What Happens in Piccadilly Page 14

  Winn shook his head. “First, why were you in my study?”

  “I was returning a book,” she said. “And I saw the note crumpled up on the floor. I picked it up, read it, and then I heard the door slam. When I looked out the window I saw you walking away and I knew you were likely doing something to protect Miss St. James.”

  “Or I could have been going for a morning ride,” he pointed out. “It’s dangerous to assume that you know what people’s motivations are, Claudia.”

  “Well, you’d look happier than that if you were just going for a ride,” she said. “And I know you’d protect her. I’m not assuming anything there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Another eye roll. “Because you like her!”

  Winn ran a hand over his eyes. “We’re talking in circles. Claudia, I need you to promise me you will say nothing to William or Charlotte about all of this.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. William would be unbearably foolish,” she said.

  “So he would,” Winn agreed. “And to put your mind at rest, I’m taking all the steps I can to ensure Miss St. James’ safety.”

  “You should marry her,” Claudia said.

  “I’m not taking marital advice from a not quite eleven year old,” he stated flatly. “Besides, how on earth would that keep her safe?”

  “Because she taught me all about the peerage and I know that, as our governess, if someone hurt her and that person was a gentleman, not very much would happen to them at all. But if they hurt her and she was the wife of a peer, their social equal, then it could go very badly for them,” Claudia answered. “The best way to protect her is to make the consequences of harming her more severe.”

  Winn stared at the girl with a mixture of shock and awe. She was uncannily brilliant. “You can read any book you like whenever you like… except for the top shelf.”

  “What’s on the top shelf?” she asked curiously.

  Ovid, for one, which she should never read. Some particularly nasty works of John Wilmott that his brother had adored. It was a treasure trove of all the things she should never, ever read. “Nothing. Or rather nothing will be on it by the time you return.”

  Claudia grinned at him. “You’re starting to sound almost paternal.”

  “So I am,” he said, aghast at the thought.

  “Marriage—”

  “Enough about that,” he said firmly. Not because he thought it was a bad idea or because he’d dismissed it out of hand, but because there were other things that had to be addressed first. “Whether or not I elect to pursue Miss St. James as a bride is a matter between me and Miss St. James.”

  “Well, you should pursue her. I know what people look like when they aren’t happily married… they look like my parents did. And I don’t think you and Miss St. James ever would.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. “And why not?”

  “Because you’re good people. You care about other people and try to take care of them. Mama and Papa didn’t do that. Papa only wanted to gamble and stay gone for days and weeks on end. And Mama… she only wanted Papa.”

  Sobered by that, Winn stared down at the keys. “We aren’t getting very far in your lessons.”

  “Are we getting very far in yours?”

  He grinned in spite of himself. “You’re very cheeky, you know?”

  “Yes,” Claudia agreed.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” Winn said firmly. “Now, do you know which keys are which?”

  Claudia sighed but began to rattle off the little bit of pertinent information she had actually gleaned from her one and only music lesson. Winn listened, taking in what she was saying, but part of his mind was thoroughly engaged elsewhere.

  He could marry her.

  It was a foolish notion, but a strangely appealing one.

  *

  Averston was in his club, enjoying a light lunch from his concealed vantage point while Mr. Charles Burney made the rounds. He was like a begging dog, going table to table asking for scraps. Were the man not so exceptionally handsome, Averston would have never given him a second thought. But Burney was handsome and incredibly eager. So, Averston considered what to do about his latest paramour. When Burney finally was near enough, Averting called out, “Mr. Burney, a word if you have a moment.”

  Burney looked startled, clearly having no notion that he’d been there all along, his table concealed by potted palms and a heavy velvet drape. Appearing less than comfortable, he approached.

  “Sit,” Averston said. While it was offered in a welcoming tone, they both recognized it as an order rather than an invitation.

  “Your grace,” Burney said. “I wasn’t aware that you were going to be at the club today.”

  Averston smiled at that, a cold expression that didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t amusement that he felt, after all. Burney’s presumption that he would be privy to his schedule hinted a greater intimacy between them than Averston would ever permit. Whatever had transpired between them in those dark hours together, he answered to no one. The young man needed to remember that. “And why would you be? I see no need to grant you access to my schedule.”

  Burney flushed with embarrassment. “You wished to speak with me?”

  “This has to stop. Don’t humiliate yourself begging for scraps at the tables of your betters,” Averston said with disdain.

  Burney’s flush deepened, but it wasn’t embarrassment now. It was anger. “My betters? Hardly. And I’m left with no choice but to beg! If I don’t find investors, I’ll wind up in the Marshalsea for my father’s debts! And if I don’t get the investors my cousin needs, he’ll—”

  Averston waited for a heartbeat but when no more information was forthcoming, he prodded, “He’ll what?”

  “It hardly matters. What could be worse than the humiliation of being carted off to prison for debts I had no part in accruing?”

