A Scandalous Marriage (6 page)

“Devon, you have probably said that to a good many women.”

“But I’ve never said ”I love you‘ to a woman before.“ There. He had said it again. And this time, it didn’t shock him. This time it felt more right than it had the first time.

In fact, she was the one who needed to be convinced. Suddenly, he knew what he should do. He laced his fingers with hers and started walking toward the front of the store. She had to skip to keep up with him.

“Devon, what are you doing? Devon? Wait, if we go up there together, Mae may walk in and see us.”

“I don’t care,” he threw over his shoulder. “In fact, I’m willing to risk it. I’ll risk anything if it will make you see that I’m serious about us.”

He woke Whitney by rapping soundly on the book-covered desk. The old man blinked and frowned his objections at being forced from an enjoyable snooze. His overlong, silver gray hair stuck out every which way.

“What is it? Oh, it’s you, my lord.”

“Whitney, I need paper and pen.”

The bookseller blew his nose in a large kerchief before saying, “There it is. Corner of the desk.” He looked up at Devon expectantly, struck by an idea. “Are you going to buy something?”

“Um, yes, but first my friend needs to write a note to her maid.”

“What are you going to buy?”

“I left it on the shelf. I’ll fetch it.” He drew Leah back, away from Whitney’s hearing. “Write a note to your maid. Tell her that you ran into a friend unexpectedly and are going to spend the afternoon with her.”

“Devon, I can’t.”

“I want a fair chance, Leah. I have something to show you, and you owe me an afternoon of your time to judge for yourself what kind of man I am.”

“What do you have in mind?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’m not going to ravish you, if that is what you suspect… although the idea does have some merit.” He leaned close. “I’m going to show that I am not what people think me. A few hours. That’s all I ask, Leah.”

She studied him a moment. Then… “Help me with the note.”

“That’s my girl.” He bent his head closer to hers. “Tell your maid that you have run into an old friend—”

“Which friend?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. Mother will ask questions.”

“Well, then, whom would your mother most like you to spend time with?”

“I don’t have many friends that I can trust.”

“Certainly there is one. Think.” He pulled three books off the shelf and took them up to Whitney. “Wrap these up and have them delivered.”

“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord.”

Devon returned to Leah. “Have you thought of a name?”

“Yes, I will say I ran into Tess Hamlin and she asked me to luncheon.”

“The heiress?”

She nodded. “Mother will be ecstatic and not question too closely. After all, we do not belong to the same social circles as the Hamlins, although since Lady Dorchester’s ball, I have been receiving many invitations.”

Devon didn’t like hearing he was orchestrating her social success. However, if he convinced her, she would soon be his and no other’s. “Put down Tess Hamlin’s name then. I know her brother. He will vouch for us if it comes to that.”

Still writing, she said, “What are we planning to do?”

“You’ll see.” When she finished, he blew on the ink to dry it as he approached the bookseller. “Whitney, my friend,” he said, slipping the old gent a coin, “give this to the maid when she arrives. Tell her to deliver it to Mrs. Carrollton.”

“And shall I make up a story about this young lady going off with her friend?”

Whitney heard better than he liked to pretend.

Devon threw back his head and laughed. “Of course, Whitney, of course!” He then took Leah’s arm and steered her through the maze of bookshelves. “We shall go out the back.”

Whitney made no reply. He’d probably gone back to sleep.

As they stepped into the back room, Leah hesitated. “This is madness.” She made as if to turn around, but Devon held her fast.

“It’s an adventure,” he said.

“But someone will see us. And if they do I will be ruined.”

Devon was feeling reckless enough that he didn’t care—but he wasn’t a complete fool. Hanging from a peg by the door was an oilskin cape. “Here, put this on.” He handed it to her. It had been raining earlier, and the cape would not cause comment.

Outside in the alleyway, puddles of water dotted the rutted lane. He hurried ahead to signal a hackney cab before returning and guiding her shrouded figure to the vehicle. Within moments, they were on their way.

The cab’s coach was confining. He pulled the shades down over the windows.

