Virginia Henley (14 page)

“Brainless, ye mean.”

“I could say something nasty, but I recline!” John Bull said, quitting the kitchen with his dignity intact, and retreating upstairs for the remainder of the day.

Before Savage left the house he received a note from Mr. Watson advising him of a house that might suit, but before he went to his solicitors he decided to visit the Saville Row tailor they had recommended. He felt slightly uncomfortable as he stepped into the haute monde establishment. He had never been inside a gentlemen’s outfitters before. In his youth his clothes had been secondhand and in the Indies a tailor came to his ship or the plantation.

The men serving in the shop were out-and-out snobs who showed contempt for anything that was not the height of fashion, but when they discerned that money was no
object, they fawned upon him. They let it be known that they dressed the Prince of Wales and would transform Adam Savage from a gauche colonial to a nonpareil. It was at this moment they learned Indian Savage had a mind and a will of his own.

He ordered two dozen white shirts and neckcloths of the finest material but plainest design. He was measured for coats in blue, claret, and black superfine and sober waistcoats in slightly contrasting colors. He ordered breeches that fit the leg well, trousers that buttoned at the ankle, and half a dozen pairs of buckskins. They sold him riding gloves and driving gloves, but could not talk him into the new dog-skin gloves that were all the rage. He purchased a beaver hat but were scandalized when he refused every tricorn they showed him as well as the wigs to wear beneath them. They told him he would never be acceptable to society if he insisted upon wearing his own, unpowdered locks. They finally persuaded him to be fitted for black satin for evening wear, but no amount of coercion on their part could talk him into white “inexpressibles.” He bought a top hat, a cape, and even silk stockings, but laughed in their faces when their bootmaker suggested high heels.

He was measured for dress boots, Hessians, and top boots to wear with his buckskins, but insisted they all be black. He left them shaking their heads. They had done their best to explain that to be dressed well nowadays was far from being well dressed, and that fashion had become a battle between taste and gaudiness.

When Savage called at his solicitors they told him of a town house that was for sale not far from the Lamb house.

“I prefer a house in the city. It’s much more convenient for business. I thought somewhere handy to the banks and the East India Company on Leadenhall Street.”

Both Watson and Goldman were aghast. Such an unfashionable address would be a handicap, they assured him. A man of his stature must buy in Mayfair. It was an
unfortunate fact of life, but a man was judged by his address.

Savage agreed to view the town house in Half-Moon Street, then hurried off to buy himself a carriage. He selected a coach that would quickly get him from London to Gravesend on the new turnpike and a fine pair of matched bays to pull it. He couldn’t resist buying a light perch-phaeton reputed to go thirty miles an hour if you had the right cattle with enough stamina to keep up the pace, so before he left the area he picked out a pair of high-stepping blacks and didn’t bat an eye when his bill was tallied at over three thousand pounds.

With unflagging energy he made his way to Leadenhall Street, where the East India Company had its headquarters. As well as the lease he had with them for Leopard’s Leap, he owned a substantial number of shares. Inside, the largest chamber with a round skylight and balcony was called the “courtroom.” Savage learned there was to be a meeting of shareholders held the following week and he made a mental note to attend.

He turned as a friendly voice spoke behind him. “I can see you are not long back from the Indies. I need advice on my investments and in return perhaps I can give you some about London. It’s probably changed a great deal since you were last here.”

He offered his hand to a square-faced gentleman about his own age.

“Adam Savage, returned this week from Ceylon.”

“Now, where have I heard that name?” The man introduced himself as Cavendish, but when the men who passed by nodded and murmured, “Devonshire,” Savage realized he was conversing with the Duke of Devonshire. They struck up an immediate acquaintance, each recognizing that they shared similar qualities. Both were no-nonsense mens’ men with good heads for business and a knack for garnering more than their fair share of this world’s goods.

They touched on many things in the short time they spoke, including politics. “We need men like you in the house,” Devonshire declared.

“I have no seat,” replied Savage, stating the obvious.

“A bribe of a few paltry pounds can obtain you a seat in the Commons,” Devonshire enlightened him.

Savage tucked the information away.

“We’re having a dinner party at Devonshire House next week. I’ll get Georgiana to put you on the guest list. Do come. Half the people will be friends of my wife and the Prince of Wales, but I assure you I’ve invited some intelligent people too. James Wyatt, the architect, and Pope, the writer-philosopher fellow. I could invite Warren Hastings, the ex-Governor from India, if you like.”

“I already know two of those gentlemen. Wyatt has designed a house for me in Gravesend that I haven’t even seen yet.”

“That’s where I heard your name, of course!” Devonshire said, thoroughly pleased with making his acquaintance.

“It will be my pleasure to come,” Adam accepted. “By then I should be in possession of more civilized attire.”

