She went downstairs, and forgoing the delicious odors wafting from the breakfast room, went to find Bowes, the butler.
“Yes, miss?” He came to attention before her.
“Do you know the Anthony Averills? I believe they’re acquaintances of His Lordship.”
“I seem to recall the name. In fact, I believe the earl has received invitations to their home on several occasions.”
Merissa nodded excitedly. “Is it possible you might still have one of those invitations? Or anything that might give their address?”
“It’s possible. Why are you seeking such information, Miss Cassell?”
She smiled brightly. “I met them at the party last night and Mrs. Averill asked me to call. I didn’t want to bother Christian with it since he is...” she raised her brows meaningfully, “... rather indisposed this morning.”
The butler nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
A short while later, Bowes returned with a piece of parchment. “Here’s an invitation to some sort of masquerade party. It gives the Averill’s address.”
Merissa nodded. “Well, I’m off then. If you could call me a hackney.”
“I could have the phaeton brought around. His Lordship said you were to have the use of it any time you wished.”
“No, no, that’s too much trouble. I need to be off immediately.”
Bowes cleared his throat. “Miss Cassell, I’m not certain you are aware of this, but it’s generally considered bad manners to call on a lady before eleven in the morning.” He nodded to the timepiece on the hallway table; it showed barely ten o’clock.
“I... well I’ll take a drive in Hyde Park first,” Merissa answered. “I really do need a breath of fresh air.”
The butler secured a hackney for her. As soon as they were away from the curb, Merissa called out to the driver. “I don’t want to go to the park after all. Take me to 659 Park Lane.”
~ ~ ~
Bowes was not exaggerating. When Merissa announced herself to the Averill butler, the man looked down his long nose at her and said, “I’m sorry, madam, but Mrs. Averill never receives callers this early.”
“This is not a social call,” Merissa answered frostily. “Tell madam that I’ve come on urgent business regarding her husband and Lord Bedlington. It might well end up being a matter of life and death.”
The butler raised his brows at this, but did as Merissa bid.
A short while later, a lushly beautiful redhead sauntered into the drawing room where Melissa waited. The woman wore a thin silk wrapper that gaped open at the neck and clearly revealed the outlines of her nipples beneath. She draped herself over the chaise across from Merissa and regarded her coyly. “So, you must be Christian’s little light o’ love from Derbyshire.”
“I am a friend of Christian’s, yes. That’s why I’m here.” Merissa sat forward on her chair. “Are you aware that your husband and Christian have engaged to fight a duel?”
Mrs. Averill yawned expansively. “Really? How entertaining.”
“What? You don’t care if your husband is hurt or killed?”
Mrs. Averill shrugged. “Why should I? He’s a tiresome fool.”
“But he’s fighting this duel over your honor!” Merissa was appalled. She had not expected this woman to be so callous. “If you don’t care for your husband, what about Christian? Don’t you have the least bit of concern that he might be killed?” She fought for control, trying to make her voice calm and persuasive. “You were... lovers once. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Mrs. Averill raised her well-plucked brows. “I might have felt something for him... once. But he abandoned me, left me alone to face my husband’s wrath. I’m not certain I can forgive him for that.”
“But surely you don’t want him to die!” Merissa stood and approached the chaise. “Please, Mrs. Averill. I’m asking you to help me prevent this duel. If you care nothing for either man, then it’s even more imperative that you help me. Why should they risk their lives over a woman who values neither of them?”
Mrs. Averill rose. “It’s a matter of honor, something only men can understand, I’m sure.”
Merissa stared at Mrs. Averill in dismay. From the bored expression on her face Merissa was certain she was on the verge of dismissing her. Help! What do I do now?
Mrs. Averill stood and stretched expansively. The thin wrapper gaped even more, and Merissa could not help staring at her opulent décolletage. Was this what Christian had found so irresistible? She raised her gaze to her rival’s face. In the clear morning light there was a coarseness to Mrs. Averill’s complexion that seemed to hint at the corruption beneath the appealing exterior. Like jewels made of paste rather than precious stones, Mrs. Averill’s beauty was a fraud.
