The Devil Earl (20 page)

S
hrugging off his strange mood, Sebastian walked through the servants’ entrance, as had become his habit of late. The town house was cold and quiet, however, for the kitchen staff were abed, and only a few lights burned over sleepy footmen. Stepping over assorted trunks and the odd piece of furniture that was destined to go with him, Sebastian moved to the doorway of the room where his steward was still shuffling papers, and rested his hand against the jamb. Suddenly he wondered if the man ever slept.

“There has been a change of plans, Martin,” he said softly.

The steward’s arm jerked, and his head came up in surprise. “Oh, you startled me, my lord!” he muttered, obviously embarrassed.

“I have been known to do that,” Sebastian said with a wry smile. Pausing for Martin to recover his composure, the earl glanced around the room, where crates stood waiting to be moved. “I shall not be going to Yorkshire, as yet.”
If ever,
he thought, surprising himself. Perhaps his destiny lay not in returning to his roots but in putting down new ones, and what more fitting place than Wolfinger, which had harbored his kind for centuries? “I have decided to go to Wolfinger, after all.”

“But I just told them to close it up again,” Martin protested. Amused at the unusual outburst, Sebastian watched as Martin brought himself under control. The steward had good cause to be exasperated, for Sebastian had, indeed, been toying with Wolfinger’s charms for some time now.

“I am sorry, my lord. I will send a messenger to the abbey, of course,” Martin said.

“Do not bother. I am leaving Friday.”

“Friday? But I can hardly get a man there in time!”

“Do not worry yourself over it, Martin,” Sebastian said. He had never let himself become upset over such mundane details. The house would be opened and staffed as soon as possible, and that would have to do well enough. Pulling away from the door, he suddenly stopped and rubbed a palm across his chin thoughtfully.

Perhaps the delay could work to his advantage, Sebastian mused. He pictured Prudence standing alone in the vastness of Wolfinger, wandering the dimly lit galleries like one of her heroines, and he smiled slowly. He knew as surely as he breathed that she would love it, and in pleasing her, he knew, he would well please himself. Sebastian wrestled with an unfamiliar stab of excitement and raised an expressionless face to his steward.

“In fact, it might be better if the house were not officially opened,” he said, ignoring Martin’s dumbfounded stare. “I will take care of all the arrangements when I get there.”

“But, my lord, you will need quite a few servants for a residence the size of the abbey. I believe that a couple are kept on retainer, and some you may hire locally, but still, you will need kitchen help, maids, footmen, stablemen, grooms. I can attend to it personally, my lord,” he offered. “Some of those who were to go to Yorkshire with you may be sent to the abbey, instead, so that you need suffer no hardship.”

Hardship! Sebastian wanted to laugh. He had grown up with no more than a cook and a day girl in the household, and had suffered nothing from it. He remembered how awed he had been by the retinue that followed his uncle, attending to Otho’s every need, yet now he had those very same people serving him, and what pleasure did he gain from it? He had become so accustomed to innumerable servants that they seemed no more than elaborate fixtures. These days, privacy was his unheard-of luxury, and it appealed to him suddenly.

Unless he was to ruin Prudence totally in the eyes of her friends and neighbors in Cornwall, certain proprieties would have to be observed, but without the eyes of the staff upon them, they would definitely have more freedom. Sebastian pictured the Gothic structure practically deserted, except for Prudence and himself, and he felt himself surge to life. He remembered specific rooms, empty of all but shadows and some comfortable furnishings, that would make excellent places for an assignation with his imaginative lady.

“No,” he said softly. “I shall go along unannounced, and I do not want anyone apprised of my whereabouts, either,” he added. “You may go on to Yorkshire and wait for me there. I do not wish to be disturbed, unless it is something to do with James.”

Martin looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “But, surely, you wish to take your butler, your valet?” the steward sputtered.

“No,” Sebastian said smoothly. He turned, then paused again on the threshold as something else struck him. “My butler belongs here, Martin. See if you can find him a position with the new owner. And give my valet the month off, with wages, of course,” he said, waving dismissively. Then he turned on his heel, ignoring Martin’s gasps of surprise, and strode down the dim hallway with a spring in his step.

