Devon shut the door behind them, dragged the stool over to the hearth and began to build a fire. “Sit here. I’ll have the fire going as quick as you please.”
Finny sat, her limbs shaking so much from the cold she doubted she could have stood very long anyway. With the competence of someone who had done it many times before, Devon build a fire of kindling and logs and then set the flint hanging by the flu to it. It took a couple strikes to spark before he blew on the ember and coaxed it into a hungry flame. He looked at the rafters, reached out and pulled one of the dried plants hanging there down and sniffed it. “Mint. It’s been here a long time but still smells good.” After grabbing the pot from the hook he crossed to the door, opened it and dipped it in the barrel which served to collect the rainwater for the previous tenant. He shut the door and returned the half full pot to the hook. “Some mint tea will warm us up.”
Finny huddled as close to the fire as she could and stared into the flames.
“Why were you running away?”
Not wanting to talk to him she shrugged.
“Come on, there must be a reason.”
“You don’t want me. Ye never will. Ye jus’ want to get rid of me to marry some fancy lady. I heard ye tellin’ the butler. I’m nothin’ but Whitechapel trash. I tried to be a fancy lady like ye wanted.” She rolled her eyes. “Some fancy lady Josephine May Donelly turned out to be, eh? I ain’t never gonna—”
“What did you say?” Devon interrupted.
“I said some fancy lady I turned out t’be—”
“Did you say Lady Josephine May Donelly?”
She cast him a sour look. He stared at her open mouthed. “Wot—I mean, what?”
“Your name.”
“What about it?” She shrugged. “Josephine May Donelly is my birthed name, but everyone calls me Finny.” She sighed. “I even signed all my letters to you all fancy like that.”
Devon started chuckling, which soon turned into loud guffaws of laughter.
“Ye don’t need to rub it in.”
“No,” Devon gasped trying to get a hold of himself. “Oh this is rich!” He slapped his knee and doubled over.
“Now see here you, you horse plop—”
“Finny,” Devon chortled. “Oh, bloody hell, don’t you see? Ah, I am certainly horse manure.”
Disgusted she stood to leave. “I’m leavin’ now.”
“Wait.” He placed his hand on her arm and stifled his glee. “Finny, Josephine May Donelly, don’t you see? You are the mysterious lady I have been writing to all this time. You are the woman I fell in love with and planned to marry.”
Puzzled she stared at him. “But, ye’re already married to me.”
“I know. That is the funny part. Here I was longing for this mysterious and captivating young woman who wrote me all those letters while I was at sea, and she was you all along.”
“Oh.” Finny put a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Fancy that.”
Devon smiled. “Yes, fancy that.” He crossed to a shelf and took down two old tin cups. After ladling some of the hot mint tea into them he passed her one. “I have no honey to sweeten it but at least it is hot.”
Their fingers brushed when she took it and she could not help but smile. What started out to be a rough day had turned out fine indeed.
He crossed the room, pulled the tattered straw tick from the cot and dragged it over by the fire. After a quick perusal of the little cottage, he yanked down the burlap curtains. “These will have to do for blankets I’m afraid. Remove your clothes and climb onto the tick.”
“Wot?” Finny scrambled to her feet and crossed her arms. “You want me t’git bare as a born babe?”
“Finny, it is the best way to get warm and you need to dry your clothes.” He snickered. “Besides, I’ve already seen you naked twice, and we are married.”
“Oh.” Her face heated. “Right … turn around.”
Chuckling, he snatched up the stool and placed it by the door. With a grin over his shoulder he sat and then turned to stare at the wall. “This reminds me of something….”
“Don’t remind me,” Finny groused with a grimace.
“Why not? You have to admit it was pretty comical.”
She snorted. “Fer—for you maybe. Uh … do I have to take all my clothes off?”
“Yes, all your clothes, Finny.”
“I can’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her as she stood naked except for her undergarments and corset. “Why?”
Her face heated. “I can’t git this corset thing off.”
A wry grin rode his lips as he stood and crossed to her. “Turn around.” When she obliged he went to work untying and unhooking the strings that cinched in her waist. “I don’t know why you wear one of these torture devices.”
“The dressmaker said I must.”
“One with a waist so tiny doesn’t need one.”
Finny remained silent as she pondered his claim. Leaving off the restrictive article would make things much simpler and more comfortable. “Would you like me to leave it off?”
His fingers brushing the skin of her back stilled. “Yes, I would like that, Finny.”
When the corset sagged she caught it against her chest and turned to face him. His blue eyes darkened to near black as his gaze dropped to her chest where the edge of the material barely covered her. “Do you….” she trailed off, unsure of how to ask what she desperately wanted to know.
His eyes returned to hers. “Do I what?”
She licked her lips and he followed suit with his gaze locked on her mouth. “Do you … like me? I mean … am I, pleasing?”
He cracked a slight smile. “Why Finny, are you trying to seduce me?”
Biting her lip, she shrugged and looked down at her bare toes.
