“Apparently you believe my dice too likely to win. I offer them to you. I will use yours.” Vincent’s crooked smile flickered briefly.
Fury and suspicion strong in his face, St. Edmunds reluctantly reached for the dice in Sudbury’s palm. Vincent held his own open hand between them. “If you will first give me yours, my lord….”
St. Edmunds slapped them into Vincent’s hand and grabbed the pair Sudbury held, speaking between his teeth. “Very well. Roll.”
Vincent nodded and went to one knee on the splintered floor. The others followed him down. He shook the dice and tossed them into the space between them.
Sudbury bent for a closer look. “Six! Two treys.”
St. Edmunds smirked. “Surprised, Lonsdale?” He cast Vincent’s dice and scowled.
“Three!” Sudbury called out. “Lonsdale wins.”
Vincent retrieved his own dice and left St. Edmunds’s on the floor.
“Surprised, St. Edmunds?”
Diana slipped into the room she shared with her children. Not since Bytham was born almost four years ago had she slept in the bed in which her husband’s body now lay. Sometimes she wondered if he had ever noticed. She tucked the covers snugly under her little son’s chin, smoothed his golden curls, and moved to his sister. Six-year-old Selena lay sprawled out of the cover, the flaxen hair splashed across the pillow mirroring her mother’s. Diana straightened her in the truckle bed, covered her and kissed her rose-colored cheek.
Dear God, how she loved them. The only lasting gift that Wyn had ever given her. The tears she had not shed for their father now sprung into her eyes. What would happen to her babies? In spite of her brave words, she had no idea how she might care for them. But almost anything would be better than to accept Lord St. Edmunds’s offer. She had not a doubt as to where his arrangements would lead.
No, as difficult as it would be, she would write to her father’s cousin. As the present head of the Bytham family he should be obligated to help her, but considering the longstanding feud between him and her father, she doubted that he would. At the very best she would become an unpaid servant in his house, and her children… She could not imagine what their lives as despised poor relations would be. She might even be separated from them. Oh, dear heaven.
Poor little fatherless mites! If Wynmond had been a poor husband, in many ways he was a worse father. Worse because, like most people who knew him, his children adored him. And he spent only enough time with them to ensure their adoration, disappearing for weeks at time afterward.
And he never understood that. In his way, he did love them—just as, in his way, he had loved her. The children would miss him. They would grieve as she no longer could. What comfort might she offer them? What would she tell them about their lovable, irresponsible father?
She went to her own narrow bed and felt under the mattress, sighing in relief. The last terrifying, precious gift of money still lay where she had hidden it. If indeed it could be called a gift. She prayed it had not been sent by Lord St. Edmunds. If he was the one who knew… An icy fist closed around her stomach.
She closed her hand tightly around the few remaining coins, the metal biting into her skin, the shame of possessing them gnawing at her heart. They would feed them, barely, for the next month, the month’s reprieve that Vincent Ingleton—to her complete surprise—had bought for her. Such a strange man. Dark and cold, with the face of a hawk. She had heard whispers about him, gossip of a misspent youth, a cruel nature. But Diana could hardly picture the man carousing. He had never been anything but solemn and polite in her presence. Solemn and polite and cold.
But three gentlemen awaited her downstairs. She must go to them. Blood stained her shabby gray gown, but Diana could not find the strength to change it. Perhaps they would go soon.
Go and leave her to her dead husband and her fears.
All three men rose politely as Diana came into the parlor, although St. Edmunds’s expression remained dark. He was not accustomed to losing. Neither was Vincent. But unlike St. Edmunds, Vincent took care not to underestimate his opponents.
He ignored the man and directed his question to the lady. “How did you find the children?”
“Sleeping, as I had hoped.” She rubbed her temples as though they ached. Sighing, she sank into a threadbare chair. “Thank you, all of you, so much for coming. I will let you know when I have made the funeral arrangements.”
“Anything at all I can do…” Sudbury leaned to kiss the hand she extended as he approached her.
“Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”
St. Edmunds cleared his throat. “Of course. If I may render any service at all, you have but to send word.” He glared at Vincent. “Your servant, Lady Diana…my lord… Sudbury.”
With a nod at Vincent, Sudbury followed St. Edmunds out the door.
When Vincent sat rather than follow them, Diana sent him a startled glance. With an effort he dredged up his crooked half smile. “I have persuaded Lord St. Edmunds to let me assist you with your future plans.”
The look of relief which rewarded that statement flickered after a moment and one of wariness replaced it. Not quite knowing how to reassure her, Vincent glanced down at the floor, only to see a cockroach emerge from under his chair. With an oath, he brought his boot down on it.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Once again color flooded Diana’s cheeks. “I cannot get rid of the creatures, no matter how much I clean. I find them everywhere.”
“And little wonder, in this hole.” Vincent stood and walked to where she sat, and stood looking down at her, forcing down the anger that rose in him. “My lady, you are not to blame for the roaches any more than you are to blame for the unpaid rent. I knew Wyn. I knew him well, and my heart is sore for the loss of him. But I also know his nature. He should never have brought you to this.” He glared around the room. He’d be damned if he would leave her here. “And I see no reason for you to stay here another minute. You are not even safe in this neighborhood. And with a dead body in the next room, the cockroaches and rats will… You cannot stay. Go and gather up what you need for yourself and the children, and I will take you to a hotel.”
“That’s…that’s very kind, my lord, but not necessary. I have survived here very—”
“Diana, spare me.” Vincent glowered in her direction. “You have survived, but only that. The moment that hag of a landlady spreads the word that you are now alone, you will cease to have any security at all.” He softened his tone. “I understand your pride, but you must remove yourself and your children from these quarters. Now go and collect what you need. I promise you will be safe with me.”
And from him, more was the pity.
She sat for a moment more with eyes closed and one hand pressed to her mouth. At last she drew in a deep breath and stood. “You are correct, of course. For months I have slept with a pistol by my hand. I will go with you. My concern must be for Selena and Bytham. If you will wait, it will take only a few moments.”
Vincent watched her through the door and began to pace the small room. Why had Wynmond Corby done this to her, to his children, to himself? Vincent shuddered. He had been so close to following the same path, so close to bringing himself to utter ruin. And he still wasn’t sure why.
Nor exactly why he had mended his ways, for that matter.
“I believe this will do for a day or two.” Diana came into the room dragging two small valises. “Now I must get the children up and dress them.”
“May I help?” Vincent moved toward the bedroom. “I know very little about youngsters, but perhaps I can assist.”
The first smile he had seen since he had helped carry a bleeding Wynmond Corby home softened her face. “It is not that difficult. Perhaps you can get Bytham into his clothes. He is such a heavy sleeper—it will be a struggle.”
His brief smile answered hers. “Surely I will prove equal to stuffing a small boy into his britches.”
Her eyes twinkled for an instant. “We shall see
.”
He had done surprisingly well with it, Diana thought as the hackney turned into St. James and headed toward Fenton’s Hotel, even if his lordship’s previously crisp neckcloth did now hang around his neck in crumpled folds. Thank heaven he had been willing to help her. She felt completely unequal to the task of wrestling with a cross, half-asleep, small boy. Getting Selena, now sleeping, slumped between them on the seat, dressed had almost proved more than she could do. When had she last enjoyed a sound night’s sleep? Diana could not remember. She roused herself when she realized his lordship was speaking to her.
“I desired the doctor to have the body prepared for the funeral. If you will tell me what you want, I will convey your wishes to him.”
“Oh, thank you.” Diana struggled to focus. “You are very kind. Right now I am not sure…” She rubbed at the pain in her temple.
“You needn’t think of it now. Tomorrow is time enough for that.” Vincent shifted slightly to move the dozing Selena away from his pocket, retrieved his overworked purse once again, and settled the child back against him, holding her upright. He removed a few coins and handed the purse to Diana. “There should be enough here to provide for any services you need tonight and in the morning. I had rather not be seen handing it to you.”