After only a moment’s hesitation, he took the back stairway up to his rooms, his feet moving easily over the worn
wood. With a kind of heady discovery, he realized that he felt suddenly lighter, as if he were years younger, and his body buzzed with anticipation for the first time in long memory. He could not wait to get to Wolfinger.

Prudence intended to bring up her impending journey at the breakfast table, for that was the only time she could be assured that the household might all be together. Phoebe had become fast friends with Miss Emma Sampson, a lovely young girl whose dark beauty contrasted with Phoebe’s own blond appeal, and the two seemed always to be busy together. Miss Sampson’s mother, a dainty widow, had proclaimed herself quite taken with Phoebe, and had been squiring both girls around to various functions.

The arrangement had suited Prudence perfectly, for she would much rather work upon her new book than rush about from one dreadfully crowded party to another. Phoebe seemed well pleased, too, for she was all smiles of late. There had been no more odd outbursts, and, what was more, Prudence had seen very little of Mr. Darlington, which satisfied her quite well. Everyone occupying Hugh’s apartments appeared content.

Unfortunately, it was into this pleasant atmosphere that Prudence was going to make her announcement. Knowing it would be greeted less than enthusiastically, she steeled herself for the disapproval to come. She reminded herself firmly that she was a woman of independent age and income, and, as such, did not have to bow to anyone’s rules but her own.

She cleared her throat. “Phoebe, dear, would you care to accompany me home for a short visit?” she asked.

“Home?” Phoebe asked, plainly startled. “To the cottage? To Cornwall?”

Prudence smiled. “Yes, that is our home, darling.”

“Now?” Phoebe’s normally gentle voice was rising precipitously.

Before Prudence could answer, Hugh lowered his newspaper. “Home? Who is talking about home? You aren’t thinking of leaving, are you?” Prudence felt a twinge of guilt at her cousin’s stricken expression. Although she had seen no evidence of his alleged tendre for her, he had seemed glad enough to have her company during the past few weeks. Hugh was, she decided, sadly in need of an interest to occupy his excessive free time.

“Just for a short while, I believe,” Prudence said.

“But how? When?” Phoebe asked, looking even more distressed than Prudence had expected. “I have finally made some friends here in town! You cannot expect me to just leave them at a moment’s notice.”

“I had hoped that you might enjoy a brief jaunt—” Prudence began, but her sister did not let her finish.

“The season is nearly over! You promised me a season, Prudence,” Phoebe said, in something perilously close to a whine.

Prudence sighed. “We have been here two months already, Phoebe. I just thought—”

“Two months in which I have not been afforded a chance to come into my own, but have trailed in the wake of the celebrated authoress! And now that you are the laughingstock of Ravenscar and his cronies and I am finally making my mark, you would drag me back to Cornwall!”

Phoebe rose and tossed down her napkin in a dramatic repetition of her earlier outburst. “I can see now that you had your own motives for coming to London, and I did not figure in them at all!” She glanced around the table, her lips trembling as though she might burst into tears at any moment.

“Here now, Phoebe!” Hugh said, leaping into the breach. “There is no call to take on so. If you don’t want to
go home, then your sister will just have to stay here, won’t she?” he asked, eyeing Prudence pointedly.

“No,” Prudence answered firmly. “I am leaving Friday. Lord Ravenscar has promised me a look at Wolfinger Abbey, and I intend to take it. I have always maintained a keen interest in the structure—”

“Ravenscar!” Hugh and Phoebe gasped in unison. Hugh stared at her in horror, his face changing color, while he sputtered, unable, apparently, to find words to describe the depth of his distress. Phoebe, on the other hand, had no such difficulty. Her sad countenance changed to one of unmistakable rebellion.

“I will not go!” she proclaimed. “I refuse to be dragged around by that monstrous fellow!” Then she turned toward Hugh, her strident manner replaced by a soft and beseeching tone. “You understand, don’t you, Cousin? You will let me remain here, won’t you, Hugh?”

Hugh eyed her with some startlement. “Of course I understand your reluctance to go off with that…that fellow.” He glanced from Phoebe to her sister and back again, as if the situation were beyond his experience. “But, I don’t see as how you can stay here, Phoebe. It would not be entirely proper,” he protested.

