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‘Devils the lot of them and just look at that brazen hussy flaunting her legs and everything else she has like some doxy in the Haymarket,’ the cook said in disgust. ‘All of them no better than they should be and yet they calls themselves quality, disgusting is what I say they are.’
Verity giggled delightedly and Eve gave Carter an angry nudge to let him know he would have to put more of his weight on her shoulders if he was to pass as a run-of-the-mill rake and not a limping one. ‘La, but he’s even more drunk than I thought he was,’ she hissed at Verity in a stage whisper, hoping any sign of a stagger in his step would seem to be from too much alcohol and not war.
‘Let’s hurry up then, before he finds another bottle and climbs into it for the night,’ her devious little relative by marriage replied in the affected tones of a lady intent on being very unladylike indeed and daring the world to stop her.
Eve managed a false titter and even wiggled her hips so provocatively the chef ought to remember her walk and not Carter’s, if anyone asked him to describe such a disgraceful trio, should the Louburn brothers escape and start baying for Carter’s blood.
‘You win,’ he murmured so softly only she could hear him and he finally let some of his weight fall on her shoulder until they were safely across the vast kitchen and out of the open door, into the dark coldness of the night and up stone steps into the street that served the back of these tall town houses.
‘Hush,’ he ordered them both when Verity would have said something gleeful about their lucky escape and danced about in triumph, ‘you’re not safe home yet. Take off that mask now and button yourself up again before you catch your death, there’s a good girl.’
Eve could sense Verity’s mouth firming sulkily at being called a good girl after such a grown-up adventure, but if anyone deserved to be treated like a naughty schoolgirl tonight it was she. ‘Or shall we call you a crass idiot for what you did tonight if you prefer not to be called so?’ she whispered severely in Verity’s ear.
‘I’m so sorry, Eve, really I am,’ the contrary, exasperating and disarming girl said humbly.
‘There will be plenty of time for all that later,’ Carter told them both impatiently.
Eve felt his fingers searching for the strings of her mask because she hadn’t hurried to do as she was bid fast enough. This has to stop, she told herself, as her breath caught at the heady sensation of his fingers winnowing through her disordered curls. A foolish little shiver slid down her neck when he brushed against her vulnerable-feeling nape and the whole of her body wanted to respond to him as if he was her lover now. A longing she had never wanted to feel until she met him shook her right down to her toes. She told herself it was a sigh of relief that she let out when he found the strings of her mask, undid it and put the silly, frivolous thing in his pocket before she could grab it as a keepsake of a night she ought to want to start forgetting even before it was properly over.
‘That’s better, this time we are going to be a respectable, middling sort of couple with a very sulky young gentleman in our charge. As long as you keep that cap on and don’t speak above a whisper we may get away with it in the dark, Miss Verity,’ he said softly as he pushed the odd stray wisp of golden hair under the velvet jockey cap Verity had at least had enough sense to wear when she set out on this shocking scrape tonight.
Carter offered Eve his arm as if they were about to take a stroll in the park and what could she do but take it like the obedient wife she was supposed to be right now? Control of their latest misadventure had slipped inexorably from her fingers the moment they got into Warlington House and she supposed he had got them this far without disaster, so she might as well go along with officer Carter for a little longer. They crept round the most shadowy edge of the square and were soon out of it and back in the wider world again. Eve allowed herself a moment to imagine how it would feel to be creeping through the darkness without him and terror whispered in her ear. Luckily he was here, though, and she could wait to review imagined terrors when they were safely at home and in their beds. Right now it was still quite early by ton standards, so now and again a fashionable town carriage would rattle past on the way to a different party or to clubs and less public assignations. It wasn’t as busy as it would be in the spring, but Mayfair was still lively on a chilly October night.
Eve was glad she could walk in Carter’s shadow as they passed tall town houses where entertainments were being held tonight, or a smart coach swept past on the way to somewhere else. How could she feel so safe and oddly interested in how the night felt when she wasn’t part of that busy round of doing nothing much in grand style? Because Carter was here, she let herself know. His muscular arm was warm under her fingers and his body so close it felt as though he was her security and such a sure strength—why would she let him go at the end of this reckless adventure? You know why, common sense and her mother’s blasted reputation whispered in her ear and how ardently she wished they would go away right now.
‘Is there some way you can get back inside without being found out?’ Carter murmured when they finally reached Farenze House and all seemed serene, so at least neither she nor Verity had been missed.
‘Yes,’ Eve whispered. ‘Goodnight and thank you, Mr Carter.’
