London's Perfect Scoundrel (22 page)

Evelyn put her hand across her eyes as the Barrett barouche emerged into the sunlight between the shops of Regent Street. And even worse, she enjoyed being his harlot, his mistress, his lover. He was so…direct. Everyone knew that he took what he wanted—and he obviously wanted her. Being the object of his attentions was so incredibly arousing, she could hardly stand it when they were apart. Perhaps she could stop by the orphanage this afternoon. He might meet her there.

“Well, I never thought it would happen,” Lucinda was saying, and Evie jerked to attention.

“I’m sorry, but what were we talking about?”

“Your apparent success with St. Aubyn. An entire picnic during which, as you reported, he was a perfect gentleman, and now last night he stayed for the entire first half of
As You Like It
. I can think of no other explanation but your lessons in civility and propriety.”

Yes, she and Saint were both so proper and civilized that they’d disappeared to have standing-up sex behind a curtain. “I tend to think it’s just circumstance and coincidence.”

“Does he continue to say shocking things to you?” Lucinda asked, her cheeks dimpling as she grinned.

“At every opportunity,” Evie said, relieved to be able to speak the complete truth for once.

“But no more stolen items?”

Only her virginity
. “No. Nothing I’ve discovered, anyway.”

Lucinda gave a loud sigh. “Evie, what’s wrong? Really? You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know.” Frowning, she searched for something she was prepared to tell her friend, without Lucinda thinking she was a complete and utter fool. “He’s given me four weeks to convince him about the orphanage. I’ve already tried…everything. I have no idea what to say that will change his mind now, when nothing else has.”

Lucinda’s brow furrowed. “But Evie…”

Cold fingers wrapped around her heart. “But what?”

“I’m not entirely certain, so please keep that in mind,” Lucinda said, taking her hands and squeezing them, “but I heard yesterday that Parliament has approved Prince George’s expansion of the new park.”

A roaring began in her ears, louder and louder until she could barely hear Lucinda’s words. “No,” she whispered. He’d promised. Four weeks. She’d been with him last night, as eager as he was for the joining, and he’d said nothing.

She gave a harsh laugh. Of course he hadn’t said anything. If he had, she would never—
never
—have let him touch her again.

And she’d begun to think that perhaps, maybe, he was learning. That he’d changed, at least a little, and that maybe he even…cared about her. He said such nice things, sometimes—but now she knew it was all lies. All of it. And she’d thought he always told the truth. That she could trust him. Ha.

“Lucinda,” she said, realizing tears had begun running down her cheeks, “will you please do me a very, very large favor?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“I need you to go with me to St. Aubyn’s residence. Right now.”

“St. Aub…Are you certain?”

“Oh, yes. I’m quite certain.”

Lucinda evidently believed her, because she nodded and sat forward. “Griffin, we have a change of plans. Please take us to Lord St. Aubyn’s house.”

The driver actually turned around to look at his employer. “Miss Barrett? Did you say—”

“You heard me. At once, if you please.”

“Yes, miss.”

Saint leaned over the railing. “Jansen, have we heard from Carlton House yet?”

The butler emerged into the hallway. “Not yet, my lord. I assure you, I will inform you immediately.”

“Immediately,” Saint repeated, retreating into his office to pace while he waited for permission to see Prinny. Saving the orphanage was at least something about which he could take action, while he tried to determine how best to undermine Alvington and secure a seat for Ruddick. Thank God, Prince George couldn’t do anything without Parliament, someone else’s money, and a thousand advisors. And some fine claret. He stalked to the door again.

“Jansen, I need a case of my best claret.”

“I’ll see to it, my lord.”

Leaving the orphanage open would mean keeping him leg-shackled to the damned place. It wasn’t forever, he reminded himself, cursing. Just until he’d figured out what to do about Evelyn. Another opportunity would come along, or perhaps he could stall the entire park idea for a few months.

Jansen scratched at the half-open door. “My lord?”

“Did you find the claret?”

“Ah, no, my lord. You have callers.”

“I’m not in.”

“Female callers.”

“Then I’m definitely not in. Get the damned claret. I’m off to Carlton House as soon as I receive permission to visit.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Usurping Alvington would be trickier. His own influence in West Sussex was negligible. He had no properties there and no acquaintances who did. Neither did he recall any information he held over anyone there that he could use against them if they didn’t help.

