Two Brides and a Duke: A Steamy Regency Romance (Parvenues & Paramours, Book 4)

by Tessa Candle

  “Apologies for my lateness. I had some important business this morning which took longer than expected. But we will still be early enough if we leave now.”

  “Very well.” The man smiled, and Delville remarked with professional admiration that he had even made modifications to his teeth. “But first let me fix a few details.”

  He removed a jar from his side table and approached Delville. A few moments later Delville had been embellished with a light application of grime in just the right places, and his clothing had been rumpled.

  The fraudster offered him a shaving mirror to admire the new look. Andrews clearly appreciated the difference between honest dirt and the residue of slovenly habits. Delville appeared unkempt, but not at all like a man who did a proper day’s work for his living.

  He gave the embellishments a grudging nod of approval and handed back the mirror. “If you are quite done, I should like to arrive well before the real henchmen show up. Shall we?”

  Andrews gave him a yellow-toothed grin and waved him to the door with a demi-bow. “But of course. Future dukes first, your almost-grace.”

  The door at Oaken Path Boarding and Girls School was opened by a neat but modestly dressed woman, whose features suggested she was not accustomed to smiling.

  Delville decided not to turn on the charm, and opened his mouth to get straight to the point, but found himself pre-empted by Andrews, who gave the most indolent tug imaginable to his cap and drawled lazily, “You must be Mrs. Baker. We’re here for the girl.”

  He sported such a convincing lower class accent, that Delville only just restrained himself from staring at his co-conspirator stupidly.

  The woman squinted at Andrews, then at Delville. “I was told to have her ready for eleven o’clock. You are early—and where are Beatty and Hop?”

  Delville piped up, “Hop is on the outs. Spent the night in a gin house steada doing his job. Beatty had other business for the Mistress and sent us.”

  She looked as though she mostly accepted this explanation, so perhaps she was familiar with Hop’s love of the drink. “But this showing up early is most irregular.”

  “We don’t want to end up like Hop. The Mistress has her schedule.” Delville shuddered for effect and shook his head. “I sure ain’t going to be the one to break it.”

  The woman pursed her lips. “Very well, but the child is not yet ready. You will have to wait.”

  Andrews moved through the entry room as if expecting to be seen into a parlour.

  The woman crossed her arms. “I prefer that you wait in your carriage.”

  Delville shrugged and led the way back to the vehicle. But despite his feigned calm, his nerves were stretched taut. What if the other two yahoos arrived before they could get Persephone away from here?

  Andrews produced a deck of cards and began shuffling. “Care for a little piquet?”

  Delville gave him a look, but Andrews seemed innocent of any reference to Delville’s past. “No, thank you. Piquet is not to my taste, and I am not the gambler I once was. Besides, I am certain that playing against you would be disastrous.” Though a game with Andrews was, at least, unlikely to result in an unhappy engagement.

  However much Delville wished for a distraction from his worry, he knew it was better to remain alert.

  It was only twenty minutes later when the woman came out to the street, accompanied by a servant who carried a sleeping child across her arms and another who carried a tiny trunk. They had drugged her. Delville resisted the urge to lay a beating on her captors and snatch the girl away.

  He would do right by this poor little abandoned waif, but first he had to extract her smoothly from her captors.

  They loaded in the child and the trunk wordlessly. The lady seemed indifferent, received their adieus with a nod and turned to walk back to her comfortable parlour. What kind of person dealt with a child like so many pounds of carrots?

  Someone who worked for Red Martha.

  He signalled the driver to move on, then looked down at the sleeping face. Long inky lashes rested over her smooth cheek, and her mouth pouted seriously, as though she were solving some problem in her dreams. It reminded Delville so much of her father.

  “She looks just like Cantrell.”

  Andrews squinted. “Who is Cantrell?”

  “Her departed father. My friend.” Delville brushed back a few raven baby hairs from her forehead. She stirred in her sleep and sighed, her earnest pout turning to a smile. His heart fluttered. This sweet little creature was entirely dependent upon him now.

