A Season to Be Sinful Read online

  “Oh, now you mean to be unpleasant. That is no subject fit for dinner conversation. You will ruin my appetite.” In spite of that, she speared a tender slice of lamb and put it in her mouth, then waggled her fork at him. “How I wish I had not pressed for an introduction, Sherry. Woodridge is a distant relation by marriage, to be sure, but not nearly as distant as I should like. If Rivendale had not seen fit to turn up his toes so many years ago, I swear I would be taking him to task now. No husband should leave his wife a fortune and impecunious relations. That the baron has always held favor with the ton must be acknowledged, yet I find him too willing to impart advice. I cannot hang on his every word.”

  “Then he has not been able to ingratiate himself.”

  “No. Precisely the opposite.”

  Sherry feigned relief. “Good. Then mayhap you haven’t written me out of your will.”

  “What makes you think I ever wrote you into it?”

  “Because you asked me if I wanted the Vermeer or the Reynolds.”

  “I never did such a thing.” There was a pause as she reconsidered. “Did I?”

  Sherry chuckled. “No, you didn’t. But in the event you are wondering, it is the Vermeer I have had my eye on.”

  “You are a villain, Sherry.” From Lady Rivendale’s lips, this was naught but an endearment.

  It was gone midnight by the time Pinch, Dash, and Midge were found sleeping in an unused stairwell hidden between the walls of the gallery and the music salon. The passage began in the wine cellar and extended two floors above the gallery. In addition to a paneled entrance to the gallery and salon, it also opened into a drawing room and, higher yet, into a bedchamber. Sherry remembered the stairwell but did not credit that the boys could have found it after little more than two months. He had been almost of an age with them when he came across it, but he had grown up at Granville Hall and knew its place in history as a sanctuary for those out of favor with the Court. Intrigued by the stories his father told him, he had spent long hours searching for the passages and had eventually found three. That the scoundrels had discovered even one simultaneously awed and amused, and he took no pains to hide it.

  Sherry picked up Midge and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Tolley helped Pinch to his feet and took care to keep him from stumbling, while Pipkin looked after Dash. As word of finding the boys spread, servants that had been part of the search began to assemble in the gallery. When Sherry ducked through the narrow opening carrying Midge, it aroused a collective sigh. He noticed that his godmother stood hovering just beyond the circle of servants, interested in spite of herself and trying not to show it.

  She was a fraud. He almost said so aloud, but Midge stirred and he decided to level the accusation later.

  “Thank you for your help,” he told the gathering. “I am certain the boys will want to make their apology to all of you in the morning.” He addressed the butler. “You will tell Mrs. Bennet that it appears the boys helped themselves to her meat pies.”

  “I will, my lord.”

  “Then these three ruffians are for bed.” Sherry handed Midge over to one of the footman. “As I hope all of you will be.”

  The servants parted for the trio taking the boys away, then followed them out, dispersing once they reached the hall.

  Sherry closed the door in the wall, using his shoulder to press it into place until he heard the latch catch. Standing back, he regarded its clever concealment in the dark walnut paneling and shook his head as he marveled at the boys’ achievement.

  “I believe you are impressed,” Lady Rivendale said, stepping to his side. She slid her arm in the crook of his and gave it a small squeeze. “As am I.”

  He glanced sideways. “They are good lads, Aunt. I am sure you’ll—”

  “With you, Sherry,” she said, interrupting him. “I do not know if I ever have been so favorably disposed to you as I was upon seeing you carry out that scamp upon your shoulder. You already own my heart, so I cannot understand how it is possible for you to have tapped this wellspring of affection, but there you have it.” She sighed and leaned against him. “I think you can anticipate getting the Vermeer.”

  Bending his head, Sherry pressed his smile against the top of hers. “Do me the very great favor of living forever,” he said. “That will be enough.”

