Curse of the Mayfair Mummy (Wiggons’ School #4) (Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies)

by Jane Charles

  Bloody hell! When had he become a smitten fool? It was certainly out of character and something he must bring under control. There was too much work to be done and too much at stake. Wanting more from his ward would never do and he must learn to put her from his mind and blind himself to her attractiveness, as well as ignore her intelligence, sharp wit and quick mind. If he did not, he might succumb to emotions far more damaging than admiration.

  However, once she attended Ascot and appeared at his mother’s ball, he’d not need to spend any more time with her. If she discovered anything of note at any function, she’d know where to find him to relay such information.

  The one matter that Henry was most confident in was that Miss Doyle, once introduced, would be become the most sought-after miss and bachelors and lords would flock to her like bees to honey, curious as to who she was.

  Yes, she’d make an excellent agent for the crown and be able to work within the safety of Society.

  Blast! If Miss Doyle was to attend Ascot and a ball, she’d need the proper clothing.

  Well, at least it gave him a purpose for being out. He’d order the necessary items from Mrs. Halford and then schedule a meeting at the house in Dalston. Westbrook wouldn’t be there, of course, and for a moment Henry wondered if he’d need to go in disguise. He was supposed to be distancing himself from the notorious rakes.

  Chapter 9

  Ah, this was his favorite place to be, outside of his library, of course.

  Henry sipped from brandy, his legs stretched out before him, legs crossed at the ankles and his stockinged feet resting on a small table. His fellow Devils were as comfortably arranged in the large sitting room in the house in Dalston and a few stood beside a window enjoying cheroots.

  “Does anyone know if the theft has been solved?” Mr. Declan Keegan asked.

  Henry glanced at his friend. “What theft?”

  “The theft, in Mayfair, only a few doors down from yours,” Mr. Julian Ashford answered as if Henry should already know about it.

  Alarm shot through Henry. “There was a theft near my home? What did they take? Was anyone injured?” Miss Doyle was in his home. Of course, there were several servants who could offer protection, but none could protect her as well as Henry.

  “The thieves broke in while the family was away, tied up the servants, and took the Egyptian artifacts that were going to be handed over to the British Museum,” explained Mr. Michael Darton.

  Pickmore stood and crossed to the sideboard where he refilled his glass. “Yes, I read about the theft at Lord Edgeworth’s home. I had been by the day earlier to view the display. It was rather impressive.” Pickmore turned to the gathering. “He even had the sarcophagus laid out so visitors could view the mummy.”

  “Good God,” Henry muttered. If that didn’t give members of household nightmares, he wasn’t quite certain what would. “And all of that was taken.”

  “Only the sarcophagus was left behind. They even took the mummy,” Lord Raphael Clarke answered. “Bow Street assumed the sarcophagus was too heavy to carry.”

  “Have other homes been robbed?” Henry asked, still concerned with Miss Doyle’s safety.

  “No, only Edgeworth.”

  That didn’t mean that everyone else was safe from intrusion and for those reasons, he’d make certain his home was not vulnerable to thieves, and that Miss Doyle was protected. “If all of you knew, how come I didn’t?” Henry demanded.

  “It’s in all of the newssheets,” Pickmore answered.

  Probably in the very ones scattered across his library—the ones he tried to read but couldn’t concentrate on because he allowed himself to be distracted by the presence of Miss Doyle.

  What other news had he missed?

  “Why the blazes would someone want a mummy,” Mr. Rhys McNaught asked from his perch beside the window where he smoked a cheroot.

  Pickmore shrugged. “There is still value in such an item, though I don’t know who would purchase it. If they approached the British Museum, they’d want to know how they came by it, thus they’d be arrested for the theft.”

  “Well, enough about mummies and artifacts,” Lord Oliver Sellers proclaimed. “We’ve plans to make and we are now one less Devil.”

  “Norbright is lost to us,” Keegan lifted his glass in a toast.

