Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress

by Sara Bennett

  “I think we can manage that,” he said, watching her as she went to the door and opened it. He wondered if he dared straighten up yet; his body was still hard with desire. She had done that to him with one kiss.

  Averil glanced out of the door and then turned back with a nod. “Let’s go and tell Gareth,” she said. After a moment he followed.

  Averil was in the Home’s kitchen. She had been making lists of food needed for the following week, as well as other matters that she intended to deal with before she left for Southbrook Castle. Gareth had listened while she told him about the planned trip, but he’d declined to accompany them. Gareth wasn’t altogether pleased that she was going off with Lord Southbrook, but he was far more interested in acquiring the new building than he had previously been. His Home was in a mess, and if Averil could help him to keep the charity running he would be grateful.

  She’d been telling the cook about the house in Lincolnshire, while Violet helped with rolling out pastry for a pie. When the cook went to stir the soup on the stove, Violet murmured that she wanted a word.

  “Privately,” the girl added, with a glance toward the gossipy cook.

  They found a quiet corner in the storage room next door.

  “What is it, Violet?”

  She was hoping the girl might have decided to tell her what she knew about Jackson, because Averil was certain she knew something.

  “I heard you talking about going to see this new place for the women. I heard Cook say she’d like to come and take a look at the kitchen, but she couldn’t possibly leave the Home. I was thinking, Lady Averil . . . can I come with you instead? You know I’m a good cook. I know what is needed. I could inspect the kitchen.”

  Her pale blue eyes were very earnest, but lurking behind them Averil could see the fear she’d noticed before. Violet was afraid. She wanted to get away from London. She saw this as her opportunity.

  “I don’t know if that’s possible,” Averil began slowly.

  “Please.” Violet took her hand, her fingers pressing painfully into Averil’s. “I need to go with you, miss. I’m not safe here on my own,” she whispered, and then looked even more frightened.

  Averil hesitated. Her natural reaction was to agree, to take Violet with her and care for her, to keep her from harm. “Will you tell me what is the matter?” she asked gently. “I don’t think I can agree, Violet, unless you tell me what is wrong.”

  Violet swallowed. Averil could almost see the cogs in her brain spinning fast, like a cornered animal seeking a way out. And then she lifted her chin and gave Averil that direct stare that meant she was about to tell a lie. Violet, Averil found herself thinking, would make a wonderful actress.

  “There’s a man. I’m frightened of him. The way he looks at me. I don’t want to be here alone with him, Lady Averil, and that’s the truth.”

  Averil knew her face showed her shock. Was Violet speaking about Jackson?

  Violet was waiting. “You really can’t leave me here,” she said, when it seemed Averil was lost for words.

  “Who is this man?” Averil asked, her voice as calm as she could manage. “You must tell me, Violet. I will make certain he does not harm you.”

  Violet shook her head wildly. “No, I don’t want to tell you. I can’t tell you. I want to go with you, miss. Please take me.”

  The girl was obviously frantic.

  Averil knew she should probe further, but then she wondered whether that was wise. The girl might simply leave; there was nothing to stop her. And then Averil would never discover the truth about Jackson—and she was certain it was Jackson of whom Violet was afraid—and what was happening here at the Home. No, it was better to let her come and perhaps, by building her trust, she would eventually tell the truth.

  “Very well, Violet. You can come.”

  Violet looked so relieved she might weep. Her lips trembled but she forced emotion back, making Averil realize yet again what a steely character the girl was. “Thank you,” she said, nodding her head. “Thank you, Lady Averil. I-I won’t let you down.”

  Later, when she was alone again, Averil thought about the journey ahead of her. She felt a stirring of excitement despite all her current problems. The trip to Southbrook would bring her into close contact with the man who was playing havoc with her senses.

  Was it wrong to enjoy his kisses so much?

  Averil didn’t think so. The earl of Southbrook was like no other man she’d ever met and she was eager to continue that acquaintance as long as possible. If that was what this was, a simple acquaintance. But something was telling Averil it was rather more than that.

