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

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

R ufus was keen to find Jackson, and he soon had his chance. After a word with one of the lads, in the gang hanging around the streets, he set off down a narrow alleyway that ended in a filthy courtyard.

The house he wanted was narrow and leaning to one side, and when he banged on the door it was opened by an old woman with no teeth. “Wha’s a gen’leman wan’ ’ere?” she demanded, or at least that was what he thought she said.

“I’m looking for Jackson. I was told he was here.”

“Wha’ you wan’ ’im fer?”

“I have something to offer him that would be to his advantage,” Rufus said. And, when the woman looked blank, “Money, madam.”

“Ah.” She thought a moment, but the money swayed her as he’d hoped it would. “’E’s at the Soldier.”

“The Tin Soldier?”

But she’d already closed the door.

Jackson was not unknown to him. Rufus had made his acquaintance when he worked for The Guardians, and although he’d found the man useful on occasion he had never entirely trusted him. He wasn’t surprised he’d run off and left Averil in the lurch when he’d seen Rufus that night, because he was sure that was what must have happened. Jackson must have thought he was in trouble, or perhaps it was just a spontaneous reaction for someone who lived in the murky world he did.

So had Jackson something to hide? Just what was he up to these days?

Rufus meant to find out.

* * *

Averil was in the common room to help the women with their sewing. It was a task she did not relish. No one at the Home had a talent for sewing and all of them groaned whenever she appeared to take their lesson.

“Violet, will you help Molly with her petticoat?”

The latest task she had set them was to sew themselves a very plain petticoat. Not terribly exciting perhaps, but at least it would be of use to them when they started working. Or even if they didn’t. Averil had seen the state of the clothes some of them arrived in and she felt obliged to help.

Violet was giving her a sideways look, and although she did as she’d been asked, Averil had a feeling the girl did not take kindly to being told what to do. She might be sweet and biddable when Gareth was there but Averil had found the girl had another side to her where others were concerned. A rebellious streak.

Perhaps that was a good thing. A woman needed a bit of fire to survive in this world, and Violet appeared to have what survivors were made of.

Sometimes she wondered why Violet was here at all. Her work was not particularly well paid, and if she’d wanted to Averil was quite certain Violet could have found alternative employment far more to her liking. She was pretty and clever and quick to learn. Gareth had told her that Violet’s family wished her to come to the Home, although the reason he gave was vague in the extreme. When Averil attempted to question Violet about it, the girl said she wasn’t happy in her own home and she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Do you sew much at home?” Averil asked now, smiling at Violet to show she wasn’t being nosey, when she was.

“Not like this,” the girl said. “Darn sometimes, or mend sheets, but never make something from new, miss. My lady,” the correction was added a little grudgingly.

“I don’t mind being miss,” Averil assured her. Then, when Violet didn’t answer her, “Well, I think to be able to sew is a skill worth—”

“What was he doing here yesterday?” Violet cut her short. “The earl, I mean.”

“He plans to make a donation, and Doctor Simmons wanted to show him about,” Averil said, surprised by the question and the way it was delivered. “Why do you ask, Violet?”

Violet shrugged, her expression closed. “No reason, miss, I just wondered.”

“He’s a good-looking sod,” Molly said, with a sly look. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss.”

Averil frowned. “Molly, if Doctor Simmons were to hear you speaking like that he wouldn’t be at all pleased.”

“Noffink I say pleases Doctor Simmons,” Molly muttered.

Averil sighed. Making conversation was sometimes very difficult, and she was glad when her lesson was over and she was able to leave. Beth was at home, and she set off, expecting her home to be as quiet as usual, but when she walked in the door she was met by the sound of Hercules barking and a boy’s excited voice.

She wasn’t really surprised— Lord Southbrook had mentioned Eustace was planning a visit. Averil made her way toward the back of the house, and was nearly knocked down by an excited Hercules. He ran up to her and then turned and ran back toward Eustace, narrowly missing knocking over a small table with a large vase on it.

“Lady Averil.” Eustace was breathless. “Hercules can jump very high to catch a ball. Did you know?”

Behind him Beth appeared, her hair untidy and her face flushed, as if she had been trying to keep Hercules and her visitor calm. And failing.

“I did know, Eustace,” said Averil. “What are you doing here?”

Eustace looked uneasy. “I wanted to visit you,” he said, with a sly glance through long lashes. “I don’t have a dog in London, so I thought I’d play with yours. Do you mind?”

Averil knew she’d be fibbing if she scolded him. She didn’t mind. She liked Eustace and she thought he was lonely, and Hercules definitely needed exercise.

