Debra Mullins (10 page)

“Be calm,” Rome murmured. “No need to panic.”

She shot him an incredulous glance, then smiled as Haverford looked up and saw them.

“There you are,” the earl said. “I had just thought to look for you.”

“My apologies. I was detained by an acquaintance.” Anna removed her hand from Rome’s arm and took her place beside her suitor.

“Well, you have arrived in the nick of time. The next act is set to begin.” Clearing his throat, he turned to the man and woman waiting politely for introductions. “Mr. Fellhopper, Miss Fellhopper, this is Miss Rosewood,” Marc said. “And this is my cousin, Mr. Devereaux.”

“Charmed as always, Miss Rosewood,” Fellhopper said. “Mr. Devereaux, a pleasure.”

“You know each other?” the earl asked, glancing from Anna to the Fellhoppers.

“For many years,” Charlotte said. “Anna and I made our debut together.” The sweet-faced blonde cast a shy glance at Rome. “But I have not had the pleasure of Mr. Devereaux’s company until now.”

“Fellhopper. Miss Fellhopper. It is indeed an honor to meet you both.” Rome acknowledged them with a quick bow. “If you will excuse me, however, my sister awaits my return.”

“Of course,” Haverford said.

“Another time,” Fellhopper replied.

“Good evening, Mr. Devereaux,” came Charlotte’s soft reply.

He gave a polite nod and walked away. Anna’s gaze lingered on his back until Haverford’s voice returned her to the conversation.

“My cousin is just returned from the war,” he was saying.

“How brave he must be,” Charlotte breathed, also looking after Rome.

Haverford cleared his throat again, his face curiously flushed. “Indeed. I would have bought a
commission myself had my responsibilities to my estates not taken precedence.”

Charlotte turned her big blue eyes on the earl. “We all do our part, my lord.”

His ears reddened. “Indeed, as you do your part to assist your brother.”

“Charlotte is a wonderful hostess,” Fellhopper said, with a fond smile.

“She is indeed,” Haverford agreed. He looked at Anna. “Fellhopper and I have business dealings together, and I have spent many a comfortable evening at his home in Leicestershire.”

“How lovely,” Anna said. She found herself glancing over to where she’d last seen Rome, then, horrified, jerked her gaze back to her companions. Luckily, Lord Haverford was facing the Fellhoppers and had not noticed her blunder.

The signal sounded for the next act, and the Fellhoppers took their leave.

“Fine people,” Haverford said, leading her back to his box.

“Indeed,” Anna agreed, determined to finish the evening without further adventure.

They took their seats just as the curtain rose.

Anna’s mother leaned close to her daughter. “You were gone quite a while, dear,” she murmured.

Anna shrugged and smiled in apology, hoping that would be the end of it.

“And your hair is mussed,” Henrietta continued, arching a brow.

Anna raised her hand to discover a lock of hair had indeed slipped from its pins and dangled from the back of her upswept curls. Anxiety rushed through her, and she searched her mother’s expression for some hint of disapproval. “How curious.”

“Not really.” Mrs. Rosewood smiled fondly, her eyes darting to Lord Haverford, who sat enraptured in the performance. “I notice the earl is looking a bit flushed.”

“Oh?” Baffled now, Anna cast a sidelong look at Haverford. He did appear a bit flustered, come to think of it.

Henrietta patted her daughter’s arm. “As long as you are discreet, dear, I have no objection to anything you must do to secure his lordship’s affections.”

Anna gaped. Her mother thought she and Haverford had…“Mama!” she hissed, cheeks burning.

Henrietta merely gave her a nod of approval, then relaxed back in her seat to enjoy the rest of the play.

Despite her best intentions, Anna couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Rome. His knowing look did nothing to help the situation.

She turned back to face the stage and suffered through the rest of the performance, wishing she’d never walked down that dark path at Vauxhall Gardens.

O
n Friday at three o’clock, Rome arrived at the office of Edgar Vaughn. His heart pounded as if he were a schoolboy who had just received high compliments from his instructor. If he presented himself well at this meeting, his dreams of a career in diplomacy could become reality.

Upon stating his name and his business, he was directed to Rupert Pennyworthy, Vaughn’s secretary.

