The Devereaux Affair by Adele Clee
Chapter 15
Lord Newberry’slibrary didn’t smell of musty old books or tart ink, nor did it carry the woody aroma one expected from a room lined with oak shelves. Stale cheroot smoke clawed at Bennet’s throat, along with the unmistakable tang of a sexual encounter.
The couple who’d vacated the dark room mere moments ago had done more than seek a quiet place away from the din of the ballroom. They’d been rampantly celebrating their alliance.
Bennet crossed the room and took his position behind the thick curtain, his thoughts turning to Julianna, as they always did of late. He laughed to himself, recalling he’d been a boy of ten the last time he’d taken to snooping in the darkness. Julianna had asked what their parents did when they locked the study door and made an awful racket.
“They’re shouting and banging yet sound oddly happy.”
Bennet chuckled aloud at the memory.
No boy wanted to see his naked father tied to a chair while his mistress bounced on his lap. No girl wished to see her mother sliding up and down a stiff cock. Julianna had squealed, and all hell had broken loose.
They’d been kept apart for two weeks after that. Yet each night, they crept from their beds at the witching hour and met secretly within the shadowy walls of Witherdeen Abbey.
His mind turned to the night she’d been prised from his grasp and dragged into Denver’s carriage. They could have ripped his heart from his chest and it would have been less painful. After falling into a permanent state of melancholy, his father sent him away to school, then Eton, then St John’s College, Cambridge. He’d made friends, focused on his studies. Soon Julianna became nothing but a beautiful memory, one he visited nightly during those peaceful moments before sleep.
The creak of the library door jerked Bennet from his reverie. He parted the curtains a fraction and peered out into the gloom. Two people entered and quickly closed the door. The couple began conversing in breathless pants, then lunged and locked lips.
Hellfire!
A guttural groan rent the air. “God, Maria, you drive me wild.”
“Be quick. My husband thinks I’m in the retiring room. Hurry!”
The devil’s grunts accompanied the rustling of material and a pleasurable moan as he thrust home. Forced to listen to the woman’s crude descriptions of his actions, Bennet winced.
“That’s it! You’re in! Yes! I feel you now, Lowbridge.”
Lowbridge!
Good God! Did Miss Ponsonby know of her lover’s indiscretion?
“How lovely. Good Lord! I’m taking all of you. How delightful.”
“Hush.”
“Yes! What a fine instrument!”
“Then be quiet and focus on the rhythm.”
“Yes! What a pretty tune!”
“Madam, I cannot finish if you keep talking.”
Poor Lowbridge attracted women with a penchant for rambling.
“But you’re so hard, sir. I might be coming. Yes! Oh, yes!”
“For the love of God, be quiet!”
“There’s no need to be rude.”
Bennet pursed his lips, but a snort escaped.
“Did you hear that?” Maria panted.
“Damnation! You’ll have to suck me to completion.”
Even with her mouth stuffed full, Bennet could hear the woman’s incoherent mumbles.
Lowbridge finished on a frustrated groan.
Bennet shoved his fingers into his ears, fearing Maria might describe the gift Lowbridge had deposited in her mouth. He took to musing while he waited for them to straighten their clothes and leave.
Daventry’s plan had been a stroke of genius. Or so Bennet had thought when the man suggested Julianna reside in St James’ Square. Now he wasn’t so sure. Pretending to love Julianna was as easy as breathing. Having her in his home posed no great hardship, even if he did walk around in a constant state of arousal.
But the niggling voice of his conscience grew louder, more insistent with each passing hour. Now it had taken to prodding and poking to get his attention. Everything about the situation was wrong. Bennet would emerge from this fiasco unscathed. The rakes would pat him on the back and welcome him to the elite club of men who’d bedded a de Lacy. The gossips might accuse him of being as fixated as his father, but his conquest would be forgotten when another on dit tickled their fancy.
The same was not true for Julianna.
