Unmasking Deception, page 10
And then she worried Dominic would be gone by the time she returned home. Adrian could as easily admit Lord Richard to the cellar as she could. Though the thought of her mother’s confusion at his lordship’s sudden appearance did bring a wan smile to her lips.
However, she had only just removed Pup’s leash and left him to the children when a decisive knock sounded at the front door. Since she was close by, she opened it and beheld Lord Richard Gorse himself.
He looked somewhat surprised to see her doing the work of servants but made her a brief bow. “Is it an inconvenient time to call?”
“Um, no, of course not, come in,” she muttered, pulling herself together.
“Viola, who is it?” her mother demanded from across the hall. “Where is Sarah? Oh!” she added, stunned as Viola stood aside to reveal the imposing figure of Lord Richard Gorse. “You must forgive the informality, sir. Please, step into the salon.”
“Tea, if you please, Sarah,” Viola said quietly as the maid scuttled through the baize door to the servants’ quarters.
“I don’t believe we have met?” Mama said uncertainly as they faced Lord Richard in the salon.
“I had the pleasure of making Miss Dove’s acquaintance at Mrs. Dorland’s ball the other evening,” Lord Richard said easily.
“This is Lord Richard Gorse, Mama,” Viola murmured, “Lord Rampton’s brother. Sir, my mother, Mrs. Dove.”
“Please, sit down,” Mama invited graciously when they had each bowed and curtseyed. “The weather looks damp this morning, my lord. I hope you were not rained upon!”
Lord Richard, who had made no small talk whatsoever in Viola’s hearing before, showed himself as capable of it as any other gentleman. Having manfully held his own on the subject of the weather, he introduced that of summer flowers in Hyde Park and claimed to have called to ask Viola which was her favorite flower, so he could have a bouquet made up for tonight’s ball.
Viola gazed at him in open admiration of such quick-wittedness until she caught her mother’s eye. “I believe I like simple rosebuds,” she said hastily. “But how did you know we are attending the ball?”
“I asked my sister-in-law,” Lord Richard said with the simplicity of truth.
Viola suspected he had said something like, “What do you know of a girl called Viola Dove?”
And the answer had no doubt been, “Oh, the Doves are related to the Harlaws. Wenning is the mother’s cousin, I believe. They are quite dull but respectable people. In fact, they will be here this evening.”
Dragging her mind back to reality, Viola returned to the subject of flowers and Hyde Park and walking the dog. Fortunately for their meager supply of innocuous subjects, Lord Richard did not stay beyond the time it took him to drink half a cup of tea. And only as he took leave of Viola did he reveal the true purpose of his visit.
“Two, by the back gate,” he breathed through a smile as he bowed over her hand.
She smiled back to prove she had heard and understood. “Until this evening,” she responded for her mother’s benefit.
“Well,” Mama said when he had gone. She appeared to be impressed in spite of herself. “He is a younger son, of course, but he is a war hero. I’m sure the marquess would do something handsome for him, and he would be quite a feather in your cap. If you didn’t mind the arm.”
“Oh Mama, I can’t marry everyone who is kind to me,” Viola said hastily.
*
Dominic had made a mistake. He should never have kissed Viola at all. Not even the almost chaste peck on the lips that had begun it. After that, who could have resisted the warm, open invitation in her turned-up face? Not Dominic, who rarely turned down such invitations from girls who had caught his roving eye.
But Viola was not an opera dancer, he lashed himself as he paced the cellar like a caged animal the following morning. Nor was she some sophisticated lady of the ton looking for an affaire de coeur. She was an innocent young girl of good family who had shown him only kindness. He owed her his freedom, if not his very life. And he liked her. He should not have treated her with such disrespect.
The trouble was, it hadn’t felt like disrespect at the time. It had felt…right. And indeed, no other woman had stirred him to the same extent as Viola, with her shy, wondering kisses and awakening passion… She was beautiful, intriguing, a mystery just waiting to be unwrapped…and vulnerable, not just to him but to the law and to other forces he didn’t quite understand yet. A would-be sacrifice on the altar of the marriage mart to keep her family on the right side of poverty.
