Promise of Pleasure (35 page)
Read Promise of Pleasure Online
Authors: Cheryl Holt
Victoria frowned.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m off to London.”
“No, you’re not. Go upstairs and put that bag away.”
“No.”
“I’ve had nothing but sass from one daughter today. I don’t need more from you. Do as I say. At once!”
“Not this time and not ever again.”
Victoria stood, so angry she was shaking.
“You will not disobey me.”
As if Victoria hadn’t spoken, Cassandra said, “I’m taking the carriage. I’ll send it back next week.”
“You’re being absurd. I don’t grant you my permission.”
“Fine then. I’ll embarrass you by riding on the public coach.” She whirled away as if she’d march out that very second.
“What has gotten into you?” Victoria asked. “I will not tolerate any drama.”
“I’m not expecting you to. I simply stopped by to inform you that I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.”
“Not coming back? You’re talking in riddles.”
“Let her go, Mother,” Felicity chimed in. “She’s always so dreary. We don’t need her moping around.”
“Ah, sisterly love,” Cassandra mocked. “Isn’t it touching?”
“Felicity,” Victoria snapped, “go to your room.”
“Yes, Felicity,” Cassandra echoed, “go to your room. You behave like a spoiled toddler; you should be treated like one.”
Felicity leapt up. “Shut up, you witch.”
Victoria sighed. Why had she been saddled with two such unlikable, ungrateful children?
“What will you do for money?” Victoria asked Cassandra. “If you mean to beg me for some, I won’t give you any.”
“I don’t need any money.”
“Really?” Victoria sneered. “And how, precisely, will you get on without my assistance?”
“I’m marrying again.”
“You? Marrying? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. Good-bye.”
She sauntered out as Victoria watched, her mouth gaping in shock. Cassandra never argued, never refused to follow Victoria’s commands.
What had happened to her?
Victoria shook off her stupor and huffed after Cassandra, Felicity hot on their heels. They caught up with her behind the carriage as she was checking to ensure that her trunks were safely stowed.
“Who would be crazy enough to marry you?”
“Lord Redvers’s friend, Paxton Adair.”
Victoria sucked in a frantic breath.
“You will not! I forbid it! I won’t have that . . . that . . . slothful wretch in my family.”
“I’m not asking you to. He and I are sailing for Jamaica, so you’ll never have to see either one of us again.”
Victoria wondered if she might faint.
“Cassandra! You’re acting like a madwoman.”
“No, I’m not. This is the first sane thing I’ve done in years.” She climbed in the vehicle, and a footman closed the door. She leaned out the window. “I plan to spread rumors about Felicity in town that Redvers cried off because he learned an atrocious secret about her.”
“What?” Victoria and Felicity shrieked in unison.
“We were always despicable to Mary, so I figure she deserves some revenge.”
“Don’t speak to me about Mary.”
“Lord Redvers was fond of her, and I’m certain he’s speculated as to why she never had a dowry. I’ve been curious, too. I’m going to request that he have Father’s papers examined. I’m hoping we can sue you and win a settlement for her from Father’s estate.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. You shouldn’t have sent her away, Mother. It was too cruel, and your punishment shall be that no aristocrat ever offers for Felicity. I’ll see to it with every bit of vicious innuendo I can devise.”
“You horrid girl,” Victoria charged.
“I’m ruined!” Felicity moaned.
“Don’t ever return to Barnes Manor,” Victoria threatened. “When you wind up broke and living on the streets, don’t slither home. I won’t take you in.”
“Don’t worry, Victoria. This was never home, and I will never be back.”
Cassandra rapped on the roof to signal the driver. He clicked the reins, and the carriage rolled away.
PHILLIP peered down the road, observing as a horse and rider rushed toward him at full gallop.
The man was traveling dangerously fast, bent low over the saddle, the animal’s hooves flying. Phillip might have ignored the demented oaf, but as he neared, Phillip realized it was Viscount Redvers.
He moved into the middle of the lane, feet braced, daring the man to canter on by.
Phillip had no idea what he was doing. An ordinary fellow such as himself never interfered with the rich and notorious. Nor was he entitled to an opinion with regard to their antics, but he was enraged over Redvers’s conduct with Miss Barnes and stupidly determined to let him know.
Redvers saw Phillip and tugged on the reins, making the horse snort and rear up.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Redvers demanded. “Or are you trying to kill me?”
“I’d have a word with you, Your Royal Assness, before you race on by.”
“Where do you come by the gall to speak to me at all, let alone in a rude manner?”
“Haul yourself down off that saddle, and I’ll show you where I come by the gall.”
“I’m in a hurry. I don’t have time to fuss with you.”
“You will fuss with me, by God.” Phillip grabbed the bridle, feeling as if an insane person had assumed control of his body. “That young lady you seduced doesn’t have anyone to take her side, so I damned sure will!”
At the mention of Miss Barnes, Redvers blanched, not able to pretend that he didn’t know to whom Phillip referred. With the agility of a circus performer, he leapt to the ground.
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Redvers seethed. “And might I suggest that you be very clear and very concise.”
“If Miss Barnes was my sister, you’d be standing at the altar about now, with my musket pressed between your shoulder blades to encourage a quick recitation of the vows.”
Redvers stepped in so that they were toe to toe. He was taller, but Phillip was stockier. If they clashed, it would be an even match.
Would they brawl? Phillip hadn’t had a fistfight in ages, and if he had to pound on an obnoxious cur, Redvers was an excellent candidate.