“Good day, Miss Cassell,” Mrs. Averill said, smiling maliciously.
Merissa’s heart sank as her hostess left the room. She’d been so certain she’d be able to persuade Mrs. Averill to help her. Obviously the cold-hearted bitch thought the duel was asinine, but still didn’t care enough to prevent the confrontation. Merissa wondered if Anthony Averill knew what his wife was, and if he would be so eager to defend her honor if he realized how cheaply she held his life? Perhaps if he knew...
Merissa’s mind whirred with a new plan. She would find Anthony Averill and speak with him.
She tiptoed out of the drawing room and looked around. The butler wasn’t in sight. Thank heavens Mrs. Averill had so disdained her that she hadn’t bothered to see that she was properly escorted out.
She tried to decide where the master of the house might be this time of the morning. Possibly still in bed if he’d drunk anywhere near as much as Christian had! She cast an uneasy glance toward the stairs and then heard the front door knocker sound. Frantically, Merissa slid into a little alcove filled with plants and hid behind a statue.
She heard muffled words. Then the butler led the guest past Merissa. She glimpsed a middle-aged man with a mustache, beaver hat, and expensive-looking clothing.
Further down the hall, the guest was greeted by another man. Merissa held her breath as the butler strode past her. Then she slid out of her hiding spot and tiptoed down the hallway the other way. From a half-open doorway came the sound of voices. Merissa moved near and listened.
“I fear a problem’s arisen,” one man said emphatically. “I’ve just been to the clubs and learned that Bedlington has chosen Sir William Gatwick as his second. I’d hoped he would choose one of his dissolute, drunken friends. But Gatwick’s experienced and shrewd. What if he cries foul? He’s bound to suspect something if Bedlington goes down without getting a shot off.”
“Who cares if he suspects something?” the other man retorted. “I’ll be safely on the continent by then.”
“Yes, and I’ll be here trying to clean up the mess,” the first man complained. “If there’s an investigation, it might well delay my assuming the title. I tell you, I need to get my hands on the Bedlington wealth, and soon.”
“You have enough to pay me, don’t you?”
“Of course, but that will take all I have. There’s been a great many expenses involved in this. I’ve had to arrange the marksman in the woods and bribe him to keep quiet. Fund that lavish party where we set Bedlington up. Then, you and your stupid wife almost bungled everything.” The man’s voice grew rancorous. “How could you let him get out of London? We almost lost our pigeon then. If not for Diana’s aid, we would have.”
“That was Honoria’s fault. She couldn’t get Bedlington to tumble her the next morning. Can you imagine, a slut like that and she fails us when we most need her?”
“What about that night?” the visitor sneered. “Why didn’t you confront him then?”
“Because he was out cold! The drug we gave him was too strong. It not only addled his wits but laid him out flat!”
“Foolish mistakes! Everywhere I look, I see stupid errors! I’m warning you, if this duel goes awry, I won’t save you.”
�
�Oh, you think not? Well, if it’s a matter of my neck, I won’t hesitate to tell them the whole story. I’ll make certain you pay as well!”
“Calm down, Anthony. Fact is, you need me as much as I do you. Without me, you don’t have the means to escape your London creditors. You’ll end up in the Fleet. I wonder how you’d fare there, with nothing but bread and water and a bunch of hardened sorts sharing your filthy cell.”
Merissa could almost feel the other man’s shudder. She wanted to hear more, to see if the visitor would reveal his identity but she was growing more nervous by the second. At any moment a servant might discover her. And after hearing this cold-blooded conversation, she didn’t like to think what Averill and his visitor might do to her if they felt she was an obstacle to their plans.
She moved cautiously away from the door and tiptoed toward the back of the-house searching for a servants’ entrance. She’d go out that way rather than risking a run-in with the butler.
