Lovers Forever, page 21
It occurred to him that, unlike his other mistresses, Dolly would fit in very well at Sherbourne Court. There was an air about her.... He frowned. God knew what her people had been thinking when they had placed her at the Black Pig.
As he sat there staring out the window at the fine fall afternoon unfolding before his gaze, he wondered, not for the first time, when her family was going to make their presence felt. They must have realized by now that he had no intention of marrying her. It was strange that they had not come forth and demanded some sort of recompense—after all, it had been money that had prompted their actions. He was more than willing to give them a sizable sum for their efforts, and of course, when he was through with Dolly, he would see to it that she was well taken care of. He moved restlessly, not liking to think, even idly, about the day she would depart from his life. It would be, he admitted testily, a damn long time from now!
Bellingham’s entrance into the morning room disturbed his thoughts, and Nicolas glanced at his butler.
Bellingham bowed majestically, his outward bearing as stiff and unbending as usual. As if displaying a fine ruby before Nicolas, he placed on the table a silver salver upon which rested two cards. “Sir,” he began in his deep, melodious voice, “you have visitors.”
“Well, of course he has visitors!” came an irascible voice from the doorway. Without further ado, two tall, impeccably dressed gentlemen surged into the room. “And we’d have been here sooner if you hadn’t been so stiff rumped, Belly! You know Nick’s going to see us, so you needn’t have tried to fob us off with that nonsense about inquiring if he was receiving visitors. Besides, we ain’t exactly visitors.”
Bellingham closed his eyes as if in anguish. “Sir, as you can see, Baron Rockwell and his brother have come to call.”
Nicolas grinned. “Yes, I can see. Thank you, Bellingham. Oh, and ask Cook if she would mind sending in some more food. My friends will no doubt be hungry.”
“Indeed we are,” replied Alexander Rockwell, the baron’s brother, as he carelessly tossed his greatcoat and gloves at Bellingham and seated himself confidently at the table near Nicolas. “It’s been a damn long time since that meager breakfast we ate on the road this morning. I swear, I could eat a horse! Oh, and Nick, we’ll be staying awhile—got a problem. Tom can tell you all about it.”
Nicolas sent his butler a smiling look. “Would you see to it that rooms are readied for the baron and his brother? Oh, and any servants they may have brought with them?”
“Of course,” Bellingham replied in spectral tones. His arms laden with the outer garments from both the Rockwell brothers, he marched sedately from the room.
His black eyes twinkling, Nicolas regarded his two friends as they settled themselves more comfortably. Both were garbed stylishly in dark blue jackets, buff pantaloons, and gleaming black boots, their cravats as white and starched and tastefully arranged as even that demanding arbiter of taste, Brummell, could have wished.
Lord Rockwell was a strikingly handsome man with corn fair hair and brilliant blue eyes, and with his great fortune and estates, it was amazing that he had reached the advanced age of forty and had not yet married. While not quite the catch his brother was, Alexander Rockwell was not to be overlooked. He didn’t have a title, but his fortune was nearly as large and he had the same tall, slender physique. Though his curly locks were merely an attractive brown and his eyes didn’t possess the startling clarity of the baron’s, he had caused many a maiden to wish longingly for his attentions. To the dismay of several matchmaking mamas, Alexander had turned thirty-six in March and, like his brother, still showed no signs of abandoning his rakish ways and finding a wife.
Nicolas had known both men for almost as long as he could remember. Baron Rockwell had actually been Randal’s friend, but being of a far warmer nature than the previous earl, Tom Rockwell had always had a kind word or a quick wink for young Nick. In fact, much to Randal’s irritation, it had been Tom who had seen to it that Nicolas had gone to his first prizefight and had even guided Nicolas’s and Alexander’s eager, uncertain steps into less respectable pastimes....
Nicolas and Alexander had been boon companions practically from the first moment they had met at the Cornwall estate of the Rockwell family; their parents had been friends, and for a while Nick had known there had been great hopes between the families that Tom’s fancy would alight upon Athena. Fortunately, Nicolas thought with a grin, that terrible fate hadn’t befallen the baron.
