by Diana Lloyd
“Guess who?”
“A temptress from the colonies,” he replied, as he turned and picked her up in his arms. “Shall I throw you over my shoulder again and force you to search another room with me?”
“Don’t you dare!” Her response was a moment too late, for he was already lifting her up to his shoulder. “I mean it, Oliver.” Her protest earned her a playful smack on her bottom before she found herself bouncing against him as he walked out into the hallway, laughing like a madman.
“You fit up there so nicely we should travel this way all the time.” Laughing, he patted her bottom again. “Where to, my lady?”
“Wherever you are, my lord.” She’d meant it as a jest, but it was too quickly becoming the truth. Every day in his company proved him to be kind, hardworking, and cleverly humorous. If this continued, she’d happily fall into his arms and his bed. “Put me down or I shall…” Stalling as she thought of a clever retaliation, she dissolved into giggles before raising up his waistcoat and pulling his shirt from his breeches. “I shall spank you right back.”
“I might enjoy that.” Anticipating his next move, she gave his shirt another tug while twisting around to gauge his reaction.
“Ho, what’s this?” Eyes wide, Penry stood at the end of the hallway, staring as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Welcome back, Pen.” Brushing her hands away from his shirt, Oliver lowered Jewel until her feet once again touched the floor. “We were just searching for more of Father’s notes.”
“Seems an awkward way to go about it, but as long as you’re thorough, carry on.” Penry erased his smile by pressing his lips together in a tight line. “Terribly sorry to interrupt your…search, but Dobbs has uncovered more information about Mr. Smith and Mr. Gatts. I thought you’d want to know what he found, so I rushed back to deliver the news in person.”
“Miss Latham.” Suddenly formal, Oliver bowed before taking his leave. “Duty calls and I dare not ignore it. I will see you at supper.”
“Of course.” Trying hard not to blush, Jewel slipped his coat from her shoulders and held it out to him. They weren’t fooling Penry, but she would pretend innocence as long as she could. “Thank you for the gallant offer of your coat. I’ll fetch a shawl now.”
“The house is drafty today, must be windy out,” Oliver said as he pulled on the coat and straightened his neckcloth.
Watching the brothers walk away, Jewel realized she and Oliver would not be able to hide their growing ardor from the rest of the household much longer. It would seem natural that an affianced couple enjoyed each other’s company, but they were not affianced. Oliver had made no move to make their false arrangement a real one. The longer the ruse continued, the worse it would be for her when it ended.
Unless I stay.
The thought stopped her in her tracks. Her uncle or his agents might arrive at any time to drag her to Scotland. Unless her father turned up in England, her uncle had every right to do so as long as she wasn’t married. The thought punched her in the stomach. Maybe it was time to stop pretending the war would end soon and she could help her father. It was time she concentrated on helping herself.
Overcast but not cool, it was the perfect afternoon for a contemplative walk about the garden. The floral and fragrant atmosphere, however, did nothing to settle Jewel’s mind. The notion of staying refused to solidify, and the notion of leaving would not dissipate. Either choice left her with an uncertain future. Imagining her life after either decision proved impossible. As much as she thought of Elvy as a friend and confidant, this decision was one she needed to make for herself.
Avoiding the Grecian folly and its titillating memories, Jewel followed the path radiating out from the structure like spokes on a wheel until it circled back around. She repeated her trek until she could pick out her favorite flower in each flower bed. Surely Oliver and Penry had discussed Mr. Dobbs’s findings by now. She would look into Oliver’s eyes and see if she saw her future there.
Jones let out an ear-piercing whistle as she made her way down the hallway to Oliver’s office, but his excitement wasn’t directed at her. Penry stood in the doorway, his back to the hallway and his hand upon the latch as if he’d been delayed in the act of leaving. Taking another step closer, the sound of Oliver’s voice stopped her cold.
“I want you to check on the Scottish Maiden when you get back to London. Our business with Bartleby shouldn’t take all of your time. And neither should your business with his daughter, Mary.”
