When You Wish

by Alexandra Ivy

  With an elegant motion the Devilish Dandy strolled toward the blazing fire that battled the damp chill in the air. Anthony felt his intrigue return as he detected the fine tension that stiffened the lean body.

  “As I told you, I made a promise to myself when I was in Newgate that I would devote myself to my daughter’s happiness,” he at last murmured, slowly turning to face Anthony with a somber expression. “Rather late, I will be the first to admit, but my intentions are sincere. I have seen Sarah and Emma make suitable matches. I have only to assure myself that Rachel will be safely settled before I can live out my life in obscure retirement in a small villa I own in Italy.”

  Anthony raised his brows. “And so you only wished to assure yourself that I meant to propose to Rachel?”

  He smiled wryly. “Not precisely.”

  “I thought not.”

  “Although my intention on coming to Surrey was merely to prevent Rachel from any outrageous antics, I have found myself extraordinarily distracted,” he confessed.

  It did not take a scholar to guess the identity of the older gentleman’s distraction.

  “Miss Carlfield?”

  “Yes.” He gave a humorless laugh. “For a gentleman of mature years I have become very foolish.”

  Anthony possessed a measure of sympathy for his companion. He was rapidly discovering that love occurred without warning and without sympathy for those it struck.

  “I suppose it is my turn to inquire of your intentions toward my cousin.”

  “My intention was simply to offer her a means of escape from her untenable position.” The Devilish Dandy left the fireplace to restlessly pace toward the towering bookcase. “I could not stand aside and watch her barter herself to a gentleman who would ruthlessly destroy her delicate spirit.”

  “An admirable s—sentiment,” Anthony murmured, easily able to recognize the allure of a sweet, helpless maiden in dire trouble to a jaded sophisticate.

  “But she refused my offers of money and even the promise to pay off her father’s debts.” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “She claimed there was only one means of help that she would accept.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Marriage.”

  “You intend to elope with Violet?”

  “Yes.” The green eyes blazed with determination. “Before you begin your protests, allow me to assure you that I have already confessed my true identity and spoken on the vast differences in our ages. I have also warned her that young maidens often imagine themselves in love with the first convenient gentleman when they are being compelled into an unwanted marriage.”

  “But she refused to listen to reason?”

  The Devilish Dandy grimaced. “She claims that her love is genuine and unshakable.”

  Although Anthony was not extraordinarily close to Violet, he did not believe she was a witless chit. She was certainly capable of knowing her own heart.

  “And what are your feelings?”

  “I love her,” he said with a simple sincerity. “I wish to take her to Italy.”

  There was a determination in his voice that assured Anthony that he had made his decision and nothing would sway him from his purpose. Certainly not any protest that Anthony might raise.

  “Since you are in no need of my blessing I assume there is something else you require from me?”

  The lazy smile returned. “As I noted, you are very perceptive.”

  “What is it?”

  “I intend to leave here Wednesday on the pretext of visiting nearby acquaintances. I wish for you to escort Rachel back to London on Thursday.”

  “It will, of course, be my pleasure to escort Rachel,” Anthony agreed, his gaze narrowing. “I am curious to learn, however, how you intend to spirit Violet away from this house.”

  The Devilish Dandy lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant motion.

  “I will return to London and arrange our travel to Italy. Next week Violet is expected to travel to stay with her cousin. Along the way she will stay at an inn. I will meet her there and we will leave during the night. By the time Mr. Carlfield realizes that she has disappeared it will be too late to halt us.”

  “A s—simple but no doubt effective plan,” Anthony congratulated.

  The older gentleman eyed Anthony squarely. “May I count on your support?”

  Although Anthony was not entirely convinced that the Devilish Dandy was an appropriate husband for his young cousin, he did know that he was far preferable to Mr. Wingrove. At least she would not be browbeaten and humiliated until her soul was broken.

  “I want your promise that you will treat Violet with the respect and consideration due her.”

  A startlingly tender expression softened the lean features. “She is more precious to me than my own life. I will do everything in my power to make her happy. And to make certain that she is not forced to remain with me out of necessity I will make provisions for a suitable allowance that will continue even if she chooses to leave Italy.”

  Anthony knew he could not ask for more. It was up to Violet to train this gentleman in the duties of being a proper husband. And he had an odd premonition that she was just the lady to accomplish the difficult task.

  “I suppose you could be no worse than Mr. Wingrove,” he conceded with a faint smile.

  The Devilish Dandy offered him a sardonic bow. “Thank you.”

  “And I will admit to a rather reprehensible desire to know that my uncle will be forced to step from behind his daughter’s skirts and accept his fate like a man.”

  “Yes,” the Devilish Dandy agreed with a wicked smile.

  “You may depend upon me,” Anthony assured the older gentleman.

  “Thank you.” He walked to the door and turned the lock, then he glanced over his shoulder. “You will let me know when the wedding is arranged?”

  Wedding.

  Anthony felt his heart leap with anticipation.

  “But, of course.”

  “Take care of Rachel. She is not nearly so invincible as she would have others believe.”

  “She will be cherished as the greatest treasure it has ever been my fortune to discover.”

