Annalise knew she shouldn’t, knew with every drop of blood that raced through her body at that slightest touch of his hand that she should stay at least a mile and a half away from this man. She knew it would be harder to marry Barny after one more minute in Gard’s company, much less an entire day. And marriage to Barny was looking more and more like her only choice. It wouldn’t be a terrible marriage, she told herself. He’d be pleasant enough most of the time, and leave her in peace the rest. And he would not break her heart.
But.
How many times had Annalise contradicted her own reasoning with that slippery
but
?
She hated this charade, but she came alive matching wits and words with Lord Gardiner. He was a rake and a rogue, but she ached to wipe the lines of worry from his face. He’d leave her soul in tatters, but she had to have one last day with him.
“Yes, I will ride with you to Richmond.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gard had no intention of letting matters rest until tomorrow. Miss Avery, Leesie—what the deuce kind of name was that?—might not be safe, no matter what the chawbacon in the park said. What if the stepfather came early? He could snatch her away and Gard might never know where she was. Nor did he have any intention of letting Miss Avery make up her own mind about fleeing or marrying the lobcock, despite his assurances to her. Seeing her in supposed peril had quite settled the question in his own mind, after the blood lust drained enough for him to think clearly. The woman was his. That’s all there was to it, primitive male possessiveness toward his mate. He’d tell her tomorrow. Today he had to make sure she was protected.
While he was outside the park gates debating whether to go to the Clarendon and beat the towheaded fellow to a pulp, or go to Laurel Street and ascertain that Miss Avery was, indeed, staying there, a woman on a showy white mare winked at him. As a matter of course Gard noted that she had a good seat, nicely rounded. She had the magnolia skin and jet-black hair that some Spanish beauties possessed, set off by a black habit and shako-style hat with a red feather. An altogether fetching study in contrasts.
“Señor?”
she queried.
His stallion Midnight neighed in greeting. “Me too,” Gard seconded.
“Si.”
Considering that he expected to be a betrothed man in another day, and considering that he intended to do his damnedest to keep his vows, the earl felt entitled to one last fling. If Miss Avery did find out, she deserved the setdown for making a fool out of him at his own lodgings. She could take it for a lesson that he was not to be trifled with.
*
First he went to Bloomsbury, ostensibly to advise them of company that evening. No one was at home but the maid Lorna, polishing the banister, so he took the opportunity to look around the attics and cellars, searching for signs of occupancy. When Annie returned home, market basket full of fresh lavender for the linen closets and drawers, Lorna directed her upstairs, for “’Is nibs is acting mighty strange.”
Ross was reduced to tapping the wainscoting for hollow sounds, lifting the rugs for trapdoors, feeling like the most caper-witted cocklehead in nature, when he noticed Annie silently observing him from the doorway of the master bedchamber. “Looking for ghosts,” he hurried to tell her. “Making sure nothing frightens away the lady I have coming tonight.”
Annie left just as quietly. The glasses hid the tears that trickled down her cheeks, leaving paths through the yellowish powder. How sad, she thought, he was making a heartfelt assignation with one woman for tomorrow, yet he had to have another tonight. She was right to decide on Barny. Ross Montclaire couldn’t go one evening without a female in his bed.
So let
him
go to hell in a harlot’s handcart. Annalise no longer cared, and her bag of tricks was empty. Until Maudine came back.
*
Gard repaired to the stables to see what he could discover from Tuthill. The man was as closemouthed as a clam, except for the stream of tobacco spittle he managed to get on Gard’s Hessians. “Sorry, gov’nor. Didn’t see you standin’ there.”
“You wouldn’t know anything about any mysterious young ladies, would you?”
Tuthill scratched his head with the sharpening stone he was using on a wicked-looking knife. “You want one in a mask tonight? I doubt my Nan’d approve me goin’ out lookin’, gov’nor, but since that’s all she lets me do, I’ll try.”
“Devil take it, you dolt. You know I meant a real lady, coming here.”
