“Oh,” Aubrey replied, wondering why his cravat felt suddenly a little too tight. “I ... I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that I ...”
“Oh no,” Mrs Dashton replied, laughing at him and shaking her head. “I think the viscount was rather relieved, to be honest.” She paused, watching Aubrey with the amused glitter of a cat toying with a mouse. “I’m dreadfully expensive,” she murmured.
Aubrey coughed and sat down as far from not beside her as he could without causing offence. She seemed rather pleased by that, he noted with chagrin.
“So, about Lord Winterbourne?” he asked, hoping to move the conversation, if not to safer ground, then at least safer for himself. “You said you would make enquiries.”
She nodded, then, and got to her feet to retrieve a small scrap of paper which she put into his hand. “That is the name of Winterbourne’s soldier servant. Devoted fellow, apparently. He swore blind that the marquess didn’t die at Waterloo by all accounts but he was silenced somehow.” She paused, her face growing serious now. “Mr Russell, have you ever met Lord Gabriel Greyston? The current Marquess of Winterbourne?”
Aubrey shook his head, alarmed by the look in her eyes. “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Mrs Dashton made a small disparaging noise. “It would be no pleasure,” she replied, her tone dark. “He’s a dangerous man. A ruthless one. You cross him at your peril, do you understand?”
Aubrey acknowledged a chill of foreboding and admitted to himself that he’d do a great deal to avoid ever crossing the man’s path, but it was tempered by the remembrance of Violette’s frightened face. If such a man had hurt so lovely a creature ... rage swelled in his chest and he met Mrs Dashton’s enquiring gaze. “Thank you, Mrs Dashton, you’ve been very plain, and I cannot thank you enough for this.” He held the scrap of paper aloft and Mrs Dashton smiled at him.
“Please be careful, Mr Russell, I fear you are wading into dangerous waters.”
Aubrey nodded and began to make moves to take his leave but Mrs Dashton got to her feet and sat beside him, laying a hand on his arm.
“There is really no need to rush off,” she said, her voice soft. “I am quite alone this afternoon, in fact it promises to be a dreadfully dull day.” She moved a little closer, her voice low and sultry and her lips tantalisingly close. “Won’t you stay and keep me company?”
A few short days ago Aubrey would have seized the opportunity - and Mrs Dashton - and counted himself a lucky dog, but the import of keeping Violette safe combined with a strange reluctance to be in any other female’s company held him at a distance.
He raised Mrs Dashton’s hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “You do me the greatest honour,” he said, hoping he wasn’t blushing like a mooncalf which was rather how the sophisticated Dasher made him feel. “But there are things that require my attention and someone ... who needs protecting.”
Mrs Dashton smiled at him, looking perhaps a little disappointed but not in the least offended. “Ah yes, Winterbourne’s young lady. It is a lady looking for him, I collect?”
Aubrey nodded and she gave him a sympathetic smile. “Is she in love with him, poor creature?”
“I don’t know,” Aubrey admitted, a tightness growing around his chest. “But she certainly cares enough to risk ruining herself to discover his whereabouts and to keep him safe.”
“And you, her knight errant,” she murmured, tilting her head and giving him a warm look.
Aubrey laughed and shook his head. “A very poor champion, I fear, but I will endeavour to do my best.”
“A very fine and gallant champion,” she whispered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Well then, run along, brave knight.” The words fluttering against his mouth like a seductive caress. “You have dragons to slay.”
***
Aubrey was relieved to exit Mrs Dashton’s home with rather more dignity than he had the day before, but his relief was to be short-lived.
He had intended to return to his rooms briefly before heading back to see Alex, but rounded the corner only to walk into the middle of what could only be described as a Cheltenham tragedy being enacted on his very own doorstep.
To his horror, he immediately recognised the brassy young woman whom Violette had discovered in the Seven Dials, clutching her screaming baby and shouting the odds with Mrs Meekham. The officious woman, who looked as though there was a bad smell under her nose at the best of times, was currently looking so utterly scandalised that she would likely succumb to a spasm at any moment.
