The Belligerent Miss Boynton AND The Lurid Lady Lockport (Two Companion Full-Length Regency Novels) (29 page)

"She's sure it's her marriage to me that has put us all in danger, and she's possessed with fears for the baby and me. If she hadn't insisted on a child, she tells me, none of this would be happening now. I know women get strange ideas when they're in her condition, but she's convinced she is a jinx. Even Aggie can't get through to her." Jared dropped into a nearby chair and covered his face with his hands. "She can't go on like this or I'm going to lose her, Kevin, and I'll die without her. Christ, I'm tired. I've barely slept in three days."

Kevin drained his glass. "Then maybe it's time you let me do the thinking for a while. First, tell me why you're so sure it was Freddie, Jared. And then convince me that the fool was clever enough to think up this entire scheme on his own."

"How can I answer you? " Jared said at last. "Bo told me what he heard, and it confirms Harrow's opinion that the thugs were hired by someone, a 'gentry mort.' My only enemies—at least the only ones of which I am aware—are Blanche and Freddie. Blanche knew the date of the party, and she found out that Amanda's going to have my baby, my
heir
. We already know she then most obligingly made Freddie aware of that fact, because you wrote to me about it. Denton wouldn't raise a hand against me, as that would be rather like killing off the golden goose now that I've settled an allowance on him, but Blanche and Freddie could have hatched this little plot between them. Freddie because he's already into the cent-per-centers for half his supposed inheritance and faces debtor's prison if he doesn't soon come into some funds, and Blanche, I suppose, out of pure spite."

"All right, you have my vote for Freddie, but I still don't understand how you figure the dear Blanche in all this as anything more than the little bee who buzzed into your cousin's ear in order to make mischief. Or do you really see her as a woman scorned? Surely that's a bit much, even for someone so irresistible as yourself, old fellow," Kevin said, easing back into his chair.

"Blanche and I had rather a bad falling out while I was in London," Jared explained, "and Amanda further fanned the flames while Blanche was visiting here—saying that I had told her
all
about it. I didn't, of course, but it wasn't a meeting Blanche would wish anyone else to know about, I can tell you that. So it wouldn't surprise me a bit to learn that she and Freddie were working together in this. She could hate Amanda and me that much. After all, would you have suspected Blanche of coming to Storm Haven in the first place?"

"Blanche could want nothing more than revenge," Kevin said consideringly. "But I doubt she'd turn down a portion of your fortune, old friend, if Freddie were to offer it to her. There is always that possibility. Do we have any real proof of any of this?"

"Unless the Bow Street runners I've hired track down either of the thugs, no. I would have gone to London immediately myself and wrung the truth out of Freddie, but I can't leave Amanda, not even for a day. That's why I wrote to you. If you were to see Freddie, talk to him, perhaps you could find some answers."

"And I'll talk to Blanche as well, Jared," Kevin assured him, not knowing if his deep concern lay more with the sad young girl upstairs or the desperate man before him. "I'll find out the truth if I first have to pull out Freddie's tongue by its roots. Come to think of it, I might just do that anyway, simply on general principles." He stood up. There was nothing to be seen of the fop he so loved to portray when Kevin Rawlings strode purposefully toward the door "Stay with your wife, Jared," he said before he left. "She needs you. If I hurry I can be back in town in time to take my mutton at Freddie's club. I'll contact you as soon as I know something."

As Jared followed Kevin to the foyer a footman sprang forward to answer an imperious knocking at the front door. A moment later, a small plump body brushed past them as if the two men weren't important enough to acknowledge. This rotund little woman was followed more slowly by Harrow—a large plaster still on the back of his head—who entered carrying a well-worn cloth bag.

The new arrival planted herself firmly in the entrance hall and gave out with a most unladylike bellow. "Where's my baby? Take me to her at once! I don't have time to shilly-shally all day down here."

While her announcement still echoed in the foyer, three maids, two footmen, and an irate Lady Chezwick appeared on the scene. The woman quickly picked out Lady Chezwick, and as that lady made her way down the staircase, the new arrival advanced on her with a purpose of mind that made the slighter woman involuntarily back up a step or two. "Where are you keeping my baby, madam?"

