” She could smell that warm, dark, enticing sent of his that had soothed and aroused her last night was she’d fallen asleep in his arms.

  She did as he commanded and raised her head, gazing down the street. Dozens of windows displayed the wares of silk merchants, milliners, corsetiers, line-drapers and haberdasheries.

  He nodded at a nearby modiste’s shop that had a black and gold painted sign that said Harper, Howell and Co. “Shall we start here?”

  She recognized the name. It was one of the finest dressmakers in London. “If that is what you believe is best.” She had no idea where to start. She had perused Lady Lennox’s fashion magazines when her ladyship was done with them, but Philippa didn’t know much about current fashions at all.

  Beau escorted her into the brightly lit shop. The sunlight poured in the bay windows, illuminating the roles of expensive silks and velvets. A glass display case held elaborately embroidered or bejeweled reticules. Kid gloves in various colors were displayed on a circular table and at the center were a trio of delicately woven poke bonnets.

  Philippa touched her hair reflexively, the hastily fashioned chignon felt messy and only caused her further embarrassment.

  “May I help you?” A young woman in a dark blue brocade gown approached them. Her eyes swept quickly over Philippa before alighting on Beau.

  “Mr. Boudreaux! What a lovely surprise.” The woman’s smile was warm and open to Beau. Philippa wondered if the woman fancied herself in love with him.

  “Jessica,” he greeted. “How are you?”

  “Wonderful. What brings you here?” She looked curiously at Philippa. Philippa glanced away, still self-conscious of her looks.

  “I have charge of a new ward. This is Miss Philippa Wilson. She is the daughter of an old friend of mine who recently passed. As I am to be in charge of Miss Wilson until she is of age next year, we have need of a new wardrobe including the full array to prepare her for the usual rounds of balls and parties.”

  “Yes, of course. Come this way, my dear. I hope you’re not too attached to this.” Jessica plucked at one of the loose folds of the skirt of Mrs. Craddock’s gown.

  “No, but I do need to keep it so I may return it to a friend.”

  “Not a problem, Miss Wilson. Let’s look at some of the ready-made gowns. Once you have something more suitable to wear immediately, I should like to create a full wardrobe for you.”

  Philippa’s head was spinning as she followed the young dressmaker into a small changing room. Jessica assisted her in disrobing. It was so awkward for her to be on the opposite side of this treatment.

  “You’ll need c
orsets. I can recommend a shop just a few doors away.” Jessica pursed her lips and brushed a stray wisp of blonde hair out of her face as she examined Philippa.

  “What is it?” Philippa asked.

  “Nothing… You’re very lovely.” Jessica sounded wistful. “We won’t even have to bother with cosmetics. Your complexion is clear, your features quite perfect.” She tapped her chin. “Remarkable, really. Most colors will work well on you, except perhaps yellow. Hardly anyone looks good in that.” She tilted Philippa’s chin up. “Gray eyes… Like diamonds beneath a still lake. I know just the thing.” She exited the changing room.

  Philippa stood still, shivering slightly after being so bundled up for so long in the woolen gown. When the dressmaker returned, she had several gowns tossed over her shoulder. “Let’s try a few of these on and see if one fits.”

  It turned out they all fit. There was a riding habit in bishop’s blue with white frogging on the jacket, an evening gown of Capuchin dark orange that seemed to change color in light and shadow. Two day gowns, one of dark Spanish green and the other a delicate willow green. There was an opera gown of carmine red that made Philippa blush. The last gown, though, was one that made the dressmaker gasp.

  “This evening gown is a special piece. I designed it a few weeks ago but the client changed her mind, so I put it in the ready-made stack.”

  With Jessica’s assistance, she tried on the gown. It was a silvery color called Nakara which Jessica explained was close to a pearl or the inside of a shell.

  “There…” The dressmaker turned Philippa so she faced the mirror in the dressing room.

  Philippa gasped, stunned to see a stranger in the glass. The pearlescent gown made her eyes glow, as though they channeled moonlight. Her curves were accentuated but not flaunted. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel ashamed of her beauty.

  What would Beau think when he saw her like this? A hint of longing passed through her and she briefly closed her eyes, imagining what he might do… That he might hold her, whisper sweet words in her ear. That a woman dressed like this might deserve the attention of a man like him. Warmth gathered low in her belly and she placed a hand to her stomach, her face heating as she looked away from her reflection.