The Heiress In His Bed

by Tamara Lejeune

  “While you are in London, you should insert a notice into the papers,” said Alex.

  Julian sighed. “I’ve no time for such niceties.”

  “You need a best man,” Alex observed.

  “Well, you’re my best man, of course,” Julian said instantly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Certainly,” Alex said wearily. “Do you want me to go to London for you?”

  “No. I need the duke’s help if I’m to get the special license,” Julian replied. “You might talk to the vicar for me, arrange the service. I suppose we can do it at Gambol Hall. I daresay Miss Rampling can manage the wedding breakfast.”

  “Of course, Julian,” Alex said quietly. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “Thanks, old man.”

  “Don’t anybody move,” Tony Cheviot commanded, leaping into the room with a pistol in his hand. “Oh, it’s you,” he said morosely, placing the pistol in the pocket of his purple satin dressing gown. “I thought you were burglars.”

  “What have you got worth stealing?” Julian asked rudely.

  “You’re eating my pie,” Tony complained. “And you’re drinking my vintage port!” he added, glaring at Alex. “You are burglars!”

  Angrily, he grabbed the pie from Julian. For good measure, he took the port from Alex.

  “You call this hospitality?” said Julian. “I am going to bed.”

  “So am I,” said Alex.

  “Good night!” Tony said indignantly.

  And so it was that, through no fault of his own, his lady found him alone in the kitchen holding half a steak and kidney pie in one hand and a bottle of port in the other. She was wearing her pink quilted dressing gown and her hair was in curl papers, but that was not what made Tony’s blood curdle in fear. Rather, it was the cold, deadly look in her blue eyes.

  “I might have known,” Perdita said scathingly, “you’d be down here in the middle of the night eating and drinking your head off. I myself have lost my appetite.”

  “I wasn’t eating!” Tony cried. “Julian ate the pie, and Alex opened the port.”

  “Are you quite sure it wasn’t little Henry?” his wife asked coldly. “You seem to blame my son for everything!”

  “Not everything,” Tony mumbled.

  “Well, you can’t blame him for this,” said Perdita. “Tony, I’ve decided to divorce you.”

  Tony stared at her blankly. “No, you can’t!” he protested. “I won’t let you. Think of the children, Perdita.”

  “I have thought of them,” she replied. “They will come with me, of course.”

  “You can’t take my children from me,” Tony said.

  “You don’t need my children,” she told him. “You have a new family now. I expect you to marry Miss Shipley as soon as our divorce is granted by the House of Lords.”

  Tony guffawed. “Marry Shipley? You’re mad!”

  “Miss Shipley is with child,” Perdita told him. “I expect you to do the decent thing, Tony, for the child’s sake.”

  Tony was stunned into silence.

  “Didn’t she tell you?” Perdita asked. “I assure you, she is quite gloriously pregnant!”

  “Well, it ain’t mine!” Tony sputtered.

  “Of course it is,” Perdita snapped. “While I was in London begging my mother for a little money to pay Georgie’s school fees, you couldn’t think of anything better to do than bed the governess! She isn’t even pretty!”

  “I never touched her,” said Tony.

  “She didn’t get pregnant by herself,” Perdita snarled. “I’m leaving you, Tony. I’m going back to my father in Sussex. I’m taking my children with me. Don’t you dare try to stop me!”

  Tony became angry. “I can’t believe you would take her word over mine,” he said. “You’ll never get a bill of divorce through! I’ll fight you. My father will vote against you.”

  “My father will beat your father,” Perdita sneered. “Lord Devize is vastly more popular in Lords than Lord Snowden! I will get my divorce.”

  Lady Cheviot swept out of the room.

  In the morning, she was enraged to discover that her lord had beaten her to the punch. She did not mind that Tony had left Hamphsire—she was glad not to see him at breakfast. Her complaint was more substantial: Tony had taken the carriage, the couple’s only vehicle, and the only chaise for hire in the village had already been taken by the odious Miss Shipley. Until the chaise returned from London, Perdita was stranded in Hampshire.

  After breakfast, Alex rode over to Gambol Hall.

  Lucy appeared pale and worried.

  “How is the patient?” Alex asked her. “My brother assured me it was only a sprain.”

