by Shana Galen
Marlowe barely looked up as she devoured a spoonful of cream, but Dane wiped his mouth with a napkin and took the card. “Thank you, Crawford.” He opened it and recognized Brook’s hand immediately.
D—
Unavoidably detained. Do not let Lady Elizabeth out of your sight until I return.
Yours,
Brook
Dane swore and, rising, threw his napkin on the chair. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, pacing the room behind Marlowe. She’d paid very little attention to anything besides her food for the last several moments, but now she turned slightly to keep a watchful eye on him. She was obviously used to protecting her back and didn’t like that he walked behind her. She was going to like being his guest even less.
Dane couldn’t say the missive from his brother surprised him. Last summer Brook had used his investigative skills to locate the lost brother of Viscount Chesham. The boy had been missing for a decade or two, and Brook had found him in an opium den in Bath, of all places. The story had been reported in all of the papers, and now Brook had his hands full with requests to locate missing persons. Undoubtedly, that was why Lord and Lady Lyndon had sought him out. Dane cut his eyes to Marlowe, who was watching him, mouth still full to bursting.
He should let the girl go and save her parents the heartache. He did not know the greater tragedy—if she proved to be their daughter or she proved not.
“Wot’s it?” she asked before she took another bite. Dane threw the note on the table before her, and she lifted it with her bacon-stained fingers and studied it. Upside down.
“You can’t read?” he said, taking it from her.
“Only a little.”
“Brook is detained—that means he won’t be home—”
“I know what it means,” she interrupted.
He gave her a dubious look. “And that means you cannot leave yet.”
“Oh, no!” She jumped to her feet, plucking a roll from her plate as she did so. “You promised I could leave after breakfast.”
“I made no such promise. I merely implied your departure might be possible.”
“Implied? Is that a fancy nob word for lie? You can’t keep me here, Lord Dane. I have rights!”
He laughed. “What do you know about rights?” He waved a hand. “Never mind. You don’t even understand that I’m trying to help you. If you are Lady Elizabeth, you’ll be rich. You could eat like this every day. You’d have parents, a home, a bed to sleep in. Don’t you want that?”
“No!” she said, putting her hands on her hips. Dane exercised extreme willpower and focused his gaze on her face, not the swell of her breasts he knew were now prominently on display. “I am trying to help you. That’s what you don’t understand!”
“Well,” a feminine voice interrupted, making them both turn. “This is unexpected.”
“Devil take it,” Dane muttered.
“Do not allow me to interrupt,” Susanna said, her brown eyes wide. “I had not expected to be entertained this morning. I rather thought a lecture waited for me, or I would have come down earlier.”
“Mother has retired to her room. You may speak with her there,” Dane told his sister.
“Why would I do that?” Her gaze rested firmly on Marlowe. “But I see why she retired. Dane, do not tell me you brought your paramour here.”
“No!” he said, sounding as appalled as he felt. How could anyone, even his innocent little sister, think this street urchin was his paramour? Come to think of it, how did his sister even know what a paramour was? “This is Brook’s project.”
“I do wish you’d stop referring to me as a project.”
“Oh, how rude of me,” Susanna said, coming forward. She gave a curtsy and said, “I am Lady Susanna. A pleasure to meet you.”
Marlowe looked at him as if to ask, is this actually happening? Dane ran a hand through his hair, tousling the careful style Crawford had spent so much time on. “It’s customary to introduce yourself,” he told the girl.
“I’m Marlowe,” she said, “and I’m leaving.” She grabbed another roll and stuffed it into her mouth.
“Oh, my, the poor dear is starving!” Susanna remarked. “Didn’t Brook feed her?”
“I don’t even know where Brook is,” Dane said, feeling unaccountably irritated that his sister assumed Marlowe was under Brook’s care. God knew he didn’t want her, but he should at least receive credit for his part.
“You mustn’t leave until after you’ve finished your breakfast,” Susanna said, taking a seat across from Marlowe. Marlowe glanced at him, then sat too. Dane noted her plate was almost empty, a fact which was, in his opinion, quite astounding, as he did not think two men could have finished all of that food so quickly.
“More?” he asked Marlowe.
She nodded, her mouth full and her gaze on Susanna.
The footman poured Susanna her requisite tea while Dane heaped more food on a plate for Marlowe. He set it before her, and Susanna said, “Would you mind making me a plate?”
Dane raised his brows. Susanna never ate breakfast. Correction: she rarely ate in front of their mother. Dane had long suspected the countess made her daughter too nervous to eat. He placed a scone and clotted cream on a plate and delivered it to her, then turned to the footman. “Anything for you, Lloyd?”
Lloyd reddened. “No, my lord.”
“Perhaps Crawford or Mrs. Barstowe might like some kippers.”
“Do not be ridiculous, Dane,” Susanna said. “The servants have already eaten.” She turned her attention back to Marlowe. “And so you are Brook’s paramour.”
“What’s a paramour?” Marlowe asked after swallowing. Her hand was beside her plate, and Dane slipped a fork into it. She looked at the implement curiously, then, holding it like a weapon, stabbed another piece of ham. “Is it like a bawd?”
