Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Madeline Martin

  ‘Tripe.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Bomford’s eyes narrowed. ‘And who was she dallying with that caused the fire?’

  Devlin leapt to his feet, scraping the chair over the floor. ‘I was there that night. So were you. You blasted set her on fire.’

  ‘Oh, that fire. No lasting harm done. Priscilla said I was heroic moving everyone aside and putting out the edges of the inferno. Appreciated your support, Dev.’

  Devlin pointed to the paper. ‘Read what is said about her. That cad wanted to break off. She is doing the noble thing. Making it easy for him. This is what she gets. Painted like a strumpet for the world to peruse, and faithless as well. He wants to destroy her.’

  ‘How do you know Mr Tenney wanted to break off with her?’ Payton asked.

  ‘Because she told me,’ Devlin said, whirling to frown at his cousin.

  Bomford and Payton shared a quick glance and a grin.

  ‘Ah,’ the Baron said. ‘The sparks are between Miss Albright and Dev. I did detect they couldn’t take their eyes off each other.’

  Damn. He could grab them both by the neck and bounce their heads together and they would not be angry with him or see what was in front of them. Rachael was being destroyed and only he could see the tragedy.

  ‘Unusual for you to get so upset over a woman,’ Payton said. ‘And you never did make it to the lodge when she was recovering at your house.’

  ‘He didn’t, did he? Devlin is our mystery viscount.’ The Baron chuckled. ‘I will have to tell Priscilla.’

  Devlin glared at them for a second. ‘You’re both wrong. But even if you were both right, it doesn’t matter. The mushroom of a man is not worthy of her.’

  Devlin stalked out of the room. He intended to go straight to Tenney and demand that he set the record straight.

  Outside the door, he stopped.

  He didn’t know where Tenney lived.

  But he did know where Rachael lived. He would have to find her and get the stinkhorn’s address.

  * * *

  Devlin strode through the doorway, and passed the servant who’d led him to the sitting room where she and her mother sat.

  ‘May I speak with your daughter alone?’ Devlin asked, holding up the crumpled newsprint. He noticed that some of the ink had stained his hands. Fitting.

  Her mother gave Rachael a questioning glance. ‘But—I don’t know if her father would approve.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,’ Devlin said. ‘I want to discuss Mr Tenney with her. She needs to know what a...questionable mushroom he is. The poisonous kind.’

  ‘Tenney? A mushroom?’ Her mother rose, but remained in place, studying the situation. ‘I would think him more a snail.’

  ‘I would like to speak with Rachael. Alone, if you will approve?’ He’d not meant to call her by her first name, but the word was already out of his mouth.

  He expected her mother to argue, but instead, she beamed. ‘Well, in that case, I will leave you two. Do take care.’

  She bustled out.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ Rachael asked. ‘Now Mother likely thinks you are the reason for the betrothal to end.’

  ‘You can tell her the truth later.’ He paced across the room and then returned to his original position.

  ‘Tenney is—he is unconscionable. He has spoken about you to the newspaper.’

  Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak. ‘And I sent him the nicest letter after Mother’s soirée calling off the betrothal.’

  He paced three steps. ‘That was blasted considerate of you. I’d like to send him to an undertaker. Better yet, a body snatcher.’ He held the paper out. ‘Read this.’

  She hesitated, then took the paper. She braced herself before she straightened it. She didn’t even want his name mentioned in her presence and, from Devlin’s manner, she wasn’t going to like what she read.

  She held the print and at first it was as incomprehensible as the letter from Tenney. She read through twice, the second time studying each sentence before she accepted the words in front of her.

  She collapsed into the chair, clenching the paper. She didn’t want to believe it. Just like she hadn’t wanted the letter to be true.

  ‘You’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve this. Nothing. You did exactly as he wanted. You dissolved the betrothal. Yet he painted you as a conniving woman who used him to further yourself.’

  ‘How did—? Even if he hated me, I can’t believe he would do this. I presumed he cared for my parents. They welcomed him into our home. This will be so painful for them.’ She held the paper in front of her. ‘They’ll be so upset. And he had to have initiated this. He had to have.’

  ‘This is a bigger blow than just a slap to the face. It can hurt your father’s business if people connect you to the ventures and question your integrity.’

  ‘No one can doubt the value of the items we sell. The silver goods are marked carefully and the tariffs paid.’

  ‘Oh, they can. Even if they merely question your honesty, it cannot benefit and can only damage your family.’

  Her body deflated. It felt as if her future had been pulled from her, leaving nothing behind but an empty woman who must always pretend everything was glorious.

  Devlin seized the paper from her hands and tossed it to the floor. He lifted her to her feet, with all the care of lifting the most prized artwork in the world. ‘I will not challenge him to a duel. I will grab him by the scruff of the neck and take him to the newspaper offices and demand that he tell the truth. He cannot do this to you.’

  She took Devlin’s sleeves. ‘It will do no good. It will only make the matter worse.’ She shook her head. ‘Besides, think of our mothers. Yours and mine. Anything you do will only make the scandal bigger and will embarrass them.’