She was the last person he wanted to hurt. But she would be forever tainted for only pretending to be his mistress. He’d not understood her need to leave for Paris. Paris! What the devil would she find in Paris that she couldn’t find in London. Now he knew.
Peace. Freedom.
With a heavy heart, he made a snap decision. One he should have made the second he discovered she worked for Lucius Daventry. He would hire another agent. Give Julianna the money Daventry promised, drive her to Dover, watch her board a ship, knowing he would never see her again.
His throat tightened.
He would miss her more now than ever.
Bennet peered through a gap in the curtain, relieved to find Lowbridge and Maria had vacated the library. Suspicion surfaced. Lowbridge’s sneaky antics marked him as a devious devil. Cole had described the man as a self-serving prig. It was true. But had Lowbridge and Isabella concocted a scheme to torment him?
After bearing witness to tonight’s caper, Bennet might blackmail his friend to get to the truth. Yes! He would rather threaten Lowbridge than have Julianna confront Isabella.
Bennet was about to yank back the curtain when the library door opened, and Isabella’s irate voice severed the silence.
“This is tantamount to blackmail, Mrs Eden.”
“I’m giving you an opportunity to prove your innocence.” Julianna locked the door and removed the key. “Your actions suggest you have devious motives. Lord Devereaux intends to inform the magistrate you were trespassing on his land. That you started a fire in the stables. There are witnesses.”
Damnation! Julianna had made her first mistake. Still, Bennet admired her courage in opting for a direct attack and was somewhat relieved he’d not had to listen to the women discussing his skill, or lack thereof, in bed.
“Lord Devereaux is the acting magistrate while Sir Henry’s replacement is being decided.” Isabella gave a mocking snort. “What will Devereaux do? Report me to himself?”
A brief silence ensued.
“Who told you that? Mr Branner?”
“Who?”
“Mr Branner. The steward at Witherdeen. The man whose cottage you were seen entering. Your accomplice in the plot to murder the Marquess Devereaux. Incidentally, a new magistrate has been appointed. Lord Hankin is notoriously harsh in his punishments.”
Clever.
“Who are these witnesses? Let me guess. That fusspot housekeeper and her army of miserable maids.” Isabella huffed. “If this is a ploy to hurt your lover’s ex-mistress, save your breath. Lowbridge has just made me an offer, and I’m inclined to accept.”
Lowbridge! The sneaky rat.
Julianna’s sardonic laugh sounded fake to Bennet’s ears, hopefully not to Isabella’s. “What a shame you didn’t arrive minutes earlier. While waiting in the alcove along the corridor, I saw Mr Lowbridge leave this room with a woman. They were both dishevelled, and he was busy fastening the buttons on his satin breeches.”
“You’re lying.”
“I shall find the woman, and you can ask her yourself. The person who should be affronted is dear Miss Ponsonby. The man is scheming behind her back. Where is your loyalty to your friend?”
“Friend! She’s an annoying harpy who never stops jabbering. Lowbridge wants rid of her. A pretty face and lush figure can only sustain a man for so long. As no doubt you will discover when Devereaux casts you aside and takes a wife.”
The last jibe affected Julianna. She looked away to gather her composure. Isabella seized the opportunity to flex her fangs and inject more venom.
“We look so similar, Mrs Eden. Surely you must wonder who Devereaux is thinking of when he’s bedding you. You’re nothing more than a fresh bit of skirt. Someone to warm the bed while he chooses his marchioness.”
Bennet gripped the curtain, ready to dart out of his hiding place and put Isabella firmly in her place. He’d been waiting an eternity for Julianna to return. Now, he’d be the one left behind—the one to mourn the loss.
But Julianna raised her chin and mustered her mother’s courage. “You confuse me with other courtesans, Miss Winters. I’m a de Lacy. I say who deserves a place in my bed. I decide if it’s to be the Marquess Devereaux. A de Lacy does not wait for men to tire of her as you have done. She rips out men’s hearts and leaves them wanting.”
Isabella gawped.