  After waking around midnight, Lily grew restless as she became aware of activity in the great house of which she had no part and, worse, no understanding. Using one crutch, she hobbled to her door and poked her head into the hallway just in time to see several servants duck into the wing’s rear stairwell. She called to them but did not raise her voice much above a whisper as she was loath to rouse the children.

  It was rare since coming to Granville that she had not spent time with each of them when they were ready to lie down. They were unfamiliar with the ritual, but Lily had memories of her own mother occasionally coming to her room and sitting with her until she fell asleep. At the abbey, Sister Mary Joseph would sometimes sit in one corner of the dormitory and read from the Bible until every girl in the double row of beds was finally asleep.

  The boys had no memories to compare to her own. Pinch and Midge could only vaguely recall a time when they lived with their parents. Dash knew his own mother long enough to understand she was a whore. They had no sense of belonging to anyone save for each other, and that belonging had been born and fostered by the desire to survive.

  Lily considered that it was no different for her. The bond she had forged with them—and the children she’d helped before them—was necessary for her own survival. If she were to go on, it could not be alone.

  While the restriction to her room and the bed was irksome, it was the overwhelming sense of aloneness that finally provoked her to leave. To Lily’s way of thinking, the fine thread of fear woven into that feeling distinguished it from loneliness, and as she limped awkwardly toward Dash’s room, fear was very much on her mind.

  Finding that Dash was gone from his bed was not in itself alarming. There were times when one of the boys would cry out in his sleep, and when she went to calm the nightmare, she would discover them all in one room, sleeping side by side by side like spoons in a drawer. Since that room was usually Pinch’s, Lily went there next and felt the first stirring of real panic when they were not abed.

  Leaning heavily on the crutch for support as her ankle began to throb, she hobbled to Midge’s room and had her breath stolen by finding none of them there.

  It was a puzzle, but not a particularly difficult one once she calmed herself enough to consider it. The unusual activity, the furtive coming and going of the servants, the occasional thumping that seemed to arise from the bowels of the house and vibrate the inner walls, made Lily suspect she was not the only one aware the scoundrels were absent from their rooms. There was a search under way, and she doubted the boys were assisting in it. More likely, they were the cause of it.

  If it was true that they had taken themselves off, then the responsibility for it was Sheridan’s, and Lily was of no mind to wait until morning to tell him so.

  Backing out of Midge’s room, Lily paused long enough to catch her breath and her balance. She could support herself using one crutch for short distances, but the long walk to Sheridan’s room required that she use two. With this in mind, Lily started out for her own bedchamber.

  She was not yet halfway there when Pipkin and two footmen entered the hall from the servants’ stairs with Pinch and Dash in hand and Midge slung over a shoulder. Pinch and Dash were almost asleep on their feet, but not so unaware of her presence that they didn’t hang their heads as they shuffled past.

  Pipkin gave Dash’s hand over to Tolley and motioned them to keep moving. He offered his arm to Lily. “Should ye be out of bed so soon, Miss Rose? Here, take me arm and I’ll see you back to it.”

  Lily gratefully accepted the support but did not mention her intention to retrieve the other crutch and be on her way again. “Where did you find them?” she aske
d.

  “I didn’t. That was his lordship’s doing.”

  Lily looked at Pipkin askance. “Lord Sheridan participated in the search?”

  “Aye. He led it. I don’t think we would have stumbled across them the whole of this night otherwise.”

  “Why is that?”

  “There’s a passage behind the north wall of the gallery, if ye can credit it, and his lordship pointed it out. It’s a mystery how the young masters knew it was there.”

  It would not be possible to maintain any appreciable anger for Sherry, Lily realized, not after hearing what Pipkin had to say. “The young masters, Pipkin? Is that how you think of them?”

  He rubbed his knobby chin with his knuckles. “Oh, they’re scoundrels right enough, but I see how it is between his lordship and them. He makes it easy to forget they was plucked off the streets, same as yourself, if you’ll forgive me for sayin’ so.”

