Tempted by the Roguish Lord

by Mary Brendan

  For himself, an insight into the Earl’s dealings with Waverley was what he wanted.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Oh, would you please pursue yonder vehicle? And hurry!’

  As soon as he knew his passenger was safely on board, the jarvey put his nag to the test, weaving in and out of the traffic and fully entering into the spirit of the chase. The coal cart was going at a cracking speed with just a solitary hundredweight sack on the back.

  Inside the cab, Emma was shaken and swayed while struggling to stay upright. The whirlwind ride reminded her of the first night she had met the Earl and he had brought her home. She tried to concentrate on this pursuit, but the more she banned Lance Harley from her mind the more persistent a fixture there he became. The memory of his arms holding her, the hint of sandalwood on his skin as it abraded her jaw when he kissed her, wouldn’t be denied. Neither would the sweet words of comfort he’d given her over the loss of her mother. A little involuntary noise broke in her throat as a phantom mouth seemed to skim hers, touching and tantalising, making her forget her sadness.

  She mustn’t imagine he really cared, she sternly told herself. He was a skilful charmer and she was in the throes of some absurd infatuation. His attention and offers of favours in return for hers should not flatter her into dreaming that he might feel affection for her. She had piqued his pride and now he had something to prove, to her and to himself. He was no better than any rake strutting around town and might easily forget about her if he managed to gain his victory and soothe his ego. She knew she’d never forget him, though. If she never again saw Lance Harley, the memory of their brief, tempestuous acquaintance would remain with her until the day she died. No man...even the one she’d once hoped to marry...had ever made such a deep impression on her.

  She gasped and clung on as the vehicle careered round a corner. The wheel found solid ground, knocking the breath from her and focusing her mind again on Robin. Sliding to the edge of the seat, she forced open the stiff window to poke her head out. A rush of cool damp air battered her flushed face. The cab appeared to be gaining ground on the cart, thank goodness. She’d hoped to bump into Robin for days and had imagined that he would be equally keen to see her. Today she had decided to lose no more time in warning him of danger and to go to his place of work. In the event she hadn’t needed to run him to ground. She had been on her way home after settling some merchants’ bills out of the money she’d got from selling her locket when she’d spotted one of Milligan’s carts. Spontaneously she’d charged after it in a most unladylike fashion. Fortunately it had stopped a short way along the road and she’d put on a spurt once sure Robin was doing the deliveries. But off he went again, and Emma hadn’t relished keeping up the chase on foot, or calling out to him. When it had started to spit with rain she had hailed a cab.

  Emma closed the window and sat back against the lumpy squabs. With a surge of relief she picked up on something positive: if the Earl had caught up with the couple, Robin wouldn’t still be going about his business. He’d be in gaol, or in deeper hiding if he and Augusta had somehow evaded her stepbrother’s clutches.

  ‘He be stopping up ahead,’ the driver yelled.

  ‘Oh, pull over now, please,’ she instructed, seeing the cart turn in through some open gates.

  The jarvey steered to the kerb and Emma immediately jumped down and paid him. Pulling up her hood, she dashed to the gates to peek around an edge of timber. The horse and cart were stationary, but Robin had disappeared. A ramshackle stables ran the length of one side of the yard and a dilapidated hut flanked the other. Emma imagined her brother had gone inside, perhaps to collect his wages. She wondered whether to go to find him, but Robin wouldn’t want her to make herself known. Neither did she like the idea of it. The fewer people who saw them together, the better it would be. But she had come this far and didn’t want this chase to end up as fruitless as her visit to his lodging house. Concealing her face in the folds of her cowl, she proceeded hesitantly into the courtyard.

  ‘Wot you after, then, miss?’

  Milligan had emerged from a stable to see what he supposed to be a customer. If ladies needed coal they sent a servant to put in an order. Startled, she’d swung to face him and he could see she wasn’t quite a servant, but neither was she proper Quality.

  ‘Who are you?’ Emma demanded, backing away from a sooty-faced individual who reeked of tar.

  ‘Who are you, more like? D’you want a coal delivery?’ He cocked his head, giving her a thorough look. Beyond the shadow of her hood he could just make out a pale, heart-shaped face and a pair of pretty catlike eyes.