“Mr. Devereaux,” Pennyworthy said, with a pained smile as he rose from his desk. “I know you have an appointment today with Mr. Vaughn, but he has been unexpectedly called out of town.”

At the news, Rome’s heart plummeted to his stomach. Had Vaughn changed his mind about hiring the son of Oliver Devereaux?

He should have expected this.

He forced a polite smile to his lips. “How unfortunate. I would, of course, like to schedule for another day.”

“You’ll need to speak to Mr. Vaughn about that.”

“Of course.” It had been problematic enough obtaining the first appointment, as Edgar Vaughn was notoriously difficult to contact. Securing a second appointment might prove challenging, if not impossible.

He thought briefly of asking for Marc’s assistance, then immediately rejected the idea. He would obtain this position on his own merits, without trading upon his connection to the earl.

The slender young man came around the desk. “Mr. Vaughn can only see you for a few minutes, as he must leave London shortly. This way, Mr. Devereaux.”

“Vaughn is here?” he blurted, unable to hide his surprise.

“I’m sorry, perhaps I gave you the wrong impression.” Again that pained smile. “Mr. Vaughn will see you, but you must keep the visit very brief.”

A huge smile spread across Rome’s face. “I appreciate his making time for me.”

Pennyworthy led the way to Vaughn’s office, announced Rome, then took himself off as discreetly as a whiff of smoke.

“Devereaux! Come in. My apologies, but I only have a few minutes.” Edgar Vaughn shuffled
through papers on his massive desk, shoving some into a satchel and others into his desk drawer.

“Your secretary told me.” Rome closed the door, glancing around at the elegant splendor of the décor. “Quite a handsome office, sir.”

Vaughn gave a short bark of laughter. “Impresses foreign dignitaries. I’d be happy enough in something less opulent.”

Rome grinned. “I understand.”

“You would, I’d imagine. Do sit down, Devereaux.” As Rome took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs in front of the desk, Vaughn gave him a short, piercing look that seemed to sum up Rome’s character in mere moments. “Military man, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I recently returned home from the Peninsula.”

“Not easily shaken, then. Good quality to have in this position.” Vaughn shuffled more papers, sorting them into two piles. “I’ve read the reports, of course. Your commanding officers speak very highly of you.”

“It was an honor to serve under them.”

Vaughn gave a bark of laughter. “Very diplomatic answer, Devereaux.”

“No, just the truth.”

“Even better.” Vaughn yanked open another drawer and grabbed a small velvet bag, which he tossed on the desk. The strings had not been pulled closed, and the contents spilled across the surface with a clatter. “Botheration!” Vaughn ex
claimed as gold coins scattered over the solid mahogany.

“Allow me to assist,” Rome said, bending down to scoop up the few coins that had fallen on the carpet.

“Not necessary,” Vaughn insisted as he gathered coins back into the bag.

“Too late.” Rome straightened, but his smile faded as he came within a nose length of a gold ring sitting on the edge of the desk.

A rose crossed with a sword within a circle, and the rose was a bloodred ruby.

The back of his neck prickled. What was Vaughn doing with a Triad ring?

“Blast it all,” Vaughn muttered, scooping the ring and remaining coins out of Rome’s view and into the bag. “Why is it these things always happen when a man is in a hurry?”

“I wish I knew,” Rome replied. He stood and handed the coins over to Vaughn. As the older man deposited them into his pouch and pulled the strings tightly, Rome glanced around the office again.

Swords, everywhere. Why hadn’t he noticed before?

Jeweled broadswords, crossed rapiers, elegant fencing foils. All graced the walls like artwork in the Louvre.

He turned his attention back to the other man, the muscles in his chest and stomach tense with battle readiness. “You fancy swords, Mr. Vaughn?”

“A hobby of mine. I collect them.” He shoved the purse of gold in with his papers and closed the satchel. “Not to be rude, Devereaux, but I do have an urgent matter to attend to outside London and no time to spare. I would like to reschedule our appointment for Tuesday at ten o’clock. Is that convenient?”

“Quite convenient.”

“Excellent. Until Tuesday then.” Vaughn thrust out his hand.