She dropped the cape. “Now will you tell me where we are going?”

“No.”

She sighed, muttering something under her breath about foolishness. The sides of their legs brushed.

Devon didn’t move, but she practically jumped, as if given an electric jolt.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Leah, if my intent was merely seduction, I could have done it a half dozen times right there in Whitney’s.”

Her eyebrows came together. “What makes you so certain?”

“Well, because of this,” he replied matter-of-factly before leaning toward her. He slipped his hand around her waist. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, but hot red color rose up her neck and into her cheeks. Her heart thumped against her chest. He could hear its rapid beat.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, leaning closer until his breath brushed the sensitive point of her neck. She almost melted against him. It took all of Devon’s willpower not to give her the kiss she desired.

He pulled back.

“Oh dear,” she whispered, flustered.

Devon smiled, pleased with himself.

“But is it possible to believe you really do love me?”

For a long second, there was only the sound of the iron-rimmed wheels rolling across the cobbles. Then Devon said simply, “Yes. I love you. I will never let harm come to you.”

A small frown line formed between her eyes. She looked away.

The hack came to a stop. Devon opened the door, hopped down, and offered his hand. “Don’t worry about the oilskin. No will recognize you here. I’ll have the hack wait for us.”

Leah poked her head out the door and then drew in a sharp breath. “We’re at the wharves.”

“I’d wager you’ve never visited them.”

“No.”

“Too bad. They are the most fascinating place in London.”

As he helped her down, she stared all around, taking in the excitement of a busy business day by the waterfront. It was a good day to visit. Huge white clouds, remnants of the earlier rain, floated across the sky, blown by a seafaring breeze. In between the clouds there was an occasional patch of blue.

Everyone was out and about enjoying the good weather. Journeymen and warehouse boys rolled kegs to be loaded on the ships. Businessmen argued, and quartermasters shouted out to any passerby to “hire on.” Sailors with tarred pigtails strutted with a rolling gait, going about their business, while young clerks ran errands for their masters, weaving and dodging their way amongst those gathered to enjoy the day.

Devon tucked Leah’s hand in the crook of his arm. There were other women here and there, but Leah, with her saucy chipped straw bonnet and cream muslin skirts, stopped all traffic. Grizzled seamen and gentrified merchants stared alike with open admiration until Devon frowned. Then they’d all hurried back to their business.

The fresh air brought a bloom of color to Leah’s cheeks. “You like it here,” he said.

“Yes. I’m truly a country girl. I like clean air. I don’t even mind the smell of wet wood and fish when compared to the soot and stench in the city.” She stopped, taking in the graceful lines of a sloop moored by the wharf. “I wish I could travel on one of these ships and see Spain, where my mother was born, or Italy. I would dearly like to visit Rome.”

“Perhaps you will someday,” Devon answered. “Here.” He pulled her forward and pointed at the third ship down. “That is my ship.”

Leah stared in surprise before walking toward it, obviously impressed by the four-masted merchant ship.

She read the name on its bow.
“The Indigo.”

“She isn’t as large as most, but I sail her for spices and silk, and she’s made me a fortune,” Devon said.

Leah glanced back at him. “This is what you wanted me to see.”

“I wanted you to see that I’m
not
a pauper. Other men can spend their money on valets and clothes. I bought a ship. Not to mention that I will someday be a marquess.”

“If you inherit.”

“Oh, I’ll inherit,” Devon said easily. “Grandfather can’t disown me. But this is
mine.
The ship has been so successful, I’m buying a second.”

“They say your grandfather pays more attention to your cousin Lord Vainhope than he does to you.

Why is that, if you are the heir?”

So, she had heard that much. “I’m my own man,” he said quietly. “I’m as complete and good as Rex in every way.”

He had spoken without realizing how odd those words might sound. Fortunately, she, like everyone else, didn’t know the complete story, so she didn’t understand what he really meant. Instead she said, “Well of course you are as good as him. Even better. No one likes Lord Vainhope, and everyone likes you.”

“Except Julian,” he couldn’t resist adding.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Except Julian.”