The two younger boys had gone to school together and served briefly together in the army. Alexander had eventually grown bored with a military career, and since there was no need for him to earn a living, unlike Nick in those days, he had sold out his captaincy some years previously. The Rockwell brothers had been among the first to exuberantly welcome Nick back to England.
Despite not being known for their discretion, for the next several moments the Rockwells contented themselves with polite conversation as food and drink were placed before them. It was only after the servants had finally departed that Alexander said, “Didn’t think those fellows were ever going to leave us alone!” Glancing at the vast array of mouthwatering offerings scattered up and down the long table, he added hastily, “Not that I ain’t glad your staff is so well trained—thing is, we’ve got a problem and can’t talk in front of servants!”
Nicolas, sipping another cup of coffee, raised a quizzical brow. “A problem? What sort?”
“Not the sort that can be bandied about,” Lord Rockwell said testily. “It’s that damned Avery! I wish to hell that Boney’s troops had blown him to the very devil!”
“My sentiments precisely,” Nicolas returned dryly. “But how is Avery a problem for you?”
“M’niece,” Lord Rockwell said gloomily, a worried expression crossing his normally sunny countenance.
Nicolas’s brow rose higher. “The heiress? Thea? Theda? Something like that?”
“Tess. Short for ‘Theresa.’ Named after her great-grandmother. The one who ran away with your grandfather,” Alexander offered helpfully.
Nicolas rolled his eyes. “I know which one. But why is she a problem? Has she run away with her dancing master or something equally scandalous?”
Taking a bite of rare roast beef slathered with spicy mustard, Tom said, “Wish it was that simple. Thing is, believe Avery means to marry her. Came down here to see for ourselves.” Tom’s expression became even more gloomy. “Can’t abide Avery. Like Tess. Wouldn’t want to see her leg-shackled to a bounder like Avery!”
“Well, yes, I do see your problem, but if the chit’s your niece, why don’t you just whisk her way to Cornwall?”
“Can’t,” Alexander answered morosely. “Aunts.”
Looking thoroughly confused, Nicolas repeated, “Ants? ... Oh, you mean aunts? What do they have to do with the situation?”
“There is two of ‘em, and Tess won’t leave ’em. That clutch-fisted bastard Gregory left them damn near penniless. Dependent upon Avery. Tess insists that Avery would mistreat them if she weren’t around to keep an eye on things.”
“Well then, you’re warm enough—set them up in their own household—Thea, er, Tess will be away from Avery and she’ll have her two aunts with her. What could be more simple?”
“Got principles, the aunts, especially Hetty,” Alexander answered bitterly. “Won’t even let Tess use her money, let alone ours to rescue them from Avery’s pinch-penny ways.”
“Well then, you’re just going to have to explain everything to, er, Tess and, for her own good, make her go with you to Cornwell. If the aunts’ situation becomes desperate enough, I think,” Nicolas finished coolly, “that you’ll be able to overcome their principles.”
Baron Rockwell looked keenly at Nicolas. “You ever met Tess?”
“Tom, she’s a Mandeville! Now what do you think? I wouldn’t know the chit if she came riding up to my front door.”
“Thing is,” Tom said grimly, “if you knew Tess, you’d know what a damn fool idea that notion of yours is. You can’t make Tess go anywhere that she don’t want to go. And she ain’t leaving her aunts. Got a mind of her own, does Tess.”
Nicolas sent him a look. “How old is this niece of yours, anyway?”
“Turned twenty-one this past April.”
“Good God!” Nicolas muttered irritably. “Why didn’t you take her in hand long before this? Or at least have married her off as soon as she came out of the schoolroom? If you’re so worried about her marrying Avery, find a suitor you do like and get her married. Then you can let her husband teach her respect for male authority and he can handle the problem with the aunts.”
Rockwell and Alexander exchanged glances. Silence fell. Rockwell leaned forward confidingly. “We’ve already thought of that,” he said finally. He paused, looked at his brother again, and then said in a rush, “Thought you’d make a good match for Tess!”
