Truly Yours

Chapter Seven

Nanny Brown clutched her heart when she opened Miss Carville's door to see Rex looking as if he'd been run over by an oxcart.

Rex almost had palpitations too, when he saw the gun wavering in the old woman's gnarled fingers.

"My stars!"

"My pistol." Rex still had the mate tucked into his waistband. He gingerly reached out to take the weapon.

Nanny almost dropped it before he had his hands on the barrel. Daniel ducked, behind him.

"Oh, it is not loaded, but I thought it best to keep the thing nearby. My knitting needles are in my pocket and the warming pan is next to my chair."

"You needed a weapon to defend yourself from Miss Carville?" Good grief, had he carelessly left his former nursemaid alone with a homicidal maniac? He'd supposed that the younger woman had a good excuse for shooting Hawley, if she actually did commit the murder. Not that she was liable to murder a frail old woman in her sleep along with the rest of Lady Royce's household.

Rex shuddered to recall his last day in the army, when the same overconfidence in his intuition almost let a troop of French scouts fire on headquarters. He was the only casualty, thank goodness, or he never would have been able to forgive himself. Lud, if something happened to Nanny, he'd be in worse straits. She was not even a soldier.

He should have waited for morning to find his cousin, or left a message at Daniel's rooms. He should have posted guards, or stood sentinel himself. He should have-

Nanny sniffed, then scowled at the odors of cheap ale and fine wine and clucked her tongue. "How much have you been drinking to come up with such a foolish notion? Of course I did not need to fend off Miss Carville. She is a lady, not a criminal. But someone loose in London killed that unfortunate man." She stepped closer and peered up at Rex. "Did he attack you?"

"No, we encountered a spot of trouble at a gaming club, that's all." Rex touched his swollen nose. "A, um, discussion about the dice used."

"It looks broken, which is no more than you deserve, gambling and drinking and brawling, on your first night in London. What will her ladyship think?"

Rex was about to say he did not give a rap for what the countess thought when Nanny caught sight of the large man standing back in the shadows of the hall. She clucked again. "I should have known. Daniel Stamfield, you always were up to no good. From what my sister tells me, you are no better now than the nasty little boy you always were, getting my lamb into trouble."

Instead of taking offense, Daniel laughed and rubbed at his chin. "You always were blind when it came to your favorite. Everyone in Royston knew Rex was the ringleader. You must be the only one who thought he was an angel."

"I'll have you know I still do. Except for the gambling and drinking and brawling, of course."

"And Daniel was never little, Nanny," Rex put in, before he received another scolding.

"No, and he has never been other than a heathen, either. Is it true what my sister says about the night last month when you escorted Lady Royce to Almack's?"

Rex looked back at his cousin in amazement. "You actually went to that pillar of propriety? The place they call the Marriage Mart?"

"I told you, your mother is a strong woman."

Nanny poked at Daniel's chest, but she was too short and stuck her finger in his stomach, grown soft in London's clubs and pubs. "She said you scratched your arse right in front of your aunt's friends and Princess Lieven."

"I warned her that all that gossip and sham politeness made me itchy. It always did, but she insisted. Said I had to have outgrown throwing spots like a high-strung debutante. At least she never bludgeoned me into going again."

Rex was laughing out loud. The wine at Daniel's house might have had something to do with his hilarity, but the thought of his bumbling giant of a cousin among the dainty manners at Almack's cheered him up considerably.

Daniel muttered, too low for Nanny's hearing, "Keep laughing if you want your arm broken, too." To Nanny he said, "I apologized to Aunt Margaret."

"A great deal of good that did. Why, my sister said the poor lady decided to leave for Bath the next day, so she did not have to face any of her acquaintances. Which is why she wasn't in Town to help Miss Carville last week. As for you, Master Jordan, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting into a nasty brawl at your age. Why, you are supposed to be an officer and a gentleman, not sowing wild oats. For that matter, you are supposed to be proving Miss Carville's innocence."

Which reminded Rex of why they were all standing in the hall outside the woman's door. "We have come to see about that very thing, Nanny. Is Miss Carville able to answer a few questions?"

"At this time of night? I should say not. She is fast asleep."

Rex could tell by the red flashes that sweet old Nanny was lying through her false teeth.

