CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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Rufus rang the bell at the Home for Distressed Women. Dr. Simmons’s locks seemed to have grown over the past few weeks, evidently in direct proportion to the number of women leaving his establishment. Uncle James, who was in constant contact with Beth Harmon, said that seven women had now gone, and although six were accounted for, there was one still missing.
Who would have thought his dapper Uncle James should be smitten with Beth, that such a man of the world would fall for a mousy middle-aged woman with good sense and kind brown eyes? But then again if Beth could bring herself to marry such a reprobate then good luck to them. James needed someone to keep him in line and Rufus thought Beth would do that admirably.
Unless James did something foolish and sent her running.
Rufus tapped his foot impatiently. He’d been up most of the night and he was tired. He should be in bed. But for some reason it had seemed imperative he see Averil and give her the latest news. Was that because he was so intent upon putting himself in a good light so that she would agree to marry him? Or was there more to it than that?
The door opened.
“Oh.”
It was Averil herself. She smiled when she saw him, her gray eyes lighting up in a way that made his heart lift, and he suddenly knew exactly why he was here. To see that smile, and to bask in her glorious presence.
“Are you the doorkeeper now, as well as everything else?” he managed lightly, as if he weren’t dizzy with lack of sleep and the sight of her, and stepped inside as she drew back. He heard numerous bolts being shot home behind him, and then she came to stand beside him, a little flushed, pushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.
“Gareth doesn’t want to lose anyone else,” she said. “It really is quite disturbing, the number of women who are leaving, and we still don’t know why. None of them will speak about it to us.”
“But what do you think?”
“I think it might have something to do with Jackson.” She shook off her mood and smiled up at him again. “Are you here for anything in particular?”
“I did find out a little more about your sister from Gregson,” and he proceeded to tell her.
After he’d finished she pondered a moment. “I don’t think Rose ever went to the orphanage. Where on earth could she be?”
“Wherever she is I’ll do my best to find her.”
She glanced at him. “I know you’ll do your best, Rufus, but . . . We can’t even seem to find one missing woman, so I can understand how difficult it would be to find a child who disappeared so long ago.”
For a moment her mouth turned down and then she seemed to shake off her sadness. “Eustace and James came for luncheon, did you know?”
“I did,” he said dryly. “Eustace told me how much he enjoyed himself.”
“Hercules loves him, really, and it is no trouble. And James seems to be there more often than Eustace. But I suppose you know that?” She gave him a questioning look.
A couple of giggling women passed them, eyeing Rufus up and down as if he were a piece of meat. It was disconcerting. He took Averil’s arm in a firm grip and led her toward the office and, after peering inside to make sure it was empty, drew her in and closed the door.
“If you want me to warn James off, just say so,” he said, standing so close to her he could smell her scent. Jasmine or something very like it.
“No. I don’t want you to do that. Beth seems very happy, and she is old enough to know her own mind.” Another strand of hair fell down from her pins, and she tucked it behind her ear with the other one.
“Of course she is.”
It occurred to him that James might let slip that Rufus was supposed to be inveigling the Heiress into marriage. Strangely Rufus had forgotten his nefarious plot the moment he saw her. He was far too busy enjoying just being in her company.
Averil took the two steps to the narrow window and peered out. “We’re waiting for Jackson now. Gareth sent him out again. I really don’t think it does much good but Gareth still believes in him.”
“There was something else I came to tell you. My land agent is unable to make the journey down to London just now. It seems he’s injured his leg.” Douglas, his land agent, had still been prepared to travel, but Rufus had suddenly seen the possibilities in having Averil do the traveling, to his home, and had persuaded him not to.
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear he’s unwell, but I was hoping to speak to him as soon as possible. I don’t want Gareth to change his mind again.”
He turned and found she was standing at his side.
“Of course if you are interested in the dower house then the best thing would be for you to visit Southbrook. Then you could see straightaway if the place was suitable.” He let the silence grow, watching her.
Averil thought a moment, reaching up and taking a pin out of her hair and sliding it back in again. Another lock fell down. “I-I don’t know. It’s just, at the moment, with all that’s going on here, I don’t think Gareth will be able to leave.”
