Chapter Seven

That was far too close.

Swallowing down his panic, Daniel whipped out a kerchief and mopped the slowly cooling sweat from his brow as the carriage lurched into motion. Had he known his old friend Reverend Willerton had been assigned to this church, he wouldn’t have ventured within a mile of it. Willerton hadn’t recognized him, thank Heaven—from the moment he’d realized his mistake, Daniel had mostly kept his head down.

But though he’d evaded Willerton’s notice, others had certainly paid him mind. Such had been his goal, of course, but the intensity of their observation had still unnerved him. It was as if the devil himself had entered their hallowed place of worship.

Thanks to his brother’s loose-lipped servant, London had been ablaze with tales of Devlin’s suspected turn toward reformation since Saturday afternoon—nothing spread faster than juicy gossip!—and no one he’d encountered seemed to know how to handle it. The gentlemen eyed him as if they feared some contagion. Others, mainly marriage-minded mamas and their daughters, looked on him with speculative eagerness. These, he assiduously avoided.

As for Miss St. Peters, well, “Devlin” had just shown himself to be anything but the sort of man she wanted. Witnessing his desperate prayer for the Lord’s mercy upon finding himself in Willerton’s congregation could only have reinforced this impression.

Regarding Lovelace, the solution had come to him as he’d observed the wretch watching Miss St. Peters the way a wolf watches a lamb. Ending her infatuation with Devlin, not to mention snuffing out his own attraction to her, was a priority, but Lovelace was an immediate danger that couldn’t be ignored.

There was only one way he could solve all three problems at once.

It was pure providence that he’d picked that church for this morning’s performance. He’d thought St. Peters and his daughter would attend a much larger house of worship closer to their residence. Now, thanks to that blessed blunder, he had the perfect excuse to get closer to her and make sure Lovelace kept his distance.

A grim smile twisted his mouth. Miss St. Peters was about to become Devlin Wayward’s special friend and confidante along “his journey to redemption.” By the time he was done, she’d be glad to see the back of him and Lovelace would be thwarted.

…

Three days later…

There she is! Alone at last, sipping punch by the doors to the terrace, stood his quarry. Knowing he was about to deliberately fly into the spider’s web, Daniel braced himself. “Miss St. Peters?”

Pink lips curved, and the dimples in her cheeks flickered. “Lord Devlin, what a pleasant surprise. I did not think you enjoyed musicales.”

The confidence in her manner—just a shade shy of smugness—affirmed his suspicion that she’d assumed herself the cause of his sudden turn toward piety. “I don’t, actually. Which is why I arrived late. I only came because I knew you would be here, and I wondered if you might be willing to help me with something,” he began, his manner as sober as, well, a priest’s.

He watched as triumph warred with curiosity in her eyes. “Of course. What may I do for you, my lord?”

Glancing warily at the other partygoers nearby, he made a show of discomfort. “The music will begin again soon, and I don’t wish to disturb the others’ enjoyment. Could we perhaps find somewhere else to discuss the matter?”

The predatory look she gave him would’ve been terrifying if he hadn’t expected it. “Indeed. I believe Lord Hartley has an indoor statuary in the room adjacent.”

Offering his arm, he guided her through the crush and into the quieter, though thankfully not entirely unoccupied, statuary. They meandered between the various pieces until he found a relatively private corner. Turning to face her, he let his natural unease show and then proceeded to lie industriously.

“Miss St. Peters, as you know, I recently returned from visiting my family over the holiday,” he began, watching her self-satisfaction melt away. “What you may not know is that it was the first time I had done so since being banished and cut off.”

That bit of news certainly managed to erase any and all remaining smugness from her demeanor!

So, she was unaware of our familial discord. I wonder if her father knows? Such a thing wouldn’t matter to a former pirate, of course—but it might very well matter to a father whose daughter was interested in such a man. He took her silence as encouragement to continue.

“My older brother lifted my banishment when he inherited, but out of shame, I declined his invitation for nearly a year after receiving the news. One of the others, my younger brother Daniel, finally convinced me to accept, so I went home this Christmas. Most of us were reconciled during my visit, but not all.”

He looked down at his shoes. “My baby sister Diana…” A knot formed in his throat. He hated this, hated using his sister’s name in a falsehood, but there was no other choice, really. Not if he was to succeed. “We were once very close, but no more. Daniel informed me that once, in a fit of pique, she told him she’d never forgive me for selfishly abandoning our family. He, being a peacemaker, tried to bring us together over the holiday, but she refused to…” He trailed off, as if it pained him too deeply to go further.

