The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (84 page)

“Is it the money? Do you fear I cannot support you and our children? I am a wealthy man, my love, even without the Driscoll fortune. Not even your father could complain.”

“I seem to have a fortune of my own suddenly. And I would have married you when you had nothing.”

“But not now?” He put a finger on her chin and tipped her head up, forcing her to look at him. “You do not wish to marry me?”

“More than my hopes of heaven. But I do not trust you.”

He dropped her hands. “You think I am a traitor, a coward?”

“I think you will continue to decide what is best for me, like every man has been deciding my entire life. I think you’ll challenge Stourbridge, not caring that you could lose or be hung for an illegal duel. I’d be a widow, mourning you all over again. Mostly I think we are not friends any longer.
You
do not trust
me.”

“I thought you had not waited.”

“If I knew you were alive, I would have waited for ever for your return.”

He dragged his hands through his shaggy hair. “Deuce take it, Red, we cannot change the past. Must we suffer for it for the rest of our lives?”

“I do not know.”

“Come to London and find out. Now that you’re an heiress, go buy new clothes and jewels, another three dogs for your aunt. Attend the theatre, see the opera. Enjoy yourself, my love. You deserve it, and we deserve another chance to become the friends we used to be, the lovers we should have been. No one will shun a beautiful, rich woman, I promise you, especially after we reveal what a villain Stourbridge has been. Hints of an engagement, and your aunt as chaperone, will still any gossip. As for your worrying over a gentlemanly duel, I never intended to give Stourbridge that much of a chance to shoot me in the back. He did not offer to meet me at dawn, or treat my lady with honour. The scoundrel is no gentleman.” He grinned. “And I have learned how to fight dirty.”

Millie still wasn’t sure. She was certain of her heart, but not of her courage.

She tumbled into the room from where she’d obviously been listening with her ear against the door. “I’ve never had my chance in London, and they—”everyone knew she meant her brother and his wife, who were right behind her in the hallway “—will never take me because of what happened to Millie.”

“You cannot go stay in a bachelor’s house with no one to chaperone but a crazy old lady who speaks to dogs,” Lady Cole pronounced.

At which Aunt Mary shot back: “And you should hear what they say about you, you tub of lard.”

“I suppose we could all go,” the Baron suggested, “since no one could find fault if my sisters are under my care. Driscoll needs my help to prove his bona fides and re-establish himself. My knowledge of the law, don’t you know.”

No one believed he had any such knowledge, but Winnie enthusiastically seconded Cole’s offer to let her go to London. So did Noel, for reasons of his own, having to do with the little beauty.

“And if Stourbridge is routed,” Cole added, “we can be comfortable again in town.” Which he sorely missed, with his clubs and his convenients. “But Cole House is leased for the year.”

Ted bowed to the inevitable, and the only way he could guarantee Millie going to London. “You are all invited to stay at my home, of course. I am afraid, though, that there is no provision for children at Driscoll House. The nurseries have been in holland covers for decades, and the armament collection is too dangerous.” To say nothing of the priceless heirlooms.

Lady Cole loved the idea of getting back her rightful place in the beau monde, but she hated giving up control of her disappointing husband or her spoiled sister-in-law, especially to this great hairy bear of a man whose social standing had not been settled. “I refuse to travel without my children,” she said.

Her husband smiled. “Good. That’s settled then. I’ll escort my sisters and my aunt, and you shall stay behind with the little dears.”

“What? I never said—”

No one listened to her sputtering. They all waited for Millie’s decision. They couldn’t very well go if she didn’t.

Ted knelt beside her again, his hand cupping her face. “I need you beside me, Millie Mine. Every day, every way.”

A tear ran down her cheek, on to his fingers. “Heaven help me, I need you too.”

Now Aunt Mary sniffled, and even Noel had to clear his throat.

“But you have to promise me, Theodore Driscoll, on your word of honour, that you will not let that man kill you. That we will run away together if your innocence is not proved. That you will never go off and leave me again.”

“I promise, my love,” he said, and sealed the bargain with a kiss.