“Come this way.” He pulled her in the direction of a warehouse. “You need to see this.”

Inside the cool darkness was row after row of kegs and stacks of burlap sacks. She sniffed the air experimentally. “What is the smell?”

“It’s a spice warehouse. I bring my cargo here. What was unloaded two days ago has already been sold.” He rested a proprietarial hand on a bag. “This is pepper. Over there, cinnamon bark.”

“It doesn’t smell the same here as it does in the kitchen.”

“Because you need to crush it to bring the flavors out.”

Leah touched the bag of pepper, wrinkling her nose from the scent of raw spice and dust. “Julian says a gentleman does not deal in trade.”

“Julian says a great many things,” Devon murmured. He wondered what she would say if she knew his other investments and holdings.

She ran her hand back and forth across the rough cloth. “You don’t agree with him.”

“Obviously.”

“Why not?”

He considered the danger of contradicting her precious brother—but, then, she had asked. “There is nothing wrong with Julian’s opinions. They are shared by many. He’s part of the old order, Leah, of a society that doesn’t see the world is changing. On the other hand, I embrace change. I believe a man must make his place in the world. It’s exciting times we live in. Revolutionary times. England rules the world, and with that rule comes opportunity, new ideas. Inventions! Why, Leah, I have seen designs for new mechanics that will change even the way we travel from one place to another. Roads won’t be needed.”

“Roads? We’ll always need roads.”

“And lights. We won’t need candles.”

“You must have candles!”

“Leah, there are already streets with gaslights, and someday, there will be gaslights in our own sitting room. Some homes already have them. I’ve dined in them.”

“I’ve never dined in a house like that.”

“You have to leave the Marriage Mart and the narrow thinking of the ton to find houses with gaslights.”

He shook his head. “A wise man is one who involves himself in what will be the future. I’m happy to let men like my cousin Rex and Julian worry about the past. I’m building an empire of my own.”

Leah somberly considered his words. People milled around them, occupied with their own concerns, but Devon scarcely noticed them. He centered on her: Her opinion seemed important to him.

Her lips twisted thoughtfully. “I think I like your view of the world better than Julian’s,” she said at last.

“He is always so angry. Perhaps each of us. should search for our own happiness. To be bold and not afraid of change. But I don’t like revolutions,” she admitted candidly. “However, I think you are happier than my brother, who spends his time gaming and drinking.”

If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would have tumbled head over heels in that moment.

She smiled at him, almost as if she could read his approval. A glint of anticipation appeared in her eyes.

“Now, my lord merchant, where do you hide your silks?”

He laughed. “Spoken like a woman. The silks are next door up the stairs on the first floor. That way, if there is flooding, they are safe. Come, I’ll show them to you.”

Unfortunately, the door to the silks was locked. The warehouse manager had left on errands. Leah was obviously disappointed.

“I wanted to see the silks. Are they lovely?”

“Exquisite,” he answered as they marched down the stairs.

“Will the warehouse manager be back?”

“Perhaps. But we can’t linger. Not if I am going to return you home without rousing suspicion.” He started walking toward the hack, but she didn’t come. “Leah?”

She was looking up at the building. “Do those upper windows go all around?” She didn’t wait for his answer but charged toward the corner of the warehouse.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, following.

She glanced right and left to see if they were alone. This side faced another warehouse with only a walkway in between. “I could peek in that window up there if you’d give me a leg up.”

“A leg up? You’re not serious.”

She began taking off her shoes. “I have my secrets too, my lord. Why, I’m the best tree climber in all Nottinghamshire.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, Julian and William could never keep up with me.” Her eyes danced with excitement. “Come along, Huxhold, be adventurous.”

He laughed to have his own words turned on him. “We have no trees here.”

“Of course not. I’m going to climb you.”

Now she had his attention. Intrigued, he made a step with his hands. She placed her stocking foot in it, knocked off his hat, and climbed up on his shoulders with the balance of a trained acrobat.

Devon pushed her skirts aside with his nose. He stood very still lest she fall. He faced the opposite warehouse; she faced the windows.