“Was that your attempt at jest?” Penry replied. “Our lives are crumbling down around our ears and you think me too besotted to attend to the business of keeping this family above water?”
“You squawk as much as Jones, brother. The Maiden might be another one of Father’s follies, but Lord Graham is adamant about fulfilling his end of the bargain. Take what we have to Bartleby and pick the Maiden up at the docks. I’ll go to Cheltenham to look for any associates of Smith and Gatts. Those two are crooked, and I intend to prove it.”
Backing away quietly, Jewel couldn’t bear to hear any more. Oliver’s father must have arranged for a bride from Scotland before his death. A maiden bride. With Penry’s heart set on Mary Bartleby, it would be Oliver’s duty to marry the girl. Why hadn’t he mentioned it?
She was the world’s biggest fool for pretending to be his fiancée. What had she done? A man who claimed to be housebound with no knowledge of Society now had two fiancées—one he would marry and one he could not. She knew which one she’d be. Backing away to the end of the hall, Jewel took the steps two at a time, rushing back to her room.
Just as her hand touched the latch, she turned away and headed toward Elvy’s room instead. Now was not the time to be alone and tortured by her thoughts. Talking things out with Elvy would settle her mind. With the maid’s help, she’d come up with a new plan.
“He’s getting married.” The words flew out of her mouth as soon as she pushed the door closed behind her. “His father made a deal with a Lord Graham from Scotland. Penry is leaving for London to fetch her.”
“A bride for Lord Winchcombe?” Elvy set her sewing aside and motioned for Jewel to have a seat. “Are you certain she isn’t for his brother?”
“Penry’s in love with their solicitor’s daughter, Mary Bartleby. He intends to marry her before the year is out. Oliver’s father arranged for a maiden from Scotland. A maiden.” Speaking the words made her stomach clench, and she took a deep breath to settle it.
“That can’t be right, because I heard…” Elvy snapped her mouth closed and looked away.
“What did you hear? I don’t care how you heard it, but, please, you must tell me.” Luckily, the draw of the servant’s galley way next to Oliver’s office must have proved too much of a temptation for Elvy.
“I heard Penry tell his lordship that he should marry you so your uncle would release your funds to him.” Elvy didn’t meet her eyes until after the words were spoken. “I didn’t hear his response.”
Jewel’s stomach sank even further.
“Thank you for telling me, Elvy.” Jewel reached out and patted her friend’s hand. “I needed to know.” If Oliver couldn’t get his hands on her dowry, he’d have a go at the Scottish maiden. There was no limit to a man’s deviousness when wealth and position were at stake.
“When is she coming?” Elvy asked quietly, almost reluctantly.
“Penry’s leaving for London straightaway, and Oliver is going to Cheltenham to follow up on something about the two fellows who showed up the other day. After that I’m not sure, I didn’t hear anymore.” Oliver didn’t need her, he had a spare. That’s why he never truly proposed. The thought struck her like a runaway carriage. Oliver would straighten out the mess with his title with his Scottish bride and her dowry. “He doesn’t need me.”
“Need and want are two different things,” Elvy said, shrugging.
/> “I thought Oliver, I mean, Lord Winchcombe and I shared something or had similar feelings about…things, but I was mistaken. It’s easy to fool a desperate woman, but I draw the line at being gamed twice.” It was a hard admission to make, and yet she felt she needed to say it aloud in order for it to be a vow. She was too willing to offer her heart, and men were much too willing to break it. “I need to leave here.”
“Where are we going?” Elvy managed a small smile. “Wherever it is, I’m going with you.”
“London. I have to see my father’s letter to my uncle. I must know what he intended for me and how to access the funds he left for my care. If I have to break into his office and steal it, I will read that letter.” Her father’s words were her last hope of saving herself. Control of even a portion of her funds promised independence. There was nothing else for her to do.
“Once his lordship and his brother leave the estate, it shouldn’t be too hard to sneak away. I’ve got a years’ worth of wages in my pocket and a hankering to see London.”