Nicolas stared at his two friends as if they had suddenly sprouted daffodils from their ears. “You thought what? Knowing the estrangement between the Talmages and the Mandevilles, you thought I just might”—despite his best efforts, his voice rose—“want to marry Tess Mandeville! Good God! Have the pair of you lost your senses?”
“Told you he wasn’t going to like it,” Alexander said to his brother.
“Well then, you come up with a better idea,” the baron retorted in harried accents.
“Didn’t say it wasn’t a good idea,” Alexander replied thoughtfully. “Said I told you he wasn’t going to like it.”
“It’s a ridiculous idea,” Nicolas said scathingly. “And only a pair of maggot-brained fellows like yourselves would have thought of it!”
Both brothers looked at him innocently. “Think about it, Nick,” Alexander persisted manfully. “Except for that bastard Gregory ...” He stopped and added scrupulously, “And Avery, all the Mandevilles got good blood in their veins. Well connected, too. Respectable family. Tess is a pretty little thing.” Gloomily he admitted, “Not biddable, though. Got a temper.” Then he brightened. “But she has a fortune. You need a wife. She needs a husband. Good idea if you married her.”
Nicolas ground his teeth together. “I am not going to marry your bloody niece!”
Alexander sighed. Looked at his brother. “Told you he wouldn’t like it.”
The baron, normally as amiable and convivial a fellow as one could meet, sent his beloved brother a glance of acute dislike. “Stop staying that! I know he doesn’t like it, but if he won’t marry her, what the devil are we going to do?”
His own temper cooling, and reminding himself that he’d been friends with the Rockwells for a long time and should have been used to their harum-scarum fits and starts, Nicolas said in calmer tones, “Why don’t you just go talk to Tess? Explain your fears to her. If she’s a reasonable young woman, she’ll realize her own danger . . . unless, of course, she wants to marry Avery?”
Both Rockwells shook their head.
“Can’t abide him,” said the baron.
“Would like to skewer his liver,” added Alexander.
“Well then, simply tell her,” Nicolas said reasonably, “that if she doesn’t want to find herself compromised, she would do well to follow your advice and remove herself, and her aunts, to Cornwell.”
“Intended to, but can’t. Told you we had a problem,” Rockwell said indignantly. “Avery won’t let us see her! Been there today already. Place is locked up tighter than a virgin’s thighs. No one around but that hatchet-faced fellow of his, Lowell. Wouldn’t even let us in the place! Said the master had gone to London, which I think is all hum, and that the ladies weren’t receiving visitors!” His brilliant blue eyes kindled. “Visitors! I’m her damned uncle! She knew we were coming. Wrote her. Told her we’d be here today. Long visit. Mentioned going to Cornwell for Christmas.”
Despite telling himself that it was none of his business, that he wasn’t going to get involved, particularly with the affairs of anyone named Mandeville, Nicolas felt the first stirrings of unease for Tess Mandeville. From past experience he knew that Avery Mandeville was an unscrupulous bastard—in Portugal an entire loving little family had been destroyed because of him—and now he felt all the remembered fury and horror surge up through him. If the new baron had decided to marry the Rockwells’ niece, she could very well be in a great deal of trouble. “Do you think Avery read your letter?” he asked abruptly.
Both men looked at him dumbfounded. “Could have,” the baron said slowly. “If it arrived and Tess wasn’t there. God knows Avery’s scoundrel enough to read other people’s letters.”
Nick stared at his steepled fingers. “If Avery knew you were coming, and if he really does have plans to marry Tess, willingly or not, then the news of your impending arrival must have sent the wind up him. It wouldn’t take a genius to realize that you must have heard talk of some sort in London that had you worried and that you were coming to Kent to discover how the land lay for yourselves. From what you’ve told me about the contents of your letter, its pretty obvious that once you arrived here, your niece wasn’t going to be out of your company ... or protection. Avery would also know that you were planning on spiriting her away to Cornwell for a visit that would last until after the first of the year—or longer. By which time you might have convinced her not to return to Mandeville Manor. That wouldn’t,” he ended quietly, “have pleased our dear Avery very much.”
