Swept Away Page 2

Phoebe gazed at her doubtfully. “Do you think that will work on a man like Lord Stonehaven?”

  “I am certain of it. Look—” she sat down on the floor beside Phoebe’s chair and eagerly explained “—there are two things I learned from following Lord Stonehaven these past three weeks. One was that taking him by force simply will not work. I did not know the man. I assumed that someone who did as foul a thing as he did to Selby would be too cowardly to even resist us. But physically he is strong and, I must admit, quite brave. He did not run from two men, instead he stayed and defeated them!” She could not keep a tinge of admiration from seeping into her voice. “Even tonight, when we were in the carriage and running away, he came after us—knowing that there were three of us. But—” she paused significantly “—the other thing that I discovered about him is that Lord Stonehaven is very fond of women.”

  “A roué?”

  Julia shrugged. “I don’t know that I would go as far as that. He doesn’t seem to pursue innocent maidens. I have only seen him with sophisticated ladies and, uh, well, women of a certain sort.”

  “Oh, Julia…” Phoebe moaned.

  “But don’t you see? That will work to our advantage!” Julia cried. “The man has a weakness, and it is women. That is why I realized that if I could get close to him, talk to him, I could worm the truth out of him. Why, you yourself have told me that it is when a man is pursuing a woman that he is most vulnerable, the most eager to please. Doesn’t it follow that that is when he will be the most likely to tell me what I want to know?”

  “I don’t know.” Phoebe looked uncertain. It seemed to her that Selby had been at his most vulnerable after they had made love, but she certainly could not reveal something like that to his sister!

  “I have found with my suitors that they are amazingly eager to talk, especially about themselves and how clever they are and what great things they have done. They want to impress me. I suspect that Lord Stonehaven is the same way.”

  “Perhaps so, but, Julia, I think that you are getting in over your head. You haven’t even made your debut, and Lord Stonehaven is a wealthy man who has been on the town for some years. I am sure he is in his thirties.”

  Julia raised her eyebrows and stood up, putting a hurt look on her face. “Are you saying that you do not think I can attract a sophisticated man like Lord Stonehaven? That only those who live in a little town like Whitley are drawn to me?”

  Her gentle sister-in-law looked horrified, as Julia had known she would, and she forgot her questions for a moment in a storm of anxiety. “Oh, no, I did not mean that! Dearest Julia, you must know that I would never think you could not attract any man you wish. You are the most beautiful woman I know. Not just in Kent—I am sure that if you had had a Season in London, you would have outshone all the other debutantes.”

  Julia smiled. She had not really had any qualms about her ability to attract a man, sophisticated or not. She had merely wanted to distract Phoebe from her worries. Julia Armiger had been assured that she was a beauty from the time she was old enough to toddle. The eager pursuit of her since she was sixteen by every gentleman within the vicinity of their country house had done nothing to disabuse her of the notion. Indeed, looking in the mirror each day was reassurance enough of that. Her figure was tall, slender and high-breasted, the perfect body for the high-waisted, soft, flowing styles that were currently popular. Her hair was a rich auburn, thick and inviting, and her eyes were a vibrant blue, accented by thick lashes. Everything about her face, from her creamy white complexion to the narrow arch of her dark brown brows to the sweet curve of her full lower lip, all combined to create a perfection that would perhaps have been cold if it had not been for the warmth of her smile and the pert little dimple that often creased her cheek.

  Julia was not vain about her beauty. She accepted it as a fact, just as she accepted that she could handle a horse or read a book. Her beauty, she had found, meant a great deal more to others than it did to her. Indeed, there had been times when it had been a trial, when she had wished when conversing with a man that he could talk to her about something more interesting than the quality of her skin or the brightness of her eyes. It seemed to her that, in choosing a wife, it would be more important to find a pleasing personality such as Phoebe had than great beauty.

  “Do you forgive me, dear Julia?” Phoebe asked with some anxiety, and Julia bent to give her a reassuring hug.

  “Of course. I was merely teasing you. You have paid me compliments often enough to turn my head, I assure you.”

  Phoebe smiled and relaxed. “Good. What I meant to say was that Lord Stonehaven has had far more experience than you. I am sure that he will admire you the moment he sees you, but it is what he might do that worries me. You intend only to tease him, but he is a dangerous man. An unscrupulous one! Think what he did to Selby, who had been his friend for years. What if you arouse him, and he—he does not behave like a gentleman? What if he—” She lowered her voice. “What if he forces you?”