He had not treated her with the respect due to her person or her station or his own gratitude. And she had known it when she had stormed off. It had taken him a little longer to work it out, dazed as he was by the incomparable sweetness of her kisses, of holding her in his arms. And by blind lust, that too.
Abruptly, he stopped his pacing as the sound of the cellar key turning broke into his self-recrimination. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation of Viola, but it was Adrian and Susan, the youngest girl, who loped down the steps with a tray that Napper seized from them joyously.
He masked his disappointment in banter with the children, whom he rather liked. But when the other children appeared at midday, with more food and no sign of Viola, he began to suspect that he would not even get the chance to apologize to her.
“Lord Richard called on Viola,” Catherine informed him. “And he managed to tell her—in front of Mama, which I think was very clever—that he will come for you at two of the clock. We’ll let him in from the mews.”
“So, we are to be ready to go?” Napper said sharply. “Where?”
“Lord Richard didn’t tell Viola.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll tell me before we go,” Dominic told Napper.
Collecting their things for departure wasn’t difficult since they had nothing but what they’d come in—and one of the late Mr. Dove’s shirts, since Dominic’s was too bloody to wear.
At almost exactly two o’clock, while the children played outside in the garden with Pup, Viola finally appeared in the cellar with Richard, who was carrying a package wrapped in brown paper.
Viola, wearing a dull gray cloak, bore a faint frown he longed to smooth from her brow. All he could do for her now was leave, which shouldn’t make him so unhappy.
Richard distracted him almost immediately by throwing the parcel down the stairs, perhaps to make it easier to balance as he walked down the steps. Dominic caught it and tore the paper—to reveal two brightly colored livery coats of the type worn by footmen. The Sedgemoor footmen.
“He won’t have me in the house,” Dominic said flatly, dropping the parcel on the sofa. “And I wouldn’t trust him not to have me arrested if he did.”
“Irrelevant,” Richard said, making his way down the steps. “You won’t be serving him but me. I’ve taken rooms just off Piccadilly.”
“For me?” Dominic said wryly. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I didn’t. I’d had enough of Rampton. There are wigs in there, too, to aid the disguise. You’ll play at being my servants while we clear this up.”
Although most of his attention was on Viola, willing her to look at him as she followed Richard down the steps, the last words caught his attention. “Clear this up? Then you finally believe I didn’t knife an acquaintance to steal his winnings?”
To his surprise, Richard flushed—just a little, but enough to show he was uncomfortable. “You know perfectly well I never believed that to have been your motive. Perhaps I should have thought a little more deeply than just assuming you were always going to the devil. To be honest, I thought you would enjoy a different life.”
Dominic stared at him. “In Botany Bay?”
“It would have been an adventure,” Richard pointed out.
In spite of himself, a breath of laughter hissed out between Dominic’s teeth. “I’ll give you that. But if I ever do travel to the other side of the world, I’d rather it wasn’t under the cloud of a cowardly murder.”
“Then put these on.”
Dominic glanced at Napper’s doubtful face. “I can’t help thinking it will cause talk among Mrs. Dove’s neighbors if two liveried servants emerge from her cellar and leave by the garden gate.”
Viola spoke. “Which is why even now the children are playing a game outside that involves them leaping in and out of the garden gate, wearing their traveling cloaks. If you can manage to do the same, a casual glance will see no difference.”
As though on cue, the cellar door burst open, and two of the children bolted inside. They grinned, took off their cloaks, and pushed them down the narrow banister rail to Viola.
“It was Miss Dove’s idea,” Richard said apologetically.
“There is no need to tell me that.” It bore all the hallmarks of the same reckless fun that had extracted them from Maida Gardens. He cast her a quick, conspiratorial smile, but she avoided his eyes and the shared memory. It shouldn’t have hurt.