“My lord?”

“Carlton House?” he barked.

“No, my lord.”

“What, then, for God’s sake?”

“They won’t leave. The one says it is most urgent that she see you.”

He sighed. Just what he needed, more female entanglements. “Who are they?”

“They did not give their names. I…don’t recall seeing them here before, my lord, if that narrows the field somewhat.”

Saint sent a glare in his butler’s direction. “Fine. I’ll give them two minutes. And you’d—”

“I’ll notify you at once if the message from Carlton House arrives.”

Grabbing his coat off the back of his chair, Saint shrugged it on as he headed for the stairs. Down in the foyer he could just see a bonnet and the tip of the other’s shoe. If it was those damned charity ladies who came by from time to time looking for donations for the poor, he’d see them out on their backsides for disturbing him.

“Ladies,” he drawled as he reached the bottom of the stairs, “I’m afraid I’m very busy this mor—”

He stopped as they turned to face him.

“Evelyn?”

She rushed forward. His heart pounding, a million disconnected thoughts roiling through his mind, Saint opened his arms to her.

Evelyn punched him in the gut. “You bastard!” she growled. “I hate you, you stupid liar!”

More surprised than hurt, he grabbed her hands to keep her from hitting him again. “What the devil are you talking about?”

She tried to wrench her hands away, but he wasn’t about to set her free. “You lied to me. Let me go!”

“Stop attacking me,” he countered, glancing over his head at her companion. “Miss Barrett? What is she—”

A slippered foot rammed into his knee.

“Ouch!”

“You said I had four weeks! You didn’t even wait four days!”

Saint shook her by the arms, then shoved her backward. “If you come at me again, I will pin you to the floor,” he growled, leaning down to rub his knee. “Now, I presume we’re talking about the…” He looked at Miss Barrett again.

“She knows about the orphanage. Don’t lie to me, Saint. Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“I don’t even know what you’re upset about,” he returned, sinking down onto the bottom stair. “If you must know, I’m waiting to hear from Carlton House so I can call on Prinny and withdraw my offer of the orphanage property.”

A tear ran down her pale cheek. “How can you do that,” she enunciated, her voice shaking, “when Parliament has already approved the park expansion?”

He blinked. Either she was mistaken or something was dreadfully wrong. “What?”

“Don’t pretend you’re surprised,” she retorted. “I
wanted to do one—
one
—important thing, and you’ve made it all into a joke.”

“Evelyn, I—this—are you certain?”

His question seemed to make her hesitate. “Lucinda heard her father talking about it yesterday. About how the Marquis of St. Aubyn had managed to turn an orphanage into a pot of gold.”

“I had no idea. Truly,” he said, knowing she had no real reason to believe him. Earnestness wasn’t precisely his strong suit.

“I wanted you to know that I know,” she said in a slightly steadier voice, “and that I wish I’d never met you. You are the worst person I’ve ever…heard of.”

Women had said such things to him before, but coming from Evelyn, it felt as though she’d punched him again. He stood. “I didn’t know,” he said in a harder voice, “but I intend to find out what’s happened.” Someone had been maneuvering behind his back. Prinny wouldn’t have pressed the project without consulting him, otherwise. “I’ve never lied to you, Evelyn.” He stepped toward her, and she backed away. “I have spent a few days…away, but if something’s happened, I will find out what it is. And I’ll make it right.”

She shook her head, backing toward the door. “Don’t do anything for me,” she shot back at him, swiping tears from her eyes. “It won’t make any difference.”

Saint narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to lose his hold on Evelyn because someone else had outmaneuvered him while he’d been looking at her pretty face. “Evelyn.”

“I have to go now, to find someplace else for those poor children to live. Good-bye, St. Aubyn. I hope to never see you again.”

He let her leave. Obviously she wasn’t going to listen
to anything he said today. Cursing to himself, he stalked out to the stable and ordered Cassius saddled. It wasn’t over between them. He wasn’t ready for that. And so he needed to go see Prince George, whether he was welcome or not.