  ‘No...thank you. I...’ Emma hesitated, but knew she’d no option but to state her business. ‘I want to speak to your employee, Mr Perkins,’ she said firmly.

  ‘He’s a popular feller...everybody be seeking Charlie.’

  ‘Who?’ Emma immediately twitched back her hood to better hear his answer.

  ‘Not sure I should say...’ Craftily, Milligan started massaging his chin with his grimy fingers while steadily regarding her. Now he’d got a better look at her he could see she was black-haired and beautiful, if hoity-toity.

  He was waiting for her to bribe him, Emma realised. She pulled out a few pennies from her purse and held them out as an inducement.

  Milligan snorted in derision, but took them all the same. ‘He give me hundred times as much as that.’

  ‘He?’ she immediately pounced. ‘Was he a well-to-do gentleman? Tall with dark hair?’

  ‘Trying to remember...’

  In desperation, Emma held out a shilling even though she knew she couldn’t afford to waste one penny on this wretch. The money she had got from selling her locket should be put to better use than this.

  Milligan took the coin. ‘Now I think on it he didn’t give his name, but he was top notch. That’s all I know.’ Milligan didn’t intend to cross such a man and had already said too much. The swell had told him never to mention their conversation, especially to Charlie, and had paid handsomely for his silence. Milligan reckoned Charlie was in deep trouble to attract the attention of a man like that.

  Emma’s pent-up breath was released. It was no real surprise, yet news she’d been dreading to hear. Houndsmere had told her himself that he was aware her brother worked for Milligan. ‘I must speak to Mr Perkins urgently.’

  Milligan extended a palm.

  ‘I’ll not give you another farthing!’ she fumed.

  He accepted the rebuff with a shrug. ‘I don’t reckon Charlie’s wife knows about you. Jane’ll have yer eyes out.’

  ‘Jane?’ Emma parroted. Had her brother taken up with another woman?

  Milligan’s eyes travelled to her belly beneath her enveloping cloak. He shook his head, smirking. ‘The randy so-and-so has got you in trouble, too, has he?’

  Emma’s indignation soon suppressed her scarlet-cheeked embarrassment. ‘Please tell me where he is!’ She really wanted to head home now it was pouring down. But in for a penny, in for a pound...she’d have to persevere if she were to find her twin.

  She had made a split-second decision to pursue her brother, knowing that Mrs O’Reilly would stay with her father until she returned. For all her brusqueness, Cathleen was a kindly soul and had insisted on sitting with poorly Mr Waverley so Emma could go out on business. Their maid had offered to resume her normal hours for no extra pay, but Emma had declined that offer. The woman had to earn her living as did everyone else. Nevertheless, Cathleen kept turning up every day on some excuse or another.

  ‘Charlie’s finished his shift so you’ll find him at home, I reckon.’ Milligan smeared rain from his face, jogging off to find some shelter in the stable. ‘He’s got lodgings round the corner in Rowley Street, next door to the bakery.’ That last was sent over his shoulder.

  Emma called her thanks and pulled up her hood.

  ‘That way’s quicker, miss.�
� Milligan pointed helpfully to a side door that led from his yard.

  Emma set off, huddled into her cloak, and soon found Rowley Street and the bakery.

  She used a hand to shield her rain-battered vision, blinking at a small mullioned window that was ajar on the first floor. She could hear the sound of an argument. The deeper of the two voices was definitely her brother’s. Emma banged on the door, hoping one of them would hear her over the noise they were making. Just as she was about to raise her fist to thump the panels again, the door was yanked open with some force, sending Emma skittering backwards.

  ‘Hell’s teeth! What are you doing here? How did you find me?’

  ‘That’s not a very nice way to greet your sister.’ Emma sounded equally terse. ‘I’ve put myself to some trouble today on your account, Robin. I wouldn’t have done so unless the matter was urgent. I followed your cart here. You passed me by earlier in the High Street and I’ve been trying to catch up with you to tell you some bad news.’

  ‘Sorry, Em...’ He sighed, sending a sheepish glance up the stairs. ‘You’ve caught me in the middle of something.’

