Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] (3 page)

Lady Ross?
Prescott started. “The Earl of Wootton-Barrett’s daughter?”

Her cheeks heated as she tilted her head in acknowledgment. “The very same.”

Prescott felt his brows lift. “The man who’s such
a stickler about pedigree that he had his own nephew removed from the line of succession because he suspected that the baby might be the result of his sister-in-law’s having had an extramarital affair? An affair that many suspect never occurred?”

Her jaw worked. “The very same.”

Prescott laughed for the first time in weeks. “I had my doubts before, but now I know you must be mad.”

“But as I explained—”

Shaking his head, he interrupted, “You, my lady, made your own bed, now you must lie in it.”

“You’re going to simply feed me to the wolves?” she cried.

“With salt and pepper, my lady. Salt and pepper.”

“H
ow dare you, Prescott?” Shaking his head, Dr. Winner looked over at Edwina and she gave him a weak smile, trying to recover from Prescott Devane’s scathing rejection. “Calling her mad? Lady Ross is a levelheaded lady of fine sensibilities—”

“Who just asked for my hand in marriage.” Mr. Devane’s voice held an infuriatingly smooth cadence.

When he said it like that, Edwina felt as if she’d swallowed a sardine whole, and the fishy aftertaste lingered on her tongue.

The good doctor shot Mr. Devane a censorious glance. “Don’t jest about such things, Prescott.” Turning to her, Dr. Winner held open his hands. “Pray pardon Prescott, my lady. He’s had a rough time of it, of late.”

Mr. Devane’s eyes widened. “Doctor, please!”

Dr. Winner lifted his hands. “What? I’m talking
about Headmaster Dunn.” Turning back to Edwina, he explained, “We feel his loss enormously, but especially the children—”

“I’m not a child,” Mr. Devane ground out.

“He was their savior, their guide,” Dr. Winner continued, oblivious to Mr. Devane’s irritation. “Our compass through the most trying of times…The accident with Evie, and Prescott’s injuries, and well, it makes the loss all the more…difficult…” He swallowed, suddenly overcome. “It’s…difficult to explain…It’s just so dreadfully…difficult.” His eyes glistened and he looked away.

Mr. Devane’s face softened. Reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, he handed the doctor the linen. The men did not touch, but it was as if a communion of sorts passed between them. Dr. Winner dried the corner of his eye and shot Mr. Devane an appreciative glance. It was a simple exchange but one that spoke volumes.

As he turned, Mr. Devane’s emerald gaze met Edwina’s and that stirring jolt shafted through her middle once more.
How does he manage to do that?

With a nod, Mr. Devane offered, “My jest was in poor taste, my lady, and I apologize if I offended.”

Edwina swallowed, knowing that he’d just given her a graceful way out of the encounter. Part of her knew she should take it, but Mr. Devane’s actions today had convinced her more than ever that he was her man. Well not exactly
her
man, but the one she needed. But how to convince him?

Noting how the men stood side by side, Edwina suddenly knew what she had to do. “Mr. Devane wasn’t jesting about my proposing marriage, Dr. Winner.”

Dr. Winner’s eyes bulged. “But that’s…that’s…”

“Preposterous, ridiculous, absurd,” Edwina supplied. “Especially since I’ve only just met the man. But it’s true, nonetheless.”

Mr. Devane’s gaze was sharp and assessing, as if trying to figure out what she was going to do next. Well, that made two of them.

Edwina bit her bottom lip, then realized what she was doing and stopped. “You spoke so highly of Mr. Devane, and how he saved that little girl’s life, that I came to meet the man for myself.”

“So I have you to thank for this unsolicited visit, Dr. Winner,” Mr. Devane murmured.

She sent him a somewhat quelling glance. “Actually it was your actions that gave me the idea to seek you out, Mr. Devane.” Turning back to the doctor, she clutched her hands to her chest. “You see, Dr. Winner, I want Mr. Devane to act as my betrothed, for a time at least, while I hunt a blackmailer who is plaguing me.”

Dr. Winner’s mouth dropped open. “W-what?” Blinking rapidly, his gaze shot to Mr. Devane and then her and then Devane again. “Is she? Is she…?”

Mr. Devane shrugged. “You’re the one insisting she’s sane.”

The man’s face whitened. “A blackmailer?”

Stepping over to Dr. Winner, Edwina grasped his arm. “Would you like to sit down, Doctor?”

He swallowed, then shook his head “no.”

Edwina sighed. “I need Mr. Devane’s help to stop the knave and had assumed that Headmaster Dunn’s influence would sway him to endorse my efforts. And certainly the incident with Evie convinced me that he would help another in need.”

“You’re not on fire,” Mr. Devane interjected. “You gave the blackmailer whatever ammunition he’s using. Whatever’s going on is your own fault.”