Raising her chin with the fingers of his right hand he murmured. “Yes, Josephine May Donelly, you please me very much.”
Face aflame she met his hungry gaze. “Really?”
“Really. Shall I make love to you to prove it?”
Breathless with anticipation and anxious to please him she nodded.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Feeling no worse for wear after their night in the cabin, Finny snuggled under the covers and sipped her cup of tea. Devon loved her. She had done what she had set out to do and accomplished the feat without even knowing it, or him either. At the knock on the door she called an absentminded, “Enter.”
“Miss?” Her maid entered the room. “A letter’s been delivered for you.”
“For me?” Curious Finny set down the cup and took the envelope. The crest was a simple “D” which she didn’t recognize. With a frown she opened it.
Finny,
I found your mother. You must return to London immediately as she is very ill and I fear will not last long. It would be wise to come alone and not tell Devon for surely he will forbid you to linger in the slums, afraid you might sully his good name.
Yours, Lady Adele Dowell
Stunned, Finny let the letter slip through her fingers and flutter to the bed covers. My ma. How did the dowager manage to find her? All manner of emotions coursed through her veins: joy at the idea of finally finding the mother lost to her all those years ago, to anger for the one who abandoned her and never looked back. Scrambling from the bed, she rushed past the startled maid and out of the room. Halfway down the stairs en route to Devon’s study she stopped herself. Was the dowager right? Would Devon forbid her to go see her mother? Would it remind him of how soiled she was, the slum she came from? She worked so hard to become a fine lady. Would he change his mind about loving her if reminded of her roots? Confused and afraid, she returned to her room. Perhaps it was better if she went on her own in secret as the dowager suggested.
Finny approached the maid. “How would one get back to London if they were in a hurry?”
The maid appeared flustered for a moment. “The family carriage, miss.”
“But, if you couldn’t take y
our own carriage?”
“The mail coach, miss. It arrives on this day each week and leaves the next morning at the crack of dawn from the village square. Is there a message you need delivered to London?”
“No, thank you. You may leave me for the night.”
The maid nodded, took the tea tray and left.
Finny rummaged through the closet for a pair of sturdy walking boots, a warm traveling dress and the handful of coin left over from her last shopping trip. After laying the items out on the foot of the bed she climbed back in beneath the covers to wait for the house to retire for the night so she could slip away. By the time Devon discovered she was gone and tracked her down she would have had her chance to see her mother and be back.
* * *
“My lord?”
Devon looked up from his morning paper at the maid, who stood wringing her hands in the dining room doorway. “What is it, Mary?”
“I went to wake Lady Dowell, my lord, but she’s not there.”
Devon frowned and set down the paper. “Perhaps she has slipped out to the stables to see Percy. She was concerned he would get sick after fording the river. Send George to see.”
“Yes, my lord.” The maid hesitated. “It’s just that she did ask about the mail coach last eve.”
“The mail coach? Whatever for?”
The maid glanced over her shoulder. “A letter arrived for her last eve and she seemed very upset. She asked how she could get back to London. I suggested the mail coach if she didn’t want to take the family carriage, my lord. I fear I over stepped my bounds….” She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Who was the letter from?” Devon wondered out loud.
“I’ve no idea, my lord, I found the ashes in the fire grate this morning.”
Alarm forced Devon from his chair. Something or someone had forced Finny to return to London and she obviously didn’t want him to know about it. “When does the mail coach leave?”
“It left four hours ago, my lord, bound for London.”
“Send George to have my gelding saddled immediately.” Devon brushed past the maid and hurried up stairs to change into riding attire.
* * *
“Are you sure this is the place?” Finny asked when the dowager’s coach pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking water front storeroom.
“Do you want to see the woman who spawned you or not, girl?” the dowager snarled.
Finny looked away and stepped out of the carriage when the footman came around to open the door.
The dowager exited behind her. “Rodney, please wait here. I shall only be a few moments.”
Finny was about to protest the shortness of the visit, but held her tongue. Everything she said or did irritated the older woman as it was. Questions would only earn her more tart replies and insults. She followed as the dowager stalked to the door and rapped on it. After a moment the door opened and a scruffy looking man peered out. “I’ve brought the girl.”
The man squinted at Finny and then stepped back, opening the door wide.
The dowager hurried inside and Finny followed suit. The old storehouse was empty except for a couple of broken crates, dust and cobwebs. The man shut the door and motioned for them to follow. At the back of the building they came to a door. Upon opening it the man and the dowager stepped back.
Finny peered inside, unease making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The room was dark, almost pitch black except for the little rectangle of light from the door. Against the far wall she could just make out the outline of a cot with a large lump lying on it. “Mama?”
“Don’t just stand there you ninny, I haven’t got all day to humor your whims.” The dowager gave her a shove.
Finny stumbled inside and then the door slammed shut behind her, leaving her in total darkness. “Wait, I can’t see. I need a candle.”