‘Hasn’t he got a given name?’ Verity asked a bit too loudly.
‘Hush, Verity, and don’t be nosy. Remember what you did tonight before you say another word to those of us who were forced to lie and risk far too much to rescue you from your stupidity.’
‘I was going to say then we are deeply in your debt, whoever you are, sir,’ Verity managed with almost grown-up dignity.
‘Please don’t mention it and I mean that in every sense, by the way. It will be best if we pretend we can’t really remember one another if we ever happen to meet again, Miss Revereux. Now I must bid you both goodnight and try to smuggle myself back into Derneley House unseen, before Mr Carter scandalises the whole neighbourhood by being caught out here with two young ladies so late at night.’
A brief touch of Eve’s hand as if he was bidding goodnight to a nodding acquaintance and Mr Carter strode off into the darkness as if they had imagined him. He might be gone from their sight, but Eve knew somehow that he stopped to watch them creep inside the house and make sure they were finally safe. He was simply that sort of man, she admitted to herself as she rushed Verity up the stairs so she could light a candle and show it at the window just long enough for him to know they were safe home and had not been caught.
‘Go to bed, Verity, you will answer to me in the morning and you’re lucky I didn’t call Papa and Chloe back from their dinner with the Laughraines. I only decided not to do so because I won’t have Chloe upset by your idiocy at the moment and risk harming the baby.’
‘I thought you weren’t going to ring a peal over my head until tomorrow,’ Verity said sulkily.
‘Then you’d best hurry to get into bed before I change my mind, and before you do kindly hide that disgraceful disguise you stole before Bran finds it and raises the roof,’ Eve ordered wearily, sinking down on to her own feather bed and wondering if she had it in her to undress, let alone brush her curls into good order, then hide the best gown she must somehow get back to the head housemaid’s room in good order tomorrow, before the girl realised her box had been tampered with and it was gone.
‘He is very handsome,’ Verity said with a sneaky look, as she pulled off her cap and let her golden mane tumble down over her shoulders. Then she even had the cheek to sit and brush it with Eve’s hairbrush as if this was a night much like any other. ‘Lend me a nightdress and I will go,’ she responded to Eve’s unspoken demand to be left in peace.
‘Why should I?’ Eve demanded grumpily. It seemed unfair that Verity had come out of tonight’s brouhaha looking like a part-time angel and Eve’s whole life felt as if it had been turned upside down and she couldn’t seem to get it right again.
‘Because I don’t want to be caught wandering the corridors at night in these very comfortable breeches and a gentleman’s shirt. I won’t go away and let you dream of Mr Carter until you let me change into something less improper.’
‘You should have thought of that before you stole those breeches from the attic and remember you’re the one with cause to feel ashamed of herself tonight and not me, Verity Revereux.’
‘True, but I didn’t drag the most intriguing stranger I ever met into the midst of a potential scandal, then watch him deal with it as if I couldn’t take my eyes off him either.’
‘At least I didn’t risk my reputation for the sake of an idiot.’
‘Rufus is very silly, isn’t he?’ Verity said with a heavy sigh that admitted she was shocked and disappointed by her evening.
‘Yes, and his looks are only on the outside, Verity, inside he is no better than his brothers.’
‘He didn’t even bother to wait for me. I went to so much trouble to get into that horrid house undetected, but he was dancing with a woman old enough to be his mother when I got there. Then he kissed her and they disappeared for ages and ages,’ Verity said tragically, then shrugged and went back to plundering Eve’s drawers until she found a nightdress warm enough to roam draughty corridors and not catch cold. ‘I realised Rufus is fickle as the wind and dim as a rushlight tonight,’ she added mournfully. ‘And he isn’t even very nice either; I really can’t imagine what I ever saw in him now.’
‘Good, so now you know that very handsome males are often a little stupid and spoilt with it—I suppose they have no need to try very hard.’
‘Your Mr Carter isn’t an idiot.’
‘Nor is he my Mr Carter; only imagine the fuss if he was,’ Eve managed to joke weakly.
‘I suppose there would be a whisper or two, since he obviously hasn’t got much money, but the tabbies would soon find something else to talk about if you two were boringly happy with each other and your father approved,’ Verity said as she striped off her breeches and hastily pulled Eve’s nightdress over her head.
‘Do you really think so?’ Eve said. The idea of being Carter’s lady tugged at her heart and reminded her how wondrous it felt to be kissed by a man who really knew what he was doing. No, it was every bit as impossible now as it was the night she first met him and every night since. ‘Papa would never allow it.’