Lady Cole started carping about how they’d simply cause another scandal at this rate. No one listened to her that time, either. Lord Cole called for champagne, for a toast.

They were going to London.

This trip was far different from Millie’s recent one. The journey took hours, for one thing, not days. And Millie’s conveyance was a fancy open curricle with a competent whip for a driver: Ted. Noel and Cole were on horseback alongside, and Aunt Mary and Winnie — who was threatened with staying behind with Lady Cole unless she was on her best behaviour — sat in luxury in the Driscoll family coach. Mr Armstead rode with them. The solicitor joined the travellers because he knew the best barristers, if one should be needed for Lord Driscoll’s affair; he also felt a debt to Miss Mildred Cole for letting her languish in Bristol so long. At first he worried about a conflict of interests, representing both families, but Mr Armstead could see for himself how the new Viscount and the former outcast were on close, even intimate terms. The distinguished, middle-aged bachelor was also relieved, and delighted, to be seated across from Miss Marisol Cole, a lovely woman of delightful nature. Her dogs were delightful too.

Ted had sent word of their arrival, so servants were lined up outside Driscoll House waiting to welcome them with every comfort a viscount’s dwelling could offer. They dined at home that evening and made an early night of it after the excitement of the move. The campaign began the next day.

Ted went to the War Office. Millie went to the shops.

Ted met with the Home Secretary. Millie met with a banker Mr Armstead recommended, to transfer her monies into her own name with a separate account for Aunt Mary.

The new viscount hired six brawny men to guard his back, his home and his beloved. Millie hired two lady’s maids, a dresser, a coiffeur, a seamstress, a dance instructor and a social secretary.

Ted called on his godmother, the Dowager Duchess of Southead. Millie called on her late mother’s best friend, the current Duchess of Southead.

Ted visited the gentlemen’s clubs, his own, his brothers’, his father’s. Millie visited the modiste, the corsetière, the bootmaker and the lending libraries.

Ted got his hair cut. Millie did not.

At night they all attended the theatre, the opera, even the circus at Astley’s Amphitheatre. Millie was never far from the Viscount’s side, while her beautiful young sister hung on Lord Noel Driscoll’s arm. A maiden aunt and a well-respected lawyer provided watchful chaperonage, along with the girls’ brother. They were all seen, admired and endlessly speculated about. No one approached them or sought their acquaintance, however, despite the rumours flying through town that the Prince himself was considering taking up Driscoll’s cause. No one wanted to risk the powerful and prickly Stourbridge’s displeasure until they saw how the cards fell.

Stourbridge was at the races in Epsom, due back in London in a week. He had to know of Ted’s miraculous survival via the servants’ grapevine, and of Lord Driscoll’s arrival with Stourbridge’s former fiancée to boot. The Earl had to be seething. Or shaking in his boots, if half the gossip were true. The ton was atwitter with the talk, aghast that one of their own could behave so reprehensibly, agog for the Earl’s return and the outcome.

Millie and Ted were alone almost never. How else to restore a lost reputation? But how to reclaim a lost friendship? They stole hours at night, long after the others were abed and the servants dismissed, that’s how.

Millie marvelled at how Ted was even more handsome than she remembered, now that he’d shaved. She wept over the scars the beard and moustache had hidden. The Viscount admired how Millie’s figure had grown more womanly, and her glorious hair had grown longer. He spent hours combing it through his fingers, smoothing out the night plait her maid spent hours braiding. They spoke of books, Bristol and his business, of travels they hoped to take and changes they would make in the townhouse. They discussed the reforms Ted could enact when he took his seat in Parliament and which party best suited their values. Sometimes they disagreed, but they listened to each other with respect and considered the opposing views. They fell back into the old camaraderie as easily as Aunt Mary’s dogs found the most comfortable sleeping nooks and the most sympathetic servants in their new residence. It was as if Ted and Millie’s closeness was part of their very natures, unaffected by time or distance.

What was new was passion. Not that the pair hadn’t felt attraction before or had treated each other like siblings, but they’d been young, innocent and honourable. Now they were adults, aroused by each other’s scents and shapes and skin. They had grown-up desires, growing by the minute, and so many wasted years to make up for.