"Y-your b-baby, you ask? We have no baby here. We will, I mean, we shall someday, but as yet...oh, fiddle! How dare you barge into my nephew's home, appearing to all the world no more civilized than a chimney sweep! "

Harrow put down his bundle and cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but I believe she means Miss Mandy. This here's her old nanny. Lord Storm sent me off to fetch her."

"Yes, and a fine crawling pace you set getting me here, Harrow. You never were fleet of foot, even as a lad. And who are you to be calling me old? Ha—if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black! Be gone with you, man, you're of no more use here."

She turned back to Lady Chezwick and winked as Harrow gratefully quit the hall. "Dirty old man, Harrow. Always was. Always smelling of horses and the like. But tolerable all the same, if you remember to stay upwind, that is."

If Amanda's former nanny was not overly impressed with Harrow, the same could be said for Lady Chezwick's feelings toward the woman.

She tried to stop her from approaching the staircase, but to no avail, for the heavier woman just elbowed her aside and began mounting the stairs two at a time, her skirts hiked up to show her plump calves.

As the woman brushed by her, Lady Chezwick, who had all but plastered herself to the wall in self-defense, demanded, "What is your name?"

"Beulah Farthingale."

"And shall we call you Beulah?" Lady Chezwick fairly screeched, glaring down the staircase at her nephew.

Beulah turned at the head of the staircase and leaned over the banister. "You do and be ready to suffer for it. I answer only to Nanny." And with a flip of her straggly grey hair she was gone from sight.

Lady Chezwick advanced down the staircase toward Jared, demanding he do something about this brutal invasion of his home, but he prudently motioned for Kevin to precede him through the doorway and outside, leaving his aunt to sputter impotently for a moment, then halfheartedly box the ears of the young footman, telling him to fetch her some tea.

#

Nanny turned instinctively toward the main bed chamber and threw open the pair of paneled doors with a bang. Sally, who had been trying to coax Amanda into swallowing a few spoonfuls of beef broth, jumped back, startled out of her wits. She was given short shrift by the newcomer when she dared to question that woman's presence before she was sent sniffling from the room with a flea in her ear about mollycoddling those able to do for themselves.

As Sally went searching for Lady Chezwick, Nanny closed and locked the door and took stock of the sad-eyed girl who looked at her rather blankly.

"Why is it dark in here in the middle of the day, may I ask?" she bellowed to no one in particular as she went to the windows and threw back the curtains. "There, that's more the thing. Now," she announced, "isn't that much cheerier? It looked like a funeral in here."

"There could have been a funeral, Nanny. Two of them, in fact, and both of them my fault." Amanda's voice was low and emotionless as she added, "If was very nice of you to come see me, Nanny, but I'm afraid I'm really not up to entertaining visitors."

Nanny sniffed loudly. "Visitors is it? Me, who wiped your bottom when you were a baby and who held your head when you were sick from eating green apples? Is that who you're calling a visitor? And after I've been dragged across half of England on the bumpiest roads Harrow could find? I left a nice cozy room at my sister's, too, I'll have you know, and all because you're acting the dieaway miss. Is this what I taught you? Is this what you learned from your Mama and your Papa? I think not! Now, don't just sit there like a dashed waxwork. Pick up that spoon and start in to eating. Later I'll find you some real food, but that invalid pap will have to do for now."

Amanda continued to sit with her hands folded in her lap, so that Nanny bent low and whispered into her ear, "Start spooning, my fine young miss, or I'll hold your nose and force it down your throat. Lord rest your sainted parents, I've done it before."

Amanda ate. Amanda also bathed. She allowed Nanny to tie back her hair in a pink ribbon. How the old woman accomplished these miracles while being constantly besieged by furious poundings on the door from Lady Chezwick and, later, by Lord Storm himself, she didn't really know, but after a time everyone went away and left her alone with her charge.

Finally satisfied that all of her baby's creature needs had been taken care of, Nanny decided to have a small talk with Amanda. Slowly she learned the entire story, and heard about Amanda's deep sense of guilt.