  In Lord Southbrook she had found a man who was everything she wanted—well almost, and she refused to allow his social position to affect her. As a member of the Husband Hunters Club, her mind turned naturally to marriage, and skittered away again. It was too soon for that, surely? But then again, her friends would tell her she needed to move fast once she’d found her prey, that she needed to secure his heart and his hand, if she was to be a happy wife.

  She had never met a man like Rufus before. She had never been in love before. Marriage had seemed something far into the future. Suddenly the whole thing seemed overwhelming. Averil took a deep breath. She would go forth cautiously, she told herself. And then she gave a little smile.

  One kiss at a time.

  Rufus woke with a start and sat up.

  The erotic dream lingered and he groaned. Every night he seemed to be involved in some passionate encounter with Averil, leaving him feeling irritable and out of sorts in the morning. His body wasn’t helping, either. Her presence was having an effect on him that was becoming embarrassing, something he hadn’t had to deal with since he was a callow youth lusting after the pastor’s eldest daughter.

  What was he to do?

  Marry her. The answer came back promptly. Marry her and bed her.

  He supposed taking her to Southbrook was his logical next step. Once she was there he could pop the question. Assuming the castle was in a fit state to receive visitors. Which reminded him, he must send James ahead to deal with the situation.

  Rufus lay down again and closed his eyes. Soon he would be able to take the real flesh-and-blood Averil in his arms, instead of dreaming about her. He couldn’t be mistaken in the way she’d looked at him? The way she’d returned his kisses? No, she wanted him to ask her to marry him.

  “And I will,” he muttered feverishly to himself. “I bloody well will!”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  Averil touched his face lightly with her fingertips, tracing the line of the scar that ran down his cheek. His skin was warm and she wanted to lean forward and kiss him, the urge so great that she couldn’t resist, but just as her lips brushed his cheek he turned and smiled at her. The pins in her hair were falling out, but evidently not quick enough for him because he reached up and removed some, allowing her hair to tumble free around her bare shoulders.

  Averil looked down.

  She was naked, entirely so. Before she could do anything to cover herself up, Rufus had slipped his arms about her and lifted her effortlessly. He began to carry her across the room—it wasn’t one she could recall seeing before—toward an enormous four-poster bed.

  “At last you’re mine,” he was saying, which didn’t sound quite the sort of thing he would say, which made her think this was a dream after all.

  He bent his head to kiss her. In a moment they would be on the bed together and she was aching feverishly for him to make her his. “Rufus, please . . .” she murmured.

  The bed seemed to be rocking now and she clung to him when he went to put her down, suddenly frightened. And now that she looked into the shadows more carefully she realized there were other people sitting there, Beth and Violet and Eustace, and . . . and Hercules!

  “Averil? Averil, wake up, we’re nearly there.”

  Averil blinked sleepily from her corner of the coach. She realized she’d been dreaming, and a very wa
rm dream it had been, too. She was grateful Rufus was not in the coach with her; he’d refused to share it with Hercules and was riding a black horse called Midnight. Beth and Violet and Eustace were with her, and it was quite crowded enough. Thankfully, it had been decided that James should go on ahead and see to the castle being made ready for the guests.

  “Averil, we’re nearly there,” Beth said, peering around Violet toward the window. Eustace was slouched on the opposite seat, looking bored, and Hercules wore much the same expression.

  “We are miles and miles from the castle,” Eustace said scornfully.

  “Yes, but we are very close to Lady Averil’s old nanny’s house,” Beth replied tartly. “Do sit up, Eustace, you’re slouching dreadfully.”

  Actually, Eustace looked a little shaken, and Averil supposed he was remembering the horrible Mrs. Slater again. To distract him, she said, “I imagine you will be able to run about with Hercules while we’re there. And if I remember rightly, Nanny Fredericks always made the most delicious cakes.”