How thoughtful of him, even though Diana had little doubt that his championship of her would soon be all over London—with the attendant gossip. She should not take any more money from him. She really should not. But the pittance she had in her purse would hardly cover a night at Fenton’s, let alone meals for the children. Once more she must bite her tongue and swallow a large chunk of her pride with it. “Thank you, my lord. I will repay you as soon as I am able.”
He stared at her for a moment with sharp black eyes, and Diana experienced a twinge of alarm. Then he shrugged slightly. “Of course. In the meantime, until you have made your plans, I will settle with Fenton’s.”
The carriage drew to a stop and Vincent opened the door. He took Bytham from Diana and helped her down, then gave the boy back to her, lifted her daughter into his own arms and paid the driver. As they made their way into the hotel, Selena snuggled her face against his neck.
Diana collapsed onto the nearest sofa while her escort approached the desk. In a matter of minutes, the child draped limply across his shoulder, he had arranged for rooms with a parlor, turned the luggage over to the porter, instructed a maid to assist Diana with the children and seen the three of them upstairs.
And in a few more minutes he had invited her to send for him if she needed him, promised to call on her on the morrow and bowed himself out of the room, no doubt relieved to be rid of the three of them.
Diana fell into bed in a blur of fatigue.
Chapter Two
There was nothing for it.
He would have to ask for her help. And God! How he hated to do it.
Hadn’t he caused enough trouble for her in the past? Vincent trotted up the stairs of the town house and lifted the knocker. A dull booming on the other side of the door rewarded this effort and immediately thereafter a startled face appeared in the portal.
“Why, Lord Lonsdale! We haven’t seen you this age.” The tall, white-haired butler stepped back and bowed Vincent into a small but elegant entry.
“Good morning, Feetham.” Vincent nodded at the butler and handed his hat and gloves to a footman. “Is Lady Litton in?”
“I’m not sure, my lord, but I will inquire.” Feetham nodded at the footman who disappeared up the stairs.
Vincent carefully schooled his face to show no expression. What the butler meant was, of course, that he did not know if his mistress was willing to see Vincent. The footman reappeared in a matter of minutes.
“Her ladyship is in the morning room,” he reported. “She asks that you come up.”
Vincent nodded to Feetham and followed the footman back up the stairs and into a cheerful chamber, bright with sunlight.
The dark-haired lady on the sofa, a lady only a few years Vincent’s senior, smiled warmly and held out a hand. “Vincent! What brings you here?” A tiny wrinkle formed, marring the perfect skin between her eyes. “Is something amiss?”
“No, my lady.” Vincent bent and kissed his stepmother’s smooth fingers. “At least not…”
“Well! Will wonders never cease?”
Vincent turned toward the fair-haired gentleman who had just sauntered through the door and bowed. “Good morning, Lord Litton.”
“We haven’t seen you since Helen and I married.” Adam Barbon, Viscount Litton, extended a hand, which Vincent shook.
“For which, I am sure, you are suitably grateful.” Vincent tried to smile.
“Now, Vincent, don’t talk so. You know you are welcome here.” Vincent was relieved to hear that. He had not been sure. Helen Barbon reached for a fresh cup on the tray just provided by the footman. “Do you still take your coffee black?”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you.” Vincent took the cup and marveled that she truly seemed to mean what she said. How could anyone be that forgiving? But he had hoped she would be. Otherwise, he would not have come.
Had it not been for Diana, he would not have come at all.
He only hoped his stepmother’s new husband would find himself able to command an equal degree of forbearance.
His lordship grinned. “I’ll hold my gratitude in abeyance until I discover what has brought you here this time.”
Vincent took a sip of coffee, struggled with the words and finally choked them out. “I need your help.”
One of Litton’s eyebrows rose. “Do you, indeed?”