“Oh Lord,” Aubrey muttered as he drew closer with trepidation and Mrs Meekham pointed a bony finger at him and pronounced with the aplomb of an aged Cassandra: “I always said you’d come to no good! Libertine!”
Sadly for Aubrey, this particular prophetess didn’t seem to lack for believers as a scandalised crowd was growing around them with terrifying speed. All of them stared at Aubrey with disgust and disapprobation as mutters of “For shame!” were only too audible.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, trying to take control of a situation that seemed well past getting a hold of.
“I been turned out of my lodgings, sir,” the tearful Jenny said, turning her pleading eyes on him and speaking over the ear-splitting cries of her child. “Mrs Wilbur stole the sovereign you gave me and tol’ her husband I never paid my rent, and it was already past three weeks due! I told ‘im I’d a sovereign but the miserable bugger, ‘e wouldn’t believe me and threw us on the street, and me and little Russ ‘ere ain’t got nowhere to go.”
He recalled with devastating clarity having put his card with his direction into the wretched woman’s hand. A mistake he swore to never make again when something the girl had just said caught his attention and held it. “You and little ... who?” Aubrey demanded, eyes wide with indignation.
“‘E was called Peter, sir, but seein’ as you was so kind ...”
“Good God!” Aubrey replied, turning as deep a shade of humiliated as it was possible to get. “But the child’s not mine!” he retorted, saying it good and loud to get the point across. All he could hear in reply however where disparaging noises, and in particular one wizened wit, who cackled with laughter and yelled.
“A sovereign for a babe, that’s the going rate wiv the nobs.”
It was only too clear he had been condemned in his absence, and as Mrs Meekham was growing ever more hysterical, he grasped Jenny by the arm and towed her up the street and away from his front door.
“Where we goin’, Mr Russell,” Jenny demanded, clutching the baby in one hand and her skirts in the other as she hurried after him. “Away from this ravening mob!” he yelled in fury. “What in the name of God possessed you to come to my door clutching that child and spouting such a story?”
“I never did!” Jenny exclaimed, grinding to a halt and staring at him in fury. “I only asked to see you, an’ said it was urgent. Then that old witch starts yellin’ at me about it being a respectable ‘ouse.”
“Of course she did, you addle-witted creature!” he replied in frustration, towing her forward again. “What did you think it would look like, coming to my door in such a manner?” Not that he didn’t sympathise with her plight, but the story of his infamy would be spread far and wide, and he had no doubt whatsoever that the scandal sheets would be full of Mr R, eldest son of Baron R and his little embarrassment! God, if his father disinherited him for this, he’d not be the least bit surprised.
He rubbed a weary hand over his face and looked up as Jenny touched her hand to his sleeve.
“I’m right sorry, mister,” she said, looking appalled. “I never meant to cause you no ‘arm. Not when you been so kind an’ all.”
Aubrey shook his head. “No. Forgive me. I should never have shouted at you. I’ve no idea what else you ought to have done, but don’t worry. We’ll sort your lodgings out,” he said with a smile, and then stared at her as a dreadful thought occurred to him. “Wait. If this Wilbur creature stole the
sovereign, do you mean to say neither of you have eaten?”
“Not a crumb, sir,” Jenny said, not needing to try in the least to look utterly pitiable. Aubrey thought perhaps the baby was ten or eleven months old, but it was all skin and bone, so it was hard to tell. He remembered the very fine meal he had enjoyed the night before with the weight of guilt and sorrow, knowing these two poor creatures had gone to bed hungry.
“Then we’d best remedy that situation first, hadn’t we?” he said, understanding now Alex’s determination to build his orphanage and the creation of the house in France to give young women an alternative to selling themselves to live.
Jenny stared at him and then burst into tears.
“You’re a true gent, sir.”
“Don’t cry,” Aubrey pleaded in alarm, thrusting his handkerchief at her in horror and wishing the girl would at least try not to draw any further attention to them.
“Oh, I won’t ever be able to repay you, sir,” the girl moaned.
