Lady Amelia's Mess and a Half (18 page)

“Whatever is the matter? You look horrendous.”

“I attribute it to my new bonnet.” Amelia’s grim smile did not lighten Bibi’s concern.

“Are you ill?” she asked, stepping forward.

“Simply tired. Will you allow me to bow out of shopping today, dearest?”

Bibi scrutinized Amelia’s pale complexion and red-rimmed eyes as Mr. Hillary led her to the drawing room. She trailed close behind.

“Your well-being is more important than Bond Street.”

Amelia’s butler presented at the drawing room entrance.

“Bring tea,” Bibi and Mr. Hillary said at the same time.

“And biscuits,” Bibi added to prove her higher level of devotion to Amelia. It was petty, she knew, but she felt bereft in their presence and didn’t know where she belonged anymore.

Bradford closed the door behind him as he left the room.

When Amelia lowered to the Grecian couch and said nothing, Bibi looked to Mr. Hillary for answers. “Tell me what has happened.”

“The renovation project has met with resistance, but it is not insurmountable.”

Amelia offered a halfhearted smile. “Everything will be fine. It may just take some time.”

Amelia and Mr. Hillary exchanged a lingering look. Bibi glanced between them, her eyes narrowing. They kept something from her, a secret shared by the two of them. A burning lump formed within her belly, and acid climbed the back of her throat.

“I want to know what it is you both are privy to.” Her voice was rising, growing louder. “I’ll not be left in the dark.”

“Please, have a seat.” Mr. Hillary stepped forward and reached for her arm. She jerked away.

“And I will not be herded like a stray lamb.” Crossing her arms, she lifted and squared her jaw.

Amelia sighed. “Very well. I will tell you, but you cannot run off half-cocked. We will figure out a solution.”

When Amelia nodded toward a chair, Bibi complied with her unspoken request then shot a defiant glare at Mr. Hillary. She wanted to blurt,
See? We have a secret language, too.
The depth of her immaturity hit her, and she lowered her head.

Amelia filled her in on the situation with Mr. Ettinger, the board chairman, and his brother, Sir Davenport. Bibi’s fingers gripped the armrests as the account drew to an end.

Amelia’s blue eyes flamed and her face hardened. “Sir Davenport’s veiled threats will have no bearing on my allegiance.”

“And if you refuse, the children’s wing will not be built?” The room was closing in on her. This could not be happening. She could not be responsible for spoiling Amelia’s dream, but to be all alone again… Holding tight to the anxiety trying to uncoil inside her, she took a deep breath.

“The renovation will be completed,” Mr. Hillary said, inserting himself uninvited into their conversation. “I’ll find another way.”

The pompous man. Always thinking he could come to the rescue.

“You must do as Sir Davenport demands,” Bibi blurted.

Red infused Amelia’s ivory skin. “I will not. Sir Davenport and the entire foundling board can go hang.”

Bibi waved her hand dismissively, but her hand shook. “Do as he asks and get on with the project. Would you deny the children a place to sleep to avoid insult to my person? What do I care what others think?” Her bravado was slipping fast.

“I’m sure you care not one whit,” Mr. Hillary said, a soured expression of disapproval transforming his usual handsome face into one she was growing to loathe, “but Amelia would not betray your friendship. She has integrity.”

“And I do not.” She jumped at a chance to shift her attention from the looming threat of being alone in the world to anger at the man partly responsible for her fate. “Is that your meaning?”

He scoffed. “Is there truly any comparison between the two of you, Lady Kennell? You flaunt your promiscuity like a ship flies her colors. It is no wonder you’re a target to sanctimonious boors like Davenport.”

“You mean sanctimonious boors like you?” She bolted from her seat, prepared to do full-out battle since he was willing to engage her. “Perhaps I should be more like
you
, Mr. Hillary, and allow my lovers to compromise me on the table where guests dine.”

Amelia gasped, drawing the gentleman’s swift attention.

“Mind your tongue,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“Or what? You will throttle me? Or worse, subject me to more of your tiresome lectures?” She turned toward Amelia. “This man is churlish beyond the pale.”

Amelia rubbed her temples. “Stop it, please.”

