A Lady's Addiction (Honor Prevails Book 1)

by Angelina Jameson

  “Change of plans,” he called to the driver. “Please take me to the sweet shop near Hatchard’s.”

  The owner of the shop had a comely daughter who often complained about the rats in the alleyway behind the building. Rat poison would no doubt be somewhere on the premises. It was time to send a truly unique confection to Lady Millicent Cameron.

  * * * * *

  “Mr. Maitlin is in the study, my lady,” the lady’s maid whispered to Millicent. “When I took your breakfast tray downstairs, he asked me if you planned on leaving your room today.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Jane, there’s no need to whisper when we’re alone.”

  If the girl hadn’t been an artist with hair, she’d have fired the maid long before now. It was obvious Jane had not understood Devlyn’s sarcasm. Millicent was quite adept at feigning ignorance when necessary. She knew Jane’s lack of intelligence wasn’t a performance.

  “You could slip down the servant’s stairs and go outside through the kitchen,” the girl said.

  Millicent shook her head. “The man will undoubtedly have someone posted on the back stairs. I will have to speak with the tyrant.”

  Her visiting dress looked demure enough to please her stuffy relative. She knew she looked her best thanks to Jane’s skilled hands and the fact gave her some little courage. Had her brother-in-law found out about the note she’d sent to Michael?

  “After I speak with Mr. Maitlin I have a round of calls to make. This evening is Lady Simpson’s ball. I wish to wear the periwinkle gown.”

  “Yes, my lady, I’ll air it out.”

  Devlyn met Millicent at the foot of the main staircase.

  “Your spies alerted you to my leaving the house, did they?” she asked, not bothering to keep the irritation from her voice.

  “Your loud grousing to the footman who passed you on the stairs was enough of a warning you were on your way down,” the insufferable man replied. “I need to speak with you in the study.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “I will carry you in there and restrain you if need be.”

  She stomped down the corridor.

  “Yes?” she asked with as bored a tone as she could muster after collapsing inelegantly on a stuffed chair in the study.

  “I want you to tell me everything you know about Franco.” Her brother-in-law took a seat facing her. She gleefully noted Devlyn chose a high-backed and extremely uncomfortable chair. “First of all, what is his real name?”

  “Do you know what he will do to me if I tell you that information?” she asked, for a moment considering the danger she could be in. Michael was her first love and her heart couldn’t believe he would hurt her. Devlyn didn’t know such a thing of course.

  “I do know he is well aware I recognize what he’s up to and I would question you.” He paused. “Do you think he won’t see you as a liability?”

  She remained silent as memories of the day Michael suggested she marry came to mind. He had left Epping for London not two weeks before and she had missed him desperately. Growing up near each other in the country, he’d been her friend before the wonderful day he became her lover. She’d surprised him with a visit to his family’s home on Guilford Street.

  Her maid had been sent to the kitchen. Michael’s mother was still abed. Millicent awaited her lover in the drawing room without a chaperone. She’d hoped to seduce him, but his swift greeting was followed by the suggestion she find a husband. He’d also been careful to leave the door to the drawing room wide open.

  “It will benefit us both,” he’d said.

  She had been stunned by his words. She’d thought herself in love, had been excited to tell him she was with child. She secretly hoped he would propose to her.

  “You want me to marry someone else?”

  “It’s a wonderful idea.” Michael shrugged. “You have a large dowry. Any society matron would love the daughter of a duke in the family. I myself have no money or prospects. Your father would never consent to a match between us. After you marry you could set me up as it were.”

  “Set you up?” she’d asked, confused by his use of the phrase.

  “Give me a little blunt to get myself ahead in the world.” He must have noticed her stunned expression. He patted her shoulder and said, “We could still see each other now and again. Married women are allowed a bit of freedom once an heir has been produced.”

  She’d felt cold inside. The man she was in love with spoke serenely of her marrying another man. She knew then the news of her pregnancy wouldn’t matter to him.

  “I’m not feeling very well.” It was the truth. “I need time to think about your suggestion.”

  Michael agreed. She gathered up her maid and left the house as quickly as she could. In the carriage she’d been violently ill, not sure if her nausea was due to the babe or the shock she’d just gone through.

  There had been no choice for her. Several men in the ton had attempted to court her and now she must encourage one of them. At numerous social events Lady Cameron had been very vocal about her desire to see her eldest son married.

  To her dismay, her initial attempts at seduction had been performed on the wrong brother. Devlyn Maitlin was a mere mister. The next week she attended a house party where Lord David Cameron was in attendance. It had been difficult to get him to take her supposed virginity. She’d declared herself passionately in love with him and he eventually succumbed to her wiles. Her future husband gave the impression he was content to marry merely to please his mother and secure an heir.

  When she finally broke down and told Michael she was with child all he said was, “As long as Cameron thinks the babe is his everything will be fine. Lucky thing he agreed to a quick wedding.”

  Her last hope Michael would marry her himself was doused on her wedding day. She and Cameron had a fortnight-long honeymoon at the estate in Kent as her husband wanted to show her what he considered to be the jewel of his estates. She’d hated the country. On her return, a missive from Michael awaited her. Her former lover demanded money, or he would have a conversation with her new husband.