  ‘I want his words to blow up in his face.’

  ‘You can’t fight with Tenney. It will not help my reputation. Imagine the tongues wagging. Well, we know the paper was right about why she broke things off.’

  ‘The letter you have,’ Devlin said. ‘It’s in his handwriting. It shows the truth of him. No man worth his spit would do something like that. Let me have it. I will show it around at the club and before long all the wives and sweethearts will know. A version of it will likely end up being in the newspaper.’

  She put her cupped fingers over her nose. ‘No. I cannot. Don’t defend me. It could go so wrong. I will be the centre of attention. All eyes will be on me—and on my face.’

  ‘Then let me handle it quietly. I will pound him small enough to fit into a snuffbox if he doesn’t tell the truth.’

  ‘It’s my fault as well.’ She turned, eyes hidden. ‘He changed. I’ve examined his letters, particularly the last ones, and I can see it now.’

  His jaw dropped. ‘You were rereading letters from him?’

  ‘Yes. It’s been on my mind. Why he did that. Why he could not discuss it with me first. But now I can accept what I missed. Because I did not yearn for him and miss him when we weren’t together, it didn’t seem odd to me that he was the same. Perhaps he felt he could not broach the subject with me.’

  ‘You are making excuses for him. I want to throttle him and you want to ignore his disloyalty.’ He shook his head, as if slinging poison from his mind. ‘You have to tell your side. Or let me tell it for you. If anyone can smooth this over and make you come out smelling like flowers in springtime, I can.’

  ‘I can’t. I can’t let you solve this for me. It’s too new. Too painful. I’m humiliated.’

  * * *

  Devlin couldn’t understand her logic. How could she feel humiliated? How? She had done nothing wrong.

  She had to let him take care of this.

  He had a weapon—his easy-going smile—and it would work wonders for her. His experience with being a rake would stand her in good
stead. He could stir up so much support for her with a soft word dropped here, a question there.

  Damn. With just a smile and a raised eyebrow at the right places, he could probably drag Tenney through more mud than the man had ever seen.

  Rachael didn’t grasp the situation. She had the proof in black and white of Tenney’s perfidy, yet she didn’t accept it. She was too gentle-hearted.

  A statuette caught his eye, a butterfly, suspended glass baubles reflecting the sunlight of the window.

  ‘You do not understand that you’re supposed to be a butterfly,’ he said.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Butterfly?’

  ‘Yes. You’re the beauty of the world. To be protected. Cherished. Adored. To nurture in return.’

  ‘No. I have feet and arms instead of wings. I am created to work.’

  ‘Isn’t it much more pleasant to be an object of veneration?’ he asked, wondering, and thinking it would bring her all the joy she would ever need.

  Light he’d not seen before shone on her face. ‘I will work.’

  He waited, returning his perusal to the glass baubles. Letting the silence in the room grow.

  ‘I want—What I really want—is—Late in the night while I was reading the letters over and over, my father noticed I was awake and was concerned. I confided that I wasn’t to marry. I explained that I had changed my mind. He was crushed. I cried when I saw that and I begged him to let me have more to do with the jewellery he sells to take my mind from the fact that I’m never to wed. At first he refused, then he told me the truth of the finances. He said there may be nothing left there for me.’

  ‘You need to consider that. A husband’s funds can save you.’

  ‘I may remain a spinster.’ Her chin went high. ‘I see nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘Neither do I. It was a statement.’

  ‘Didn’t sound nice.’ She glared at him, her voice tense. ‘You don’t think I’m capable of handling business matters and I should marry so I won’t starve.’ She shook her head. ‘And you are the one who told me that a match with a disparaging person would be like wearing good shoes with thorns in them.’

  Her irritation shocked him, and he couldn’t speak. He’d meant nothing unpleasant by his comment, only having concern for her future, and she was upset.

  He studied her. Yes, even her eyes were a little pinched. Those beautiful, expressive eyes that he could gaze into for hours.

  Instantly, he stopped the direction of his imaginings. He was thinking like a heartsore spinster himself. He coughed, pulling himself into reality.

  ‘It was meant as a sincere, respectful comment. The business might fail. You will have no way of supporting yourself if it does. If you marry, a husband’s assistance can be vital.’

  ‘Right now, that isn’t in my future. A silver and jewellery shop in London is. The small structure which sells goods in Manchester and has rooms above it. And two ventures in Bath and I want to make the best of them.’

  ‘Then aid your father within the constraints of society. You cannot afford to let your name be tarnished in the paper. You cannot. Don’t sit by and watch the business dwindle into nothing.’

  He walked over and picked up the fashion-plate magazine. ‘If you are not going to flutter about and pursue a courtship, then you’ll have to take on more work. You’ll have to be an ambassador for your family endeavours. My father attends events and, often as not, during the night a word or two of business is discussed that he acts on later. Perhaps a question is asked or a new idea is presented and the others give their opinions on it.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a relaxing night.’

  ‘It is, to them. They are with friends, discussing what can go right and what can go wrong and why things work the way they do. I suppose it is much like mothers might enjoy discussing their children. The men are discussing their workday babies. The way they spend their daytime hours.’

