Four Dukes and a Devil (22 page)

“Well, at least we know the way, at this point,” Helston said, dryly. “Second bloody time in less than five months. Perhaps I should scour the area for a suitable residence if this is the way it shall go from now on.”

“Friendship has its costs,” the other man said with a chuckle.

“The problem as I see it is that so far it’s been bloody one-sided in your case,
Friend
.”

“Luc! Shhh. Is this not the most magnificent…Oh—”

And then after a knock, which further opened the door, Helston, the dowager with her tiny brown dog tucked under her arm, and the stranger were ushered into the library. A red-faced footman hurriedly preceded them. The countess was missing from the party.

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” the footman said. “His Grace, the Duke of Helston, and Her Grace, the—”

Helston cut through the trivialities with seasoned hauteur. “He knows who we are. How the bloody are you, Beaufort?
Good of you to see us.
” Amusement laced the words of the black-haired and famously black-humored Duke of Helston as he strode forward to grip John’s shoulder on one side and to shake his hand with the other. “Like the new name. May I say it fits you better than the others? Although I must admit to a certain fondness for your epithet in the
Post.
”

The dog barked. “Hush,” Ata admonished her pet. “Antlers are our friends here, Attila. Oh, Beaufort, please pardon us,” she shot a dark look toward her grandson. “May we offer our very deepest sympathies on the death of your uncle? He was a generous man—a gentleman who did not shirk from helping us in our great hour of need last winter. I fear we come on an equally important mission today.”

“How may I be of service to you, madam?” John bowed deeply before her. He’d always liked the little, dark-eyed, plain-speaking dowager.

John tilted his head to glance at the towering, rugged stranger behind the two Helstons. They had forgotten to introduce the man in their obvious haste.

The dowager produced a letter from her reticule and offered it to him. “I received this letter three days ago. It was dispatched from the inn in Quesbury. I’m sorry to say it is from a woman who is very dear to us all. She had the great misfortune to become stranded with several others when the mail coach departed without them. Oh, I told her to accept the use of our carriage before she left town, but she is so very stubborn.”

“A clear case of the pot calling the kettle black,” Helston drawled.

“Luc! Do be serious. I am terri—”

“I keep telling you that I have not the slightest doubt that the intrepid, flame-haired woman
I know
is perfectly fine. This is a fool’s errand. Now then, Beaufort, have you seen or heard news of a Miss Victoria Givan? She was traveling with—”

“Three boys,” John finished, looking up from the letter. Her handwriting was as bold and arrogant as a queen’s.

The dowager placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, thank heavens. You’ve news of them?”

The hulking gentleman behind them moved with the speed and lethal silence of a jungle cat. “Where is she?”

“And who are you, sir?” John perused the form of the giant with all the hauteur his station permitted.

“Where is she?” he demanded again.

“You must be Miss Givan’s
very
good friend. No thanks to you, she is comfortably ensconced in one of the chambers above. The boys are here, too.”

The man exhaled roughly, his hand rubbing his brow. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting, Beaufort. But I am that grateful to you, I don’t really care.” The man eased back a step when John stepped forward. “I must say though, I can’t like your tone, but, yes, I am her
very
good friend. That’s why I’m here. Her welfare is my responsibility.”

John couldn’t keep the edge of anger from his bark. “You are her
benefactor
, you blackguard
.
”

The Duke of Helston and the diminutive dowager were looking at him as if he’d lost his wits.

“Uh, no, actually.
Vic’s
benefactor is the Countess of Sheffield, soon to be—”

At the sound of the nickname Victoria refused to allow him to use, he erupted. “You’re the one who knows her as
Vic
? By God, I shall wash the floor with—”

“Much as I would enjoy watching some other fool take on my
friend
here,” Helston interrupted abruptly, “I feel dukes should stand by one another. It’s the natural order of things. I’m sorry Wallace, but I must—”

“Wallace?” John interrupted, incredulous. “
You’re
Wallace?”