The household might know how Ted and Millie spent their late-night/early-morning hours and why Miss Cole’s hair looked like one of the dogs had slept in it, but no one interfered. The sooner the wedding, the better for everyone. Driscoll House would have a mistress. Aunt Mary would have a comfortable home — if her hopes for Mr Armstead went unfulfilled. Winnie would have a wealthy sponsor for her season, her brother a high-placed brother-in-law, and Noel freedom to pursue his own pleasures.

Then Lord Stourbridge returned to town. Ted knew because he had men on his payroll to keep watch at the Earl’s residence and clubs.

“You cannot be thinking of calling on him at his own home, in private,” Millie insisted. “Not without taking the Lord High Magistrate, the sheriff and the Horse Guards. Otherwise, he will shoot you as you walk through the door. Or have his hired thugs do it for him.”

“No, I will not meet him in private. Your disgrace was made public. My supposed treachery was made public. The man succeeds by whispering. Let him hear the whispers now. Out in public, not hidden away in a fortress.”

Millie had to be honest. “I do believe his humiliation was fairly public, as he waited for his bride to appear at the church. I could almost feel sorry for him, on the brink of losing everything he holds dear, except for what he did to you.”

“We will never be safe if he is left alive in England.”

She knew. “Be careful.”

Lord Driscoll waited until the Southead Ball. The Dowager Duchess had been gracious enough to include Winifred in her granddaughter’s come-out celebration. They knew Stourbridge was attending because no one declined Her Grace’s invitations. Her balls were always memorable, and her approval necessary for entry to the haut monde. Stourbridge was so arrogant, so confident of his own worth that he’d count on facing down any criticism simply by appearing there. Further, common opinion held Stourbridge considering the granddaughter for his countess. He was considering her dowry and connections, at any rate. Not that either duchess would permit him within a mile of the young girl, not now.

Silence fell over the assembled guests as the elegant party from Driscoll House arrived at the ball. The Viscount’s tailor, barber and valet had turned the savage colonial out to perfection, the paragon of upper-class British manhood, which meant he was dressed like every other male in the room in black and white.

Millie wore green: a green silk gown, green satin slippers, a bandeau of green velvet around her red curls and the Driscoll family emeralds. Women turned green at the sight.

Suddenly everyone wanted to know them. Millie could have danced every set, if she hadn’t promised all her dances to Ted, her brother, Ted, Noel, Mr Armstead, Ted and the Duke of Southead. Winnie became equally as popular. She’d be in transports over her success, except for Noel scowling at her dance partners. Even Miss Marisol Cole created a modest stir among the older gentlemen, she looked so handsome in the new gown Millie had shamed Ned into purchasing for her, aside from the wardrobe Millie provided.

They danced, they chatted, they strolled, and they kept looking for Stourbridge. He’d arrived, Ted’s informants reported. As soon as he was refused a dance with the Duchess’ debutante, he went to the card room, where Southead himself invited the Earl to play a hand in his private library. The Duke also sent word to Ted.

The Viscount left Millie with her aunt and gestured her brother and Noel to come with him. Millie waited three minutes, then followed.

So did several others who had an inkling of the coming confrontation.

Stourbridge looked up from his cards and sneered when he saw the men facing him. “Still a coward, I see, Driscoll. Too afraid to face me by yourself after those lies you’ve been spewing.”

Ted did not rise to the Earl’s bait. “No lies, Stourbridge. And these are witnesses, not reinforcements.”

Stourbridge took a long, deliberate sip of his wine. Then he tossed the rest of the contents of the glass in Ted’s face. “Very well, consider yourself challenged. Pick one of your lily-livered cohorts to be your second. Swords or pistols, it matters not. You’ll be dead by daybreak. Permanently, I trust.”

Ted had to restrain Noel from charging at the Earl. “There will be no duel. That’s for gentlemen. And these others—” he waved his hand at Ned, Noel, the Duke, three men in the doorway “—will not interfere if you choose to go out to the garden with me now, man to man, no weapons but our fists. I would like nothing better than to water His Grace’s roses with your blood. But you have a choice.”