‘Maybe I was a fool tonight, but my parents’ story tells me that it’s folly to turn away from true love whenever it comes along. I had to find out if Rufus was only perfect on the outside, Eve. You know better than anyone that you can’t judge a person by the family they were born into, although in his case I suppose I should have done.’
‘It’s as well you don’t love him then, isn’t it? Now go away, Verity. You’re the last person who should preach to me about love after what you got up to tonight. Thank your guardian angel that we found you before the whole world knew you were abroad in breeches and then go to bed.’
‘You went straight to Mr Carter as soon as you found out I was gone though, didn’t you?’ Verity said and left Eve sitting staring at a closed door and wondering if such chaste solitude was what she truly wanted.
Of course it was, she informed her inner doubter bracingly. She had not met the right man yet and sooner or later he would turn up to make perfect sense of her life. All she had to do was wait and refuse to be side-tracked by contradictory, gruff and unsuitable heroes like Mr Carter and her life would be as close to perfect as anyone’s could be in this faulty world.
Chapter Eight (#ulink_ea8942df-eac9-5048-bae7-24dc66824e62)
It took Colm another week to pack up the Derneley Library. With a sigh of relief he bade farewell to the few staff still working at Derneley House and limped out into a foggy autumn morning. It was time to bid farewell to Mr Carter and he must learn to be a Hancourt again. Someone had to stop the Hancourt estates slipping into chaos and it might as well be him. It would give him something to do, but as Uncle Horace and Aunt Barbara were childless he’d best not get too comfortable. Lord Maurice Hancourt would dismiss his nephew the day he inherited the dukedom, so somehow Colm would have to save enough from his salary to be able to offer his sister a home if she needed one, so he hoped the current Duke would live a long and happy life.
Nell wouldn’t give up her post simply because he wanted her to, so perhaps he could suggest Uncle Horace needed her to stop his houses becoming dusty old book warehouses, because Aunt Barbara wasn’t going to worry about housekeeping when she had so much nature left to paint. Nell couldn’t claim she wasn’t needed then, but he could almost hear her argue she was needed where she was now, thank you very much. He smiled ruefully at the notion his sister was quite happy in her current post as governess to four orphaned girls and virtual mistress of Berry Brampton House. If the Earl of Barberry ever set foot in the place, a single lady with any regard for her reputation would have to leave it though; so Colm had best start saving, even if Barberry had sworn never to visit the estate his family begrudged him so deeply.
Ten minutes later Colm limped up the steps of Linaire House, still mulling over his schemes to get his sister away from her current employment. The butler looked outraged when he limped up the front steps and coldly informed him servants used the rear entrance.
‘I am expected. Mr Hancourt,’ he informed the man with the cold authority he’d used on soldiers who thought him too young to be obeyed, but this man was made of sterner stuff.
‘So you say,’ the butler said with a regal sniff and a contemptuous look at Colm’s shabby garb and the battered portmanteau he was carrying himself.
‘My uncle is eager to have me supervise the unpacking and arranging of the Derneley Library. I wouldn’t like to be the one who delayed that project,’ he said and made as if to leave, even if he had no idea where he would go.
‘His Grace did say he was expecting a member of the family,’ the man said dubiously, but at least Colm was allowed inside so his tall story could be examined.
Hearing voices, the Duke of Linaire emerged from his study. A smile lit his rather homely face and he hurried forward to make Colm feel more welcome here than he ever was as a child. ‘Colm, my boy, how glad I am to see you at last. D’you know the bookbinder says he can’t find that exact shade of Moroccan leather to replace the damaged covers?’ the Duke of Linaire asked as if his nephew was so much a part of his life he didn’t need to explain him to his staff.
‘Let the boy settle in before you put him to work again, Horry.’ Aunt Barbara emerged from the study behind him and greeted Colm with a kiss and a quick hug that made him blink and return it with a feeling he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. ‘Not that I’m not delighted to see you as well, dear. Your uncle has been longing for a sympathetic ear to pour his tale of woe into all morning and I would dearly like to get some of this mist and murk in my sketchbook before the sun breaks through. So you are doubly welcome.’
Colm cast a look at the dreary townscape outside and raised an eyebrow at the unconventional Duchess to say there was little chance of that happening quickly.
‘It seems unlikely now, but I don’t have much interest in old books at the best of times and I’d forgotten how unreal London looks in the fog,’ she admitted with a longing glance out of the window. Colm wondered once again how two people with such different interests could be so devoted to one another. ‘That’s enough of our woes, have you breakfasted, my boy?’ she added, although it was nearly noon.
