Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress (12 page)

“I
’m sorry, Papa.”

The note from James had been waiting for Rufus when he got home and at first he’d been furious that, after promising not to, his son had run off again. But when he reached Averil’s house and found them all cozy together in the parlor, that wretched dog taking up most of the floor space, he couldn’t continue to be angry. He’d always found it difficult to be angry with his son.

“I wanted to see Hercules again,” Eustace continued with his apology, looking up at Rufus with wide, innocent eyes. “And Averil said she didn’t mind. She said it was good for Beth’s nerves to have Hercules running about, to tire him out, you see.”

Rufus gave him a hard look. “
Lady
Averil,” he reminded him sternly.

“Oh, we’ve put all of that aside,” Averil said, her smile further eroding his angry father stance. “Eustace and I are friends.”

Eustace nodded, smiling at her. “Did you know, Papa, that Averil rescued Hercules from a man who was beating him? And he was so thin and sick, but she nursed him back to health.”

Rufus eyed the dog. “Doesn’t look as if it’s starving now,” he offered, and gave Averil a smile of his own. “But I’m not surprised Lady Averil would do something so kind.”

She was pouring tea for him, but he could see he’d made her blush.

“Actually, I was thinking about you,” he said, lowering his voice.

Startled, she looked up. For a moment he could only stare at her, as if he were under a spell, until James said something to Miss Harmon, and snapped him out of it. Averil turned back to the tea things and handed him his cup.

“Why were you thinking about me?” she asked him softly. “I’m sure you have more interesting things to think about, Lord Southbrook.”

He wondered if that were true. There were his debts and the future, but he didn’t want to think about them. There was James and Eustace, and all the other people dependent upon him. But he didn’t want to think about that, either. Thinking of Averil seemed a very good way to pass the time.

He cleared his throat. “I have a large house on my estate at Southbrook Castle. The dower house. It was where we used to put all the old poverty-stricken relatives, out of the way of the main house, but it’s been empty for years now. It needs some work on it, of course, but I was thinking it would be an ideal place for some of your Distressed Women. Certainly it’s isolated enough to keep them from straying.”

She looked surprised. “What a good idea! Of course, transporting them to Lincolnshire might be difficult. And I’d have to ask Gareth—after all, this is his project. I am only supposed to be helping him.”

Rufus sipped his tea. The hem of her dress was raised enough for him to see her lemon-yellow shoes, and her ankles, which were very neat in their white stockings. He wondered what it would be like to sit with her in the evenings at Southbrook Castle, with those little feet on his lap, and stroke her ankles. Yes, he’d start at her ankles and move upward, slowly, very slowly . . .

Rufus cleared his throat again. “Well, think about it. The offer is there.”

As long as he didn’t have to sell the castle and the land and everything else, he thought, his mood slipping into gloom. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned the house but the idea had come to him and he hadn’t really thought it out in any detail. But now he’d mentioned it he felt rather proud of himself, and pleased with the glow in Averil’s gray eyes.

No matter how ill-judged that glow was. Because if she really knew what was in his mind she would be throwing her cup at his head and setting Hercules onto him.

Miss Harmon was suggesting that she and James take Eustace and Hercules out into the garden again. “One last play before you leave,” she said. A glance passed between her and Averil, and Rufus tried not to smile. He could guess what that meant. The companion was leaving her charge in the same room as the wicked earl, alone, and she was warning her to take extreme care not to be ravished.

Oh God,
Rufus thought, the fragile tea cup rattling in his hand,
don’t go there.
Averil on the bed, half-naked, her hair wild around her, her lips parted as he . . .

“More tea?” She was smiling innocently at him and he pulled himself together.

“Thank you.”

He handed the cup to her and she topped it up. He noticed she kept her fingers well away from his but all the same he managed to brush them lightly with his fingertips. She blushed.

Such innocence. Was he really planning to marry this sweet young woman? Could he really do something so dastardly?

“Eustace told me about Mrs. Slater.”