“Goddamn him!” Alexander burst out furiously, his blue eyes blazing. “If that bastard has harmed her or Hetty ... laid a hand on them, I’ll ...” Words failed him.
Nick was frowning. “You know,” he said, “it’s possible that Lowell was telling the truth—that Avery is in London.” When both men glanced at him, he added, “I passed him on my way down here a few days ago. He was alone and he was driving rapidly in the direction of the City.” His frown grew. “But if Avery is in London ... why didn’t the ladies welcome you?”
There was a horrified silence. Alexander blanched and swallowed painfully. “You don’t think,” he began in an appalled voice, “that he murdered Het—them, do you?”
“While Avery is very capable of murder,” Nicolas said grimly, “I don’t believe that it would be in his best interests to murder the young lady he plans to marry! Nor, I might add, her aunts—at least not until he had secured her fortune.” Nick looked at the two men. “I think you need to see Tess, and as soon as possible.”
“We know that,” Alexander muttered. “That’s why we have a plan.”
“A plan?” Nick asked warily, reminding himself that while the Rockwell family were noted for their stunning looks, it was equally well known that none of them could be said to possess a high intellect. “What sort of plan?”
The brothers exchanged pleased glances. “We wait until after midnight and then we break into the house. Find the ladies and take them away. Simple!”
“Assuming that Avery is away and that you won’t have to confront him, what do you suppose Lowell and the other servants at the manor are going to be doing while you two are busily breaking into the home of a lord of the realm, hmm?”
“Uh, sleeping?” Alexander offered hopefully.
The baron leaned forward. “Thing is, Nick, we need your help. After your exploits on the continent, you know all about getting in and out of tight spots undetected. We thought you’d help us.”
Nicolas closed his eyes. Yes, only the Rockwells would think nothing of embroiling their friends in such a wild scheme, nor would they hesitate a moment to join in, if the situation were reversed. The problem for Nick was that, for all the reasons to refuse—and there were several—he knew he was going to help them.
Sighing, he said, “I will help you on one condition.” He sent them a hard look. “You do exactly what I say, when I say it. No improvising. No deciding halfway through that you have a better idea. Swear it!”
With alacrity both men gave him the vow he wanted, and the next several minutes were passed in laying out a plan for the storming of Mandeville Manor that night. Getting inside the manor, Nicolas told them acidly, was the easiest problem to solve. It was once they were inside that things would get complicated. Fortunately, the Rockwells had been guests at the manor several times and were quite intimate with its layout and design, which eliminated their fumbling around in unfamiliar territory. The greatest problem was the ladies: if they were being held against their will, it would be up to Nicolas and the Rockwells not only to free them, but to find a place for them to stay.
For obvious reasons Sherbourne Court was not one of the places to offer them sanctuary. In selecting a place for the women to stay, their rescuers had also to consider the possibility of scandal. Despite being notoriously indiscreet themselves, the Rockwells wanted as little gossip as possible about their niece and tonight’s escapade. So taking the women just anywhere wasn’t an option.
Inwardly Nick sighed, knowing the solution was right before his eyes—if Dolly wouldn’t mind passing herself off as a servant for a day or two. His lips hardened. It shouldn’t prove too arduous—hadn’t she been playing the part of a servant the night he had found her? His mind was made up; Tess Mandeville and her aunts could be comfortably hidden away in the gatekeeper’s cottage until another, more permanent solution could be found. He smiled suddenly. His grandmother might not be overly fond of the Mandeville women, but he suspected she would be more inclined to tolerate their presence at the gatekeeper’s cottage than that of his mistress! He shook his head. Who would have believed there would come a time that he’d actually be grateful to the Mandevilles? At least for the moment, their presence gave him the excuse he needed to explain opening the old cottage.
Their scheme decided upon, conversation drifted onto other topics, and it was then that Nicolas realized his own plans for the afternoon and evening had been changed drastically. Explaining the need for Dolly to temporarily give up her rooms and move downstairs to the servants’ quarters was not going to be pleasant and was not something he could simply put in a note. He’d have to tell her in person, and he glanced consideringly at the two men sprawled comfortably around his table.
