What Happens in Piccadilly Page 8

  Winn bristled. “She’s not prime anything. She’s the governess to my nieces and nephew and as you stated yourself, respectable. I’ll thank you to speak of her as such.” Winn walked away from him, shoulders back and head high, furious with Burney, with himself, with Averston.

  “Montgomery… it was Averston, wasn’t it?”

  Winn’s blood ran cold. “What about Averston?” he asked.

  “It was Averston that made you pull out of the scheme, wasn’t it?” Burney demanded.

  Relief washed through him. “I was never in the scheme, Burney. I only agreed to hear you out. I wouldn’t have bought into it with or without Averston. Good day… and yes, tell your mother, I will arrive on time for the ball Saturday night. I will make an appearance. I will dance with your sister, once and once only, and your mother will leave me firmly off her matchmaking list. Is that understood? I won’t drag some schoolroom miss down the aisle!”

  Chapter Seven

  They returned to the townhouse and the ride was curiously quiet. William was brooding, the earl was lost in thought, Claudia and Charlotte were obviously very sensitive to the mood of their brother and uncle and so said nothing at all save for Charlotte’s sweet murmuring as she spoke to her dolly. Finally, Callie’d had enough of it. “Who was that gentleman, Lord Montgomery?”

  “His name is Charles Burney. He’s an acquaintance, a school friend of the children’s father, in fact. Currently, he’s trying to get me to invest in some scheme with him that involves his cousin who is a gambler and wastrel. I have declined, but as you see, he is rather insistent,” the earl replied.

  He was lying. Oh, well, no. He was telling the truth, just not all of it. Of that, Callie was certain. “I see. And is that the man you found to not be nice, William?”

  “Yes. He was very rude,” the boy said, and proceeded to pick his nose.

  “William, that is also rude. Fingers do not belong in noses. If you need a handkerchief, you will find one in your coat pocket,” she said.

  “How’d it get there?” he asked.

  “I put it there this morning,” she said. “In fact, I will put one there every day and when you feel the need of it, you have only to look.”

  “If William doesn’t like him, then I don’t like him!” Charlotte stated rather emphatically. “He seemed not nice. Too loud. And he showed too many teeth when he smiled… like he was a fake. Papa had friends like him. I didn’t like them either. They’d eat all the food in the house and then leave us with nothing!”

  Callie realized things were quickly getting out of hand. Speaking more firmly to the children than she had previously, she stated, “It isn’t up to you to like him. You don’t have to like anyone you don’t choose to, but we do have to be polite to him. Don’t you agree, my lord?”

  “What?” he asked, looking back at her from where he’d been staring out the window. He was quite clearly distracted by something.

  “Don’t you agree that the children should all be polite to Mr. Burney? He is a family connection, after all.”

  “Yes,” he agreed quickly. “Be polite to him, though I find it unlikely you’ll ever have cause to cross paths with him again.”

  They’d reached the house then. Footmen came out and carried all the packages inside while the earl helped them all down once more, just as he’d done at the beginning of their shopping excursion. Though it was painfully obvious that the mood was entirely different.

  “Children, go upstairs to your rooms and wash your hands and faces please. Claudia, will you help Charlotte?”

  “Yes, Miss St. James,” she said. They all curtsied and bowed and then ran up the stairs like heathens.

  The moment they were out of sight, Callie whirled on him. “I don’t know what you’re playing at. Those children need you and if you think to ignore them in favor of some whey-faced, ne’er-do-well who only means to lead you down the primrose path and divest you of your fortune, I will not have it. That man is clearly not trustworthy!”

  “Charles Burney is a family friend, Miss St. James. That is all. Furthermore, I think you may be laboring under some confusion about exactly who is in charge here. I’m not to be ordered about by you or anyone else,” Winn snapped.