The dowager piped up. “Yes, so sorry. Thought you’d been introduced. He’s the long-lost earl you’ve probably recently heard tell about—that is if you follow the gossip columns, which you should since they particularly like to report about you often enough.” The dowager smiled, a pert little V of a smile. “Monstrously tall, isn’t he? Don’t know how the countess manages to bully him as well as she does.”

Wallace smiled. “Ata, you know Grace has never bullied a fly in her entire life. She shames us all into doing the proper thing with her impeccable manners, her unsurpassed charm, her—”

“Wallace,” Helston cut in with obvious boredom. “It’s not at all the thing to be so obviously in love with your fiancée.”

The dowager turned on her grandson. “A clear case of the pot calling the kettle—”

“Ata…” Helston growled. “Oh, do let’s get on with it. It’s almost full dark, and we should see Miss Givan, then get out of Beaufort’s little hovel here. I’m famished.”

John nodded almost imperceptibly to the footman hovering in the doorway, and the man undertook his bidding to arrange for the needs of their new guests without a word. And then suddenly, the ethereal beauty of the Countess of Sheffield glimmered from the hall. She walked quickly inside, forwent the courtesy of a curtsy, and went to Wallace’s side. The man’s attention was exclusively drawn to her, and he urged, “What is it, sweetheart?”

Her blue eyes darted to John, a worried question lurking there. “She’s left.”

John started. “Left?”

She searched his face, a hint of distrust in evidence. “One of your maids directed me to the ladies withdrawing, and when I asked, she explained that Victoria was indeed here. I took the liberty of going to her chamber, and I found…”

“What did you find, sweetheart?” Wallace asked softly.

“Knotted sheets from the window.”

John could not make his feet move. “Knotted sheets? Why, the little…”

Wallace’s eyes narrowed. “Little what, Beaufort? What have you done to her? I shall strangle you with those sheets until you cough up an offer if you’ve compromised her. This is the most gothic story I’ve ever heard. Straight from the pages of—”

“The
Canterbury Tales,
” John finished. “Yes, I do believe I’m going to burn that book, if I find her. But never fear, Wallace, I’m marrying her. Even if I have to cuff and drag her every inch of the way to Gretna Green.”

Wallace noticeably relaxed and continued gruffly. “You may use my smithy’s
twitch
if you like. It’s far superior to cuffs or rope ties.”

The Countess of Sheffield’s eyes softened. “Now dearest, do not give him any ideas.”

“I suppose you’re right, my love. But he has just voluntarily committed himself to a lifetime with Victoria. And while I adore her with every inch of my heart, she is, well, even you must admit, Grace—Victoria can be a
challenge,
at times. A wonderful, infuriating—”

“I would suggest you stop while you’re ahead, Wallace,” John said stiffly. “You are speaking of the soon-to-be Duchess of Beaufort. And while I may refer to my future wife as I see fit, you, on the other hand—”

Helston’s brows had almost reached his hairline. He recovered and quickly stepped between them. “Enough.
Enough
. Is there no brandy to be had in this hut of yours, Beaufort?”

“Oh, this is the perfect reason to write again to dear Mr. Brown in Scotland.” The dowager Duchess of Helston laughed. “Luc, do you think this might roust him from his ill will toward me?”

“For God sakes, Ata, allow Brownie the peace he has earned.”

“But he loves weddings. Adores them. He’ll never be able to withstand the temptation of attending now both Wallace’s
and
Beaufort’s weddings to two ladies from my secret circle.”

“Funny,” the duke replied dryly. “Brownie’s never mentioned a particular fondness for such folly in the past. And since when did Miss Givan become part of your ridiculous club? She’s not even a widow.”

Ata blinked. “I’ve grown accustomed to your infernal Devil’s rules. If I say Victoria doesn’t need to be bereaved to be in my widows club, then so be it.” The tiny dowager tilted up her nose and sniffed. “Well, I’m off to write to Mr. Brown, and you can’t stop me.”