  “Oh, the patient is much better,” Lucy assured him. “She is sitting up in the garden. I will take you to her. I know she will be delighted to see you. She regards you as quite the hero,” she added with a strained smile. “She thinks of you already as her brother.”

  “Brother!” Alex said, startled.

  “Oh dear,” Lucy said, wringing her hands. “I have said too much.”

  “Indeed, you have said too little!” said Alex, detaining her when she would have sped off. “Why should Miss Andrews think of me as a brother?”

  Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. “Your brother has convinced my friend that he loves her! That he means to marry her. You saw him kiss me at the Folly. You know what a scoundrel he is! I am sorry to pain you—I know he is your brother—but he is such a man. I do not care that he has injured me. I suppose, at my age, I should be flattered by a young man’s attentions! At any rate, he can do me no real harm. But my friend truly believes in his love. She is completely taken in by him. I think she would believe the moon is made of green cheese upon his authority.”

  “Julian…and Miss Andrews,” Alex murmured, his voice blighted by astonishment.

  “He did not tell you? It is as I suspected! He is not sincere. He declared himself to little Henry, but to no one else in his family! Mr Devize, I have tried to warn her—he clearly does not mean to marry her—but she will not listen to a word I say!”

  “But he does mean to marry her,” Alex said quickly. “I did not understand him, but now I do. He is determined to marry her. You must accept it, Miss Rampling.”

  Lucy blinked in surprise. “I…I am glad,” she stammered.

  “Are you, Lucy?” he asked her gently.

  Lucy blushed. “Of course I am. I did not want to see my friend break her heart. But do you believe that he loves her?” she asked tentatively.

  “Why else would he want to marry her?” Alex asked. “It must be love.”

  Lucy bit her lip. “Perhaps my suspicions are unworthy,” she faltered.

  “Tell me,” he said curtly.

  “I daresay you have long suspected that Miss Andrews is not truly my mother’s nurse.”

  “I have always thought her a most unusual choice for that position,” he said wryly.

  “She is in fact a very rich young lady,” Lucy blurted out. “He is your brother,” she went on, biting her lip. “You know him better than I. Can it be he is after her fortune? Do you think it possible that he loves her? Does he seem like a man in love?”

  “I don’t wish to pain you, Miss Rampling, but he does.”

  Lucy looked down in embarrassment. “You do not pain me, sir. I did not want to be right! I want my friend to be happy. You have relieved my mind of all anxiety. I just wish…”

  “Yes?” he said gently. “What is it you wish?”

  “I suppose I am old-fashioned, Mr Devize,” Lucy said sheepishly. “But I think the banns should be called out in church three Sundays in a row. Then let the marriage take place. What is three weeks, after all, if two people are truly in love?”

  “An eternity,” said Alex.

  As Lucy had predicted, Viola was indeed delighted to see her future brother-in-law. A sofa had been placed outside for her in the rose garden. Wrapped in a luxuriant cashmere shawl, she reclined upon it
like a queen, offering Alex her hand, which he kissed politely.

  “I am pleased to find you looking so well,” he said.

  Despite a few scratches, and a swollen ankle, Viola looked radiantly beautiful. “Never mind about me,” she said impatiently. “I am tolerably well. What about Julian? Has he gone off to London as planned?”

  “No,” Alex said crisply. “There’s been a change in plan. Julian wants you to go to our family home in Sussex with our sister, Perdita.”

  “Sussex?” Viola repeated in astonishment.

  “Yes. The marriage will take place in Sussex.”

  “There, you see, Lucy!” Viola crowed in triumph. “Julian has gone to Sussex to reconcile with his father. He does love me.”

  “So it would seem,” Lucy said, looking at Alex uneasily.

  “My sister is to hire a chaise for the journey,” Alex began, but Viola interrupted him.

  “No need,” she assured him. “We can go in my carriage. We can leave as soon as you like, Mr Devize.”

  “My dear! Your ankle,” Lucy protested.

  “Nonsense!” Viola said angrily. “I scarcely notice the pain.”

  “You will in a jostling carriage,” Lucy retorted.

  “No, I won’t,” she argued.

  “Ordinarily, I would agree with you, Miss Rampling,” said Alex. “But, in this case, the young people are so eager, any delay would seem cruel.”