  Callie wasn’t about to be bowed by his temper. He could get as angry as he liked, but she wasn’t going to back down. The children needed someone to stand up for them, and good or ill, that would always be her. “Very well, my lord. You are certainly in charge. But I am still entitled to my opinions, especially when they concern the children and their welfare. You heard Charlotte. He reminds them of their father and his feckless friends and associates. The last thing they need is to feel that you are as unreliable as their father was.”

  If he was taken aback by her rather inappropriate and highly ill-advised taking him to task, his expression, save for a minor arching of his eyebrows, did not reveal it. “I do not trust Burney. And I’ve no intention of investing with him. I will go to the ball this weekend because his sister, Amelia, is a sweet and very shy girl and her mother will thrust her at every single, titled gentleman who darkens their door, be he eighteen or eighty. The presence of loftier titles assures her success as a debutante and for that reason alone, I am going. Trust me when I tell you, Miss St. James, I’d rather do anything else. In fact, I’m thinking we should leave London. I’ll take the children to my estate in the country. You should invite Miss Darrow to come along and the both of you can reside with us there. Two governesses are surely better than one with that lot.”

  “Effie cannot possibly leave her school.”

  “Then I will arrange for a chaperone so that you may join us,” he insisted.

  Callie realized then that he wanted them out of town for a very specific reason. “Is he blackmailing you?”

  The earl’s eyebrows more than arched. They rose nearly to his hairline in shock. “I’ve done nothing to be blackmailed with, Miss St. James!”

  “Then tell me what this is about! And please do not give me some flimsy story about investments and debutantes. I want the truth from you, my lord. However ugly it may be! Are you sending them away?”

  “Sending who away?” he asked, clearly perplexed.

  “The children, of course. I understand that, as a bachelor, it cannot be easy to suddenly have the care of three young people thrust upon you, but I cannot tell you how damaging it would be to these children. Given the strained relationships they had with their parents prior to their illnesses and tragic deaths, I can only say that experiencing such a rejection from you, now their nearest living relative… I fear it would be catastrophic to them. Especially poor William. He looks up to you so!” Callie cried. She was terrified to think what it might do to them. In only a matter of days, she’d grown terribly attached to the children. Perhaps because she saw so much of her own childhood pain reflected in each one of them. And the disappointment she felt at the thought of him doing something so lacking in compassion also weighed heavily on her.

  “I’m not sending them away,” he said. Then the accusation seemed to sink in a bit deeper, deep enough to raise his ire. “I would never send them away! They are my family and I will not shuffle them off to others. I meet my responsibilities, Miss St. James!”

  Responsibilities. Callie wanted to shake the man. Winn Hamilton, Earl of Montgomery, was utterly infuriating. And he was also hiding something from her. Of that, she was certain. “They are more than responsibilities. They do not need to be simply added to your list of daily tasks! They are children, my lord, and what they require from you is your love. Your guidance. The sense of safety and security that can only be achieved through having an adult figure in a young person’s life who cares for them and protects them… even if it is from themselves! They need to know they are wanted!”

  His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, not menacing exactly, but clearly furious with her. “Do you presume, Miss St. James, to proclaim that you are in possession of the ability to know precisely what I feel for another p
erson? If so, I should imagine that you would realize by now just how deeply you have insulted me—beyond measure, in fact. Were you a man, I would call you out for it!”

  “Were I a man, I would never presume to know how anyone feels!” she snapped. “As we all know, men rarely deign to acknowledge such a trifling thing as another person’s emotions, especially if that other person is either a female or a child!”

  *

  Winn had never been so angry in his life. In fact, he’d never known another person who had the ability to make him as angry as Miss St. James, his employee, just had. Where in the devil had that come from? He was torn between wanting to throttle her and wanting to—he stopped the thought. He knew precisely what it was he wished to do with Miss St. James and he also knew that even considering it was nothing more than the path to ruination. Kissing Calliope St. James would surely bring about nothing less than his doom. Yet he could think of nothing else.