Aubrey paused for a moment his brow furrowing. “Actually, you might,” he said, as the girl sniffed and looked up at him. “Do you happen to know ...” He pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket and read the name aloud. “Corporal Charles Davis?”
“Cheerful Charlie?” she demanded, her face clearing a little. “‘Course I do! Everyone ‘round the Dials knows Charlie. Mind, I don’t know where ‘e is. Ain’t seen ‘im for an age now, come to think on it. But I can find out if you want?”
“Then you can consider your debt paid in full,” he said, giving her a kind smile which she returned before blowing her nose with some force on his handkerchief. “No,” he added, with a sudden shudder of alarm. “There is one other thing I’d ask of you.”
“Yes, sir?” she asked, with obvious trepidation.
“For pity’s sake, call the boy Peter!”
***
By sheer chance, they bowled into Lord Tindall before crossing Shaftesbury Avenue.
“Aubrey?” he called, raising a quizzing glass which he let fall rather abruptly when his gaze fell on Jenny and her babe.
“Tommy, thank God!” he said. By now he felt the urgent need to get to Alex and tell him about Cheerful Charlie, whilst at the same time discovering if the man could find a safe haven for Jenny. Two birds, one stone, he thought with relief. “I’m in the devil of a fix,” he admitted to his astonished-looking friend. “Do a fellow a favour and take Jenny here home, pay her shot, and make sure she and the child get some food, will you? I’ll sort the blunt with you later.” He squeezed Jenny’s arm and gave her a reassuring smile without waiting for Tommy to answer. With the speed of the Earl’s intellect, it could take time he didn’t have. “This is Lord Tindall, Jenny. He’ll take good care of you, and don’t worry, I’m not abandoning you, I promise, but I must go now. Violette needs my help, too, you see.”
Leaving Tommy gaping after him, Aubrey crossed the road and hurried onto Mayfair.
It was with the greatest relief he found Falmouth at home and informed him of his latest discovery.
“The fellow’s batman, eh?” Alex mused, staring at the name and nodding. “That’s a good place to begin. I’ll get my men to work on hunting him down, they’ll flush him out soon enough.”
Aubrey had little doubt that the fellow could be turned up, having seen the disreputable-looking crew who worked for the Earl. All were sailors and had at one time or another worked on the man’s growing fleet of ships. Aubrey had always had the niggling suspicion that some of his cousin’s dealings were a trifle smoky, to say the least, but he’d never dared pry any closer. Not when the men that worked for him looked like cut-throats and pirates.
“Oh,” he said, suddenly remembering his promise to help the unfortunate Jenny. “How is that orphanage coming on that you’re building with Ware?”
Alex’s eyebrows raised in surprise and he laughed. “Well, we’ve agreed on a placement, and plans are being drawn up as we speak. Building work should start in the spring. Why?” he demanded, a glimmer of suspicion in his eyes.
“Oh,” he said, disappointed. “Because the girl Violette hunted down in the Dials got thrown out of her lodgings and her poor baby is all skin and bone. It’s pitiful,” he added, seeing the compassion in his cousin’s eyes with relief. “I just wondered ...” He shrugged and gave a rueful grin. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d just like to see her in better circumstances, that’s all.”
Alex nodded his understanding. “Well, I can’t offer her a place there for some time, that’s for certain. But there might be something I can do for her. I’ll see what I can arrange.”
Aubrey let out a sigh. “Knew you were the fellow to ask,” he said with a smile.
Aubrey got to his feet, intending to go in search of Violette and see how she was settling in, when he noticed that Alex was regarding him with undisguised amusement. His hand flew to his cravat, wondering if perhaps it was all askew, or if his shirt points were wilted, but as all seemed in order, he was driven to comment.
“What?” he demanded, frowning.
Alex just shook his head but his smile grew.
“Dammit, Falmouth, cut line. If there is a joke at my expense, then I’ll thank you to inform me of it.”
There was a snort of amusement but Alex held out a placating hand. “Not a joke, Aubrey, I assure you, only ...” The man’s lips twitched a little. “I was just wondering how you managed it?”
“Managed what?” Aubrey demanded, feeling ever more perplexed.
