Lady Dearing's Masquerade (29 page)

“I didn’t set the fire! You have no proof!”

“How do you explain that glove?” Debenham pointed to the blackened glove the idiot still wore.

“It was only a toolhouse, after all! I meant no harm!”

White-hot rage possessed Jeremy. He found both his hands around Dearing’s neck, the excruciating pain from his burns only adding to his fury.

“Damn you, you heard their cries for help!” he snarled. “And you ran away, you miserable coward, leaving your aunt and a child to die!”

Dearing burbled incoherent protests.

“Perhaps you should allow him to breathe, Fairhill,” Debenham suggested. “Not that I really care. He deserves strangulation, but his dead body would prove difficult to explain to the magistrate.”

Jeremy loosened his grip.

Dearing took a few gasping breaths before speaking. “You won’t press charges! Think of the scandal!”

“You will not escape the consequences for what might have been murder.”

“But—but no one died. And none of it would have happened if she hadn’t taken in those little bas—”

Jeremy’s hand on his throat silenced him.

“They are children of the Foundling Hospital. We take care of our own.”

“The circumstances are against you,” Debenham said pointedly to Dearing. “A case could be made that you coveted this estate enough to murder your aunt.”

“I didn’t wish to murder her! Only to—”

“To drive her away?” Jeremy finished. “But who can be sure of your motives? Just how do your finances stand, Dearing? You are well known for your expensive tastes; will anyone doubt that you wished to come into a comfortable property sooner rather than later?”

Dearing cringed.

Reluctantly, Jeremy released his neck. “I’ll leave you two choices. Stand trial. We will brave the gossip; we have plenty of practice, after all. Or leave the country.”

“If I run away everyone will think I tried to kill her. Damn it, I see how they look at me in the district, all politeness, but underneath all vile rebellion! They’re all in league with her. I’d never feel safe to return.”

“Exactly. So which is it to be?”

“Dear God, the scandal of a trial  . . .” The pathetic creature glanced around imploringly. When no one showed any signs of softening, desperation clouded his face. “Where shall I go? What shall I do?”

“My cousin’s husband has an estate in Jamaica,” suggested Debenham. “Perhaps they could use a clerk there. I could arrange it, if you think it will help get rid of him.”

“Thank you, Julian,” said Livvy. “It might do.”

“Jamaica? If disease doesn’t kill me, the climate will!” Dearing protested.

“Perhaps you would prefer to stand trial?” Jeremy asked.

Dearing’s shoulders slumped.

“Then that is settled,” Debenham said cheerfully, grasping the creature’s arm. “If you wish, I’ll arrange matters from here.”

“Thank you,” said Jeremy. “But there is just one more thing I must do.”

He strolled up to Dearing and plucked the diamond pin from his cravat. “For the foundlings.”

“Bravo!” Debenham grinned. “Now I’ll leave you to discuss more . . . interesting matters.”

Jeremy heaved a sigh of relief as he watched them go. Then he glanced down at Livvy and smiled.

They did indeed have more interesting matters to discuss.

Chapter 22

Livvy swayed. Jeremy’s smile made her feel weak, giddy, as light as a balloon ascending from Hyde Park. Irresponsible, as if she were living in a dream. But when he pulled her back into his arms, she held him off with her hands against his chest.

“Still worrying, Livvy?”

The expression in his eyes was so tender she almost forgot what she wanted to say.

Resisting the temptation to just sag into his warm embrace, she looked toward the toolhouse. The roof had caved in, though the brick walls stood and smoke continued to drift eastward over the woods. The sight was a potent reminder of how the world could intrude on their happiness.

“I see you still need some convincing,” he said. “Shall we find a pleasanter place to talk?”

She took his arm and began to walk with him, still feeling light-headed. “How did you discover what happened?”

“I confronted Lord Bromhurst about it. When he told me what had happened, I joined in with his plan for foiling Sir Digby’s scheme.”

“What did you do?”

“We kept the assignation at the Pulteney. Sir Digby was a bit perturbed. I think my costume may have had something to do with it.”

