A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (115 page)

“
Indeed.” No matter how
engaging Jane might be, Peter didn’t need rumors floating through
the
beau monde
about the two of them. The thought of yet again being forced
into a marriage—a marriage which clearly neither of them
desired—was dreadful.

Lady Fontaine smiled, leaving only
slits of her eyes showing. “Really, sir, you should not fight so
hard. Love will take you, whether you consent or not.”

~ * ~

Lady Plumridge, a chubby old harridan
with hair as ugly and gray as her eyes, met him outside in the
courtyard of Hardwicke House at the appointed time. “Well, Utley?
I’ve not got all night, you know. You said you would make this
worth my while.”

He pulled another drag of his cheroot
and eyed her. Blasted fussy woman. But he needed her. At least for
tonight. Tomorrow she could crawl into a pile of horse manure and
die if it would make her happy. He certainly wouldn’t be bothered
by such a turn of events.

“
It will be worth your
while. You’ll have the scandal of the Season so you can finally
best that twit, Lady Kibblewhite. But shut your damned mouth for
two more minutes while I finish my smoke, and then we’ll get on
with it.”

She huffed and snapped one slippered
foot against the floor, but she kept quiet, at least. Rolls of fat
jiggled and bounced at the movement. Disgusting.

Years ago, old Plumridge should have
done himself a favor and suffocated her with a pillow in her sleep.
Then he could have found some other young thing, a pretty chit at
least, and brought her to his bed. Instead he was forced to lie
with this pig of a woman, who’d been using his fortune to support
her rapidly growing stomach, all the while doing her best to keep
London’s gossip mill afloat.

Utley took another long drag. Tonight,
his fortunes would continue their recent change for the better. Who
cared if his target might someday become as obese as the hag before
him? Once he had the settlement Somerton had offered for her, he
could send her to live in Surrey and never look upon her
again.

Or better yet, he could suffocate her,
much like Plumridge ought to have done.

Either way, he wouldn’t have to look
at her. He could simply put her dowry to good use.

In fact, the funds he would soon add
to his fortune would be more than enough to fund a mistress, if he
desired one. Which he did. Anyone would be better than that
uncouth, vulgar woman, Jane Matthews. And with her fortune in his
control, he could afford nearly any mistress he so
chose.

He would simply get her alone and
build a scandal, and his success would be ensured. As would his
future.

Not to mention Somerton’s
downfall.

“
Are you quite finished?”
Lady Plumridge asked, interrupting his revelry. “I should like to
return to the ballroom sometime before I catch my death from
cold.”

Utley tossed the cheroot to the
ground, stubbing the embers with his booted toe.

“
Excuse yourself from the
ballroom at the end of the supper dance. Go above stairs to the
family’s apartments. You’ll encounter your scandal
there.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s
all?” Her voice shook, along with the rest of her.

“
That’s all.”

She turned and hurried back toward the
warmth of the house, stopping only when he called out to her
again.

“
Lady Plumridge? You won’t
fail me, will you? The entire party must learn of the scandal you
find this evening. I want it in tomorrow’s society
papers.”

“
You selected me and not
someone else for just that purpose, didn’t you? Trust
me.”

He inclined his head, aggravation
etching his eyebrows together in a fierce knot, and she nodded
before resuming her jiggling, bounding stride.

By tomorrow morning, Utley’s mounting
financial concerns would be gone, and his retaliation against
Somerton would be complete. Rawden would finally be
avenged.

~ * ~

“
Shall we go in to supper,
then?” Lord Sinclaire tucked Jane’s hand into the crook of his arm
and started leading her without waiting for a reply.

With her smile from the afternoon
still planted firmly on her face, she nodded. “That would be
lovely. Perfectly lovely.” Drat, would she ever not sound like an
imbecile again? Nothing seemed to be coming out of her mouth the
way she wanted any more, but she hadn’t the slightest idea how to
change that.

Ahead of them in the sea of hungry
people, Sophie stood at Lord Pottinger’s arm, gesturing to them
with her free hand.

The crowd moved almost as one, herding
them all toward the dining room.

A small voice, young and female,
called out, “Miss Jane? Miss Jane?”

It had to be Sarah. “Sarah? Where are
you?” But what on earth was Peter’s little girl doing out of bed at
this hour? Jane stopped and scanned the crowd behind her. How would
she ever find the child in the midst of the large, adult bodies
surging toward her like the tide?

Lord Sinclaire also stopped and helped
her search.

“
You heard her, too? Tell
me you heard her.” Jane pushed through the onslaught, ignoring the
startled calls and surprised expressions her actions
incited.

Sinclaire stayed close behind. “She’ll
be crushed in the middle of this,” he said. “We have to get to her.
Sarah?”

“
Miss Jane,” she heard
again, much closer this time.

Four more bodies moved aside, trying
to get past them and to supper, and finally Jane could see the
little girl, reddish-blonde curls flopping about her head. Sarah’s
feet trod along the bottom of her nightgown, nearly causing her to
trip over the fabric. Tears filled her eyes and fell in a trickle
down her cheeks.

Jane rushed to her side and knelt to
the floor. “What is it, sweetheart?” The little girl wrapped her
arms around her neck and held on so tightly breathing grew
difficult.

Lord Sinclaire stood behind them,
presenting a large, immovable force to ensure no one trampled
them.

“
I had,” Sarah said and
sniffled, “a bad...dream.” A hiccup followed soon behind. “Where is
Papa? I want my Papa.”

The poor, little dear. Jane took a
cursory look across the ballroom to where the guests were headed
for supper. She would never find Peter in the mess.
Drat.