“Managed to steal Mrs Dashton away from under Viscount Debdon’s nose? Come into an inheritance I was unaware off?”
Aubrey gaped at him in horrified silence. “I beg your pardon?” he managed, each word dripping ice when he finally found his voice again.
“That’s the latest on dit, I assure you,” Alex replied, clearly struggling to contain his amusement.
“Well, I hope you told them it was all a hum!” Aubrey retorted in disgust as a prickling feeling crawled down his back. Unlike some young men, he had never striven to be the centre of attention or enjoyed the sensation of all eyes upon him, not for any reason. The thought of people discussing him over their breakfast made him feel positively nauseated. “You know dashed well what happened!”
Alex nodded, his face sympathetic. “I do, of course,” he replied, getting to his feet. “But in my experience, it’s best to neither deny nor confirm; only adds fuel. It will blow over. Won’t do your reputation any harm with the ladies, mind,” he added with a wink. “They do love a rogue.”
Aubrey glared at him, knowing full well that Alex had been one of the biggest rogues around until very recently. “I have never had a desire to be considered a rogue, and I assure you I need no help with the ladies!” he snapped with some heat.
“No, no, of course not,” Alex replied, his tone soothing though Aubrey felt sure the blighter was laughing at him. “Though if I were you, I’d steer clear of Debdon for the foreseeable.”
“Oh God,” he groaned, wondering what on earth was going to befall him next. “I suppose the devil is after my blood, is he?”
“Something like that,” Alex agreed, looking disconcertingly cheerful at the idea.
“Well, do me a favour and arrange a decent burial, will you,” Aubrey muttered, much put out that his cousin could find so much entertainment in his misfortune. “Once you’ve finished laughing your head off at my expense, of course.”
“Oho,” Alex said, chuckling. “No need to fly into the boughs, young scapegrace. You’re not dead yet.”
Aubrey contented himself with muttering under his breath as he followed Alex to the door of his study.
“I suppose you’ll want to be seeing Violette?” he asked.
“How is she?” Aubrey asked, with a frisson of anticipation at seeing her again.
Alex shrugged. “I think the poor child has a lot on her mind, but Celeste has made her at home, and the two of them are thick as thieves, I assure you.”
Aubrey grinned a
t the idea. There was something very pleasing to him about Violette and Celeste being good friends.
“Mr Russell!”
He looked up at the landing to see that young lady’s face alight with pleasure at the sight of him and had to work hard to swallow a gasp at the vision that ran down the stairs. Alex withdrew discreetly to his study, which went a long way to soothing Aubrey’s ruffled feathers and made him feel almost warm towards his cousin once more, as he gave the mysterious Miss Mystique his undivided attention.
Celeste had clearly been hard at work, and he suspected that it was her gown that Violette wore to such good effect. A pale green, round dress embellished with white ribbon brought out the deep moss colour of her eyes and gave him the impression of early spring, when everything was fresh and new.
“Well, I say,” he said under his breath. “In prime twig, Violette,” he added with sincere approval.
Violette’s eyes lit with laughter. “Aren’t I though!” she replied, running down the last steps and doing a twirl for him. “Celeste is such a sweet creature, and so generous. Oh, Aubrey, she couldn’t have been kinder if I’d been her sister. The Earl, too - though I admit he’s rather terrifying, he’s been nothing but kind to me. Only ...”
“Only?” he repeated, holding out his hands to her.
She placed her hands in his, looking suddenly a little shy. “Only, I am causing you all such a lot of trouble,” she said, her eyes full of distress. “And ... and ...”
She glanced across the room and Aubrey noted the presence of a footman by the front door. He gestured towards the drawing room and they entered together, leaving the door ajar for propriety’s sake.
“What is it, Violette?” he asked, his voice low.
She walked a little away from him, her hands clasped tightly together. “I’m frightened of the trouble you may find yourself in, Aubrey. You and Lord Falmouth. If ... if anything happened to any of you, I’d never forgive myself!” she replied, sounding anguished.
Nearly Ruining Mr. Russell Page 6