She unfastened her cloak and passed it to Richard. Only then did she glance at Dominic and then Napper. “Good luck. I look forward to hearing how it goes for you both.” With that, she turned and walked upstairs.
The impossibility of saying what he had to in such circumstances made Dominic furious, especially as Adrian appeared just then, handing his cloak to Viola and merrily tossing two caps down to Dominic.
The cellar door closing sounded ominous and stupidly, unbearably sad. But there was nothing he could do except struggle into his livery, stuff the wig in his pocket, and cover the whole with a dull grey cloak.
“There’s a hackney waiting just by the gate,” Richard said. “I’ll go first and wait for you.”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Napper asked when they were alone.
“No. But we can’t stay here. Shall we?”
“Watch your wound,” Napper growled as he threw open the door.
As Dominic had expected, the garden was full of leaping, cloaked figures, one of whom bolted past them into the cellar as they emerged. Pup, tied to a clothes pole, was barking madly. Dominic strode about, head down, while Napper ran for the gate, crossing with a laughing Catherine on the way.
Dominic found Viola beside Pup. “Thank you,” he muttered. “And I’m sorry.”
At that, finally, her gaze snapped round to him, her eyes suddenly blazing. “For what?”
“Last night…”
“Don’t dare,” she choked out. “Just don’t.” And she brushed past him toward the cellar.
In concern, he started after her before he realized he was ruining the plan. That he had to leave, but it seemed a miserable way to part from Viola, who had so quickly become his savior, his friend, his…
Stop! Furious with himself, he charged through the garden, feeling the strain on his wound. He had an escort of Adrian and Susan by the time he reached the gate, and their grins were at least some salve to his confusion. He winked at them, slipped out the gate, and closed it before stepping into the carriage where his brother and Napper awaited.
Richard knocked on the roof with his cane, and the hackney moved on. Dominic couldn’t help smiling when Pup’s large head sprang briefly into view over the top of the gate.
*
Richard’s rooms were on the edge of the fashionable area for single gentlemen’s accommodation, but they were spacious enough to include two small bedchambers for staff.
“To all intents and purposes, I have just hired you two,” he said. “Ostensibly for running my errands and carrying messages. Lameness, it seems, has its uses. Though, obviously, this is for show, should anyone come across you here and ask, which I hope they won’t. Don’t be seen without the wigs and livery.”
Dominic, dropping his wig on the nearest chair, said only, “What drove you to this?”
“A dislike of company, ironically enough. But it seems to have come in useful.”
“Viola tells me there is a ball at Sedgemoor House this evening. Will you go?”
Richard sighed. “Yes, of course. And I shall even find opportunity to speak to your old friends, Jarvey and Minton.” He eased himself into a chair, clearly in pain.
Dominic scowled at him. “Can Napper make us some tea? It’s beyond my skills.”
Richard’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “If he’d be so good.”
Napper wandered off in search of the means, while Richard said, “If we’re to find out the truth of what happened to Crawley, we need more than the word of your gaming companions. I took the liberty of engaging the services of a man called X who is very good at finding out truths, inconvenient and otherwise.”
“Thanks,” Dominic said in some surprise.
“Don’t mention it.”
Although Richard’s rooms, with access to daylight, were undeniably more comfortable than the cellar, perversely, Dominic found himself missing the noise and laughter of the Dove children with their silly games and inconvenient dog. He missed the anticipation of the cellar door opening to reveal Viola.
But he seemed to have annoyed her to the extent of being glad to be rid of him. No wonder.
“Don’t dare!” she had said fiercely when he had tried to apologize for his conduct. What the devil did she mean by that? He had invaded her privacy, taken advantage of her good nature, kissed her, and yet she had only ever been visibly angry with him for that apology.
Because she didn’t want last night’s kiss referred to again?