As he sat there staring out the window at the fine fall afternoon unfolding before his gaze, he wondered, not for the first time, when her family was going to make their presence felt. They must have realized by now that he had no intention of marrying her. It was strange that they had not come forth and demanded some sort of recompense—after all, it had been money that had prompted their actions. He was more than willing to give them a sizable sum for their efforts, and of course, when he was through with Dolly, he would see to it that she was well taken care of. He moved restlessly, not liking to think, even idly, about the day she would depart from his life. It would be, he admitted testily, a damn long time from now!
Bellingham’s entrance into the morning room disturbed his thoughts, and Nicolas glanced at his butler.
Bellingham bowed majestically, his outward bearing as stiff and unbending as usual. As if displaying a fine ruby before Nicolas, he placed on the table a silver salver upon which rested two cards. “Sir,” he began in his deep, melodious voice, “you have visitors.”
“Well, of course he has visitors!” came an irascible voice from the doorway. Without further ado, two tall, impeccably dressed gentlemen surged into the room. “And we’d have been here sooner if you hadn’t been so stiff rumped, Belly! You know Nick’s going to see us, so you needn’t have tried to fob us off with that nonsense about inquiring if he was receiving visitors. Besides, we ain’t exactly visitors.”
Bellingham closed his eyes as if in anguish. “Sir, as you can see, Baron Rockwell and his brother have come to call.”
Nicolas grinned. “Yes, I can see. Thank you, Bellingham. Oh, and ask Cook if she would mind sending in some more food. My friends will no doubt be hungry.”
“Indeed we are,” replied Alexander Rockwell, the baron’s brother, as he carelessly tossed his greatcoat and gloves at Bellingham and seated himself confidently at the table near Nicolas. “It’s been a damn long time since that meager breakfast we ate on the road this morning. I swear, I could eat a horse! Oh, and Nick, we’ll be staying awhile—got a problem. Tom can tell you all about it.”
Nicolas sent his butler a smiling look. “Would you see to it that rooms are readied for the baron and his brother? Oh, and any servants they may have brought with them?”
“Of course,” Bellingham replied in spectral tones. His arms laden with the outer garments from both the Rockwell brothers, he marched sedately from the room.
His black eyes twinkling, Nicolas regarded his two friends as they settled themselves more comfortably. Both were garbed stylishly in dark blue jackets, buff pantaloons, and gleaming black boots, their cravats as white and starched and tastefully arranged as even that demanding arbiter of taste, Brummell, could have wished.
Lord Rockwell was a strikingly handsome man with corn fair hair and brilliant blue eyes, and with his great fortune and estates, it was amazing that he had reached the advanced age of forty and had not yet married. While not quite the catch his brother was, Alexander Rockwell was not to be overlooked. He didn’t have a title, but his fortune was nearly as large and he had the same tall, slender physique. Though his curly locks were merely an attractive brown and his eyes didn’t possess the startling clarity of the baron’s, he had caused many a maiden to wish longingly for his attentions. To the dismay of several matchmaking mamas, Alexander had turned thirty-six in March and, like his brother, still showed no signs of abandoning his rakish ways and finding a wife.
Nicolas had known both men for almost as long as he could remember. Baron Rockwell had actually been Randal’s friend, but being of a far warmer nature than the previous earl, Tom Rockwell had always had a kind word or a quick wink for young Nick. In fact, much to Randal’s irritation, it had been Tom who had seen to it that Nicolas had gone to his first prizefight and had even guided Nicolas’s and Alexander’s eager, uncertain steps into less respectable pastimes....
Nicolas and Alexander had been boon companions practically from the first moment they had met at the Cornwall estate of the Rockwell family; their parents had been friends, and for a while Nick had known there had been great hopes between the families that Tom’s fancy would alight upon Athena. Fortunately, Nicolas thought with a grin, that terrible fate hadn’t befallen the baron.