  “Witnessed the vows. He’s relinquished being a Devil for the arms of one woman,” Ashford shook his head with sadness.

  They all knew Norbright had married a teacher at the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies at Christmas. He’d gone there to capture French spies being smuggled into England but ended up with a wife instead.

  “This too, will be my last visit, gentlemen,” Henry announced. “But my heart goes with you and I look forward to reading about your debauchery in the gossip rags.” He toasted his fellow Devils.

  “Yet, I’ve returned.” Pickmore grinned. “So all is not lost.”

  The group chuckled, glad to have Pickmore back in their ranks.

  “Then I will need to come up with something especially scandalous to announce your return,” Darton declared.

  “You were most recently in India,” Clarke considered thoughtfully. “Perhaps Kama Sutra should be introduced to the Devils, under your guidance of course.”

  McNaught jumped from his seat. “We need a harem.”

  Mr. Simon Lennox choked on his brandy. “As if orgies haven’t been enough?”

  “It’s been months since we’ve shocked the ton,” McNaught argued.

  “The idea does have merit,” Clarke agreed.

  “Englishmen do not have harems,” Ashford argued.

  “On the contrary,” Pickmore argued. “I know of a handful of Englishmen living in India who have embraced the practice.”

  Darton snorted. “One wife is bad enough, I can’t imagine wanting more.”

  “If it were an English wife, then I am quite in agreement,” Clarke agreed, then grinned. “However, a number of women who have been raised only to care for me, my comfort and pleasure is an entirely different matter.”

  Henry rubbed the bridge of his nose. While making Society think that Pickmore had set up a harem could be quite enjoyable, Pickmore did currently reside with him and Henry would need to consider all of the ramifications to his reputation, which was supposed to be distancing himself from this group of men.

  Then there was Miss Doyle, who was also in the house and he’d not have her reputation tarnished.

  With a groan, he finished the rest of his brandy while he revealed his dilemma. By the time he was finished, they all gaped at him.

  “Ward?” McNaught questioned.

  “Won on the turn of a card?” Sellers.

  Darton laughed. “You mean that Irish whelp was serious? And, you kept her?”

  That’s right. Ashford and Keegan had been there when the game was played.

  “You wish to make her a spy?” Lennox was the most outraged of all.

  “Well, what else am I supposed to do with her? She’s mine for two years.”

  “Can’t you send her somewhere?” Keegan demanded.

  “Where the blazes am I supposed to send her?”

  “Your mother,” McNaught suggested. “She can dress her up, parade her around, maybe find her a husband to take this Miss Doyle off your hands.”

  “I’ll give it some thought. Perhaps after Mother’s ball I’ll consider the option.” Though he told them how he’d come by Miss Doyle, he’d not revealed the wager he and Pickmore had made.

  “Then we’re agreed.” Pickmore stood. “Miss Doyle gets trained, she attends Ascot then the ball, then Kilsyth will ship the young woman off to his mother, I’ll find a home, then establish a Harem for the Devils.” He finished with a grin.

  “You know it’s going to be impossible to establish a harem,” Henry finally said. It was difficult enough to keep up the pretense of their debauched lives, but where would they find enough women to actually live in the house and who were willing to remained
veiled whenever they left? Henry saw a number of issues that would not only fail but could cause Society to wonder if anything was true.

  Pickmore and McNaught shared a look. They both knew it was impossible

  “It was worth consideration,” McNaught admitted. “But an impossibility.”

  “Sadly, I must agree,” Pickmore admitted. “But it would have been grand indeed.” He laughed.

  “I cannot wait to meet this Miss Doyle,” Darton announced.

  This time Henry came to his feet. “None of you are to go near her. Not at my home, not at Ascot and certainly not at my mother’s ball. I’ll not have her name sullied so quickly.”

  Most gentlemen would have been insulted to be warned off with such vehemence but as each of them embraced their roguish reputations, none were offended.

