Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] (21 page)

“Liza will come home when she has done with her sulks,” he retorted ruthlessly. “Now, ma’am, I do not want to ask you again. Tell me at once.”

“Very well,” Miss Abby said with a watery sniff, “but Miranda will be so dreadfully vexed with me, and I am sure I cannot blame her in the least this time.”

K
EENLY AWARE OF THE
porter’s fascinated gaze, Justin hustled his reluctant relative into the central stair hall and shut the door. When she would have gone upstairs, however, he stopped her with a touch.

“One moment, Aunt Abby. Before we go to Miss Devon-Poole, I want a full explanation of all this, if you please.”

“But I don’t please,” she protested. “Oh, not at all! Moreover, my dear, we mustn’t leave her alone a moment longer than necessary. So rude, you know. I am wholly conscious of that, but when our maid, Mary, quite fortunately saw your carriage from the window, she told me, knowing that Miss Devon-Poole had said she was to meet you here, and I knew I must speak to you before—”

“You left Miss Devon-Poole all alone up there?”

“Not
all
alone, for her maid is with her, of course,” Miss Abby said indignantly. “She is not likely to wander about, in any case, Justin. She is far too well bred to do that, and anyway, there is no one else here, now that Lady Wi—” She clapped a hand to her mouth, silencing herself.

“Lady who?” Justin demanded, his temper fraying rapidly.

“Miranda said not to name names,” Miss Abby said virtuously. “Moreover, we simply must go up to her—to Miss Devon-Poole, that is—because really, it is quite dreadfully rude to leave her kicking her heels whilst we chat, my dear.”

“Chat!” Justin struggled with increasing exasperation but sternly resisted an urge to strangle the old lady. Lowering his voice, he said, “I will endeavor to smooth things over with Miss Devon-Poole, but you and I—and Aunt Miranda, too—are going to have a very long talk, ma’am, before any of us is much older.”

“Are we, my dear? How … How very pleasant that will be.”

She did not sound as if she thought it would be pleasant at all, however, so Justin said nothing more. He simply followed in her wake when she turned away and hurried up the stairs.

At the landing they met the orange cat, apparently strolling in search of Miss Abby, for it hastened its pace when it saw her.

She scooped it up and began to stroke it, murmuring, “Everything will be quite all right, Clemmy. You will see, my dear. Miranda will be vexed, but she will make things right again, I’m sure.”

When they passed through the rose-filled anteroom into the smaller drawing room, they found Miss Devon-Poole sitting by a window. Fashionably dressed in a pale pink challis gown, she was gazing thoughtfully out at the gloomy day.

Her companion sat stiffly erect in a straight-back chair against the wall opposite the doorway.

At their entrance, Miss Devon-Poole turned, exclaiming, “My goodness me, my lord, there you are! I thought you were never coming, sir.”

“Forgive me,” Justin said, striding forward when she arose from her chair. “I am a villain to have kept you waiting.”

“But, my goodness me, why did you want to meet here? And why were you not here before me? I expected you to be, you know, to introduce me to your aunts, only, of course, Miss Frome is alone here just now. But she was not expecting me, sir. You ought at least to have warned them I was coming.”

He felt tempted to ask why she had come instead of sending him a civil reminder that she was unacquainted with either Mrs. Linford or Miss Frome. He suspected he would not relish the answer, however, so he held his tongue.

Fortunately, before his silence became noticeable, Miss Abby, still stroking the cat, threw herself into the breach. “Warned us of what, my dear Miss Devon-Poole? I am sure we should be delighted any time you deigned to pay us a call. As you say, though, my sister is not here presently, so perhaps another time might have been more convenient. However—”

“Don’t try to polish this apple, Aunt Abby,” Justin said with a sigh. “Miss Devon-Poole deserves the truth, I believe, distasteful as it is to me to reveal it.”

Miss Abby frowned. “I am sure you know best, my dear, but are you quite sure you know the truth? In my experience, it quite frequently turns out to be something else altogether.”

“I am as sure as I can be.” Smiling ruefully at Miss Devon-Poole, he said, “I believe we can lay the blame for this mix-up at my scapegrace brother’s door. I had occasion several days ago to speak sharply to him, and this is not the first time he has repaid me for such a thing by playing some stupid boy’s prank.”