The two younger boys had gone to school together and served briefly together in the army. Alexander had eventually grown bored with a military career, and since there was no need for him to earn a living, unlike Nick in those days, he had sold out his captaincy some years previously. The Rockwell brothers had been among the first to exuberantly welcome Nick back to England.
Despite not being known for their discretion, for the next several moments the Rockwells contented themselves with polite conversation as food and drink were placed before them. It was only after the servants had finally departed that Alexander said, “Didn’t think those fellows were ever going to leave us alone!” Glancing at the vast array of mouthwatering offerings scattered up and down the long table, he added hastily, “Not that I ain’t glad your staff is so well trained—thing is, we’ve got a problem and can’t talk in front of servants!”
Nicolas, sipping another cup of coffee, raised a quizzical brow. “A problem? What sort?”
“Not the sort that can be bandied about,” Lord Rockwell said testily. “It’s that damned Avery! I wish to hell that Boney’s troops had blown him to the very devil!”
“My sentiments precisely,” Nicolas returned dryly. “But how is Avery a problem for you?”
“M’niece,” Lord Rockwell said gloomily, a worried expression crossing his normally sunny countenance.
Nicolas’s brow rose higher. “The heiress? Thea? Theda? Something like that?”
“Tess. Short for ‘Theresa.’ Named after her great-grandmother. The one who ran away with your grandfather,” Alexander offered helpfully.
Nicolas rolled his eyes. “I know which one. But why is she a problem? Has she run away with her dancing master or something equally scandalous?”
Taking a bite of rare roast beef slathered with spicy mustard, Tom said, “Wish it was that simple. Thing is, believe Avery means to marry her. Came down here to see for ourselves.” Tom’s expression became even more gloomy. “Can’t abide Avery. Like Tess. Wouldn’t want to see her leg-shackled to a bounder like Avery!”
“Well, yes, I do see your problem, but if the chit’s your niece, why don’t you just whisk her way to Cornwall?”
“Can’t,” Alexander answered morosely. “Aunts.”
Looking thoroughly confused, Nicolas repeated, “Ants? ... Oh, you mean aunts? What do they have to do with the situation?”
“There is two of ‘em, and Tess won’t leave ’em. That clutch-fisted bastard Gregory left them damn near penniless. Dependent upon Avery. Tess insists that Avery would mistreat them if she weren’t around to keep an eye on things.”
“Well then, you’re warm enough—set them up in their own household—Thea, er, Tess will be away from Avery and she’ll have her two aunts with her. What could be more simple?”
“Got principles, the aunts, especially Hetty,” Alexander answered bitterly. “Won’t even let Tess use her money, let alone ours to rescue them from Avery’s pinch-penny ways.”
“Well then, you’re just going to have to explain everything to, er, Tess and, for her own good, make her go with you to Cornwell. If the aunts’ situation becomes desperate enough, I think,” Nicolas finished coolly, “that you’ll be able to overcome their principles.”
Baron Rockwell looked keenly at Nicolas. “You ever met Tess?”
“Tom, she’s a Mandeville! Now what do you think? I wouldn’t know the chit if she came riding up to my front door.”
“Thing is,” Tom said grimly, “if you knew Tess, you’d know what a damn fool idea that notion of yours is. You can’t make Tess go anywhere that she don’t want to go. And she ain’t leaving her aunts. Got a mind of her own, does Tess.”
Nicolas sent him a look. “How old is this niece of yours, anyway?”
“Turned twenty-one this past April.”
“Good God!” Nicolas muttered irritably. “Why didn’t you take her in hand long before this? Or at least have married her off as soon as she came out of the schoolroom? If you’re so worried about her marrying Avery, find a suitor you do like and get her married. Then you can let her husband teach her respect for male authority and he can handle the problem with the aunts.”
Rockwell and Alexander exchanged glances. Silence fell. Rockwell leaned forward confidingly. “We’ve already thought of that,” he said finally. He paused, looked at his brother again, and then said in a rush, “Thought you’d make a good match for Tess!”
