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

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

“H ow is your siege on Castle Averil, dear boy? Brought in the big guns yet? Breached her walls, eh?” James was attempting to be jovial but his face had a worried look.

Rufus narrowed his eyes. “There is no siege, uncle. I am helping Averil with her missing sister.”

James bit back a sigh. “What is it about this woman, nephew? I don’t understand why you’re not going in there, all guns blazing. I remember you when you first went on the town, Rufus. You were always able to twist the ladies around your little finger. What about that rather pretty little dancer you kept tucked away for a month or two? You were the envy of London. Why are you suddenly tiptoeing about?”

Rufus raised an eyebrow. “I’m not tiptoeing about, and Averil is not a dancer. She is a proper young lady.”

“All the better! You need a proper young lady for a wife, Rufus. Preferably a rich, proper, and beautiful young lady. Averil is the perfect choice. She can return you to the social hierarchy the earls of Southbrook were born to inhabit.”

“I’m quite happy with my life as it is, James,” Rufus lied.

“That may be so, Rufus, although I don’t believe it for a moment,” James replied drolly, “but Eustace will need to be introduced into society as he grows older.”

Averil had said something like that to him, Rufus remembered, but he’d preferred not to hear it. Anyway, at the time, she’d been trying to “save” him and he’d taken exception.

James had been watching him, probably looking for some hopeful sign. “Rufus,” he sighed, “if you don’t snap up this amazing girl then someone else will.”

“Leave it, Uncle James,” Rufus growled.

But James didn’t seem to know when to stop. “I want to see you happy, my boy.”

Rufus shot him a look. “You mean you want to see me happy so you won’t feel so guilty about being happy yourself. I’ve seen the way you look at the dragon companion.”

“I might have thought she was a dragon before I met her, but Beth is the sweetest woman.” James appeared quite flustered. “I think I’m in love, Rufus.”

Rufus shook his head in disgust and walked out of the room.

Upstairs Gregson was laying out his evening clothes. The valet opened his mouth, caught sight of Rufus’s face, and closed it again.

Good, thought Rufus. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He knew he was being childish, and James was right, marrying Averil was the perfect solution to their problems, but there was a solid lump of obstinacy inside him that he was finding it difficult to get over. Rufus knew he was no saint, far from it, and he’d done things he wasn’t particularly proud of, but with Averil he wanted to be better. Those beautiful grey eyes looking into his, sometimes with a lurking smile and at others with a flash of temper, but always with honesty. The thought of their expression changing to disgust and revulsion . . . well, it was not something he wanted to imagine.

If he’d met her somewhere else, a place where he wasn’t the wicked earl and she wasn’t a wealthy heiress, somewhere where things were less complicated, then he’d have pursued her relentlessly. Because he wanted her. Wanted her in a way he had not felt before, ever.

“My lord?”

Gregson had worked up the courage to speak to him. He gave the man an impatient stare.

“I-I wondered if you’d spoken to Lady Averil about her mother and Percival Arnutt?”

Rufus stripped off his jacket and tossed it aside. Gregson clicked his tongue at the mistreatment of the article, and hurried to pick it up.

“Yes, I did speak to her.”

“I’ve remembered something else that my brother told me.” Gregson gave him a doubtful glance. “But perhaps you don’t want to hear it right now, my lord.”

Rufus had removed his shirt now. The scar on his chest, the matching fellow to the one on his face, stood out against his warm skin. It ran down from his shoulder and across his ribs, ending just below his hip. A bit more force and the slash might have continued down to his groin.

Perhaps that would have served him right.

“What else did your brother tell you?” Rufus said gruffly, pushing away the unpleasant memory.

“He said that the Arnutts did look for the child. Percival’s child. Not long after Percival died. They had a change of heart. They sought out Lady Anastasia.”

Rufus allowed his valet to help him on with the clean shirt. “Did they? And?”