A small hand tentatively rested upon his sleeve. “I’m sure, if you give her time—”

“She won’t,” he cut in flatly, keeping his gaze trained on the floor as disconcerting tingles radiated from the point of contact. Focus! “I tried to explain myself, to make her understand it was not out of coldness that I did not maintain contact over my absence, but to protect her. She would not even hear me.”

“You did not want her reputation tainted by association,” she murmured wonderingly.

He nodded. “I may be a right selfish bastard,” he said, forcing the ugly word out of his mouth, “but at least I cared enough not to wish to drag her good name into the cesspit with mine. Even so, ever since my visit, I cannot stop thinking about it or craving her pardon. I…” Reaching up, he pinched the bridge of his nose for dramatic effect. “I’m sorry. Please accept my apologies—I-I should not be burdening you with my pr—”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Miss St. Peters softly, squeezing his arm a little. “You poor thing! That’s why you were in church Sunday, was it not?”

“Indeed,” he said, doing his best to ignore her grip and the distracting sensations it was causing. “It weighs heavily on my heart.” Now comes the tricky part… As if it were being forced out of him, he continued: “When I returned to London, I expected to simply resume my life, pick up where I left off.” He pressed his lips together briefly and nodded a friendly greeting at a passing couple. Then, lowering his voice, “But nothing felt the same. Nothing felt right anymore. I cannot stop thinking about Diana and what my brother said to me.”

“What did he say?” she breathed, barely audible.

Looking up, he saw her eyes were as wide as saucers. She’s taken the bait. “He adjured me to seek forgiveness and to mend my ways. I laughed it off, of course. We both went to seminary, but while he hung upon his teachers’ every word, I was never one to buy into the rhetoric.”

Her brows collided, her hand dropped, and she all but squeaked, “You went to seminary?”

Daniel allowed himself a smile. “I can see where you might find that difficult to believe, but it’s quite true. It was my father’s wish that I join the clergy. Danny, who always followed wherever I led when we were younger, insisted on going with me. Seeing that he was not needed at home, our mother persuaded Father to allow it. We both graduated with honors, but our paths diverged when I declined ordination.”

It took a great deal of effort not to laugh at the way her jaw dropped at this revelation. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help noting that even undignified, open-mouthed astonishment was incapable of making her appear less desirable.

Since she was, apparently, robbed of speech entirely, he went on. “Unlike my brother, I did not feel called to serve. After Father threw me out over his disappointment, I took myself off to London and vowed never to set foot over Winterbourne’s threshold as long as he lived—or ever enter another church.”

“Well, I’m glad you broke both of those promises,” she said softly. “Did you not find any help in prayer?”

“I prayed as I had not done since watching my mother waste away.” The emotion these words evoked was very real. Like all of his siblings, he’d prayed for a miracle, but Heaven’s answer had been no. Unlike Devlin, who’d only been able to feel anger at the “unfairness” of it, he’d sought to understand and in doing so had come to find peace. Now he spoke as Devlin, who’d never made peace with their mother’s death, would’ve done: “I prayed for guidance. And just as it was denied me then, it has been denied me now.”

Fisting his hands, he fixed his face in a thunderous scowl and prepared to lay it on thick. “I wish I’d never gone back. Had I not done so, I would not now feel this…discontentment. I liked my life before!” he rasped. “But now drink offers no solace and my riches bring me no comfort. Every time I see a beautiful woman, all I can think of is the sort of men my sister will encounter as she enters London Society—blackguards, like me.”

The pink bow of her lips formed a little O of surprise before she seemed to regain composure. “I think you judge yourself far too harshly. After all, a true blackguard has no conscience, whereas you clearly possess one or you would not be so troubled.”

It was the easiest thing in the world to adopt his brother’s most cynical sneer at this statement. “You are young and naive. You know nothing of men like me—and believe me when I say you don’t want to know.” Before she could deny it, he lifted his chin and plunged on. “I’m sure this is nothing more than a passing gloom. I’m sorry to have troubled you. Good evening.”

Turning, he made to leave, but her hand shot out to again grab his arm. “Let me help you,” she whispered, sympathy shining in her eyes as she moved into his path and gazed up at him.