Savage did not return to the house in Curzon Street until it was time for dinner. Upstairs, both John Bull and Kirinda met him with woebegone looks. They had laid out fresh linen for him, but felt shame that the master would have to wash with water in a jug and bowl.

“What is amiss?” he asked John Bull.

“I have two terrible things to relate that will greatly disturb you, Excellency. The servant girl has lice. I would not let Kirinda go downstairs for fear of contamination.”

“How did you discover this, John Bull?”

“She told me herself. She said that was why she covered her hair with that hideous cap.”

Savage assumed he’d again gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick and asked calmly, “And the other thing that will disturb me?”

“The pig woman ate Rupee!” he blurted.

Savage bit his lip to keep from laughing. Though Mrs. Hogg was likely guilty of greed, he doubted the scrawny mynah had whetted her appetite. “I take it you did not integrate well with the staff,” he said dryly. He looked at Kirinda. “Have you eaten today?”

She lowered black lashes over liquid eyes and shook her head.

Savage knew there was absolutely no point in castigating John Bull. The stubborn Tamil would have fasted a month before he would have lost face, and poor Kirinda would not even be considered.

“In that case, shall we go down to dinner?”

“Whether we are in Ceylon or England, it is unacceptable for us to dine with you, master.”

“Since you insist I am your master, you must obey my orders, and I order that we go down to dinner, John Bull.”

“Yes, Excellency,” he replied, chastized.

In the dining room Savage said to Fenton, “Would you inform Mrs. Hogg there will be three for dinner?” He held Kirinda’s chair and bade John Bull be seated.

Mrs. Hogg bustled out and almost dropped the soup tureen when she saw she would have to serve Savage’s servants. The grim line of her mouth showed her resentment.

In a silken drawl Savage said, “Mrs. Hogg, I should like to apologize for leaving my mynah bird in your hall. I had no idea you would take exception. Kindly remove it to my chamber.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Also, Mrs. Hogg,” he drawled, “I profusely apologize if John Bull addressed you as pig woman. He meant no disrespect, I assure you. It was simply a mixup of language.”

“Apology accepted.” Mrs. Hogg bridled, casting a scornful look in the servant’s direction.

Savage’s next words dropped like icicles. “Now it is your turn.”

As she looked into his icy blue eyes a shiver ran down her spine. “My turn?” she questioned.

“Yes, your turn. You will apologize for your disgraceful treatment of this man and woman. You left them without food and drink all day, simply because the color of their skin is different from yours.”

Mrs. Hogg’s face turned motley purple. “I apologize,” she muttered, having little choice.

Savage’s silky voice returned, but his blue eyes remained glacial. “Mrs. Hogg, if what I smell coming from your kitchen is turnips, I suggest you save them for your own delectation and serve us something a little more appetizing.”

Mrs. Hogg thwarted was not a pretty sight. She disappeared into her sanctum and did not return. In a few moments Dora appeared to serve them dinner. Three pairs of eyes converged upon her cap. It was lace. Adam Savage’s eyes brimmed with amusement. “Very pretty,” he murmured, watching the corners of her mouth turn up with pleasure.

With the invaluable help of Messrs. Watson and Goldman, Savage’s gold was deposited, a male secretary by the name of Sloane was engaged, and an offer made for the town house in Half-Moon Street.

When the post was delivered there was the promised invitation for the dinner party at Devonshire House and
also a reply from Stoke. Savage tore it open, then scanned the page of beautiful writing from Lord Lamb.

Savage realized Russell’s children would be in mourning because of their father’s death, but it was months past and no fit reason for refusing to receive him at Lamb Hall. The curt note told him plainly that his wards wanted him to keep his distance. What were they up to? The note only served to precipitate a visit to Stoke sooner than Savage had planned.

He spoke with John Bull. “I have to leave London immediately for a few days, but that creates a dilemma. I know you have no desire to remain in this house without me, so the only alternative seems to be to take you both to the house at Gravesend. I planned on letting you choose the servants you will need to staff Edenwood, but at the moment there is no time for that.”

He explained further. “The house is unfurnished and without servants, but perhaps you can make do for a few days.”

John Bull, eager to occupy his own domain, replied, “Once we arrive, Excellency, it will not be without servants. A mat upon the floor will suffice.”

Savage knew that John Bull meant exactly what he said. “I don’t believe we’ll have to resort to such Spartan measures, but thank you.” As an afterthought he decided to take along his new secretary. The things he would have to
deal with would be unorthodox, but it would be a damned good test to see how he coped.

