Sheri Cobb South (20 page)

“You may wish I had opted for the governess’s post when you hear what a fix I am in,” she confessed. “Lord Waverly has the necklace, and he plans to use it to blackmail me. He has some notion of using it to convince you that he and I are lovers.”

“It would take a great deal more than a trinket to make me believe that—or to make me wish you’d become a governess,” he assured her.

“Yes, but there is no saying what he might do now, for I only made matters worse by slapping him, and—”

“You slapped Lord Waverly?” Mr. Brundy’s dark eyes glittered dangerously. “And what did he do to you, that you were brought to such a pass?”

Lady Helen swallowed hard. “He called you a ba— a ba—”

“A what?” asked Mr. Brundy, all at sea.

“No lady can speak the word, Mr. Brundy!” she protested, blushing crimson.

Enlightenment dawned, and Mr. Brundy’s ire gave way to amusement. “You can ‘ardly strike a man for speaking the truth, ‘elen,” he pointed out reasonably.

“Oh?” challenged Lady Helen, every inch the duke’s daughter. “Can I not?”

“Remind me never to provoke you to wrath, me dear,” said Mr. Brundy, utterly enthralled by the discovery that his wife had been moved to violence over a supposed slight to his honor. “We’ll deal with Waverly momentarily, but first we must rescue your brother before ‘e loses ‘is shirt—or mine,” he added darkly, “ ‘e’s downstairs playing cards with the earl, you know.”

“But we can’t get out. Lord Waverly locked me in.”

“Then we’ll get out the same way I got in,” replied Mr. Brundy, striding back to the window.

“I can hardly climb down in a ball gown!” protested Lady Helen as her husband disappeared behind the curtains.

“You’ll ‘ave to jump for it, me dear,” his voice came floating back to her.

“
Jump?
”

“Never fear, I’ll catch you.”

Lady Helen wavered between the fear of injury and the need to be near her husband before the latter won, and she looked out the window. Mr. Brundy had reached the ground safely and now stood on the sidewalk directly below, holding out his arms to receive her. She took a deep breath, then sat down on the window sill, gathered up her skirts, and swung her legs out, unintentionally treating her appreciative husband to the sight of slender white-stockinged calves tied at the knee with satin garters.

“Here I come,” she called, and pushed herself off.

As Lady Helen was rather tall, perhaps she weighed more than Mr. Brundy had expected, or perhaps he was momentarily distracted by the enchanting view afforded him. At any rate, he did indeed catch Lady Helen, but the force of her descent all but knocked him to the pavement, and the jolt caused his injured head to throb anew.

Lady Helen, tugging at the skirts which had by this time bunched up over her knees, saw him wince. “Oh, dear! Your head must ache dreadfully.”

“Not at all,” he lied, setting her on her feet.

He untied his coat from about his waist and shrugged it back on, then drew his wife’s hand through his arm and strode boldly up the stairs to knock at the earl’s front door.

“Are you sure this is wise, Mr. Brundy?” asked Lady Helen.

“Chin up, me dear,” he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as they waited for the butler to answer. “We’ll come about all right.”

A moment later they were ushered into the drawing room by a curiously dressed butler who had by this time abandoned all expectation of slumber.

“Mr. Ethan Brundy and Lady Helen Brundy,” he announced woodenly.

As Mr. Brundy had predicted, the earl and the viscount sat playing cards before a hastily lit fire. A half-filled brandy decanter occupied one corner of the card table and a glass sat at each player’s elbow, although the viscount’s appeared to be untouched. The pile of guineas before the earl’s place, Mr. Brundy noted wryly, testified that young Tisdale had taken his brother-in-law’s blessing to heart.

At the announcement of the new arrivals, the viscount’s face registered patent relief. Lord Waverly, however, was not so pleased. A singularly ugly expression ever so briefly darkened his handsome countenance before his face assumed a mask of icy politeness.

“Why, Mr. Brundy, I must confess I had never pictured you in the rôle of romantic hero,” he drawled. “I must say you wear it surprisingly well—a pity the same cannot be said for that coat.”

Mr. Brundy made no response to this statement, but addressed the earl just as if he were paying a morning call. “Good evening, your lordship, or should I say good morning? I ‘ate to bother you at this hour, but me wife is convinced you ‘ave in your possession a necklace which she lost tonight at Lady Randall’s ball.”

The earl’s face registered incredulity.   “Lady Helen
lost
her necklace? I realize how this must pain you, Mr. Brundy, but the lady presented it to me just this evening as a token of her, shall we say, affection.”