“Oh!” Phoebe stamped a dainty foot and glared at both of them. “Well, then, I shall simply have to go to Emma. I will be more than welcome there, you can be sure!” Turning on her heel, she flounced out of the room, calling loudly for Jane to take round a note to her friend.

Prudence watched her go with a heavy heart, for she had not anticipated such a strong reaction to her news. Although she thought both Hugh and her sister might try to prevent her from going, she had not expected Phoebe to be quite so…petty.

Her sister’s own words returned to her, and Prudence decided it was a fitting description for Phoebe’s behavior. Not once during her little scene had Phoebe evidenced the
slightest concern for Prudence, who would be going away with a man she considered a murderer. Nor had she considered Hugh’s feelings when she put him in such an awkward position, or those of her friend, who might be inconvenienced by her visit. Never had she stopped to wonder whether Prudence’s money was running low or what the proposed trip might entail.

Phoebe had thought only of herself. Her wants. Her need to be the center of attention.

With a shock, Prudence realized it had always been that way. Doted upon because of her beauty and her taking ways, Phoebe had reigned as the undisputed belle of the countryside. With no rivals, she might have continued on, accepting the acclaim as her due and never exposing her spoiled center. But here, among the elegant titled ladies, wealthy cits and exotic demireps, Phoebe was nothing more than a pretty, green girl with no dowry, and her character, being tested, had displayed its lack.

Obviously unable to accept the truth about herself, Phoebe blamed Prudence for her failure to become an instant sensation, and Prudence did not care for it. For the first time in her life, she was genuinely angry with Phoebe. She had worked hard to finance this season, had put up with Mrs. Broadgirdle’s ill temper and Hugh’s domineering ways, and had used what little notoriety she had to gain Phoebe entree to society. And instead of a thank-you, she received a set-down.

Dismay, disappointment and a gnawing guilt at her own part in spoiling her sister warred within her breast, and this time, Prudence did not chase after Phoebe. She simply let her go, staring after her sadly.

“Now look what you have done!” Hugh said. “I cannot believe how selfishly you have behaved toward your dear sister.”

Prudence turned to gaze curiously at her cousin, newly amazed at his lack of sensitivity. How a man could be intelligent
and verbose and yet so…cloddish was beyond her. “Phoebe will be fine, Hugh,” Prudence answered tiredly. “Let her stay with her friends while I am gone, if it will make her happy.”

As if her words had recalled to Hugh his initial outrage, he began to sputter once more. “You really cannot expect me to let you go off with him, do you? Are you mad? You will be ruined!”

“Nonsense! I am simply sharing his coach. I shall take Jane with me,” Prudence added.

“Dash it all, Prudence! You cannot go. Why, you are showing no more sense than one of those witless hens you write about!” Hugh said, rising to pace around the room. “Are you deliberately following in their footsteps?”

Prudence ducked her head to hide her flushed cheeks, for she was undeniably thrilled about being whisked off to the old abbey by the Devil Earl himself. On the other hand, her practical side assured her the trip was nothing more, or less, than a carriage ride to a shared destination, however intriguing that destination might be. “Nonsense,” she argued.

“Prudence, do not go with him!” Hugh urged her vehemently.

“Oh, this is absurd! We are but using the same coach, a time-honored practice!” Prudence said. “Would you rather I took the stage?”

Hugh stopped his pacing to eye her in a considering way, and for a moment, she thought he was going to tell her to take public transportation, but then his face fell, signaling his surrender.

“No,” he said, drawing himself up. “It seems I cannot reason with you, Prudence. I would have thought a woman of your years and sensibility immune to such schemes, but then, more than one female has been gulled by the Devil Earl. Go with him, then,” Hugh said, raising a hand in for-bearance,
“but take your chaperone, and not some silly young maid, with you.”

He paused, rocking on his heels, as if preparing to make some momentous announcement. “As to your return,” he said, studying his boots, “we shall have to see exactly when and how it is to be arranged, as to whether I can be of assistance.”

Prudence felt herself color anew at the implication of his words. If she left, against Hugh’s wishes, would she not be welcomed back? Glancing up at her cousin, she saw a rather triumphant gleam in his eyes that confirmed her suspicions all too well. Hugh was stooping to little better than blackmail!