Savage decided to drive his own carriage and the team of bays. Kirinda sat inside with most of the luggage, while John Bull rode one of the Arabs that Savage had brought from Ceylon. Jeffrey Sloane sat next to his new employer as they bowled along the new turnpike, admiring his skill with the horses. He also made notes as Savage gave him instructions. “I’ve never seen the house, other than in my mind’s eye,” Savage told him, “so if the place is not yet habitable, we’ll put up at an inn. As I see it, the most pressing things you’ll have to acquire are fodder for the horses, food for yourselves, and utensils to cook it in. Then, of course, you’ll need beds and linen. Everything else can wait. Let John Bull select whatever he wants. He has an unerring eye for choosing the best. You will be in charge of the purse strings, however. John Bull tends to haggle for everything and I don’t wish to offend the merchants of Gravesend before they’ve even seen me.”

As Adam Savage approached Edenwood, he experienced a strange sense of coming home. As the carriage emerged from a stand of oaks, the magnificent house rose up before him in all its splendor. It was the culmination of his every hope and dream. He pulled the horses to a halt outside the stables and strode up the drive that led to the front entranceway. He needed to be alone while he viewed the house for the first time. As he moved from room to room, drinking in as many details as he could, he fell hopelessly in love. He took the circular staircase two steps at once and by the time he had stepped out on his bedchamber balcony atop the west portico he had surrendered up his heart.

Wyatt was a master, a genius. It would be a labor of love to furnish Edenwood. Though it would take time, he vowed to select each and every piece to beautify and enhance this perfect setting. Savage wanted to linger, to look and touch and breathe in every last detail, but duty called
him. He knew he must carry on the other twelve miles to Stoke to meet the twins he had begun to think of as his son and daughter. That he had Edenwood to return to was a comforting thought.

Leaving his people to cope, as he knew they could, Savage mounted the Arab that John Bull had ridden and made his way to Stoke. He was struck by the remoteness of Lamb Hall. It was a lovely, warm country hall with a couple of tenant farms, but Stoke itself was just a rustic village. The Hall sat isolated on the edge of the Medway, just before it opened into the sea. It was a lovely place to bring up young children, but rather removed from the world for a youth of Anthony Lamb’s age, thought Savage.

Antonia saw the dark, powerful man astride the black horse as she glanced through the front window. She knew without being told who it was. Panic arose in her. “Roz! He’s here!” she cried, taking the stairs two at a time in hasty retreat. “Get rid of him!”

She now occupied Anthony’s chamber and she flung herself into a chair by the window where she would be able to see the unwanted visitor take his leave. She picked up her book, then set it unread upon her knee as her mercurial thoughts flashed about and her heart beat wildly with trepidation.

“Oh, God, Tony, why did you have to leave me to face him on my own?” she whispered accusingly. It had been almost two months since he had been lost. In her mind she was always careful to think of Tony as “lost” rather than “drowned.” She recalled how her brother had resented having a guardian to answer to, while she herself had had an insatiable curiosity about the man in Ceylon and the stately home he was having built.

Good God, what had possessed her to make all those extravagant and extremely costly suggestions to improve Edenwood? She’d done it from rancor. Since she had been deprived of money to spend, she had spent his, and with a lavish hand. Of course that had all happened before
the boating accident while she thought their guardian in far-off Ceylon. Now she was masquerading as her twin brother and Adam Savage was a very real, flesh-and-blood authority figure who must be faced.

One glimpse of the powerful, dark-visaged man told her she had behaved idiotically. Only a fool would deliberately anger the man who had control of her life and finances until she became of age, and he did not look like a man who suffered fools gladly. Her heart sank as she realized she had no choice but to face him, but, oh, please God, not today.

Mr. Burke opened the door and took the man’s measure. Savage had no calling card, but in a deep voice he introduced himself to the majordomo and told him he was come to see Lord Anthony Lamb.

Roz came forward to greet him. “Good day, Mr. Savage, I am Rosalind Randolph, Anthony’s grandmother. Won’t you come in?” She exchanged a surprised look with Mr. Burke that told him Savage was nothing like she had expected. As she led the tall, dark man into the sitting room her heart did an erratic little dance at the impact of his dramatic looks. His face told her he probably had a sinister past and that his reputation with women would be scandalous. He was a man to be reckoned with. A devilishly attractive scoundrel.

Adam Savage’s penetrating blue gaze noticed every detail of the attractive older woman. This was where Eve had gotten her elegance, yet he could see Rosalind had been far more beautiful than her daughter. He waited until she sat down then took a seat opposite her. Without preamable he said, “Lady Randolph, I came to bring you words of comfort on my first visit. Your daughter is recovering well from the shock of Lord Russell’s death. She is a practical woman and knows it is better this way than having Russell linger for years as an invalid.”

“Thank you for news of my daughter, Mr. Savage. Eve has a resilience others would envy.”

Savage knew immediately that Rosalind was a shrewd woman. “From the moment I knew I was returning to England, I looked forward to meeting Antonia and Anthony.”