  “Millicent!” Devlyn’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Do you believe Franco is dangerous?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, remembering his anger once she’d grown tired of selling her jewels to pay him. “Michael can be very dangerous.” But never to me.

  “Michael?” he asked.

  She blinked.

  “Yes, Michael,” she said, her voice firm.

  The more she thought about it, the more she knew her lover wouldn’t harm her. Maybe Devlyn’s interference would help Michael see he needed to find another line of work. “His name is Michael Bradley. His brother is a baron. I have no idea where he lives at present. He did have rooms in St. James’s for a time.”

  “Thank you for telling me his real name. Don’t go out alone,” Devlyn said to her as he rose from his chair.

  She heard her brother-in-law as if from a distance. Doubt had started to creep in. She’d introduced ‘Franco’ to Cecily to protect herself. Cecily didn’t know Franco’s real name which left only one person Michael would take his anger out on if he were found out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “The name of the gypsy was Maggie,” Lady Campbell said to the cluster of people around her.

  Anna stood at the edge of the group occupied with discussing the novel Waverly and until now hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation.

  “I believe the name of the gypsy was Meg Merrilies,” she replied.

  Lady Campbell’s face turned a shade of violet. “I have a volume from the first printing at home and I assure you the gypsy is named Maggie.”

  “Then you would know Meg’s ultimate fate,” she countered.

  There ensued a tense silence in the group after her comment. Anna doubted the woman had read the novel at all. She was chagrined at her petty-mindedness. What harm if Lady Campbell wanted to impress the other attendees of the rout with being well rea
d?

  “She is imprisoned!” the viscountess replied, her tone triumphant.

  Anna nodded and turned to leave the group. She refrained from informing Lady Campbell that Meg had been mortally wounded. What purpose to needle the other woman? This was the world she lived in. How silly and contrived it all seemed to her. She wanted more than this constant round of entertainments. Somewhere between her recent existence as a hermit and her present life amid the social whirl of London she would find her place.

  Although she nursed a glass of lemonade, she’d been tempted by the peach ratafia on the refreshment table. Numerous gentlemen had offered to fetch a glass of wine or champagne for her. She’d declined, using the excuse of an unsettled stomach to explain her desire to avoid alcohol. If she couldn’t attend events where alcohol was present, she might have little luck in finding a husband. She needed to think about something other than the glasses of spirits surrounding her.

  It felt very strange to be in society without Cecily. Although she had told the other woman she would contact her, she hadn’t yet done so. Attending the rout alone was a small victory. Every time she resisted the urge to drink alcohol was another success.

  The owner of Clearwater House, Lord Gainsley, had recently wed a wealthy heiress from America. She supposed many in attendance this evening were there to get a glimpse of the newest member of society. She had been delighted to meet the new viscountess. The woman was her own age. During their short conversation she discovered they both had an affinity for long walks. Her hostess extended an invitation to tea for the following week and Anna cheerfully accepted.

  By anyone’s account the rout was a success. She’d had ample opportunity to converse with gentlemen about art and literature and the buffet was divine. Lobster patties were a particular favorite of hers. Her appetite had returned once she’d quit drinking. Suddenly everything in life, including food, held more appeal.

  She realized she had never worried very much about her appearance after her wedding to Danforth. Attracting her husband’s attention had quickly become something she strived not to accomplish. Cecily had an eye for fashion and made sure Anna visited the correct shops and the best dressmakers. Anna’s shopping excursion earlier in the day had been an exercise to prove to herself she could be comfortable in public without a servant in attendance. Only now that she was out on the hunt for a husband did she pay close attention to the way she looked. She told herself her recent concern with her appearance had nothing to do with the hope she would see Devlyn at the entertainments she attended.

  At every social occasion she noticed the women of society whisper less and less behind their fans. Her campaign to captivate the men of the ton had been a success. She hoped society would soon begin to wonder if her unpleasant husband had merely made up the negative things he said about her. A cynical voice inside her head wondered if the Stafford fortune and her brother-in-law’s bachelor status might also have helped smooth her way back into polite society.

  “You are a devotee of Walter Scott?” a male voice asked from beside her.

  She hadn’t noticed Lord Drake at the rout. A widower and very handsome man, he was from all accounts eager to remarry. He had a young daughter. She hadn’t decided if the little girl was a plus or a negative on the marriage mart. She had never given much thought to raising someone else’s child.

  “Now, now, Lord Drake, the author desires to remain anonymous.”

  “Yes of course, Lady Stafford.” When Drake smiled at her she saw sincere interest in his eyes. “Did you enjoy the novel?”

  “Reading the local dialect was indeed a treat. I haven’t travelled very far and would love to see Scotland someday.”

  “Maybe an excursion to Scotland lies in your future,” he replied in an intimate voice.

  Oh my, she thought, he’s flirting with me. Although she was flattered, she wasn’t in the least bit interested in the viscount as a man. Could she endure relations with him? Although she did not desire Lord Drake, she had finally found a man other than Devlyn who didn’t cause her stomach to clench at the thought of intimacy with him.

