Sheri Cobb South (19 page)

“You did not seem to welcome my, er, attentions, my dear. I had to ask myself why, and the only logical conclusion I could reach—although to call it ‘logical’ might be to put too fine a point on it—is that you have fallen in love with your weaver.”

Lady Helen made no reply, but the glint in her eyes and the sudden lift of her chin told the earl all he needed to know.

“Shockingly bad
ton,
falling in love with one’s spouse, but aside from that, it really is too ludicrous for words. Lady Helen Radney, the Ice Princess, melted at last. And by whom? A workhouse bastard!”

Lord Waverly had not expected to meet with violence, least of all at the hand of the icy daughter of the duke of Reddington, and so Lady Helen’s slap all but separated his head from his neck.

“You will regret that, my dear,” he swore, rubbing his abused cheek. “So long as I have this trinket in my possession, I have the power to make you regret it very much. I wonder what our weaver would think if I were to wear this bauble as a lover’s token? I could always hang it from my watch chain like a fob. Rather gaudy, I fear, but surely no worse than your esteemed husband’s taste in cravat pins.”

Lady Helen shrugged. “I don’t know that he would care,” she said with quite creditable nonchalance. “Since you have guessed my feelings for my husband, I must confess that I have no idea whether or not they are reciprocated. It is very lowering to admit it, but for all I know, he may be completely indifferent to me.”

“If he is indifferent to you, my dear, then his lack of breeding is the least of his deficiencies. But cast your mind back to Covent Garden, and set your mind at ease. If it escaped your notice that your Mr. Brundy spent the better part of the second act gazing at you through his quizzing glass, I can only say that it did not escape mine. No, I do not think our besotted bridegroom would accept with equanimity the discovery that his bride of barely one month has already taken a lover.”

Lady Helen’s eyes narrowed. “All right, Waverly. What do you want?”

The earl stroked his chin, apparently wrestling with indecision. “Do you know, I cannot for the life of me decide. Do I want your own fair person, or your husband’s fat purse? Fortunately, I see no reason why I cannot have both.”

“I think you had best explain yourself.”

“You know that I have for some time coveted, shall we say, a more intimate acquaintance with you. I think now you will be more receptive to the idea—so receptive, in fact, that you would not be unwilling to reward me monetarily from time to time for making you the object of my affections. In return, I shall keep this bauble locked securely in my safe, where your Mr. Brundy need never be distressed by it.”

“I am afraid you are fair and far off, my lord. I have already told my brother I will not bleed my husband dry for his sake, and you may be doubly sure I will not do so for yours.”

“Ah, but if you wish to remain in your husband’s good graces, you had best rethink your position. I am sure we could—” He broke off abruptly as a knock sounded on the door. “Now, who the devil might that be?”

He strode impatiently to the study door and flung it open to reveal the butler, his coat and trousers thrown on hastily over his nightshirt. If he was at all surprised to see his master entertaining a young and unescorted woman at an hour long past that accepted for receiving callers, he certainly gave no sign.

“Begging your pardon, my lord,” the butler intoned, “but Viscount Tisdale is below, and insists upon seeing your lordship.”

“Ah, the brave rescuer, I have no doubt,” said the earl to Lady Helen before turning back to his servant. “Very well, you may show young Galahad to the drawing room. I shall wait upon him directly.”

“Very good, sir.” The butler departed, leaving Lord Waverly alone with Lady Helen.

“Duty calls,” he remarked with a heavy sigh. “Much as I hate to leave you, my dear, perhaps it is for the best. Some quiet contemplation might make you more inclined to listen to reason.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Lady Helen resolutely, following the earl to the door.

Lord Waverly was in the corridor by this time, but he turned back to address his captive through the crack in the door. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mrs. Brundy. You see, I always keep my valuables under lock and key.”

Lady Helen sprang for the door, but Waverly was too swift for her. He shut the door just as she reached it, and a moment later she heard the click of the key turning in the lock.

Imprisoned in the study, she paced back and forth in helpless frustration, all the while keeping her clenched fists pressed tightly to her mouth. No matter how desperate her situation, she was determined not to give Lord Waverly the satisfaction of hearing her pound on the door or scream for help.