The Countess of Sheffield bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“Christ. My appetite is ruined,” the Duke of Helston said darkly. “There is far too much talk of weddings and happiness swirling about to my liking. When, I ask you, is tragedy to come back in style?”

J
ohn had decided he would, indeed, borrow Wallace’s twitch, if he ever found her.

They had searched every last mile of land separating them from the cottage near the abbey. Every dale, every hollow, every lane. She was not to be found, nor were the boys. She wasn’t a fool. She’d somehow charmed one of the younger grooms into providing his services as a driver, along with two of John’s best carriage horses and a simple four-wheeled dog cart. Yet none of them had returned.

He swore violently as he paced the ridge above his massive stable—the best vantage point, and sufficiently removed from the great house to allow him to mouth every obscenity he could think of. He and the other two gentlemen had ridden all afternoon, all night, looking for her and the trio of boys. Helston and the earl didn’t take her disappearance nearly as seriously as he did. And if he had had to endure their jibes another minute longer, he had thought he very well might give in to his desire to smash the dark humor from both of them. He had galloped away from them as dawn first streaked its tawny pink fingers across the horizon, their laughter floating behind him.

The sound of crickets whirred all ’round him, the sound deafening with the heat of day increasing.

Where was she?

A horse and rider appeared at the crest of the hill in front of him, and his heart pumped with renewed hope. But it was not she. The rider wore a top hat and breeches.

The man drew up and dismounted, his mare’s shoulders showing a hint of lather.

Could his day grow any worse?
Apparently.

The earl swept an exaggerated bow. “Your Grace.”

“Wymith,” John gritted out. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” The imposing gentleman in his prime before him resembled his forebearer about as much as John did his own—that is, not one whit.

The earl retrieved something from a saddlebag flung across his horse’s flanks and dropped two feathered shapes before him.

“What on earth?”

“I think she pilfered them from one of your great rooms. Miss Givan is a very, ahem, enterprising young lady, if I do say so.”

John reached to clench his hands around the stuffed forms of a preserved wood duck and pheasant. “Careful, Wymith, she is my fiancée.”

“Really,” he drawled. “She didn’t mention that.”

“And what, pray tell, did she say to you?”

The other man studied him for a moment. “That we are both hardheaded beasts who refuse to see reason.”

“Hmmm.”

“She insisted I see past my objections to your very obvious desire to fatten your purses by way of this proposed easement. Said we should both think to the betterment of the many people of this county who depend on us.”

“Did she now?” he muttered.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And she said we should compromise and build the road and the mill half on my property and half on yours, and arrange for the majority of the profits to go to the men who work there and to the ill and infirm of Derbyshire.” The earl examined his fingernails. “She also said that you had finally seen the error of your ways and those of your uncle before you—after she had fully explained in detail all of your faults—some of which, I am sorry to say, had little to do with hunting and trespassing but much to do with locks and keys.”

He itched to strangle the managing little philanthropist with pockets to let.

The earl continued. “These two motheaten bits of fluff were the peace offering she insisted I accept from you. More importantly, she said I was invited to hunt in Beaulieu Park anytime I wished.”

“Really?”

“She also insisted I was to condescend to wait upon you, here, as you wished to invite me to dine so we could discuss the building of the mill.”

“I see.”

He shrewdly stroked his jaw. “A most interesting choice, Beaufort. She has more pluck than most men.”

“I know.”

“Surprising how well you’ve done for yourself,” he said. “Not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s fine by me. Hate chatter. Now, are you going to invite me to breakfast or not?”

“Of course.” John continued without a hint of irony. “I’m
delighted
you’ve come.”

“Well,” the earl said discomfited, “I don’t know about you, but I’m not inclined to have to face her again without a signed agreement. Oh, and by the by, she said to tell you that she has removed to the cottage near the abbey, and…”

“Yes?”

Wymith licked his lips. “She said to give you this by way of a token of her appreciation and a formal good-bye.” He tendered her battered volume of the
Canterbury Tales.