“It’s pointless, Miss St. Peters,” he said, his voice suddenly gone genuinely, inexplicably hoarse. “I know not how to mend what has been broken, and you, with so little experience in this world, know even less than I.” Gently, he began to pull away. “I plan to be more discreet for Diana’s sake, as I have no wish to damage her prospects, but the rift between us is irreparable. She’ll never forgive me.”

“Don’t say that,” she adjured, gripping him harder. “There is always hope!”

“Not for someone like me,” he said, turning his face away dramatically. “Hope requires faith, and I have none.”

“You have not lost all faith or you would not have prayed,” she insisted, peering up at him. “Sometimes the answer comes but we don’t comprehend it until later. You must give yourself time to understand Heaven’s intent for—”

“I don’t need to understand,” he cut in, deliberately making his voice harsher. “I need to cleanse my reputation—without jeopardizing my livelihood. Enough so that an association with me won’t damage my sister’s good name. And I need to somehow earn her forgiveness. I’ll have no peace without it.”

Her face brightened. “I can help you! After all, I possess a woman’s understanding of how she must feel.”

The trap sprung, he “conceded” with feigned hesitancy. “You…would do that? For me?”

“Of course,” she said, her manner suddenly demure—which he knew to be a sham. “Do not friends help one another?”

Friends. Ha! “I’ve hardly been a friend to you,” he replied drily. “The very moment we met, I insulted you, and I’ve not done much better since.”

“Nonsense.” She chuckled, dismissing it with a wave. “It was an honest misunderstanding, forgiven at once, and you’ve been a perfect gentleman ever since.”

There was a wry edge to her tone on that last bit, and he almost laughed. I hope you’re prepared for more disappointment, madam, because “a perfect gentleman” is what I’ll continue to be. “Then…I shall defer to your feminine wisdom in this matter. Tell me, what must I do to regain my sister’s affection and good regard?”

…

He came to me for personal advice! Olivia could hardly believe her good fortune. It was precisely the opportunity for which she’d been waiting since the day they’d met.

It was a relief to know the cause of his unrest was not some old amour or, worse, a new one that was not herself. But the battlefield appeared clear of any serious rivals, which meant the prize was hers for the taking—if she could bag it.

Patience. Rushing now will benefit nothing. The man had the look of a hunted creature ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. One misstep, and he’d be gone and her chance forever lost.

She gave him a tentative smile. “From what I’ve gathered—you’ll pardon me for having overheard the gossip about Town—you’ve already begun making inroads toward that end.”

He tilted his head a little, squinting. “Gossip? I’ve hardly been out of the house. What gossip can there possibly be concerning me?”

Oh, Olivia! Do be careful! There was no need to feign awkwardness. “Well, it’s being said that since your return you have eschewed certain entertainments and that you have elected to, ah…redecorate your home. People are saying you are on the path to reformation.”

His expression shifted to one of grim acceptance. “Ah. The wagging tongues of idle servants are to blame for it, then. You’re referring to those paintings.” His lip curled. “I assure you that had nothing to do with me wanting to walk the straight and narrow.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, and she knew she was as red as a beet. But he seemed not to notice. “May I ask then what inspired their removal?”

“I was expecting a visit from my stepmother and thought she might not appreciate them, so for her sake I had them taken to the attic,” he explained. “A few days before she was set to arrive, I received a letter telling me she was ill and could not come—worry not, it was merely a cold. Seeing as the sight of my former lovers fails to bring me pleasure anymore, I decided to leave them out of sight.”

“I see,” she said, doing her best not to sound sour at the mention of his many former paramours. “And what of the rumor that your box at the Golden has been empty every night since your return? Papa told me you are a lover of music. Surely you have not lost your appetite for it, too?”

“No indeed, I have not,” he said with another dry half smile. “I have, however, lost my appetite for a certain opera singer—the only reason for which I maintained a box at that particular theater.”

So the rumors about that were true, then. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her face had caught fire. Affecting as non-judgmental a smile as she could muster, she went on. “I understand that unattached gentlemen often find such…entertainments diverting. A night at the opera is perfectly acceptable; however, if you are to remove the blemishes from your reputation, you will indeed need to refrain from fraternizing with its…employees.”

He had the good grace to look embarrassed, and she felt a pang of sympathy—which was immediately squashed. She couldn’t afford to be soft in this area. Not when she was looking to make him into proper husband material. “To reinstate your good name, you must henceforth attend events properly accompanied.”