“I
don’t appreciate this interruption,” Prince George said as he made his way into the private sitting room where they’d stowed Saint. “I’m meeting with the Spanish ambassador, and I’ve a huge dinner party at Brighton over the weekend.”

“You put the park expansion before Parliament,” Saint said flatly. He was attempting to be civil, since shouting would only send Prinny into a faint, but he couldn’t remember ever being this furious before in his life.

“I’m in dire straits,” the Regent returned. “You know that. Those damned politicians insist on holding my purse strings so tightly that light couldn’t escape. It’s intolerable, really, but—”

“I’ve…been out of town,” Saint said grimly. “Why push the issue while I wasn’t here to explain my desire to pay for the thing?”

“It had the backing of your silly orphanage’s board of
trustees. Everyone agreed that the government funds saved as a result of razing the drafty old building would best be used elsewhere.” The prince pulled a silver snuffbox from his pocket, opened the lid, and took a pinch. “You got what you wanted, so stop glaring at me.”

Saint shook his head, using every bit of restraint he had to keep from stalking up to Prinny and punching him. “I’ve changed my mind. The Heart of Hope Orphanage was very…dear to my mother, and I wish to keep it standing.”

Prinny laughed. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

“The chit who’s got you by the balls. ‘Dear to my mother.’ Ha, ha. Very good. Did you deposit a brat in there, and the female’s threatening now to expose it? No one cares, lad. You’re the bloody Marquis of St. Aubyn. It’s expected.”

Saint looked at his Regent for a long moment as it dawned on him that no one would ever believe he did anything without motive. Even Evelyn, who’d tried to convince him that he had the potential to perform selfless acts of kindness, never thought he’d actually done such a thing. And they were right.

“Those children,” he said slowly, sinking into a chair, “consider that old building their home. I’ve…had some consultants in, and we’ve recently begun several programs of education and reform. I think what we’re doing there could make a difference in their lives, Your Majesty. I ask that you keep the orphanage standing.”

“Saint, it’s been voted on. More importantly, it’s been in the newspapers. You’ll look like a fool.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“
I’ll
look like a fool, bowing to the whim of a scoundrel like you. And
I
care about that. Too many
hands in the pot as it is. If I have more people stepping in to make decisions and attempting to sway my opinion, this might as well be a damned democracy. I’m sorry, but the orphanage goes.”

“And the children?”

“You’ve already assigned yourself to finding them new housing. I suggest that you do so. Without delay.” Prinny made his way back to the door. “And come to Brighton on Saturday. The Turkish consul is bringing belly dancers.”

As the prince left, a footman closing the door behind him, Saint rose and went to the window. The Carlton House gardens spread out below him, empty but for a few gardeners and the occasional auspicious visitor. Obviously Prinny wasn’t going to do anything now that the newspapers had printed the story and the orphanage’s trustees had come up with a plausible reason for its destruction that wouldn’t raise the public’s ire.

And of course the board had gotten wind of his scheme when Prinny had broached it to his loudmouthed advisors. With a potential to earn the prince’s gratitude by supporting one of his beloved park projects, and with the chance at freed-up government funds sent in their direction, of course they’d jumped at the chance.

Slowly Saint let the curtains slide closed through his fingers. He’d been bested, probably for the first time in his life. And the cost, he was coming to realize, was much more than pride or money. He drew a breath, disliking the tightness across his chest he’d felt since Evelyn had bidden him good-bye.

She’d said she was going to find the children somewhere else to live. Saint strode to the door, collected his hat, and went to find one of his solicitors. Perhaps he could help her with that.

“Evie, we really shouldn’t be doing this alone,” Lucinda whispered. “Some of these places are—”

“They’re awful,” Evie returned. “I know. But I need to see them all, before St. Aubyn tries to toss those children into whichever holes will hold them.”

The office door squeaked open, and a heavyset man with hanging jowls and small dark eyes stepped behind the small desk and seated himself. “My secretary tells me you’re looking for a place to put a child,” he said, the smooth tone of his voice making Evie shiver. “We can be very discreet here, given an adequate stipend to pay for the child’s food and clothing. Might I ask which of you lovely young ladies is…making a deposit?”

“Oh, good heavens,” Lucinda yelped, shooting to her feet. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard!”