Rufus had expected that and he was ready. “What about you? You could come. With Beth, of course. Eustace will have to go home at some point, and James will be staying with him at Southbrook Castle. Doctor Simmons could stay here and look after the Home and we can all go to Southbrook together.”
Her eyes went to his. “I don’t think that would be proper.”
Rufus smiled. He was ready for this, too. “My great-aunt Mildred will be in residence, Averil,” he said silkily. “She’s very proper. She married a lord who was very proper, too. Far more proper than the rest of my family.”
“Yes.” Averil took a breath. “I suppose that would be considered acceptable.”
“Good.” His voice dropped.
Another lock of hair began to slip from her pins and he watched it fall. He couldn’t help himself; he reached out and tucked it behind her ear.
She stilled, her gray eyes on his, and instead of removing his hand immediately, Rufus let it linger, smoothing the backs of his fingers over her cheek, then turning his hand over and cupping her soft, milky skin. He lowered his head and he was sure it wasn’t his imagination but she rose up on tiptoes, and his lips touched hers.
He felt as if his body came alive, everything alive and alert, every sense ready. He wasn’t sure who moved first, whether he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, or she slid hers around his neck and clung on, but at some point the gentle kiss turned into something much more passionate and dangerous.
She made a little sound in her throat, and thinking she wanted him to stop, Rufus loosened his hold on her. But instead of stepping away, she pressed against him harder, and he found himself half-seated on the desk, with her between his thighs, only her skirts to protect her modesty as she leaned into him.
Her mouth was warm and soft, and her hair was in his hands, loose and silky between his fingers. He knew he had to stop. He knew things were getting out of control. But it was so long since he’d felt anything as wonderful as this that he was reluctant to put an end to it.
“Rufus,” she whispered.
Her cheek was resting against his, and then, still with her arms about his neck, she leaned back so that she could see his face. She was pink, her mouth swollen and her eyes alight. Her hair was in a mess, and instinctively he tried to tidy it, only making it worse.
Averil laughed and stepped away at last. She began to take out her pins and with a few deft twists returned herself to a reasonable state of tidiness. He wondered if she realized how dangerous their situation was. She was an innocent but she wasn’t a fool. He’d made the mistake of thinking her a na?ve girl just out of school before, and she’d soon put him straight. No woman who spent time in the Home for Distressed Women could be entirely ignorant of the ways of the world.
“Averil,” he began.
She put a finger to her lips, and then he heard the footsteps approaching outside. Averil hurried to the cabinet in the corner, as if she was searching for some particular letter in the pigeonholes there, but the footsteps continued on without stopping.
“Will you come to Southbrook Castle?” he asked, watching her.
“Yes,” she said, turning to give him a glance from under her long dark lashes. “I think I would like that. Of course”—and she smiled a wicked smile he’d never seen before—“you know that Eustace will insist on bringing Hercules?”
Rufus groaned. “He’ll have to ride on the roof then.”
She giggled, and then suddenly sobered. “I have a request. Can we visit my old nanny? She lives in a small village just north of London. She’s written to me again and says she has something that belonged to my mother. She wants to give it to me, and . . . well, if I talk to her face-to-face, she might know something more. It could help us to find Rose.”
“I think we can manage that,” he said, watching her as she went to the door and opened it. He wondered if he dared straighten up yet; his body was still hard with desire. She had done that to him with one kiss.
Averil glanced out of the door and then turned back with a nod. “Let’s go and tell Gareth,” she said. After a moment he followed.
Averil was in the Home’s kitchen. She had been making lists of food needed for the following week, as well as other matters that she intended to deal with before she left for Southbrook Castle. Gareth had listened while she told him about the planned trip, but he’d declined to accompany them. Gareth wasn’t altogether pleased that she was going off with Lord Southbrook, but he was far more interested in acquiring the new building than he had previously been. His Home was in a mess, and if Averil could help him to keep the charity running he would be grateful.
She’d been telling the cook about the house in Lincolnshire, while Violet helped with rolling out pastry for a pie. When the cook went to stir the soup on the stove, Violet murmured that she wanted a word.
“Privately,” the girl added, with a glance toward the gossipy cook.
They found a quiet corner in the storage room next door.
“What is it, Violet?”
She was hoping the girl might have decided to tell her what she knew about Jackson, because Averil was certain she knew something.