  “I knew I liked you,” Viola said happily.

  “I shall be your outrider, of course, so you need not fear anything on the road to Devizes,” Alex went on. “My brother also asked that Miss Rampling come along.”

  “Lucy? Why?” Viola asked. “She is against the marriage.”

  “I am not against it,” Lucy protested. “I’ve had doubts about the groom’s intentions, that’s all.”

  “Perhaps that is why Julian wants you there, Miss Rampling,” Alex replied.

  “You should be there,” said Viola, “to apologize for your hateful suspicions.”

  “But I cannot go,” said Lucy. “I cannot leave my mother.”

  “Oh, Cornelius can look after her,” Viola said carelessly. “You can be my maid of honor. You would not refuse me, surely?”

  Lucy became flustered. “Of course not,” she whispered.

  “Then it’s all settled,” said Alex.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Come and sit next to me, Master Henry,” Viola invited as Perdita and her three youngest children climbed into the carriage. Lady Cheviot, Miss Elizabeth, and Baby Hannah, the latter safely ensconced in her nursemaid’s arms, took up one side of the carriage, while Viola, Lucy, and Henry took the other. Perdita was vexed to be facing the horses, but, as it was not her carriage, there was nothing she could do. The footman stepped up behind her, and the carriage shot smoothly down the drive.

  “Is Miss Shipley not coming with us?” Lucy asked in surprise.

  Perdita stiffened. “Miss Shipley,” she repeated coolly. “Why, no. Miss Shipley has left us to take a new position in London.”

  Lucy’s mouth fell open. “But why, Lady Cheviot? I thought you had reinstated her. Did your brother not tell you what Henry did to him the night of the ball?”

  “Peaching again,” Henry grumbled, snuggling up to Viola.

  “Yes, he did,” Perdita answered. Her tone was that of one bored beyond endurance. “But Miss Shipley did not wish to be reinstated. She has done very well for herself,” she added with a contemptuous sniff. “She is happy.”

  “Why, what did you do, Master Henry?” Viola asked, nudging the boy playfully.

  “Henry was very naughty,” said Perdita. “He locked people up. My husband and our former governess. My brother Alexander and an unknown lady. I cannot make out who she was, and Alex refuses to say.”

  “Well, who was she, Henry?” Viola demanded. “Hmm?”

  “Can’t tell,” Henry said, luxuriating in Viola’s attention. “Word of honor.”

  “Uncle Alex would murder him if he told,” Eliza informed them.

  “That is as it should be,” Viola pronounced, petting Henry. “A gentleman must always protect a lady from any harm to her reputation. But I’ll wager that Miss Elizabeth knows. She can tell us.”

  Elizabeth did know, but she had also been sworn to secrecy.

  Viola laughed. “But you are a girl, Eliza. We females are never bound by our word the way men are. Why, if I was obliged to keep my word, I should have to marry my pony, Gypsy, instead of your charming Uncle Julian. I wouldn’t like that at all.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes were enormous. “Am I really allowed to break my word?” she cried.

  “Of course you are, my love,” said her mother. “If I had to keep my word, I should have to give Colonel Brandon the ten shillings I lost to him at cards. I certainly shan’t be doing that!”

  “There is no need for you to break your word, Eliza,” Lucy said quickly. “I was the lady. Mr Devize and I were merely looking for poor Miss Shipley when Henry locked us in a room.”

  “You, Lucy?” said Perdita. “Henry! Why would you do such a wicked thing to poor Miss Rampling?”

  Henry shrugged.

  “Because Uncle Alex is in love with her,” Elizabeth peached. “We heard them talking at the Folly. He asked her to marry him.”

  “Eliza!” cried Perdita as Lucy’s face flamed. “You mustn’t tell such ridiculous lies. You’re embarrassing Miss Rampling.”

  “It’s true, Mama,” clamored Elizabeth. “We thought if we locked her in with Uncle Alex, he might kiss her or something.”

  “But I don’t suppose he did,” Henry added resentfully.

  “Certainly not,” Lucy lied stoutly.

  “Of course not,” Perdita scoffed. “Uncle Alex is a gentleman.”

  “Uncle Julian would have kissed her. I bet he kisses you a lot,” Henry said to Viola.