  She did. “It’s certainly true. We were plucked like weeds.”

  “That’s just it, Miss Rose,” Pipkin said. “Never could put my finger on it before, but you and the lads wasn’t weeds in Holborn, just flowers in the wrong place. You’ve seen his lordship’s garden, so it shouldn’t surprise that he knew it all along.”

  Lily stopped in her tracks and brought Pipkin up short as well.

  “What is it, Miss? Your foot? Do you have need of my shoulder?”

  “Only to cry on.” She gave him a watery smile. “You are a dear man.” He was of a height with her, slightly stooped from years spent on the driver’s box and with a complexion weathered to ruddiness. Lily noticed for the first time how blue his eyes were and, more important, how kind. “A dear, dear man.” She caused him no small amount of embarrassment by kissing him on the cheek. Even his distress was endearing. “Thank you, Mr. Pipkin. I shall treasure your words always.”

  Drawing back, Lily saw the driver’s eyes widen and his distress turn to mortification as his attention was claimed by something farther down the hall. Even before she turned, she knew what she might expect. As it happened, she only knew the half of it, for when she faced front, Sheridan was not alone on the lip of the landing.

  Lady Rivendale was at his side.

  At such a distance it was difficult to know the expression of either, but Lily did not think she was wrong that her ladyship was more amused than her godson. While Pipkin shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other and ducked his head, Lily brought up her chin and made an awkward curtsy to soften what might be seen as impudence.

  “We are interrupting, it seems,” Sherry said, approaching with his godmother on his arm. “Pipkin? Was Miss Rose detaining you?”

  “No, m’lord. I was helping her to her room.”

  “And she was demonstrating her gratitude, no doubt.” He did not glance at Lily. “Are the boys in their rooms?”

  “Aye. The footmen just left.”

  “Then go on.”

  Pipkin made a slight bow, spun on his heel, and was off at a brisk step. As quickly as he moved, he still managed to direct a sorrowful glance Lily’s way.

  Seized by the urge to bang her crutch over Sheridan’s head, Lily’s grip on it whitened because she restrained herself. She could not speak until spoken to, not in the presence of Lady Rivendale, so she suffered the relentless boring of Sheridan’s dark eyes and waited him out, hoping it would occur to him that his response to what he’d witnessed was out of all proportion.

  It was Lady Rivendale, however, who breached the uncomfortable silence. “For heaven’s sake, Sherry, dismiss the girl or make an introduction. You know I cannot abide indecision.”

  He did not respond immediately but darted a glance at his godmother that spoke of impatience for all females. “Very well,” he said finally. “Miss Rose, you will be pleased to meet my godmother, the Countess of Rivendale. Lady Rivendale, Miss Rose, governess and teacher to the scoundrels.”

  Having dreaded this moment since she’d learned the countess meant to visit Granville, Lily was relieved to have it done with. Using the crutch for balance, she managed another curtsy, this one deeper and less awkward than the one that had come before. “My lady,” she murmured. It required some effort not to tug on the cap that covered most of her hair or tuck in the tendrils that had strayed from under it. She withstood Lady Rivendale’s frank appraisal, though it was more difficult than holding her own with Sheridan.

  “How are you called again?” her ladyship asked, directing her question to Lily.

  “Miss Rose, my lady.”

  “Rose. Rose. I do not know the name. Who are your parents?”

  Sherry intervened. “It is late, Aunt. Permit me to escort you to your room.”

  Her eyebrows rose in two perfect arches. “That lacked subtlety, Sherry. If I am not to be allowed to satisfy my curiosity, then I am for bed, and as I am not the one requiring a crutch, I will navigate on my own.” She raised her cheek for Sherry’s kiss, and once he’d complied, she bid him good night.

  Sherry and Lily did not exchange a word while Lady Rivendale’s light footfalls could still be heard in the hallway. When she turned the corner on the landing to the west wing and all was silent again, they spoke at the same time.

