by Julia Parks
Cherry sighed again, and Jane had to restrain herself from giving her young cousin a lecture on deportment and respect for her elders. But she relaxed against the squabs and closed her eyes. Somehow, the outing she had been looking forward to had turned into a battle of wits. She wished she had stayed at home to help Cook and let Tucker go in her place.
But as they entered Bath, Jane’s spirits lifted. It was always more amusing to shop with someone else, and Cherry would soon be gone to London. She had best enjoy her company while she could. Thus, as they neared the library, Jane instructed the footman to pass it by and continue to the fashionable shops in Milsom Street.
Mrs. Warner greeted them by name and bade them be seated while her minions scurried to do their mistress’s bidding. In moments, Cherry and Jane had been served a cup of tea and were debating the merits of the latest fashion plates in La Belle Assemble. Mrs. Warner consulted on styles and fabrics, and the good businesswoman shortly had her clerks bring forth all manner of cloth: linens, silks, satins, wool crepes, delicate muslins, and the finest lawn for those unmentionables.
After selecting two morning gowns and a new carriage dress to wear the day she journeyed to London, Cherry wandered about the parlour, looking at the strategically placed displays in the window.
Jane bent her head to examine the lovely green velvet Mrs. Warner’s clerk had just brought in. The feel was exquisite, soft and supple. When she lifted it, the play of light on the nap of the fabric made it seem alive.
“This is lovely, Mrs. Warren. I must have it. Cherry, what do you…”
Jane’s glance took in the emptiness of the parlour. Surely Cherry wouldn’t be so selfish? But that, of course, was a foolish thought. Cherry, who could be so thoughtful at times, was basically self-centred.
“Miss Lindsay, is there something wrong?”
“No,” Jane assured the modiste. “My cousin, who was meeting friends, must not have wanted to interrupt our business. I see she is already gone. Unfortunately, we neglected to set a time and place for our departure this afternoon. If she should return here, please tell her to meet me at Goodnight’s Pastry Shop at two o’clock.”
Fortunately, Jane knew she could trust Mrs. Warner to remain silent and their little charade should fool any other listening ears.
The least Cherry could have done was to pick a different location for her disappearance. Mrs Warner made a great pretence of promising to deliver Jane’s message to Miss Pettigrew, but predominant in both ladies’ minds was the remembrance of Miss Pettigrew’s indiscretion the past autumn.
When I get my hands on her!
Jane stalked down Milsom Street, giving each shop front a cursory glance as she passed. She paused at the entrance to the Octagon Chapel. It was a possibility, so she entered. And so Jane’s afternoon proceeded with her anger, frustration, and worry growing every minute.
She was approached by tradesmen hawking their wares, rollicking bucks already in their cups, and beggars as she made her way gradually toward the Pump Room. This was her last resort, yet Jane hoped Cherry had not been so foolish as to go into such a public place in the escort of a solitary gentleman. But there was nowhere else to search—it was almost two o’clock and she would need to return to Milsom Street to meet the coachman soon.
Jane paused as she entered High Street, her gaze travelling from the White Lion Hotel and Guildhall on her left, past the Orange Grove and Abbey, and down to the Pump Room. She flipped open her grandmother’s watch that was pinned to her bosom. Two o’clock, already.
The clatter of a carriage made her look up again.
“Jane! Oh, Jane! Come and see Lord Devlin’s spanking team! Aren’t they splendid?”
Jane’s furious glare was met with a quizzical expression from the viscount.
“Splendid,” she said through clenched teeth.
Drew’s tiger had gone to the horses’ heads, and the viscount threw him the ribbons. He helped Cherry descend before turning to face Jane.
Cherry continued to chatter alarmingly while Jane duelled silently with Drew. Then he laughed and lifted Cherry’s hand to his lips.
“I think, Miss Cherry, that your cousin would like to be private with me so that she may ring a peal over me. Is that not right, Miss Lindsay?” Jane said nothing, and he turned to his tiger. “Drive to Milsom Street, Piglet. Find the Lindsay coachman, and tell him to come to the White Lion immediately. We’ll be having tea.”