“This is news, indeed!” said Mr. Brundy, turning to his wife in feigned surprise, “ ‘ave you any affection for Lord Waverly, me dear?”

“None whatsoever,” stated Lady Helen in no uncertain terms.

“There you are,” Mr. Brundy addressed his host. “An unfortunate misunderstanding, per’aps, but no real ‘arm done. If you’ll return the necklace to me wife, we’ll impose no longer on your ‘ospitality.”

Lord Waverly withdrew the necklace from his coat pocket and laid it before him on the card table. “I have a better idea,” he said with great deliberation. “I say it was a gift; Lady Helen says it was not. Since it is a matter of my word against hers, we shall settle it in the only fair way. I shall play you for it, Mr. Brundy.”

“Done,” said Mr. Brundy without hesitation.

Lady Helen gave an audible gasp.

The earl idly shuffled the deck of cards on the table before him. “Have you a preference of game?”

“I’ve recently conceived a fondness for piquet,” confessed Mr. Brundy, with a secret smile for his wife.

“Don’t do it, Mr. Brundy,” pleaded Lady Helen, who had not forgotten her husband’s abysmal performance in Lancashire. “Let him keep the necklace and say what he will. ‘Tis doubtful anyone will take him seriously, in any case.”

“There I must disagree, me dear,” said Mr. Brundy, with steel in his voice. “When someone tries first to blackmail and then to slander me wife, I take it very seriously indeed.”

“In that case, you have only to name your stake, Mr. Brundy,” Lord Waverly said. “But what will it be? To be brutally honest, I can’t think of anything you have that I would want.”

“I can think of one, but I’ve a fancy to keep ‘er,” said Mr. Brundy, glancing at his wife.   “I’ve a cotton mill, though, just north of Manchester—”

“No!” cried Lady Helen, flinging her arms about his neck. “Not your mill, Mr. Brundy, you mustn’t! I won’t let you!”

“You
won’t let me,
‘elen?” echoed Mr. Brundy, gently but firmly disengaging himself from his wife’s embrace. “I should ‘ate for us to ‘ave our first quarrel right ‘ere in front of ‘is lordship.”

“But—but if you should lose your mill—”

“I’ve not lost anything yet,” pointed out Mr. Brundy, ever the voice of reason. “Theodore, take your sister ‘ome and stay with ‘er until I return.”

The viscount, who had been listening to the exchange up to this point with wide eyes and a slackened jaw, sprang to life. “Yes, sir!”

But Lady Helen refused to be budged. “I won’t leave you!” she declared, clinging to her husband’s arm.

“And very nervous I would be, with you watching over me shoulder to make sure I played me cards right,” he replied. “Lord Waverly, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll see me wife on ‘er way ‘ome.”

Lord Waverly sketched an elaborate bow.   “I await your convenience, Mr. Brundy.”

“Come, me dear.” Mr. Brundy put his arm about his wife’s shoulders and propelled her toward the door, leaving the viscount to bring up the rear. Outside, Tisdale climbed into his curricle and took the reins, and Mr. Brundy handed Lady Helen up beside him.

“Please,
please
don’t play Lord Waverly,” she implored, clutching at his sleeve.

“I must, ‘elen.”

“But what if—”

“Buck up, me dear. I’ll be ‘ome soon.”

“I love you, Mr. Brundy,” blurted out Lady Helen.

Mr. Brundy looked at her for a long moment, then picked up one of the cold hands gripping his sleeve and carried it to his lips.

“Then whether I win or lose, I’ll still be the richest man in England,” he said, and gave the viscount the signal to drive on.

* * * *

He watched the departing curricle until darkness swallowed up the pale oval of his wife’s face, then turned back toward the house and found Lord Waverly observing the proceedings from the portico.

“A vastly touching scene,” drawled the earl. “I wonder if she will feel the same when you return to her destitute.”

“I’m sure you would love to find out,” remarked Mr. Brundy, following Waverly back into the house.

“Alas, I fear I already know the answer,” said the earl with a sigh. “Lady Helen’s standards have slipped sadly since her marriage. I cannot feel you to have been a good influence on her.”

Mr. Brundy bowed his appreciation. “Coming from you, me lord, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was not intended as such, believe me.”

Mr. Brundy assumed the viscount’s vacated seat, and the two men faced each other across the card table, the jaded debauchery of the old order against the brash vitality of the new.