“Know this,” Julianna continued with steely determination. “Mr Branner may not be a titled gentleman, but like all the pathetic lords here tonight, he knows how to manipulate women. During my short visit to Witherdeen, he invited me to his cottage on numerous occasions.”
Curse the devil to Hades!
Bennet prayed it was another ruse to gain a confession. Even so, the urge to punch his steward left his fists throbbing.
“Perhaps Branner pitied you because you lack my sophistication,” Isabella countered.
“Or perhaps Mr Branner discovered I am not Lord Devereaux’s mistress, and it’s merely a ruse to catch a criminal.”
Good Lord!
Julianna was to play the doting mistress, not confess to being an enquiry agent. Would Daventry want her to reveal intimate details of her work? Shouldn’t she consult her client before revealing his secrets?
Isabella’s laugh held no hint of amusement. “You certainly take after your mother, Mrs Eden. You’re full of elaborate tales.”
Julianna must have read Bennet’s mind because she started answering his questions. “I’m not supposed to reveal the fact I work as an agent of the Order. Have you heard of the Order?”
“The group of men who help peasants?” Isabella spat.
“The group of men who help the innocent and pursue the guilty.”
Isabella burst into fits of laughter. “Oh, you are funny, Mrs Eden. An agent of the Order, indeed. As if anyone would employ a woman to solve crimes.”
To Bennet’s surprise, Julianna chuckled. “Truth be told, I’m a useless agent, and have tendered my resignation.”
Isabella fell silent.
“Still, I am a de Lacy, and I intend to solve my only case even if I have to lie and cheat to uncover the truth. So you see, Miss Winters, I shall make your life a living hell unless you tell me what I want to know.”
Isabella stood rooted to the spot.
“Of course, Lord Devereaux is wondering why I’ve been honest with you and not continued with our facade.” Hell! Julianna gestured to the curtain. “You may show yourself, my lord. Miss Winters needs to realise we intend to see her incarcerated for her crimes against you.”
Feeling like a boy caught spying on the maids, Bennet slipped out from his secret hiding place. Staying any embarrassment, he leant on a peer’s trusty crutch—arrogance.
“Isabella.” Bennet inclined his head. “Mrs Eden has shown you our hand, and now you’re forced to wager your freedom in the hope she’s wrong.”
Isabella glanced nervously between them. “If Mrs Eden is not your mistress, why put an end to our arrangement?”
Bennet couldn’t expect honesty from Isabella and then blatantly lie. “Ours was a casual affair. But I cannot entertain thoughts of another woman now I’ve rekindled my friendship with Mrs Eden.” He could feel the heat of Julianna’s penetrating stare. “Mrs Eden is an enquiry agent working for the Order. The men are ruthless when it comes to catching criminals, and the female agents are equally unrelenting.”
Isabella touched her hand to her throat. “I assure you, I had nothing to do with the fire in the stable yard.”
“Did you come to Bramley with Mr Granger?” Julianna said.
“Yes, but the devil left me there. I had to take the mail coach back to London.” She pursed her lips as if she’d tasted something sour. “Travelling with commoners is the worst kind of punishment.”
“Did Mr Lowbridge tell you why his cousin left in such a hurry?”
Isabella scanned Julianna’s gown with some contempt. “Lowbridge said you encouraged Granger’s affections in a bid to get Devereaux’s attention.”
Bennet stared down his nose. “Granger’s a disgusting lech who preys on innocent women. I doubt he’ll make the same mistake again. Why did you come to Bramley?”
“To visit a friend.”
“Who?”
Isabella failed to reply.
“Mr Branner said you arranged to meet him,” Julianna interjected. “He said you’ve been using him to hurt Lord Devereaux, though wouldn’t say why. You gave him the handbills to leave at Witherdeen. You had a penny boy deliver a handbill to Lord Devereaux’s house in St James’ Square. The penny boy gave a statement. The woman who hired him fits your description.”