  She was glad to see Eustace lose his pinched look and smile.

  “Hercules needs a good run,” Violet said, and patted the dog’s big head. Averil had found the girl to be good company on the journey, not at all the sullen creature she had been at the Home. It was as if once Violet left London behind she had become a completely different person, but perhaps that was only because she was no longer weighed down with whatever secrets were making her so afraid.

  “Is this visit about your sister?” she said now.

  “That is none of your business,” Beth interrupted.

  “I don’t mind,” Averil assured Beth, and smiled at Violet. “Yes, it is about my sister. I suppose you’ve heard me speak of her?”

  “Sally said you were looking for her.”

  “Sally Jakes?” Averil tried not to sound as surprised as she felt. How did Violet know Sally?

  “Sometimes we have to go to The Tin Soldier,” Violet said airily, but she wouldn’t look at Averil. “To see if any of the women are there when they shouldn’t be.”

  Averil opened up a little more, in the hope it would encourage Violet to do similar. “My mother and sister lived at The Tin Soldier before my mother died. Afterward my sister vanished and now I want to find her.”

  Violet looked interested. “What was her name then?”

  “Rose. I think. I feel as if I remember her being called Rose, anyway.”

  “So many of the little ’uns go missing in the East End,” Violet said, almost gently. “I’m glad you’re looking, Lady Averil.”

  By now the coach had come to a village and was rattling along the high street. The coachman stopped to ask directions, and soon they drew up outside a neat little whitewashed cottage, opposite the church. Almost immediately an elderly woman came out of the front door and stood at the gate, glaring suspiciously at the coat of arms on the door.

  Averil recognized her at once. Although the nanny she’d had as a child had been younger and slimmer, there was still something about this woman that was familiar and brought her memories back. Although not all of them, unfortunately, were happy ones.

  Rufus had dismounted and a moment later Eustace and Hercules erupted from the coach, followed by Averil, Beth, and Violet.

  “Oh dear!” the old woman declared, her eyes widening. “So many of you.”

  “Nanny Fredericks?” Averil came to take her hands warmly in her own. “Do you remember me?”

  The old woman peered up at her with eyes that looked cloudy. “Dear child,” she said, her voice shaky. “Of course I remember you. Do, do, come inside.” She gave Hercules a rather uneasy look.

  “Perhaps Eustace can stay out in the garden with Hercules?” Rufus suggested. “He is rather big, isn’t he?”

  “More like a horse than a dog,” Averil agreed, giving him a grateful smile.

  He smiled back. Averil thought the ride had done him good; he looked less caught up in his own thoughts. Before, when they’d set out, he’d seemed distant and moody, but now his eyes were warm and amused when they rested on her.

  She wished she understood him better. She wished she knew what was going on in his head sometimes. Averil was aware she had a tendency to try to fix things—and people—and reminded herself that Rufus was a grown man and would not look kindly upon her interference. No matter how much she wanted to give it.

  Once inside the cottage, Nanny Fredericks’s niece carried in the tea and cake, and Violet took some out to Eustace. Averil had introduced the earl, and now she introduced Beth.

  “Well, it was you I wanted to see,” the old woman said a little testily. “No need to bring me titled gentlemen and companions, my dear. I often think about you, when you were a baby, and your mother. And father,” she added, her lips tightening. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he turned rather nasty at the end. He could have softened his heart toward your poor mother, but instead he hardened it. Oh well, they’re all gone now, and the big house, too, sold off to strangers.”

  “It’s still there then?” Averil asked. “I remember it, a little. Of course I was four when my father died and left me an orphan.”

  “And then you were shuffled off to your father’s trustees and their idea of how a child should be taken care of,” Nanny Fredericks clearly disagreed.

  Averil smiled at Beth. “I had the best of carers, nanny.”

  “Humph.”

  “In your letter you said that you had something of my mother’s to give me?”