"We'll just disturb her rest for a moment."

Nanny crossed her arms in front of her age-flattened chest and barred the door. "You will not come into a gentlewoman's bedroom looking like a prizefighter, the one who lost the bout. You will not come into a proper young lady's chamber at night at all, ever. Now you go on and get that man of yours to do something about your face before you give the poor girl more nightmares in the morning."

With Daniel's words about compromise and marriage echoing in his mind, Rex nodded. "We shall speak with Miss Carville early then. We have a lot to accomplish tomorrow."

The ancient martinet shook her head. "I promised the lass a bath and a hair wash if she has no fever in the morning. That will make her feel better about things. So you'll just have to wait."

"Devil take it, I have to insist."

"Insist all you want, my lord. I do not take orders from you, no matter how much you glare at me. I'm here because you need me, young man, not because I need a salary. Your father made me a generous pension, so mind your tongue."

"Yes, ma'am," Rex answered, stepping back on Daniel's foot to stop his cousin's snicker. "You will tell us when it is convenient to begin trying to prove Miss Carville's innocence. I am certain her clean hair will impress the judges."

Nanny used her pointing finger like a poker to Rex's chest. "And I won't have you dressed like a stable hand in my lady's chamber, either. You tell that valet of yours that, too, unless he's deaf as well as dumb. He refused to listen when I asked for your pistol, so I had to fetch it myself when he was out."

"Out as in out of the house? Or perhaps in the kitchen or the laundry room?"

"How should I know? The fellow does not talk, does he?"

He did when he got his first look at Rex and what he'd done to yet another suit of clothes, to say nothing of his face. "Sacre bleu!" Murchison yelled before he could recall himself, which Rex felt was worth the sore, swollen nose.

"He can speak?" Daniel whispered.

"In French," Rex whispered back, knowing full well that Murchison could hear every word. "But don't tell anyone. We'll have to puzzle that business out, too." Which, Rex reasoned, was fair notice to Murchison that he meant to investigate the gentleman's gentleman. Rex disliked secrets almost as much as he disliked lies.

"He ain't a spy for the Frogs, is he? I told you, I'm out of the espionage business for good."

"I doubt my father would keep on a traitor, but then again, I never considered that Lady Royce would befriend a convict."

"Well, I never thought I'd see you at your mother's house, either, so I guess you can't trust your gut. Except when it's telling you it's hungry."

With his size, Daniel needed far more sustenance than Rex. Hell, he ate enough for two men, and never seemed satisfied.

"Maybe there is some of Nanny's stew left."

There wasn't, but they did find a cured ham in the larder, a tin of biscuits, some fruit preserves, a wheel of cheese, and a bushel of apples.

"I told you your mother sets a fine table," Daniel said between mouthfuls, washed down with a bottle of excellent wine. "Even if it is the kitchen table."

"I saw no reason to stir up the butler and the footman to serve us in the dining room. Do you mind?"

Daniel laughed. "After sharing half a scrawny chicken with you in a sweltering tent, this is heaven. As long as the monster you call a dog does not steal from my plate."

Verity did not need to steal, not with Daniel sliding slices of ham across the boards to where her chin rested on the wooden table.

Rex relaxed and cut off another slice of cheese, pleased his two friends were getting along. He should have known they would, since both were more interested in food than conversation or physical activity.

He was pleased, too, with the meal. Daniel was right: The food did taste better than any Rex had eaten in ages. He ate more than usual, his appetite encouraged by Daniel's enthusiasm. Or else the fight had reinvigorated him. Yes, Rex thought, being hit in the head must have knocked some of the cobwebs out of his skull. Instead of that aimless wandering, that dreary melancholy he'd fallen into, he felt more like himself than he had since being shot. Perhaps better, since he was not interrogating captured soldiers; having the generals press him for faster, more detailed, results; or pretending not to notice the disdain of the other officers.

He could laugh, even, as Daniel and Verity both gazed longingly at the last biscuit, which happened to be on Rex's plate. He ate it.

Lud, a man could not stay in the doldrums with Daniel and a dog around. Besides, now he had a mission, and a partner.

