Ladies of Deception 03 - Betraying the Highwayman (18 page)

Sister Genevieve sighed. “I've already thought things through, and you have agreed to do whatever I asked. The money will be much more valuable to me than the jewels, once I start my new life. Please do as I ask.”

Devon hesitated before sliding the necklace into his pocket. “Very well, if that's what you wish.”

“Yes,” came her simple response.

“Then we have ourselves a deal. The dinner party is in a week. I will get everything prepared and think everything through before we go. Rest assured that everything will work out just fine.”

Sister Genevieve's only response was a nod.

Sunday, June 26, 1814

Elenore sat on the edge of her bed wringing her hands in nervous anticipation. Devon had instructed her to inform Charlotte first thing that morning that she was ill so that his father wouldn't expect her to care for him for the day. Fortunately, it seemed as if she had been successful in convincing the girl that she was truly unwell and nobody had disturbed her any further.

Truthfully, she was anticipating an entire day free of Lord Brat, but she was much too nervous about the possibility of somebody recognizing her in London that she didn't know if she'd be able to enjoy herself.

A soft knocking sounded on the door and Elenore bolted up off the bed. She had been anticipating Devon's arrival for some time now. As soon as she opened the door, Devon slipped in hurriedly, shutting the door behind him. “Are you ready to leave for London?”

Elenore shrugged. “I suppose.”

Devon reached out and placed both hands on her shoulders, crouching down just enough so that he could look directly into her eyes. “Everything will be fine. My father will never know you are gone.”

“I know,” she muttered without any real conviction.

“Now listen closely because we need to be on our way. I will meet you at the cottage in a quarter of an hour. If you leave right after I do that should give you just enough time to get there. I'll go to the stables, get Calvin, and meet you there. We will have to share the horse but we've managed before, so I don't foresee a problem. As soon as we arrive in London, I'll let you off somewhere discreet not far from my townhouse with instructions on how to get there. You will then meet me at the rear of the house where we can discreetly enter. My sister has several gowns in her old room, so I will find something suitable for you to wear. We'll inform everyone that you are my cousin on my mother's side and have come to London for a brief visit. Is everything clear?”

Elenore swallowed hard, trying to process all of the information. “Yes, I understand.”

“Excellent. Give me a few minutes head start before you leave,” he instructed as he quickly slipped from the room.

Elenore watched the clock tick by several long minutes before she decided it was time for her to go. She carefully stuck her head out the door, ensuring that the coast was clear, before slipping quietly into the hall. Her heart beat frantically as she raced down the stairs and from the house, making sure to go through the rarely-used dining room and leave from a set of French doors on the back of the house that opened up to the veranda. As soon as she was free from the house, she felt her heart begin to slows it's erratic pace, grateful that nobody had seen her. She lifted the hem of her robe and raced across the wide expanse of lawn towards the abandoned cottage she had visited only once—the night she had returned Devon's Black Lightening clothes.

She must not have hurried as fast as she thought because she and Devon met at the cottage at nearly the same time. He slid from atop Calvin and assisted her into the saddle, before climbing behind her without uttering a single word. The feel of his lean body behind her brought back many memories from the first day she had encountered Black Lightening and been brought to Westbrooke Hall. She watched as his arms slid around her to grasp the reins and couldn't help the flutters that exploded in her stomach at his nearness. She wished there was something for her to grip on, as he took off in a gallop, being conscious of not clinging to his thighs as she had that first day.

The ride into London was long, and though she had hoped to sleep part of the way to pass the time, her awareness of Devon's nearness prevented her from doing so. She could feel his hard chest on her back, and instantly, images of that hard bare chest would pop into her mind, heating her cheeks. For the millionth time she wished that things could have been different between them, that she would have had the opportunity to meet him before she had decided to create an assured scandal by running away from the duke, before she had committed to herself that she would go to America and start a new life and find her aunt, some of the only family she had remaining. His nearness was tormenting her, and she wondered if it was affecting him as well.

It was with great relief that they finally arrived in London. He helped her down from Calvin, before giving her directions to his townhouse. She was relieved that he had chosen to deposit her at a location only about a block from his home. She watched him leave before heading in the direction he had given her. Elenore walked along the street, careful to keep her head downcast so her veil could fall forward and hide her face. She was tempted to look at the carriages and men on horseback that were passing her by, but she reminded herself of the risk it would entail if she saw somebody she knew.