“You won’t need to see where you are going, you noddy little wench,” the dowager cackled from the other side of the door. She spoke to the man. “Here is the coin. See the chit disappears permanently.”
“How’ll ye like it done?” the man asked.
“I don’t care, drown the little mongrel like a dog. It matters not as long as I never lay eyes on her again.”
Finny banged on the door with both fists. “Let me out! Why are you doing this?”
“As if I would let some slum whore tarnish my dead husband’s name and bloodline. Could you image your tainted blood mixing with the blue blood of the Dowell name? I have waited a long year to be rid of you, but you thought to spoil my plans and tried to seduce my poor stepson. Once you are gone I will salvage the family name and see he weds a nice, well-bred young lady.”
Footsteps moved away from the door and Finny pounded on it again. “Le’me out! You can’t do this!” When no one answered she kept pounding until her fists were raw and full of splinters. Finally she turned and groped her way to the cot in the back. “Mama?” When she received no answer, she reached out a hand to touch the lump. A wad of balled-up cloth met her searching fingers, not a human form. The dowager lied. Despair made Finny sink down against the cot. Cradling her head in her hands she wept, for her mother, herself and her stupidity.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Devon stalked into the parlor of the London townhouse. “Stepmother, have you seen Finny?”
His stepmother pressed her lips into a disapproving line and set down her tea cup. “Honestly, Devon, whatever happened to ‘good day, stepmother, how are you?’ I think your manners have taken a turn for the worst these days.”
With a growl he crossed the room. “Have you or have you not seen my wife?”
She sighed. “No, I have not seen that, that unwashed wench you call a wife.”
He raised a brow. “Now whose manners are lacking, stepmother?”
“Oh!” With a disgruntled look she picked up her embroidery. “Just how is it one manages to misplace his wife?”
“I didn’t misplace her, she ran away.”
A tiny snort was her reply.
“You are sure you haven’t seen Finny?”
“For God’s sake, Devon, I would tell you if I had. Really,” she rolled her eyes, “I swear I didn’t kidnap her and sell her to the gypsies.”
Devon grimaced. It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind on the way to London. He pushed the idea aside. “I’m sorry, stepmother. I have no idea where she might have gone. We … well we were getting along so well. You see it turns out Finny was the Lady Josephine I had fallen in love with while at sea.”
Her eyes grew round. “I beg your pardon?”
“Finny is Lady Josephine May Donelly.”
“Impossible. What kind of foolery has she tried to pull?”
“It is a long story.” Devon snatched up a tea biscuit. “I’ve no time to explain it now. I need to find Finny. I am worried something might have happened to her.”
* * *
Finny swiped away her tears and made her way back to the door. Pressing her ear against it she strained to catch any sound beyond.
“Eh, Rufus, ye in ’ere?”
“Aye, I’m ’ere.”
Finny pounded on the door. “Help, please let me out.”
“Is that her?”
“Aye.”
“Did the dowager leave the coin?”
“Eh, but I’ve no stomach for it.”
“Well, we ’ave to do somethin’”
“What do you suggest? I’ll not be the one to hold the wench under water. And if we let ’er go, the bobbies will track us down. B’sides, I already took the coin.”
“We could jus’ leave ’er ’ere.”
“And risk someone findin’ ’er? Naw.”
“Hey, Rufus, I got an idea. How ’bout takin’ ’er up north to the coal mines?”
“The coal mines, eh?”
“Aye, Decker’ll take ’er, he won’t pay no mind to where she’s from, and she won’t be comin’ back ifn’ she’s a comely lass.”
“Eh, she’s a comely one, I’ll say, but fer all her pretty manners I’d say jus’ a shined up half penny.”
“Well, get ’er and we best be on our way durin’ the night.”
Finny backed up as the latch clicked and the door swung open.
Rufus peered in at her. “You best be comin’ willin’ like ifn’ you know what’s best fer ye.”
Though she considered making a break for it, Finny knew it was best to bide her time. She stepped from the dark room blinking at the light from the lantern his partner held. Rufus grasped her arm and propelled her through the warehouse.
“Ye keep yer gob shut ifn’ you wanna live this night.”
“I heard you say you didn’t have the guts to do away with me.”
He snorted. “Aye, but Jeb ’ere don’t mind slittin’ yer purdy throat once he’s had his fill of ye.”
Finny swallowed and glanced behind at Jeb. He sneered. Shivering, she returned her gaze to the uneven floor boards beneath her feet. There was no doubt in her mind Jeb wouldn’t hesitate to do what he’d been paid to. As they stepped out onto the dark street she searched for help and gathered her courage. A hackney turned the corner and rumbled toward them. With a shriek she flung herself into the back of Rufus’ legs. Howling in indignation, he toppled to the cobblestones. Before he could gather his wits, she scrambled to her feet, but not before Jeb got a hold on the puffed sleeve on her dress. When he yanked her backward, the fragile muslin rent. He stumbled back and Finny saw her opportunity to bolt. Screeching, she made a mad dash for the hackney.
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