  ‘So I gathered. I could hear you outside,’ she warned. He still hadn’t invited her in out of the rain so she helped herself, stepping into the hallway. ‘Will you take me to your room so we might talk in private?’

  Somebody had emerged from a doorway further along the dim passage. The stout fellow planted his hands on his hips.

  ‘We live upstairs,’ Robin hissed. He had also noticed the belligerent landlord and hastily steered his sister out of sight towards the staircase.

  Having climbed the bare treads, carefully avoiding the lethal-looking splintered areas, Emma went into the room her twin indicated. The dismal, cluttered space seemed vacant. Her encompassing glance took in a small table edged by two stick-backed chairs, a battered sofa and a bed pushed against the wall. A petticoat and stockings hung on a string suspended below the ceiling so it was quite obvious a woman lived here with him. Emma closed the window as a draught blew on to her rain-soaked complexion, making her shiver.

  ‘Augusta might as well come out from wherever she is hiding,’ she said bluntly. ‘It’s too late for any of that now her stepbrother is on to you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Robin demanded. He’d gone pale and grabbed her elbow to hasten her reply.

  ‘I mean that the game is up. I’ve come to tell you the Earl of Houndsmere will catch up with you and Augusta before long. You must warn her, too.’ Emma liberated herself from his clutch.

  ‘She can hear you. She wouldn’t have dived for cover if we’d known it was only you, Em. I had a feeling Houndsmere would send investigators after her so everybody knows her as Jane Perkins.’

  ‘That won’t fool him for long,’ Emma said flatly. She thanked heaven that Milligan knew Robin’s wife as Jane. If he’d uttered the name Augusta to Houndsmere it would surely have rung alarm bells in his head.

  A scurrying sound preceded a fair-haired young lady emerging from beneath the bed, dusting herself down.

  ‘Does my stepbrother suspect we’re together?’ Augusta asked, her tone a mix of annoyance and nervousness.

  ‘Your stepbrother’s been looking for Robin, but of course he’ll get two for the price of one when he catches up with you both,’ Emma replied, giving the girl a sorrowful smile.

  Augusta was pretty and petite and looked very young. But she was old enough: Emma could clearly see a tell-tale bump beneath her creased skirt. Her brother had not been exaggerating the seriousness of his situation then. ‘You really should not risk your health squeezing under the bed like that, my dear. You might hurt yourself,’ Emma said in genuine worry. ‘As Robin has forgotten his manners and omitted to introduce us... I’m Emma Waverley and I imagine you are Augusta Harley. I’m very pleased to meet you. I just wish circumstances were better for us all.’ Emma clasped the girl’s hands in welcome, giving them a squeeze.

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you, too. But I’m just Augusta Peak. My stepfather didn’t give me his name. As for my real father...well, I’m not exactly sure who he was. My grandma says my mother probably doesn’t know either as she was a tavern wench at the time with lots of gentlemen friends. We spring from lowly folk in Wapping, you see. But I like my grandma,’ she finished stoutly.

  Emma was taken aback by the girl’s frankness. She also felt a twinge of pity for Augusta, growing up in such awful surroundings. It made it the more astonishing that she’d chosen to come back to them.

  ‘There’s no need to trouble yourself over my health, I’m very robust,’ Augusta said proudly. ‘Grandma says our family’s born to hard labour and hardship. But thank you for your concern.’ She gave Emma a spontaneous hug, but quickly broke away. ‘Oh, you’re all wet. Take off your cloak and bonnet or you’ll catch a chill.’

  Emma indeed felt as though the damp had seeped through to her bones. She took off the sodden wool and hung it over a chair back, then rubbed warmth into her goose-pimpled arms before removing her dripping hat.

  While the girls had been talking, Robin had been pacing, anxiously whittling away a thumbnail with his teeth. Suddenly he burst out, ‘I can’t understand why Houndsmere is taking such an interest in me if he doesn’t know Augusta is here. How does he know I’m even alive?’ He shot a look at Emma. ‘Did you tell him something?’