Part of her wanted to laugh at her overcautious reaction—of all the people in London, what would be the odds of her running into one of the select few she knew? Regardless, it wasn't a risk she was willing to take, so she fought the temptation to take in her surroundings and left her head down.

When she reached Devon's townhouse, she didn't have to wait long before he waltzed out of the stable and came to stand next to her. He pushed the door open and scanned the room, before instructing her to follow him. Though they were constantly on guard that somebody might catch them, she had to admit that the fear of being caught only heightened the adventure.

She followed Devon quickly and silently all the way into the house and up to the second floor where the bedrooms were located. When he pushed a door open, she obediently followed him inside.

As soon as the door was shut, she spoke. “It's miraculous that we made it all the way up here without encountering a single servant. Truthfully, I wasn't sure it could be done.”

“That's because I've had to cut back on the household help significantly since my father's addiction increased. Funny now how that has proved to be a blessing.”

Elenore smiled at Devon, “There's always a silver lining.”

“I suppose. I'm going to go find you a dress. Then I'll speak with one of the maids about helping you dress your hair.”

As soon as Devon left, Elenore looked around the room. It was clearly meant for guests, with no personal belongings to be found. She curiously opened each drawer in a chest of drawers, only to find that they were all empty. Peering her head into the closet she found that it too was empty. She wondered when the last time the room had been occupied. When she had finished snooping around, she walked to the window and parted the drapes so she could look down on the busy street below. It might very well be the last time she ever had the opportunity to be in London, to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the city. She wondered if she would miss it once she got to America or if she'd much rather prefer the new country. She wondered how Boston would compare to London and wished she had somebody to ask.

Her musings were interrupted when Devon returned, a pale pink gown draped over his arm. He walked towards where she was standing and held the dress up for her to see. It was delicately feminine, made with pink satin, featuring a pale, sheer-lace overlay. She reached out and gently touched the fabric. The dresses that the duke had provided for her coming out had been beautiful, albeit simple as befitting a debutante, but this dress was exquisite.

Devon watched her examine the dress before he spoke. “Will this do?”

“Of course,” she replied breathlessly. “It's the most beautiful gown I've ever seen.”

His handsome face broke out into a pleased grin. “I'm glad you approve. Now as soon as I leave, you need to remove your nun's clothing and hide it in one of these drawers. I'll have a maid sent up shortly to assist you with your dress and hair.”

“Thank you,” she replied politely.

“No, thank you.” He responded sincerely, before once more slipping out of the room.

***

Devon waited eagerly in the parlor for Sister Genevieve to appear. He was incredibly anxious to see how she would look all dressed up and ready for the party. He had seen her the one time in the stables without her nun's habit and was desperately trying to brace himself for how he'd react to her appearance. He took a drink of his scotch then looked up expectantly as the maid walked into the room.

“Where is my cousin?” he inquired, confused when Sister Genevieve didn't enter the room as well.

“There seems to be a slight problem. Your cousin sent me to fetch you. She refuses to leave the room.”

Devon grew alarmed. Walking towards the door, he handed the maid his unfinished glass of scotch, as he passed. He hurried up to the room he had left her in, taking the stairs two at a time, his mind racing with possibilities of what could be wrong. He tapped lightly on the door, before entering the room uninvited, his eyes searching for Sister Genevieve. He inhaled sharply when he found her standing next to the window, the setting sun causing a brilliant glow to illuminate her person. She looked breathtaking. The pale pink dress was the perfect color for her, just as he thought it would be. He took a step towards her and watched as she flung her arms up to cover her chest.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“I cannot go out looking like this,” she exclaimed frantically. “Did you say this dress belonged to your sister?”

Devon stepped closer. “Yes, though I must admit, I much prefer it on you.”

His eyes roamed over her whole body, causing goose pimples to appear on her flesh, his eyes darkening with desire. He had tried to anticipate what she would look like, bracing himself for the temptation, but none of his imaginings had done her justice. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her lips had been painted with a tinted lip salve that made them all the more tantalizing to Devon. Her thick hair was piled in curls on the top of her head, with ringlets framing her face, causing her eyes to appear wider and more alluring than normal. His eyes dropped to the tiny baby hairs at the nape of her neck, and he couldn't resist the urge to reach up and feel their softness.

Sister Genevieve's eyes widened at his touch, but he noticed she didn't pull away. His eyes locked with hers, and he felt as if he'd get lost in their chocolate depths.

