What Happens in Piccadilly

by Bowlin, Chasity

  Averston stepped forward, closing the distance between them until he could lean casually against the edge of the desk. “That was the condition for my help, Burney, in finding your investors for you. But that isn’t all that’s between us, now is it?”

  Burney felt his pulse begin to race. “I can’t answer that question, can I? You seem to be the one with all the power in this equation.”

  Averston looked at him, his gaze glinting and hard even in the dim light. “Not all the power. I am here, after all. Aren’t I? I danced attendance on your pretty little sister. I’ve been sociable, Burney, when I did not have to be. Why do you think I did that?”

  “I don’t know, honestly.”

  Averston grinned, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. “Well, it certainly wasn’t for your sister. If we slip out now, we could be at the coffee house in Lincoln Fields in just a matter of minutes.”

  He was so tempted. Burney wanted that desperately. But he also knew that if he gave in, the power that Averston hinted that he had would be scarified. “I can’t. It’s impossible. We still have a house full of guests. And Amelia would be devastated if I were to simply disappear on such a night.”

  “But haven’t you done that already?”

  Burney laughed. “For a moment, yes. But not for the entire night. You really don’t understand family and all the associated obligations at all, do you?”

  “Why in heaven’s name would I?” Averston demanded. “I’ve certainly never had one. It seems like a great deal of trouble, honestly.”

  Burney said nothing for a moment, letting that and all its implied loneliness sink in. He hovered on the brink of ruin, living half his life in secret for fear of being jailed or worse because he had the audacity to love other men. And yet, in that moment, he was overwhelmed with pity for the wealthy, haughty man in front of him. “I can’t disappoint my sister… not even for you,” Burney said. “But if you wished to meet tomorrow night, I could certainly make myself available.”

  “Don’t play games with me,” Averston said, his tone steely. It was obvious that he was unused to being told no or not getting what he wanted from people. “I won’t be toyed with by you or anyone else. I’m not that man, Charles Burney.”

  “I rather thought that was what we were doing with one another… playing a game. You said yourself it can’t be anything more than that,” Burney replied. No matter his attraction to Averston, no matter how much he longed for the man to have some genuine affection, if not love, for him, he couldn’t simply give in to his every whim. “No complicated emotions or messy tender feelings. You can’t have it both ways. You said it yourself this afternoon. To get something, you have to give something.”

  Averston rose from his perch. “Careful, Burney. I may decide the price you ask is far too steep for the pleasure you provide.”

  “And I would argue that you will not see the worth of anything until it is out of your reach,” Burney replied.

  “Don’t bother coming to the coffee house tomorrow. I won’t be there.”

  With that, Averston walked out and Burney was once more alone in the darkness, left with the weight of the world and his family’s expectations pressing in on him, along with the fear that he’d overplayed his hand yet again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was midmorning when the dour-faced butler showed him into the drawing room. Burney’s palms were sweating and his heart raced with trepidation. What he was about to do brought him no pleasure. He was burning a bridge and ending a family connection that had lasted generations. But he was desperate. A letter had arrived just that morning from Phillip. He was threatening, as always, to expose the truth of Burney’s bachelor status. It would ruin him. It would ruin Amelia. And if he couldn’t get investors for Phillip, the best he could do would be to offer up enough funds himself to stay his cousin’s hand.

  Inside the elegantly appointed room, the curtains were drawn and the interior was very dim. She was seated on a velvet upholstered chair, holding court as if she were some despot on a throne. As he entered the room, her cold gaze settled on him. It reminded him of a snake—watchful and deadly.

  “You’re certainly a bold one,” she said. “I’ll give you that. State your business.”

  Burney stared at the disapproving face of the Dowager Duchess of Averston and wondered if perhaps he had not made a fundamental error in coming there. But he couldn’t tell Averston—Gerald—the truth of it. Even if Averston would agree to see him again after their quarrel the night before, what Burney had to say would destroy any chance of putting things right between them. It’s the only way. If the man discovered Burney had kept such information to himself, he’d be done with him entirely.