“No, we will not,” said Jane.
Drew smiled and nodded. “Tell him to come here.”
“Yes, m’lord,” said the happy tiger. He climbed into the driver’s seat and was soon gone.
“Now, Miss Lindsay?”
“Oh, no, Jane, please! Lord Devlin…” Her voice dwindled to nothing, and Cherry moved away from them, her face a bright red.
Drew took Jane’s arm and propelled her toward the Colonnade. He turned to her with twinkling eyes.
“Let me have it.”
“What do you mean, sir, making assignations with a young lady old enough to be your…your little sister! Have you no conscience?”
“I suppose not.”
His admittance only angered Jane more, and she found her entire body shaking with the effort to maintain some semblance of control in this public place.
“Well, let me tell you, sir, that here our gentlemen know better. And if you intend to live up to your reputation as Devilish Devlin, then I suggest you leave Bath! Why don’t you leave England altogether and get back to that island of yours!” She gasped as his eyes narrowed. She had gone too far, but it was too late now to take the words back.
His voice was low and derisive. “May I suggest, madam—and I use that form of address because you are acting like a stupid mother hen—that you keep your opinions of my character to yourself until you have learned what really transpired? You are nothing better than a termagant with your ranting and raving. It is no wonder your cousin behaves with a lack of decorum with you as an example!”
With this, he turned on his heel and stalked away. Jane remained fixed like a statue, unable to take in Cherry’s babbling explanations.
Some moments later, Jane took a deep breath and focused on her cousin’s tear-streaked face with surprise.
“What is it, Cherry?”
“You don’t understand,” sobbed the girl. “It wasn’t Lord Devlin at all. It was Peter, Lord Pierce!”
Jane felt the pavement reel beneath her feet. What had she done? Her tongue, her wretched tongue!
She took Cherry’s elbow with one hand to guide her to their coach, which had just arrived. Once inside, she bade the distraught girl to dry her tears and blow her nose and tell what had really happened.
“It was my idea. I wanted to go to the Pump Room today. That frightful Annie Hawthorne is always telling me how wonderful it is to go every day and hear the gossip and have the men dangling after her. She makes me feel like such a baby. And I knew you would not consent, for you’re always saying it’s such a waste of time.”
Jane agreed, and told Cherry to continue.
“So I told Peter we would be shopping and asked him to come to the dressmaker to rescue me.”
“And you didn’t want to ask me because you knew I would forbid you to go there with only Lord Pierce for escort?”
In a very small voice, Cherry said, “Yes.” Then the rebellion returned to her tones. “And you know it’s true!”
“So Lord Pierce agreed, even though he knew it was improper. You should have more pity on the man, Cherry. But where does Lord Devlin come in?”
“He saw us on the steps to the Pump Room and asked us if he could join us. He even sent a servant to find you and tell you where we were.”
“I received no messages, but I suppose he couldn’t find me. I was out walking all over Bath by that time.”
“Anyway, once inside, he introduced me to everyone I didn’t know, including a duchess!”
“Now you are roasting me!”
“No, truly
! And I sat with her the entire time. Actually, she is the Dowager Duchess of Wentworth. She was most kind. I believe she has known Lord Devlin forever. She warned me that he was a wicked man, but she was only teasing me. And she said she thought I would be the darling of the coming Season!”
Jane couldn’t help smiling at this childish boasting, but her thoughts returned to her encounter with Lord Devlin, and she blushed, shocking her cousin.
“Jane? What is it?”
But Jane sank into her corner of the carriage, her spirits completely downcast. There was no help for it; she would have to write a letter of apology.
It was time for tea when they reached Heartland, but Jane was still too distraught to relax and enjoy the respite. Her solicitor was waiting in the study, Pipkin informed her, his expression dour and forbidding.
“Did he say what it was about?”
