In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL)

by Maggie Robinson

  “That was quick thinking, Mr. Norwich.”

  Charles had been in the army long enough to be acquainted with fleas, body lice, and a host of other unpleasant creatures. “There is someone at Rosemont who doesn’t like me, Griffith. Perhaps several someones. See if you can’t ferret out who is behind this recent mischief. Louisa tells me you are the center of Rosemont’s universe.”

  Griffith rubbed his white-gloved hands together. “I don’t know as I’d say that, sir. But rest assured, I’ll try to discover the culprit. This sort of thing puts us all to shame. Cook and Mrs. Lang and I as senior staff have a responsibility to the family that we take seriously. Nothing like this has ever happened here before.”

  “I would imagine not. But so far, no one’s died, right?”

  The butler shivered. “And so we hope no one will. Mrs. Evensong is in the small blue drawing room. Do you know where that is? I’ll take you there—it’s a bit cozier.”

  Small was a relative term, but the furniture in the blue drawing room was sturdier and more comfortable than the grand gold room they met in before dinner. Mrs. Evensong sat on a sofa with a teacup in her hand. She waited until Griffith withdrew before she spoke.

  “Good afternoon, Captain Cooper. I trust things are going well?”

  Charles joined her on the couch. “Not really. Oh, no one suspects I’m not who I’m supposed to be, but things aren’t quite right here. Someone put fleas in my dresser drawer, and yesterday I was poisoned with hallucinogenic mushrooms.”

  “What!”

  Charles had a feeling it took a lot to shock Mrs. Evensong and was proud of himself for succeeding. “Not to mention that the chauffeur tried to kill me, but that was all a misunderstanding. So you see, I’m earning every penny, not that I want Louisa’s money. I understand you have some news about that.”

  It took her a moment to digest Charles’s speech, and then she rallied. “That’s for Miss Stratton’s edification,” Mrs. Evensong said primly.

  “I’m not sure when she’ll be back. She’s out driving at the moment, causing terror to sheep and small animals everywhere.”

  “So Griffith told me. I can wait. In fact, Miss Stratton invited me to spend some time at Rosemont, although she neglected to tell her staff I might arrive at any moment. Understandable, what with all the fuss here. How do you feel about motorcars, Captain?”

  “I know next to nothing about them, except that Louisa loves them. I suppose I should be open-minded for her sake.”

  “It was not an idle question. Before I left London, I had a meeting with George Alexander.”

  “How is old George?” Interfering as usual, he’d bet. George probably had another plan for Charles’s future, all wrapped up with a shiny bow.

  “He’s very well. Mr. Alexander has presented me with an investment opportunity. You may not credit it, but I’m very interested in automobiles myself.”

  “Are you now?” Charles pictured Mrs. Evensong behind the wheel, her proper black hat blowing off on the road.

  “I am. Are you aware that Mr. Alexander has purchased the Pegasus Motor Company?”

  Charles had always been aware that George had more businesses than his pottery works, but he did find this news surprising. “I am not. Bully for him.”

  “He’s asked me to approach you—”

  Charles raised a hand. “While I know George means well, he cannot continue to keep rescuing me. As I said, I don’t know anything about cars.”

  “But you do know how to command men. And you are honest to a fault, when you’re not pretending to be Maximillian Norwich. Mr. Alexander wants to build a manufacturing plant outside New York City, and a showroom on Fifth Avenue. He’d like you to be in charge of the American operation with all that it entails—hiring workers, sales personnel, an architect, meeting with engineers and the design team to ensure that Pegasus is in the forefront of twentieth-century transportation.”

  Charles laughed. The idea was absurd. Better he should be asked to glue wings on a real horse. “He’s asking the wrong person. You should be talking to Louisa.”

  “Perhaps you should do that.” Mrs. Evensong’s expression was inscrutable behind her gray lenses.

  “Wait a minute. What do you mean?”

  “It’s obvious you’ve formed a tendre for her, even after so short a time. If you went to New York, you might ask her to go with you.”

  The woman had been with him less than five minutes. How could she know? “Mrs. Evensong,” Charles said slowly, “are you playing matchmaker?”

  “Do I need to again? I rather thought I was successful the first time.”

  “You thought that Louisa and I—that we would—” He struggled to avoid the words love or lovers or, God forbid, fuck.

  “Become close? I did. You were both ripe for dalliance. Miss Stratton deserves someone special.”

  “Believe me, I’m nobody special,” he sputtered. “You did investigate me?”

  “Oh yes. Quite thoroughly. The Evensong Agency is no fly-by-night business.”

  Charles got up and walked to the window, his legs shaky beneath him. His head was spinning again, and he’d come nowhere near a mushroom. One of the maids was fishing an undershirt out of the bushes.

  “Miss Stratton has had difficulty with her family. There may be no mending the rift. I work miracles, but Grace Westlake is a challenge even for me. It might do Miss Stratton a world of good to remove herself from Rosemont again, this time with someone who values her for her many good qualities. You do value her, don’t you, Captain?”

  Charles’s mouth was dry as dust. He nodded. What he felt for Louisa couldn’t be put into words anyway.