“Oh my . . . the costume from the masquerade?” A giddy laugh escaped her as they entered the herb garden. “He must have thought the devil himself had come to claim him. What I would have given to see that!”

“It
was
quite effective.” He grinned. “I wrung a complete confession out of him, including an admission that your nephew had paid him to cause trouble between us.”

“Adolphus paid Sir Digby?”

“Yes. He must have guessed about our engagement.”

“Oh, that is my fault. Sophronia saw the ring!”

“You shouldn’t have had to hide it,” he retorted grimly.

“And then, not content with breaking up our engagement, they looked for a way to take the children from me. They must have known it was the only thing that could drive me from England.” She shivered. “I never would have guessed it of a puling creature like Adolphus.”

“What matters now is that none of those scoundrels will menace us again.” He slid an arm around her waist.

“But what of Sir Digby?” she asked as they passed under an arch into the flower garden.

“Tobias Cranshaw, his father-in-law, hid in the bedchamber and heard everything. He has been disappointed in Sir Digby for a long time, and wishes he had never allowed his daughter to marry an idle dandy with such expensive habits. He has sent Sir Digby and his daughter to live on Sir Digby’s estate in Yorkshire, requiring them to seek his permission if they wish to come to London.”

“Sir Digby could not have been happy about that.”

“It was that or a debtor’s prison. Cranshaw has also threatened to cut them off without a penny if Sir Digby ever tries to profit from malicious gossip again. But I have not yet told you the best of it.”

“What is it?”

He guided her to a bench and they sat down together, surrounded by beds of purple candytuft, tall blue larkspur, nodding Canterbury bells.

“Cranshaw was very moved by your story,” he said, putting an arm around her. “How you took in the foundlings, everything you have endured at Sir Digby’s hands. The long and short of it is that he has promised to use all his influence in the City—and it is vast—to make sure that support for the Foundling Hospital continues to flourish despite any gossip about
us
.”

“That
is
good news.” She sighed. The scent of carnations filled her nostrils.

“If you are still worrying about what others will think, let me tell you that you now have the most earnest support from Lady Bromhurst and my aunt. They are already hatching schemes for how to present our story to the
ton
. Lady Bromhurst says she will speak to Countess Lieven. If we can enlist
her
support, your position in society will be assured. And of course, today’s events should prove useful . . .”

“How?”

He got a faraway look for a moment. “Yes, of course. Olivia Dearing, the brave heroine who saved a helpless foundling from certain death in a hideous fire, and—”

“Rubbish! I was terrified.”

“Livvy, you
are
a heroine, and everyone shall know it. Do you have any other arguments for me now?”

“None at all,” she said meekly, leaning against him. “It is just so difficult to believe.”

“It
has
been a devilish week. There is so much I learned, so much I still want to tell you.”

For a moment he gazed out at nothing in particular; it was then that Livvy saw the change in his face. A new peace, as if he’d come through some sort of ordeal and was the stronger for it.

Then he smiled, patting his waistcoat pocket. “But that can wait. Now I think I must prove to you that this is all real.”

He leaned over for another tender kiss, then clumsily reached into his waistcoat pocket with his left hand.

“I should like to try this again,” he said, pulling out a velvet pouch and removing her ring from it.

“Will you marry me, Livvy?”

She smiled. “You cannot stop me!”

He carefully slid the ring back onto her finger. She turned her hand and the ring sparkled, as if it had captured the spirit of every favorite blue flower: bluebell, lobelia, larkspur, Canterbury bell.

“Then let us not wait any longer. Marry me today.”

She jerked her head up. “
Today
?”

“There’s no need to wait. And I don’t want to.” He patted his waistcoat pocket, looking insufferably pleased with himself. “The Archbishop was kind enough to provide us with a special license.”

Shock kept her immobilized for a moment. Then he took her hands lightly in his. She stared down at his bandages.

“You don’t wish to wait, do you?”

“No, but what will your family think of such a hasty wedding?”

“They will not be offended, I
promise
you.” Amusement glimmered in his eyes, along with something more potent.

“And the children . . . they must be terribly frightened, especially Ben. It would be such an enormous change for them. But perhaps they will welcome it.”

