The Heiress In His Bed

by Tamara Lejeune

  “If he loved you,” Lucy said firmly, “if he truly loved you, he would not declare his intentions to a six-year-old boy. He would declare them to the world! Not that I believe for an instant that marriage is his object,” she went on sourly. “Viola, if you throw yourself into his power, what will prevent him from selling you to Lord Simon? He cannot be trusted. I would not see you injured by a rake.”

  “Julian is not a rake,” Viola said firmly. “I promised to meet him at the Folly, and meet him I will. And if he wants to marry me, I will go with him to London. So there!”

  “And if he does not mean to marry you?” Lucy said sharply.

  “Then I will throw myself in the river to preserve my virtue!” Viola said crossly. “Will that make you happy, Miss Lucy?”

  “No, of course not,” Lucy said, distressed. “Can I not dissuade you from meeting him? Is there nothing I can say?”

  “No, nothing.”

  Lucy took a deep breath. “Very well, then. I can only wish you luck.”

  “Thank you,” Viola said coolly.

  “You would not really drown yourself?” Lucy asked nervously.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Viola snapped, fetching Bijou’s brush and beginning the long task of brushing out the bichon’s matted fur.

  “I will leave you then,” said Lucy.

  “Good-bye,” Viola sniffed.

  Lucy went out, closed the door of Viola’s bedroom, and locked it. Unlike Henry, she was careful to take the key away with her. Viola heard the key turn in the lock and ran to the door.

  “Lucy!” she cried, rattling the locked door furiously. “What are you doing?”

  “Saving you from yourself,” Lucy answered. “I will go to the Folly in your place.”

  “What!” Viola howled. “Let me out this instant!”

  “I will give Mr Julian the diamonds you lent me for the ball,” Lucy went on with steely determination. “In the morning, he will be gone.”

  “You let me out of here right now, Lucy Rampling,” Viola screamed, stamping her foot. “I am going to murder you!”

  “You will thank me for this later,” said Lucy.

  “Please, Lucy! You don’t understand! I must see him.”

  “Do you know who you sound like?” Lucy said angrily. “You sound just like Mama when she’s…thirsty! Well, you locked her in her room. Now I am locking you in yours!”

  “You bitch!”

  The loud crash from within the room was enough to bring Cornelius to the stairs. “What the devil is going on?” he demanded.

  “Lady Viola is having a tantrum,” Lucy explained. “She wants us all out of the house.”

  Cornelius turned pale. “She’s evicting us? What about my seat in Parliament? Is she taking it back? Lucy, I am nothing without my seat!”

  “I’m sure it’s just a tantrum,” Lucy assured him, running lightly down the stairs. “You know what these high-strung aristocrats are like. Why don’t you take Mama for a nice long drive?” she suggested brightly. “I’ll give the servants the afternoon off, and I’ll stay here to look after her ladyship. Hopefully, her temper will have improved by the time you get back.”

  Lucy’s optimism proved to be unfounded, however. Viola’s temper only seemed to get worse and worse. She screamed until she was hoarse, broke things until Lucy feared for Bijou’s safety, then lapsed into an eerie silence. Anxious, Lucy knelt down and peered through the keyhole. A dark, glittering eye glared back at her with palpable hostility.

  “Lucy, I hate you!” Viola croaked.

  Hastily, Lucy collected the diamonds Viola had lent her and ran out of the house.

  Alex reined in his horse as he reached the Folly. His brother was tossing pebbles from the parapet. “Julian!” he called. “What are you doing up there?”

  Julian frowned at him. “Nothing,” he said irritably. “I’m just enjoying the view from the Folly. Were you looking for me?”

  “No,” Alex replied. “Miss Rampling left her handkerchief at Cross Mere. I was just going to Gambol Hall to return it to her.”

  Julian’s lip curled. “I see.”

  “You have some objection to my scheme?” Alex said sharply. “Is there some reason I should not return this handkerchief to Miss Rampling?”

  Julian’s face was impassive. “No, I like your scheme. I think you should return Miss Rampling’s handkerchief without delay. Quicker, in fact.”