Isabella jumped. “What the devil are you talking about? What handbills? The boy must be mistaken. I’m not the only red-haired woman in London. Perhaps you sent it.”
Julianna caught Bennet’s gaze. “My lord, we’re wasting our time here. I think it’s best if Sir Malcolm Langley takes Miss Winters to Bow Street for questioning. We have the evidence from the coaching inn, the record of her secret visits to Bramley, and Mr Branner’s testimony. I’m sure if a constable searches her apartment, he will find my mother’s gold gowns.”
Isabella paled.
Bennet sought to play along. “I’ll not have the ton knowing my damn business. Sir Malcolm is rather brutal when interrogating suspects.”
“I must advise against a soft approach, my lord. We must pass the evidence to Bow Street. Mr Daventry wants this case solved quickly, and Miss Winters refuses to co-operate.”
“Wait!” Miss Winters glanced at the locked library door. “If I tell you what I know, will you let me leave without alerting Bow Street?”
Julianna sighed. “That depends on whether we think you’re telling the truth. Mr Branner believes you’re a devious minx.”
“Branner is a lying toad. At least Granger admits he’s an immoral reprobate.” Isabella started shaking. Clearly Branner had hurt her in some despicable way.
“What did Branner do?” Bennet wondered if beating profligates on his front lawn was to become a habit. That said, he’d not act solely on the word of this woman.
“You’d better tell us everything,” Julianna added. “I’ll not give you a second chance.” She could be quite spirited when needed.
After a prolonged sigh, Isabella said, “I did pay a penny boy to deliver the letter, but Branner said it was a matter concerning the estate. I didn’t know anything about handbills or why Branner would want to send one. But two nights ago, he asked me to deliver another.”
Two nights ago?
She was consorting with Branner while Bennet dined with his friends?
“Another handbill?” Bennet gritted his teeth. He would murder Branner with his bare hands.
“A letter, but I broke the seal and saw what was inside. That’s when I knew, knew he was trying to blame me for all the terrible things he’s done.”
Julianna’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “Describe the letter.”
“He had cut words from a newspaper and stuck them onto the page.”
Isabella couldn’t know the specific details unless she had seen the handbill or produced the letter herself.
“What did it say?” Bennet held his breath.
The way Isabella looked at Julianna chilled Bennet’s blood. “It was a jumbled mess of words, terrible words about you, Mrs Eden. It said you died at the hands of your childhood friend. That it was a case of unrequited love. Consumed with sorrow, the Marquess Devereaux shot himself with a duelling pistol.”
A heavy silence descended.
An unholy rage tore through Bennet. If he unleashed the violent tempest, he would throttle every man in sight. Perhaps that was Branner’s intention. To have Bennet lose all sense and rationale. But why?
“Are you and Mr Branner lovers?” Julianna spoke in a voice thick with distrust. “Don’t bother answering. Of course you are, else he wouldn’t have asked for your assistance. How strange that you both blame each other.”
“Are you partners in this bid to test my sanity?” Bennet growled.
“No!” Isabella reached for Bennet’s hand but he stepped away. “What do you want me to say? That I was foolish enough to believe Branner’s protestations? That because he’s not a lord, I fell for his stories about love and marriage?”
“Did you?”
A tear trickled down Isabella’s cheek. “He said we would move away. That he was to come into an inheritance and could support us both in the comfort to which I am accustomed.”
Julianna sighed. “Believe actions, not words. That’s what my mother always said though she rarely placed faith in either.” She paused. “What else did Mr Branner ask you to do?”
“Nothing, other than I was to visit him at Witherdeen. We arranged to meet at a coaching inn numerous times, but he came on one occasion.”
Julianna gave a curious hum. “Were you to come to Witherdeen late at night and wait by the oak tree? Were you to wear my mother’s gown? The one you stole from the attic?”
Isabella nodded. “He said he liked me in the gold dress. Told me to wait by the oak tree, and he would come when the coast was clear.”