“I can’t use your money, you’ve earned it.” She hadn’t thought of the coin needed to make the journey, only the amount she’d receive once successful. Oliver’s father had left loose coin around the house along with his IOUs. Whenever they’d found one during their search of the house, they’d placed it in a jar on the hallway credenza. Using “found” money wasn’t exactly stealing, was it?
“You can pay me back when you get your funds from your uncle.” Elvy knew she was over a barrel, and her generous offer could not be refused.
“Deal.” Reaching out, Jewel shook Elvy’s hand. “As soon as I get my money.”
“I’ve another proposal for you to consider.” Elvy held up the shirt she’d been working on. “With both his lordship and your uncle looking for you, maybe Jules and Egbert would make for safer traveling companions.”
“You’re brilliant.” Grabbing up the shirt, Jewel held it to her chest. “How many of these do you have finished?”
“Enough,” Elvy replied. “We’ve already cut our hair, be a shame to waste the effort. We’d only be passing through, no reason to stay anywhere long enough to draw suspicion. Pack up enough of our lady things, too, and we’ll confuse anyone chasing after us.”
“It’s perfect, let’s do it.”
Chapter Ten
Still shaking from his ordeal, Oliver unsaddled his horse and brushed him down quietly so he wouldn’t wake the stableboy. With each stroke of the brush down the horse’s flank, the raw anger ebbed away. His knuckles were stained red with another man’s blood, but the knife at his side was still clean. Although accused of being a monster often enough, he’d never thought himself capable of violence. Until today.
Mr. Hatch’s information had proved valuable, but he’d not given up Smith and Gatts easily. Giving his horse one last pat on the muzzle, Oliver thought of going to Jewel’s room to ease the rest of the ordeal away. If he slipped off his travel-worn, bloodstained clothes, crawled into her bed and pulled her into his arms, would she deny him comfort? The thought of soft, clean sheets and a soft, warm woman made his cock grow hard.
Settling the horse in his stall, Oliver walked out into the cool night air and took a few deep breaths. It would be the height of madness to go to her now and risk rejection. His rage-depleted need for human contact was too raw. He’d already bared part of his soul to her. He wasn’t ready to reveal all.
Tired, lustful, and hungry, Oliver made his way to the kitchen to solve at least one of his problems. Peeking in the door to make sure he wasn’t disturbing whoever might be sleeping by the hearth, Oliver entered and made his way to the cupboards. He rarely spoke to the kitchen staff directly, but he made a mental note to have Dobbs tell them they were doing a good job. The kitchen was clean and well-organized, and he quickly found a bit of bread and cheese for his breakfast. He used a skewer to toast the bread over the few glowing coals that remained of yesterday’s fire, then poured himself a mug of cider.
“Here, man. Who are you in my kitchen?” His cook, hands on her hips, called out as she walked into the room. Oliver knew the moment she saw his face because she hiccupped in a sharp breath and stopped in her tracks.
“I’m Winchcombe,” he replied, giving her a few moments to settle herself. “Your master.”
“Well, of course you is, my lord. It’s just that I ain’t never seen you in the kitchens before. Might I fetch you something?”
“I’m hungry.” Oliver turned away and rolled his eyes at his childish response. Good heavens, the woman worked for him and hadn’t screamed or fainted. The least he could do was act like the lord of the manor. “That is, I thought not to bother the staff and was getting a bite to eat.”
“Bother? No, my lord, ’tis my duty and pleasure to make you something. Let me build up that fire and make you some proper porridge.” Waving him away, she pointed to a nearby stool. “Have a seat, my lord. I’ll have you sorted out in a minute or two.”
“Thank you, Mrs.…Cook?”
“I’m Mrs. Bates but Cook is fine, my lord. You need anything from here on out, you just ask for Cook and everyone will know who you mean. Ain’t right to have you rummaging about my kitchen. People will think you don’t like my cooking.”
“Wouldn’t want anyone to think that.” Oliver smiled and leaned back. From now on, he’d deal with the staff more directly. If he still had a staff. Or any money. Mrs. Bates’s porridge was good but not good enough to make him forget he still had a long way to go before he could relax.