Managing to hide his aversion, Rome shook it. “I look forward to it.”

“Excellent. Pennyworthy will see you out.”

Anna sat at the writing desk in her room, a stack of unposted letters to various friends at her elbow. She was right in the middle of a lengthy missive to her cousin Melanie when the door to her bedroom swung open. Her mother stood there, her well-endowed chest heaving, her lips thin with anger.

“I have just heard the most amazing account,” she announced, “of a certain young lady sneaking out of this house at night and taking a hack to the docks.”

The pen dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. “What?”

“You heard me.” Henrietta closed the door firmly behind her. “The housekeeper noticed that Lizzie was nowhere to be found on Wednesday night. She had to threaten to sack her, but finally the girl confessed the whole story.”

“Mrs. Nivens is most persistent,” Anna mumbled.

“How could you?” Henrietta demanded. “How could you have the audacity to sneak out of this house and venture to that part of London? Do you have any idea how much you risked by doing such a foolish thing?”

“I can explain.”

“I don’t need your explanation.” Henrietta loomed over Anna and pointed a finger at her. “I know what you were doing.”

“But don’t you want to hear—”

“No!” Henrietta made a slicing motion with her hand. “From now on, I forbid you to do leave the house without my express permission.”

“But, Mama—”

“Hush.” Her mother held up a hand, and Anna fell silent. “I know this has to do with Anthony. Good God, Anna, but I thought you had dispensed with that nonsense when we came to London. I’m most disappointed to discover this is not the case.”

“He was murdered,” Anna broke in. “And—”

“By footpads,” Henrietta interrupted. “Let it lie, Anna. There is nothing you can do for your brother except marry well and live a life of happiness.”

“I can’t be happy unless I find out the truth.”

“Bah! Haven’t you heard me? This ends
now
, my girl.”

Anna glanced down at her half-written letter. The words swam before her stinging eyes, and she
blinked back tears. “Yes, Mama,” she whispered.

Henrietta patted her on the shoulder. “You will see I am right in this, Anna. When you are wed to the earl and live the rest of your life in comfort and security, you will thank me.” She moved to the wardrobe. “Now, let’s see what you have to wear to the Lorrington soirée this evening.”

Anna said nothing as her mother began to sort through her dresses, but her mind raced. How could she possibly continue her investigation with Mama watching her like a hawk?

“Perhaps the blue silk, Anna?”

“The Melton ball.” She fingered the edge of her stationery. Words danced along her peripheral vision.
Mrs. Emberly
…
the earl’s cousin
…
may become good friends
…

“Oh, that’s right. You can’t wear that again because the Lorringtons are cousins to the Meltons. Perhaps the ivory satin?”

“I don’t believe I’ve worn that yet.” Anna stared at Lavinia’s name on the page, an idea formulating in her mind.

“And flowers in your hair,” Henrietta continued. “You’ll look like a fresh young bride, and perhaps his lordship will be inspired to offer.”

Anna turned to look at her mother, who held up the ivory satin, studying it with a critical eye. “Mama, I was supposed to call on Mrs. Emberly today.”

Henrietta cast her a glance askance as she hung the evening dress back in the wardrobe. “I just
told you that you cannot leave this house without my permission.”

“Then may I have your permission to go?”

“I don’t know, Anna.” Tapping her foot, her mother studied the other dresses in the wardrobe. “Has that peach satin been delivered from Madame Dauphine’s yet?”

“I believe it’s supposed to arrive today,” Anna replied, getting to her feet. “Mama, I promised Mrs. Emberly I would call. Since she is Lord Haverford’s cousin, I should hate to slight her.”

“Oh.” The mention of the earl broke Henrietta away from her contemplation of fashion. “That’s right, we would not want to offend his lordship’s family. Unfortunately, I am to call on Admiral Whiting’s wife today, which is very important to your father. And you cannot go alone to Mrs. Emberly’s.”

“Lizzie—”

“That girl!” Henrietta gave an exasperated huff. “She is lucky I did not turn her out without a reference for going along with that half-witted plan of yours! No, you will not take Lizzie anywhere, Anna.”