  “I will, sir!” Alex snarled, urging his horse straight through the Folly at a gallop.

  Lady Cheviot sat composed on the cream and gold-striped sofa in her drawing room. All day she had been deluged by visits from her neighbors, who all wished to congratulate her on the success of her ball, even as they secretly delighted in its failure. Perdita had dressed accordingly in a morning gown almost as opulent as the ball gown she had worn the night before.

  “Ah, Shipley, there you are,” she said warmly as the slim, sallow governess slipped into the room, her spectacles glinting, her mousy hair scraped back into a knot. “I have spoken to Master Henry. The little angel admits his mistake. You are innocent. I have decided to allow you to remain here in my employ. That is all.”

  Miss Shipley smiled queerly. “Your ladyship is very kind,” she said unctuously. “However, I do not choose to remain.”

  “Don’t be ungrateful, Shipley,” Perdita warned her.

  “Indeed, I am most exceedingly grateful to my Lord Cheviot for his generosity,” Miss Shipley replied, still smiling. “His lordship has provided for us so well, that I shall never have to work again. The child, of course, will want for nothing.”

  Turning to the side, Miss Shipley showed her ladyship a budding young pregnancy.

  “Congratulations,” Perdita said coolly. “How soon do you leave?”

  Viola opened her bedroom window and walked out onto the small balcony. The big oak tree was too far away to touch, but so close that squirrels routinely jumped onto her balcony. She was not a squirrel, of course, but she was a fine, healthy girl. She could jump.

  She climbed on top of the stone balustrade, took a deep breath, and jumped.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Skirts billowing, Viola fell through the smaller branches of the tree, sustaining numerous scratches on the way down. Finally, she struck a branch heavy enough to hold her weight. The impact knocked the breath from her body. She fell again, tearing her fingernails on the branch just before she fell to the hard ground.

  For a moment she lay gasping like a fish. Then she picked herself up and trudged, limping, toward the lane. She made it as far as the garden, where she collapsed in pain.

  Alex could not believe his eyes. Miss Andrews’s scarlet riding costume was torn and dirty. Her black hair was matted with blood. There was blood on her cheek. She looked as if she had been through a mangle. As he came up the drive, she climbed laboriously to her feet, then collapsed again when her left leg gave out from under her.

  Alex dismounted, calling loudly for help, and ran to her side. “Good God!” he exclaimed as she fell into his arms. “What has happened?”

  Blinking back tears of pain, Viola seized hold of his lapels. “I must get to the Folly,” she said, gritting her teeth.

  “You can’t even walk,” he said, lifting her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. “I’m taking you inside to Miss Rampling. Hello there!” he called again, as he began carrying her back up to the house.

  “Lucy,” Viola spat bitterly. “Lucy has gone to the Folly to meet Julian!”

  “Has she?” Alex muttered. “Where the devil are the servants?” he snapped they reached the door.

  “Lucy gave them the afternoon off,” Viola explained.

  With a roar of disgust, Alex kicked the door open and carried Viola inside. Depositing her on a sofa in the drawing room, he leaned over her. “Where are you hurt, Miss Andrews?”

  Viola struggled to get up. “I must get to the Folly. I must stop Lucy!”

  “Never mind all that!” he said sharply. “Have
you broken anything?”

  “Everything in my room,” she said. “How could Lucy be so beastly cruel as to lock me in? I had to go out of the window, Mr Devize. Squirrels do it all the time. Why can’t I?”

  “Don’t try to talk,” Alex said sternly. “You’ve obviously injured your brain. Also, I think your ankle might be broken. It’s swelling up. I don’t like to leave you alone, but I think I’d better get the doctor.”

  “No!” Viola protested, catching his arm. “You must go to the Folly, Mr Devize. Stop her, before it’s too late. Please! If you do not,” she went on, wincing in pain, “I shall. I’ll crawl to the Folly if I have to.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” he said sharply. “I will go to the Folly. I will tell Miss Rampling what has happened. Then I will fetch the doctor.”