“I would not ask… I dislike troubling you, but…” Vincent felt his mouth tighten. “I am not asking for my own sake.”
“Heaven forfend that you should ask your family for help.”
The sarcastic tone caused Vincent to look at his stepfather more closely, his eyebrows drawing together. He half rose. “If you had rather I not, I will immediately relieve you…”
Litton waved the comment away. “Oh, sit down, sit down. Tell us who needs what.”
“Pay him no mind, Vincent.” Helen reached out to place a calming hand on Vincent’s sleeve. “You know how he is. We are happy that you asked. Now…who needs our help?”
Setting aside for the moment that he had never understood how Adam Barbon “is,” Vincent directed his gaze at Helen. “It is a lady.”
“A lady?” Litton looked at him with renewed interest. “I begin to have hope.”
Vincent felt the blood heating his cheeks. “You misunderstand me, my lord. Not…not my lady.”
“Hmm.” Litton held out his cup for his wife to replenish.
“Who, Vincent?” Without asking, Helen took Vincent’s cup and added hot coffee to it. “Is it someone I know?”
“I’m sure you at least know of her. I am speaking of Lady Diana Corby.”
“Ah. Yes, I have a slight acquaintance with her. One does not see her out anymore.”
“Little wonder in that.” Litton helped himself to a pastry from the tray. “With that wastrel for a husband, she could hardly afford it.”
“Lady Diana no longer has a husband.” Vincent looked back at two pairs of startled eyes. “Wynmond Corby was killed last night.”
“Oh, my. How awful.” Helen covered her mouth with one hand. “He left her with small children, I believe.”
Vincent nodded.
“I don’t suppose he left anything to care for them?” Litton looked at Vincent, eyebrows raised.
“No, sir. That is the difficulty. Lady Diana is allowing me to assist her temporarily.” His face got warmer as his stepfather’s eyebrows rose higher. The devil take him. It had been hard enough to leave her last night without… “Now, my lord. Damn it, Litton, that is not the way of it!”
Helen sighed. “Don’t tease, Adam.”
“No, no. I’m not teasing.” Litton sobered. “It is just very… How did this come about, Vincent?”
Vincent related the whol
e sorry tale.
“And he had no will?” Litton studied Vincent seriously.
Vincent shook his head. “Apparently not. Wyn always did seem to think he would live forever.”
“Damned irresponsible young jackanapes!” Litton scowled. “With a wife and children and he…”
Vincent nodded. “Just so. But this is the first thing he has ever asked of me—and perforce the last—and I intend to oblige him.”
“And the lady herself?” This time Litton’s expression was not sardonic, simply inquiring.
“She is a very fine lady.” That was all that Vincent intended to say about that.
“I see.” Litton pondered for a moment, his expression speculative. “It is going to look very havey-cavey, you know, your providing for her. I suppose you can afford it?”
Vincent waved the question away. “Oh, yes, but it may not come to that. She intends to write to her cousin. It is his duty as head of her family.”
“Won’t do it.” Litton shook his head. “Her father was the only Bytham worth his salt, and his cousin hated him. So what will you do?”
“For the long run, I cannot yet say. That is why I need your help. The rooms where they were living are infested with cockroaches, rats and a corpse. Lady Diana could not stay there with the children. I took her to Fenton’s for the night, but that is not a good situation, either. It would be, however, much worse to bring her to my house.”
He could never trust himself for that.
“Of course,” Helen broke in. “I understand what you need. Bring her to me. She and the children may stay with me until she can make other plans.”
“I would be very grateful. I hope it will not be for long.” Vincent sighed with relief. “I will see to the funeral, but it would be a great kindness if she had someone with her.”
“She will be more than welcome. I will write her a letter immediately and invite her. You may carry it to her when you leave.”
Helen went to her desk, pulled out stationery and began to write. Litton gazed at Vincent speculatively. “Do you need help with the funeral?”
Earth, Air, Fire, and Water 04 - A Treacherous Proposition Page 2