“Prank, sir?” Miss Devon-Poole arched her eyebrows. “My goodness me, but I have done nothing to make him play pranks on me.”

“No, of course you have not, and I sincerely apologize to you for this. I can assure you that it will not happen again.”

She simpered. “As to that, my lord, I cannot pretend that I was prodigiously displeased to receive the invitation.”

A tiny chill formed in the pit of Justin’s stomach. He saw his great-aunt’s mouth drop open comically and feared she was accurately reading Miss Devon-Poole’s mind. The chit clearly had decided, either because of his brother’s stupid prank or from some other, earlier cause, that the wealthiest man in London wanted to marry her.

An unwelcome gremlin at the back of his mind reminded him that he had once—quite long ago—judged her the perfect woman to be his wife. Telling himself it would serve as an excellent lesson to him never to make decisions before he had gathered all the facts, he exerted himself to remain courteous.

“I daresay your carriage is in the mews,” he said, moving to ring the bell. “Jackson can send someone to tell your coachman you are ready to depart.”

Miss Abby said politely, “Oh, must you go so soon?” Then, when Justin caught her eye, she added hastily, “But of course you must. What a mix-up, to be sure! Justin will read Ned a dreadful scold for this, I promise you.”

“My goodness me, Miss Frome, but it is not so bad as that. I had the pleasure of meeting you, at all events, so now when we meet at Lady Sellafield’s dinner party, we will not be strangers. I quite count that an advantage, don’t you?”

“To be sure, my dear,” Miss Abby said, casting another look at Justin.

Fortunately, Jackson arrived just then in response to Justin’s ring.

Justin said, “Miss Devon-Poole is leaving, Jackson. Send a lad to order her coach to the door, will you?”

“Yes, my lord. I told them to take it round to the back. Won’t be a minute, sir. Oh, and Mrs. Linford came in some five minutes ago,” he added. “She was just going to take off her coat and join you here.”

Gritting his teeth, Justin said, “Miss Devon-Poole will wait for her, then.”

“Yes, indeed,” Miss Devon-Poole said. “I want to meet
all
your relatives.”

“I thought as much,” he murmured.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Again, Miss Abby stepped into the silence. “Would you like to pet Clemmy, Miss Devon-Poole? He is quite friendly, I promise you.”

“I am sure he is, ma’am. I can hear him purring.” Obediently, she stroked the cat, which ignored her with a haughtiness unmatched by any human.

Mrs. Linford came in a few moments later. “Well, now, isn’t this nice,” she said with her customary dignity and poise when Justin presented Miss Devon-Poole. “Do forgive my tardiness, dear. Justin neglected to warn me that you were coming.”

“Oh, I know, ma’am,” Miss Devon-Poole said cheerfully. “We have already scolded him roundly, but as it happens it was not his fault.”

“No?” Mrs. Linford looked expectantly at Justin.

“Ned’s notion of a prank, ma’am.” He explained briefly.

“I see. How naughty of him. Nonetheless, it has been pleasant to meet you, Miss Devon-Poole. You must call again one day.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you. You are coming with me, are you not, sir?”

“I will see you to your carriage, of course, but then I must return,” Justin said. “I have business to discuss with my aunts.”

She pouted but did not argue the point.

When he returned, he saw at once that Miss Abby had opened the budget, for Mrs. Linford was looking severe.

Shutting the door to the anteroom, he said, “Now, my dears, I want to know exactly what is going on here.”

Mrs. Linford raised her chin. “I do not see how our affairs concern you.”

“Since Aunt Abby told me that consorting with an unmarried young woman here goes against your rules, I think it concerns me very much,” he said grimly. “She also mentioned patrons. I am not a fool, ma’am. Moreover, I have heard occasional whispers about a house of convenience in Mayfair. Is this that house?”

Faced with such a direct question, Mrs. Linford winced but did not look away. After a long moment, she said, “Dear me, do you think Ned knows? Is that why he sent that young woman here, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I promise you, I will find out.”

“Please do. I do not like to speak against your brother, but he is something of a prattlebox, I fear. Having managed to protect our reputations these twenty years and more, I’d think it a pity to have it all come out now through his carelessness.”

“Have you gone mad?”

Stiffly she said, “I beg your pardon?”

“You have practically admitted that you are running a house of ill repute, ma’am, and now you say that you have been doing so for twenty years?”