Evie reached over to take her friend’s hand. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Of course. There always is.”

“We are not talking about
a
child,” she said crisply, wondering why she bothered to continue when she already knew that she would never leave any of her children in a facility run by this man. “We’re talking about fifty-three children, all of whom are about to be displaced. I wish to find them a new place to live.”

“Ah, I understand. The Heart of Hope Orphanage, yes? I’d heard the benefactors were closing it. That will never happen at this establishment. It is completely funded by the government.”

“And by donated stipends, apparently,” Lucinda said caustically.

“You must understand, miss, that on occasion children with…imminent parentage are left in our care, and they of course require…special treatment.”

Like Saint’s half-brothers or -sisters
, Evie thought, wondering where they might be now. At least they hadn’t been left here. “I think we’ve learned all we need to,” she said, standing. “Thank you for your time.”

He clattered to his feet. “I do have room for a half dozen or so youngsters under the age of seven. I’d even be willing to donate five quid each for them.”

“Why the young ones?” she asked, beginning to feel quite ill. The more she learned, though, the better prepared she would be to help the children.

“They’re light. We set them to turn drying bricks at the brickworks. Any older, and they’re too heavy—can’t walk across the wet clay without smashing it, you know.”

“Of course. I’ll consider it,” she said, following Lucinda to the door. “Thank you again.”

“My pleasure, ladies.”

Neither of them said anything as they returned to Lucinda’s barouche and moved back out into the streets.

“Oh, my God,” Lucinda finally exploded. “That’s hideous!”

“I’m beginning to think Saint wasn’t so awful,” Evie forced out. “At least he didn’t make the children work, and he kept them fed and clothed without asking for money from their families.”

“St. Aubyn did seem surprised by what you said,” Luce offered.

“That doesn’t matter. Today, or in four weeks, that place”—and she gestured at the low, dark building behind them—“is where he meant for those children to go.”

He’d betrayed her. Michael Edward Halboro had completely betrayed her trust, her growing sense of self-worth, and her heart. And whether he’d been lying or
telling the truth, in the end it didn’t matter. She could never trust him again; he could never redeem himself from this. Everyone had been so right about him, and it hurt so much to realize that she’d been so wrong.

Lucinda offered her a sympathetic smile. “I’d like to meet these children. They seem to have completely captured your heart.”

Evie’d been putting off going to the Heart of Hope Orphanage all morning, hoping to have some good news to carry with her. Each establishment she and Lucinda visited, though, seemed worse than the last. And the children needed to know, and to begin to prepare themselves for what very likely lay ahead.

“I’ll take you,” she said, and gave the direction to the driver.

By now the various attendants at the orphanage were used to her comings and goings. Evelyn was therefore surprised to see Mrs. Natham hurrying down the stairs to meet them.

“Miss Ruddick,” the housekeeper said, distress on her hard face. “Is it true? That awful St. Aubyn is going to tear the orphanage down?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so, Mrs. Natham. Have the children heard?”

“Some of them, I think. Oh, I knew I should’ve thrown away that key the minute I saw him in there.”

Evelyn glanced at Lucinda, who was giving the housekeeper increasingly puzzled looks. If even those she trusted as much as her friends knew that she’d kidnapped St. Aubyn, they would lose considerable sympathy for her cause. Mrs. Natham evidently knew about Saint’s imprisonment, but she also seemed to think it had
been a good idea. She would have to ask Saint…Except that she couldn’t. Not any longer.

“Yes, I know how conscientious you are,” she said. “Thank you for that. Are the children at their lessons?”

“Yes, Miss Ruddick. But what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m open to suggestions.”

The housekeeper wandered away, shaking her head. Hoping Lucinda wouldn’t ask any questions about keys and who had been locked up where, Evelyn took her friend’s hand and led her to the classrooms.

“How are you going to tell them?”

“I’ll just have to do it directly. They deserve to know the truth.” She took a deep breath. “I’d give anything not to have to give them this news,” she admitted. “But that would be both unfair and cowardly.”

“And I notice which marquis isn’t here to assist you,” Lucinda commented.

“He wasn’t invited.”

Evelyn leaned into each classroom and asked the instructors to have the children meet her in the ballroom when their lessons were finished. Lucinda stayed quietly at her side, and she’d never been more grateful for her friend’s support.