Nicolas stared at his two friends as if they had suddenly sprouted daffodils from their ears. “You thought what? Knowing the estrangement between the Talmages and the Mandevilles, you thought I just might”—despite his best efforts, his voice rose—“want to marry Tess Mandeville! Good God! Have the pair of you lost your senses?”
“Told you he wasn’t going to like it,” Alexander said to his brother.
“Well then, you come up with a better idea,” the baron retorted in harried accents.
“Didn’t say it wasn’t a good idea,” Alexander replied thoughtfully. “Said I told you he wasn’t going to like it.”
“It’s a ridiculous idea,” Nicolas said scathingly. “And only a pair of maggot-brained fellows like yourselves would have thought of it!”
Both brothers looked at him innocently. “Think about it, Nick,” Alexander persisted manfully. “Except for that bastard Gregory ...” He stopped and added scrupulously, “And Avery, all the Mandevilles got good blood in their veins. Well connected, too. Respectable family. Tess is a pretty little thing.” Gloomily he admitted, “Not biddable, though. Got a temper.” Then he brightened. “But she has a fortune. You need a wife. She needs a husband. Good idea if you married her.”
Nicolas ground his teeth together. “I am not going to marry your bloody niece!”
Alexander sighed. Looked at his brother. “Told you he wouldn’t like it.”
The baron, normally as amiable and convivial a fellow as one could meet, sent his beloved brother a glance of acute dislike. “Stop staying that! I know he doesn’t like it, but if he won’t marry her, what the devil are we going to do?”
His own temper cooling, and reminding himself that he’d been friends with the Rockwells for a long time and should have been used to their harum-scarum fits and starts, Nicolas said in calmer tones, “Why don’t you just go talk to Tess? Explain your fears to her. If she’s a reasonable young woman, she’ll realize her own danger . . . unless, of course, she wants to marry Avery?”
Both Rockwells shook their head.
“Can’t abide him,” said the baron.
“Would like to skewer his liver,” added Alexander.
“Well then, simply tell her,” Nicolas said reasonably, “that if she doesn’t want to find herself compromised, she would do well to follow your advice and remove herself, and her aunts, to Cornwell.”
“Intended to, but can’t. Told you we had a problem,” Rockwell said indignantly. “Avery won’t let us see her! Been there today already. Place is locked up tighter than a virgin’s thighs. No one around but that hatchet-faced fellow of his, Lowell. Wouldn’t even let us in the place! Said the master had gone to London, which I think is all hum, and that the ladies weren’t receiving visitors!” His brilliant blue eyes kindled. “Visitors! I’m her damned uncle! She knew we were coming. Wrote her. Told her we’d be here today. Long visit. Mentioned going to Cornwell for Christmas.”
Despite telling himself that it was none of his business, that he wasn’t going to get involved, particularly with the affairs of anyone named Mandeville, Nicolas felt the first stirrings of unease for Tess Mandeville. From past experience he knew that Avery Mandeville was an unscrupulous bastard—in Portugal an entire loving little family had been destroyed because of him—and now he felt all the remembered fury and horror surge up through him. If the new baron had decided to marry the Rockwells’ niece, she could very well be in a great deal of trouble. “Do you think Avery read your letter?” he asked abruptly.
Both men looked at him dumbfounded. “Could have,” the baron said slowly. “If it arrived and Tess wasn’t there. God knows Avery’s scoundrel enough to read other people’s letters.”
Nick stared at his steepled fingers. “If Avery knew you were coming, and if he really does have plans to marry Tess, willingly or not, then the news of your impending arrival must have sent the wind up him. It wouldn’t take a genius to realize that you must have heard talk of some sort in London that had you worried and that you were coming to Kent to discover how the land lay for yourselves. From what you’ve told me about the contents of your letter, its pretty obvious that once you arrived here, your niece wasn’t going to be out of your company ... or protection. Avery would also know that you were planning on spiriting her away to Cornwell for a visit that would last until after the first of the year—or longer. By which time you might have convinced her not to return to Mandeville Manor. That wouldn’t,” he ended quietly, “have pleased our dear Avery very much.”
