Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress (The Husband Hunters Club 5)

“But why send you here? I don’t understand.”

Violet wiped her hands on her apron. She looked as if she’d rather not say. “They—Sally and Jackson, that is—wanted to give their women some shine. Make out they were ladies, or something close. I was supposed to be watching out, in case someone found out the truth, but I hated it.”

She looked up at Averil and her eyes were alight with anger.

“Oh, Violet, why didn’t you tell me?”

“How could I? I wanted to, but . . .” Violet sighed.

“Well, it’s over now,” Averil said softly.

“Yes,” Violet said, but there was sadness in the droop of her mouth and Averil knew it wasn’t really over for the girl. Not yet.

“Violet is a brave young lady,” Gareth said admiringly, when Averil had explained everything to him.

“Yes, she is.” Averil glanced at him sideways.

“Averil,” he said, catching her look, “I have learnt my lesson, I promise you. Never again will I single out any woman.”

“I hope that isn’t true, Gareth. One day you will find someone you want to single out, someone special, someone you love with all your heart.”

She turned away. She knew she’d sounded emotional, but she hoped Gareth would think it was because of the turmoil she’d been through at The Tin Soldier. She didn’t want to confess the truth. That she was just as foolish as Gareth, perhaps more so, because she loved a man who wanted her for her money, and if they hadn’t been interrupted she would have told him so.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

* * *

Beth was finding her days dragging. Before she met James Blainey everything had gone along very nicely, with visits to the opera and the theater at night, and her days busy with Averil and the house, and the occasional shopping trip. She would wake every morning, filled with anticipation and looking forward to the hours stretching before her.

Not anymore. Now her days seemed very long. The minutes ticked by so slowly, and no matter how often she glanced at the clock, it did not move any faster.

Averil was keeping herself busy at the Home, but Beth had nothing like that to throw herself into. She had nothing to occupy her that would take her mind off James Blainey. The truth was, she missed him dreadfully and some mornings she lay in her bed, staring at the window, and thinking that she might just catch the mail coach north and tell him she would marry him after all.

But then all the other doubts would come crashing in, making her head ache. How could she marry James? Averil deserved her loyalty. Averil had been wronged. Beth could hardly run off and marry one of the men responsible for her current situation. Did she really want to alienate the girl who was more like her daughter than her charge? Was any amount of personal happiness worth that? Surely it would be a selfish act to marry James?

In the end she would get up out of bed and carry on with her day as if everything was the same as normal, but it was far, far from that. Her life was slipping by and the love she had miraculously found after all these years was slipping away with it. She had told James she would not marry him, but she felt in a sort of limbo, as if the decision was still waiting to be made.

“Miss Harmon?”

Beth looked up. She was engaged in the exciting task of sorting linen and had the parlor cluttered with various bits and pieces, laid out around her as she inspected them for wear and tear.

The maid chewed her lip, as if she was worried the news she had to impart wouldn’t be welcome. “The Honorable James Blainey is here to see you. I know you said you weren’t home to callers, but when I tried to tell him you weren’t receiving he became quite agitated and insisted I ask you anyway.”

James! The usual calm and unflappable Beth was thrown into an agony of indecision. She wanted to run to the door and fling herself into his arms and at the same time she knew she must refuse to let him inside. She could not see him. Could she? While she was vacillating, James barged into the room behind the maid.

He looked thinner, his clothing was creased and his hair was unbrushed, and there were shadows under his eyes, which looked rather wild. No wonder the maid had refused him entry. James had the appearance of someone who had escaped from Bedlam.

“My dearest Beth,” he cried, taking her hands, “I beg you not to tell me to go until you’ve heard me out.”

Beth wavered, but he looked so desperate, so earnest, she didn’t have the heart to send him away. And besides, the touch of his hands in hers, the physical presence of him, made her feel like a wilting flower that had suddenly been given a lifesaving drink of water.

“Dearest Beth,” he said, as the goggling maid shut the door, “I know you told me you couldn’t marry me, but I had to see you. To ask you again. There were things I needed to tell you. You’ve no idea how utterly miserable I’ve been, Beth! I haven’t had the slightest urge to take up the cards, and for me . . . well, it’s a first.”

“James—” Beth tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t allow it. He’d set himself to say his piece and nothing was going to stop him.

“I know I behaved appallingly. I see that now

. But sometimes, dear heart, I speak before my brain catches up with my mouth. And besides, it seemed such a good idea, Averil marrying Rufus. We are desperate, my dear, absolutely at rock bottom, and Rufus is too much of a gentleman to think of such a thing for himself. And the dear boy is so lonely and unhappy, and when I saw them together that night, when I saw the way they were looking at each other, I thought it was the perfect chance for Rufus to find the happiness he deserves. Two birds with one stone.”