  “That is unfortunate but it hardly changes the fact that the stink of desperation on you will send every potential investor running for the hills,” Averston replied calmly, as if the idea of Burney rotting in a debtor’s prison made no matter to him. He wasn’t pleased at the prospect and there might have been a twinge of sympathy, even, but he wasn’t one given to such soft emotions. But, he reasoned, Burney was handsome, eager, and available. While there were others who fit those requirements well enough, and he typically viewed his paramours as expendable, he found himself reluctant to end their sordid little affair on such a sour note.

  “Help me,” Burney implored. “It’s in your power to do so.”

  Averston shook his head. “The trustees would never release that amount of funds on an uncertain investment.”

  “Then don’t invest,” Burney said. “But use your influence so that others will!”

  Averston meticulously cut a small bite from the beef on his plate and brought it to his lips. He ate it, chewing slowly, making no move to answer Burney’s impassioned plea. After he swallowed the morsel, he took a sip of his wine. He’d help him, of course. It served his own purposes to do so, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make the younger man squirm a bit before relenting. Finally, he replied, “And why should I? Do you think our friendship entitles you to any sort of special favors? It doesn’t, you know. Boys like you, well, they’re easy enough to come by.”

  Burney’s face paled and his expression appeared, for a moment, to be shattered. Then he squared his shoulders, firmed his jaw and showed the first hint of spine Averston had seen from him. “It’s nice to know where I stand, I suppose.”

  Averston ignored the pang of conscience. Guilt was a wasted emotion. He couldn’t let Charles Burney care for him. Caring for him would bring only heartache and misery. Their relationship would only ever be about mutual desire and gratification. Anything more than that was impossible and the sooner Burney accepted that, the lesser the likelihood of him being truly hurt. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you… only not for that reason. If I’m going to do somet
hing for you, Burney, you will be required to do something for me in return. It is the way of the world, is it not?”

  “What could I possibly do for you?” Burney asked. “I have nothing.”

  “You have charm, of course. You talk to people, Burney. They like you. That is not true of me. I intimidate them… I scare them. They think I will gobble them up and spit them out,” Averston said.

  “And will you?”

  Averston smiled. “Very likely. But that means you, Burney, will be privy to sensitive information. Confessions and confidences that could serve me well if you choose to share them.”

  The younger man shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable, obviously already knowing something of use that he was hesitant to reveal. Averston decided not to press him, but to wait patiently for him to disclose it. He would, of course. In due time.

  “Tell me the secrets of others, Burney, and I will keep yours… and help you to save your impoverished family,” Averston urged. “I will even dance attendance on your pretty young sister tonight.”

  Burney was silent for a long moment, his thoughts clearly jumbled. He appeared to be on the verge of speaking, then abruptly changed his mind, offering a nod instead.

  “Keep your ear to the ground and let me know what you discover,” Averston said and then waved his hand, dismissing the younger man. “Investments gone awry, political scandals, romantic peccadillos. All of it can be useful, if one hasn’t the uncomfortable fetter of a conscience.”

  He noted the flash of hurt in Burney’s gaze. It wasn’t exactly regret that he felt. Regret wasn’t something he was capable of, but there might have been a moment of longing. For the first time in his life, Averston wondered what it would be like not to simply be cold. How would it feel, he wondered, to value another person’s happiness over his own? He couldn’t say, but he imagined it would never create the hot, tight sensation in his gut that he was currently experiencing.

  But there was a method to his madness. He couldn’t afford to let Burney care for him any more than he could afford to care for Burney. Neither of them was free to do so, not in their current society and not while he was still forced to live under the thumb of a dragon with ice in her veins.

  “She can’t live forever,” he muttered to himself before taking a sip of his wine. One day, she’d breathe her last and he’d finally get her claws out of him. One day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The ball was a glittering affair, as all of them tended to be. It was an unusual event for Winn in that he actually liked most of the people present. Most of the guests were gentry, those with lesser titles, but the turnout was good and there were any number of eligible young bachelors there to save him from Mrs. Burney’s schemes. Still, he wouldn’t say that he was enjoying himself. It had been just over a day since Burney’s blackmail attempt had gone awry, but since that time he’d been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. It was maddening and frustrating.

  Winn moved to the refreshment table and retrieved a glass of champagne for himself. He sipped it slowly and carefully surveyed the room. Burney was there, careful to avoid making any eye contact with him at all. If Mrs. Burney and Amelia were in any way aware of Burney’s actions, it didn’t show in the least. Amelia, sweet and pretty as ever, was dancing with a calf-eyed young man who looked at her as if she’d hung the moon in the stars.

  Rather the way he looked at Miss St. James, he thought bitterly. Try as he might, he could not get her from his mind. Nor could he shake the feeling that something terrible was about to occur. Between Burney’s threats and stupidity, and constantly worrying that someone might see her who had also been a guest in Averston’s home and observed the portrait of Veronique Delaine, he was ready to chuck it all and pack her off to the countryside, willing or no. The fear that it might very well come to that had not escaped him.

  The song ended. The young fellow Amelia had been dancing with escorted her back to her mother. He’d have his dance with her and then take his leave. Before he could cross the room to claim his dance, the butler entered, and with all the pomp the scrawny man could muster, announced the arrival of their latest guest.