“You bring a real lady here, my Nan and Annie’d have your hide for sure. You’d be eatin’ stone soup and cinders for days. And they’d take the lady and wash her mouth out with soap and march her off to church or sommat.”
The earl twitched his crop against his leg. The stableman was more like to tap his claret than tell the truth. “I am not happy with this situation, Tuthill.”
“Not by half, I’ll warrant.” Tuthill tossed the knife to test its haft, accidentally slicing off one of the tassels on Gard’s boots. “Sorry, gov. Needs more work.”
*
Nobody answering Gard’s description of the man who accosted Miss Avery was staying at the Clarendon. That is, they had no tavern-mannered, tub-of-lard jackanapes lout with straw-colored hair. There was a Mr. Barnaby Coombes staying there who was blond and stocky, but he was out for the day. No, my lord did not wish to leave a message. He
wished
to tear the man’s heart out, but he said he’d return another time.
*
Angelita was whispering sweet nothings in Gard’s ear on the way up the stairs. They were nothings indeed—the sultry wench didn’t have a particle of sense, and not much English, either—but they felt good, until they entered the bedroom and she let out a piercing scream that was like to reverberate through his brain box for days. He turned as she began pummeling him with her reticule. “I did not do it!” he yelled, not knowing what he was denying, since he couldn’t see beyond the beaded missile and he could not understand the Spanish curses she was raining on his head along with the blows.
Annie pushed past him, grabbed up the wash-stand pitcher, and tossed the contents at Angelita.
“
Basta
,
you ninnyhammer. Of course he didn’t do it. How dare you think he did! Now, get out.
Vamos usted
.”
Annie held the pitcher over her head, ready to throw that, too, if necessary. Angelita vamoosed.
Gard was already at the bedside before Angelita was out the door, screaming of
los locos
.
He gently examined Maudine’s blackened eye and split, bloody lip.
“I swear to you, whoever did this will be fortunate if he lives to see tomorrow’s dawn.”
“No, you must not, my lord. It was my man. He’d only beat me worse.”
“Why did he do this to you, my dear?”
“Because I ran away from you yesterday and brought no money home, only the lovely bonnet. He said I had to come back, so I did. Annie says you’re not a brute after all, it was all a hum.” Looking up at him through the one eye that opened, she confessed, “I don’t understand the joke, but Annie says you’ll fix things right.”
Gard looked at Annie, so confident, so trusting. Oh, Lud, how could anything make this right?
Eventually he promised to find Maudine somewhere safe, perhaps with Mother Ignace. Zeus knew, not even Cholly’s mother was
that
broadminded. He gave her the ring that had gone begging in his robe pocket all these nights, knowing how she liked pretty things, and the promise of whatever blunt she needed, until she was settled somewhere, somewhere her so-called protector could never trespass. He also vowed to teach the scum of a procurer what it felt like to be pummeled by a stronger force. Meantime Maudine should stay right where she was as long as she wished. Gard wouldn’t be needing the bed; he’d never bring another woman here. The house was jinxed.
Later, when the girl was asleep with the help of a little laudanum, and Gard’s fury was eased with a little cognac, he asked Annie to play for him, to calm his nerves.
While Annie sorted through the music, the earl reviewed the day’s events. Mostly he pictured Maudine’s battered face atop Miss Avery’s vibrant body, under that damnable veil. The thought of his Lady in Green in the hands of a vicious, greedy man made his pulse pound louder than Annie’s tentative practice chords. B’gad, he
had
to keep her safe!
“Annie, I know—”
“I know I should not have put the girl in your bed, my lord,” she interrupted, turning on the stool so he could see himself reflected in her dark glasses.
“But she was so frightened. I had to prove to her there were no…ghosts there.”
“No, I wanted to discuss—”
“I don’t suppose you can find her a position as a lady’s maid?”