  “Tell her it’s her fault if I die,” Viola said, falling back on the sofa. “That should fix her.”

  Alex rode hard to the Folly.

  “What are you doing here?” Julian demanded as Lucy approached.

  Lucy looked up, startled by his voice, to find Julian watching her from the parapet. Grim and determined, she picked up her skirts and began climbing up the stairs to him.

  “Where is Miss Andrews?” he demanded.

  “She isn’t coming,” Lucy said quietly. “I am here in her place.”

  “No, thank you,” he scoffed.

  Flushing, Lucy presented him with the diamonds. Julian looked at the velvet bag with contempt. “What is that?”

  “Something of equal value, Mr Julian,” she answered. “My friend no longer has your ring. Take these diamonds and go.”

  “You take them and go,” he retorted. “Where’s Mary? Why isn’t she here?”

  “She doesn’t want to see you,” Lucy lied. “She wants nothing more to do with you. Go back to London, Mr Julian,” she pleaded. “Leave my friend in peace.”

  Julian’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve poisoned her against me,” he accused.

  “You have no one to blame but yourself, Mr Julian,” she told him harshly. “You made the bargain to sell her. You betrayed her trust. You broke her heart.”

  “What the devil are you talking about?” he growled. “I bought her.”

  “Indeed,” Lucy said, revolted. “And when you were tired of her, you arranged to sell her to another man! It is despicable.”

  Julian’s face was gray. “You’ve been telling lies, Miss Rampling.”

  “Is it a lie?” cried Lucy. “I saw your letter, sir! The poor girl carries it with her, to remind her of your perfidy.”

  “What letter, you lying cat? I never wrote any letter.”

  “The letter I saw was written by Lord Simon,” Lucy replied. “It laid out the whole disgusting transaction in plain English. You were to sell her to him for a profit of three thousand guineas. Can you deny it?”

  “This is what Mary thinks?” Julian said, after a long pause. “How could you tell her something so beastly?”

  “I didn’t! She told me.”

  “I don’t believe you. Where is she? Is she at the house?”

  As he started down the stairs, Lucy darted after him, pulling at his arm. “Leave her alone, sir! Haven’t you done enough to her?”

  A flash of movement across the meadow caught Julian’s eye. It was not Mary, however, as he had hoped. It was his brother, riding Tony Cheviot’s black hunter. “You have ruined my happiness, Miss Rampling,” he said coldly, pulling Lucy into his arms. “Now I shall ruin yours.” With that, he clamped his lips down on hers in a fierce, bruising kiss.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Alex called up to them, his mount twitching in agitation.

  Shocked, Lucy disentangled herself from Julian and dragged the back of her hand across her lips.

  “We were just finishing up,” Julian said pleasantly.

  “Miss Andrews has been injured,” Alex informed them curtly. “I’m just going for the doctor now.”

  “Oh no!” cried Lucy, running down the steps. “What has happened?”

  Alex could not bring himself to look at her. “Julian, would you be good enough to escort Miss Rampling to her friend? I was forced to leave Miss Andrews alone, Miss Rampling having dismissed all her servants. I will send the doctor,” he added. “I will not return.”

  Without another word, he tore off in the direction of the village.

  “What have I done?” Lucy whispered, running blindly back toward the house. She could not outrun Julian, however, and by the time she reached the house, gasping for breath, the reunion had taken place.

  Viola’s face was pale but serene as Julian brought her a glass of wine. “I want you to know, Lucy,” she said, stretching out her hands, “that I forgive your interference. I know you meant well. Indeed, I’m so happy at this moment that I could not possibly hold a grudge!”

  “I could,” Julian said darkly. “You might have been killed. What possessed you to jump out of the window?”

  Lucy gasped in horror. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry you were hurt!”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Viola said, smiling into Julian’s eyes. “Anyway, Julian doesn’t think anything is broken.”

  “It’s still a very bad sprain,” said Julian.

  “Lucy was only trying to protect me,” said Viola.

  Julian’s eyes snapped angrily. “She has been filling your head with nonsense! You may forgive her, but I don’t.”