  Perhaps it was the fact that through the course of their angry and heated exchange they had somehow closed the distance that separated them until they were facing off toe to toe. He wanted to step back. There was no question that he should step back. But he didn’t. Instead, he inched forward until he could see her pupils dilate, until he could hear the soft hitch in her breathing and feel the rush of it as she finally exhaled. But she didn’t back away either. And as her head tipped back, her face lifting toward his, her lashes drifted lower. He was lost. Even knowing it was a mistake, he was unable to resist.

  He leaned in and touched his lips to hers. It was only a whisper of a kiss, but it felled him as surely as a volley from a cannon. Against every urge that gripped him, he didn’t take her into his arms. He didn’t deepen the kiss. Instead, he simply settled his lips more firmly upon hers and committed the texture of them, the taste of them and the lightning bolt sensations they stirred in him, to memory. Because even as he kissed her, he knew it was an error that could never be repeated but would often be remembered.

  It lasted only seconds, although it altered him forever. Some things, once done, could never be undone. And having tasted her lips once, it would now haunt him for all his days. He acknowledged that, acknowledged that he’d made a terrible error in judgment, and that he regretted it not in the least. Then he simply drew back from her and stared down into her upturned face and confused gaze.

  She stared up at him for a moment, one hand drawn up to her plump, rosy lips. “Why did you do that?”

  Winn shrugged. “I cannot say.”

  “You don’t know why you kissed me?” she demanded, as if that were somehow more offensive than the liberties he had just taken.

  A heavy sigh escaped him and he looked away from her for just a moment, long enough to get his bearings. Then he answered, “I know why I kissed you, Miss St. James. And I know why I would very much like to kiss you again. But those explanations are even more inappropriate than my behavior has been. So, no, Miss St. James, I cannot say.”

  “Oh,” she said, apparently mollified by that. But there was also a spark of curiosity in her gaze. “Well, you can’t do it again. Not ever. I don’t want to leave the children, but I can’t—I just can’t. It would mark me the worst sort of fool.”

  “And what would it mark me, Miss St. James?” he asked.

  “You said it yourself, my lord… I am incapable of reading your thoughts. What it makes of you is determined by your intentions. And while it may have been unwise, I do not think it was intended. Simply an impulse.”

  “That it was,” he agreed.

  “And it was one we simply must never repeat,” she stated firmly.

  “I know,” he agreed. And it gutted him. “You should go upstairs and see to them.”

  She started to walk away, but then turned back to him. “I was very harsh with you, judging you unfairly before because I was afraid for the children. But my concern isn’t only for them. They could be very good for you if you let them.”

  Winn felt a smile tugging at his lips in spite of everything that had occurred that afternoon. “They already have been, Miss St. James. I’m aware of that.”

  “Then tell me the truth, so that I may know if they require protection from it. What are you hiding, my lord?”

  “Call me Winn,” he said. “At least when we are alone.”

  “It would be a mistake,” she said, the declination quick to her lips.

  “I know that, too. But I want you to do so anyway. I cannot tell you. I can promise you, Miss St. James, that everything I am doing is for the best interests of every person in this household and, right now, that includes you. Please do not ask me. I’ve no wish to lie to you but the truth is more dangerous than you know,” he said.

  “And was that kiss in my best interests?” she asked.

  “No… but it was in mine,” Winn admitted. There was a sense of inevitability for him, in kissing her, as if it were simply meant to be. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. As a man who was used to being in control of everything about himself, including his passions, being swept away by impulse was a novel experience. “Please, go to the children. They’ll be climbing the walls by now… and we’ve tempted fate and ourselves enough already.”

  She turned away and moved toward the door, her steps slow and uncertain. When she reached it, she turned back to him, glancing at him over her shoulder, her face a study in confusion. “I’ve never been kissed before.”

  He smiled, a gentle curving of his lips. “I know that, as well, Miss St. James.”

  “I can’t say for certain, as I’ve no basis for comparison, but I thought it was a very nice kiss… Winn.”