“Then who can accompany me, Mama? If you are otherwise engaged, and Lizzie is not allowed to go…”

“Bliss shall go!” Satisfied with her solution, her mother turned back to the wardrobe.

“Bliss?” Anna echoed weakly. She sank back into her chair. Her mother’s maid never smiled,
rarely spoke, and tolerated no nonsense of any sort. She was a completely humorless creature who was totally devoted to Henrietta.

“It is the perfect solution. Bliss will be certain that you indeed arrive at Mrs. Emberly’s home and do not, shall we say, ‘divert’ down any unscheduled paths.” Henrietta gave her a hard look. “It’s the best offer you will get from me, my girl.”

Anna sighed. “Very well.”

“What time are you expected at Mrs. Emberly’s?”

“About four o’clock. She has asked me to tea.”

“How lovely. Now what will you wear to that, I wonder?”

As Henrietta flipped through the dresses again, Anna set aside the letter to her cousin and pulled forth a fresh sheet of paper. Since she had just manufactured the appointment for tea out of thin air, she needed to let Lavinia know that she was coming and also to make certain that Rome joined them.

This turn of events had forced her hand. She only hoped that Rome still wanted to be her partner.

Having received a note from his sister to present himself before four o’clock, Rome arrived on Lavinia’s doorstep in a state of annoyed disbelief. Fate had dealt him a rotten hand in the past twenty-four hours, and he didn’t know if he should bet or fold.

First, his suspicions about Rose’s true identity
had been verified, confirming that he had indeed made improper advances to his cousin’s woman. That he hadn’t known her real name at the time was irrelevant; if the truth came out, his relationship with Marc, as well as everything he had worked for, would be irrevocably damaged.

His best opportunity to overcome the shadow of his father’s scandal had appeared to be a position in Edgar Vaughn’s office. But now he didn’t know what to think about Vaughn. What was he doing with a ring that belonged to the Black Rose Society? Was he a member? Peter had said that only members of the society wore such rings, and that the ones worn by the elite members of the Triad had rubies where the rose should be.

Just like the one in Vaughn’s office.

Before Vaughn had entered the diplomatic arena, he had been a military man, well-known for acting honorably even in the most horrific of circumstances. As he had carried on his duties as a diplomat, he had earned a reputation for being a stickler for propriety and decorum.

Which had made his willingness to consider the son of Oliver Devereaux for a position in his office even more of a miracle.

Coldness dragged at his shoulders and knotted his guts. He respected Vaughn, had even looked upon him as a role model. Now he wondered if he’d been mistaken in his admiration.

Bagsley admitted him and showed him to the parlor.

“Rome, there you are.” Lavinia greeted him from the sofa, her smile inviting but not quite as vivacious as usual.

“Hallo, Vin. Are you all right? You look a bit too pale, if I may take a brother’s prerogative and say so.”

She shook her head. “Brother or not, you always say what you think, Rome. And yes, I imagine I resemble day-old porridge, if how I feel is any comparison.”

Rome came to sit beside her and covered her cold hand with his. “I’m surprised you summoned me here if you are not feeling quite the thing.”

“It came on rather suddenly. Normally I nibble on a bit of bread to settle my stomach in the mornings, but even that makes me ill to think of it.”

“Shall I summon the physician?”

“No, silly. It’s just the child. Mama told me to expect such things.”

“Oh. Well, then if that is what our mother said…” Uncomfortable with the talk of such feminine mysteries, Rome shifted and patted her hand. “You should follow her advice.”

Vin gave a little laugh. “Very well, I shall take pity on you and change the subject. How was your interview with Mr. Vaughn?”

“Very short.” Rome rose, still disturbed by the ring in Vaughn’s possession. “He had to leave town unexpectedly.”

“Oh, dear. Does this mean you did not secure the position?”

“No, we rescheduled the appointment.” Rome prowled the room.

“Then what’s wrong?”

He stopped near the mantel and tried to smile at her. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just disappointed that the interview did not go as expected.”

“Are you certain there’s nothing else?”

He came to his sister and kissed her cheek. “I have no intention of burdening you with my troubles, Vin. ’Tis nothing dire, I promise you.”

“You always do this,” she scolded. “You’re clearly worried about something, and yet you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”