Finally she spoke, breaking the spell that had weaved itself around them. “I can't go out in this dress. I need you to find me something else to wear.”

Devon looked over her body once more before saying, “It looks beautiful. You look beautiful.”

Sister Genevieve huffed her impatience, before finally dropping her hands from her chest. The neckline of the dress was designed to hang partway off the shoulders, exposing her collar and a fair amount of her décolletage. Devon's mouth went dry, and he was rendered speechless.

“See,” she pleaded, “This gown is hardly decent for me to wear out in public.”

It took Devon a few moments to regain himself enough that he could speak. It was true that the gown was more revealing than her nun's habit was, an easy feat to accomplish, but it was hardly any more revealing than any other dress worn by the lady's of the ton. Besides, the gown hung on her frame as if it had been custom fitted especially for her, although it was slightly long. Sister Genevieve must not be as tall as his sister was. There was no way he was going to allow her to change from the gown.

“I have never seen a lovelier vision in all of my life. I understand that it seems rather revealing, and seeing as how you are accustomed to your robes, I can see how this would feel rather scandalous, but I assure you it is not. Besides, there is no time to change. We must be on our way.”

Sister Genevieve bit her lip nervously, not the least bit confident in wearing the gown. Finally Devon stepped behind her. “Here's something that will help cover you up.” He slid her diamond necklace around her neck, clasping it in place.

She reached up and fingered the jewels. “My necklace,” she whispered.

“Your necklace,” he repeated. “I wanted you to be able to wear it one last time before I sold it for you.”

Just as he had hoped, the necklace momentarily distracted her from her discomfort with the gown. He reached for her arm, hooking it around his elbow so he could lead her from the room.

Just before they began making their descent down the stairs, he paused and spoke lowly so nobody would be able to hear but her, “I forgot one minor detail. What should I call you?”

She was thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “Elenore, please call me Elenore.”

Elenore glanced out the window as the carriage came to a halt in front of a red brick townhouse. She was nervously wringing her hands together when Devon reached over and placed one hand on top of hers. “Everything will go well tonight, you'll see.”

The footman opened the door and assisted Elenore from the carriage. Devon soon joined her on the walk, taking her hand and placing it on his arm, before escorting her into the house. The butler greeted them somberly then began showing them to the parlor. They had just started down the hall when Lord Grayson appeared.

“I'm so glad you could make it Lord Bridgerton. Where is your father?”

“Regretfully, he wasn't able to attend. He sends his apologies.”

Lord Grayson nodded before indicating that they follow him. Coming to a stop in the doorway leading into the parlor, Lord Grayson paused and turned to eye Elenore shrewdly, before saying, “Please forgive my rudeness for failing to make introductions earlier, but who might this lovely lady be?”

Elenore waited for Devon to respond. “This is Miss Elenore,” he said, before leaning in close to Lord Grayson and whispering something she could not hear. Whatever he had said seemed to amuse Lord Grayson as a sly smile spread on his face.

He turned towards Elenore, mocking a bow and saying, “Pleased to meet you. I'm Lord Grayson.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Elenore said politely, before Lord Grayson turned and walked into the parlor.

Devon surprised her by grabbing her arm and shoving her into the next room. “What is this all about?” she asked, as soon as the door was closed.

“There's been a change in plans. I had to tell Lord Grayson that you are my mistress.” Elenore gasped but Devon ignored her and continued on. “I glanced in the parlor and noticed my uncle, Lord Wentworth is here. I'm not sure what he is doing here but I couldn't very well introduce you as my cousin, he would know that wasn't true.”

“And you couldn't think of anything more proper than a mistress?”

To his credit, Devon looked embarrassed. “I'm sorry but it's the first thing that I thought of. We are going to have to appear more...” he paused as he tried to think of an appropriate word to use, “familiar with one another, do you understand?”

Elenore sighed. “Devon, I'm not sure I can do this.”

Devon opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, the opened. Elenore gasped as Devon pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest and pressing his mouth to hers in a very familiar way. She didn't have time to respond before she heard somebody clearing their throat and turned to see Lord Grayson staring at them, his eyes alight with amusement.

“Pardon the interruption, but I was wondering where you two had gotten off to.”

Devon flashed him a knowing smile. “Miss Elenore is looking so fetching tonight I found I couldn't resist her.”

Elenore's face flamed scarlet at his words but Lord Grayson didn't seem bothered by his forwardness. “I can't say I blame you, but my friend is most anxious to meet you. Do come along.”