‘Some time ago, Auntie dear,’ he told her with a grin and she just smiled placidly and told him not to be disrespectful to his poor old aunt. Since his late Uncle Augustus once had him beaten for just speaking in his presence, this was a vast improvement on his last stay at Linaire House already.
‘Then go on up and settle yourself in before your uncle puts you to work. He forgets how ill you were this summer and will answer to me and your sister Nell if he wears you out with his wrong shades of leather and the best way to arrange his musty old books. Then there’s whatever real business you must sort out for us.’
‘This is real business,’ Uncle Horace protested, but shot Colm a concerned look and told him unpacking the undamaged books could wait until tomorrow.
Not quite sure he wanted a day of leisure when his thoughts were still so full of Winterleys, Colm went upstairs to unpack his bag before his uncle’s valet could do it for him, then went downstairs again to find his uncle and see if he had forgotten he had given him the day off yet.
‘Glad you’re here at last, m’boy,’ the Duke of Linaire muttered vaguely.
‘It’s good to be back. Is all well with the books I sent on?’
‘Yes, yes, you did a good job. High time someone rescued that fine collection from Derneley, but I should never have sent you there. Barbara says I should be ashamed of myself for making you keep that disguise you’ve worn for so long.’
‘Lord Derneley didn’t look directly at me once he realised I was wounded at Waterloo and have the scars to prove it. I doubt he’d recognise Carter as your nephew if we happen to meet by chance.’
‘Hah! Man’s a buffoon; doesn’t deserve what you and the other brave lads did to keep him safe in his bed. Not that it will be his bed for much longer if the rumours are true.’
Colm doubted it was officially his right now, but he didn’t want to think about that selfish peer or his empty-headed lady any more. ‘He certainly doesn’t know how to treat fine books. Some are nearly beyond repair.’
His Grace shook his greying head and looked pained. ‘I read your lists as they came in and warned the bookbinders what to expect. Disgraceful, that’s what it is and I had a good mind to drop my price to compensate for all the work that will have to be done in order to get them back to scratch.’
‘I suspect your money is already spent.’
‘Aye, and I shook hands on the deal; Barbara says she’s coming with me if I negotiate for more than a child’s primer from now on, but my word is my bond and I can’t go back on it, can I?’
‘No, even if your money goes the same way as the rest,’ Colm replied and his uncle’s one extravagance was dwarfed by Derneley’s complete set.
‘At least those fine volumes are safe now and I can’t wait to see them set out in good order in their new home. Barbara says I must wait for the plasterers and carpenters to finish before I ship any back to Linaire, though.’
When someone managed to distract the Duchess from her paints for the odd hour she was one of the most rational women Colm had come across. He didn’t blame her for refusing to give up the joy and purpose of her life to run the vast houses her husband had inherited last year. If he had a wife himself, he wouldn’t want her to give up her interests to devote herself to him either. Not that he could afford one, but his aunt and uncle’s marriage was bigger than the usual society match and no wonder they sacrificed so much to make it happen. How wrong to visualise the wife he couldn’t have as dark haired and possessed of a pair of fine green-blue eyes and the warmly irresistible smile Miss Winterley saved for best. She wouldn’t have him if he had stayed the rich grandson of a duke instead of a barely solvent ex-army officer and it was high time he forgot her.
‘Nearly forgot to give you this, Colm.’ His uncle interrupted his thoughts, offering him a tightly sealed letter. ‘Farenze’s man brought it here with your real name on. Thought you wouldn’t want it sent on to Derneley House.’
‘No indeed, thank you,’ he replied as he eyed the crisply folded letter with his lordship’s seal stamped emphatically in the wax and wondered how he’d given himself away. Did he look like his father? Colm wondered, a little bit horrified by the idea and it was too long since he last saw him to know. The Derneleys hadn’t seen through Mr Carter’s plain old clothes to Lord Chris’s son underneath so perhaps he didn’t, but they would never truly look at a servant. A shrewd man like the Viscount might have seen Hancourt traits in him, but the idea felt disturbing.
‘Do you mind if I read this right away, your Grace?’
‘No more of that, lad. Be obliged if you’d call me Uncle Horace. When someone your Graces me, I still think they’re talking to my father or Gus. Makes me shudder if you want the truth.’
‘Me, too,’ Colm admitted.
