Four Dukes And A Devil Part 25

The dowager placed her hand over her heart. "Oh, thank heavens. You've news of them?"

The hulking gentleman behind them moved with the speed and lethal silence of a jungle cat. "Where is she?"

"And who are you, sir?" John perused the form of the giant with all the hauteur his station permitted.

"Where is she?" he demanded again.

"You must be Miss Givan's very very good friend. No thanks to you, she is comfortably ensconced in one of the chambers above. The boys are here, too." good friend. No thanks to you, she is comfortably ensconced in one of the chambers above. The boys are here, too."

The man exhaled roughly, his hand rubbing his brow. "I don't know what you're suggesting, Beaufort. But I am that grateful to you, I don't really care." The man eased back a step when John stepped forward. "I must say though, I can't like your tone, but, yes, I am her very very good friend. That's why I'm here. Her welfare is my responsibility." good friend. That's why I'm here. Her welfare is my responsibility."

John couldn't keep the edge of anger from his bark. "You are her benefactor benefactor, you blackguard . ."

The Duke of Helston and the diminutive dowager were looking at him as if he'd lost his wits.

"Uh, no, actually. Vic's Vic's benefactor is the Countess of Sheffield, soon to be-" benefactor is the Countess of Sheffield, soon to be-"

At the sound of the nickname Victoria refused to allow him to use, he erupted. "You're the one who knows her as Vic Vic? By G.o.d, I shall wash the floor with-"

"Much as I would enjoy watching some other fool take on my friend friend here," Helston interrupted abruptly, "I feel dukes should stand by one another. It's the natural order of things. I'm sorry Wallace, but I must-" here," Helston interrupted abruptly, "I feel dukes should stand by one another. It's the natural order of things. I'm sorry Wallace, but I must-"

"Wallace?" John interrupted, incredulous. "You're Wallace?" Wallace?"

The dowager piped up. "Yes, so sorry. Thought you'd been introduced. He's the long-lost earl you've probably recently heard tell about-that is if you follow the gossip columns, which you should since they particularly like to report about you often enough." The dowager smiled, a pert little V of a smile. "Monstrously tall, isn't he? Don't know how the countess manages to bully him as well as she does."

Wallace smiled. "Ata, you know Grace has never bullied a fly in her entire life. She shames us all into doing the proper thing with her impeccable manners, her unsurpa.s.sed charm, her-"

"Wallace," Helston cut in with obvious boredom. "It's not at all the thing to be so obviously in love with your fiancee."

The dowager turned on her grandson. "A clear case of the pot calling the kettle-"

"Ata..." Helston growled. "Oh, do let's get on with it. It's almost full dark, and we should see Miss Givan, then get out of Beaufort's little hovel here. I'm famished."

John nodded almost imperceptibly to the footman hovering in the doorway, and the man undertook his bidding to arrange for the needs of their new guests without a word. And then suddenly, the ethereal beauty of the Countess of Sheffield glimmered from the hall. She walked quickly inside, forwent the courtesy of a curtsy, and went to Wallace's side. The man's attention was exclusively drawn to her, and he urged, "What is it, sweetheart?"

Her blue eyes darted to John, a worried question lurking there. "She's left."

John started. "Left?"

She searched his face, a hint of distrust in evidence. "One of your maids directed me to the ladies withdrawing, and when I asked, she explained that Victoria was indeed here. I took the liberty of going to her chamber, and I found..."

"What did you find, sweetheart?" Wallace asked softly.

"Knotted sheets from the window."

John could not make his feet move. "Knotted sheets? Why, the little..."

Wallace's eyes narrowed. "Little what, Beaufort? What have you done to her? I shall strangle you with those sheets until you cough up an offer if you've compromised her. This is the most gothic story I've ever heard. Straight from the pages of-"

"The Canterbury Tales, Canterbury Tales," John finished. "Yes, I do believe I'm going to burn that book, if I find her. But never fear, Wallace, I'm marrying her. Even if I have to cuff and drag her every inch of the way to Gretna Green."

Wallace noticeably relaxed and continued gruffly. "You may use my smithy's twitch twitch if you like. It's far superior to cuffs or rope ties." if you like. It's far superior to cuffs or rope ties."

The Countess of Sheffield's eyes softened. "Now dearest, do not give him any ideas."