Devon nodded and let go of his hold on Elenore. They followed Lord Grayson into the parlor where introductions were to be made. Elenore willed herself to forget about the scorching kiss Devon had just branded on her lips, as her eyes quickly scanned the occupants of the room, hoping that her eyes would not rest on any familiar faces. She was introduced to Lord Grayson's wife, a stern looking woman who appeared as if she didn't smile very often, before being introduced to his friend Lord Timothy and his escort, Lady Arabelle. Last, she was introduced to Devon's uncle, Lord Wentworth and his wife. She dipped into a curtsey before standing and glancing once more at Lady Wentworth. The lady looked vaguely familiar but she couldn't quite place where she may have seen her.

As Devon escorted her to the settee, she kept stealing surreptitious glances at Lady Wentworth, trying to decide why she looked so familiar. It took her a moment but recognition finally dawned. She was the lady who she had come to speak with Lord Brattondale in private. It all began to make a little more sense to her. The reason the earl had addressed her so familiarly was because she was family. She quickly averted her eyes when Lady Wentworth turned in her direction, shifting nervously in her seat, hoping that the lady would not recognize her from their short encounter at Westbrooke Hall.

Elenore curled into herself as much as possible without looking slouchy, hoping to draw no undue attention to herself. The conversation in the room centered on idle gossip of the ton that in no way interested her, so she sat quietly ever aware that Lady Wentworth's scrutinizing eyes were upon her.

When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Lord Grayson instructed the party that they would be moving to the dining room for super to be served. Elenore tried to ignore the way Devon's hand found the small of her back, gently easing her towards the rest of the group, as they made their way to the dining room. The one time she dared look at him, he had had the audacity to wink at her, causing her skin to tingle and her cheeks to burn. He was playing his part all too well, and he seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

As soon as everyone was making their way to their seats, a footman began bringing in trays containing bowls of steaming soup. As per Devon's earlier instructions, Elenore knew it was time for her to make her leave. She glided over to Lady Katherine, Lord Grayson's wife and leaned in to whisper behind one gloved hand, “Could you kindly direct me to the retiring room?”

Lady Katherine nodded tightly, before calling over one of the maids. “Would you please show Miss Elenore where the retiring room is located?” The maid dipped her chin in agreement, and Lady Katherine turned her attention back to Elenore. “I will instruct the servants to hold the meal until you have returned.”

“Oh, that will not be necessary. I hate to make everyone wait on me, go ahead and begin without me, and I'll join you speedily.” Elenore was already plenty nervous about searching Lord Grayson's study, and she knew there was no way she could do a thorough job if everyone was anxiously waiting on her to begin their meal.

As soon as Lady Katherine reluctantly agreed to move forward with the meal, she followed the maid out of the room and down the hall to the retiring room. She thanked the maid and entered, waiting patiently until she was certain the maid had returned to the dining room. Slipping once more into the hall she glanced back and forth cautiously, making sure that no one saw her as she began opening doors in hopes of finding the study. She found the room she was looking for on her third attempt and silently slipped in, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Standing in the study, she glanced around. Lord Grayson's desk was littered with papers and other various knick knacks. He didn't appear to be concerned much with orderliness. She went and sat at the large leather chair behind the desk and began carefully rummaging through the stacks of paper, hoping she could find something that might help Devon locate his father's missing money.

When none of the papers on top of the desk turned up any helpful information, she began opening the drawers in the desk. She imagined pulling the top drawer open and miraculously finding a stack of money in the exact sum that Lord Grayson had won from Lord Brattondale, but when she opened the drawer, there was nothing of the sort. Disappointed, she began searching the remainder of the drawers, all to no avail. Sitting back in the chair she began nibbling on her bottom lip, as she glanced around the room looking for a safe or any other location Lord Grayson may have stashed away a large sum of money.

In the corner of the study was a large, black safe. Elenore rose and walked to it and lifted the handle, foolishly hoping it wouldn't be locked. She laughed to herself when the door didn't budge. Of course it would be locked. That was the purpose of a safe, to keep valuables secure. She took a moment to look in a few other locations, before deciding she wasn't going to have any luck finding the money. She had known that Devon's plan was far-fetched, but she knew he was acting out of desperation at this point, and she had hoped that his efforts would have yielded some fruit for all of his labors and found that she was disappointed when they did not.