“You mean chaperoned,” he replied with undisguised rancor. “Am I a debutante or a gentleman of independent means?”

“For the purposes of—we’ll call it ‘our little experiment’—perhaps you should consider yourself a debutante of sorts,” she shot back, arching a brow. “Like a debutante, you’ll want to avoid having any unseemly rumors attached to your name. Contrariwise, you will want people to speak well of you. Gossip can be one’s worst enemy or one’s best friend.”

His befuddled look in the wake of this statement was endearing.

“Rebuilding your reputation won’t be easy,” she continued. “But, as I said, you’re already moving in the right direction. Your chivalrous rescue of me at the Latham party serves as a perfect example. My dearest friend told me people talked of it for days afterward.”

A rescue. Now there’s a thought! If I can somehow manage to make everyone see him as a dashing defender of damsels in distress, perhaps Papa will “forget” his tarnished reputation… But not yet. Perhaps after things have progressed a bit further and—

“That’s all good and well,” he said, breaking her reverie. He let out a sigh heavy-laden with melancholy. “But I’m afraid nothing can ever wash away the stain of my disgrace.”

“Oh, many families boast a black sheep or two,” she soothed, lowering her voice again as another couple sauntered by. “And yours has already accepted you back into the fold.”

“Indeed, but few know it, and it does not erase the fact that I was once cast out and remain disinherited. I receive no support from the dukedom—and nor do I desire any.”

The emotions stirring in his deep blue eyes were complex and plucked at her heartstrings. “Papa says you created your own wealth from practically nothing, which is more than many gentlemen can boast. Money, old or new, spends the same. I doubt anyone would—”

“It’s not about the money, Miss St. Peters,” he said softly. “It is widely known that in his righteous wrath my father struck my birth entry from the family bible. Before his death, it was even rumored that he was moving to obtain a Writ of Parliament to officially disown me. Drake never followed through after he inherited, and neither will David, but even so, such black marks are indelibly inked upon the pages of Society’s memory. The scandal will forever cling to my—”

“Olivia?”

Damn! And just as things were beginning to progress nicely, too! “Hello, Papa,” she said, putting on a bright smile as she turned to face her approaching parent. “Lord Devlin and I were admiring Hartley’s fine collection of sculptures.”

One lifted brow told her what he thought of that. “I see. Lord Devlin,” he said, nodding at the other man before again turning to her. “Olivia, your friend, Miss Wright, was worried when you did not return after the intermission.”

It was a bald-faced lie; with Torrington present tonight, Angela didn’t care a fig for her whereabouts. What is he playing at? First he wants me to stay away, then he wants me to dance with the man and make a show of being friendly, and now he wants…what?

Annoyance flared. “Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed, dramatically pressing a hand to her bosom as she glared daggers at her father. “I’m so terribly sorry to have caused her any discomfort. I shall go at once and reassure her.”

Her father’s mouth twitched, and a spark of amusement lit in his eyes. “You do that, my dear. Lord Devlin and I have a business matter to discuss, after which I shall return him to you.”

Inwardly seething, she dropped a curtsy and withdrew, wishing Fate would make up her bloody mind. The perfect opportunity had dropped into her lap, only to be yanked away just as things were getting good! Returning to the music room, she sat beside Angela who, as expected, barely spared her a glance, her attention riveted on Torrington.

If I cannot be with Devlin finding every chink and crevice in his armor, then I’ll use the time to plan out my next foray.

But marshaling her wits after his shocking revelation was easier said than done.

The man had attended seminary. To become a clergyman. She tried to picture him in a cassock and clerical collar and had to stifle a giggle.

Angela cast her an askance look.

Olivia responded by mouthing an apology and the word “later.” A clergyman! She couldn’t imagine Lord Devlin Wayward standing behind a pulpit in unadorned crow’s black, preaching about morality or reciting the beatitudes. It was so utterly ridiculous that she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing again.

Most “spares” would’ve been grateful to be handed so easy a living rather than being sent off to sea or something equally laborious and danger-ridden. What had stopped him from accepting ordainment when he’d known it would very likely result in his father’s wrath and, at the least, his yearly allowance being cut off?

Like so many others piling up in the back of her mind, it was a question for later.

The conundrum of the rift with his sister was what she’d been asked to help solve. It was a testament to the heart that lay buried beneath the devil-may-care exterior that he felt keenly the divide between them.

If possible, of course she would help, but if it happened to draw them closer to each other, well, she wouldn’t complain.