She knew her brother was downstairs working to effect her release, but too late she realized the futility of pitting a mere boy against a man of Lord Waverly’s cunning. No, her instincts had been right: she should have confessed the whole to Mr. Brundy while she had the chance. It seemed that she was destined to lose his good opinion in any case.

These melancholy thoughts were interrupted by a scratching sound emitting from behind the green velvet draperies as someone struggled to gain admittance to the house through the upper-story window. Far from being afraid, Lady Helen actually welcomed the opportunity of working off her pent-up energy on a housebreaker. After an evening of listening to the earl’s veiled threats, dealing with a common criminal should be a simple enough undertaking. She crossed swiftly to the fireplace and seized the poker, then positioned herself before the window, her weapon hoisted high over her head.

* * * *

Theodore, Viscount Tisdale, had had a bad feeling about this undertaking from the start, and never more so than when he watched his sister disappear into the bowels of Lord Waverly’s darkened town house. As he awaited her return, the minutes seemed to crawl by, until he had no very clear idea of how long she had been gone. He had begun to debate the wisdom of going in after her when one of the upper-story windows suddenly blazed to life.

“Confound it, Nell, wouldn’t a candle have been sufficient?” muttered the viscount under his breath.

A moment later, a shadow passed before the window, a shadow too tall and broad-shouldered to belong to his sister. Lady Helen, it seemed, had been discovered. He knew that, according to his sister’s plan, he was supposed to come in search of her, but he realized now that such a plan had been doomed from the start. He was no more Waverly’s equal at thievery than he had been at hazard. No, there was one far more capable than he of rescuing Lady Helen from her predicament—the one to whom they should have turned in the first place. Abandoning all thoughts of entering the earl’s house, young Tisdale whipped up his horses and set out at a gallop for Grosvenor Square.

Drawing up before his sister’s house, the viscount sprang down from his carriage, took the front steps two at a time, and began to pound on the door as if the Furies were at his heels. A moment later, the door was opened by Jennings, who, flushed with success from his first night as a valet, was still awake.

“Where is Mr. Brundy?” demanded the viscount.

“At this hour? He’s in his bed asleep,” returned the stunned valet.

“Well, wake him! I must see him at once!”

Jennings hesitated. “He might have my job if I do,” he faltered.

“He’ll have your head if you don’t!” the viscount informed him roundly. “Now, are you going to wake him, or shall I do it myself?”

“I’m going! I’m going!”

Leaving young Tisdale in the hall, the fledgling valet mounted the stairs with the air of one approaching the guillotine.

“Hurry, man!” commanded the viscount.

Jennings accordingly picked up his pace, and a moment later Mr. Brundy descended the stairs, breeches and a dressing gown thrown hastily over his nightshirt. His hair was tousled and his eyes heavy from sleep.

“ ‘ullo, Tisdale, what’s toward?” he asked his brother-in-law.

The viscount wasted little time on pleasantries. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but you must know. Lord Waverly has got Nell.”

“You’ve been dreaming, Theodore. ‘elen is sound asleep in ‘er own room. Believe me, I know,” he added cryptically.

“I tell you, she isn’t! I drove her to Waverly’s house myself!”

Mr. Brundy was awake on the instant, all trace of weariness vanished. “What maggot got into your ‘ead, that you would—? No, don’t answer that. Come upstairs, and you can tell me while I get dressed.”

“Will you be needing my help, sir?” volunteered Jennings.

“No, take yourself back to bed—and if anyone asks, you slept soundly all night long.”

Upstairs, Lord Tisdale gave a full account—interrupted by frequent apologies—of the circumstances which had led to his sister’s entering the earl’s house, while Mr. Brundy exchanged his dressing gown for a coat and waistcoat, and knotted a cravat carelessly about his neck.

“So you lost five ‘undred pounds at ‘azard,” he concluded at the end of the viscount’s speech. “Tell me, Theodore, were you playing against orphans, by any chance?”

“Orphans?” echoed the viscount, all at sea.

Mr. Brundy shook his head.  “Never mind. Just take me to Waverly’s ‘ouse and stall ‘is lordship while I get ‘elen.”

“Yes, sir!” said the viscount, who recognized the voice of authority when he heard it. “How am I to do that?”

“Get ‘im to play cards. Lose as much as you please with me blessing, only keep Waverly busy!”