“What is a bawd?”
Dane shook his head. “We are not having this conversation. Marlowe, I’d appreciate it if you did not teach my sister anything. Susanna, do cease asking questions.”
Susanna frowned at him. “I think I am entitled to ask who it is I am dining with.”
“Fine,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Brook thinks she’s the missing daughter of Lord and Lady Lyndon.”
“Really?” Susanna’s eyes widened, and she seemed to study Marlowe even more closely. “Hmm. She does have Lady Lyndon’s eyes and the Lyndon nose.”
Dane looked at Marlowe’s nose then closed his eyes. What was he doing? He didn’t care if she was Lady Elizabeth or not. He simply wanted her gone.
“Has Brook gone to fetch the Lyndons?”
“I don’t know where he is.” He tossed the note toward her, and Susanna read it quickly. She looked up at Marlowe. “It appears you are to be our guest for a little while longer.”
“Guest!” Marlowe said, almost choking on her third cup of chocolate. “I’m a prisoner. Your brothers abducted me last night and have been holding me here against my will!”
Susanna’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Dane had never seen them so large. She turned to stare at Dane. “Is this true?”
Dane tried to reply, and then sputtered, “When you put it that way, it sounds horrid.”
“It was horrid!” Marlowe said.
He rounded on her. “I gave you the bed!”
Susanna inhaled sharply. “She slept in your bed?”
Dane held his hands up. “Where else was I to put her? Besides, it was perfectly”—well, somewhat—“innocent. I slept on the floor.”
“In front of the door, so I could not escape.”
“Dane!”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I was only doing as Brook asked. He said to keep her here until he returned.”
“But you cannot keep a person here against her will.”
“Exactly!” Marlowe said, po
inting her fork at him. Dane scowled, reached down, and swiped the plate away from her.
“No more for you. Besides, she’s not really a person—”
Marlowe jumped to her feet. “Why, you bloody cockchafer! How dare—”
Dane pulled her toward him and covered her mouth. “Ow!” He was bitten for his pains, but at least he stopped the curses. Susanna blinked owlishly at them from across the table.
“Oh my,” she said, her face turning red.
“I’m trying to help”—he moved his foot to avoid having his toe smashed and struggled to keep her in his grip—“the girl, but she doesn’t think she’s really Lady Elizabeth.”
“But Brook does?” Susanna asked over the girl’s howling.
“Yes. God knows why. I’m putting my money on the spawn of Satan. Ow!” He thrust her away before she could claw him again. He looked down at the scratches on his hand. “I think you drew blood.”
“Good.”
“That’s it!” He grabbed for her, but she jumped out of his reach, and his fist closed on air. “I have endured enough,” he said, stalking after her. But she was quick, darting around chairs and even under the table to escape him.
“Dane,” Susanna cried. “Dane!” She caught his coat and shook him. “Step away before you do something you will regret.”
“The only thing I regret is not having my hands about her throat right now.”
“Dane.” Susanna pushed him back, and he allowed himself to be thrust against the windows. How he wished he could escape through one of them, but he couldn’t leave Marlowe with his sister. He needed Brook to take the little hellion away. Then everything could return to the way it had been.
Dull and tedious—no! Civil. Dignified. Comfortable.
“Will you give me leave to speak to her for a few minutes? Perhaps if we two chat alone—”
“Absolutely not. I will not leave you alone with her. She cannot be trusted.”
Susanna sighed. “Very well, but you must promise not to interrupt.”
He grunted. That was the best he could do. Susanna gave him a warning look and crossed to Marlowe, who was holding one of the chairs by the back and looking like she might use it as a weapon at the very first opportunity.
“Now, Marlowe,” Susanna said, going around the table and approaching her. Susanna was dressed in a blue gown the color of sapphires. Her hair had been pinned up in a thick mass on the back of her head. She was taller than Marlowe, and though she was probably slightly younger, she looked quite a bit older when she stood beside the chit. She looked vastly more feminine and elegant. Susanna was a true lady, possessing beauty and poise and grace. Marlowe was…well, best not to think of what she was. Her boys’ clothing should have hidden those lush curves, but they seemed only to accentuate them. Dane turned and looked out the window at the carriages driving by and the flowers blooming in the spring sunshine. A brisk walk would be perfect right now, and he could be at his club in a quarter of an hour. That would be even more perfect.
“Do sit, dear,” his sister said. “I promise I will not hurt you.”
Dane chuckled. As though anyone would worry his sister might be a danger.
“I’m not your dear,” Marlowe said. Dane turned with a warning look and noted she’d taken a seat in the chair she’d been clutching.
“I’m sorry. You said your name was Miss Marlowe.”
“I said Marlowe. No miss.”
Susanna shook her head. “Oh, but I cannot call you Marlowe. That’s not proper, as we’ve only just met.”
Marlowe raised a brow. “You think I care about what’s proper?”
“I think you should, if you’re to meet Lord and Lady Lyndon soon. They are very nice people, but they are also proper people.”
“I don’t want to meet them rich nobs. I want to go home.”
Susanna cocked her head and said simply, “Where is home?”
“Seven Dials. My gang and me live in a flash ken there. Best gang in London, if you ask me.”