Or because…
Oh, no, do not be coxcomb enough to imagine yourself so irresistible to the only female… His thoughts fell into confused disarray here, apart from the acknowledgment that Viola was different from any other woman he knew, friend or lover. He liked that. He didn’t like that she was angry with him.
He did, very much, like the idea of approaching her again when this was over, if it was ever over, and he had recovered his name and his liberty.
After a meal shared with his “guests,” Richard dragged himself into his bedchamber to change into his uniform for the evening. He emerged looking aloof, grumpy, and smart. Even his cravat, though simply tied, was neat. Dominic didn’t underestimate what even such simple tasks cost him. And as Richard limped across the floor, the last of Dominic’s prison bitterness disintegrated.
“I doubt I’ll stay until the end,” Richard said grimly. “Just stay hidden.”
“No carousing,” Dominic warned him cheerfully.
Richard shot him a look. “Likewise.”
Dominic’s smile faded as the door closed behind his brother. It came almost as a shock to realize he wished he was going, too. To see his family and friends, to dance and flirt with pretty women. Viola…
“I never really cared for formal parties,” he told Napper. “Avoided them if I could. But I wouldn’t mind going to this one.”
“It would be a dramatic way to be arrested,” Napper allowed.
“Actually, it wouldn’t,” Dominic replied, more for the sake of argument than anything else. “No one would look at me. No one notices servants at a ball.” That was true, though no reason for the sudden excitement quickening his heartbeat.
“Don’t even think about it,” Napper growled.
Dominic laughed. He wasn’t thinking about it. Not then. There was no point if he could not dance with Viola.
Only then, as his restlessness grew and Napper shut himself in one of the tiny bedchambers for an early night, his need to see Viola grew.
I could at least see Minton and Jarvey without them noticing me. It might jolt my memory.
And I might be able to speak to her. To make things right with her…
He should stay away from her, for her sake.
But she kissed me. I have a chance with her.
A chance of what?
Love. A chance of love.
Chapter Nine
The idea that his brother seriously meant to cut him out with Viola struck George Minton at Lady Rampton’s ball when he saw her waltzing with Alfred. Previously, he’d assumed Alfred’s interest to be feigned, merely to annoy George. But he was actually laughing at something the girl said to him, and there was a genuinely intrigued expression on his face. He was not remotely bored.
Damn Alfred. Had he picked on the same plan?
George snatched a glass of champagne from a passing bewigged footman and tried not to watch.
“Minton,” murmured a voice at his side.
Gareth Jarvey stood at his side, amiably watching the dancers. “Pretty little thing. Very appealing, I’m sure. But no fortune, sadly. None at all.”
“No personal fortune.”
Jarvey cocked an intelligent eyebrow. “Think you can persuade Wenning to do something handsome for his cousin? If he does it for one, he’d have to do it for all his cousins, and then he’d be left poorer than they are.”
“We’ll see,” Minton murmured. He glanced once more at Jarvey. “Where have you been for the last week? Afraid young Dominic Gorse is coming for you?”
“Shut up, Minton,” Jarvey muttered, looking about him uneasily as though Minton was likely to speak such words where they could be overheard. “If he has anything on his mind except escaping the country on his own terms, it’s you he’d come for first.”
Minton treated that with the contemptuous silence it deserved.
Jarvey murmured, “Any word from the magistrates?”
“None.”
“Me neither. He’s probably in France by now.”
Minton hoped so, for Gorse’s escape was a nagging anxiety, pushing forward the urgency for money and powerful allies. Likely, Dom would end up in central Europe, or perhaps even America, and go happily to the devil, well away from London. But until he knew for certain, the youngest Gorse was a nagging worry he couldn’t quite shake off.
Viola, the rather sweet cousin of the Earl of Wenning, danced into his line of vision once more. In Alfred’s arms. George scowled.
“Not dancing, I see, gentlemen,” a deep voice murmured behind them, and they both turned to behold one of their host’s younger sons, Lord Richard, who had been wounded at Waterloo and now lacked an arm.