  “I may not have made my Season, but I have had some experience with men. I do not think the ones in Kent are that different from other men. I have always been able to handle my suitors, including the one or two who made less-than-gentlemanly overtures to me.”

  Phoebe’s eyes widened. “No! They did? Who?”

  Julia chuckled. “Squire Buntwell, for one.”

  “Squire Buntwell! That old pudding!” Phoebe exclaimed indignantly. “What would he think a woman like you would want with him? Why, he’s fifty if he’s a day, and married, besides.”

  “I don’t think he was overly concerned with what I wanted, only with what he wanted. Anyway, I made it clear to him that he should look elsewhere for his satisfaction.” Julia’s eyes twinkled with laughter as she recalled the incident.

  “What did you do?”

  “I stamped hard on his instep and punched him in that fat stomach. And while he was doubled over, trying to catch his breath, I told him that if he ever tried it again, I would tell his wife, the pastor and all the gossips in the county. He would be a laughingstock. I think he saw my point.”

  Phoebe giggled. “I am sure he did. But I don’t think that would necessarily work with a man like Stonehaven.”

  “Perhaps not. However, I can carry Selby’s detonator with me,” Julia said, naming the small pocket-size pistol in her brother’s collection. “I would think that a man’s ardor decreases dramatically when he’s staring down the barrel of a firearm.”

  “Julia!” Phoebe looked shocked, but could not keep from bursting into laughter.

  At that moment they were interrupted by the tumultuous entrance of a six-year-old boy.

  “Mama! Mama! Oh, Auntie, there you are. I was looking everywhere for you. Look what I got!” He held out one grubby hand, palm up, to reveal a prize he knew would be far more appreciated by his aunt than his loving, but strangely squeamish, mother.

  “A caterpillar!” Julia cried, echoed somewhat less enthusiastically by Phoebe, and bent down to look at the prize in the boy’s hand. “Wonderful, Gilbert! You didn’t squash it a bit, either.”

  Gilbert nodded proudly. “I know. I ’membered what you said, how the green juice was like blood to him, so I didn’t squeeze him.”

  “Good lad.”

  “Could I keep him?” He looked over at his mother. “Please?”

  Phoebe smiled at the boy. Sturdily built, he had an angelic face, with her own light blue eyes and sweet smile, but Selby’s strong chin and jaw. A cloud of bright red-gold curls added to the illusion of a cherub. Phoebe, while she might not share her son’s fondness for worms, snakes and caterpillars, rarely could deny him anything.

  “Of course you can, sweetheart. Just make sure to put him in a container, though, or he might frighten the maids.”

  “Get Nurse to find a jar for you,” Julia instructed. “And remember, put holes in the top, and a twig and some leaves inside for him.”

  Gilbert nodded and bounced out of the room to show his prize to hi
s nurse. Phoebe looked after him with a sigh, her eyes filling with tears. Gilbert, only three years old when his father died, could not even remember Selby. “If only Selby had lived to see him grow up.”

  Her wistful words hardened Julia’s resolve. “And he would have lived to see him—if Stonehaven had not hounded him to death. Phoebe, I have to make Stonehaven reveal the truth, don’t you see?”

  Phoebe nodded. “I know.”

  “If I do nothing, Gilbert will always have to live under the shadow of the scandal. He’ll hear the whispers. People will turn away from him, refuse to meet him or issue him an invitation.” She paused, not adding, “The way they have us.” But Phoebe knew that truth as well as she.

  The scandal surrounding Selby and his death had sealed Julia and Phoebe off from “polite society.” Phoebe no longer went to London for the Season. Julia, who had not yet made her debut, had accepted that she never would. The blot on the family name was too great. Even in the small circle of their country acquaintances, there had been those who had cut them. Wherever they went, even church, they saw people whispering and staring. When they had moved to the Armiger London house a few weeks ago, more than one Society matron had looked the other way when she saw them. The memory of the ton was very long.

