“I ... took a bit of a tumble,” he said, wondering if one man could endure any further humiliation in the course of one day.
“Get in,” she barked.
Yes, he thought bitterly. Apparently, he could.
Chapter 5
“Wherein a friend in need ... will get on his knees and beg if he has to.”
“What in the blue blazes happened to you?” Ben asked, his eyebrows hitting his hairline as Aubrey’s dishevelled figure stalked through the door.
“I don’t wish to speak about it,” Aubrey replied with cold dignity as he set foot into the flat that Ben had recently vacated of his Light-o'-love. The peal that his Grandmother had rung over him had been comprehensive and mortifying and had put him in a foul temper. She had not believed his hastily strung together excuse at being sent to the address as a prank that his friends had played on him, and he had felt too discomposed by Mrs Dashton’s revelations to feel able to confide in the old woman. Yet, at least.
A pity as she was a devil for a scheme, and might have found him a way out of this God awful tangle he seemed to be getting tied ever tighter in. He put the thought aside for the moment but resolved to tell her everything if things got any more difficult. She’d be scandalised by Violette’s running away from home alone and no doubt tell the girl so in no uncertain terms, but she was kind hearted beneath the cut of the sharpest tongue in London, and she was a powerful woman in her own way. She’d taken Celeste in, after all, whose circumstances had been far more shocking. So he didn’t think she’d refuse Violette when she saw she was obviously a gently raised female of good family, if not good sense.
He had the notice of a feminine squeal of pleasure before Sarah fell on his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Aubrey!” she said, grinning at him. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
Aubrey disengaged her with a slight frown as the strong scent of gin assailed him. He paused to cast Ben a disapproving glance but his friend just shrugged.
“She’s drunk as a wheelbarrow,” he said, looking a little apologetic, at least. “But she’s a dashed sight soberer now than she was. Violette’s been feeding her coffee like it’s going out of fashion.” Aubrey’s disapproval grew but Ben just shrugged. “Not like we had another option for a female companion for Miss Mystique.”
Aubrey tutted as Sarah tried to wind her arms around his neck again. When he’d first come to London as a raw greenhorn Sarah had been his first youthful passion and they’d had a jolly time together. He’d once tried to find the girl a respectable position since he was fond of her, but she was too enamoured of kicking up a lark, and barely lasted a week. It was clear he’d been foolish to suppose she’d be a suitable companion for Violette, even for a short while.
“Now, then, Sarah, do come and finish your coffee.”
He looked up, embarrassed as Violette came in carrying a china cup as he tried to unwind Sarah from his neck. The girl was like a blasted octopus.
“Gisa kiss, Aubrey,” the girl said, giggling as she wriggled closer to him.
“Sarah!” he exclaimed, horrified.
“Yes, Sarah, do put Mr Russell down, you’re embarrassing him,” Violette chided. To Aubrey’s surprise, Sarah obeyed with little demur and Violette led her to a small sitting room and bade her sit by the fire. She pressed the coffee cup into Sarah’s hand and gave Aubrey a considering look before taking the other chair.
Tommy and Owen, who were both standing by the window and looking like a pair of uncomfortable bookends nodded a greeting and beckoned him over.
“Can’t stay here,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “Won’t fadge.”
“I should say not,” Aubrey replied in annoyance which grew as Owen looked him over and gave a curious sniff.
“You fall in a midden?” he asked, wrinkling his nose with distaste.
Aubrey glared at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What happened?” Owen pressed, moving downwind.
“He don’t want to talk about it,” Tommy said to him with an impatient expression. “Just said so. Don’t blame him. I shouldn’t either if I’d fallen in a midden.”
“I didn’t fall ...” Aubrey began and then gave up. “Oh, never mind. She can’t stay here. There’s only one thing for it. I’ll have to take her to Celeste. They should be back by now.”
“Take her to Falmouth?” Tommy replied, his blue eyes growing wide with horror. Aubrey might find his grand cousin intimidating, but he positively terrified Tommy. “Are you queer in your attic?” he demanded. “Fellow will throw you out on your ear!”