“Miss Evie!” Penny exclaimed, leading the charge up the wide staircase, Rose on her heels.

She welcomed the girls’ hugs, though she felt as if she didn’t deserve them. She’d failed—again. And this time she had no solution at all.

Saint felt tired to his bones. Over the past three days he’d slept for perhaps five hours, and those badly.

“My lord, Mr. Wiggins has brought the papers you requested.”

Wearily Saint set aside the legal treatise he’d been reading. Rising from the library’s comfortable chair, he made his way to the table with its disorganized stacks of books and papers. “Let’s see them.”

Jansen and another footman carried in two leather-bound stacks of papers. “Mr. Wiggins also wished me to inform you that the owner of the property you viewed this morning will be in London tomorrow.”

Saint nodded. “That’s good news. Thank you.”

The footman left, but the butler hesitated in the doorway. “My lord?”

“Yes?”

“I…took the liberty of having Mrs. Dooley prepare some soup this evening. Will you be staying in?”

Something tickled at the back of Saint’s mind. “What day is it, anyway?”

He thought he caught a brief smile on Jansen’s face before the butler resumed his usual stoic expression. “Today is Friday, my lord.”

“Friday.” Saint yanked out his pocket watch. Eight-fifteen. “Damnation. I’m late. Send Pemberly upstairs,” he said, rising and striding for the door.

By the time he rapped on the door of Lord and Lady Houton’s, it was nearly nine in the evening. Eager as he was to see Evelyn after three days, he knew she wouldn’t be pleased to see him. That troubled him, because just to spite him she was likely to ally herself with Clarence Alvington, and he needed her to agree to an outing with him tomorrow.

“Lord St. Aubyn,” the Marquis of Houton greeted him, standing to shake his hand. “I hope you don’t mind that we began dinner without you.”

Saint deliberately kept his gaze away from Evelyn. He needed to concentrate for a few moments, and he
wouldn’t be able to do it with her glaring at him. “Houton. Good of you to have me. I apologize for my tardiness. A late meeting with my solicitor, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, we’d heard you and Prince George were closing a transaction on land for a new park,” Victor Ruddick drawled, rising as well.

Wincing inwardly, Saint nodded. “Buildings in London are easy to come by; parks, however, are becoming more scarce by the moment.”

“Indeed they are,” Wellington said, holding out his hand. “Thank you again for that splendid bottle of sherry, Saint. I’ve never tasted finer.”

“My pleasure, Your Grace.” He took the seat between Lady Alvington and Mrs. Ruddick, noting that it placed him exactly opposite Evelyn. That would make it rather difficult not to gaze at her, especially when with every fiber of his being he wanted to drag her out of the room and make her understand what had happened.
Contrition
. Another new emotion for him. He was finding bagsful, these days. “So tell me, Your Grace, have you and Mr. Ruddick discovered any mutual acquaintances in India?”

That began the conversation, which he’d interrupted with his arrival, going again, and served to remind Victor that he was the reason Wellington was chatting with him now. Not bad, for one sentence. Taking a breath, he settled the napkin in his lap and raised his eyes.

Evelyn sat chatting with Clarence Alvington, having apparently found the pearl pin in the fop’s cravat an item of unparalleled interest. She was being charming again, no doubt on her brother’s behalf, but Saint wondered whether she’d yet figured out why Mr. Ruddick kept sending Alvington in her direction.

He’d
figured it out, and he didn’t like it one damned
bit. “Clarence, I haven’t seen you at Gentleman Jackson’s lately,” he drawled, digging into the roast pork as soon as a footman brought it by.

“No, I’m afraid I’ve been engaged with writing a poem,” the Neckcloth answered, sending a fond glance in Evelyn’s direction.

Saint wanted to strangle the bastard. “A poem?”

“A sonnet, actually.”

He and Clarence had little in common, and they certainly traveled in different circles. The outlandish intricacy of his neckcloth and the near-to-bursting seams of his waistcoat and jacket, however, gave Saint a fair indication of just how good his poetry was likely to be. As a longtime gambler, he was willing to risk Evelyn’s admiration of the piece. “Why don’t you regale us with it, then?”