Scoundrel in My Dreams

by Celeste Bradley

  Laurel dropped her hand. Polite social conversation did seem a bit silly. “I am—” What was she? Prisoner or guest? Victim or lover? Abruptly she was no longer sure. The reality of these people seeing her and seeing her locked cell seemed to flip some sort of switch in her mind.

  Icy realization doused her. Nothing she’d felt or believed in this room could ever be considered real. In a mere matter of days she’d come to feel at home in her attic cell. Her mind had slipped sideways into receptiveness so quickly, it made her wonder if she were perhaps a little bit mad.

  She stumbled in her explanation. “I am—”

  “Mama!” Melody bounced into the room, waving Gordy Ann in the air joyously. “Can Maddie and Pru play ‘Queen in the Tower’ now, too?”

  Lady Madeleine pressed a hand to her throat. “ ‘Mama’?” she whispered. “Oh, sweet heaven, how could he?”

  Lady Lambert made a face. “Jack, you idiot!” There were a few other choice words beyond that, but Laurel pretended not to hear.

  The tall, haughty servant stepped forward and bowed. “Madam, I am Wilberforce, head of staff here at Brown’s. Is there anything I may do for you?”

  Laurel only stared at him, at Lady Madeleine’s white-faced shock, at Lady Lambert’s open cursing, down at Melody, who had her arms wrapped around Laurel’s shins and who smiled up at her happily.

  She looked back up at Wilberforce. “I could truly use a cup of tea.”

  It took several pots of tea, served to them by a footman so vastly tall that he was forced to duck beneath the attic beams. Laurel told Maddie and Pru, as she was commanded to call them, every detail of her arrival and subsequent incarceration. Well, not every detail. She left out the intimate bits and she kept quiet about her master key, not wishing for them to realize how she’d roamed the club at night, poking into their rooms.

  Wilberforce had taken Melody away, luring her with the promise of lemon seedcakes, so Laurel could speak freely. Pru moved restlessly about the room. “You should pack at once,” she said firmly.

  Madeleine still did not seem comfortable in the room. She kept looking about her nervously. Laurel finally took pity on her. She leaned close. “I’ve been assured that the Badman is completely and entirely dead, several times over in fact.”

  Madeleine shot her a dark glance. “Is he? Jack knew of my imprisonment. The fact that he would use this room so—” She shook her head. “It’s simply four walls and a window.” She swallowed. “And a door. Did you know there was a peephole drilled into the door?”

  Laurel had not. She sprang to her feet and strode to the open door, pulling it to and fro to examine it. “No. I can see where there was one, but it has been filled in quite permanently.”

  Madeleine’s brows gathered. “Well, I suppose we can give Jack one mark for decency.”

  “Ha!” Pru stopped her prowling in the center of the room and turned to them. “You must leave at once.”

  Laurel blinked. And here she thought they were getting along so well.

  Madeleine stood. “Yes. At once.” She brushed at her eyes. “I shall tell Fiona to pack Melody’s things.” She dashed from the room, but not before Laurel heard a sob break from her throat.

  Pru was white-faced and grimly determined. “I love Melody like my own, but I will not stand for this sort of high-handed, bloody-minded—”

  Laurel held up a hand to forestall more cursing, no matter how appropriate it might be. “You’ll let me take her away?”

  Pru blinked at her. “Of course. You’re obviously her mother. One need only look at the two of you to see that.”

  “But . . . you all love her so—”

  Pru flinched but would not budge. “And you love her or you would not have come to Brown’s in the first place. She adores you, as well.”

  Laurel gazed at Pru for a long moment. “You’re terribly fierce.”

  Pru slid her a glance, her green eyes damp. “No, I simply look it.” Then she turned away and grabbed up Laurel’s old valise from the top of the wardrobe. “Pack. I shall send Bailiwick to arrange transportation. Where would you like to go?”

  Laurel looked at the four walls, the window, and the door with the lock. Seeing it with the eyes of the others, she shuddered inside. What had she almost done?

  “Far,” she said huskily. “Very, very far away.”

  Colin and Aidan couldn’t believe it.