Redvers studied Phillip, his wagon parked on the side of the road.
“You’re that peddler, aren’t you? The one who sold her those tonics?”
“Yes I am, and over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten to know her. You have some nerve, treating her so badly.”
“You seem to be laboring under the delusion that my relationship with her is your business, but I can’t figure out why.”
“She was lonely, and you took advantage of her! You may be a high and mighty lord, but somebody should knock some sense into you.”
“And that would be you?”
“It would be my pleasure. If you’d seen her yesterday, clutching that tattered little bag! Why, if I could—”
“You saw Mary yesterday?”
“Yes, and your friends gave her a ride, but—”
Redvers grew very still. “What did you say?”
“She stopped by here, on her way to the village to catch the public coach to London, but your friends came by in a carriage. A harlot—called herself Mrs. Bainbridge—invited her to ride with them instead.”
Redvers gasped. “Mary accepted? She went off with Mrs. Bainbridge?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit.”
“If they’ve harmed her, it will be on your conscience.”
Redvers looked stricken, as if he might actually have cared for Miss Barnes. He spun and jumped on his horse.
“Where are you going?” Phillip inquired.
“To London, to search for her. Did she mention where she planned to stay?”
“No, but your Mrs. Bainbridge will know.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Redvers glanced over at the wagon, then at Phillip. “Don’t sell that Daily Remedy of yours around here again. We’re both aware that it’s laced with alcohol, and I can’t imagine how many women you’ve hurt by dispensing it.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about how people should act.”
“You’re a charlatan.”
“And you’re a cad and a swine.”
“It sounds as if we understand each other.” Redvers urged the animal into a trot as he peered back and hollered, “Thank you for worrying about Mary.”
“Find her, you worthless knave.”
“I will.”
Then, he was gone.
Phillip dawdled, pondering Miss Barnes, then pondering Redvers’s warning about his medicinal trade. He dashed over to their campsite, in the nearby trees.
As he rushed up, Clarinda asked, “What’s happening? Were you arguing with someone?”
“Lord Redvers just rode by. I gave him a piece of my mind about Miss Barnes.”
“You had cross words with a viscount? Are you mad?”
“Yes. But I doubt he’ll have me hanged.”
“How did you avoid it?”
“Apparently, he was partial to Miss Barnes, and he’s off to London to locate her.”
“I’m glad to hear it. She was due for some luck.”
He started packing their belongings.
“We’re leaving? Isn’t it rather sudden?”
“I have no idea how this charade will conclude,” he advised, “but I don’t believe we should stick around for the finale.”
“You think we’ll be dragged into it?”
“These sorts of affairs never end well.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Plus, Redvers ordered me to stop selling my Daily Remedy. If he comes back this way and sees me, he’ll make trouble. I can’t have him setting the magistrate on us.”
“Where are we headed? To London? It’s easy to get lost there.”
“London? Sure. Why not?”
He threw some dishes into a trunk, then went to harness the horse.
Chapter 22
“THERE’S someone here to see you, Mr. Adair.”
Paxton smiled at his valet and sighed.
“Who is it this time?”
“Another young lady, sir.”
“My favorite sort of guest.”
“We seem to be having a flood of them,” his valet said.
“Yes, we do, but a man can’t ever have too many women about, can he? I don’t believe it’s possible.”
In light of events in the country, it was odd and unsettling to be back in London, and briefly, he wondered how Miss Barnes was faring at the Carlyle Hotel. With her having just arrived in the sprawling city, she was probably more disoriented than Paxton.
Fleetingly, he imagined calling on her, asking after her condition. But he knew it would simply be a ruse to learn if there’d been any news from Barnes Manor, or if—by chance—she might be writing a letter home and could attach a note from him.
He wouldn’t inquire! There was no one there with whom he cared to correspond, and if he never heard the name Barnes Manor again, it would be too soon.
After returning to Town, Paxton had headed straight to his father and accepted the offer of a plantation in Jamaica.
His father had been delighted, and he’d mentioned that there was a ship sailing in four days. If Paxton would like to be on it, passage could be arranged.
Why not?
Paxton had thought.
Paxton had thought.
There was nothing for him in London, so he’d agreed to leave right away, worried that if he didn’t, his interest in the venture might wane.
Preparations had begun at once.
He and his valet were packing, but the poor fellow had to keep pausing to answer the door.
Since word had circulated that he was going, he’d been besieged with female visitors eager to wish him farewell, but there had only been one person he’d truly wanted to see—Cassandra Stewart—and she’d made her position very clear.
So to hell with her!
She could languish in the country with her horrid mother and sister. She could wither away and die of old age, living a hollow life, devoid of meaning.
“Who is here?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t a certain debutante who’d been inappropriately chasing after him.
“I’m told to say it’s Cassie.”
“Cassie?”
He searched his memory, trying to recall an acquaintance named Cassie, but he couldn’t recollect a single one.
“If the name doesn’t ring a bell—”
“It doesn’t.”
“—I’m to inform you that it’s Mrs. Cassandra Stewart.” His breath caught. “Cassandra?”
Before the man could reply, Paxton was racing down the stairs to the front parlor.
His apartment was small, with two rooms up and two down, so it was a fast trip, and with each step, his mind whirled chaotically.
What could she want? Why had she come?
Like a besotted buffoon, he stumbled in, sliding across the floor and nearly falling in his haste.
He struggled for calm, tugged on his vest, and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.
She was over in the corner, riffling in the sideboard that had already been emptied, and she glared at him.
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