  “The women are here,” Miles, the butler announced.

  The women were, in fact, hired actresses who when requested came to the house if they weren’t already scheduled to perform on stage. However, they always arrived and left veiled so they were not recognized, and stayed the night to give the illusion of debauchery. Usually this meant for an enjoyable evening out of sight and earshot of Society. The women looked forward to a filling meal prepared by the cook, the coin they earned, and many stayed up most of the night in conversation with the Devils. To Henry’s knowledge, not even a kiss had been exchanged between the Devils or any of the women, let alone what Society believed went on in this house. However, it was a pleasant evening where men and women simply enjoyed the company of each other without pretense. Henry was going to miss these evenings.

  “Well, gentlemen, I shall take my leave. Have an enjoyable evening.”

  “I suppose I should go as well,” Pickmore added with a bit of disappointment. “But, never fear, once I’m no longer under Kilsyth’s roof, I’ll be joining you on any escapade you invent.”

  Henry just shook his head as he left. Harem! Were they really out of ideas to shock the ton? Maybe it was time for the Devils of Dalston to change their ways and repair their reputations. Except, as respectable gentlemen, would they still be a benefit to the Home Office?

  The day had finally arrived! After living in Lord Kilsyth’s home, and enduring his presence as he made her recite her vowels and a series of words, while at the same time trying to deny her attraction to her guardian, Eve was now at Ascot.

  She could barely sleep last night for the excitement of it all.

  “Remember, Miss Doyle, you must not speak to anyone.”

  Eve dutifully nodded as she didn’t wish to talk at all but watch the magnificent horses race.

  “You did warn your mother that we’d be attending and intended to sit in her box?” Pickmore asked with concern.

  “I find it is better to surprise my mother in these situations.”

  Eve blinked at him. “She doesn’t know ta expect us?” Goodness, what if there wasn’t a place for the three of them?

  Kilsyth’s eyes bore into hers. “Not a single word.”

  Eve bit her bottom lip to keep from retorting that they were still in the carriage and nobody could hear them. Instead, she nodded because she didn’t want to give Kilsyth a reason to take her back to the townhouse. Oh, he could be quite irritating indeed, but she had only a few more weeks in which she must go along and behave as he wished. Once the ball was over, she’d blister his ears, take the necklace, and disappear if she wished. He may be her guardian, but she’d not continue to let him dictate her days. If she didn’t want a visit to Ascot and her necklace back, Eve would have given him a piece of her mind already.

  However, the tension continued to build between them and when Kilsyth assisted her from the carriage and offered his arm, a current of heat sizzled within and Eve wasn’t certain if she wished to yell at him, or lean in closer to his person. It was all so disconcerting and the sooner there could be distance between them, the better off she’d be.

  As they made their way through the crowds, Pickmore nodded to people while Kilsyth barely acknowledged the presence of others, so intent on gaining his mother’s box.

  Was he always so rude when in Society?

  “Henry,” his mother cried in alarm. “I wasn’t expecting you today.” Her eyes shifted from her son to Eve, then to Pickmore.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Kilsyth.” Pickmore bowed low and kissed the air above her hand.

  “Might I present Miss Eve Doyle,” Henry said.

  Again, Lady Kilsyth glanced at Pickmore for clarification. “The ward won in a wager?” she whispered in alarm.

  “The very one,” Kilsyth announced with a grin. “I do hope you will make room for us to join you.”

  She glanced around, almost appalled at the very idea, but finally nodded. “Mrs. Hilliard is to join me today, along with her son, Mr. Francis Hilliard.”

  Kilsyth sniffed. “Tell me, has Francis done anything with himself, or does he still cling to his mother’s apron strings afraid to go out into the world on his own?”

  “Henry!” Lady Kilsyth slapped her son’s arm with her fan. “You will behave or I’ll ask you to leave.”

  “Very well. I’ll make nice, but that is only because I don’t wish to be out there, with the others.”