Rufus stared. Suddenly he felt completely sober. “He told you?” he said. “He never tells anyone.”

“Well, he told me,” she said, and he could see the fury in her eyes, in her face. A Valkyrie, that was what she was. Forget the sweet innocent. Averil was a Viking maiden going to war.

“Averil—”

“I was so angry. You have no idea. But I thought it was better to be calm, so I pretended. I told him that most nannies are lovely and Mrs. Slater must have been an-an aberration. Well, something like that.” She leaned closer and he could see the swell of her bosom beneath her floral dress, the dip at the base of her throat where he’d like to put his tongue. “Do you think that was the right thing to do?”

“Yes, yes, I do. He rarely talks about it. As you can imagine, it was a dreadful situation, and he is yet to recover his confidence. That woman said things to him that knocked him down. I hope we are slowly building him back up. He should be at school but, well, I thought it best to leave it until next year.”

“He’s a dear.”

Rufus knew he had a silly grin on his face. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He thinks he’s tough as old boots.”

Averil hesitated, biting her lip. Rufus stifled a groan.

“He seems lonely. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, dropping his voice. They were very close now. He could see her gray eyes had golden flecks in them, and there was a tiny mole on her temple, near her hairline. “He is lonely I suppose, but there’s not much to be done about it. At home, at Southbrook, he has friends. People are not so judgmental there,” he added.

“Oh, I see.”

He was going to kiss her.

“Pardon me if this is private, but won’t Eustace need to be part of London society one day? When he is earl? Wouldn’t it help him if you were to return to society yourself, Lord Southbrook?”

Rufus blinked. He didn’t know whether to laugh or roar with frustration. The wretched woman was trying to save him! Of course, he should have realized. The dog, the Home for Distressed Women, Eustace . . . and probably plenty of other lost animals and strays Averil had “saved” over the years.

Well, she wasn’t going to save him, unless . . . Rufus felt the anger drain out of him. Unless she decided to give him her fortune, there was that, of course.

“I fear I am a lost cause,” he said quietly, watching her. “No hostess would invite me into her salon, dear Averil.”

Now was her chance to simper and tell him she would help him to regain his lost position among the elite. Once again Averil surprised him.

“Not even for the sake of your son?” she said in a sharp voice.

The Valkyrie was back again. And then it seemed to occur to her how ridiculous their argument was, because she gave a breathless laugh.

“Forgive me,” she said, reaching to place her hand on his. “I am rather too interfering at times, so Beth tells me. I’m sure you are perfectly capable of doing what must be done for your son.”

He turned his hand over so that their fingers clasped. She looked a little startled but didn’t pull away. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed first her palm and then each of her fingertips.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Outside Hercules was barking at the cat next door, which was sitting on the high stone wall, taunting him with its inaccessibility.

Rufus rose to his feet and she stared up at him, probably wondering what he was going to do next. Ravish her, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m sorry we all landed on you like this,” he said. “It was very rude of my son and he will be punished for it.”

“Oh no, please. At least . . . I know it was wrong of him, but please don’t punish him. He can come and visit me any time. Hercules will love it.”

“And I, Averil? Am I welcome at any time?”

Her cheeks were pink. She stood up, brushing her skirts with hands that seemed a little unsteady, and although she was looking down he could see her lips curled into a smile. “Of course, Lord Southbrook,” she said.

He felt rather smug.

And then she looked up, catching him out. “We don’t play favorites here,” she added politely, and he saw that she was aware of his manipulations.

“I’m glad to hear it.” His smile faded and suddenly his face was very serious. “You should order me from your house, Averil. Bar your door to me. I’m not safe to be with you.”

Her cheeks were even pinker but she held his gaze. “I-I don’t think I could do that, Lord Southbrook.”

“Call me Rufus,” he said. “At least when we’re alone. Lord Southbrook was my father.”

“Rufus, then,” she whispered. “I don’t want to bar you from my house, Rufus. I think you are a far nicer man than you pretend. And besides, you’re helping me find my sister. I can’t not see you. It wouldn’t be practical, would it?”