Bibi couldn’t stop herself. She was like a team of runaway horses on a collision course. “If you consent to marry him, you belong in Bedlam.”

Mr. Hillary crossed his arms over his chest. “
I’ll
be the one sent to Bedlam if I’m forced to endure your company day after day.”

She jabbed a finger at him. “I knew you wished to tear us apart. Why don’t you speak what is truly on your mind? You want to forbid her from being my friend.”

“I said nothing of the sort.”

Amelia stood. “Stop bickering. You are both acting like children.”

“Go on,” Bibi goaded. “Dare to forbid our friendship, Mr. Hillary.”

“This is ridiculous,” Amelia mumbled and started for the door.

Bibi took a step toward him, every ounce of defiance within her vibrating through her body. “Come now, sir. You know you really want to ban me from your household. So go ahead. Show some ballocks for once.”

“Fine!” He threw his arms wide, his face redder than she had ever seen it. “From the moment Amelia takes my name, she is forbidden from continuing an association with you. No wife of mine will ever foster a friendship with a foul-mouthed wanton with the God-given sense of a chestnut. Is this what you wish to hear?”

The actual words spoken aloud were like a blow, and she stumbled back a step. It wasn’t until several moments later that they noticed Amelia had quit the room.

“Oh, hell,” Bibi grumbled. “Look what you have done now, Mr. Hillary.”

Jake had tolerated all he could of Lady Kennell and her defiance. If anyone needed a keeper, it was that woman. A generous heart did not make up for her lack of good sense. Since their argument in Amelia’s drawing room the other day, the viscountess had been badgering Amelia nearly every hour to toss her on Davenport’s sacrificial alter.

When he had arrived last evening to escort Amelia to the theatre, her sunken eyes and sallow complexion struck him with the power of a left delivered by Gentleman Jack himself. The entire affair was taking an alarming toll on her. If Lady Kennell would leave well enough alone, Jake would have the renovation matter settled before the end of the night. By introducing the topic of Sir Davenport yet again while she and Amelia had been shopping, the viscountess had stirred the bees’ hive. Of course, Jake hadn’t helped matters when he had taken the lady to task on the ride and instigated another heated row.

Jake rubbed his temple in an attempt to erase last night’s memory. Amelia’s expression had been miserable when she had dashed inside the Royal Theatre, leaving him and Lady Kennell in the carriage to tussle like dogs vying for the same bone. It was no wonder Amelia had ended their evening early. He had behaved with a deplorable lack of restraint.

His carriage turned onto Park Street, headed for her town house. If he were fortunate, Amelia would forgive him the lapse in manners and allow him another chance to prove he could accept her dearest friend, though the viscountess tried his patience beyond what any man should have to tolerate. Still seething a bit over Amelia’s impertinent companion, Jake climbed from the carriage and marched up the stairs of Verona House. He took a cleansing breath, attempting to set his irritation aside, then knocked on her door with calm assurance.

When there was no evidence of anyone answering his call, his patience began to leach away. Jake raised his fist and pounded on the door. Still, there was no immediate response.

What
is
taking
so
bloody
long?

His foot tapped an erratic rhythm as he waited.

And waited.

As Jake prepared to hammer on the door, the lock clicked and it drifted open.

The butler’s craggy visage greeted him, stern and annoyed. He lifted his nose and sniffed. “
Mr.
Hillary.”

His derision fanned Jake’s irritation. “I would like an audience with Lady Audley.”

Bradford didn’t move aside to allow him access. “I am afraid that is impossible. Good day, sir.”

Hellfire
and
damnation
! Who was the butler to decide if Amelia would see Jake or not? “Now see here.” Jake stepped forward, sending Bradford scurrying behind the door as if to throw his slight weight against it. “
First
you must take my card to my betrothed before turning me away. I’ll wait in the drawing room.”

Bradford’s eyes rounded and his fingers gripped the door’s edge. “Sir, her ladyship is not in residence. I cannot present your card.”

Jake scowled. Amelia wasn’t one to play coquettish games. She must truly be out this afternoon. “Very well, but when Lady Audley returns, inform her I wish to speak with her.”