John gripped the book, his eyes challenging the earl to say another blasted word. After a decade of silence, John bowed, his eyes so tired it felt as if an ocean’s worth of salt and sand resided under his lids, “I’m honored by your visit, Wymith. Do you know the Duke and Dowager Duchess of Helston? Or the Countess of Sheffield and her fiancé, the Earl of Wallace? No?
Gentle folk
…You shall enjoy their company. This way, now. Fancy kippers?”

Would she always know how to work on him? A part of him melted at what she had so brazenly accomplished. All that bad luck, all those horrid words…erased with such heavensent goodness and devil-made assurance.

He had tried to go without them, but that blasted herd of Victoria’s acquaintances would not be put off. The tension in the first of two carriages was as tight as the noose on a dead man. And they would not leave off of the subject of the snakebite once the physician had let it slip when he had come to call.

The Earl of Wallace’s baritone rumbled within the close confines of the barouche. “British vipers are very rarely fatal, especially if you administer snakeroot or clivers. You didn’t try to suck the poison out, did you? Only a fool would employ that barbaric practice.”

John nearly lunged at the earl. The only thing that kept him in his seat was the fact that the cottage was around the next bend in the road.

“Your lips were on her ankle, Your Grace?” Ata’s eyebrows lifted. “How very…intimate of you.”

“I’ve already told you, Victoria and I are to be married.”

Her Grace harrumphed. “Yes, well, it’s obvious she refused you.” She smiled knowingly. “Perhaps you didn’t ask her in the correct fashion. Did you tell her she was the most beautiful creature alive? Did you tell her you couldn’t live without her? Did you tell her you lo—”

“Ata,” Helston said with a sigh. “Leave the poor sod be. I agreed to prop up his spirits and bear witness to his future responsib—ahem, happiness,” he continued dryly, “but I did not agree to listen to more romantic folderol.”

“Well, so few men know how to go about proposals properly. ’Tis the reason there are so many spinsters. Everyone knows unmarried ladies have a superior life over married females. Gentlemen have to use every last ounce of false charm to lull a lady’s senses into acceptance.”

“Ata,” Luc growled louder.

“Not that we ever thought that in your case, dearest. I’ve always suspected you blackmailed or tricked Rosamunde into having you. You probably locked her in a room with naught but bread and broth until she promised to have you. Beaufort, on the other hand, would
never
…” She batted her eyelashes.

John groaned at the same moment the carriage lurched to a full stop.

Victoria rubbed at a spot on the large table in the refurbished kitchen of the cottage, grateful she finally had a moment to herself. She really only had to find two last servants for this house of men and boys. A man and his wife had arrived without notice this morning, both in search of employment. Their letters of recommendation were exemplary, and Victoria had engaged them as manservant and housekeeper. There was only the cook to find, and a maid-of-all-work. The boys were now off with the architect’s men, to the abbey.

Lost in her never-ending stream of thoughts regarding a certain not-to-be-borne duke, she looked up only to find the man who occupied her every thought standing before her.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “You’ve come.”

“Did you doubt I would?”

She tried to adopt an air of indifference to hide her ill ease. “What took you so long?”

“Your friends. And benefactor.”

She frowned. “Did they come in person? Oh, I’m sorry I caused them such trouble.”

“Well, at least you are capable of feeling regret for something, Victoria.”

She glanced away. “I have no regrets, Your Grace.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Yes, but you’ve ordered me to do so many things that I cannot be blamed for not always remembering all your wishes.”

He advanced toward her. “No? Well then I shall have to remind you of my wishes.”

She bit her lip.

“But, first, I must thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coercing the Earl of Wymith into an agreement.”

“Phifft. That was child’s play. I assure you it’s far harder to get two hungry boys to share a slice of bread. You two were stuffed full of—”

“Victoria.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve known you long enough to see through your methods. I will not be put off. Now, you are not to say another word until you accept my compliments and more. If not, beware. The Earl of Wallace possesses an interesting device, which he has invited me to use if you will not hear me through.”

She felt nearly ill at the thought that the duke could so easily see through her.