"I suppose you're right, my love. But he has just voluntarily committed himself to a lifetime with Victoria. And while I adore her with every inch of my heart, she is, well, even you must admit, Grace-Victoria can be a challenge, challenge, at times. A wonderful, infuriating-" at times. A wonderful, infuriating-"

"I would suggest you stop while you're ahead, Wallace," John said stiffly. "You are speaking of the soon-to-be d.u.c.h.ess of Beaufort. And while I may refer to my future wife as I see fit, you, on the other hand-"

Helston's brows had almost reached his hairline. He recovered and quickly stepped between them. "Enough. Enough Enough. Is there no brandy to be had in this hut of yours, Beaufort?"

"Oh, this is the perfect reason to write again to dear Mr. Brown in Scotland." The dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Helston laughed. "Luc, do you think this might roust him from his ill will toward me?"

"For G.o.d sakes, Ata, allow Brownie the peace he has earned."

"But he loves weddings. Adores them. He'll never be able to withstand the temptation of attending now both Wallace's and and Beaufort's weddings to two ladies from my secret circle." Beaufort's weddings to two ladies from my secret circle."

"Funny," the duke replied dryly. "Brownie's never mentioned a particular fondness for such folly in the past. And since when did Miss Givan become part of your ridiculous club? She's not even a widow."

Ata blinked. "I've grown accustomed to your infernal Devil's rules. If I say Victoria doesn't need to be bereaved to be in my widows club, then so be it." The tiny dowager tilted up her nose and sniffed. "Well, I'm off to write to Mr. Brown, and you can't stop me."

The Countess of Sheffield bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Christ. My appet.i.te is ruined," the Duke of Helston said darkly. "There is far too much talk of weddings and happiness swirling about to my liking. When, I ask you, is tragedy to come back in style?"

Chapter Five

John had decided he would, indeed, borrow Wallace's twitch, if he ever found her.

They had searched every last mile of land separating them from the cottage near the abbey. Every dale, every hollow, every lane. She was not to be found, nor were the boys. She wasn't a fool. She'd somehow charmed one of the younger grooms into providing his services as a driver, along with two of John's best carriage horses and a simple four-wheeled dog cart. Yet none of them had returned.

He swore violently as he paced the ridge above his ma.s.sive stable-the best vantage point, and sufficiently removed from the great house to allow him to mouth every obscenity he could think of. He and the other two gentlemen had ridden all afternoon, all night, looking for her and the trio of boys. Helston and the earl didn't take her disappearance nearly as seriously as he did. And if he had had to endure their jibes another minute longer, he had thought he very well might give in to his desire to smash the dark humor from both of them. He had galloped away from them as dawn first streaked its tawny pink fingers across the horizon, their laughter floating behind him.

The sound of crickets whirred all 'round him, the sound deafening with the heat of day increasing.

Where was she?

A horse and rider appeared at the crest of the hill in front of him, and his heart pumped with renewed hope. But it was not she. The rider wore a top hat and breeches.

The man drew up and dismounted, his mare's shoulders showing a hint of lather.

Could his day grow any worse? Apparently. Apparently.

The earl swept an exaggerated bow. "Your Grace."

"Wymith," John gritted out. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" The imposing gentleman in his prime before him resembled his forebearer about as much as John did his own-that is, not one whit.

The earl retrieved something from a saddlebag flung across his horse's flanks and dropped two feathered shapes before him.

"What on earth?"

"I think she pilfered them from one of your great rooms. Miss Givan is a very, ahem, enterprising young lady, if I do say so."

John reached to clench his hands around the stuffed forms of a preserved wood duck and pheasant. "Careful, Wymith, she is my fiancee."

"Really," he drawled. "She didn't mention that."

"And what, pray tell, did she say to you?"

The other man studied him for a moment. "That we are both hardheaded beasts who refuse to see reason."

"Hmmm."

"She insisted I see past my objections to your very obvious desire to fatten your purses by way of this proposed eas.e.m.e.nt. Said we should both think to the betterment of the many people of this county who depend on us."

"Did she now?" he muttered.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And she said we should compromise and build the road and the mill half on my property and half on yours, and arrange for the majority of the profits to go to the men who work there and to the ill and infirm of Derbys.h.i.+re." The earl examined his fingernails. "She also said that you had finally seen the error of your ways and those of your uncle before you-after she had fully explained in detail all of your faults-some of which, I am sorry to say, had little to do with hunting and trespa.s.sing but much to do with locks and keys."