  “No,” Phoebe whispered fiercely. Normally sweet-tempered, a threat to her beloved child was enough to turn her into a fiery avenger. “That cannot happen to Gilbert. We must not let it.” She looked up into her sister-in-law’s vivid blue eyes, and her jaw hardened with determination. “You are right. I was being weak. Of course we must continue to try to prove Selby’s innocence. You do what you must. Whatever it takes.”

  Julia grinned. “I knew you would stand firm, Phoebe.” For all her gentle nature and her worries about impropriety, Phoebe alone out of everyone they knew had believed as firmly as Julia herself that Selby was innocent of the accusations and had been as determined to prove it.

  Phoebe gave her a quick smile and picked up her sewing again. Then she stopped and looked up questioningly. “But, Julie, dear…how are you going to meet Lord Stonehaven? We don’t go out in Society. Indeed, I am sure that we would not be received even if we tried.”

  “No. That is a problem.” Julia did not deem it necessary to tell Phoebe that the kind of woman that she planned to be for Lord Stonehaven would not be one he would meet at Society fetes. It was better if Phoebe did not know quite all the details. “But I’ve been thinking—I believe I can get help from Cousin Geoffrey.”

  “Geoffrey Pemberton?” Phoebe’s face cleared, and she smiled. “That’s good. He is a most elegant gentleman, so courteous. I am sure he will know just what to do.”

  “No doubt.” Julia did not tell her that she was not seeking her cousin’s advice in the matter, merely his aid in executing her own scheme. She knew exactly how she intended to meet and interest Stonehaven. It was unfortunate that it required the help of some willing male. She was sure that Phoebe would have been alarmed to know that she was seeking out her cousin’s help because he was the least shockable gentleman she knew, and also the laziest. If she kept after him long enough, Geoffrey would eventually give in rather than expend the effort of arguing.

  “But, Julia, don’t you think that Lord Stonehaven will be suspicious of your motives, no matter how he meets you? I mean, your being Selby’s sister.”

  Julia smiled in a way that Phoebe found a little blood-chilling and said, “Ah, but, you see, I am not going to be me.”

  Julia found her cousin alone in his apartments later that afternoon. She had wisely waited until after three to give him time to awaken, eat and get properly dressed for the day, all three occupations that required a great deal of time. When his man ushered Julia into the drawing room, bowing and intoning her name, Cousin Geoffrey looked up at her with a startled stare that reminded her forcibly of a doe spotting a hunter.

  “Cousin Julia!” he exclaimed, rising politely and casting a quick, nervous glance around. “What are you doing here?”

  “No way to escape, Cuz,” Julia responded cheerfully, coming forward to offer her hand. “Please, sit down. Surely we needn’t stand on ceremony.”

  “No. No, of course not. Escape, indeed!” He offered a faint laugh. “As if I did not enjoy your visits to the utmost.”

  Julia chuckled. “Don’t lie to me, Cousin. I remember quite well when you told me that you found my visits wearing in the extreme.”

  Her cousin smiled languidly. He was a nice-looking man—a trifle plumpish around the waist, but he hid it well with waistcoats, and he boasted a nice turn of leg. Being related to them on their mother’s side, he had escaped the red hair that plagued the Armigers. Selby had often despaired of his bright carrottop hair and easily burned white skin, but Geoffrey’s hair was brown, as were his eyes, and he had a most charming smile. He dressed in the height of fashion, but never to the extremes, for he said that he found keeping up with the latest fads much too taxing. His taste was elegant, as Phoebe had said. His furnishings, like his clothes, were exquisite; his wines were always the best; and if there was a cook better than his, he would not rest until he had hunted him down—in his own lazy fashion, of course—and lured him away from his present employer. Being endowed with enough money to satisfy his expensive tastes and to ensure that he would never have to exert himself, he was a content man.

  “My dearest Julia, you know that I am quite fond of you….”

  “In your own way,” she interjected, smiling.

  “Yes, of course. While it is true that I am a little—shall we say, wary?—of these odd paroxysms of energy that seize you at times, in general you are one of my preferred relatives.”

  “Given the way you feel about most of your relatives, I am not sure how much of a compliment that is.”

  “I was taken aback, though, to find you visiting me here. For one thing, it isn’t exactly done, you know, calling on a man in his bachelor quarters.”

  “What else should I do?” Julia replied pragmatically. “I wanted to see you.”