  “I hope you mean to explain yourself.”

  That they used the same words might have been cause for amusement; this time it wasn’t. Their expressions mirrored annoyance.

  Sherry inclined his head, indicating Lily could go first. “You were perfectly odious to Mr. Pipkin.”

  “Odious? A less generous employer would dismiss you both.”

  It did not matter that it was true, it was not what Lily wanted to hear from him. “Is that what you mean to do?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then please step down from your high horse.” Her voice dropped to a sibilant whisper. “I merely kissed Mr. Pipkin on the cheek; I let you have me on a desk.”

  Sherry blinked.

  “Or did you think I meant to do the same with him?” When he blinked again, Lily hit him on the side of his leg with her crutch. “If you cannot own that you are harboring some maggot in your upperworks, I shall have to knock it loose and show you the thing myself.” Lily dropped the crutch and hopped once so that she was flush against him. Slightly off balance now, she depended upon Sherry to steady her. He did not disappoint, placing his hands on either side of her waist when her arms rose to his shoulders. She rested her hands at the back of his neck and pressed lightly with her fingertips as she lifted her face to his lowering one.

  She kissed him. Sweetly at first, then with passion. Nothing about it resembled the kiss she had placed on Pipkin’s cheek. This was warm, then warmer, and it did indeed cause Sherry to dismiss everything else from his mind. It did not matter that their embrace was in the hall where anyone might come upon them, and it was equally insignificant that she was standing with most of her weight resting on one of his feet.

  What was of import was the manner in which she held him to her, as though making a claim on him, and the way she turned in his arms, giving him the right to do the same.

  When Lily drew back, it was to gauge the success of her enterprise in the cadence of his breathing and the widening of the dark centers of his eyes. “If that does not convince you of the sincerity of my affections, then I cannot think what might.”

  Sherry could, but he did not ask her to say the words, not when he had to tread so carefully around them himself. “It convinces,” he said instead, his voice husky. “But you are welcome to repeat your argument.”

  She smiled and deliberately trod more heavily upon his foot before hopping off. “You will not turn me from my purpose.”

  “You have another purpose?”

  “It does not involve designs upon your person.”

  “Pity.” Sherry stooped and picked up Lily’s crutch. “Here, put this under your arm before you topple.”

  She accepted the crutch, then his arm, and he led her the rest of the way to her room. “I hope I can secure your pr
omise that when there is cause to discipline the boys you won’t take it all upon your shoulders, then place it on theirs.”

  “Pipkin told you what they did?”

  “No. Not the whole of it. I reasoned most of it out myself when I discovered they were gone. He told me where you found them.” She paused while he opened the door to her bedchamber and released her so she could precede him inside. “You are master here, but you hired me as governess and teacher, and I would only ask that you permit me to perform my duties.”

  Sherry did not fail to notice that Lily was leaning heavily on the crutch, fairly listing to one side. When she tried to right herself, her sprained ankle bore too much weight, causing her to wince. He did not wait to secure her permission but picked her up, knocking the crutch aside, and carried her to the bed. That she did not protest told him clearly how much pain she was in.

  Lily grabbed his forearms when he would have straightened and stepped away from the bed. “Please. May I have your word?”

  “Certainly you shall have it. I did not expect they would banish themselves, Lily.”

  She smiled faintly and released him. “Is that what they called it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I fear they are romantics, my lord. It is the house, I think. They still imagine there will be dragons to slay, and they fancy themselves your knights.”

  Sherry brought forth the missive Dash had penned. “You will want to see this.”

  She held it up to the candlelight and read, then accepted Sherry’s proffered handkerchief to dab at her eyes.

  “It had the same affect on the maid present at the reading,” he said, taking it back. He found the laudanum on the side table and began mixing it with a glass of water. “And my godmother? There is a romantic. She was won over by the notion of dungeons and piranha, although she fought it with considerable gusto.” He helped Lily sit up, then handed her the glass. “All of it.”