  Before her conversation with Lord Drake she’d concluded her appearance at Clearwater House this evening had been an exercise in futility. It sounded dramatic, but she feared Devlyn might well be the only man in the world she would ever desire.

  “Scotland is a beautiful and mysterious place.”

  The man of her thoughts, Devlyn Maitlin, now stood beside her impeccably turned out in evening dress. She wondered if it was her imagination that Devlyn looked none too pleased at the sight of her conversing with Lord Drake. The two men exchanged assessing looks.

  “Mr. Maitlin,” Drake said. His greeting held little welcome.

  “Good evening Lady Stafford, Lord Drake,” Devlyn replied. The severe expression on his face lightened when he looked at her. “Scotland has breathtaking scenery. Have you been there, Drake?”

  Laughter bubbled up inside of her and she bit her lip to keep from making an inappropriate sound. Her position as prized bone between the two men should have irritated her.

  “I hope to journey there in the future,” the widower replied with a pointed look at Anna.

  “You should take your daughter for a visit. Your late wife’s people are from Scotland, are they not?”

  “Yes,” the other man replied. “Excuse me, Lady Stafford, Maitlin. I believe I see a gentleman across the room I need to speak with.”

  Anna watched Drake’s hasty retreat. The viscount’s face had turned red. She asked the gentleman beside her, “Why were you pestering the poor man, pray tell?”

  “It is well known Lord Drake is a fortune-hunter. When his sire passes, he will inherit an earldom but very little else. The man married young to help with the family debt. No wedding trip and he blew through his wife’s money. The unfortunate woman died in childbirth and now he is free to find an even wealthier woman to marry.”

  The thought that Devlyn could be jealous of her intimate conversation with Lord Drake ran through her mind. The idea was absurd. They had been lovers, nothing more. He knew there could be no future between them.

  Anna met Devlyn’s unwavering gaze. Her moods changed quickly of late and she was again vexed with the man who captivated her every thought. She refrained from pointing out that Lord Drake had fathered a child, one of her requirements in a mate. Her lifted brows must have conveyed some of her thoughts as Devlyn’s jaw hardened.

  “Dressed for the hunt?” His voice was rough.

  He looked over her midnight blue evening dress and upswept hair. His hot gaze settled on her cleavage. She could feel her breasts swell inside the tight bodice.

  “And if I am?” Her breathing quickened. She recognized the hungry look on his face. Devlyn wanted her.

  “You will be disappointed my dear.”

  “Will I?” she queried, her tone light.

  “I guarantee it.”

  She flushed at the intimacy of his words. “Maybe I need a wider frame of reference.”

  “Maybe you need a reminder.”

  Without thinking, she replied, “Maybe I do.”

  Devlyn looked taken aback by her quick capitulation. He leaned towards her. She panicked and searched about for a change of subject. “You have spoken with Millicent?”

  “Only briefly. The woman is attempting to avoid me although I managed to corner her this afternoon. I believe her when she says she has no idea where our blackmailer lives. She did tell me his name—Michael Bradley.”

  “Michael Bradley.” She shook her head. “I’m not familiar with the name.”

  Dev looked around the room. “We shouldn’t discuss this here.”

  “And where should we discuss this?”

  “Stafford House,” the man replied with a spark in his eyes.

  She knew if she agreed to the meeting they would do more than discuss Franco, Cecily and Millicent. Right now, there was only one thing she craved more than wine: Devlyn Maitlin.

  “I will w
ait for you in the drawing room. You do prefer to access the house through the mews?”

  “Yes.” His eyes watched her mouth.

  The memory of the last time he’d been in her home caused a tremor that had nothing to do with abstinence from alcohol to course its way through her body.

  “There is a pair of French doors off the back terrace that lead to the drawing room. I will leave the doors unlocked.”

  Devlyn bowed. “Good evening, Lady Stafford.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Maitlin.”

  * * * * *

  It was a simple enough matter for Devlyn to sneak through the mews behind Stafford House as Anna’s stable boy was a heavy sleeper.

  He couldn’t say Anna made him feel like a schoolboy again for he’d never experienced so much anticipation, so much excitement at the thought of spending time alone with a woman.

  Wiggins stood near the back gate to the garden and other than a quick word of recognition, remained silent when his master slipped by. Devlyn found the French doors unlocked. He slipped into the room and stopped midstride. Anna stood near a low cabinet, the flickering light from a lamp causing the gold trim on the bodice of her dress to glow. She appeared to be contemplating the decanters in front of her.

  Heavens, she looked beautiful. “Do you need a drink? Is the thought of my coming here so unsettling?”

  “I don’t drink alcohol anymore,” she replied and spun to look at him. “The bottles are empty.”

  He turned and locked the doors behind him before he moved further into the room. “So they are.” He thought back to their first meeting. “Did you empty them to remove temptation?”

  “Yes. I was in the habit of drinking a bottle of wine every night.”

  He didn’t know what to say so he nodded. He was afraid if he spoke now, she would stop talking. He wanted her to confide in him.

  “I didn’t know I would get so ill when I stopped drinking.” Her expression turned grim. “For a few days I wanted to die. The nausea and headaches were awful. I get tremors… They still happen sometimes.”