  Colin ran a hand over his face. “He didn’t. He couldn’t.”

  Pru grimaced. “He did.”

  Aidan’s jaw worked grimly. “I had no idea he was so far gone.”

  Colin looked at his friend. “We could have prevented this.”

  Aidan looked back at him. “We could have, but we didn’t. We wanted to believe he could come back to us.”

  Madeleine couldn’t stop her eyes from leaking. “She’s taking her away. Far away, she said.”

  “Can you blame her?” Pru wasn’t any drier. “She must be traumatized!”

  Madeleine bit her lip. “I think . . . I’m not sure, but when I was in the room . . . I think he slept with her there. I saw his cravat on the floor beside the bed.”

  Pru clapped a hand to her mouth. “The bastard!”

  Colin leaned back against the wall. “I feel sick,” he muttered.

  “I,” Aidan bit out furiously, “would rather that Jack felt sick!”

  Madeleine wrapped her arms about her midriff. “I spoke to him only this morning. He seemed very calm, very . . . resigned.”

  Pru looked up. “Resigned? To what, do you suppose?”

  Madeleine shrugged one shoulder tentatively. “I don’t really know, but . . . well, the door to the attic chamber wasn’t actually locked, you know.”

  Colin straightened. “It wasn’t?”

  Madeleine shook her head. “No. Wilberforce simply opened it and we saw Laurel sitting there. She seemed as surprised to see us as we were to see her.”

  Aidan’s scowl cleared. “He let her go.”

  Colin brightened. “Of course he did!” He turned to his wife, who looked highly doubtful. “Don’t you see, Pru? He’d decided to let her go! That’s why he went to Melody so early this morning. He was saying good-bye!”

  Pru blinked. “Oh, that poor man.”

  Madeleine stared at her. “Pru, you’ve always mistrusted Jack.”

  Pru waved a dismissive hand. “Well, I don’t now and there’s no point in bringing up the past.” She turned to her husband. “You have to find him. He’ll think we hate him!”

  Colin blinked, confused. “But you do—”

  Pru shot him a narrow glare. Colin subsided. “Yes, my treasure.” He turned to Aidan. “We’re under orders, old man. What are you waiting for?”

  Madeleine was less sure. “Do you know where he would go? He doesn’t really seem to know anyone but us anymore.”

  Aidan looked thoughtful. “Oh, I think I have an idea.”

  Jack ended up at Lementeur’s without really recalling the journey or his reason for coming. He simply entered the place and loomed darkly in the greeting area. Cabot took one look at Jack and rang for his employer.

  Button did not bother with niceties and teasing conversation. He took Jack back to his office and poured him a whiskey.

  Jack shook his head. “I do not drink.”

  Button pressed the glass into his hand. “This isn’t for pleasure. This is so you don’t crack right down the middle and fall into pieces on my floor.”

  Jack took the glass and tossed back the whiskey, simply to shut the smaller man up. Button removed the empty glass and refilled it.

  Jack drew back. “I dare not.”

  Button shot him a look. “This one’s for me.” The dressmaker tossed back the whiskey like a teamster, then wheezed for a moment. “That’s better,” he choked, then put the decanter away. Sitting down opposite Jack with a sigh, he put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.

  “Tell me.”

  Jack told him everything. It seemed Laurel was ri
ght. There was no shutting him up these days. “I let her go,” he said at last. “I couldn’t betray her again.”

  Button rubbed his face. “And little Melody? Will Laurel take her away?”

  “Oh yes,” Jack said faintly. “I rather think so.” The pain in his heart was the natural result of slicing it in half. In a just world, Laurel would have simply taken the whole thing with her, instead of leaving him with a twitching, gasping remnant.

  Button leaned back and let out a sigh. “All those happy couples. I suppose it was only a matter of time before I lost one. After all, it seems even I am not perfect.”

  Jack wasn’t really listening. He was too busy dying by inches. He was alone. Even now, he was sure that the unlocked attic door had led to Laurel announcing herself to the members of the club. After this, even his friends would cut him off. He certainly wouldn’t blame them for it. All the time he had spent running from the ties of friendship, how could he know how much it would hurt to break them?