Gregson laid out some waistcoats and Rufus pointed impatiently at one. He was not in the mood for fine dressing. He planned to go to one of the salons in the seedier part of London, ask a few questions, and see where they led him. He might be out all night.

“She refused, my lord. She said she would never let them have Percival’s child, that it was all she had left of him. And then, later, when she was dead too, they went back again. The child seemed to have vanished into thin air.”

Rufus allowed his valet to tie his cravat. “That’s interesting, Gregson. Thank you. So the little girl went missing early in the piece. Did someone want to be rid of her, or did someone want to keep her hidden? And if she wasn’t taken to St. Thomas’s orphanage then where was she taken?”

Gregson made a sound that could have meant anything.

“Is Eustace in bed? And James?”

“Yes, my lord. Both of them safe and sound.”

“Good. See if you can keep it that way.”

It had been raining and there was a rather large puddle on the floor of the marble entrance hall. Rufus sighed as he went by. The roof needed mending, as well as numerous other parts of the town house, but it was no use worrying about them now.

He had work to do.

* * *

“Averil?”

Averil looked up from the desk. Secreting herself in the office at the Home had offered her some peace and quiet this morning, but now Gareth had found her. She sighed and then forced a welcoming smile as he stomped into the room and closed the door. She noticed he had dark circles under his eyes and he looked as if he’d hardly slept.

“Gareth?”

He slumped down into a chair.

Averil’s troubles were forgotten and she was just about to ask if another girl had gone missing, when Gareth spoke.

“The baroness told me last night that she wouldn’t marry me if I crawled all the way from Land’s End to John O’Groats on my knees.”

“Oh. So the wedding is off then? Was she very angry?”

“Furious. I am to move out of her Bloomsbury House today. I wondered”— and he glanced up at her with an expression that reminded her of Hercules when he wanted a walk—“could I stay at your house, just until I find somewhere else? I’d move into one of the rooms here, at the Home, but somehow that doesn’t seem proper. There’d be sure to be gossip. More gossip,” he groaned.

Averil nodded. “I think that is very wise, Gareth. And yes, you can stay with me. Just until you find somewhere else.”

He looked relieved. “I’ve been a fool,” he said quietly. “I thought the end justified the means, but it doesn’t, does it? One must be so careful in one’s dealings with other people, Averil. I’m beginning to think I’m not very good at it.”

Averil opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of Jackson, and his trustworthiness, but Gareth looked so downhearted, it didn’t seem fair to burden him with any more problems right now.

“The baroness said something . . . Well, to be fair, she was very angry. But she said something about you and Lord Southbrook.” His cheeks colored. Averil could imagine what that conversation had been about.

“I’m sure she did,” she said wryly, and waited for the lec-ture she was sure must now be forthcoming.

But Gareth surprised her. “You’re nothing like your mother,” he said. “I only met her once, but she was the sort of woman who couldn’t keep still. She had a nervous energy. Always moving, always talking, while you’re so restful, Averil. So calm.”

Surprised and touched, Averil smiled. “Am I? I have a temper, as you know, but that’s a very nice thing for you to say. Gareth, did you ever hear anything about the child? My sister?”

He shook his head. “The family closed ranks around your father once Anastasia was gone. If they knew I never heard. I’m sorry, Averil, I know how much this means to you. You should keep on with your search.”

“I will. Thank you. And Gareth, I’m sure the gossip will blow over. Eventually. For what it’s worth, I believe you did the right thing. To marry someone you don’t love or respect . . . I can’t imagine it.”

Gareth left her alone again and Averil sat, staring into space. Things were a mess but Gareth was right, she should keep looking. And with Rufus’s help, she would.

She couldn’t help smiling as she remembered him leaning forward in the coach to kiss her lips, and the exquisite feelings he’d drawn from her. Would he kiss her again? She was tingling all over just thinking about it. Oh yes, she really hoped the wicked earl would kiss her again.