Rufus sighed. “Don’t say I haven’t warned you then,” he told her. “Good-bye, Averil. Until the next time.”

“Y
our garden is a joy, Miss Harmon,” said James, bending to smell some heliotrope.

“When Averil is so busy with Doctor Simmons, I have to do something.”

She could not believe how much she had enjoyed James’s company. Knowing he was probably an incorrigible flirt, as well as a gambler, didn’t seem to matter. He was good company and he made her laugh. He’d even asked her to go to the ballet with him in a few days’ time and although she’d said she’d think about it, she was inclined to accept.

What on earth would Averil think? Here she was, warning the girl away from the earl, while she went merrily off with the uncle.

But in her heart she knew this was something special. Standing with him in the rose garden, Beth felt happier than she had for ages. As they walked she’d been conscious of his trousered thigh lightly touching her skirts and a little shiver of something very physical tingled through her body.

Desire?
Was that possible? Beth had never desired a man in her life—wasn’t she too old for such passions? And yet here she was all aflutter for the Honorable James Blainey. She supposed she should be wary, or at least very much on her guard. She supposed there would come a point when she must draw a line and tell him to leave her alone. But for now, she was content just to let things unfold. This new direction in her staid life was all rather exciting and she certainly wasn’t going to put a stop to it before it became absolutely necessary.

A
veril had arrived at the Home for Distressed Women to find the place in pandemonium. Another of the women was missing, despite all of Gareth’s precautions, and all the locks on the doors. They’d sent Jackson out to search, and Gareth had even been out himself, but without any success. It was as if she had simply vanished.

“Clearly the girl did not want redemption,” Gareth said, disgruntled. “That’s her loss. There are plenty of others to take her place.”

Averil had been secretly mulling over the earl’s offer, but now it seemed too good a plan to keep to herself. Especially now. Wouldn’t Gareth look more favorably upon it, after what had happened this morning?

She took Gareth aside to speak to him. Disappointingly, he wasn’t at all happy with the earl’s offer. Or with her, either, for suggesting it to him.

“What has the earl of Southbrook to say to anything?” he demanded, eyes flashing with fury. She had never seen him so het up. “Donations are one thing, Averil, but trying to take over my Home is quite another.”

Averil was angry, too, but she reined it in, trying to stay calm, to reason with him. “It isn’t
your
Home. It belongs to the women who live here, and if they don’t feel safe then they’ll stop coming. Mrs. Claxton told me she’s already seen three women leave in three days because they say they’ve changed their minds. Gareth, I think the reason they’ve changed their minds is that they don’t feel safe, because in every direction they look they are confronted by their past. They might come here with the intention of escaping it, but how can they?”

But as usual Gareth wouldn’t hear of it. “You’re being dramatic,” he said sharply.

“I’m being sensible, Gareth. Please, consider what I’ve said. I know you feel strongly about the Home and I know you want the best for the women.”

He shook his head, his hands clenched on the desk in front of him. There was something so distraught about his expression that Averil was silenced. Gareth could be difficult and awkward but this was different. There was something very wrong.

“Gareth?” She came to his side, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Gareth, what is the matter?”

He looked up at her, his eyes full of misery and helplessness. She hadn’t known him as a child—she’d only met her cousin when they were grown—but right now he seemed to have regressed to one.

“Averil, I know this is hardly the time, but . . . I am having difficulties with Baroness Sessington.”

Averil struggled to understand. “The baroness?”

Jackson sauntered past the open door, casting them a sideways glance, heading toward the common room. Averil was tempted to follow him and finally have words with him, but she could hardly leave Gareth in the middle of their conversation. A moment later Averil saw several of the women come hurrying past the other way, as though Jackson’s arrival was the signal for their departures. Surely that was wrong, she thought, but Gareth had reached out to take her hand in his, and she was forced to turn her attention back to him.

“It’s rather personal,” he said, and sighed. “Sit down, Averil. I need to explain to you.”