  “A little note dropped by to let me know you were in the city—that’s the ticket. I was quite unaware of your presence, or I would have called.”

  Julia dismissed the niceties of proper behavior with a shrug. “Phoebe and I came up a few weeks ago.”

  “Ah, the fair Phoebe.” Another smile creased his face. “How is that lovely creature?”

  “As kind and sweet and motherly as ever. Not as sad, however. Time tempers all grief, I suppose.”

  “Yes. It is only kind, you know. Otherwise, I am sure that we would not be able to live.”

  “But neither she nor I have forgotten Selby.”

  “Of course not. It’s not to be expected.” He was watching her more warily now, sensing that they were arriving at the meat of Julia’s quest.

  “Nor have we forgiven those who drove him to his grave.”

  “My dear, you sound positively Greek. Whatever are you talking about?”

  “I am talking about clearing my brother’s name. I need your help to do it.”

  If she had not been so intent on her mission, Julia would have laughed at the horrified widening of Geoffrey’s brown eyes.

  “But, my dear cousin, you know I am not much good at this sort of thing.”

  “What sort of thing? You haven’t even heard what I’m going to ask.”

  “I mean revenge and all that. Ferreting out clues, finding the guilty party.”

  “You won’t have to do much,” Julia assured him. “I just need you to get me inside one of the nicer gaming establishments. Madame Beauclaire’s, to be exact.”

  Geoffrey’s eyes now looked as if they might pop right out of his head. “Have you gone mad! A lady at a gambling hell!”

  “I wouldn’t call it a hell, would you? I know Selby used to go there, and he said it was quite a genteel establishment. He said that there were even ladies who attended.”

  “There are females there,” Geoffrey admitted. “There are even sometimes a
woman or two of the ton—but never one who is young and unmarried. Most of the women you would find there are, well, uh…”

  “Loose?” Julia suggested.

  “Really, Julia, you must stop these frank ways of yours if you are ever to get anywhere in Society.”

  “And that, dear cousin, is something we both know will never occur. Not after what happened to Selby.”

  He sighed. “I know. It’s a terrible thing. I wish there were something I could do about it….” He shrugged eloquently.

  “There is. You can escort me to Madame Beauclaire’s. One cannot get in without an invitation, I’ve heard. I am sure that you would always have an invitation.”

  “Of course.” He looked slightly offended that there could be any doubt about the matter. “However, I rarely go. Gambling is so taxing, I find. All that tension—the fear of losing, the excitement of winning. Just watching some of those poor devils is enough to tire me.” When Julia said nothing, merely continued to watch him, he sighed and continued, “What good will it do, anyway? How can your going to Madame Beauclaire’s clear Selby’s name?”

  “Lord Stonehaven goes there—so I have heard.” Julia refrained from mentioning that she had observed him entering the small, elegant house on three different occasions—twice with a beautiful woman on his arm. “I need to speak with him.”

  Geoffrey groaned. “You’re not going to confront Stonehaven in the middle of Madame Beauclaire’s, are you? It wouldn’t be at all the thing, you know.”

  “I’m not that dead to propriety, Geoffrey. I don’t intend to confront the man at all. I simply want to talk to him.”

  “If you hope to persuade him that Selby didn’t do it, I must warn you that I think it’s a lost cause. The evidence was overwhelming—those letters Selby wrote, his using that name….”

  The trust that Selby had been accused of stealing from had been set up for Thomas St. Leger, the son of one of Selby’s friends. Walter St. Leger, the father, had died when he was only twenty-nine, leaving behind a widow, Pamela, and a young son. While the mother, of course, had the guardianship and care of the boy, the estate had been put into a trust until Thomas reached his majority, and Walter had named as trustees four of his friends: Sir Selby Armiger; Deverel Grey, Lord Stonehaven; Varian St. Leger, who was also his cousin; and Major Gordon Fitzmaurice. The fund was actually administered by an agent in London, who took care of the investments of the trust. The trustees’ job was to oversee the boy’s needs and to direct the agent to remit money to his mother as needed. In theory, any of the four trustees could order the disposition of the money, as long as the request was in writing and was co-signed by another of the trustees. In practice, it had been Selby who most often had made requests for the money, because his estate lay near Thomas’s lands, and it was he who frequently saw the boy and who had the closest relationship with him.