“No, Miss Jane,” said the butler as he opened the study door for her to enter. His next words were spoken like a preacher warming to his subject. “And he said, ‘Woe unto you also, ye lawyers! For ye lade men with burdens grievous to be borne, and ye yourselves touch not the burdens with one of your fingers.’”
Crankshaft, who had been the family attorney for many years, ignored Pipkin’s pronouncement and bowed low over Jane’s hand.
“Miss Lindsay, I know you have never thought of Heartland as a burden.” He paused as they both recalled Pipkin’s biblical pronouncement. Clearing his throat, the plump Mr. Crankshaft continued, “But someone has brought to my attention the fact that it might be so, and that person has offered to, uh, relieve you of the burden. For a very generous sum, I might add.”
Jane smiled. “Are you saying someone has offered to buy Heartland?”
He nodded.
“I hope you told him it wasn’t for sale?”
“I did indicate that it was unlikely. But the sum—”
“I wouldn’t take all the money in the Treasury. No, nor all the jewels, either!”
“I do understand, Miss Jane, but I did tell the gentleman I would approach you.”
Jane shook her head. What next? How could anyone think she regarded Heartland as a burden? It was her home! It was her life!
She turned sharply, her eyes on the discomfited lawyer. “Who was it? It couldn’t have been anyone from Bath. Who would think I might want to sell?”
“I did promise to keep his identity confidential.”
“Mr. Crankshaft, you have worked for my family for the past twenty years. I know I hope you have been happy in this association and wish it to continue.” Jane’s was only bluffing, but the man in front of her had no clue to this.
“It was Lord Devlin. He wants to buy it for his mother.”
“Devlin! I might have known! And all these visits have only been to inspect the property!”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Lindsay?”
“Never mind, Mr. Crankshaft, never mind. You will join us for tea before you go back to Bath, won’t you?”
b
Drew stretched his stiff limbs before picking up the morning mail and papers. He sifted through several before coming to the one he had been expecting. A smile was on his lips as he opened it.
Dear Lord Devlin,
I must apologize for jumping to the wrong conclusions the other day. I want to thank you for saving my cousin from her own foolishness.
Also, I want to thank you for the very generous offer for my house. Heartland is not now, nor will it ever be, for sale. Especially to you.
Most truthfully,
Jane Lindsay
The smile faded from his lips.
She was the most maddening female he had ever met. If he were in the market for a wife, he would marry her just to have the right to teach her how to go on. But he was not in the market for one, of course. Someday, perhaps, but not until his odious uncle was dead. And when he did choose a wife, it would be a sweet, unspoiled girl, perhaps the daughter of a respectable curate like his mother, someone who would be biddable and calm. It certainly wouldn’t be some high and mighty spinster with more hair than wit.
No, that wasn’t fair. Jane Lindsay was anything but stupid. Arrogant, pushy, self-righteous, and prudish, perhaps. Well…not prudish, not deep down.
His mind wandered, as it frequently did, to their encounter in Brother Valentine’s crypt. Passionate was the word for Miss Lindsay, though he doubted very much if Jane would agree with him. She wouldn’t admit to such an improper characteristic. It was no wonder she intruded into his thoughts so often.
Pushing his chair away from the table roughly, he walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of port. Sipping it thoughtfully, he was interrupted by his valet.
“What is it, Samuel?”
“Mr. Havelock wishes a few moments of your time, my lord.”
“Send him in.” Just the man I need to see.
He liked a woman with spirit, but Jane Lindsay was a shrew. She needed taking down a peg. And if what he had in mind resulted in her selling Heartland to him, then so much the better.
“Devlin, old man. So good of you to see me so early in the morning. I do believe the rest of the world sleeps till noon, but I knew I could count on you.” He took the seat indicated.
“Samuel, get Mr. Havelock some coffee. And a plate?” he asked his visitor.
When they had both been served generous helpings of grilled kidneys, eggs, and toast, Havelock said confidently, “How about joining me this evening in a hand of cards? I’m meeting friends for dinner and then cards, dice, and so on.”