“And do you have parents there?”
Dane wondered why he had not asked these questions. Did she have parents? What was a flash ken?
Marlowe laughed. “No, I don’t have parents. I have Satin. He’s the arch rogue. He keeps all the cubs in line, and if I don’t get back, he’s going to come after me.”
“Will you be in trouble for being gone this long?”
Marlowe’s expression changed. For the first time, Dane saw fear in her eyes. “I can look out for myself.”
“I have no doubt of that, but my point is that if you are already in trouble, why not stay a little longer and meet Lord and Lady Lyndon? Even if this Satin realizes you are here, we won’t allow him to see you or speak to you. The footmen can keep him out. Isn’t that right, Lloyd?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“You see?” Susanna said, gesturing to the head footman. “The servants will protect you. If Satin comes here, Crawford will say he has never heard of you and will not allow this Satin inside.”
Dane looked at Marlowe for an argument, but for once she was silent. She looked as though she might be considering. Dane would have to move Susanna up in his estimation.
“Do you not want to meet Lord and Lady Lyndon?”
Marlowe shrugged.
“Can you be certain they are not your parents? Can you be certain you are not Lady Elizabeth?”
Marlowe looked up, and her expression was softer than Dane had seen it. She almost looked…vulnerable. She looked terribly beautiful. Dane could not look away, and he held his breath, waiting for her answer.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not certain. I…” She shook her head, unwilling to share whatever it was she knew of who she might be.
“Then why not at least meet the Lyndons? Can you imagine how long they have waited for this day? Can you imagine how happy they will be to meet the little girl they lost all those years before? I do not know the Lyndons well, but I have heard that both the marchioness and the marquess were devastated when their daughter was abducted. They never stopped searching for her. The loss turned Lady Lyndon’s hair white, and some thought she would die from grief. She did not seem to want to continue living.”
Marlowe looked down, her fingers twined, saying nothing. She looked so small in the chair, so young. Dane wanted to go to her and hold her, which was ridiculous.
“Can you deny them this chance to meet their daughter, their only child?”
Marlowe looked up, her eyes bright and suspiciously red. Had she been crying? “But don’t you see, that’s the reason I shouldn’t meet them. Look at me.” She gestured to her clothing, but Dane had the sense she was gesturing to her entire being. “They won’t want the likes of me as their daughter.”
“Of course they will. Do you think they care how you speak or dress? You are their child.”
But Dane understood what Marlowe was saying. He did not know the Lyndons either, but unless they were truly amazing people, Marlowe would not be at all who they wanted to claim as a daughter. He wanted to tell Susanna not to give Marlowe false hope, but he wanted Susanna to be right more than anything else. Damn him if he didn’t like a happy ending as much as the next person.
Not to mention, either way, she wasn’t leaving until Brook returned. If warm feelings about a reunion with her long-lost parents kept her at Derring House, then so be it. He would play along.
“But look at me,” Marlowe said. “I don’t talk like you or dress like you or do that bending at the knee thing.”
“Is that all?” Susanna asked. “I can fix that. Your speech is not so bad. One reason I am convinced you are Lady Elizabeth is because at times I hear the refined accent in your speech. We need only draw it out further. You can borrow any of my dresses. I have far too many, and I can teach you to curtsy. I can teach you all the rules. Oh, Miss Marlowe!” Susanna
clasped the girl’s hands in hers. “This will be fun.”
Without waiting for an answer, Susanna rose and rushed to the door. She flung it open and said, “Where is Maggie? Where is my lady’s maid? Fetch her, will you, Nathaniel?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Still in the dining room, Marlowe looked at Dane. He gave her a slow smile. “Now you’ve done it.”
Oh, this ought to be thoroughly diverting.
Six
He was right. Marlowe had done it. She stood in Lady Susanna’s frilly pink-and-white bedchamber as Dane’s sister directed her servants to pull dress after dress after dress from her dressing room. Marlowe looked about curiously. The room was smaller than Dane’s and much, much more feminine. Marlowe had never seen anything so feminine. The curtains were edged with lace, the walls were the palest pink, and the girl’s dressing table was so dainty Marlowe was afraid if she leaned on it, it would topple over.
The bed had a white counterpane and fluffy pillows scattered about, now all but hidden under the growing pile of gowns. Who ever heard of white bedclothes? They would be soiled in a matter of moments in Seven Dials. On the little table beside the bed, three books had been stacked. Three. Marlowe had never seen so many books in one person’s possession. She knew books were valuable to those who could read them. Sometimes the cubs came home with a few books filched during one of the better-rackets. Satin always sold them for a tidy sum.
Curious, Marlowe fingered one of the books, opening the cover and looking at the letters on the page. She could not make out all the words, but she recognized the and of. One of the servants made a tsking sound, and Marlowe closed the book, glancing at the mountain of dresses now teetering on the bed. She waved her hands. “Stop! I only need one dress.”
Lady Susanna poked her head from the dressing room. “Nonsense. You need at least three a day. A morning dress, a dinner dress, a—”
“Three?” She began to back toward the door. “I’d spend half my day changing clothes.”