Bradford nodded, wary relief showing in his eyes. “As you wish, Mr. Hillary.” When Jake stepped back, the man seized the opportunity to slam the door in his face.

He growled in frustration. Bradford deserved a thorough thrashing. Thumping his fist against the door once, Jake spun on his heel and returned to the sidewalk.

What now?

He checked his watch. His brother-in-law was meeting him at Brook’s in an hour. He supposed he could arrive early and have a brandy. He needed one with the week he was having.

But after tonight, things would turn around for the better, and he had his sister’s husband to thank. Forest had been a first-rate scoundrel prior to his marriage to Lana, and while he had abandoned all forms of depravity in favor of Jake’s sister, he retained his sly charm. The man was undoubtedly an asset when it came to duping another.

Earlier this morning, Jake and Forest had reviewed the plan they had set into motion several days ago. A scheme that would have Sir Davenport giddy with his desire to support the foundling house renovation, as it would be the lesser of two evils. Forest had flashed a downright wicked smile when he had made that pronouncement, and Jake hadn’t questioned his assertion. He figured Forest knew all about the evils that could befall a man.

Jake shook his head. He almost pitied Sir Davenport. It was a shame what became of henpecked gents, but in this instance, Lady Davenport’s tyranny gave Jake an edge, and he would show no mercy at the gaming tables tonight.

But first, he had an argument to stage with Forest.

***

Jasper wanted nothing more than to wallow in bed all night with the charming Bianca Kennell, but duty beckoned. His close confidant was calling in a favor. Jasper owed Forest for forgiving his gambling debts a time or two over the years, though his friend had lost to him on occasion as well. They mostly considered themselves even, except when Forest required a favor, which was less often now that he had married a certain spirited redhead.

“Come back to bed,” Bianca cooed, teasing Jasper when she knew he couldn’t comply. Wrapped up in the tangled sheets, her eyelids drifted at half-mast and her black curls lay in disarray against the brilliant white pillow.

A rush of affection flooded through him, and he leaned to kiss the tip of her turned-up nose. “You are temptation incarnate.”

His Bianca proved every bit as lively as Forest’s wife was reputed to be. Perhaps that was the secret to a successful union: marry a peppery chit. A smile spread across his lips. Bianca Hainsworth, Lady Norwick. He liked the ring of it.

“Why are you smiling?”

“You please me, B.” He kissed her once more then straightened to adjust his waistcoat. Any more lip sampling and he would be back in bed. Then he’d have the devil to pay. “I must go. I promised to meet Forest and Sir Davenport for a rousing game of loo.”

Bianca scrambled to a seated position, holding the sheet against her chest in a rare display of modesty. Her dark eyes clouded over. “Are you well acquainted with Sir Davenport?”

“I’ve never cared much for the man.” Jasper curled his top lip as he shrugged on his jacket. “Gads. Davenport allows his wife to lead him around by the nose. Can’t stomach a gent with no courage to stand up for—”

He slanted a look at Bianca, heat creeping up his neck and spreading to the tips of his ears. He had allowed his sister to dominate him at one time. That seemed even more pathetic than tolerating a wife’s browbeating. Bianca was courteous enough not to mention Fiona. In fact, her thoughts seemed to travel in another direction. At least he hoped her wrinkled brow and severe frown had nothing to do with him.

“Did I say something to make you cross, my dear?” he asked.

“I don’t approve of Sir Davenport. I wish you did not entertain an association with him.”

Jasper moved back to the bed and perched on the side, the mattress dipping under his weight. “I cannot foresee any further cause for an association beyond tonight. Can you keep a secret?”

She nodded, her mouth still turned down in displeasure.

“Jake Hillary has a score to settle with the man, so he called on Forest to assist. I’m afraid it’s a sordid affair, and for that I am sorry, but from all accounts, Davenport deserves any troubles that come his way.”

Her frown lines softened and she reached for his hand. A feathery sigh passed through her lips. “Mr. Hillary loves my Amelia so very much, does he not?”

Jasper squeezed her hand. “I suppose he does.”

He wanted to tell Bianca he was falling in love with her as well, but the words faded to nothingness before he could speak. She had made him promise to want nothing more from her than physical affection. He had thought it an easy promise to keep at the time.