  How he wished he could have simply continued on in his gray, numb world!

  Really? And missed out on Melody? Missed out on Laurel, warm and sweet in his arms, dancing and singing on the rooftop? Missed out on knowing real love at last?

  No. Every moment had been like a moment in heaven.

  However, the next forty or so years of his life were going to be pure unadulterated hell.

  When Colin and Aidan burst into Button’s office a few minutes later, Jack simply accepted that hell was going to begin a bit sooner than anticipated.

  Wilberforce found his youngest footman on the landing of the servants’ stair, gazing out at St. James Street through the small window set high in the wall.

  Bailiwick cast his superior an agonized glance. “She went.”

  Wilberforce knew that it wasn’t only the loss of his little Milady that saddened the young giant. Fiona had left this day as well.

  It was painful to watch such a big fellow cut off at the knees.

  Fiona had come to Wilberforce that morning. Her chin was high and her shoulders were back, but her face was pale and her eyes red from weeping. “I guess I ain’t for London Town,” she’d told him. “I be sorry to leave their ladyships, sir, but the city air just don’t agree with me.”

  She’d done a fine job in her week at Brown’s, so Wilberforce gave her every penny of her pay and a bonus besides. Now, looking at Bailiwick’s misery, he thought perhaps he ought not to have made it so easy for the girl to go.

  Fiona had stayed long enough to see little Melody off with her mother. Then she had taken a proper long time to pack her small valise and then she’d lingered in the kitchens saying farewell to all the fellows on the staff.

  All but one.

  Bailiwick had not been able to say good-bye.

  “Bailiwick!” Enough was enough. Wilberforce had coddled the lad for far too long. “The girl left because you practically threw her out the door.”

  Bailiwick turned his stunned gaze on Wilberforce. “Sir? But I—”

  “You turned her away.”

  Bailiwick wiped his nose on his liveried arm. Wilberforce chose not to wince.

  “I didn’t! I wanted her to see that I wasn’t like them blokes!”

  “She saw that unlike the others, you weren’t interested in her at all.”

  Bailiwick blinked. “But . . . I got her the job and all. I carried her parcels. I was goin’ to give her a gift!”

  “A romantic gift?”

  Bailiwick shrugged. “It were a set o’ silver brushes, for to use on the ladies. Like her tools.”

  Wilberforce considered the young man with no hint of his exasperation on his face. “Is that a romantic gift in your vast experience?”

  Bailiwick’s face crumpled. “Don’t have experience, sir. Never set my sights on a girl before.”

  Poor Bailiwick. Well versed in love and devotion of every kind but the romantic sort. Poor Fiona. Experienced in every way except in love itself. They were an impossible couple. They were made for each other.

  This would not do. The world was awry. Wilberforce prided himself on setting the world straight.

  “Why didn’t you ask her to marry you?”

  Bailiwick blinked. “Underfootmen don’t get married, sir. We have to live in-house. Ye can’t have a wife in-house!”

  Wilberforce gazed through the small window at the street outside. “This is a gentleman’s club with ladies and children in residence. And a kitten. And soon, I suspect, a puppy for young Master Evan.”

  With a slight lifting of his chin, Wilberforce repressed a single moment of longing for those peaceful, organized days of old. Those boring, dreary days that had threatened to last the rest of his natural life. “Bailiwick, I have come to understand that this is a special place in the world. Rules are what we make of them, here at Brown’s.”

  Bailiwick sniffled. “I don’t understand, sir.”

  Wilberforce turned to the vast young man. “Bailiwick, you have served our gentlemen and their families very well. You have shown dedication and bravery well beyond your terms of service. You have, in fact, done more to promote the well-being and happiness of our members than all the other footmen put together.”

  Bailiwick blinked under this barrage of praise. He looked a little faint, actually. “Sir!”

  Wilberforce held up a hand. “Do not interrupt. Since you are such a valuable employee and since it is integral to the smooth running of this establishment that you are satisfied with your station, it behooves me to raise that station to better implement our members’ needs and pleasure.”

  Bailiwick’s face was a priceless mixture of confusion and trust. He looked like a mystified hound. “I don’t know what that means, sir.”