‘Both tyrants, but they’re dead now,’ said the Sixth Duke with a furtive look round as if to make sure. ‘Had the devil of a job persuading Barbara to marry me because of them and she’s been the making of me. You should find yourself a fine girl with a mind of her own to make you happy after all you went through in Spain and Belgium.’
‘I doubt if I could persuade her to see past my father’s scandal and my empty pockets.’
‘Nonsense, a lady of character will see what a fine fellow you are and never mind the rest.’
The only lady of character he wanted to know that dearly was uniquely designed not to be able to see past who he was, so Colm shook his head, then turned Lord Farenze’s letter over as if that might tell him what the man had to say to Lord Chris’s son without him having to open it. Stay away from my daughter you lying rogue? His heart sank at the idea she knew who he really was and still played the game of pretending he was Carter. Had she and Miss Revereux laughed together about his credulity after their misadventure? Stop torturing yourself and read the confounded thing, his inner officer ordered impatiently.
‘Go and read it before you wear it out, lad. Oh, and your Aunt Barbara has sent for a tailor; he’s to wait on you today so he’ll probably be here soon. Don’t argue, my boy, Barb says she can’t endure dining with a nephew dressed like a curate much more than a week. The man’s to send his bill to me, so don’t argue about that either. Consider it a uniform if you won’t accept it as a gift to my nephew.’
‘I had to pay for my uniform,’ Colm objected half-heartedly.
‘Then take a few decent clothes in the spirit we offer them,’ his uncle said wearily. ‘Dashed if I ever came across anyone as poker-backed as you are.
‘Thank you then, it will be a relief not to worry about paying my tailor,’ Colm said and wished it was really a joke as he wandered upstairs, past his bedchamber and the chance of meeting that tailor before he’d had chance to put Mr Hancourt back together, then up more stairs to the bare rooms where the last Duke grudgingly housed him and Nell until they were old enough for school.
It looked the same as ever; no need to make it bright and comfortable for children his uncle and aunt didn’t have. Colm wondered fleetingly if he might be Duke of Linaire himself one day if Uncle Maurice’s wife kept producing daughters. It wasn’t a prospect he relished, even if he and Nell would have half a dozen old-fashioned homes to choose from. He liked the Duke and the Duchess and would rather have the modest house and a wife to make it a home he had dreamed of when trying to sleep on a bare mountainside or as he and his men were waiting for battle.
Colm went to the governess’s desk and extracted a penknife to slip under Lord Farenze’s seal. He should have known the man was too shrewd to take anyone at face value, but what did the Viscount want? He’d best read the letter instead of staring at it as if it might bite. Addressed in a bold, impatient hand, it was a masterpiece of distant politeness. They had matters to discuss arising from certain documents delivered to Lord Farenze. Since his lordship now knew who Colm was, they probably did as well. Tempted to wait until he had new clothes and looked a little more gentlemanly, Colm limped up to his room and wrote out an offer to call on his lordship tomorrow morning instead.
Chapter Nine (#ulink_0ad269a3-3601-589b-9bf1-e89be4e80f3b)
‘Mr Carter, my lord,’ the Viscount’s stately butler announced Colm solemnly the next day.
‘Come in, Carter, and bring burgundy, please, Oakham,’ Lord Farenze said as if it was quite normal to offer his good wine to a humble clerk.
‘Good morning, my lord,’ Colm said quietly.
‘Don’t stand in the corner like a nervous sheepdog, man, take a seat,’ his host ordered him impatiently.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ Colm said and did as he was bid.
‘Should I feel rebuked by your faux humility?’
‘Of course not, my lord. What right has Mr Carter to correct the manners of his elders and betters?’
‘Oh, touché; you learnt more than you want to admit in your old employment.’
‘Old employment, my lord? What work could a humble clerk do to teach him to be bold?’
‘Recently healed scars and a halt in a man’s step are all too common since Waterloo, so pretending the whole business was nothing to do with you attracts attention rather than deflecting it, Hancourt and you will have to resume your true identity under your uncle’s roof, won’t you?’
‘Did my uncle give me away somehow?’
‘No, your father did. You are the spit of him at the same age,’ the Viscount said dourly, as if he was trying not to hold it against him.
‘Barring the scars, I suppose?’ Colm said, wondering how he felt about being so like his father and what conclusions this man had made about him on the strength of his outward appearance.
‘Your hair is a shade darker and you’re leaner and perhaps taller, but that could be due to you leading an active life before you were injured.’
‘I wouldn’t know whether I look like him or not; there are no portraits of my father left at Linaire House and I don’t really remember what he looked like.’