Luck was with her, for she saw no one as she slipped out into a muddy alleyway. At first, she stepped carefully in the ruts left by wheels of the various delivery vehicles, trying not to ruin her slippers. Then she gave up and began to run. What did it matter if she destroyed a pair of shoes? Christian’s life was in danger!
Reaching the street, she saw the hackney that had brought her. She dashed up to the driver, panting hard. “Take me back to Lord Bedlington’s house,” she gasped. “And hurry!” Without waiting for him to help her up, she climbed into the vehicle. The driver turned to stare at her, obviously amazed by her hoydenish behavior. Then he clicked to the horses to urge them into a rapid trot.
Merissa was no more restrained when she reached the town house. As soon as the hackney halted she jumped from the vehicle and ran up the steps. “Please pay the driver,” she told a startled Bowes as she entered. “Where’s Christian?” she asked breathily.
“His Lordship has gone out.”
“Where? Where has he gone?”
“I don’t know, miss. He didn’t say.”
“What about Charles? Where is he?”
“In the breakfast room.”
“Charles, you won’t believe this,” Merissa announced as she burst into the breakfast room. “They mean to murder Christian!”
Charles paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Murder?”
She nodded violently. “I heard them, heard everything. They’re going to have a marksman in the woods. He’ll shoot Christian before he can get a shot off of his own.” She began to pace. “Averill, Christian’s opponent, he’s in on it. But I don’t know who the other man is. Someone close to Christian, someone who will inherit his title if he dies. Who could that be, Charles? Who?”
“I... I don’t know.” Charles looked utterly stunned. “How the devil did you learn all this?”
Merissa explained her meeting with Mrs. Averill and the rude dismissal, then the visitor arriving and how she had eavesdropped. “Christian will know who the man is,” she finished. “We have to find him and warn him. These men are desperate. If they think their plan of having him killed in a duel won’t work, they’ll try something else. Where is he, Charles? Do you have any idea?”
“He went to meet with his second. That’s what he said when I saw him this morning. He looked like hell, I might add. If he keeps up with this, he’ll kill himself with drink before the duel even takes place.”
“His second,” Merissa paused in her pacing, “that would be Sir William Catwick. Do have any idea where he lives, Charles? We might well find Christian there.”
Charles shook his head. “Catwick’s not part of Christian’s normal crowd. Must be some sort of old family friend.”
“We have to find him, Charles! Christian has to know what he’s up against!”
Her brother nodded and rose.
Sixteen
They borrowed Christian’s phaeton, obtained Catwick’s address from Bowes and went in search of the two men. But when they arrived at Catwick’s mansion near the river, no one was there. “Try the clubs,” the butler told them. “His Lordship spends most of the day there. Since it’s a bit after noon, I imagine he’s at White’s by now.”
Once more, they climbed into the phaeton and rode across town. When they reached St. James Street, Charles nodded knowingly to Merissa. “This is where the real business of England takes place. Business transactions, bills in Parliament, even marriages, it all happens in the clubs.”
“From which women are banned, of course,” Merissa sniffed. “I daresay they’re afraid we might run things better if we had a chance.”
“You sound like a dashed bluestocking,” Charles said reprovingly. “If we do get Christian out of this and he decides to marry you, you’re going to have to learn to curb your tongue. Most gentlemen don’t fancy having an outspoken wife.”
“Christian knows what I’m like,” Merissa retorted. “He’ll have to take me as I am or not at all.” Even as she spoke the words, Merissa wondered if she really meant them. She loved Christian enough that if her saucy tongue was truly making him unhappy, she knew she would try to change.
But first, she had to make certain he was alive to marry her!
“That’s it.” Charles pointed to the large bay window identifying White’s. He drove the vehicle up to curb in front of the establishment. “You wait here, Merissa. If I’m very long, you might have to move the phaeton, but I’ll catch up with you at the stables down the street.”
“No, you don’t!” Merissa jumped down from the vehicle. “I’m going in myself.”