  Cantrell had been on his death bed and desperately worried about her safety when he gave Delville the task of finding Persephone. Otherwise he would have picked someone more suitable, not a drifting ne'er-do-well spy. But as Delville stared at Persephone’s somnolent face and considered everything she must have been through, he was resolved to find a secure and loving home for her.

  A momentary dream of watching her play amongst the butterflies and flowers of a grand estate garden flitted through his mind, and then he reminded himself that he was not a suitable guardian. Of course, neither was her current guardian, and unlike him, at least Delville was trying to protect her.

  “You look quite smitten, my friend.” Andrews gave him a knowing look. “I recognize that expression. I am sure it played over my own features when I first took charge of your cousin, Rosamond.”

  Delville scoffed. “I will take better care of her than you did of Rosamond. I will not lure her into a life of fraud and theft.”

  “Perhaps not.” Andrews considered the girl’s hands with a wistful air. “Though it would be a pity to waste those long delicate fingers. I am sure she could pluck the diamonds from a queen’s neck, with no one the wiser.”

  Delville shook his head. “You are incorrigible. But you shall not corrupt this little angel.”

  Andrews smiled sadly. “And you are done for, my friend. I know a lost cause when I see one. However, it is to my advantage, for I suppose you will be claiming that duchy, now. Everyone likes to have a duke owe them a favour.”

  “I shall thank you to stop bringing that up. You know I am trying to remain incognito. And I am paying you for your time, precisely because no one likes to owe a favour to a swindler.”

  Andrew snorted. “Quite. Well, no matter. No one will hear it from me.” He gestured at the child. “But you cannot just store her in your washstand closet. You will have to find somewhere suitable for her to live.”

  Delville gave Andrews a predatory flash of his white teeth. “Of course. And I know just the place.”

  “Do tell.”

  Delville hesitated. Now that it came down to it, he no longer liked his plan. He looked at the serene face of Persephone and his heart hurt. Putting this little angel under the care of someone like Andrews went against his instinct. Still he was the perfect person to get her to Fenimore safely and inconspicuously.

  He sighed. “How would you like to go visit Rosamond and earn another hundred pounds?”

  Andrews pursed his lips in a philosophical frown, slouching back in his seat. “I am listening.”

  Chapter 23

  Eleanor returned from delivering provisions to Screwe, tired and disheartened. She had added even more extra brandy to his allotment, telling herself it was for his comfort, but secretly ashamed that it was for her own. It was easier for her to appease him with drink than it was to trouble herself to listen to him.

  Continuing his incarceration disturbed her greatly, and she wished again and again that Delville could return to take care of this situation. She shuddered. But how would he do so? What if he planned to tidy up the loose ends by dispatching Lord Screwe? Eleanor could not abide murder, not even of Screwe. But surely Delville would not do such a thing. He was not that sort of man.

  She was in no humour for breakfast, so she requested some tea be brought to the parlour, where she would re-read Colette’s letter, just to cheer herself up. It might invite questions if she met Frobisher and Rosam
ond in such a dark mood.

  Her repose was disturbed, however, by a stir in the entrance hall. She heard the door open and voices. Who could possibly be calling at such an early hour? It could not be Auchdun—surely even he was not such an idiot as to think he could call at the front door of Fenimore.

  In a few minutes, she heard Rosamond’s voice sounding none too pleased out in the hall. No longer able to supress her curiosity, Eleanor tucked her letter back into her pocket and peeked out the parlour door to see what the matter was.

  A man, whose every element of attire declared him to be a dandy, posed in the entrance room, beaming at Rosamond. Frobisher stood back with an amused look, as though he were watching a theatrical performance. Rosamond frowned sternly at the man, while a young girl with long, dark hair and serious deep brown eyes stared on in silence, a dazed look on her face.

  “So of course I leapt at the chance to come visit you, dearest Rosy. But only look at this little face!” The man gestured at the child with a flourish of diamond rings, which could not distract one’s eye from the massive red bite mark on his hand.