  “Is it nonsense?” Viola asked.

  “Of course it is,” he said. “What? You didn’t really believe that I was going to sell you to Lord Simon, did you?”

  “What was I supposed to think?” Viola said. “He came to Lombard Street to buy me. He left you a note with a fixed price!”

  “My God,” said Julian. “You must know I would never do such a thing!”

  “You said you would,” Viola reminded him.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said angrily.

  “You said it would make your life easier!”

  “I-I was angry,” he stammered.

  “You gave the condesa to your colonel,” she reminded him.

  “That was a long time ago,” he said. “And I never loved her. You couldn’t possibly have believed…! My God, when Hudson told me you’d run off with Lord Simon, I nearly lost my mind!”

  “And why would I run off with Lord Simon, a man I despise?” she demanded.

  “Well, you wouldn’t, would you?”

  “No.”

  Lucy threw up her hands. “Please! You cannot allow yourself to trust this man again! He kissed me at the Folly, for heaven’s sake! He must be a fiend of lust or something. He obviously cannot control his base male urges.”

  “You’re lying!” Viola gasped.

  “She’s a desperate spinster,” said Julian. “Of course she’s lying, darling. She kissed me at the Folly.”

  “Lies, Viola, lies!” Lucy gasped.

  “You’re right, Miss Rampling,” said Julian. “These are vile lies. Let us forget they were ever spoken.”

  “You think you’re so clever!” Lucy snapped. “How do you propose to marry in London without a special license, Mr Julian?”

  “I don’t,” Julian replied. “Not that it’s any of your business, Miss Rampling.”

  “We’ll elope, of course,” said Viola.

  “Gretna Green? If he loved you, he wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” said Lucy. “Besides, he said he was taking you to London.”

  Viola frowned. “Dev?”

  “Don’t listen to her, sweetheart. She’s jealous.”

  Lucy glared at him. “If you love her, sir, you would not even think of eloping. You would go to Sussex at once and reconcile with your father. The banns would be called from the pulpit, as is proper. Then you would marry her in the church where you were baptized. That is how a gentleman in love behaves.”

  “This has nothing to do with my father,” Julian said angrily. “Miss Andrews and I will be married in London. I will get the license.”

  “How?
” Viola demanded. “Has your mother relented?”

  “No, but I’ve spoken to the Duke of Fanshawe.”

  “Dickon knows?” Viola said, a little startled.

  “Yes. He only wants you to be happy. He’ll get the special license for us.”

  “Of course he will,” Viola said, laughing with relief. “Who better?”

  “He certainly has more influence than my mother,” said Julian. “I’ll leave for London tomorrow at first light. With any luck, I’ll be back the following day with the license. We’ll be married when I return, and you won’t even have to leave your sofa.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “Nonsense,” he said firmly. “You can’t even walk.”

  “Oh, very well,” Viola said sulkily.

  Presently Dr Chadwick arrived to dress Viola’s cuts and scrapes and to confirm Julian’s assertion that her ankle was not broken, but had sustained a bad sprain. By the time Julian returned to Cross Mere, it was well after dark. Dinner having already ended, he strolled down to the kitchen for emergency provisions. There he found his brother deep in a bottle of port.

  “Does Tony know you’re drinking his Cockburn?” Julian asked, helping himself to a steak pie from the larder.

  “Does he know you’re eating his pie?” Alex retorted as his brother found a bottle of beer.

  “I think he’d rather not know,” Julian replied, joining Alex at the table.

  “You’re probably right. How is Miss Andrews?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” Julian said cheerfully. “Nasty sprain, of course, but she’s a strong, healthy girl. She’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

  “You needn’t sound so pleased,” Alex grumbled.

  “Why shouldn’t I be pleased? I’m getting married.”

  Alex set down his glass. “Are you, by God?” he asked in a hollow voice.

  “By God, I am. I told you that already, didn’t I?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together,” Alex said stiffly.

  “So am I. I leave for London at first light,” said Julian. “I shall return with the license and marry her here.”