“Then let us go and find out.” The look in his eyes intensified, as if, despite her dirty face and burnt gown, she were the most desirable thing he’d ever seen. An answering warmth flushed her body; all she could do was nod.

They went together into the house, his arm indecorously around her waist. No doubt the servants were already anticipating a new master, she reflected as they climbed the steps up the terrace.

Twenty minutes later, after she’d changed out of her burnt gown and restored her appearance, they entered the schoolroom. Mrs. Thurlow sat in one corner, reading to Robbie who was perched on her lap.  Jane sat at the table with the older children, Ben close beside her.

The children raised their heads to stare anxiously at her and Sir Jeremy.

“Lady Dee! Sir Jeremy!” Robbie hurled himself out of the housekeeper’s lap and ran to Livvy. “There’s a fire, Lady Dee! Did you know?”

“We know,” she said, hugging him tightly. “But it is burning itself out. We are safe.”

The other children crowded around her and Jeremy. She reached out and hugged them all as best she could.

“Could the house burn too?” Robbie piped.

“No, it will not. We are all safe now.”

“But how
did
the fire start?” asked Philippa.

Livvy frowned, wondering how much to tell the children. Ben at least had probably guessed.

“It was set by someone who will no longer trouble any of you,” Jeremy said.

“I will speak to each of you about it later, if you wish,” Livvy added. “But for now, just know we are all safe. Now please sit down. I have some exciting news for you.”

The children took their places around the table. Mrs. Thurlow and Jane stood nearby, wearing expectant smiles.

“What I wish to tell you is that Sir Jeremy has asked me to marry him, and I have agreed.”

Mrs. Thurlow and Jane broke out in earnest wishes for their happiness. A moment later, Philippa added hers, followed by the others, but the children looked sober.

“Will Sir Jeremy come to live with us?” asked Robbie, voicing the question Livvy suspected the others feared to ask.

“I should be delighted to live here with all of you,” Jeremy answered promptly. “I also have a house called Fairhill Abbey, in Hampshire. We may go there sometimes, but Rosemead Park will always be my favorite place.”

The children beamed. Livvy’s heart swelled with gratitude.

“Will you stay with us tonight?” Robbie asked naively.

Jeremy stifled a grin. “Would you like me to?”

The children all nodded.

“But it would not be proper for me to stay here without being married to her ladyship. I wonder how such a problem might be solved?” He winked in her direction.

“Would it be possible for you to marry today?” Mary asked gravely.

His face perfectly solemn except for deep creases in each cheek, Jeremy nodded. “That sounds like a capital idea.” He turned to Livvy, wicked lights in the depths of his eyes. “Do you think your vicar will oblige us?”

“He will be delighted to do so,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll have a message sent to the vicarage.”

“Well then,” said Mrs. Thurlow. “I must get to Cook. You must allow her time to bake a cake, at least!”

The children burst out in crows of delight.

* * *

Livvy rejoined Jeremy in the library over an hour later, having bathed and changed into a rose-colored silk gown chosen for her by the girls, who’d taken great pleasure in helping Alice fuss over her hair and jewelry.

He arose, smiling, from the wing chair. His carriage and valet had arrived some time earlier from Cherrydean where they’d been awaiting his summons, so he was now impeccably dressed in a dark blue evening coat, his cravat carefully tied, his face cleanly shaved, his hair still slightly damp.

The breath caught in her throat at the sight of him: her husband-to-be, with the mahogany eyes, the velvet voice, all power and gentleness. Gloves hiding his bandages. Her knight!

With a joyful cry, she hurled herself into his waiting arms and lifted her face to be kissed.

“I forgot to thank you for saving my life,” she said huskily, some time later.

He pulled her even closer. “Livvy, if you knew how I felt, seeing the smoke, hearing you scream . . . I ran as fast as I could, but my legs felt like
lead
. I thought I would never get there in time. A few burns are a small price to pay for having you safe in my arms now.”

She sighed, leaning against the warmth of his chest. “How
are
your hands?”

“Not bad. Haye had to help me more than he usually does.” He shook his head regretfully, but his eyes gleamed. “I am afraid I might be a bit clumsy undressing you this evening.”