  “You might have given us some notice of your intended visit, Andrews.” Rosamond remained unimpressed.

  So this was the infamous Andrews who had been Rosamond’s partner in crime, before faking his death and leaving her in the lurch. Eleanor knew their relationship was complicated, but she strongly suspected that Rosamond loved the old scoundrel.

  Rosamond’s features softened as she looked at the little girl, who seemed very uncomfortable and disoriented. “I think you must be tired and hungry. I am Lady Fenimore. What is your name, child?”

  “Ah! Forgive me!” Andrews spoke up, before the child could reply and extended a hand in the child’s direction, carefully remaining out of biting distance. “I should have made introductions. This darling little creature is Persephone Cantrell—only we must avoid revealing her true identity for the moment.”

  Persephone curtsied. “I am honoured to make your ladyship’s acquaintance.” She spoke in a practiced and serious way that was entirely inconsistent with the mark on Andrews’ hand.

  Andrews must have scared her. Good girl. Was this the child that Delville had been trying to locate? Eleanor slipped quietly into the hallway behind the party and gave a stealthy wink to Persephone. The girl blinked uncertainly, but did not show any other response.

  Andrews continued, “I have been tasked with finding a suitable roof under which to lodge the young one, and immediately thought of Fenimore, of course. What better place?”

  Rosamond summoned a maid, then leaned over to speak to Persephone. “Brown here will take you to the kitchen for some breakfast, and a little chocolate. Would you like that?”

  The girl nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”

  When the child had been led away, Rosamond once again addressed Andrews. “She is perfectly lovely. It is your involvement that gives me pause. How do we know this is not another one of your schemes? Admittedly, I had not thought you capable of kidnapping.”

  “Many would have called what I did for you kidnapping, Rosy, for I knew who your guardian was and did not return you to him. The fact that he was a murderous malefactor would not have changed the legal definitions of things.” He gave her a well formed look of wisdom. “But by moral definitions, I would never kidnap a child. Surely you know I have standards.”

  Rosamond pursed her lips. “Honour among thieves?”

  Andrews threw up his hands to the heavens. “Oh, how everyone loves to swing around that old chestnut. But there is more truth to those words than that sarcastic adage would allow. There is a code, after all. Anyway, you of all people should recognize a fellow orphan in need. And a certain cousin of yours,” he put his finger beside his nose and gave her a conspiratorial look, “knew the girl’s now-departed parents and has been tasked with rescuing her. Surely you will not refuse to help Mr.—ah, your cousin in his plan to assist an orphan!”

  So this was the child Delville sought! A weight lifted from Eleanor to know that she could exonerate him from any of the suspicions she had harboured. He had managed to rescue an orphan girl from who knew what peril. Her heart glowed.

  Yet why had Delville entrusted the child to this Andrews character? She supposed he could not come himself, while Miss Fitzpatrick was in the area, but could he not have found a governess to send along? In any case, Rosamond and Frobisher simply had to take the little one in, but Andrews’ involvement was complicating matters.

  “My cousin is about as smoky as you are.” Rosamond still looked suspicious.

  Eleanor knew Rosamond had good reason to mistrust Andrews’ schemes, and Delville’s for that matter. She had to be persuaded. “Rosamond, can I speak with you for a moment in the parlour?”

  “Certainly, Eleanor.” Rosamond asked Frobisher to check on the little girl, then instructed the footman to keep an eye on Andrews before slipping into the parlour with Eleanor.

  “I will come straight to the point. I know it is not my place, but I must beg you to take in this child. If you are concerned about the propriety of the arrangement, I am willing to take on all legal responsibility for any malfeasance. And I am also willing to take care of her, and put one of my servants to the task of acting as governess and pay for her general upkeep. Only I beg of you, please let her stay at Fenimore, for I have a strong conviction that I must help her.”

  Rosamond squeezed Eleanor’s hand. “Good, sweet woman. You are not as hard as you pretend to be! And I could refuse you nothing, so I would comply with your wish, even if I did not already have every intention of helping Persephone.”