  “His grace, Lord Gerald Alford, Duke of Averston!”

  There was a murmur from the gathered crowd. Averston wasn’t one to attend such events, and he certainly wasn’t one to make nice with debs. Which meant that Averston could be there at Burney’s behest. Had the man changed his mind about Burney’s investment scheme? Or was there something more sinister at play? If Burney had broken his word and shared with Averston the truth about Miss St. James, it would have disastrous and possibly deadly consequences for her.

  Winn was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He was obliged to dance the next set with Amelia and if he failed to do so, she would be humiliated. But he couldn’t risk Averston getting away before he had a chance to speak to the man and determine what, precisely, he knew.

  The decision was taken out of his hands. Mrs. Burney waved at him happily, indicating that she was well aware the next set was his. Biting back a curse, he closed the distance and bowed to the young woman.

  “Good evening, Amelia. You look lovely tonight. I believe the next dance is mine,” he said.

  “Indeed, my lord,” Mrs. Burney gushed. “We are most honored by your presence here.”

  Winn didn’t have to respond because the musicians struck the first chord. Instead, he offered Amelia his arm, smiled at her mother and led the girl onto the dance floor.

  “Don’t mind Mama,” she said, utilizing the in vogue French pronunciation of the word. “She’s quite determined to make a match between us despite the fact that I’ve told her countless times we would not suit.”

  Winn nodded. “Your mother is a very determined woman. She will not give up on a match between us until you’re matched with someone else. Even then, I have doubts.”

  Amelia laughed softly. “She doesn’t understand. You’ve been like an older brother to me as long as I’ve known you… and I’ve little doubt that you see me much as you would a younger sister. The truth of the matter is, there is a gentleman that has caught my eye.”

  Winn’s eyebrows arched upward. “And who might that be?”

  “I’m not quite ready to say… not just yet,” she admitted, as she twirled to the music. When they were facing one another once more, she added, “You’ve been such a dear friend to us. It seems terribly demanding to ask it, but would you be so kind as to look after Charlie? I think things are not at all well with him.”

  Winn’s expression remained placid. “What on earth would make you think such?”

  “He’s very secretive now, when he’s never been before,” she replied. “And I’ve caught him in the study late at night, poring over the books and drinking heavily. He looks so terribly worried at such times. I tried to convince him that I didn’t need a ball like this, that the expense was too great, but he was insistent.”

  Winn sighed. “Amelia, you are very dear to me. And you do need this ball. If you are to impress this gentleman and make a suitable match, having a debut such as this is a necessity. I will help Charles if I can.”

  “Will you invest in this scheme he keeps talking about?”

  “No,” Winn said. “But I will make an offer to him to loan him a certain amount of money and steer him toward a suitable investment. In the meantime, you should focus on making a match. That will ease his worries considerably.”

  “Because I’ll be one less person to support,” she surmised.

  “No,” Winn said. “Because he cares very deeply for you and knowing that your welfare has been seen to will offer him some peace, I think.”

  Amelia looked away, her gaze landing on her brother where he laughed and joked with those around him. Despite his apparent gaiety, there was a tension in him that was undeniable. “Thank you, my lord, for being such a good friend to us. And for your generosity, but I’m very worried that Charlie may be in some sort of trouble beyond simply financial woes. It isn
’t the sort of thing that just a loan will cover.”

  Winn nodded. “I fear you may be right, Amelia. But tonight, you should worry for nothing. Enjoy your debut. Dance, laugh, flirt. Do all the things that young girls are supposed to do before they take society by storm… and I’ll—I’ll speak to Burney. And I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  “It’s the least I can do. Our families have been friends for ages, after all. Tell me, Amelia, are you acquainted with the Duke of Averston?”

  She was all wide-eyed innocence as she answered, “I’ve never met him, I think. I know Charlie wanted to have him invest in his latest venture, but I’ve no notion beyond that of why he’s here. In truth, I wasn’t even aware that he’d been invited.”

  “Just as well,” Winn said. “He’s not the sort for you. Avoid him please.”

  Amelia looked toward Averston where he stood there watching the festivities. “I agree. I don’t think I’d have much in common with him, at all. He seems rather cold, I think.”

  “I think that you are a remarkably good judge of character, dear girl.”

  When the dance ended, he escorted her back to her mother. Walking away from the pair, he scanned the room for Averston. Finally, he spotted the man leaning nonchalantly against a column, half-hidden behind a potted palm. Noting the intensity of the man’s gaze, Winn followed it and found that Averston was staring at Burney as he twirled some empty-headed, giggling chit about the dance floor.

  Approaching him, Winn stated bluntly, “I’m surprised to see you here, Averston. I didn’t think these events merited a spot on your already overflowing social calendar.”

  Averston’s expression firmed, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Shall I submit my schedule to you for approval?”

  Winn didn’t take the bait. “What are you doing here really, Averston? The Burney family is hardly part of your social sphere. And we both know you do nothing unless there is profit or power in it. You’ve already rejected Burney’s investment proposition.”