  While some owned boxes, such as Lady Kilsyth, many in attendance were with larger gatherings, in the opening. That is where Eve had always been and she’d fed on the excitement of the crowds.

  Lady Kilsyth turned to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Doyle.”

  As she’d been warned not to speak, Eve simply smiled and nodded in respect.

  “Yes, well, shall we find our seats,” Kilsyth suggested.

  Once again Lady Kilsyth sent a questioning look to Pickmore and then led them to her box.

  Eve took a seat and looked toward the track. Soon the racing would start and with that, the real excitement.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Kilsyth,” An older woman stated as she entered, followed by a young gentleman.

  Lady Kilsyth quickly made introductions and through it all, Eve spoke not a word. When Mr. Hilliard moved to take the seat next to her, Kilsyth quickly slipped into it as Pickmore took the one on her other side. Mr. Hilliard frowned and settled beside his mother. However, even during conversations, Mr. Hilliard watched Eve with interest. It was all very disconcerting.

  “Miss Doyle, here is the list of horses in the first race. Is there one you prefer?” Pickmore asked.

  Thank goodness, something she could do without fear of speaking.

  She picked up the listed and strained to read the print, but was unable to do so.

  “Vanity has no place when practicality is required, Miss Doyle,” Kilsyth scolded. “I did not replace your spectacles so that they would be tucked away in your reticule and of no use to you.”

  Her face heated, but Eve didn’t like to wear them in public. However, she did want to know who would be racing today, so she withdrew the spectacles, ducked her head and then scrolled through the names, familiar with most of them and settled on one, pointing it out to Pickmore.

  “If I win, I’ll split the winnings with you,” he whispered as he rose to go place his bet.

  As soon as the seat was vacated, Mr. Hilliard slid into it and turned to Eve.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” He smiled at her.

  Eve shook her head.

  “Is this your first time at Ascot.”

  Again, she shook her head.

  “Do you know much about horses?”

  At that she nodded.

  With each question and her non-verbal response, Mr. Hilliard’s smile slipped.

  “Forgive me, but do you not talk?”

  It was rather blunt of him, especially amongst those in Society, but Eve was not offended and admired the honesty of his question. After all, she wasn’t the one who decided to remain quiet but was doing it at the order of her guardian.

  “Miss Doyle lost her voice,” Kilsyth lied.

  Eve blinked at him. He told
the falsehood so easily and it didn’t sit well with her. Not one bit, yet there was nothing she could do about it in this setting.

  “Ah,” Mr. Francis said, smiling again. “I hope you enjoy the race.”

  Inwardly Eve sighed. It was so hard to remain quiet and she must for the remainder of the afternoon. This just might be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.

  Chapter 10

  Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies,

  Cornwall, England

  “Since when are you suddenly interested in Mrs. Fairview’s journals,” Sophia asked when she found Eliza tucked in a chair reading through the pages.

  Eliza put it aside and faced her friend, excitement in her grey eyes. “Since that mummy has yet to be recovered.”

  “I doubt it will find its way here,” Sophia sank down onto her bed. Even though Bow Street had searched, they’d not been able to locate the mummy or the expensive artifacts. Given it’s been nearly two weeks, they could have been smuggled onto a ship and sailed out of England by now.

  “We don’t know that it won’t,” Eliza countered.

  At that, Sophia nearly groaned. She recognized the gleam in her friend’s eye, which was usually followed by an outlandish idea. These last months had been so blissful without Eliza seeing vampires, ghosts or witches around every corner. Would they now need to be on the lookout for a mummy? It’s not like it could move about on its own. Of course, with Eliza’s imagination, she might be convinced it could come alive.

  “Even if it did somehow show up here, all we’d have to do is inform the authorities.”

  At that Eliza frowned. “But what of the curse?”

  “There are no such things as curses,” Sophia insisted.

  “Are you so certain?” Rosemary asked as she glided into the room.