A Lady at Last (21 page)

But Eleanor smiled. “Call me Eleanor, everyone does! How do you know my rakehell brother? How is it you are his
guest?
Have you been riding in the rain? And how old are you?”

“Eleanor!” Cliff objected, but he laughed.

“He has kindly brought me to London to meet my mother,” Amanda said breathlessly. “And I am not much of a horsewoman. We just arrived—I am from the islands.” She waited for his sister to laugh, but she didn't; she continued to smile, as if they were already friends.

“How interesting. My brother is many things—handsome, wealthy, brave, selfish, a boor—but he is not kind.”

Amanda stiffened. “He is very kind! He brought me here from the West Indies when I had no way to pay for my passage.”

Eleanor gave Cliff a disbelieving look.

Cliff scowled at her. “Amanda's father recently died. She had no one else to turn to.”

“Oh, so you have rescued a damsel in distress,” Eleanor said slowly. She seemed perplexed.

“Actually, that is exactly what I have done. And by the by, I have brought Ariella and Alexi here.”

Eleanor cried out in delight. “And I have brought Michael and Rogan—they are in the nursery with Lizzie's three hellions.”

“Then the cousins may have already met,” Cliff said, appearing pleased.

Amanda took the moment to sit down hard on the closest chair. Was his sister actually going to accept her presence in their home as if it was a usual occurrence? Didn't she care that Amanda was scandalously attired? Did she know that her father had been a pirate, his fate death by hanging?

Cliff turned toward her. “I have to go out. Before I do so, is there anything you need?”

Amanda hated the idea of his leaving her alone in the house with his family. “I am fine,” she lied, feeling ill all over again. Where was he going? It was almost suppertime. She couldn't help wondering if he was visiting one of his lovers, but that thought was too painful to contemplate.

He hesitated and sat down beside her. “I won't be gone for long. Do you want to meet the countess and Lizzie before I go?”

“I think I am going to rest,” Amanda said warily. “I can meet them tomorrow.”

Cliff stared closely, his gaze searching. Amanda gazed back, wishing they were on the deck of his ship. “We'll do some sightseeing tomorrow,” he finally said.

Instantly she smiled. “That would be wonderful.”

Cliff smiled back and stood. He gestured at his sister, who pretended not to understand. “Amanda is tired from the voyage.”

“But I was going to ask for some tea and sandwiches, so we might become better acquainted.” Eleanor grinned, appearing a bit mischievous.

Amanda was alarmed.

Cliff clasped her shoulder. “You will have plenty of time to become acquainted with Amanda,” he said.

She snickered. “You do mean Miss Carre, don't you, Cliff?”

He pushed her out the door. “You remain as impertinent as always,” he said.

“And I wonder if you remain as impossibly roguish as always?” She returned sweetly. “Naughty Cliff, to be alone in a lady's room at this hour!”

Cliff turned to Amanda. “Ignore her. I will check on you later.”

Amanda had an idea of what his sister had been implying, but she hoped she was wrong. Or did his sister think they were having a lover's affair, right under the countess's roof?

But Eleanor waved at her and disappeared, as if she did not mind the notion at all.

“She is a very bold woman,” Cliff said, shaking his head. “And outspoken—perhaps more so than you. She also wears breeches, by the way. I will see you later.”

Amanda gaped as he closed her door.

 

I
T TOOK HIM A SCANT
ten minutes to reach Belford House, and by the time he arrived, it had begun to rain. Four handsome coaches lined the street, so he knew he was interrupting a supper party, but as it was only seven, the guests had probably just arrived. It was not fashionable to call as he was doing, but he did not care, and no one in society expected him to behave in a proper manner, anyway. He rang the knocker. Everyone except for Belford would assume he was sniffing after his wife. Belford seemed oblivious to his wife's escapades.

A butler ushered him in, ogling his gold earring and the spurs he wore in spite of his tan trousers. He had also donned a beautiful shirt, tie and navy-blue jacket—his concession to fashion. Cliff smiled. “Is Belford at home?”

“His lordship is in Scotland,” the servant returned, more interested now in the sheathed dagger at his hip than at the transparent question.

“Then I am in luck,” Cliff returned, handing the man his business card. “Please inform Lady Belford that I have an urgent matter to discuss with her.” He said.

The man vanished.

Cliff paced the round foyer beneath a crystal chandelier, overhearing male conversation sprinkled with feminine laughter. The entry was sparsely furnished. A beautiful but very worn Oriental rug was underfoot and two ruby-red chairs were at the hall's end, the seats faded. A lampshade that should have been ivory was the color of parchment. Looking around, he realized that the Belfords were in an economic pinch.

As he had guessed, Lady Belford did not mind the interruption. She appeared within minutes of her butler's exit with his card.

He stared as she came into the entry. Now, he could not mistake the resemblance between mother and daughter. They could have been sisters, although Dulcea was a far less striking version of Amanda, and most strangers would think them related.

Considering the scheme at hand, he wasn't all that pleased.

Dulcea was obviously happy to see him. She wore a sleeveless burgundy gown with a faint gold floral pattern, a ruby pendant at her throat and she was smiling as she approached. “My lord de Warenne!” she cried. “This is the most welcome surprise. But I should have so wished for advance notice—I would have set an extra place at the table.” Her hand fluttered up and down his sleeve.

Her desire to bed him hadn't changed, he thought, repulsed, but he smiled slightly and bowed. “Thank you for receiving me, Lady Belford. I am aware the hour is an inopportune one.”

“It is never an inopportune hour for you, my lord,” she said, her lashes lowering as she curtsied.

She was socially far superior to him, and he found her use of a courtesy title obsequious. “Then I am very fortunate.”