“I heard you talking about going to see this new place for the women. I heard Cook say she’d like to come and take a look at the kitchen, but she couldn’t possibly leave the Home. I was thinking, Lady Averil . . . can I come with you instead? You know I’m a good cook. I know what is needed. I could inspect the kitchen.”
Her pale blue eyes were very earnest, but lurking behind them Averil could see the fear she’d noticed before. Violet was afraid. She wanted to get away from London. She saw this as her opportunity.
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Averil began slowly.
“Please.” Violet took her hand, her fingers pressing painfully into Averil’s. “I need to go with you, miss. I’m not safe here on my own,” she whispered, and then looked even more frightened.
Averil hesitated. Her natural reaction was to agree, to take Violet with her and care for her, to keep her from harm. “Will you tell me what is the matter?” she asked gently. “I don’t think I can agree, Violet, unless you tell me what is wrong.”
Violet swallowed. Averil could almost see the cogs in her brain spinning fast, like a cornered animal seeking a way out. And then she lifted her chin and gave Averil that direct stare that meant she was about to tell a lie. Violet, Averil found herself thinking, would make a wonderful actress.
“There’s a man. I’m frightened of him. The way he looks at me. I don’t want to be here alone with him, Lady Averil, and that’s the truth.”
Averil knew her face showed her shock. Was Violet speaking about Jackson?
Violet was waiting. “You really can’t leave me here,” she said, when it seemed Averil was lost for words.
“Who is this man?” Averil asked, her voice as calm as she could manage. “You must tell me, Violet. I will make certain he does not harm you.”
Violet shook her head wildly. “No, I don’t want to tell you. I can’t tell you. I want to go with you, miss. Please take me.”
The girl was obviously frantic.
Averil knew she should probe further, but then she wondered whether that was wise. The girl might simply leave; there was nothing to stop her. And then Averil would never discover the truth about Jackson—and she was certain it was Jackson of whom Violet was afraid—and what was happening here at the Home. No, it was better to let her come and perhaps, by building her trust, she would eventually tell the truth.
“Very well, Violet. You can come.”
Violet looked so relieved she might weep. Her lips trembled but she forced emotion back, making Averil realize yet again what a steely character the girl was. “Thank you,” she said, nodding her head. “Thank you, Lady Averil. I-I won’t let you down.”
Later, when she was alone again, Averil thought about the journey ahead of her. She felt a stirring of excitement despite all her current problems. The trip to Southbrook would bring her into close contact with the man who was playing havoc with her senses.
Was it wrong to enjoy his kisses so much?
Averil didn’t think so. The earl of Southbrook was like no other man she’d ever met and she was eager to continue that acquaintance as long as possible. If that was what this was, a simple acquaintance. But something was telling Averil it was rather more than that.
In Lord Southbrook she had found a man who was everything she wanted—well almost, and she refused to allow his social position to affect her. As a member of the Husband Hunters Club, her mind turned naturally to marriage, and skittered away again. It was too soon for that, surely? But then again, her friends would tell her she needed to move fast once she’d found her prey, that she needed to secure his heart and his hand, if she was to be a happy wife.
She had never met a man like Rufus before. She had never been in love before. Marriage had seemed something far into the future. Suddenly the whole thing seemed overwhelming. Averil took a deep breath. She would go forth cautiously, she told herself. And then she gave a little smile.
One kiss at a time.
Rufus woke with a start and sat up.
The erotic dream lingered and he groaned. Every night he seemed to be involved in some passionate encounter with Averil, leaving him feeling irritable and out of sorts in the morning. His body wasn’t helping, either. Her presence was having an effect on him that was becoming embarrassing, something he hadn’t had to deal with since he was a callow youth lusting after the pastor’s eldest daughter.
What was he to do?
Marry her. The answer came back promptly. Marry her and bed her.
He supposed taking her to Southbrook was his logical next step. Once she was there he could pop the question. Assuming the castle was in a fit state to receive visitors. Which reminded him, he must send James ahead to deal with the situation.
Rufus lay down again and closed his eyes. Soon he would be able to take the real flesh-and-blood Averil in his arms, instead of dreaming about her. He couldn’t be mistaken in the way she’d looked at him? The way she’d returned his kisses? No, she wanted him to ask her to marry him.
“And I will,” he muttered feverishly to himself. “I bloody well will!”