  “Excellent. Well, we shall see what happens. I have a letter here in my bag from Mr. Alexander that explains the particulars. His terms are very generous, certainly more than enough to support a wife and family in some style.” She handed Charles a thick envelope, which he put in his coat pocket. He’d read it if his head ever cleared.

  A wife and family. Would it be possible? If he had prospects, could Louisa see her way to marrying him? He’d asked, but he knew she didn’t take the offer seriously.

  “May I pour you a cup of tea, Captain? You look a trifle disconcerted.”

  “Yes, you may, Mrs. Evensong. You’ll be happy to know lately tea satisfies me as much as gin used to.”

  “I am not at all surprised. Like George Alexander, I recognized the silver beneath the tarnish. Ah! I hear a car coming up the drive now.”

  For an old woman, her hearing was excellent. In a few minutes, Louisa joined them, her cheeks pink and eyes shining. She looked almost—almost—as beautiful as she did after Charles brought her to orgasm.

  “Mrs. Evensong, you came! Welcome to Rosemont.”

  “I told you I would as soon as I had news to impart. May I speak frankly in front of Captain Cooper?”

  “Of course! I trust him implicitly,” Louisa said, smiling at Charles with an openness that pierced him to the core.

  “Mr. Baxter and I spent several hours going over your account books yesterday. He sends his apologies, by the way, for it was clear to him at once that he should have paid more attention. Your suspicions were correct—someone was diverting your funds.”

  “Who?” Louisa asked.

  “I will be in a better position tomorrow to reveal that. Mr. Baxter is interviewing the person even as we speak. Now, don’t be concerned. The missing money is hidden safely in another account bearing your name. Nothing has been stolen.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “As I said, we’ll explain it tomorrow. I might use my time at Rosemont today to discover who has been targeting Captain Cooper.”

  Louisa’s golden brows knit. “Charles, I thought you believed the mushroom business was just an accident.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t explain the fle
as.”

  “Fleas!”

  “Don’t worry. Most of them were dead. But someone put them in with my smalls.”

  “What? When?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure. You know I don’t wear them, Louisa.”

  Well, there went his discretion. Louisa blushed but didn’t show one inch of shame in front of Mrs. Evensong.

  “You have been getting along well,” the woman murmured.

  “Extremely,” Louisa said. “Oh my goodness. You don’t suppose bugs were put in my lingerie drawer, do you? Kathleen will have a fit.”

  “I’m sure she would have noticed. I would guess someone entered my room yesterday when I was in yours, or this morning when we were at church.”

  “I’d better find Kathleen. Mrs. Evensong, you’ll excuse me, won’t you?”

  “Of course, my dear. It’s time I explored Rosemont on my own. You two young people should enjoy what’s left of the daylight.”

  “Let’s go for a walk in the garden, Charles. If you’re up to it.”

  Charles was up to anything if it involved Louisa Stratton.

  Chapter

  34

  The sky was smoke gray. Dusk was approaching, but Louisa was in no hurry to return to the house and dress for dinner. She wanted to give time to the squadron of maids who were turning out their rooms in search of six-legged creatures.

  It wasn’t the six-legged creatures that worried her. Who was the two-legged villain behind this latest insult to Charles?

  If Hugh were a twelve-year-old boy, he would fit the profile perfectly. But no one had seen Hugh all day, and fleas seemed too foolish even for him.

  Kathleen and Robertson felt guilty, and so they should. They’d started all this with their misplaced concern for Louisa’s virtue. It was like opening Pandora’s box—what would happen next to poor Charles?

  He didn’t look poor as he examined one of her grandfather’s gargoyles with an appreciative grin on his face. It guarded a circle of old roses, bourbons and damasks and gallicas, which were now just thorns and canes. This gargoyle, or grotesque if she were to be accurate, was almost as tall as Charles, with horns and hooves and a forked tongue. It was remarkably hideous, and it had always been her favorite.

  “What’s this ugly fellow’s name?” Charles asked.

  “Lambkin.”

  “No, really.”

  “It is Lambkin. He is quite terrifying, so I gave him a name to neutralize that. I always imagined he was soft-hearted inside all the granite. Sad because he was judged on his appearance.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Charles agreed. “I was dazzled by yours, of course, but thought you were—”

  “Just a ‘silly society girl,’” she finished. “Yes, I remember.”

  “It’s hard to believe it was only a few days ago.” He tucked her arm in his and continued walking on the crushed stone that connected all the gardens. Louisa wished he could see them in bloom—the gardens were romance spelled out in roses.

  Did she want romance from Charles? Yes, she did.

  She was very, very close to accepting his offer of marriage. He was solid, someone she could depend on, someone who laughed with her and not at her. When she was with him, she didn’t feel the need to invent Maximillian Norwich or anyone else. Charles was somehow enough, and she felt “enough” with him without resorting to her usual flights of fancy.

  “Are you cold, Louisa? It’s getting dark.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I’m fine. I have you to keep me warm.”

  “Let me go back and get you a warmer wrap. Why didn’t you wear your fur coat? The night’s finally feeling like December.”

  “Sometimes I don’t feel right wearing it. All those beautiful little snowy animals killed and sewn together just to cover my body.”