“Goddamn him!” Alexander burst out furiously, his blue eyes blazing. “If that bastard has harmed her or Hetty ... laid a hand on them, I’ll ...” Words failed him.
Nick was frowning. “You know,” he said, “it’s possible that Lowell was telling the truth—that Avery is in London.” When both men glanced at him, he added, “I passed him on my way down here a few days ago. He was alone and he was driving rapidly in the direction of the City.” His frown grew. “But if Avery is in London ... why didn’t the ladies welcome you?”
There was a horrified silence. Alexander blanched and swallowed painfully. “You don’t think,” he began in an appalled voice, “that he murdered Het—them, do you?”
“While Avery is very capable of murder,” Nicolas said grimly, “I don’t believe that it would be in his best interests to murder the young lady he plans to marry! Nor, I might add, her aunts—at least not until he had secured her fortune.” Nick looked at the two men. “I think you need to see Tess, and as soon as possible.”
“We know that,” Alexander muttered. “That’s why we have a plan.”
“A plan?” Nick asked warily, reminding himself that while the Rockwell family were noted for their stunning looks, it was equally well known that none of them could be said to possess a high intellect. “What sort of plan?”
The brothers exchanged pleased glances. “We wait until after midnight and then we break into the house. Find the ladies and take them away. Simple!”
“Assuming that Avery is away and that you won’t have to confront him, what do you suppose Lowell and the other servants at the manor are going to be doing while you two are busily breaking into the home of a lord of the realm, hmm?”
“Uh, sleeping?” Alexander offered hopefully.
The baron leaned forward. “Thing is, Nick, we need your help. After your exploits on the continent, you know all about getting in and out of tight spots undetected. We thought you’d help us.”
Nicolas closed his eyes. Yes, only the Rockwells would think nothing of embroiling their friends in such a wild scheme, nor would they hesitate a moment to join in, if the situation were reversed. The problem for Nick was that, for all the reasons to refuse—and there were several—he knew he was going to help them.
Sighing, he said, “I will help you on one condition.” He sent them a hard look. “You do exactly what I say, when I say it. No improvising. No deciding halfway through that you have a better idea. Swear it!”
With alacrity both men gave him the vow he wanted, and the next several minutes were passed in laying out a plan for the storming of Mandeville Manor that night. Getting inside the manor, Nicolas told them acidly, was the easiest problem to solve. It was once they were inside that things would get complicated. Fortunately, the Rockwells had been guests at the manor several times and were quite intimate with its layout and design, which eliminated their fumbling around in unfamiliar territory. The greatest problem was the ladies: if they were being held against their will, it would be up to Nicolas and the Rockwells not only to free them, but to find a place for them to stay.
For obvious reasons Sherbourne Court was not one of the places to offer them sanctuary. In selecting a place for the women to stay, their rescuers had also to consider the possibility of scandal. Despite being notoriously indiscreet themselves, the Rockwells wanted as little gossip as possible about their niece and tonight’s escapade. So taking the women just anywhere wasn’t an option.
Inwardly Nick sighed, knowing the solution was right before his eyes—if Dolly wouldn’t mind passing herself off as a servant for a day or two. His lips hardened. It shouldn’t prove too arduous—hadn’t she been playing the part of a servant the night he had found her? His mind was made up; Tess Mandeville and her aunts could be comfortably hidden away in the gatekeeper’s cottage until another, more permanent solution could be found. He smiled suddenly. His grandmother might not be overly fond of the Mandeville women, but he suspected she would be more inclined to tolerate their presence at the gatekeeper’s cottage than that of his mistress! He shook his head. Who would have believed there would come a time that he’d actually be grateful to the Mandevilles? At least for the moment, their presence gave him the excuse he needed to explain opening the old cottage.
Their scheme decided upon, conversation drifted onto other topics, and it was then that Nicolas realized his own plans for the afternoon and evening had been changed drastically. Explaining the need for Dolly to temporarily give up her rooms and move downstairs to the servants’ quarters was not going to be pleasant and was not something he could simply put in a note. He’d have to tell her in person, and he glanced consideringly at the two men sprawled comfortably around his table.