Straightening her dress she prepared to return once more to the dining room, hoping that her prolonged absence wouldn't arouse suspicion. As she entered the dining room, all the men stood in greeting. Devon quickly moved to escort Elenore to her chair, as a waiting footman scurried to bring her food. Everyone was quiet as she sat, but as soon as she began eating, the conversation resumed and all eyes turned from her.

Elenore could feel Devon's eyes on her and turned to look into his face. His brown eyes were prying into her own, and she knew he was eager to know if she had found anything. She silently mouthed the word no and watched as his shoulders drooped in disappointment. Her heart dropped, for she knew that he had been so hopeful that tonight would lead him to some answers regarding his father's disappearing money. She longed to comfort him, reaching out beneath the table to place her hand on his thigh in a gesture of comfort. She realized she was being forward, but she didn't know what else to do to offer comfort.

His eyes turned to find hers and his penetrating gaze refused to look away. He slid his hand underneath the table and placed it on top of hers, squeezing her hand gently. She gazed into his eyes, noting how familiar they had become to her. Looking into their brown depths, they no longer reminded her solely of her father's coffee, they reminded her of all the adventures they had shared together, of stolen kisses they had shared, and all of the tender emotions he evoked within her. She tried to remind herself that it wouldn't be long before she sailed to America and would never look into those eyes again. Her heart actually grew painful at the thought, and for the first time since she had decided to go to America, she doubted her plan.

Something in her screamed that she would be foolish to leave him behind, that she would never find somebody who would appreciate her, faults and all, as fully as he did, that nobody would ever excite her the way that he did. Looking into his eyes she longed to tell him the truth, that she really wasn't who he believed her to be. Guilt tugged at her heart, threatening to overtake the pain that she was already feeling at the thought of leaving him. For the first time since meeting him, she contemplated telling him the truth about who she was.

“Lord Bridgerton, have you heard a word I've said?”

Devon's gaze snapped away from hers, as he looked up at Lord Wentworth. “Sorry uncle, it appears I was momentarily distracted.”

“Yes, I can see that. I was asking after your father.”

Devon straightened in his chair, dropping his hand from Elenore's. “He's currently at our country estate in Surrey. He hasn't been feeling well.”

“Yes, I've noticed he hasn't been in town much this season. I had heard some rumors about him recently and was hoping they weren't true.”

Devon stiffened at his comments but didn't respond. Lady Wentworth laughed nervously beside her husband. “Now dear, let's not concern ourselves with idle gossip. I'm sure whatever you have heard about my brother is false.” Her eyes briefly flickered to Elenore before glancing nervously away. Elenore fidgeted in her chair and dropped her gaze to her plate. Had the lady somehow recognized her?

Lord Wentworth addressed his wife without even looking at her, “Now Gertrude, don't be so quick to defend your brother when you know nothing about what is spoken of amongst gentleman.”

Lady Wentworth's face tightened in displeasure. “This is not a proper conversation to be having amongst ladies. I suggest you retire to the library for port and cigars, if you wish to continue.”

“Very well,” he said brusquely as he glanced at Lord Grayson, seeking his approval.

Lord Grayson rose, indicating that the gentleman follow, as he left for the library. Elenore watched the men leaving, dreading spending the remainder of the evening by herself without Devon.

She remained silent, as she followed the three other women to the drawing room and waited for tea to be served. The room was uncomfortably silent as each woman seemed disinclined to speak to one another. Elenore wondered if she had ever kept company with such unfriendly women in her life. They all kept eying her as if she was some sort of pariah, which if they thought she was Devon's mistress that would make complete sense.

Elenore didn't know how long they sat in awkward silence, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, when she was sure she couldn't take it anymore, Devon entered the room. “Miss Elenore, it's time for us to leave.”

Elenore stood swiftly, anxious to be rid of the tension filled room. She watched as Devon bowed in parting to all the ladies, before taking her arm and escorting her from the house. Elenore remained silent until they were tucked away in the privacy of his carriage before speaking. “Were you able to find anything out?”

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “I apologize for wasting your time by bringing you here. This whole evening was nothing but a complete waste. I was foolish to think it would be that simple to track down some of my father's money. Whatever Lord Grayson did with the funds, I'm sure they are long gone by now, and I doubt I'll ever retrieve them.”

Elenore didn't want to voice what she was thinking, but she agreed. “Did you learn anything about the investments Lord Timothy is involved in? You may never get back the lost money, but maybe, if you invested your father's remaining funds wisely, you could begin to grow the estate once more.”