  Wilberforce gazed at him for a long moment. “It means that you have been promoted to head footman and that you might indeed marry, as long as your bride is also an employee and lives in-house.” That should keep the other footmen from clamoring for equality.

  Wilberforce serenely folded his hands before him. “You may move into a proper chamber and there will be a raise in pay—” He held up a single finger. “A slight raise in pay.” There was no need to go mad, after all. One needed to keep a few carrots back, didn’t one?

  Bailiwick stood there for a long moment, looking like a great stunned ox. Then Wilberforce found himself swept up in a massive bear hug that actually lifted his feet from the ground. Before he could remonstrate with his giant employee, Bailiwick had plunked him back onto his footing and was galloping down the servants’ stairs.

  A bit of dust sifted down from the ceiling beams at the seismic shifting of the big man’s footfalls and landed on Wilberforce’s liveried shoulders. He brushed at it, frowning ever so slightly.

  Dust. In his club.

  The three men crowded into Button’s office made for little room to shift one’s elbow, but Button wasn’t about to give them their privacy. He did not intend to miss a single moment. He remained quietly, mostly, in his chair and let Aidan and Colin corner Jack in his. Brandy had been poured, but no one was interested in drowning their woes. No, today the woes were alive and kicking and putting on a most intriguing performance.

  Aidan leaned forward in his dainty chair, planting both elbows on the table as he glared at Jack. “You kidnapped Melody’s mother!”

  Colin nodded forcefully from his own elegant little perch. “And then you neglected to tell us about it!”

  “You two have your ladies. You didn’t need to worry yourselves about my problems.” Jack leaned back in his chair, the picture of defeat. “What does it matter now?”

  Colin looked at Aidan. “You hold him down. I’ll bite him.”

  Aidan snorted. “At this moment, you couldn’t pay me to lay a hand on him. Revolting coward.”

  That insult prompted a sign of life at last. Jack’s jaw visibly clenched and his voice dropped to a growl. “Blankenship, you’re not too big to knock down. I could use a fight right now.”

  Colin thre
w out his hands. “Then fight, by God! Fight for Miss Clarke, fight for Melody!”

  Jack ran a hand over his face. “I suppose I could find her.”

  Colin nodded enthusiastically.

  Jack looked up at him. “I suppose I could grab her hand and not let go.”

  Colin clapped his hands once. “That’s the ticket!”

  Jack tilted his head and gazed sourly at Colin. “I suppose I could lock her in a room until she agrees to marry me.”

  Colin deflated. “Oh. Well. No.”

  Aidan let out a breath. “So you did ask. You asked nicely, didn’t you? You know, with all the proper emotional intensity? That part is required, I learned.”

  Jack looked down at his hands. “I ripped myself open and spilled my guts at her feet.”

  “My, my.” Button fanned himself. “How romantic.”

  Colin rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “So she really doesn’t want to marry you.”

  Jack shot him a dark glance. “Can you blame her?”

  “Then we have to negotiate some other arrangement. Some way for us to keep Melody, or see her often . . . or at least once in a while . . .” Colin was pale with panic. He looked at Aidan. “Think of something, damn you!”

  Aidan let out a breath. “Jack, Colin is right. The three of us have considerable wealth and power. There has to be some way to coerce the lady into sharing custody. After all, you’d be in your rights to extract Melody from her care completely.”

  Colin sat upright. “Now, hold it right there—”

  Aidan waved a hand. “I didn’t mean we should, just that we could. Surely Miss Clarke is aware of that?”

  Colin considered the idea. “I shouldn’t like to make her afraid, but if we could simply make her come to her senses! Present her with some options! After all, Jack would be able to provide Melody with a brilliant life of privilege and high social standing.”

  Jack looked thoughtful. “I should like nothing better, but I don’t even know where Laurel has gone.”

  Aidan folded his arms and regarded his friend with fond exasperation. “Wilberforce sent her off in a hired carriage. To the docks. To a ship.”

  Jack looked up, hope sparking in his eyes. “Wilberforce wouldn’t put Laurel on just any ship.”