“Of course I don’t mind. And I’m sure Hercules is glad to see you. It’s just that your father will be worried, and I thought you promised him not to go off on your own again?”

He looked guilty, scuffing his feet. Hercules went and leaned against him, nearly knocking him over.

Averil smiled. “Why don’t you come and have something to eat and drink, and I will send a note around to your home to say you’re here and safe?”

Eustace thought that was a good idea, and chattered away as he followed Averil into the parlor.

For the next hour Beth was on the edge of her seat, worried he’d drop crumbs on the floor, but Averil enjoyed the in-formality of Eustace’s visit. It occurred to her that she didn’t often have visitors, and when she did it was Gareth on charity business, or acquaintances who were not really friends. There were her friends from the Husband Hunters Club but at the moment they all seemed busy with their own lives. By nature she was no social butterfly, and Eustace was a breath of fresh air.

“What do you do when you’re at home?” she asked him, sipping her tea, and trying not to notice when he slipped Hercules half a sandwich.

“In Mayfair, do you mean? I have a tutor who comes three days a week, and I’m supposed to do my own studies in between. Mostly I play with Freddie, the housekeeper’s boy. He knows all sorts of places to play belowstairs.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Beth murmured.

“When I’m at Southbrook Castle I have a tutor, too, and I go riding or play in the garden. Papa is mostly in London, or he was until . . .” He stopped, his face changing. Averil, watching him, could tell something had happened to upset him, but she didn’t feel she could probe. “Uncle James is good fun,” he ended the conversation by taking a huge bite of cake, while Hercules, watching, whimpered.

After they’d finished, Beth suggested he take Hercules out into the garden, and the two women watched him from the window.

“He’s a lonely boy,” Averil said. “He seems very isolated. I wonder why he hasn’t been sent away to school?”

“Perhaps his father prefers him to be taught at home? And the isolation might come from Lord Southbrook’s position in society. Or out of it. I imagine it would be difficult for the boy to form suitable friendships when his father is not received.”

Averil knew Beth was right, but she felt sorry for Eustace, and apart from that she liked him. His pale, narrow face was enough like his father’s to make her wonder if Lord Southbrook had been very like this as a child. He still had those ridiculously long eyelashes, just like his son’s.

“It’s a pity I can’t do something to help,” she murmured thoughtfully to herself.

“Averil.” Beth’s voice sounded a warning. “Please don’t interfere. Lord Southbrook and his family are really nothing to do with you.”

“I know,” Averil replied, with a wry smile, “and I know I mustn’t interfere, but I feel as if there must be something I can do for Eustace.”

Beth shook her head. “Look what happened when you offered to help Doctor Simmons with his charity? Next thing you were roped in to all manner of activities, and he treats you as if you were a slave. You should be going out to parties and balls and picnics. You should be enjoying yourself, Averil.”

Averil hadn’t heard Beth hold forth quite that bluntly before. “You don’t like Gareth very much, do you, Beth?”

Her companion looked guilty. “I’m sorry. I know you hoped—”

But Averil was quick to reassure her. “I understand. Actually, I’m not quite as impressed with Gareth as I used to be, either. I know he does his best, and his heart is in the right place, but sometimes . . . well, I think he has things all wrong where the distressed women are concerned.”

“And then there was Hercules,” Beth said. “I know you felt compelled to save him from his cruel owner, but he is rather big for our small house. I’m in a constant flap, Averil, wondering what you will try to save next.”

Averil didn’t know what she could say to that, but it turned out she didn’t have to say anything, because just then the knocker rattled on the front door. A moment later the maid came in to let them know that the Honorable James Blainey was hoping for a word.

“Oh dear,” Beth sighed, “more of Lord Southbrook’s family, I presume? Should we receive him?”

Averil smiled. “He’s probably come for Eustace.”

“Then we should definitely receive him.”

Averil glanced out of the window at Eustace, his face flushed, his hair wild, romping with the dog. He looked completely happy. Beth was right, she was always trying to save things. And people. Perhaps it had something to do with her mother abandoning her when she was a child. But if she could ease Eustace of some of his loneliness then she would. And if she could help his father back from the outer edges of society, then she’d do that, too.

* * *

The Tin Soldier was a different proposition by day. Grimy and dirty, paint peeling from the walls, and stinking of the night’s activities. The doors were firmly closed, but Rufus hammered on them until a sleepy-looking boy opened them.

“What you want, gov’ner?” he demanded. “We don’ open up till later.”

“I believe there’s a man called Jackson here,” Rufus said, placing his shoe in the gap between door and jamb to stop the boy closing it. “I need to see him.”