  Eleanor expelled a sigh of relief. “You do?”

  “Oh yes. I was once in a very similar position to her, and could never turn her away. I am only relieved to hear that having a child around the house will not make you wish to leave us.”

  “Never!” Eleanor grinned at her friend. “Did you see the bite she gave Andrews?”

  “Oh yes!” Rosamond laughed. “I think she has great potential. If I seemed reticent, it was only because I was enjoying teasing Andrews. I think he would be disappointed if I did not.”

  Rosamond paused thoughtfully, then gave Eleanor a penetrating look. “I know why I could never turn my back on Persephone, but I wonder why you are so interested in her. Do you know something about the case that you are not telling?”

  Only that Screwe is locked up in your cave, and that is what forced Delville to take me into his confidence about the child—oh yes, and let me assist him in perpetrating a crime under the noses of our trusting friends. Eleanor stewed in her guilt, but she had to lie, or else risk the whole story unravelling.

  And if Rosamond knew it would surely destroy their friendship. “I know no more than you. But just to behold the little creature is to wish to help her. She is completely adorable.”

  “Yes, and apparently a good judge of character, for mistrusting Andrews enough to bite him. I would have expected her to fall under his charm immediately. For all that he is a scoundrel, he has a childlike imagination that little ones find sympathy with. I certainly did.”

  “Yes, and that turned out well enough.” Eleanor was relieved that her friend’s suspicion had apparently passed. “However, I think I should prefer to give the child a more conventional upbringing.”

  “Agreed. Well, then, let us go turn out Andrews’ pockets and then see if he plans to stay. I will speak to Treading about settling Persephone in.”

  They all took their breakfast with Persephone before she settled down for a nap. Then they bid adieu to Andrews who had decided to return to London, leaving Rosamond and Eleanor free for some indolent lying about in the parlour, reading by the light of the great window.

  There had been quite enough excitement for the morning, and Eleanor had soothed herself by finishing the re-read of Colette’s letter, before selecting a nice tepid volume of morality fiction that promised to not be overstimulating.

  The very first chapter was interrupted, h
owever, by the bustling entrance of Tilly, who rushed in, then lowered herself carefully into an overstuffed chair beside them, immediately looking about her for sweets.

  The footman, who was so far behind that he gave up on announcing Tilly, popped into the parlour. “Shall I bring refreshments, my lady?”

  Rosamond nodded to him. “Lovely to see you, Tilly. You seem rather excited. Has Auchdun managed to elope with your house guest?”

  “Not quite, however, the dinner last night went splendidly. There was much insipid complimenting and many knowing glances. Indeed, although it was all by my own design, the spectacle of my grand success made it hard for me to enjoy my dinner—though I assure you, the French chef I recently stole from my sister-in-law’s mother, had quite outdone himself. It was a shame to not do proper justice to his array of delicacies.” Tilly paused to take a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “But anyway, my two guests were utterly nauseating in their newfound obsession with each other.”

  This was good news.

  Rosamond grinned at Tilly. “It is too much to ask that you should like all the victims of your bow and arrow.”

  “No doubt, else I might be lest tempted to shoot at them.” Tilly gave Rosamond an arch look and tapped a finger on her lips. “But I am not sure whether Eleanor or Delville is more in my debt for the horrors of that evening.”

  Eleanor was about to assert that Delville was the greater debtor of the two, as he had actually allowed himself to become affianced, and there was a duchy on the line. However, she did not get the chance.

  Just at that moment a proud looking man, whose legs seemed too long for his short breeches, strode into the room without so much as a by your leave, followed by the horrified footman, who announced, retroactively, “Lord Benton and Mr. Wells.”

  Mr. Wells, who had waited to be announced, walked into the parlour and made the appropriate bows, his round, freckled face looking apologetic for the rude incursion of Lord Benton.

  Benton, far from appearing contrite, stood straight and stared down his flared nostrils, as though waiting for obeisance from an audience of humbled onlookers.