How on earth had the child made her
way to the ballroom without being discovered and ushered back to
the safety of the nursery by one of the countless servants about?
Fat lot of good they were doing.

She rose and pulled Sarah
up into her arms. “Lord Sinclaire, would you be so kind as to
inform His Grace? I’ll just take Sarah back up to the nursery and
settle her in bed.” And then once the child was asleep again, she’d
pull the nurse out into the hall for a blistering set-down for
allowing the little girl to wander about a house full of adult
strangers...unless Peter took over that particular responsibility
when he arrived. But Lord Sinclaire need not know
all
of Jane’s
plans.

“
Of course. I’ll send him
along as soon as possible.” He inclined his head before hurrying
away.

Jane watched long enough to see that
no one was paying them any mind, then carried her new charge up the
winding staircase.

“
Was it an awful dream?”
she asked, hoping to get the child talking.

“
Dreadful,” Sarah answered
on a sob.

“
Terrible?”

The little girl’s eyes widened and she
nodded solemnly.

“
Would you like to tell me
about the dream, Sarah?” Surely it would help her go back to sleep
if she could tell what had happened and then have it all banished
away.

“
No,” Sarah wailed.
“Please, he’ll come back. Don’t make me tell you.”

“
All right. You don’t have
to talk about it.” Double drat. Now what?

They had reached the children’s
nursery, still with no sign of Peter or Lord Sinclaire. For that
matter, there was no sign of Mrs. Pratt. What sort of nurse would
leave her charges alone on a night such as this, with a house full
with people the children didn’t know?

Something would have to be done about
that, to be sure. Jane would take the matter up with Peter first
thing in the morning.

She turned to close the door behind
her, but Mr. Cuddlesworth streaked past her and into the room at
the last moment, nearly toppling Jane in his haste. She stumbled to
Sarah’s bed in the dark, carrying the child the whole way, then lay
down beside the child and held her. Mr. Cuddlesworth leapt to the
bed and shoved his way between them, purring
contentedly.

“
So you intend to spend the
night with Sarah, then, do you?” she whispered in the darkness.
“Very well. I imagine she needs you tonight more than I
do.”

Between the cat’s purring and Jane’s
stroking of Sarah’s back, the child was back to sleep in no time.
Jane eased out of the bed, careful not to wake the girl. “You stand
guard, Mr. Cuddlesworth, since Mrs. Pratt has gone
missing.”

Of course, her cat made no response
other than to curl up closer to the warmth provided by Sarah and
flick his fluffy tail in her direction.

Still, Lord Sinclaire and Peter had
not arrived. Good Lord, what was taking them so long?

Jane moved carefully over to Joshua’s
bed, checking to be sure he was both present and asleep before she
left. He was breathing heavily and tucked snugly into his sheets,
so it was safe enough for her to leave. She’d find Peter and he
could arrange for a servant to stay with the children. Or if she
couldn’t find Peter, she would fetch Meg from her chambers. That
would be a better use for the girl, anyway. She should have thought
of that long ago.

Jane slipped out of the nursery,
struggling to see in the dim glow of candlelight in the hall as she
pulled the door to a close behind her.

Really, the nerve of that Mrs. Pratt,
leaving those children alone on a night like this! It was all Jane
could do to keep from marching through the entire house right that
moment to find the woman and tell her what for.

A familiar scent hit her
nostrils—cheroot and whiskey, and a rather foul odor that smelled
more like the streets of London than the inside of Hardwicke House
should, what with all the flowers strewn about.

She squinted to find the source of the
smell in the dim light, but couldn’t discern anything out of the
ordinary. Gracious, had it been so dark in the hall when she
arrived with Sarah moments ago? She didn’t think so, but couldn’t
quite recall. The footmen must be enjoying the revelry of the
night, too, for them to have neglected the lighting. But then
again, with Mrs. Pratt missing, too… She’d best proceed carefully.
Lord only knew what was afoot in the townhouse tonight.

Taking a lit candle from its sconce on
the wall, she turned to relight a few of the nearby candles. It
wouldn’t do for one of the children to wake again and be unable to
see to find someone, and she could stand to see more clearly,
herself, as she found her way back to the stairs.

Once two candle flames flickered back
to life, that same foul scent struck her nostrils again. What on
earth could be causing it? Jane held her candle up into the air,
hoping to cast its glow upon the source of the odor.

“
Looking for me, sweeting?”
drawled a sickeningly familiar voice from the shadows. “How
fortuitous for us both. I was looking for you, as well.”

Utley. It had to be him. No one else
in her acquaintance could make her want to scream and cast up the
contents of her stomach at the same time.

Her eyes darted about the long
expanse. Maybe Mrs. Pratt or one of the missing footmen would
miraculously reappear in the hallway. She hoped. Probably
foolishly, but she hoped, nonetheless.

No one came.

Drat. Drat, drat, drat!

She could scream. Hopefully, someone
other than the children would hear her. Surely Peter and Lord
Sinclaire were on their way up the stairs by now. Somewhere—perhaps
somewhere on this floor—a servant must be at work. Jane’s screams
would be heard. Wouldn’t they?

Or she could toss her candlestick at
him and run. The flame wouldn’t burn him much, so it likely
wouldn’t really slow him down. She might make it to the stairs
before he caught her. If she was lucky.

Oh, lud, why couldn’t she make up her
mind, or have someone else around to make it up for her? It would
all be so much easier to act if Sophie was standing beside her and
telling her what to do.

What would Sophie do?

Jane’s internal debates took too long.
Utley emerged from the shadows faster than she could react, placing
a hand firmly against her mouth, rendering it impossible to scream,
and pulling her back hard against him.

Damnation, she had finally
decided to scream
and
run. Now all she could do was kick.