“You can’t!” Charles gasped. “They don’t allow women! It simply isn’t done!”
“Hmmph!” Merissa said. She turned and started toward the club.
Fear for Christian carried her past the spluttering doorman and enabled her to endure the astonished looks of several dozen gentlemen gathered in the dining room. She knew she must look a sight. Her hair was coming undone, and her skirts were splattered with mud. At the thought of her disreputable appearance, her confidence flagged. If Christian wasn’t here, she’d feel an utter fool.
She turned back in the other direction and passed a scowling footman. He called out sharply, “Ma’am! Ma’am! You can’t go in there!”
Ignoring him, she marched on. There were only so many places Christian might be. Unless he was in a back room somewhere. Perhaps she should ask. But she feared the club employees were on the verge of overcoming their squeamishness at laying hands on a lady. She expected at any moment to be seized and bodily thrown out the door.
She ducked into the nearest open door. A handful of men were gathered at green baize tables around the room. For a moment, she went unnoticed amid the rattle of dice and murmur of conversation. Then a footman came up behind her and spoke in urgent tones. “Ma’am, I must ask you to leave. Please... I insist.”
Play abruptly halted and all eyes turned to look at her. At that moment, Merissa spied Christian. He was seated at the very back of the room. “Christian!” she called as she rushed towards him. “You can’t meet Averill! He’s going to kill you if you do!”
Christian rose as she neared him. “Melissa, what the devil...”
She threw herself in his arms. “I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I was just so worried. Thank God, you’re safe! I’ve found you in time!” She pressed her face against his jacket, feeling the tears pour down her cheeks. All the tension and fear caught up with her. She clung to Christian, as limp as a rag doll.
“I’m sorry, your Lordship,” the footman said. “I’ll be happy to take her out if you wish it.”
Merissa felt Christian’s arms tighten around her. “Certainly not,” he answered. “Can’t you see how distraught she is?”
“But, sir, the rules...”
Christian gently lifted Merissa’s chin and turned her to face the room. “Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my fiancée, Miss Merissa Cassell.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then applause. “Hear, hear!” someone sho
uted. “Bedlington’s finally going to get leg-shackled! A toast, a toast! Brandy all around!”
“Oh, Christian!” Merissa hugged him again and then looked up at his face.
He was uncustomarily pale and faint strain lines marred his handsome features. “I love you, Merissa,” he said sadly. “I don’t see how I can give you up, even in the name of honor.”
“Don’t you see, you don’t have to!” She grabbed his lapels, wanting to shake some sense into him. “I heard them. I heard them with my own ears! They plan to have a marksman in the trees. He’s going to shoot before you even have a chance to get a shot off!”
Christian frowned. “Whom did you hear?”
“Averill... and some other man. He must be someone close to you. He talked about assuming your title once you were dead!”
“Assuming the title!” The gray-haired man who had been sitting with Christian spoke for the first time. “This is serious, Christian.”
“What did he look like?” Christian asked. “Did you see him?”
“Stocky, with dark hair and a mustache,” Merissa answered.
“And where were you when this conversation took place?” the older man, whom Merissa assumed was Catwick, demanded.
“I was at the Averill house. I went there to talk to Mrs. Averill, to convince her to help me stop the duel. Then, when it was obvious she didn’t care if you lived or died...” Merissa gave Christian an “I told you so” look as she said this, “I waited around, intending to see Mr. Averill and try to reason with him. That’s when the other man arrived. They went off into some room and I eavesdropped at the door.”
“Remarkable!” Catwick exclaimed. “Absolutely remarkable!”
“I told you that there was no one like Merissa.” Christian gave her a fond look, then frowned again. “By Jupiter, I knew that my Uncle Percy has always resented my wealth, but I never thought he’d try to kill me for it!”
“Sounds like he seeks your title, too,” Catwick said. “That’s the thing about not having an heir, Christian. It makes you the target of unscrupulous men.”
Earl of Scandal (London Lords) Page 19