He waited for her to deny the accusation, which was an outrageous one, to say the least.

Instead, to his dismay, she said, “I should not call it a house of ill repute, exactly, Justin. Your first definition was more nearly the correct one.”

“We generally call it
une maison de tolérance,”
Miss Abby said earnestly. “In the French fashion, you know.”

The phrase instantly brought Letitia to mind. He would have to sort this mess out quickly, before she learned that her inheritance could destroy her reputation and force her to resign her position at court. He could not allow that.

“I will have to stop this, you know,” he said quietly.

Miss Abby cocked her head. “Miranda, can he do that? He would spoil everything for us!”

Mrs. Linford was regarding Justin with what seemed to him, under the circumstances, to be an unnatural calm. She said, “I do not think you can, you know. We are breaking no laws, you see, and we do not answer to you.”

“I am sure you must be breaking at least one or two laws, Aunt Miranda. And even if you are not—”

“Even if we are,” she interjected with that same unnerving calm, “you will find the authorities quite uninterested, Justin. Too many of their superiors take advantage of our service, you see, to want us to stop.”

“That’s quite true,” Miss Abby agreed.

“But you simply cannot do things like this!”

“Why not?” Miss Abby asked, but both ladies regarded him with identical quizzical looks.

Sighing, he said, “If you don’t understand, I don’t know how to explain it to you, but not only am I sure that it must be against some law or other, it’s just plain wrong. Persons of your quality simply don’t allow illicit activities to go on inside their houses.”

“But it is you who don’t understand, Justin,” Miss Abby said. “Persons of quite the highest quality seek out our service.”

“Nonetheless you must stop it at once,” he said firmly.

“Quite impossible,” Mrs. Linford said.

“Yes, quite,” Miss Abby agreed. “We could not think of it, my dear.”

“Nonsense, you must!”

Drawing herself up, Mrs. Linford said austerely, “Pray, do not excite yourself so, Justin. We know exactly what we are doing. So long as you can button Master Edward Delahan’s lips, we have nothing to fear.”

“Nothing to fear? You
have
lost your minds!” The words came out much more sharply than he had intended; so sharply, in fact, that the cat leapt from Miss Abby’s arms and dashed under a sofa.

“Oh, now see what you have done,” Miss Abby exclaimed. “You have frightened poor Clemmy.”

“Never mind that. I tell you, you must stop this nonsense. Why did you ever begin it?”

Matter-of-factly Mrs. Linford said, “Because we needed money, of course.”

“Nonsense, your father left you very well to pass.”

“Yes, he did,” Miss Abby said, “only Horace spent it all.”

“Horace?”

“Your grandfather, of course. Our dear brother. He is deceased now, of course, so one must not speak ill of him, but—”

“That will do, Abigail,” Mrs. Linford said.

“Oh dear. Yes, of course.” Miss Abby primmed her lips tightly together.

Justin looked from one to the other, then drew a long breath to calm his temper. “I think I begin to understand,” he said at last.

“Excellent,” Mrs. Linford said. “I shall order some tea.” She moved toward the bell pull.

“Wait, Aunt Miranda, I have not finished. There is no cause for you to earn your way, you know. I have much more money than is good for me. The obvious solution to this imbroglio is for me to make you an allowance.”

“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Miss Abby said, clasping and unclasping her slender hands in visible distress. “Tell him, Miranda!”

“Quite right,” Mrs. Linford said. “It would not do for us to take money from you, Justin. We value our independence, you see.”

“But that would not change. I promise you, I don’t mean to be tight-fisted.”

“I am sure you would be all that is generous, my dear, but still it would not do for us.” She hesitated, then added, “We prefer to go on as we are, you see.”

“I cannot allow that.”

Miss Abby said with a sigh, “You see, Justin dear, that’s just what you would do, forever and ever.”

He frowned. “What would I do?”

“You would tell us what to do and what not to do. We are very fond of you, my dear, but we don’t want that.”

“I wouldn’t do any such thing!”

“Excellent,” Mrs. Linford said. “Then we shall go on as we are. You could not pay our rent for us, in any case, you know. That would invalidate the tenancy agreement Cousin Augustus included in his will.”

“Cousin Augustus is dead,” Justin pointed out. “I am sure we can arrange something with Clifford and Lady Letitia so that you can continue to live here. You must know that she would never put you into the street.”