Edwina rounded on him. “So what am I to do? Pay the bastard until I’m bone dry? And in the meantime live with the devil’s scythe over my head trusting that the blackguard is going to honor his word and not destroy me? He’s malicious. He needs to be stopped.”

Dr. Winner scowled, seemingly recovered. “Why won’t you help the lady, Prescott? Where’s your honor, man?”

Mr. Devane’s eye narrowed, obviously not pleased to be forced on the defensive. “For one thing, I’m convalescing—”

“Your burns are just about healed. I can’t see that as any reason not to help a woman in distress.”

“You’re assuming she’s telling the truth—”

“Why would she lie when it’s so damaging to her reputation? Besides, I’ve known Lady Ross for years and have always found her to be quite truthful.”

Mr. Devane locked eyes with Dr. Winner for a long moment, and it appeared as if he was going to argue. Then he looked away. “How do you two know each other, anyway?”

“I treated Lady Ross’s husband, Sir Geoffrey, may he rest in peace,” Dr. Winner supplied. “And I know her family well.” A new light entered his gaze. “What does your father think of this matter, anyway, my lady?”

Edwina’s belly flipped. She swallowed. “My father doesn’t know about the blackmail. And if I can help it, he’ll never know.”

Mr. Devane raised a brow. “And how is he going to
feel about your getting engaged to a grasping fortune hunter mongrel of dubious parentage?”

As sarcastic as he was being, Edwina still flinched at his harsh assessment. Her father would certainly see him as such, as would most in Polite Society. As if Mr. Devane could have helped the situation into which he was born. As if his feelings couldn’t be inspired by anything but material gain. Not that he would ever have any feelings for her in truth…But that wasn’t the point; the inequity of the judgments was.

But her father would never change his ways, any more than Society would. With its often unfair conventions, stratified tiers, and inequitable branding, lineage ruled, much more so than anything else, including money, although that often lent a shine to a lesser pedigree.

Having always been part of a family that was fixated on its ancestry, Edwina suddenly wondered how it felt for Mr. Devane to be so unaffiliated. For all of her family’s idiosyncrasies, they gave her a sense of belonging. Had Prescott Devane ever felt that?

“I have to agree with Prescott there,” Dr. Winner interrupted her thoughts. “Your father would no doubt disapprove of the association, and there’d be hell to pay.”

Bracing herself with a deep breath, Edwina nodded. “No doubt about it.”

“Then why hatch this plan?” Dr. Winner asked. “I don’t understand.”

“I need someone to discourage my suitors. Someone trustworthy to guard my back and help me unmask the blackmailer. I also, well…” Turning away, she nodded. “I must impress upon my father once and for all that he cannot rule my life. I will not abide by his dictates and
will not marry the present suitor my father’s been pressing on me, Viscount Bellwood. This seems the most direct, and”—she shrugged—“effective means of showing that I will not remarry at all.”

Dr. Winner looked appalled.

“Of course.” Mr. Devane scratched his chin. “To your father, your being unmarried is preferable to soiling the bloodlines.”

Prescott Devane was far sharper than even his admirers gave him credit for, and Edwina couldn’t rightly blame them; it was hard to see past that handsome exterior to the astute mind within.

She tilted her head. “Just so you know, I don’t share my father’s opinions on such matters, but yes, that is exactly how he will see it.”

“And under your plan, once the blackmailer is stopped the engagement is over.”

“Yes. We end the engagement after a row or some such.”

Dr. Winner looked horrified. “But your reputation will be blemished by the entire affair so that you won’t be able to marry a decent sort.”

“And as a consequence, my father will finally stop trying to press me to remarry and leave me be. That’s the very end I am hoping for, Dr. Winner.”

Shaking his head, Mr. Devane smiled and Edwina felt his charm like a cloud of perfume that envelops you, heady, yet not so potent as to be offensive. “It’s an interesting plan, Lady Ross. I’ll grant you that.”

Dr. Winner scratched his receding hairline. “I am most unsettled by this entire situation. A blackmailer, well, that’s dreadful. But manipulating your father…
Although the Earl of Wootton-Barrett can be quite, ah…” His cheeks reddened.

“You needn’t say it, Dr. Winner. I love him dearly, but he can be quite…a bull.”

Dr. Winner looked relieved but still troubled. “Yet, to put a father through the agony of watching his daughter in an unfavorable alliance…”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Mr. Devane interjected, yet his tone was teasing.

Dr. Winner shot him a glare. “You know what I mean, Prescott. I love you like a son, but on the surface, you’re not exactly a father-in-law’s dream catch.”