“Not for any lady I know. And I do not think Maudine is suited for a life of service. That type of service. She likes fancy clothes and jewels too much. But what I wanted to ask you was about Miss—” Annie hit a few wrong notes in succession, then stood up. “I am sorry, my lord, but this has been a distressing evening for me. I cannot concentrate on the music. Will you please excuse me? I must see about Miss Maudine at any rate. Good night, my lord.”
“Wait, I need to know—blast!” She was gone. That woman and Tuthill obviously shared a family distaste for the truth. The only difference between them was that Annie didn’t spit and Tuthill didn’t have a mole on his cheek.
*
Aggravated beyond reason, Lord Gardiner went to one of the new gambling dens, hoping to lose himself in a game of cards. None of his acquaintances seemed eager for his company at their table, however.
“Sorry. We’re just playing the last hand.” Or “Too bad, we already have a fourth.” Ivory-tuners were at the craps tables, and Kitty was presiding at the roulette wheel, which left only the hardened gamesters playing faro, never his choice, never among such unsavory company. He left and went to White’s.
The Duke of Afton got up and left when Gard walked in, not even nodding to the younger man in passing. He’d cut the earl since the night at the theater, so Gard did not even blink, until other gentlemen turned their backs to him.
“What’s going on, Cholly?” he asked his friend. His complexion as red as his hair, Cholly got up from his comfortable seat in the quiet corner. “Sorry, old chap, promised m’mother to make an early night of it. Busy day tomorrow, don’t you know.”
The earl lifted a brow. “What, you too, Cholly? My best friend?”
Cholly sank back down. “Ain’t it time for you to have a look-see at your Suffolk property?”
“I just did, not a fortnight ago.”
“Then a cruise on your yacht? You ain’t been out sailing in ages.”
“There’s been a war going on. I don’t wish to be blown out of the water by any eager Revenuer, either.” He looked around at the heads turned away, the eyes not meeting his. “Why?”
“You just looking peaked, is all.”
“I meant, why am I being treated like a leper?”
“You know how it is, the rumor mill and all. I don’t believe a bit of it m’self. Not about the boys, leastways. Or the whips and chains. I mean, it was hard enough believing Don Juan was in decline.”
“Boys? Whips and chains?” he asked in a fading voice.
That
was how Annie discouraged his lightskirts? By all that was holy, and a few things that were not, Gard swore he’d see that woman burn in hell.
“It’ll all blow over, don’t you know. Always does. Some noble will run away with a coal-heaver’s daughter or something and they’ll forget about your little peccadilloes. Uh, supposed peccadilloes. You might consider a change of scenery, meantime.”
*
Gard considered returning to Laurel Street and causing a furor that could be heard back in Berkeley Square. Instead, a weasel named Fred received the brunt of Lord Gardiner’s fury. Fred would not be bothering Maudine or anyone else any time soon. The minor altercation left the panderer waiting for the sawbones, and left Lord Gardiner winded and too muzzy-headed to confront Annie. Another day, he thought, wrapping a handkerchief around his torn and bloody knuckles. As for the rumors, Ross decided a change of scenery was indeed needful, starting with tomorrow’s visit to Richmond.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The road to Richmond was nearly empty at such an early dawning of the morning. The polite world made their jaunts to the nearby countryside at a more respectable hour, after their chocolate and sweet rolls. Only draymen and drovers were on the road, starting their daily treks into the City. They waved and nodded to the attractive couple and their grooms, on their way to the famous gardens. The working journeyers thought nothing of Miss Avery’s veil, the roads being so dusty and all. Gard thought everything of that accursed scrap of netting, enough so he found the most secluded spot, among some trees, on a knoll where they could see anyone coming. While Clarence tethered the horses some distance away and Mick unpacked the blankets and pillows and hampers, Gard held his breath. Miss Avery seemed to be admiring the view from their grassy hill.
“It’s much too early for nuncheon,” he said finally, “but my cook packed us some hot cider. Should you like some now, to take away the morning chill?”