“Do you love him so very much?” he asked gruffly. “So much you cannot see your way to one day caring for someone else?”

Her gaze wavered the merest bit before she replied. “Yes.”

He broke into a grin. “I adore that about you.”

“Adore what?” she replied, irritated beyond measure.

“The fact that you lie about as well as a poacher plump with partridge in his pockets.”

“Yes, well, it worked well enough on you at key moments.”

His deep blue eyes scrutinized her, fraying her nerves. “Why did you run away? It’s not like you.”

A scratching sound came from the direction of the pantry. Victoria ignored it. “I did not run away. If I’d meant to run away I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

He took a step toward her. “Victoria, we must marry. You’ve never been afraid of anything in your life.”

“This only proves you do not know me at all. I’ve been afraid my entire life.”

In a moment, he had trapped her in his embrace, forcing her to accept the protection and comfort of his arms. “You were probably only afraid of being denied important things—food, shelter. Do not try and tell me you’re afraid of facing down a ballroom full of puffed-up aristocrats bent on mischievous gossip. Having endured a lifetime of it, I assure you it’s all meaningless chatter. Just think how you’ll relish forcing them to feel guilty about their excesses and how you shall also coerce them into helping the less fortunate, just as you did the Earl of Wymith.”

“And you.”

He chuckled. “Yes, and me. And you shall have the pleasure of reminding me daily that I was too thickheaded to think of the solution first.”

“I won’t marry you no matter how hard you try to charm me,” she said abruptly, and pushed against his broad, warm chest.

He shook his head. “You know, I finally find the most beautiful lady on earth—the one woman I cannot live without—the lady I was destined to—”

“Ata has been working on you, hasn’t she?”

“Blast it, Victoria.” He rocked his forehead in his hands. “Do not say another word, or Lord help me, I will—”

“What?” she interrupted.

“I will
love
you. Love you for the rest of my life without pause. Love you until you forget to be afraid.” He paused and continued quietly, “I shall love you enough for the both of us.”

She felt the burn of tears behind her eyes, the ache of holding back in her throat.

“Now do you think you could possibly accept my offer? Accept me?”

Her heart soared. “Yes. Actually it’s quite convenient because—”

He rushed to gather her back into his arms. “Oh, darling…promise you will never, ever cause me as much worry as you did yesterday when you disappeared.”

“Your know, John, you’re going to have to stop asking for so many favors and promises. I already warned you how those sorts of things spoil a person. And as I recall, you said I would never have to do anything else you ever asked again…when the snake bit me.”

“Yes, well, that was when I was sure it was a viper, and I thought you’d be dead within a day.”

“That is the poorest excuse I’ve ever heard.” Another scratching sound came from the pantry, and Victoria looked about her for the broom with a jot of fear. “What
is
that?”

He appeared completely unconcerned by the odd noise. “Darling, there are two things we must do before your dear friends descend upon us. They’re waiting outside.”

“Yes?” He was nuzzling her neck, making it very hard to concentrate.

“I must kiss you, and you must answer one last question.”

His lips nibbled the edge of her jaw, leaving her unable to form a coherent sentence. “Hmmm…”

He whispered, “Who gave you those delectable little boots of yours? The Countess of Sheffield?”

“No,” she murmured.

His lips were closing fast. “Don’t you dare tell me it was that heathen Wallace.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Well?” He brushed his firm lips across the top of her nose and paused. Waiting…

“It was the Dowager Duchess of Helston. Said they would drive men to distraction…And she was absolutely spot o—”

He growled and swooped in to claim his kiss…To claim her, as she had always hoped. It was the way of all the best
Canterbury Tales
after all, was it not?

When she felt her knees weaken, she forced her lips from his and rested her forehead against the snowy folds of his neckcloth. He towered a good six inches above her, making a very comfortable, rock-solid support. “You know, this was much easier than I thought,” she murmured.

“What was much easier?”

“Snaring the Catch of the Century.”

He chuckled. “Really?”