  “Yes, that’s right. She gave it to me when I visited her that last time in London, when I took you to see her, do you remember? I put it aside—I thought your father would take it from you—then I quite forgot about it. It was your letter that reminded me, and I searched it out the other day to give it to you, my dear.”

  Averil was touched by her kindness. “Thank you, nanny.”

  When the niece came back to freshen up their cups, Nanny Fredericks directed her to a small desk in the corner and the item wrapped in a cloth in the drawer.

  Tentatively Averil unwrapped it, and saw that it was a locket. Beautifully made, with silver filigrees and precious stones set around the central miniature portrait of her mother. It looked expensive and Averil wondered why her mother had not sold it, to keep herself and her daughter safe a little longer. But from what Rufus had said, her mother had refused payment from Percival’s parents, too.

  For a moment she gazed down upon the face she barely remembered. The beautiful and unreliable Lady Anastasia.

  “There, you have it now.” Mrs. Fredericks was watching her and gave a satisfied nod. “It was what she wanted.”

  “I am most grateful to you, nanny.” Averil blinked back her own tears. Beth reached across to pat her hand, and noticing it Nanny glared. Evidently she was the only one allowed such familiarity.

  Rufus cleared his throat. “Lady Averil said that you’ve remembered something about her sister,” he said, and received his own glare. “Mrs. Fredericks, let me explain. I am helping Lady Averil to find her sister, and anything you can tell us may be important.”

  The old nanny’s expression softened, but Averil thought that was more to do with Rufus’s charm than anything else. “I see now, thank you for explaining it to me, my lord. Well, it isn’t a great deal, but I thought it might help, as you say.” She settled herself more comfortably in her chair. “When I went to see Lady Anastasia, and I went quite a few times, although only the once with you, child. Well, that other woman was always there, sticking her nose in, trying to take over the conversation. I don’t know how Lady Anastasia put up with her, but then she was always so kind. Too kind. As you know, her kindness did for her in the end.”

  Averil wondered if kindness really had anything to do with her mother bolting with her lover, but this wasn’t the time to quibble. “What other woman, nanny?”

  “Sally, her name was. Nasty creature. Jealous, I’d say. Lady Anastasia was so beautiful, and Sally was a freckly thing.”


  Averil took this in, exchanging a glance with Rufus. Sally, again. The woman seemed to crop up everywhere.

  “What was the baby called, nanny? Do you recall? Sally thought it was Rose.”

  “Rose, that’s it,” Nanny said, with a decisive nod of her head. “She had skin like rose petals, and that’s why your mother said she would call her Rose.”

  Averil sighed, sadness washing over her.

  Nanny leaned forward, her old face creased with determination. “I think that if anyone knows what happened to your sister, my dear, then it is that Sally woman. Don’t you trust her, take my advice.”

  Averil exchanged another glance with Rufus. They would need to follow up some of these questions, but it was no use worrying about it now. Southbrook Castle awaited them.

  Soon afterward they took their leave. As the others were settling themselves back into the coach, Averil remained with Nanny a moment longer, holding her hand and thanking her again for her kindness and hospitality. Nanny Fredericks was smiling and nodding, and then suddenly she looked beyond her and jumped quite violently.

  “Nanny? What is it?”

  “My goodness,” the old woman said. “For a moment I thought I saw your mother! It gave me quite a start. My eyes are not as good as they used to be, my dear.”

  “My mother?” Averil followed the direction of her gaze. Beth was just climbing into the coach. She supposed, if she had bad eyesight, then from the back, Beth might almost be of a similar build to her mother.

  “I miss her, you know,” Nanny went on sadly. “Lady Anastasia was so full of life. As if there wasn’t a moment in the day she didn’t have to fill. Everything around her was bustle and commotion. Once she was gone the big house felt like a mausoleum.”

  “Yes. I remember the silence. My father locked himself away in his rooms. It was horrid.”

  “She shouldn’t have done it. I told her that and I think she knew she had made an error of judgment, but still . . . She was such a dear. One couldn’t help but forgive her.”