A short time later, Mr. Brundy watched from the shadows as his brother-in-law was admitted to Lord Waverly’s house before stepping back into the street to study the upstairs window, where a light still burned. He shrugged off his baggy coat and knotted the sleeves around his waist—an act which would have reduced Messrs. Schweitzer and Davidson to tears, had it been perpetrated on one of their own masterpieces—then nimbly scaled the pilastered column nearest the front door to a tiny rounded balcony which formed the roof of the portico. Having achieved this objective, he flattened himself against the wall and inched along the narrow ledge fronting the house until he reached the lighted window. He then tried the lower sash and, finding it unlocked, pushed it up and crawled inside into a tangle of green velvet curtains. He was in the act of straightening up when something struck his skull with the force of a hammer. Stars exploded in his head, and he sagged against the curtains. They parted as if on cue and, deprived of this minimal support, he landed heavily on the carpet.

“Dear God!” came a woman’s agonized cry. “I’ve killed him!”

Chapter 14

Patience, and shuffle the cards.

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES,
Don Quixote de la Mancha

Dimly, through the pain in his head, Mr. Brundy recognized Lady Helen’s voice, and wondered with detached curiosity whose death might have driven her to such despair. Before his overtaxed brain could supply an answer to this question, however, he slipped into delirium. In this befuddled state, he labored under the pleasant delusion that his abused head was cradled against his wife’s bosom, and that she stroked his hair with gentle fingers. If this was dementia, he decided, there was much to be said in its favor. Hesitantly, lest the illusion vanish, he opened one eye.

“ ‘elen?” he uttered thickly.

Far from disappearing, the vision gave a little gasp, and the green eyes regarded him with something approaching tenderness. “Oh, Mr. Brundy! Are you all right?”

“Never better,” he assured her, smiling groggily through the pain. Reluctantly disengaging himself from his wife’s arms, he held one hand to his throbbing head where a lump was already beginning to form.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was you—I didn’t expect you.”

“I ‘adn’t planned on dropping in.”

With this simple observation, the evils of Lady Helen’s situation were forcibly borne in upon her. She rose to her feet, hugging arms which seemed strangely empty now that her husband no longer reposed there. “Yes, you—you must wonder how I came to be here—” she stammered, studying the Axminster carpet with great interest. “I can explain—”

Mr. Brundy held up a hand to forestall her. “Spare me any more explanations, I beg you! I’ve ‘eard more than enough from your brother already.”

“Oh,” said Lady Helen in a small voice. “You must be shocked and—and disgusted.”

“Indeed, I am!” he answered in tones of revulsion. “If your brother can’t ‘old ‘is own against a bunch of orphans, ‘e’d best leave off playing ‘azard altogether!”

Recognizing her own lie, Lady Helen hung her head. “You know it all, then. Still, I’m glad you came for the necklace, for Lord Waverly refuses to give it to me.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, me dear.  I didn’t come for the necklace.”

Up came Lady Helen’s head. “You didn’t?”

“No, ‘elen, I came for me wife.”

His tone was gentle, not accusing, and Lady Helen, who despised displays of excessive sensibility, was obliged to turn away so that he might not see her trembling lower lip and rapidly filling eyes.

“I do not deserve kindness at your hand, Mr. Brundy. I have used you abominably.”

“Now, what’s all this?” he chided gently as his fingers closed over her white shoulders.  “ ‘Tis only me ‘ead, and it’s ‘ard enough.” Receiving no answer save a stifled sob, he cut to the heart of the matter. “ ‘elen, why didn’t you tell me you needed the five ‘undred pounds for your brother’s gambling debts?”

“I wanted to, truly I did,” she confessed. “I hated lying to you, but I—I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth.”

“In fact, I couldn’t be trusted not to bear tales to the Dook,” concluded Mr. Brundy.

This assumption was so glaringly abroad that she turned to face him in surprise. “No! That wasn’t the way of it at all!”

“You didn’t think I would give you such a sum?”

“That wasn’t it, either. I didn’t want to ask you for it because I—I couldn’t bear for you to think that I had married you only for your money.”

As that fact had been abundantly plain from the day he had first received permission to address her, Mr. Brundy had to smile at her distress. “Is that all? ‘elen, why should I believe such a thing, when I ‘ad it on good authority that you wed me because you found me preferable—but only slightly!—to ‘iring yourself out as a governess or a paid companion?”