He itched to strangle the managing little philanthropist with pockets to let.

The earl continued. "These two motheaten bits of fluff were the peace offering she insisted I accept from you. More importantly, she said I was invited to hunt in Beaulieu Park anytime I wished."

"Really?"

"She also insisted I was to condescend to wait upon you, here, as you wished to invite me to dine so we could discuss the building of the mill."

"I see."

He shrewdly stroked his jaw. "A most interesting choice, Beaufort. She has more pluck than most men."

"I know."

"Surprising how well you've done for yourself," he said. "Not much of a conversationalist, are you?"

"No."

"Well, that's fine by me. Hate chatter. Now, are you going to invite me to breakfast or not?"

"Of course." John continued without a hint of irony. "I'm delighted delighted you've come." you've come."

"Well," the earl said discomfited, "I don't know about you, but I'm not inclined to have to face her again without a signed agreement. Oh, and by the by, she said to tell you that she has removed to the cottage near the abbey, and..."

"Yes?"

Wymith licked his lips. "She said to give you this by way of a token of her appreciation and a formal good-bye." He tendered her battered volume of the Canterbury Tales. Canterbury Tales.

John gripped the book, his eyes challenging the earl to say another blasted word. After a decade of silence, John bowed, his eyes so tired it felt as if an ocean's worth of salt and sand resided under his lids, "I'm honored by your visit, Wymith. Do you know the Duke and Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Helston? Or the Countess of Sheffield and her fiance, the Earl of Wallace? No? Gentle folk Gentle folk...You shall enjoy their company. This way, now. Fancy kippers?"

Would she always know how to work on him? A part of him melted at what she had so brazenly accomplished. All that bad luck, all those horrid words...erased with such heaven-sent goodness and devil-made a.s.surance.

He had tried to go without them, but that blasted herd of Victoria's acquaintances would not be put off. The tension in the first of two carriages was as tight as the noose on a dead man. And they would not leave off of the subject of the snakebite once the physician had let it slip when he had come to call.

The Earl of Wallace's baritone rumbled within the close confines of the barouche. "British vipers are very rarely fatal, especially if you administer snakeroot or clivers. You didn't try to suck the poison out, did you? Only a fool would employ that barbaric practice."

John nearly lunged at the earl. The only thing that kept him in his seat was the fact that the cottage was around the next bend in the road.

"Your lips were on her ankle, Your Grace?" Ata's eyebrows lifted. "How very...intimate of you."

"I've already told you, Victoria and I are to be married."

Her Grace harrumphed. "Yes, well, it's obvious she refused you." She smiled knowingly. "Perhaps you didn't ask her in the correct fas.h.i.+on. Did you tell her she was the most beautiful creature alive? Did you tell her you couldn't live without her? Did you tell her you lo-"

"Ata," Helston said with a sigh. "Leave the poor sod be. I agreed to prop up his spirits and bear witness to his future responsib-ahem, happiness," he continued dryly, "but I did not agree to listen to more romantic folderol."

"Well, so few men know how to go about proposals properly. 'Tis the reason there are so many spinsters. Everyone knows unmarried ladies have a superior life over married females. Gentlemen have to use every last ounce of false charm to lull a lady's senses into acceptance."

"Ata," Luc growled louder.

"Not that we ever thought that in your case, dearest. I've always suspected you blackmailed or tricked Rosamunde into having you. You probably locked her in a room with naught but bread and broth until she promised to have you. Beaufort, on the other hand, would never never..." She batted her eyelashes.

John groaned at the same moment the carriage lurched to a full stop.

Victoria rubbed at a spot on the large table in the refurbished kitchen of the cottage, grateful she finally had a moment to herself. She really only had to find two last servants for this house of men and boys. A man and his wife had arrived without notice this morning, both in search of employment. Their letters of recommendation were exemplary, and Victoria had engaged them as manservant and housekeeper. There was only the cook to find, and a maid-of-all-work. The boys were now off with the architect's men, to the abbey.

Lost in her never-ending stream of thoughts regarding a certain not-to-be-borne duke, she looked up only to find the man who occupied her every thought standing before her.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "You've come."