  “So you won’t eat the roast lamb at supper tonight,” he teased.

  “That’s not the same thing. One doesn’t eat ermine—that would be like dining on rats.”

  “I hear rats taste like chicken.”

  “Charles!”

  “Well, prisoners sometimes consider themselves lucky when they catch one. The Boer women—” A sudden shadow fell over him, deeper than the dusk in the garden.

  They walked in awkward silence, the only sound the pebbles scattering under their boots and the gulls calling over the rushing sea. What could she say to ease him?

  “You will never forget.”

  He didn’t look at her. “How can I?”

  “You can’t. You shouldn’t. What you can do is publish those journals of yours so that others will know and not let it happen again. I can help you with that. Find a publisher. Pay to have it printed if I need to.”

  He pulled away and sat on an iron bench. “I don’t want to spoil what we have, Louisa. I’m afraid if I read over it and relive it all again, I’ll kill the happiness I feel now. The first true happiness of my life, really. The guilt will always be with me, but when I’m with you, it’s not so—not so sharp.”

  “Aren’t you the one who said we can’t let past mistakes determine who we are?” If those were not his exact words, it was at least the lesson she’d learned from being with him.

  “That makes me sound much wiser than I am.”

  Louisa sat down next to him. “We can try to be wise together. My aunt Grace will never see me as anything but the wild child I was. And truthfully, I deserve her criticism. I went out of my way to break all her rules, and look where it got me.”

  “Hey, wait a minute. You’re with me in the twilight, with the waves breaking beyond the hedges. I’d say you didn’t do too badly.”

  “Exactly. Every misstep led me to you.”

  “Oh, Louisa.” He took her face in his hands. “I love you.”

  His kiss proved it—hot, dark, full of longing and hope. If she married him, she’d make him kiss her like this every twilight, every dawn, and the hours in between.

  I love you. No one had told her that and meant it, except perhaps for her parents so long ago, and she couldn’t remember that.

  She lost herself in the moment, oblivious to everything but his steady touch and the sure sweep of his tongue. She felt much more than the desire to have him possess her body. Though that thought was not far off, the bench in view of the bank of windows made it impractical. Louisa wanted to pledge herself to this man, heart and soul, and realized he’d just given her the words to do it.

  That would mean she’d have to stop kissing him, which she couldn’t possibly do. She had time to tell him how she felt. All the time in the world. Right now, she would kiss him as if her very life depended on it.

  The kiss had both hard edges and blurred lines, so she was never sure where it would go next. It was electrifying—no, comfortable. Sweet, then so sensual she found herself tugging at Charles’s buttons. He covered her shaking hand and pressed it against his rigid cock. She did that to him—they did something magical to each other, for she was wet beneath her lacy bloomers. If only the hours would fly by until they were in their bed alone.

  But there was family to endure, and Mrs. Evensong to entertain. With the greatest regret Louisa inched away from Charles and smoothed his eye patch in place. His visible eye was midnight blue, so deep and dark with lust she shivered.

  “Louisa.” He said her name with breathless reverence, and she felt warm. Kissed all over.

  “I love you, Charles. I’ll marry you.”

  Surprise, joy, and fear, too, flashed across his face. He kissed her again, this time so gently she thought she would weep. His thumb brushed her lashes, and Louisa realized she was crying, just a little. She had never in her life felt so happy, not even when she’d run away.

  “You won’t regret it, I swear.”

  “But you might,” she said, laughing shakily. “I’m quite a handful.”

  “And
you fit so perfectly in mine. When can we marry?”

  “Oh my goodness. The family thinks we already are married. I guess we could sneak away somewhere. Obtain a special license. But damn it, it’s Advent. No minister will agree to marry us.”

  “So,” Charles said, grinning, “we’ll have to continue to live in sin. Lots of it.”

  She gave his shoulder a friendly slap. “You are very wicked.”

  “So I’ve been told. What about a registry office? Or have you always had your heart set on a church wedding?”

  “You know perfectly well I never planned to marry at all. My heart wasn’t set on anything.”

  “Until you met me.”

  “You are growing increasingly smug, Charles. I might just change my mind.”

  He held her hand to his heart. “You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

  No, she wouldn’t. A life with Charles was bound to be interesting. Louisa didn’t have the first idea how to be a proper wife, but she had a feeling Charles would not want her to be especially proper.

  However, she couldn’t see him navigating through the fussy gilt French furniture at Rosemont. They’d have to sell it all. Aunt Grace would howl—

  “Why are you frowning? You’re supposed to be delirious with happiness,” Charles chided.

  “I am happy. I was just thinking very housewifely thoughts.”

  “Well, stop. I prefer your smiles.”

  Louisa gave him one—it was effortless when she looked at his handsome face. He was ever so much more handsome than Maximillian Norwich, who would not have to die after all.

  “Oh my goodness.”

  “Again?”

  “What will we tell my family about your name when we really marry? You can’t go through the rest of your life being called something you aren’t.”

  Charles sat back on the bench, still clutching her hand. “My darling, just tell them this was a hoax—that they’d been so rotten to you that you had to make up Max to keep them at bay. You should be honest with them.”