"So now it is your fault, eh? And I thought you were all grown up. But, then, breeding females do get the strangest thoughts in their heads sometimes. Child, you are no more to blame for those poor folks' trouble than I was. Who are you, that you should be singled out for such power over the fate of anyone save yourself? I suppose that if Harrow had succeeded in killing me in his attempt to hit every hole in the post road, that would have been your fault as well? My, I never thought I'd live to hear of such nonsense from my own baby."

"I suppose you're right, Nanny," Amanda interrupted, "but—"

"No buts about it! You're not to blame. But I will say that what you're doing now is a downright sin. Harrow tells me your poor husband is beside himself worrying about you, and so is everyone else. By all that knocking and yelling I'd say you're pretty important to a lot of people, sweetings. Surely they don't regret your entrance into their lives. If you've brought love to them I'm sure they're more than willing to take any pain that goes along with it, just as you would willingly share their pain."

"I'd die rather than hurt any of them," Amanda vowed, feeling some of her former spirit returning to her.

"Well, dying's the last thing I think they'd want, sweetings. And what of your child? It seems to me you're just helping that Freddie person along, instead of putting your faith in that fine husband of yours. To hear Harrow tell it, his lordship all but hangs out the sun, and loves you more than a little bit. But if you keep on this way it will hurt the wee one, and that would be your fault."

Amanda broke down then, throwing herself into her old nurse's arms to cry for the first time since she had tried and found herself guilty of opening up her loved ones to danger. Nanny cradled her against her ample bosom, rocking her gently as she had done so many times in the past, and wiping away a tear or two of her own. After a time she pushed Amanda away slightly and admonished, "That will be enough of that, young lady, or you shall give the babe the hiccups."

Amanda wiped her streaming eyes with the skirt of her gown. "Oh, Nanny, I'm so glad you're here. I promise to be good now."

"Well of course you will be, now that I'm here." Nanny crossed to the door to call down for a maid, but was not surprised when a very large man came barreling through the opening, concern written all over his handsome face.

"She'll be all right now, my lord," she announced calmly, and stepped back as Amanda gave a small cry and hurled herself into her husband's arms. "You can stay only an hour, my lord. My baby needs her rest," she warned loudly before she closed the door behind her and nearly knocked over the hovering Lady Chezwick.

Nanny looked the noble lady up and down and calmly said, "I would like to be shown to my room now, madam, unless you had something else to mind."

Aunt Agatha's mouth opened and closed a few times before she wordlessly beckoned for the woman to follow her. The two spent the rest of the day circling each other like gamecocks, pecking one minute, retreating the next, until at last an uneasy peace was settled between them. But little did Nanny know that only her success with Amanda had saved her from having her ears soundly boxed, even if Lady Chezwick would have had to stand on a footstool in order to do it!

#

Lady Wade, clothed in one of her favorite, filmy dressing gowns, was in the process of choosing between a gown of blue satin and one of pink brocade when her maid burst into the room without so much as a knock on the door.

"Curse you for a fool, girl! How many times have I told you to beg my permission before entering my chamber? What if I had been entertaining? You had better mind your step or I'll take my hairbrush to you again."

The maid bobbed up and down in a series of small curtsies as she tried to catch her breath and explain her presence to Lady Wade. "B-but, milady, there is a man downstairs."

Blanche obviously was not impressed. "What of it? Have him hand in his card and push him out. I am not receiving today."

"He is most insistent, milady."

"Naturally. All my suitors are of the impatient sort. It will do him well to cool his heels." She shrugged, giving in to curiosity. "Oh, very well, I'll see him now if he's eager enough to have sent you upstairs to plead his case. Tell him I shall be down in an hour or so, if he cares to wait."

There was a shuffling at the door and the maid cried out in fright as an ebony cane appeared in front of her, then pressed against her waist and gently maneuvered her backwards, out of the room. Blanche turned away from her mirror to see the new Earl of Lockport leaning negligently against the door frame, his beaver hat still cocked rakishly over one eye.

"As you may observe, I did not deign to wait upon your pleasure. Well, look at you, Blanche. Oh, this won't do. It won't do at all. Kindly drape something more substantial over your udders, woman, before you take a chill," Kevin drawled, his handsome face wearing a dangerous look.