The boy’s eyes weren’t so sleepy now.

“I know he’s here,” Rufus said, and reaching into his pocket drew out some coins. “Let me in.”

The coins were gone in an instant and Rufus was standing in the room he remembered from several nights ago. For a moment, as he looked at the stairs, he could almost see Averil standing there, her fair hair tumbling down, her skirt torn and dirty, but her gray eyes clear and brave. Now that he thought of it, it was a brave thing to do, going to The Tin Soldier. Even taking part in the Home for Distressed Women was courageous behavior for a proper young lady. Averil Martindale was a brave girl and he admired her for it.

Just as well she was brave, Rufus thought. Because if he did marry her she would need all her courage to live at Southbrook Castle with his madcap family.

The thought made him curl his lip at his own dishonorable behavior. Could he really inveigle a woman like Averil into marrying him? Why would she say yes? She didn’t strike him as the sort of person who would say yes to anything without a very good reason.

That made him feel a little better. He’d ask and she’d refuse and then he’d be less of a dishonorable cad.

“Lord Southbrook?”

It wasn’t Averil coming down the stairs, it was Sally Jakes. She looked neat and bright, not as if she’d been up most of the night running the gambling house.

“Sally. I’m sorry to barge in but I wanted to see Jackson.”

She seemed to stiffen, but her smile didn’t leave her mouth. “Jackson?”

“Yes, Sally, Jackson. We both know who I mean.”

She sighed. “What’s ’e been up to now?”

“I won’t know until I see him.”

Sally came down the rest of the stairs and, with a shrug, led him toward the nether regions of the building. They descended some stairs and it grew gloomier.

“I know ’e can be a slippery one,” she said conversationally, “but ’e’s useful. I use ’im for errands, other little jobs I ’ave. He knows the East End like the back of ’is ’and.”

“Jackson and I are old friends,” Rufus offered. “You don’t need to worry.”

Sally turned to look at him, and then shrugged again. At the bottom of the stairs she pointed to a door. “’E’s in there. Probably still asleep,” she added, and then left him to it.

Rufus opened the door without knocking. Jackson lay on a narrow bed, the covers over his head, one boot sticking out the bottom. Obviously he didn’t bother with such niceties as undressing for sleep. Rufus suspected that was because Jackson never knew when he might have to make a run for it.

Rufus leaned against the door to prevent that happening. There were no windows, so he thought he was safe enough. He cleared his throat. Loudly.

The bedclothes stirred, and then a head lifted and bleary eyes peered at him. The eyes widened and Jackson shot out of the bed like a bullet from a gun, and then promptly fell onto the floor as his boots caught in the covers.

“Lord Southbrook,” he said, his voice a squeak. “What a pleasure this is, sir.” He blinked. “You’re looking well.”

Jackson was one of the most ugly men Rufus had ever seen, but there was something about his ugliness that made you trust him. What you saw was what you got. Except it wasn’t. Jackson was also a slippery, lying manipulator and the thought of him having anything to do with Averil was intolerable.

“You were with Lady Averil Martindale the other night, weren’t you?”

Jackson licked his lips.

“Don’t try and lie. I saw you there. And I saw you run off when you saw me. You left her all alone, Jackson. You do realize that? A gently reared young lady all alone in the stews.”

Jackson shrugged. “I’m sorry. I went round the next day to say I was sorry, but her old biddy companion wouldn’t let me in. That night . . . I saw you and I panicked.”

Rufus waited a beat. “Why did you panic? I’m no longer a Guardian. And even when I was you didn’t do much to help me. You were more of a liability.”

Jackson managed to look hurt. “Don’t say that. I brought you some good information, sir. I risked life and limb for you.”

Rufus laughed. “Jackson, you would never risk anything for anyone. All you care about is Jackson. You panicked because you are up to mischief. Now, I’m warning you, stay away from Lady Averil.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “I’m helping her with finding her sister.”

“No, you’re not. Not anymore. I’m helping her.”

After a moment of considering this, Jackson shrugged, but there was something sly in his face that made Rufus wonder if this was really the end of the matter.

“I hear you do some little jobs for Doctor Simmons, too. I hope you aren’t fleecing that gentleman, Jackson.”

“Nah, he pays the going rate. Now can I get back to sleep? If you’re finished with me, that is? I was up until the church clock struck five.”

There didn’t seem much point in staying any longer and Rufus left him to it. But as he walked back up the stairs the stirring of unease returned, a prickling that warned him something wasn’t right. Jackson and Sally, neither of them were to be trusted. There was something going on, and even though he was no longer a Guardian, Rufus knew he wouldn’t be happy until he found out what it was.