This wasn’t altogether reassuring, having already been thrown out of one house today, but Aubrey stood firm and shook his head.
“Won’t ask Falmouth,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “Celeste can talk him around her thumb. If I get her on my side, the job’s done.”
“Yes, but what if Celeste isn’t there and you see Falmouth first?”
Aubrey paused as the idea wasn’t a welcome one, but Owen shook his head.
“Still a good idea. Fellow’s got that safe house in France for women in difficulties and that orphanage he’s building with the Duke of Ware. Best person to ask I should say. Charitable sort. He won’t turn her out.”
Aubrey nodded. For all of his scandalous reputation and rumours about a murderous temper, Alex was underneath it all the sort to take action rather than watch people suffer. Terrifying he may be, but he wouldn’t sit by and do nothing. Of course the ton speculated that his good works were atonement for all his wickedness, and Aubrey wasn’t absolutely certain there wasn’t a grain of truth in that, but nonetheless.
“That’s settled, then. I’m taking her to Celeste.”
***
Aubrey didn’t say anything to Violette about Mrs Dashton’s revelations until they were safely installed in the carriage. For the moment he’d fobbed Tommy and the others off, telling them he’d explain later. He wanted to see Violette’s face when she realised he knew her lover’s identity.
“The Marquess of Winterbourne, then?” he said, with no preamble, surprised and perhaps a little relieved when she didn’t blush but gave a curt nod. “And how did you come to know him?” he asked, trying to force down an unreasonable surge of anger. It wasn’t the girl’s fault, after all. Winterbourne was a man in his thirties and known to be an accomplished flirt. A little innocent like Violette who wasn’t even out yet - couldn’t be, he reasoned, if this was her first time in London - well, she’d have been too easy for a man like that to conquer.
“I ... I’ve known him since I was a baby.”
Aubrey frowned. Perhaps he had wronged the man. Perhaps he’d meant to marry her, if she was a friend of the family? It would have been only the most foolish or committed libertine who would sully a girl of good character on his own doorstep.
“Why won’t you tell me who you really are, Violette?” he asked, feeling suddenly weary.
He watched as she bit her lip, her fine white teeth pulling at the tender flesh, and sure felt she was considering the idea, but then she looked away from him and he knew she wouldn’t.
“I can’t,” she said, though she sounded apologetic.
“I understand that you don’t know me very well, but I thought you trusted me?” he replied, quite unable to hide his disappointment.
“Oh I do,” she cried, sitting forward in her seat and looking appalled. “That’s not why!”
“Then what is?” he replied, frustrated beyond measure by all this cloak and dagger stuff. He’d have never made a spy, that was for certain. He wasn’t cut out for it.
“I ...” she began and then stopped again. “I have caused you enough trouble already,” she said, sounding so utterly dejected that he wanted nothing more than to sit beside her and take her in his arms. But she trusted him. “If you know who I am then ... well things could only get a great deal worse!” she said, and the look of fear in her eyes convinced him she wasn’t exaggerating.
“But you
must know that I would protect you?” Aubrey replied, quite unable to stop himself from moving to sit beside her but contenting himself with merely taking her gloved hand in his. “And if you have no faith in me, you may believe that my cousin, the Earl of Falmouth, well no one crosses him lightly, I can tell you!”
Violette looked up at him through her thick lashes and he hoped he wasn’t imagining the look of affection he saw there. “I have faith in you, Mr Russell,” she said softly. “I assure you I do, and yes, I have heard of your cousin and know him to be a ... a formidable man. Which ... which only puts me in a quake to know I have forced you to take me to him. I doubt he will be pleased.”
“Nonsense,” Aubrey replied with more assurance than he was currently feeling. “I’m not afraid of Falmouth,” he added, with more heat than sincerity. “And he will do all he can to keep you safe until we have untangled this mess.” That, at least, he was certain of.
“You are too good, sir,” she mumbled, clearly mortified at having to put herself under his protection. She turned away from him and he looked at her lovely profile and felt a dangerous possessive feeling growing in his chest. If she really was betrothed to Winterbourne, he had no right to such feelings, but if not ...