  “Thank you, your grace, for agreeing to speak with me,” Burney said, using his most ingratiating tone.

  “I was curious as to what you might have to say… or rather, what you might have to say that you think could be worthy of my interest,” she replied disdainfully. Even as she spoke, she was inspecting a tray of chocolates, looking for the most appealing morsel as she, for all intents and purposes, ignored his presence. There was no invitation to sit, no hint of welcome.

  “Oh, never fear, your grace. I have not come to waste your time. I have come with news of your long-lost granddaughter, heir to the Averston fortunes,” Burney replied smoothly. “Of course, if you feel the information unworthy of your time—”

  “What do you want for this information?” The question was snapped, her tone sharp and her gaze sharper still.

  “Four thousand pounds,” Burney replied smoothly.

  The old woman laughed. She laughed until she began to cough and wheeze, fanning herself exuberantly as she waved to her servant with her other hand. The servant rushed forward with a vial of what he could only assume was laudanum. The old woman took a small dram of it and then, after a moment, her coughing began to ease.

  “I have never known any information to be worth so much,” she stated blandly. “And what a specific sum to ask for, Mr. Burney. I imagine your sister’s debut last night set you back a tidy sum, did it not?”

  “My sister?” It sparked a fear in him like nothing else that the vicious woman was even aware of Amelia’s existence.

  The old woman smiled. “Indeed. Considering how closely you’ve become acquainted with my grandson, do you honestly think I would not make it a point to learn all I can about you? I know you inside and out, Mr. Charles Percival Burney, the third. Every dark and dirty secret… including the alarming amount of debt you’re facing. I am stunned you could get anyone to give you credit to hold such a soiree as you did last night.”

  “My sister has nothing to do with this,” he stated firmly.

  “Pretty girl… I suppose she might marry well enough. Assuming your behavior doesn’t cast a pall over her in the eyes of society,” the dowager duchess said, her cold gaze gleaming with triumph. “Share your information, Mr. Burney, and I will decide then if it warrants payment. You’ll get your four thousand pounds if I deem it so.”

  “I can tell you her name, where she has been reared during her absence from your eyes, and where she is currently employed,” Burney stated.

  “I would presume she’s earning a living as her mother did… lifting her shabby skirts for anyone who will toss her a coin,” the dowager duchess intoned in a manner that might have hinted at boredom if not for the quavering of her voice.

  Burney saw through her. He could see the slight tremor in her hand. She feared the girl. Whatever this woman had done, she feared the identification of her granddaughter. “No, your grace. Indeed, she is quite respectable… and looks so very much like the portrait hanging in pride of place in your family home. Indeed, the resemblance is so remarkable that anyone who should ever see that portrait will not fail to recognize her.”

  “Her name!” the dowager duchess demanded. “I would have it from you.”

  “And I would have payment first,” Burney replied, putting as much steel in his voice as he co
uld muster. He would not be made a fool of by another member of this family.

  The woman waved to her servant again. The girl, dressed all in black and looking like a scared rabbit, hurried away to do the dowager duchess’ bidding. Moments later, she returned with a mahogany box inlaid with pearl and gold. The dowager duchess removed a key from the pocket of her gown and fitted it into the lock box where she retrieved several bank notes. A footman stood by with quill and ink. They were signed hastily, sanded and then delivered to him by the same black-clad servant girl who’d fetched the box to start with. Four thousand pounds in hand. Burney stared at them for the longest moment. He’d sold his soul for them, after all, but at least his mother and sister would be safe.

  “She goes by the name St. James,” he said. “She’s currently employed as a governess for the Earl of Montgomery. But she’s not in house. She resides at the Darrow School and travels to and from the earl’s residence daily.” It had taken little enough to get that information out of a servant. He’d found his way there this morning and smiled at a pretty maid who’d trustingly obliged his every question.