  The gentleman gave a slow nod of his head, then pulling open the door, he swiftly disappeared into the hall.

  Left on his own, Anthony breathed out a small sigh. Although he was not particularly dismayed at the thought of having the Devilish Dandy as a father-in-law, he was not sorry he would be soon on his way to Italy. Having one volatile, highly unpredictable Cresswell in his life was quite enough.

  The thought was just passing through his mind when the sound of footsteps could be heard and Rachel herself appeared in the doorway.

  As always he felt a thrill of pleasure at the mere sight of her. This evening she looked delectable in a peacock-blue satin gown, her golden curls pulled back by a matching ribbon.

  He could not deny a faint hint of annoyance, however, as he noted her clear eyes and flawless skin. She obviously had not devoted her night to pacing the floor and searching her heart for the truth of her emotions as he had done. Indeed, she appeared to have slept without a care in the world.

  “Good evening, Rachel.”

  Stepping into the room, she offered him a faint frown. “Was that my uncle who just left?”

  Having determined that the Devilish Dandy did not intend to reveal his upcoming marriage to his daughter, Anthony realized he would have to guard his tongue.

  “Yes.”

  “What were you discussing?”

  Anthony shrugged in a negligent manner, hoping to ease the wariness he could sense shrouded about her.

  “He has decided to leave on Wednesday to visit a few acquaintances nearby and requested that I escort you back to London on the following day.”

  “Acquaintances? What acquaintances?” she demanded in sharp tones.

  “He did not offer any particular names and I did not feel it my place to quiz him.”

  “He knows no one in Surrey,” she
muttered. “What is he up to?”

  Hoping to distract her all too quick wits, Anthony smiled in a knowing manner.

  “Perhaps he is merely seeking an excuse to leave early without offending Mr. Carlfield. Your uncle is hardly the sort to enjoy rusticating in the country.”

  “My uncle may not enjoy rusticating in the country, but he does delight in offending others,” she pointed out in dry tones. “If he wished to leave, he would make sure that Mr. Carlfield was fully aware of his reason for departing.”

  “Does it truly matter?”

  “Yes. It is very worrisome.”

  He slowly strolled forward. “What is w—worri—some? The thought of having to share my carriage back to London?”

  “Of course not,” she denied with a hint of impatience. “I was referring to my uncle.”

  “He is no doubt capable of taking care of himself.”

  “I am not nearly so confident,” she muttered, clearly disturbed at the thought of her father loosened upon the world without her restraining presence. Anthony could not entirely blame her. No doubt she worried that his rather nasty habits from the past might return and plunge him straight back to Newgate.

  Barely aware of his movements, Anthony discreetly checked to make sure that he still had his valuables. Then, with an amused shake of his head at the realization that gentleman would hopefully be his father-in-law, he sought to change the subject.

  “Tell me, did you visit Julia this afternoon?” he demanded.

  His ploy was thankfully successful as the concern eased from her lovely face and a pleased sparkle entered the hazel eyes.

  “Yes. She could speak of nothing but the ball.”

  “No ill effects from her late night?”

  “None at all. I do believe that she has never been happier.”

  The vague concern that had been steadily building within Anthony brought a frown to his brow.

  “A rather disturbing thought,” he said softly.

  Rachel blinked in surprise. “What ever do you mean?”

  “In a few days we will be leaving Surrey,” he pointed out with a flare of regret for the poor child. “I begin to wonder if we have done Julia a grave disservice by teaching her to expect more of her days than sitting beside the window watching others through a telescope.”

  A hint of uncertainty dimmed her smile as she realized the logic in his low words.

  “Surely it is better to have known a few days of freedom? The memories will bring her happiness for some time.”

  “Or discontent as she longs for what she now knows to be out of reach. She was resigned to her life before our arrival. I wonder if we have done more harm than good.”

  The uncertainty deepened to dismay as Rachel considered just how bleak Julia’s future would be once they were gone.

  “You are right,” she breathed, her eyes darkening with concern. “We must do something.”

  Easy enough to say, but much more difficult to accomplish, Anthony sadly acknowledged. Julia’s fate belonged firmly in the hands of her family. No court would allow him to interfere, even if it did make his stomach twist to think of leaving that child in her cold, lonely house.

  “What would you have us do, my dear?” he asked in sympathetic tones.

  “We must confront Lady Broswell and demand that she take better care of her daughter. I now have proof that Julia does indeed belong to her.”

  Anthony did not question how she had gained her knowledge. He was far more concerned with keeping the fiery minx from tumbling them all into disaster.

  “Rachel, such a confrontation is more likely to frighten the woman into making Julia disappear completely. At least here she is properly fed and kept safe. If she were put in an orphanage or an asylum she would be prey to every bounder that wished to abuse her.”

  Her hands clenched at her side as she glared into his somber countenance.

  “Then what can we do?”

  For once Anthony did not have a ready answer. Although he was a gentleman who easily took command of difficulties, who indeed delighted in creating the possible out of the seemingly impossible, he could think of no simple solution to the problem.

  “I fear I do not know at the moment. It will take some time to consider the problem.”