“Did ... did Winterbourne,” he began, hardly knowing how to ask the question without grossly offending her. “Did he ... make you an offer?” he asked.
Violette glanced back at him and blushed a deep rose before turning away.
“I ... cannot answer that,” she said, her voice strained as she folded her hands in her lap. Her face was pinched and drawn, and Aubrey drew his own conclusions. The man might be a renowned boxer and a war hero, but when Aubrey caught up with him he’d do his level best to wring the devil’s throat.
***
It was unsurprising to Aubrey, considering the way his luck had run so far today, that Falmouth’s disapproving butler informed them that the countess had not yet returned home, but that Lord Falmouth would see him.
The butler eyed Violette with deep misgiving but led her to a sunny parlour while Aubrey went off to beard the lion in his den. There was something about facing Falmouth in his study that made Aubrey feel just the same as when he’d been hauled before the Dean at Eton after some or other misdemeanour.
He cleared his throat and walked in, squaring his shoulders and reminding himself firmly that he was no longer in short coats.
“Falmouth,” he said, greeting his older cousin and the head of their rather illustrious family.
Alex looked up from the sprawl of papers cluttering his desk and sat back in his chair, narrowing his piercing grey eyes at Aubrey in a manner that didn’t bode well.
“If you’ve come here with some fancy piece in tow,” he began, clearly having been primed by the wretched butler that there was something smoky going on.
“It’s no such thing!” Aubrey replied with some heat, stung that Alex would consider that he’d do such a thing. “She’s a lady and in a dreadful fix. I’ve been trying to help her, but I’m in rooms, as you know, and she’s all alone and I didn’t know who else to turn to. I’m at point nonplus, Falmouth, or else I’d not be here.”
There must have been a rather more desperate tone to his voice than he’d suspected as Alex’s face lost its flicker of anger and suspicion and the big man got to his feet. He looked Aubrey over with a curious glance and then went to pour them out a drink.
“Looks like you’ve had a devilish time of it, coz,” he said, a slight smile playing over a mouth that could have been thought cruel to those who didn’t know him well. “You’d best let me have it all with no bark on, and we’ll see what can be done.”
A weight that had seemed to be growing ever heavier seemed to lighten at the words and Aubrey let out a sigh, sinking down into a leather armchair with relief.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that,” he admitted before launching into a tale he suspected sounded improbable if not downright outrageous.
To his surprise, Alex remained silent throughout, and when he’d finished, his thick black brows were drawn together as he studied the bottom of his empty glass.
“The girl must stay here,” he said, out of the blue, and it took Aubrey a moment before the words sank in.
“Alex!” he cried in relied. “You’re a dashed good fellow, none finer,” he said, before his relief gave way to suspicion. He’d been certain that Alex would find the girl safe refuge, but it had never occurred to him she might stay with them. A girl with no name would undoubtedly set tongues wagging, and Aubrey would not bring scandal to Celeste’s door willingly. He stared at Falmouth before the penny dropped. “You know who she is!” he accused.
Alex’s frown deepened and he looked up. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I suspect, and if I’m right, the girl needs protecting.”
“You think she’s in danger?” Aubrey replied. He shivered, a cold and dreadful sensation slithering over his skin at the idea of someone hurting Violette.
Alex pursed his lips. “I don’t know. At the very least she is a pawn that is best left off of the board.” He rubbed at his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Celeste will take care of her. Tell friends she’s a cousin or some such tale.”
“Don’t know if she speaks French,” Aubrey warned but Alex waved his hand.
“It’s of no matter, she’ll not be socialising.”
Aubrey nodded. “I don’t think she’s even out yet,” he admitted. “Though she ought to be by now,” he added, wondering why such a beauty should not have made her début. “She’s at least eighteen I would say, and ... oh, a diamond of the first water,” he added, with rather more enthusiasm that had been prudent.
Alex gave him an amused and knowing look. “Is she?” he asked, his tone all innocent surprise.