  “Well, Mr. Burney, it seems you’re not as worthless as I thought you would be,” the dowager duchess said. She then waved her hand once more and all the servants departed, leaving them completely alone in the drawing room. “But I warn you, sir, you will stay away from my grandson.”

  “I believe that is up to him, your grace,” Burney said.

  “Oh, he thinks it is,” she said. “But he’d be wrong. He’s cold, you know, but not ruthless. Not really. I, on the other hand, I’d see your neck snapped like a twig and not lose a wink of sleep for it. They hang men for what you do.”

  Burney felt his cheeks coloring. “You can’t implicate me without exposing your grandson, and we both know you won’t do that.”

  “I can do a great many things, Mr. Burney,” she warned. “You have your payment for services rendered. You may leave now. Remember what I’ve said, and know that I will not hesitate to see you ruined. You and your family. Your sister… pretty and so very sweet. I imagine that four thousand pounds is but a drop in the bucket of your veritable well of debts. Do you know what happens to young women like her who wind up in debtor’s prison? Or worse… are left on the street to fend for themselves while their worthless male relations rot in the Marshalsea?”

  Burney’s fists clinched at his sides. “That will not happen. I will make certain my sister is cared for!”

  The dowager duchess smiled. “Gerald needs a wife, you know? How much would thank rankle, Mr. Charles Burney? How much would you love your baby sister when she’s taken your lover from you?”

  “My sister has nothing to do with this!” Averston would never do that, Burney thought. No one could be that cruel. And yet, there was enough doubt there that he had to wonder.

  “Not yet,” the dowager duchess said. “And if you wish to keep it that way, you have only to keep your distance. Good day, Mr. Burney.”

  Burney turned to exit, walking away with fury bubbling inside him. He wanted to rail at her, but that was power he didn’t have. Not yet.

  When he was gone, the dowager duchess’ servants bustled into her small drawing room once more. To her secretary, the meek-looking woman garbed in unrelieved black, she instructed, “Have Jenkins fetched and tell him to bring that other fellow with him. We’ve a bit of dirty work that needs to be done.” The woman left to do her task.

  “Shall I have them come through the servants’ entrance, your grace? After the events of their last visit…” the butler trailed off, his tone clearly disapproving.

  “No. Let’s not do that again,” she replied. The last thing they needed was some foolish maid screaming the house down. “Have them wait in the garden. I’ll go to them.”

  “Certainly, your grace,” the butler agreed before vanishing from the room to do her bidding.

  Alone, the dowager duchess drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair and considered the matter of Charles Burney. He’d have to be eliminated, of course, along with this girl he’d mentioned. They both posed too great a risk to all that she’d worked so hard for over the years.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Callie was exhausted by the time she arrived home that evening. She’d taken her day off and walked in the park, she’d strolled amongst the shops and even attended the morning service. But she’d done it all like an automaton. Her mind was not on her surroundings much less the vicar’s lengthy sermon. It was on Winn Hamilton, Earl of Montgomery, and the near seduction that had occurred. Though whether she’d been the seducer or the seduced remained in question. Yes, he’d pulled her into that room, but heaven knew, once there, she’d been bold enough in her own right.

  Entering the house on Jermyn Street, she bypassed Mrs. Wheaton and made her way upstairs. She loved the housekeeper dearly, but she wasn’t in the mood to be mothered. Wallowing in her misery seemed to be the safest option. She’d slept not at all the night before and all she wanted was to fall into her narrow bed and not move an inch until morning.

  Removing her day dress, she eschewed dinner altogether and immediately donned her nightrail and a velvet wrapper that had been an extravagant but much beloved gift from Effie. It was the finest thing in her entire wardrobe and was not intended to be seen by anyone. She smiled at that, as she settled down into the small armchair before the window. With the candle burning on the table beside her, she reached for the book that had been discarded there. She should have taken to her embroidery instead, as she’d begun making a few items for the children, but her heart wasn’t in it. No, a Gothic novel to take her mind off her own current predicament and hopefully allow her to sleep was just the thing. That the hero in the book, in her mind’s eye, looked shockingly like her employer was unimportant.