“Drink up, Mr. Brundy,” instructed the earl, pouring a glass of brandy for his guest. “It has been a long evening.”

“Would it contain ‘emlock, by any chance?”

“Alas, no. I had none, nor arsenic neither. Believe me, had I known I would have the pleasure of entertaining you, Mr. Brundy, I should have been better prepared.”

Mr. Brundy had no fears of being poisoned, but he had no doubt the earl would not hesitate to try and drink him under the table. Tempting though it might be to let the potent liquid deaden the throbbing ache in his head, he had no intention of letting liquor cloud his judgment. His wife, between her poker and her parting words, had clouded it quite enough already.

“I understand ‘elen was a bit overeager in me defense,” remarked Mr. Brundy as the cards were cut and dealt. “I trust you’ll not ‘old it against ‘er.”

“Not at all,” Lord Waverly assured him smoothly. “I admire a woman of spirit.”

“Aye, so do I. But I’m afraid you’ll ‘ave to find your own, Waverly. ‘elen is already married—to me.”

“Married? Purchased, more like!” spat the earl.

“Forgive me, but I’m a bit slow tonight,” said Mr. Brundy, kneading the lump on his head. “Do you despise me for me money, or me wife?”

One eyebrow arched toward Waverly’s hairline. “My good fellow, had you not married Lady Helen Radney, I would never have deigned to notice you at all.”

Mr. Brundy nodded in understanding. “ ‘Tis me wife, then. I can ‘ardly blame you. I’ve no doubt I should feel the same about you, ‘ad she married you instead.”

Each man having arranged his cards to his satisfaction, the first stage of play, the calling, began.

“Five,” declared the earl, and awaited his opponent’s response.

“Good,” said Mr. Brundy with a sigh, and Waverly scored the points.

“Four,” Waverly continued.

Mr. Brundy inspected the cards in his hand and replied, “Equal.”

“Do you really think so, Mr. Brundy?” sneered the earl. “To be sure, some may argue that you have belied the old adage and made a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, but alas, a sow’s ear, in whatever form, is still a sow’s ear.”

Mr. Brundy felt compelled to object. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake, me lord. I’m in cotton, not silk.”

“Make no mistake about this, Mr. Brundy,” said the earl with great deliberation, peering malevolently over his cards. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to toss you back into the gutter from whence you sprang.”

“Then you’d best mind your play,” recommended Mr. Brundy, scoring the point.

This the earl did, and took the next three tricks, scoring a point for each.

“I shan’t know what to do with a cotton mill,” he remarked at length. “It would never do for a Waverly to soil himself with Trade. Should I sell it, do you think, or shall I dismantle it brick by brick as an example to ambitious weavers who don’t know their station?”

His opponent merely shrugged. “Provided you win, me lord, that decision will be entirely up to you. Still, if you care for ‘elen at all, I wonder at your eagerness to reduce ‘er to penury.”

“Fear not, Mr. Brundy. Lady Helen will not go begging, I assure you.”

Mr. Brundy, pinning the earl with a look, did not pretend to mistake his meaning. “Not while there’s breath in me body.”

And so it went, through six hands. Mr. Brundy’s head pounded mercilessly, making concentration difficult. By the time the last trick was taken, he had long since lost any feel for who might be leading. Not until the points were totaled would he know whether or not the mill was still his.

“Do you wish to tally the points, me lord, or shall I?” he asked.

“By all means, go ahead,” said the earl, bowing his acquiescence. “You will no doubt wish to see the task completed quickly so that you may hurry home to comfort your wife, and since you work with figures daily, you are no doubt more adept at the skill. A gentleman, as you may have heard, leaves such mundane tasks to his steward.”

“Then I ‘ope, for your sake, that your steward is a man you can trust,” replied Mr. Brundy, and set to work with pen and paper. A few moments later he laid the pen aside and pushed the paper across the table for the earl’s perusal.

As Lord Waverly surveyed the sums at the bottom of the sheet, his face grew dark with impotent fury. “I don’t believe it!”

“Shall I ‘ave the butler summon your steward?” offered Mr. Brundy.

Ignoring this suggestion, the earl picked up the pen and, despite his professed lack of practice, soon arrived at the same conclusion.

“Take it!” he snarled, hurling the diamond necklace across the table at his opponent. “And may you rot in hell with it!”

“I should not dream of intruding upon you there,” replied Mr. Brundy, bowing deeply from the waist. Then he pocketed the diamonds and quitted the room.