Suddenly a wedge of grief choked Rosalind’s throat and she had to fight back the tears. The man before her looked as strong as the Rock of Gibraltar and she had an overwhelming urge to tell him of their great loss. “Mr. Savage, we have had another bereavement. I’m afraid you will never be able to meet my granddaughter, Antonia.”

Savage was shocked. The note he’d received said they were in mourning, but he’d had no idea there had been another death. Dear God, when Eve learned she had lost her daughter, she would be distraught. His heart went out to the brave lady before him. “I am saddened by the loss, but when I think of your loss, madam, I am humbled. However did it happen, if you can bring yourself to speak of it?”

The note of compassion in his voice almost undid her, but she recounted the storm and the sailing accident with touching composure.

“You never found her body?” he asked.

Roz shook her head. “It was almost two months ago, so all hope is gone, I’m afraid. I have accepted it; I had no alternative,” she said sadly.

“You are very brave. Courage is a quality I supremely admire.”

“Thank you, Mr. Savage. Lord Lamb has suffered such a deep loss, however, he is still withdrawn. Twins are bonded closer than other siblings, and it will be a long time before Anthony is back to normal, I’m afraid. He asks not to be disturbed today.”

“Lady Randolph, it sounds like he is already disturbed. I am most anxious to meet him, now more than ever.”

“Do you think that wise, Mr. Savage?” Roz asked, hoping to keep him from pressing the point. She hoped in vain.

“I do think it wise. He has been without the strong guidance of a father for too many years, in my opinion. It is wrong to leave him alone in his grief. This place is so isolated, he may never shake off the melancholy. Something or someone must fill the void. I believe I can help do that. He should be kept busy, don’t you agree?”

How could she honestly argue with such logic? She wanted to protect Antonia, but at the same time she knew instinctively that Adam Savage was a positive force who would not be denied. Moreover, he had a strength that they could all draw upon.

“With your permission I shall go up and have a quiet word with him.” It was not a question. His gaze was so direct, it had a mesmerizing effect upon her. He was a man whom Roz found impossible to deny.

When Antonia heard a knock upon the door she assumed it was Mr. Burke come to tell her the coast was clear. “Come in,” she called, then her eyes opened wide in disbelief at the swarthy man who entered the chamber. All her preconceived ideas of her guardian were washed away in an instant. In all her life she had never seen a being who looked like this one. First, he was larger than other men, filling the door frame with his powerful body and wide shoulders. His hair was the blue-black color of a raven’s wing and he had an abundance of it, clubbed back and falling below his shoulders. His face was tanned a deep mahogany and in startling contrast his eyes were a light, piercing blue.

A scar cut into his face from one nostril down through his top lip, but it did not detract in any way from his appearance. Instead it bestowed upon him a fatal attraction. He looked as if he came from another world, which indeed he had, but he looked more alien than that. He looked like a god who had just stepped down from Olympus.

Adam Savage’s preconceived ideas of Anthony Lamb were instantly erased. The tall, slim boy who jumped up in
alarm looked so unmanly, so much younger than his near seventeen years, Adam felt deep disappointment.

“Tony? I’m Adam—Adam Savage. I’m so very sorry for your loss.” He saw the boy’s dreamy eyes fill with tears and knew it was a time for strengthening words. “I know how close you were to your twin, but if your sister could see you now, she would vigorously protest your falling into a decline over her. I am a blunt man, so I shall be plain with you. I have learned that Death is a part of life and must be accepted. In my experience the sooner the better. There are many ways to deal with your situation, some of them healthy, some of them decidedly unhealthy. My advice is to put up a brave front. When you think of your twin, think of the happy times you shared. And from now on be determined to live life to the fullest. It is incumbent upon you now to live for two, don’t you think?”

Antonia was furious. How dare he walk in uninvited and issue his orders? It was all so cut and dried to him. Her twin was dead and so she must get on with life. Tears clung to her long, dark lashes, clumping them into spikes as she looked deeply into his ice-blue eyes. She thought him the coldest, most cutting human being she had ever met. Well, if he liked plain speech, she would accommodate him.

“I was prepared to hate you,” Tony said bluntly, “but hatred is such an alien emotion to me, I find I cannot do it.” Tony stuffed her hands into her trouser pockets. “I shall have to settle for detesting you instead.”

“Oh, do try to hate me. It is such a strong, manly emotion, it will give you a little backbone,” Savage said cuttingly.
Christ, he’s too pretty to piss,
Adam thought angrily. Tony Lamb was a prime example of the unfairness of life. The spoiled youth had not only been born to privilege and a title, but the gods had seen fit to gift him with exceptional beauty. Adam felt a stab of remorse at his unworthy thoughts. Because his own face was ruined didn’t give him
the right to resent this lad simply because he had perfect features. He sighed. “Let’s try to endure each other.”