  A knock at her door interrupted her reading. It opened and Effie entered.

  “Oh,” Effie said. “I was going to suggest we have a private supper in my office as we have a great deal to discuss, but it appears you have other plans.”

  “I’m a bit tired,” Callie said. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Perhaps we could have that discussion later?”

  Effie’s expression shifted slightly, appearing almost melancholy for a second. “I don’t think we can. It’s very important. Are you certain you won’t come down for dinner? I’ll even break out the brandy no one is supposed to know that I have.”

  “I’m not very hungry, honestly,” Callie admitted. “I think my mind is racing too much for such things to enter it. And if you’ve something that important to say, that it required the consumption of strong spirits, then perhaps you should just get it out now.”

  With a look of chagrin, Effie stepped deeper into the room and settled herself on the edge of Callie’s narrow bed. While the rooms were small to be sure, they had been appointed comfortably. “I’m afraid I’m very obvious, aren’t I?”

  Callie nodded. “You rather are. It can’t be that bad, can it?”

  Effie clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m afraid that it can. I spoke with Madame de Beauchamps. She told me something that was rather unexpected… it seems that your parents were married in secret. Highcliff is tracking down the necessary documentation, but they were married Callie. If this is true, then you’re not simply an heiress, but you’re also legitimate.”

  That information simply refused to penetrate. Try as she might, Callie couldn’t quite grasp it. “I’m not a bastard.”

  “I detest the use of that word but, under the circumstances, it’s certainly a forgivable lapse,” Effie remarked. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

  “None of it seems real,” Callie stated. “It’s all like a strange dream where I can’t be certain what is truth and what is fiction. Everything I’ve known my entire life has suddenly been ripped out from under me.”

  “It’s a great deal to take in, isn’t it? Suddenly being faced with the knowledge that what you thought you knew about your origins is all wrong. But thi
s isn’t all bad, is it? To know that your parents loved one another… that they loved you?”

  Callie sighed. “I always assumed that my mother was too burdened to care for me, whether because she had other children or a dozen other reasons that crossed my mind. It never occurred to me that she might have abandoned me to save my life. And now I wonder if she knew.”

  “Knew what, dear?”

  “That I was the cause of her death… if she hadn’t had me, then she would have remained content as his mistress and no one would have cared.”

  Effie’s eyes widened. “That is not the way of it at all. I spoke with Madame de Beauchamps at length. Your mother had lost several babes already. I think she wanted nothing more than to have a child with the man she loved. And she didn’t die because you were born. She died because of the greed, pride and conceit of others. It had nothing to do with you.”

  Callie sighed wearily. “It isn’t only that… I’ve been so angry. For years, I’ve been angry at her, railed and cried and shouted my hatred for her!”

  “I’ve never heard you do any of that!”

  “I may have shouted it into my pillow,” Callie admitted ruefully. “Regardless, I felt it. Every day of my life. And to have born such ill will toward her and to now know the true circumstances, as best one can, I cannot help but feel so guilty and so ungrateful! I never even allowed for the possibility that her motives might have been anything other than selfish.”

  Effie rose then and walked toward her. She wrapped her arms about Callie and gave her a fierce hug. “My darling girl, you were a child who needed her mother! Of course you were resentful and angry… and yes, now that the truth has come out, you know that anger was misplaced. But it doesn’t change anything from your past. You cannot take on so and hold yourself accountable for how you felt when you only knew a small portion of the story. If that were so, I’d be as much to blame as you. I wasn’t a child, and even I, Callie, harbored great resentment for any woman who would be so foolish as to abandon a daughter so precious as you.”