“I suspected you might have knowledge of Davenport’s interference with Lady Audley’s foundling project,” he said, “but I didn’t want to upset you if you were unaware. You understand, I hope.”

“Of course.” She released his hand and crossed her arms. “Do his accusations trouble you? I admit I cannot boast a sterling reputation, but I would never attempt to corrupt children.”

“His accusations?”

“Blast,” she muttered, unnecessarily smoothing the wrinkles in the sheets. “I spoke too quickly.”

He scowled. “Perhaps you did, but I’m bothered that you would keep something from me. What did Davenport say, and what do you have to do with the halt in the renovation?”

She slapped her hands against the bed, her eyes flaring. “I have nothing to do with anything.
He
is the cause of the project’s troubles. I made a donation for the children and wished to remain anonymous, but Sir Davenport learned of my involvement.”

Unease rippled through him, raising goose bumps along his skin. “How did he learn of your involvement?”

“How should I know? I’ve barely spoken more than a word to the gentleman in all the time I have been in society. Yet, he has it on good authority that I am a wicked, wicked woman set on corrupting the children at the foundling house. It’s ridiculous, really. Hardly a matter deserving my attention. I told Amelia to do as he demands, give me the cut direct in public, and move forward with the renovation, but she is steadfastly stubborn on the matter.”

Jasper’s mouth pinched as a slow stream of breath flared his nostrils.
Fiona
. His sister knew of Bianca’s involvement in the project. She boasted an intimate association with Lady Davenport. And she despised Bianca with a vigor that defied reason.

“This is my doing,” he said through gritted teeth. “I shall repair the damage at once, and I will wring Fiona’s skinny neck in the process.”

“Your sister cannot be responsible. I would never tell her of my donation and neither would Amelia.”

“But I would. I
did
.” He clutched his forehead and groaned. “Good Lord, what is Fiona about these days? I don’t recognize her anymore. She has become an unmitigated shrew.”

Bianca raised her eyebrows as if disputing his claim that his sister had
become
a shrew, and she was correct. Fiona had been ill-tempered since Father refused to pay Banner her dowry or acknowledge her any longer. But Jasper had made amends once he had inherited, which should have smoothed her ruffled feathers.

“I’ve had enough of Fiona’s foolishness,” he said and rose from the bed. “I’m getting to the bottom of her animosity toward you at once.”

“No!” Bianca clambered from the bed, tripping when the sheet caught her foot.

Jasper caught her around the waist. “Gads, woman. Don’t break your neck.”

“Please, don’t go to your sister. I’m untroubled by her and you should be too.”

He set Bianca away from him, dread churning in his guts. “B, why do you tolerate her mistreatment?”

Reaching for a curl, she tugged and twirled it around her finger. “Lady Banner is of no consequence.” She almost sounded nonchalant, but her voice broke and gave her away. “Please, don’t waste your time speaking to her on my behalf. I care not if she holds an unfavorable opinion of me.”

Jasper studied her. He had heard the rumors about Bianca and Lord Banner, but he knew his brother-in-law well. The man couldn’t be trusted to speak an honest word about anything. And his claims that Lady Kennell welcomed him in her bed had rung false. The beauty would never accept the likes of Banner, or so Jasper had thought. But she had become
his
lover, and he had no more to recommend him than the baron.

“Is it true about you and Lord Banner?”

She released her curl and faced him squarely. “Good Lord! Have you lost your mind? I wouldn’t have the revolting mongrel if he was the last man on earth.” She spit out the words with vehemence, convincing beyond question.

A flood of relief rushed through his body and released him from his torturous imaginings. He held out his arms. “Come here, darling. I apologize for being an unpardonable fool.”

She hesitated before capitulating, but once she was in his arms, she melted against him. “You are not unpardonable,” she mumbled into his waistcoat.

He chuckled and drew her closer. “Just a fool then?”

She tipped her head up to gaze at him with unfathomable cocoa eyes. “I shouldn’t like to argue with you any further, my lord. I concede you’re a fool if you say as much.”

“There is my submissive little lover.”

Jasper grunted when he received a playful blow to his ribs.