“Have you just arrived in town? Would you care to join us for supper? We have only just sat down.” She smiled, touching his arm.

“I am afraid I cannot stay long,” he said. “And I do not wish to keep you from your guests. But there is an extremely urgent matter that we must discuss. I beg you for a private word.”

She smiled, giving him a sidelong look, and took his arm. Cliff fought not to pull away and she led him into a small salon with green fabric walls, gilded furniture and green-and-gold upholstery. The upholstery was very worn and faded, increasing his belief that the Belfords were in some financial straits. She released him to close the door. Then she leaned on it, smiling at him. “Then you must come for supper another time, before Belford returns,” she murmured.

Cliff stepped back, hesitating. There was no easy way to break such news. “Why don't you sit down, Lady Belford. I have news I wish to impart.”

She smiled, taking the chair he offered her. “Good news, I hope?” Her brown lashes fluttered again.

“I believe so,” he said, but even as he spoke, he had very little doubt that she would not be pleased. “I have brought your daughter to London, madam.”

She smiled still, clearly not comprehending him. “What?”

“Your maiden name is Straithferne, is it not?”

Her smile faded and she paled. “What is this?”

“Your daughter, Amanda Carre, is currently my guest here in London, at Harmon House,” he said, watching her closely for her reaction.

Her eyes bulged with shock. She just sat there, staring at him, stunned.

In a way, he did feel sorry for her. He glanced around, found the sideboard with the decanters and poured her a sherry. He handed it to her.

She shook her head, setting the glass down. “I beg your pardon. My daughter is upstairs, with my son, and her name is Margaret. She is thirteen years old.”

He felt all sympathy vanish. A cold, hard feeling filled him, similar to that he so often experienced when facing an adversary he did not care for. This woman, however, he had a use for. This woman owed her daughter a proper life. “Lady Belford, let us cease all pretense. It will take a runner no more than a day or two to determine if your maiden name is Straithferne, but I will not even bother, as your daughter resembles you very closely. I am sure you do not know, but Rodney Carre was hanged in June. I have brought Amanda to London so she might be reunited with you, her only living family.”

Lady Belford cried out, sagging against the chair. And when she looked up at him, he saw tears filling her green eyes, which were nowhere as exotic or vivid as her daughter's. “You are right,” she gasped. “My maiden name is Straithferne.” She stood, trembling.

Cliff leaped forward, helping her to stand upright. She leaned against him, shaking, instantly clinging to his shoulders. The moment she did so, he knew she was hoping to soften him with her feminine ways. “You must sit down,” he said grimly, attempting to disengage.

But she clung, avoiding his eyes so he could not look into her face too closely. “Oh, God. I am in shock…I cannot believe it…She is here, in London?”

“Very much so. I comprehend your shock. But madam, your long-lost daughter has returned and she is eager to be reunited with you.” He set her firmly apart.

Finally she looked up at him. “You must not speak so openly or I will be ruined.”

Their gazes met. Hers remained moist, but he saw a hard light there now. “And your daughter?” he asked, despising her intensely.

She produced a kerchief from her bodice and used it on her eyes. “You must
not
speak in such a manner,” she said. “Why did you bring her here?”

“So she might reside with you, her only living family!” he exclaimed. “It was that or send her to the Sisters of St. Anne's on the island!”

She stared. “What is she like?” she finally, carefully, asked.

He didn't hesitate. “She is beyond beautiful, with green eyes very much like yours. Her hair is the color of the rising moon and her figure is perfection. She is very clever—she is learning to read and doing well, I might add,” he said. Dulcea's eyes widened even further. “And she is brave. I have never met such courage, not even in a man. She risked her life aboard my ship to save a young lad, and she can wield a saber almost as well as I can.”

Dulcea cried out.

“What did you expect,” he asked coldly, furiously. “You have allowed your daughter to be raised by a pirate, madam, depriving her of a life of gentility, of this!” His arm swept the room.

Dulcea covered her face with her hands, weeping. “How can you blame me?”

Cliff recognized that Dulcea wished to manipulate him, but he was not exactly sure what else she intended now. “Your tears do not move me, madam. However, your daughter's plight moves me very much. What will you do now? She is at Harmon House, expecting a warm reunion.”

Her eyes lifted to his and turned to ice. “Surely, surely, you do not expect me to take such a child in!”

“Your daughter needs a home,” he said harshly, his worst fears coming true. “She needs a mother. She needs you. I thought it prudent to meet with you first and advise you that she is here, and I can see that I am right. The ton is filled with bastards, Lady Belford. We both know many couples who are raising their illegitimate offspring alongside their heirs. I have brought my own two children here and I shall take them into society with pleasure, not fear.”

She shook her head in negation, seizing his arms. “You are not a married woman with two legitimate children! Belford will never understand and he will never forgive me, even if my faux pas occurred before we ever met!”

“
Au contraire
. You lead him about by the nose—and else-where—and I feel certain you can convince him of anything you wish.”

“Why are you doing this? Why did you determine to bring her here?”

“Why am I behaving like a gentleman?” he asked sarcastically. “Your daughter is an orphan and she is no child. She is seventeen, a woman ready for marriage! Surely you wish to have a hand in her future.”

“You are no gentleman!” she said, her pale face so taut it could have been cast from plaster. “Can you not see how distressing this is for me?”

“Your distress it is
nothing
compared to what your daughter has suffered in her short life.” He lost all patience now.

She had become still, staring. Finally she said, “You are acting as if you despise me.” Her eyes were hard and riveted to his. “But you, of all men, should understand how something like this could happen. You, my lord de Warenne, understand passion as well as anyone.”