“It’s all right, Doctor. Besides, from what I’ve heard the Earl of Wootton-Barrett is not the man I would want for a father-in-law.” Mr. Devane’s smile was amused. “Not that I’m in the market for one.”

Edwina stepped forward, facing the doctor. “I came up with the idea primarily to stop the blackmailer. The situation with my father was merely…well, inspiration to address another issue. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.” She grimaced. “There has to be a positive aspect to this mess. But ultimately, I need Mr. Devane’s help to go up against the blackmailer. I’ve tried to go it alone and he’s outwitted me every time, taking my money at Society affairs and leaving me with barely a glimpse of him.”

“The blackmailer’s in High Society?” Dr. Winner’s brows lowered. “The devil!”

Edwina nodded. “And he likes to make his exchanges at musicales and the like. But I’ve been stymied in my efforts by suitors pressing for my attentions. Suitors, I might add, who hold more affection for my purse and
my father’s connections than they do for me. There’s no harm in discouraging them as they have no chance for success. Moreover, with them no longer hampering my efforts I can discover the identity of the blackmailer and free myself of his evil tyranny.” Her gaze traveled to Mr. Devane. “But I am smart enough to recognize when I need help.”

“Of course you are. You can’t face this knave alone!” Dr. Winner cried, shooting the younger man a telling glance.

“Ask her why she chose me,” Mr. Devane urged. “Why she thinks I have the skills for such a task.”

Dr. Winner’s expectant gaze swung to face her as if a tennis ball had landed on her side of the net.

She opened her mouth and then closed it, realizing that she needed to choose her words with care.

“The only reason she picked me is for my
lack
of honor,” Mr. Devane remarked.

“That’s not true,” Edwina countered. “It is your principles that make you perfect. You will aid me in stopping this evil man, and then when all is said and done you will keep your word and leave me be. You’re perfect because you’re not one to actually hold me to…” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly realized how terrible that sounded.

“To the betrothal,” Mr. Devane finished for her, his tone derisive. “Nay, an orphaned commoner like me wouldn’t dream of rising to such heights.”

“Prescott, please.” Dr. Winner’s face looked troubled. “It’s not as if you aspire to be her husband.”

“Not in a million years,” he ground out, irking Edwina, but she pushed away the irritation; it was vanity, nothing more.

“Then you must help her. Honor demands it.” Dr. Winner waved a hand. “She can change her hair, get some new gowns…”

“What do new gowns have to do with anything?” Mr. Devane frowned.

Edwina’s hand involuntarily lifted to her chignon.

Dr. Winner’s cheeks shaded pink. “Isn’t that what ladies in love do? And you’re quite the dresser. I’m certain Fanny could take her on as a client in her presentation business—”

“If you somehow managed to identify the blackmailer”—Mr. Devane turned to Edwina—“what then?”

Edwina blinked at the sudden change in topic. “I have connections at the dock, and this man will find himself penniless, sailing for distant shores.”

“The dock?” Mr. Devane licked his lips and Edwina had the oddest sense that what she’d just said had more of an impact on him than anything else.

“The London dock. My husband was a principal. I know it’s not very fashionable for the aristocracy, and a lady no less, to associate with trade of any kind.” Her cheeks heated thinking of Dr. Winner’s suggestion that she improve her hair and wardrobe. “Obviously, I don’t worry overmuch about appearances.”
To my father’s constant horror.
“And, well, over the years I’ve had the opportunity to make some acquaintances in my husband’s business. They will do as I ask.”

“Let me escort you to your carriage,” Mr. Devane suddenly offered, stepping closer and extending his arm.

Edwina blinked, wondering if admitting she engaged in trade had invited such immediate rejection. “But…”

“We can finish our conversation on the way.”

Shooting her an encouraging glance, Dr. Winner bowed. “Good day, my lady. And fare thee well with your…” He seemed to struggle. “…efforts.”

As she placed her hand on Mr. Devane’s elbow, Edwina suddenly shivered. Between the scent of musk, the well-muscled arm, and Mr. Devane’s obvious charm, she was feeling suddenly in over her head.

But that was nonsense. He was simply escorting her outside. She shook off the feeling and walked beside him toward the door.

As they descended the narrow stairs out of the guesthouse, Edwina’s skirts brushed against Mr. Devane’s thighs in an exceedingly disturbing manner. It didn’t help that it seemed overwarm outside with a marked lack of wind, as if Mother Earth was holding her breath.

Walking in the direction of the stables, Edwina hoped that Mr. Devane’s participation in her plan wasn’t more than she’d bargained for. Oddly, when she was with him, she didn’t quite feel like the efficient, confident Edwina Ross that she usually was. In fact, she felt a bit breathless, a bit giddy and more than a bit uncertain. She felt like…a lady in need of rescue.