  ‘Not intentionally,’ Emma replied with a hint of apology. ‘He questioned me and guessed from something I said that you were alive and hiding in the East End. After that...’ She sighed. ‘His curiosity hasn’t waned at all. I have asked him to leave us all alone, but...’

  ‘But?’ Robin demanded, looking perplexed.

  ‘But...he doesn’t want to.’

  ‘Does he intend to be a friend to us?’ Robin sounded optimistic.

  Emma couldn’t tell her twin that Houndsmere indeed would be a very generous friend if she agreed to share his bed.

  ‘He’s a devil of a nuisance to shake off. He never gives up because he’s used to everybody doing whatever he says,’ Augusta helpfully interjected. ‘My stepbrother always finds me in the end when I run off. Yet I’ve told him to leave me alone.’

  ‘Why do you run off?’ Emma was at a loss to know what Augusta didn’t like about her pampered life.

  ‘My mama is...not very nice...’ Augusta said, pulling a face. ‘She has more time for her gallants than for me. And she is always plotting a way to get Lance to love her when he never will again.’

  After a stunned silence Emma whispered, ‘Again?’ She had listened with mounting disbelief to Augusta’s explanation. ‘Surely your mother was married to the late Earl?’

  ‘She was. But she always wanted Lance because she was with him first. I don’t blame her...he is nice...although strict...and so handsome. Mama hoped he’d marry her, but he wouldn’t. So she married his father instead.’ Augusta had reeled that off airily, then added, ‘She still wants him back even though she knows he has other women and they are much younger and prettier than she is. One of them is called Jenny. I’ve seen my stepbrother out in his phaeton with her. She has hair even fairer than mine.’ The girl twirled a flaxen curl around a finger, then seemed to notice the strain on Emma’s face. ‘I’m sorry... I know I shouldn’t be so vulgar and outspoken. I’m always getting told off for it. We are quite scandalous, aren’t we?’ She shook her head. ‘My grandma works as a char and she says that the Quality have no reason to think they’re above her, the way they carry on.’

  Emma could only agree. Her heart felt as though ice had surrounded it, freezing it solid and restricting its beating. He was a rake, she knew that, but not that he was so thoroughly debauched. Little wonder he had asked her not to believe all the gossip about him! He had shared a woman with his father. Now that man had died was Lance Harley her lover again? Emma imagined pretty, blonde Jenny was the chère amie who lived in the East End.

  ‘I shou
ld be going now.’ She refused to think more about it. ‘I have done what I came to do. Now you must do what you think best, Robin, to keep you both safe. I won’t come back again. I intend to find some work and it might take me away from London.’

  Robin didn’t appear to be listening. He interrupted with, ‘Has our father sent some money to help get me out of this place?’

  ‘He has nothing left!’ Emma shouted angrily, then clamped her lips together, ashamed of her outburst. ‘Goodbye, Augusta.’ She embraced the girl. ‘Please take care of yourself.’ She quickly donned her damp cloak and fastened her bonnet.

  ‘I shall. Thank you,’ Augusta said politely. ‘I hope I’ll see you again,’ she called as Emma approached the door.

  ‘Will you accompany me downstairs, Robin?’

  Her brother led the way along the landing.

  ‘I’m sorry I shouted,’ Emma said when they were again standing in the hallway. ‘But you should know that our father is not well. As soon as he is feeling more himself and able to cope without me I will find employment. But he never will improve unless you leave him alone. The worry of all this makes him fret constantly. He wants to see you and Augusta.’

  ‘Well, let him come!’ Robin snorted. ‘When he sees how we go on he will want to help us before his grandchild is born.’

  ‘He cannot help!’ Emma exploded through her gritted teeth. ‘He has nothing left...not even his health.’ She paused to rein in her temper. ‘The doctor attended Papa earlier in the week. He was surprised at how our father has deteriorated since his last visit.’ Tears glittered in her eyes at the memory of the doctor’s grave expression when examining his patient. Before the doctor left he had told Emma to ensure Mr Waverley had as much rest as possible, handing over some powders to ease his sleep and some ointment for his leg.

  ‘That’s a blow...’ Robin looked despairing. ‘I’ve been relying on his assistance. Augusta is utterly fed up with living like this.’