All in all, Rex decided, he'd had a good day, his most productive in months. He found it hard to believe so much had happened-had he truly just arrived in London this morning?-in so short a time. A jailbreak, a scandal, and a bar fight, plus finding out that his cousin had been banned from Almack's. The day was almost perfect, especially if one did not consider the sins of ogling an unconscious female or lusting after a helpless woman in his care.

Maybe he should get into brawls more often.

Her hero was a drunken brawler? His cousin was a social pariah, a troublemaker since birth, and a gambler? Amanda had heard every word between Nanny Brown and the gentlemen through the open door. Now she could not hold back her tears.

When she'd woken from her stupor to find herself at Royce House, she began to think she had a chance of living until her next birthday. She would not have made next week in prison. Why should she struggle to survive there, anyway? They were only going to hang her. The formal conviction appeared irrelevant.

At her godmother's home she'd felt a spark of hope, a tiny glimmer of optimism. Lord Rexford had seemed so competent, so confident, she had to believe he would rescue her. That flicker of faith was doused by the cold wind of reality. No one was going to be able to save her, especially not a ruffian and his unmannered kin.

She had no money, no friends or relations to call on. Only an old woman with an unloaded pistol stood as her defender. Why, she had to sleep in a borrowed nightgown. Amanda wiped her eyes with the corner of the sheet. She did not even have a handkerchief. Perhaps she'd go to the gibbet tripping over one of the countess's old frocks.

What was the point of waiting for them to hang her? She eyed the window of her room, but knew that shrubberies surrounded the entire house, thick enough to break a fall. The bottle of laudanum? She had no idea how much was needed. If Nanny Brown brought the pistol back…

The coward's way out? Yes.

A sin? Yes.

But it would be proof of her guilt, too. That's what everyone would believe, anyway. Lord Rexford would look like a fool for coming to her aid. He had come, though, so she supposed she owed him better than that.

He should have left her in that wretched cell. She'd been so close to escaping it all there, so distant from her misery, almost in her parents' arms. Now she was suffering worse, because he'd thrown her a life preserver. Her ship was sinking and sharks were circling, but she'd grabbed hold with both hands. Now the rope was fraying, and the viscount was not going to bring her to shore. She'd have done better letting the waves wash over her. Hope was gone. Hope was a demon, a devil, a cheat.

When Nanny came back into the room she found Miss Carville curled into a ball, sobbing.

"There, lambie. He'll fix it, I know he will."

Amanda looked up, checking for the pistol. "He's drunk."

"Pooh. He's a gentlemen fresh come to Town, seeing his best friend after months. I doubt they have been apart so long since their crib days. And he has burdens of his own to carry. But the boy I knew is good at heart. And nearly as wise as his father. Tonight's nonsense is nothing to fret over. You'll see."

"No," Amanda said with a sniff and another sob. "There is nothing he can do. And why should he put himself to the trouble? I am nothing to him."

Nanny handed her a handkerchief. "He will help because he is an honorable gentleman. And because his mother asked, that's why."

Amanda blew her nose and asked, "He does not like her much, does he?"

"He has his reasons, and none of them for us to discuss. It was sad times for all of the family. I doubt any of them will ever recover, but that doesn't mean his lordship won't do his duty. He served the country proud, no matter what anyone says. And that oversized oaf Daniel wouldn't hurt a fly, unless someone threatens his friends. Close as brothers they always were. Where one was in trouble, the other'd be there, too." Nanny sat by Amanda's bedside and took up her knitting. "Why, the stories I could tell about those two rapscallions."

Amanda envied the cousins that closeness. She was too much older than her stepsister to be friends, and was more of an unpaid companion to Elaine these last five years. Thanks to Sir Frederick's penny-pinching ways, Amanda had never gone to school or had a proper come-out, where she might have met girls her own age. Elaine had not even sent her a note in jail, much less a change of clothes or a coin to purchase better treatment. Amanda started weeping again.

Nanny was going on about her favorite topic, it seemed, while her knitting needles clacked. "Master Jordan was a good boy, as smart as could be. And the best rider in the shire. The best swordsman, later, too. I know he must be bothered, limping that way. But he'll be as steady as a rock. And that clodpoll cousin will prop him up if he falters, never you fear. They are good men, both of them."

If they were all she had, Amanda thought, heaven help her.

Nanny poured more laudanum and Amanda swallowed it gladly.