“My lord.” A disheveled Dobbs rushed into the kitchen smoothing down his hair. “We didn’t expect you back until morning.” Finishing off with a bow, Dobbs eyed the porridge with longing.
“Grab a bowl and have a seat, Dobbs.” Nodding to the steaming pot, Oliver motioned for his house steward to pull up a stool to the table. “I’ll grant you a few bites before I tell you what I’m going to need from you.”
“You’ll be wanting to know about them stones.” Dobbs scooped a few spoonfuls of porridge into a bowl and flopped down on the stool. “One stone was true, the other paste. Good paste, the man said, but paste all the same. He suggested getting them all tested.”
“And who do we trust with a handful of diamonds?” Leaving the question unanswered while he took another bite of porridge, Oliver considered his options. “No one. Too easy to claim they’re all false or even pocket a few of the real ones and replace them with paste. Sadly, I wouldn’t know the difference.”
“Who’s that jeweler in London your brother visited last year?”
“Wasn’t a jeweler, it was a goldsmith. Mr. West on Ludgate Street. He seemed a decent enough fellow through his correspondence. We were pleased with his shoe buckles and ivory buttons. I suppose a goldsmith works with enough gems to know the true from the false. I’ll take the stones to him myself.”
“I should probably tell you, after your last turn in town, one of the daily papers devoted a few lines to the incident along with a sketch of you.”
“Was it at least a good likeness?” Embarrassed that he hadn’t anticipated the move, Oliver could only shake his head and smile.
“They portrayed you as quite the villain, I’m afraid. They labeled you ‘Lord Scar.’ You left town too quickly to see it, and I wasn’t about to bring that fish-wrapper to Winchcombe Abbey.”
“It changes nothing. In fact, should anyone present me with the sheet, I’ll gladly sign it for them.” The thought of autographing the piece kept the smile on his face. Was he to hide from a crude drawing? Could pen and ink be worse than the flesh he wore each day? It was a surprise to realize that he didn’t care a whit about it.
“Be careful who you trust. Wear the scar, don’t let it wear you.”
“Fatherly advice I could have used ten years ago but probably wouldn’t have listened to back then. I’m responsible for my own conduct, Dobbs. You are absolved of a
ny responsibility should I make a complete arse of myself.” The day’s events began tugging at his eyelids, and Oliver stifled a yawn as he stood. “I need sleep. I’ll leave for Town as soon as I’m ready tomorrow.”
“I’ve news you’re not going to be pleased to hear, but I didn’t know what you’d want me to do about it until you returned, so I let it wait until morning.” Dobbs yawned into his porridge and kept his eyes down, as if searching the bowl for the right words.
“It’s early, but it is morning.” Oliver glanced at the window to confirm his estimation. “What now?” The information he’d learned from Hatch would cancel out any bad news the steward might deliver.
“That woman, your cousin—er, fiancée, has gone. Took her maid with her.”
“What do you mean gone? Did someone take her? Wake the household! Organize a search party!”
“They took the curricle and two horses, Pickle and Pepper. Stableboy snuck away to tell me as soon as he saw them. They was dressed as men but it was them all right.”
“She didn’t say anything to anyone? Did she leave a note?” Oliver swallowed hard as his mind reeled with possibilities. After what happened in the garden… Was that all a lie? The woman afraid of being left behind had left him?
“It’s in your bedchamber, my lord. Figured it was for your eyes only and you’d see it once you retired for the night.”
The guilt and angst of his altercation with Smith and Gatts’s lackey swam through his head as he ran to his room. It hadn’t taken him long to turn into the beast everyone feared him to be, but the stakes were too high. The man begged for mercy and yet Oliver had showed none, beating Hatch until he’d spilled every last word of what he knew. A glimpse of Jewel’s smiling face would erase the ugly event from his mind, but now she was gone, and there’d be nothing but his shame to keep him warm tonight.