  For a moment, he’d forgotten who he was and when he remembered the ease returned to his face. He held a hand out, planning to touch her arm in a reassuring caress. He stopped just before he held her.

  Devil take it, she must have the sort of charm he had, only hers worked on him, pulling him to her. Wrapping him up in her eyes and causing him to forget everything but comforting and being close to her.

  He had to remain in control of himself. He couldn’t let two alluring eyes, a perfect nose and luscious lips distract him. He was not a youth glancing at an attractive woman, yet he was unable to distance himself from an awareness of her.

  ‘Let’s sit,’ he said and, instead of an embrace, he guided her to the sofa and sat beside her. As he sat beside her, a feeling of peace invaded him. He wondered if Rachael somehow did for him what he did for others.

  His mind fastened on the image of her in his arms. It would not be the same as holding any of the fragile butterflies. Deep within, he knew he missed something vital by not clasping her, but she was too injured. He could not take advantage of her when she was in pain. He would not use someone’s heart to manipulate them.

  He wanted to comfort her, but holding her would only be diverting her from her problem. It wouldn’t be benefiting her at all. It might be damaging.

  He directed all his attention on what she needed.

  ‘What is your plan?’ he asked.

  ‘I am to have a business. Jewellery would not have been my first choice, but it is what is in front of me. I am to take care of myself. I don’t wish to spend my days getting my hair pulled and twisted and filled with so much hair dressing that my scalp is sore when it is being washed out, while my father is worrying about how he will afford the maid for me.’

  ‘You know that life is a game,’ he said. ‘That’s what it must be to have some happiness.’

  Happiness. Deep in the pit of his stomach, a nagging feeling reminded him he might not comprehend his own feelings, but only how to create solace for others. A touch of anger replaced the doubt and then he shoved it aside, knowing he must soothe Rachael.

  He opened the periodical to a page and randomly glanced through it, a smile on his lips. ‘This is a military catalogue for women.’

  She let a whisper of breath flow through her teeth before speaking. ‘You are a rake. It is a game to you. To me it has to be more. I must gather all my wits and duck my head and work as hard as I can. My security will depend on it. I can’t spend my parents’ limited resources on frivolities.’

  ‘It’s more than that.’

  ‘It’s more? Dances and drinking and gambling? You have the most fortunate life of all. To be the heir.’

  ‘It is my role. I am happy that it suits me well. I represent my family, although it is not seen that way. If my father makes a misstep, and he has on many occasions—he doesn’t get on well with my mother—sometimes word gets about that he has a new sweetheart and then I am there to make a bit of laughter. It’s the way of the Bryan family. For centuries, I say at the club. I laugh it off. I might shake my head, but I make light of it.’

  ‘It’s terribly wrong of your father and you shouldn’t jest it away.’

  ‘I can’t make it go away. But I can make light of it. When I see my mother, I twirl her around and tell her she is the best mother in the world. That we are indeed blessed to have her. She glows with happiness and I tell her tall tales to make her laugh. I am the rakish, wayward ambassador for my family. I duel in jests, dancing, gambling and whatever else that will make the world lighter.’ He rose, lifted the magazine again, frowned at the cover and then held it up to her. ‘And you must be the same. With soirée dresses. With smiles.’

  She shook her head.

  He tossed the periodical to the table, letting it slap the wood. ‘You have a man of affairs to handle the business of the day. You need to increase the customers. Let the man of affairs work with the numbers. You send the people to him.’

 
; ‘I can understand numbers,’ she said. ‘Eventually. I will get a tutor if need be. I want to absorb what goes on behind the curtain. Why some endeavours fail and others succeed.’

  He felt he was trying to tell her that very thing, but she had to believe it also. ‘Calculate the true figures, Rachael. Mr Tenney just made a jab at your profits. I’m sure he was only wanting to protect his own reputation and finances. He didn’t give a jot about yours.’

  She must understand how precarious her financial future was. She mustn’t be forced to marry someone because the roof was leaking, the larders were empty and her mother was hungry.

  ‘In society, right now Tenney will not turn the other cheek and wish you well. He now holds a grudge against you. It is the way of people like him. Rise above. Rise above so you can drop the contents of a chamber pot on his head. A chamber pot filled with coins. When the night is long and you are tired of the dancing, remember Tenney and keep moving.’

  She stood. ‘Society doesn’t fit me. They don’t want me.’

  ‘Build a bridge into it one smile at a time.’

  ‘I don’t feel like smiling.’

  ‘Do it anyway. It’s comforting to others. I seem to be able to say what I think and people don’t hold it against me. In fact, it seems as though I can say rather straightforward comments and get praise because I have no animosity in my voice. It’s my haphazard observation, not criticism. And presented as a jest we’re all in on.’

  ‘You flash a smile and people forgive you.’

  ‘A smile can get a person far. I’m proof of that, I believe,’ he said. ‘It is a useful tool. I’ve used it many times.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Absolutely. I build on success. The lessons...who would want lessons to learn more? I would rather learn from the people around me and discover what life has taught them. They are my studies.’