Aubrey glared at him. “I wish you will tell me who you believe she is.”
Alex hauled in a breath and then shook his head. “The knowledge won’t do you any good, not for the moment. The fewer who know her identity, the better.” He laughed, though not unkindly at Aubrey’s obvious annoyance.
“Now, now, Galahad. I’ll tell you as soon as I have something to say. No use at all sending you off half-cocked and then finding I’ve got my facts wrong. The worst kind of mischief comes of jumping the gun.”
Aubrey had to be content with that as he knew Alex well enough to know he’d not say another word on the matter.
“Very well,” he said, with rather less grace than perhaps he ought. “But I think it’s a shabby way to treat me after everything I’ve been through.”
Alex opened his mouth and Aubrey had no doubt he was about to be admonished for his ingratitude, but he was saved as a vision in pink sailed into the room.
Not for the first time, Aubrey was struck by the change in Alex’s severe countenance the moment his eyes landed on his beautiful young wife.
“Well, my love, do I have a treat in store for you,” the Earl said, holding his hand out to Celeste who ran over and ignored his hand in favour of planting a kiss on her husband’s mouth.
Aubrey turned away rolling his eyes. “Don’t mind me,” he muttered.
“Oh, hello, Aubrey,” Celeste replied, sounding as though she’d just noticed him.
“Hello yourself,” he said with a snort as Celeste turned back to Alex and ignored him completely.
“What treat? What is it?” she demanded, practically bouncing on her toes.
“An intrigue,” Alex said, clearly knowing his beloved very well as her eyes grew round and she clapped her hands. “‘‘Ow delightful. Now tell me everything.”
With a sigh, Aubrey was forced to launch once more into his sorry tale, and by the time he’d finished, Celeste leapt to her feet with a cry of horror.
“Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed, looking utterly furious. “Do you mean to tell me that that poor child has been sitting in the parlour all alone, all this time!”
“Well, she has been fed and watered, love,” Alex said, regardi
ng the vexation in her flashing blue eyes with trepidation.
“She is not an ‘orse, Alex!” she exclaimed with indignation, and swept out of the room, cursing men and their idiocy all the way.
Alex cleared his throat, looking a trifle chagrined. “I think it’s safe to say you leave Miss Mystique in good hands.”
Aubrey grinned, amused to know Alex was rather in awe of his wife’s temper. But he breathed a sigh of deep relief, as he knew for sure that Violette was safe.
Chapter 6
“Wherein Aubrey gains a dependent and ... a scandalous reputation.”
It was with some considerable courage that Aubrey presented himself the next afternoon, as requested, before the doors of the house on King Street and within striking distance of Mrs Dashton’s formidable butler and his ham sized fists.
To Aubrey’s great relief, he appeared to be expected, and was greeted with civility, ushered directly into the drawing room where Mrs Dashton appeared just moments later.
“My dear Mr Russell,” she greeted, rushing into the room wearing a gown of dusky pink cambric, looking just as splendid as she had the day before. “I cannot tell you how mortified I am. Are you unhurt? I have hardly slept for wondering if you came to harm. You may rest assured that I have taken Mr Lugger to task for his rather over-zealous behaviour.
“Please think nothing of it,” Aubrey replied, feeling a little mollified by the obvious sincerity of her apology. “I can understand the man’s desire to protect you, and I rather feel Debdon came off worse than I did.”
Mrs Dashton bit her lip and he could tell she was trying hard to curb her amusement.
“He, did, rather didn’t he?” she replied with a rather choked sound to the words.
Aubrey grinned.
“He’s not due this afternoon is he?” he added with misgiving, but happily Mrs Dashton shook her head.
“No,” she said, sitting herself down and placing her hands demurely in her lap. She looked up at him, her large, dark eyes framed by thick lashes and glinting wickedly with the promise of all kinds of decadent pleasures, quite at odds with the rather coy arrangement of her lovely limbs. “We decided it was time to part ways.”
Nearly Ruining Mr. Russell Page 5