“You’re lying!” Julianna snapped. “You couldn’t have been at Witherdeen because Mr Granger brought you to Bramley two days later.”
Bennet noticed the sudden flush rising to Isabella’s cheeks. What excuse would she use to explain the cracks in her story? But then he realised it was a flush of anger, not embarrassment.
“Good God! You lied! You lied about having information from the innkeeper. Else you would know Granger brought me to Bramley two days early. You would know the devil made me share a room with him as payment for ferrying me from town.”
Julianna’s shoulders sagged. “I said I would lie to uncover the truth. Mr Granger took advantage of the situation, and my heart goes out to you, but you’ve deceived Lord Devereaux, and that’s something I cannot condone.”
Isabella thrust out her hand. “I’m leaving. Give me the key. I’ve told you everything I know and suggest you begin by questioning Branner. Ask Granger. He’ll tell you that I called on him and asked him to ferry me to Bramley. He’ll tell you that he agreed to leave right away and then proceeded to use me for his own end.” Her hand started shaking. More tears fell, though she tried to fight the sudden sobs. “The k-key! Give me the damn key!”
Julianna gave her the key.
Isabella darted across the room. It took her three attempts to open the door, and then she was gone.
For a few seconds Bennet stared at the door. “Well, now we know who sent the handbills. Branner must have staged the scene with the gargoyle and lied about the gravestone.”
“But Grimley saw the stone.”
“Perhaps Branner caught him treasure hunting and threatened to tell me.”
Julianna frowned. “You know about Grimley digging in the chapter house?”
“He’s been doing it for years, hoping for a windfall. He’s getting too old to work, and I thought to hide a pouch of sovereigns for him to find.”
She shivered. “I get chills thinking about Mr Branner left to wreak havoc at Witherdeen. What if he should raze the house to the ground in your absence?”
“If that was his plan, he would have torched the house long ago.”
“None of it makes sense. What motive could Mr Branner have for sending the letters, for lying and being so devious?”
Bennet shrugged. “I have no notion. We should speak to Daventry, have him accompany us to Witherdeen. After hearing about the handbill Isabella failed to deliver, I’ll not take risks with your safety. Not until we’ve apprehended Branner.”
The veiled threat had shaken her resolve, for she made no protest.
“Bennet, Mr Cole is at Witherdeen. Surely he should have been back by now. What if something terrible has happened to him? What if he’s found evidence of Mr Branner’s duplicity and your steward has attacked him with the sledgehammer?”
“There’s not a man alive with the courage to threaten Finlay Cole.” And yet a wave of dread washed over him. Branner knew the ruins better than anyone. Cole would be defenceless against a man pouncing in the dark. “Even so, we must leave for Witherdeen tonight.”
Julianna looked up at him, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Bennet, I’m frightened. Frightened, Mr Branner has something terrible in store for you.”
Bennet drew her into an embrace. He’d meant to hold her close, that’s all, but he couldn’t help but brush his mouth over her soft lips. She responded instantly, opening to him, letting him taste her fears, letting him explore every delicious aspect of her mouth.
The door burst open.
Julianna shot back and gasped in shock.
Lucius Daventry stormed into the library, dressed entirely in black and looking like a fallen angel. A haggard Finlay Cole followed behind and closed the door.
“Sloane said we’d find you here.” Daventry scanned the room with his hawk-like gaze. “You’re certain we’re alone?”
“Indeed.” Bennet’s heart thudded.
From the grim look on Daventry’s face, he was the bearer of bad news. Why else would the man attend a ball when he despised social events? And from Cole’s dusty coat and windswept hair, he had recently returned from Witherdeen.
Had a fire ravaged Bennet’s ancestral home? “Has something happened at Witherdeen?” Instinctively, he reached for Julianna’s hand and gripped it tightly.
Daventry’s dark gaze fell to their clasped hands. “There’s no easy way to say this. The news will come as a shock.” He paused, those silent seconds carrying the weight of his burden. “Branner is dead.”