  “Don’t be silly,” Viola replied. “Only married people kiss. Your Uncle Julian is always mindful of my honor. He wouldn’t dream of compromising me. What you did was very wrong, Henry. You have done great harm to Lucy’s reputation. Now she will have to marry Uncle Alex, or disappear from all good society.”

  Lucy did not realize she was being teased. “We were scarcely alone for three minutes before we managed to get out!” she protested vehemently.

  “Three minutes is quite long enough,” said Perdita. “A lot can happen in three minutes. You will find that out when you are married.”

  “Nothing happened,” said Lucy, panicking.

  “It’s not a bad match, Lucy,” Viola said thoughtfully, looking out of the window. Alex was riding alongside the carriage on his brother-in-law’s best hunter. “And it does explain why you were kissing Julian at the Folly. You wanted to make Alex jealous. I suppose I can forgive you for that,” she added charitably. “It’s the sort of thing I would do.”

  “I did not kiss Mr Julian,” Lucy said furiously. “He kissed me.”

  Viola bristled. “Julian wouldn’t do that.”

  “He did,” Lucy insisted. “He was furious because I took your place at the rendezvous. He said something nonsensical about ruining all my hope of happiness, and then he kissed me. Mr Devize was just coming upon us. The poor man looked so shocked!”

  “Of course he was shocked,” said Viola. “It must have been very shocking indeed to see the woman he loves kissing his brother! I daresay his heart was broken.”

  “Oh,” said Lucy. “I had not thought of that.”

  “He probably thinks you’re in love with Julian.”

  “No!” said Lucy.

  “He looks sad to me,” Viola said, observing Mr Devize from the window.

  “Do you think so?” Lucy said, studying Alex.

  “I fear I must warn you, Lucy,” said Perdita. “I don’t think my father will look upon the alliance with a friendly eye. And my mother will be quite livid! They both expect great things from Alex in the way of marriage.”

  “Lady Cheviot, I assure you, ther
e is to be no alliance!” said Lucy firmly. “May we please talk of something else?”

  The ladies relented, and Viola began to question Perdita about her family home. As they drew closer to the barony, Alex rode ahead of the carriage to inform his father of their approach.

  Lord Devize was pulling dandelions in his garden when his eldest son arrived. To keep his head cool as he worked, the baron wisely had knotted his handkerchief at the corners and was wearing it as a cap. Otherwise, he looked almost exactly like his gardener as he knelt in the flowerbed. Caught unawares, he could not disguise his delight at the sudden appearance of his son and heir, but, very quickly, as Alex made his way toward him on foot, he remembered to scowl. “What are you doing here, sir?” he snarled, stabbing at a particularly obstreperous colony of dandelions. “Out of money? Again?”

  “I’ve come to my senses, Father,” Alex announced abruptly. “I am prepared to marry Miss Peacock, if—”

  Overjoyed, the baron surged to his feet. He nearly made it, too. “Give me your hand, sir,” he rasped, flailing. “I want to embrace you, my son.”

  Alex obligingly hauled his father up and allowed himself to be embraced. “I have one condition, Father. It concerns Julian.”

  The baron withdrew, his eyes hooded. “Who?”

  “Don’t be childish, Father,” Alex said impatiently. “I will marry Miss Peacock, as you wish, if you will make Julian marry Miss Rampling. That is my offer.”

  The baron scowled. “Who the devil is Miss Rampling? Not Agrippa Rampling’s girl?”

  “Yes. What of it? You cannot object to her breeding. Her grandfather was an earl. It is not Lucy’s fault her father lost all their money and committed suicide.”

  “Nor is it my fault,” Lord Devize pointed out. “What do I care who Julian marries? I have no son by that name. He can marry who he wants. Did he send you to plead for him?” he jeered contemptuously. “Too cowardly to face me himself?”

  “He doesn’t know I’m here,” Alex admitted. “In point of fact, he’s jilted Miss Rampling for another girl. Her heart is broken. I know she puts on a brave front, but inside she is slowly dying. I can see it in her eyes.”

  Lord Devize did not care if Lucy Rampling slowly died. “What am I to do about it?” he growled. “Surely Julian has the right to choose his own wife.”