  Her lips tightened in a dauntingly familiar manner. “I will think of something. Lady Broswell will not be allowed to make that girl suffer. She has caused enough pain for one lifetime. This time I will ensure that something is done.”

  Anthony heaved a sigh.

  Fate no doubt found it vastly amusing that a gentleman who had always lived a calm, placid existence with few disruptions had tumbled in love with a fiery, unpredictable minx who was quite likely to drive him to Bedlam.

  Thirteen

  Standing in the shadows of a small alcove, Rachel carefully tracked her father’s movements down the hallway and at last into the small parlor.

  After two days of attempting to speak with her father in private, she had at last given up the bold approach and resorted to a more subtle method. It had taken nearly two hours of hovering in the chilled hallway, but at last her efforts had paid off.

  She would have answers from her father. On this occasion he would not be allowed to slip away.

  Moving across the hall, Rachel silently slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. Busy pouring himself a glass of brandy, Solomon did not realize he was no longer alone until she spoke.

  “Hello, Father.”

  In obvious surprise he turned about to meet her narrowed gaze. It took only a heartbeat, however, for his practiced charm to return.

  “Ah, good day, Rachel.”

  “May I have a word with you?”

  “I fear I am rather occupied this afternoon.”

  Rachel placed her hands on her hips, not about to be dismissed after her long wait.

  “You appear to be oddly occupied every afternoon,” she accused.

  “Yes, well, so goes the hectic life of a toasted leader of society.” He gave an elegant shrug, then ran a hand down is deep-lavender coat. “Tell me, dearest, do you believe I have increased just a trifle about the waist? I accused my valet of moving the buttons, but he swears his innocence with tedious insistence. I can only suppose that he is telling the truth.”

  She gave a shake of her head at his deliberate attempt to distract her.

  “You are precisely the same size you were yesterday, and the day before, Father. I shall not be fobbed off with your foolishness.”

  “Foolishness?” He sniffed in disapproval. “My dearest, I assure you that when a gentleman reaches my advanced years his waistline is of prime importance. You would not wish me waddling about like poor Prinny?”

  There mere thought of her trim, always energetic father ever being as bloated as the unfortunate Prince Regent made her lips twist in reluctant amusement.

  “What I wish is to discover why you are deliberately attempting to avoid me.”

  “Do not be a goose,” he chided smoothly. “You know that I adore being with you.”

  “Really?” She took a deliberate step closer. “Then why are you forever disappearing the moment that I enter a room?”

  “I do not disappear.”

  “Yes, you most certainly do.”

  He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Your imagination is running away from you. I am merely occupied with overseeing the packing of my bags and ensuring that the carriage is prepared for my departure on the morrow.”

  Rachel did not have to be a mind reader to realize he was lying. Her father was a master at disappearing at a moment’s notice. And his servants had been well trained to ensure that they were always prepared. In his profession his very life depended on such ability.

  “Ah yes,” she drawled. “You are to visit your acquaintances, are you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “I do not believe I am familiar with these mysterious acquaintances.”

  A renegade flare of amusement glittered in the
green eyes at her mocking tone.

  “I fear there is nothing mysterious about Lord and Lady Halford. They are staid, dull, and tediously predictable country gentry. Indeed, the only thing remarkable about them is the fact that they haven’t the least conversation or wit. And as for their cook”—he gave a dramatic shudder—“well, let me just say that she has yet to discover a piece of meat or fish that she can not boil to the taste of an old shoe.”

  Rachel did not doubt that Lord and Lady Halford were as real as Father Christmas.

  “If they are so dull and their cook so unskilled, why do you wish to visit them?”

  He lifted his brows as if surprised by her perfectly reasonable question.

  “My dear, it would hardly be polite to be in the neighborhood and not at least pay my respects.”

  “Fustian. You have never concerned yourself with being polite to anyone. Indeed, you are notorious for your ill manners. Why would you care what they think of you?”

  “Egads, Rachel, you begin to sound remarkably like a wretched magistrate,” he complained, setting aside his untouched brandy. “Is there a particular reason for plaguing me with these endless questions?”

  She met his gaze squarely. “Because I think you are lying to me.”

  “My dear.” He pressed his hands to his heart in a gesture that was suitable for the stage. “I am wounded.”

  Growing increasingly annoyed with his smooth ability to feint her every thrust, Rachel tossed civility to the wind.

  “Not bloody likely. What are you plotting, old man?”

  The Devilish Dandy gave a sudden laugh at her peevish tone. “You know me far too well, my dear.”

  “Yes, I do. And I know when you are about to embark on something rash and dangerous.”

  He sent her a reassuring smile. “I promise that it has nothing to do with you.”

  She was not appeased. “Does it include Violet?”

  He stilled at her abrupt question, his expression impossible to read.

  “What would make you think such a thing?”

  “Really, Father, it is obvious you have developed a fancy for her,” Rachel retorted. “I do not believe I have ever seen you in quite such a stew over a young lady.”

  “I see.” With exquisite care the Devilish Dandy adjusted the cuff of his coat. “Tell me, do you like Miss Carlfield?”