  With that, she fled, the door closing soundly behind her. Crossing the expanse of the Persian carpet, Winn sank into the chair behind his desk and put his head in his hands. He’d had a simple life once. Clubs, investments, the occasional ball, riding and shooting when he felt like it. Now, he was overrun with wild children who acted like animals half the time and he was bedeviled by a governess who’d tied him in knots in a matter of days. And if she was who he truly believed her to be, her very existence put her in the sights of the most ruthless family in London, a family who would not hesitate to see her killed rather than face the scandal of her ignoble birth. Not to mention, they’d have to give up a sizable inheritance that was never meant to be theirs anyway.

  “Bloody, everlasting hell,” he muttered.

  And then Winn did something he rarely ever did. He reached for a decanter of brandy and took a deep drink of it, straight from the crystal vessel. It might only be the middle of the afternoon, but a day had never called for spirits more. He meant to drink every last drop of it and banish her from his mind, at least until the morrow.

  *

  Burney waited in the elaborate foyer of the Duke of Averston’s Mayfair mansion. It could not be called a townhome as it was at least triple the size of most. Not to mention that the elaborate decor made him feel more as if he were being presented at court rather than courting an investor. Shifting from one foot to the other as he waited, Burney considered his options. They were slim, to be sure. If he didn’t get the money to invest in his cousin’s scheme then his cousin would disclose the terrible truth about Burney’s bachelorhood—that he preferred lovers of a more masculine persuasion.

  If the truth came out, Burney would be ruined. His whole family would be ruined. Poverty would be the least of his concerns. Fleeing to France would be his only course of action and that would take him away from everything and everyone he held dear.

  The butler appeared at the end of the hall and walked toward him with slow, measured steps. The man certainly was in no hurry. By the time he’d traversed the length of the corridor, Burney was on pins and needles. Would Averston even see him or would he be sent away… again?

  “His grace will see you in his study, Mr. Burney,” the butler said in a slightly disapproving tone. “This way, sir.”

  Burney followed the man down the corridor, measuring his steps and his pace to the s
ervant’s. It was torture. They were no more than halfway down the corridor, when out of boredom, Burney’s eyes began to wander. The portrait jumped out at him. And recognition was instantaneous. The woman in the portrait looked almost identical to Montgomery’s new governess. The likeness was uncanny. His gaze remained on that telling piece of art, even as they walked on.

  Finally, they reached the study and Burney was ushered once more into the dark, richly appointed room. It was a masculine sanctuary, full of dark wood, lush velvet and rich leather. It smelled of old books, tobacco and the burning wood in the hearth. No coal fires for a duke, it would seem.

  “The Right Honorable Mr. Charles Burney, Esquire to see you, your grace,” the butler intoned with grandiosity before backing through the door and closing it firmly after him.

  It was silent for a moment after the servant left. Then slowly, Averston took the cheroot from his lips and settled it in a crystal dish on the top of his desk. “What are you doing here, Burney? I told you that I won’t invest in your scheme.”

  “I’m not here for that,” Burney said. “I’m here for other reasons.”

  Averston’s eyes narrowed. “And what reasons are those?”

  Doubt hit him then. Yes, he’d caught a look, he’d seen Averston studying him in a way that was usually reserved for only those one was attracted to. But that didn’t mean Averston would be pleased to have it pointed out. “I thought we might further our friendship, your grace.”

  Averston smiled, coldly and with a hint of cruelty. “I’ve friends enough, Mr. Burney. I have no need of more.”

  “Then I should go,” Burney said and turned away to do just that.

  “I said that I have no need of friends, Mr. Burney. I did not say that I have no need of you,” Averston said.

  Excited but still hesitant, Burney hedged, “I’m not sure I understand your meaning, your grace.”

  Averston rose and walked around his massive desk to perch on the corner of it. “I asked about you. Discreetly, of course. I made inquiries so that I might know whether or not we were… like-minded, shall we say?”