“Yes, thank you for inviting me.” Drew waited a few minutes before asking casually, “Tell me, have you had any more thoughts about that little puzzle we discussed recently?”
“What puzzle is that?”
“Who will inherit Heartland when Miss Lindsay is gone.”
“I did ask a fellow about it, you know. And he said it sounded like my mother. Of course, if she’s gone, it would be a matter for the courts to decide.”
“I daresay. You know, your cousin is not in the ordinary way.”
“Jane? Lord, you don’t have to tell me! She cares nothing for the gentler arts. Do you know she can shoot, drive, hunt, fish, and even fence a little bit?”
“Is that so? A regular fellow, eh?”
“Just about. Of course, I doubt she could best you or me in any of those things, but she’s good, all the same.”
“Still, she does have her foibles, if Miss Cherry is to be believed.”
Roland stopped chewing and looked up inquiringly.
“I understand she is extremely superstitious. So much so that she won’t walk near a graveyard at night.”
“I suppose that could be true. That old nurse of hers was from Cornwall and filled Jane’s head with all sorts of nonsense. I think she’s batty—the nurse, I mean—and I told Jane she should turn her off when she outgrew her usefulness, but Jane wouldn’t hear of it. Just another example of how wrong it is to have a woman in charge of an estate like that.”
“Exactly! You know, I offered to buy Heartland from her?”
Havelock choked on his coffee, spilling some down the front of his brocade waistcoat. “Did she take your head off?”
“Oh, I spoke to her lawyer. She did write me though. Most unpleasant.”
Havelock snorted. “No doubt! She got a viper’s tongue.”
Momentarily diverted by a very different remembrance of that tongue, Drew fell silent. But after all, what he was going to propose was just a prank, just a little joke to get back at Miss Lindsay for her impudent letter.
With this in mind, he leaned closer to the distasteful Roland Havelock and pretended an interest in his guest’s conversation.
b
It was the next morning, and Drew had a dreadful headache. Probably from that wretched liquor he had consumed the night before while attempting to be an agreeable host, he thought miserably. But it was worth it. Everything had gone as planned.
He knew Roland Havelock was a dreadful c
ard player and a reckless gambler. While Drew rarely indulged, he was generally quite lucky. And even if he hadn’t won, which he had, he was certain Havelock would lose, spreading his vouchers around the table. As luck would have it Drew now held most of those vouchers in his dressing gown. They would be sufficient to win Havelock’s cooperation in the little prank he intended to play.
“Mr. Havelock, my lord,” announced the valet.
Drew took another sip of the strong black coffee and tried to appear more sharp-witted than he felt.
“Your servant, Devlin,” groaned Havelock. Drew had thought his own appearance sadly rumpled, but compared to the unfortunate Roland Havelock, he was in excellent shape.
“Have a seat.” Drew produced a handful of crumpled vouchers from his pocket and spread them on the table. “I assume you’ve come to take care of these.”
“Well, I, uh…you see, there is some difficulty…”
Drew raised a brow and waited mercilessly.
“I’ve had some setbacks recently and must beg your indulgence for a short time.”
“How short?”
“A matter of two or three weeks, at most.”
“Let me understand this, Havelock. You played an entire evening, losing all the while, and had no way to redeem your vouchers?” Havelock nodded slowly. “Very bad form, old man.”
“I do apologize, my lord. I expected my run of bad luck to end.”
“That’s what all bad gamblers say. Still, there is a way.”
“Yes?”
“You could do a small favour for me, and I would be willing to forget these.”
Havelock watched Drew lift the pile of notes, letting them slip through his fingers. Havelock slipped a nervous finger inside his wilted collar and licked his fat lips.
“What is it?”
“A trifling matter. I have a score to settle with your cousin, Miss Lindsay. It is but a prank, but I believe it would take her down a peg. Of course, I will understand if you feel you cannot help me out of family loyalty.”