A Lady's Addiction (Honor Prevails Book 1) Read online

  “I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.” He bowed deeply, his voice cool as he said, “Good night, Lady Stafford.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anna stood a moment feeling oddly bereft as Devlyn walked away. Dressed in black with a snowy white cravat at his throat, the man drew numerous admiring glances from other women at the ball. He’d pretended to be Franco, slept with her, and he was upset? Perhaps he thought she meant to trap him into marriage and now regretted their intimacy.

  She spied Cecily at the edge of the dance floor fidgeting with the folds of her gown. As she moved to her friend’s side, Anna noticed the other woman’s gaze darted around the ballroom as if searching for someone.

  “Cecily, what is it?”

  “Did Mr. Maitlin speak to you about me?”

  The question struck her as odd. “We talked about dancing.”

  “Is that all? He didn’t say anything about me?”

  “What is wrong, Cecily? Why are you asking me all these questions about our conversation?”

  “I need to speak with you in private,” Cecily answered, her eyes not meeting Anna’s. “Not here. I will tell our hostess that you feel unwell and of course I must see you home.”

  After they located Lady Northampton, Anna stood quietly as Cecily made their excuses to the woman.

  “I am distressed to hear you recently suffered an illness, Lady Stafford. Perhaps you have not quite recovered.” The countess nodded kindly to her. “Do go home and get some rest.”

  “Thank you, Lady Northampton,” she replied, her voice weak. She didn’t like deceiving the woman. “It really is a very lovely ball. Your theme of the British Empire returning to its place in the sun is truly inspired.”

  In the carriage she had a moment to reflect on how easily Cecily had lied to their hostess. “Lady Northampton was extremely sympathetic and gracious.”

  “Oh yes, the countess is a saint. It is unfortunate she gives advice where none is needed.” Cecily sniffed.

  “Did she wrong you in some way?”

  “The woman told me before I married Lord Pickerel that I should not do so. She said he was a cruel man and ill-suited to be anyone’s husband.”

  “You have often said the same yourself,” she replied.

  There followed a short silence. The inside of the coach was nearly dark. Although the carriage drapes were open, very little light from the carriage lanterns reached the interior of the vehicle. She couldn’t see her friend’s face as Cecily sat on the bench across from Anna, her face in shadow.

  “She is so superior with her talk of marrying for love. As if there were any such thing as married love…”

  Anna replied, “It is widely known her marriage is a love match.”

  Silence reigned again and she became irritated. “What did you want to talk to me about? What is so important that you felt the need to deceive our hostess?”

  Cecily did not respond to her questions. The silence between them went on so long they had arrived at Stafford House before Anna asked, “Shall we discuss this inside?”

  “Yes,” Cecily answered shortly.

  Once both women had alighted from the Pickerel carriage Cecily said to her coachman, “Do not take the coach around. I will be inside for only a short while.”

  Cecily declined her offer of refreshment and both women settled in the parlor. Anna took a seat across from her friend as she wanted to observe the other woman face to face. She wondered if she had also been the recipient of Cecily’s propensity to tell white lies.

  “What is the matter with you this evening?” She felt out of sorts herself and tried to concentrate on Cecily and not the sudden craving to find any sort of spirits to drink.

  Her friend looked down at the hands she held clasped in her lap and muttered, “Franco is going to blackmail you.”

  “Blackmail me? How do you know this?”

  “That’s what he does. That is how he makes a living.”

  Cecily looked up. Her gaze was focused not on her friend but at a spot somewhere over Anna’s shoulder. “He forced money from me and now he will do the same to you.”

  “Is that why you introduced me to Franco?” she asked. “So he would leave you alone?”

  Her response was silence.

  It appeared she would have to strong-arm any information she wanted out of her friend. She stared at the woman across from her and looked for tears or any other sign of remorse. Anna thought Cecily only looked sorry she’d had to tell the truth.

  “I gave you the perfect opportunity. I needed a discreet gentleman and you found one for me. I never slept with Franco. He has no hold over me.”

  Cecily continued to stare at nothing.

  “If you needed money why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  Cecily finally turned her gaze to Anna.

  “Franco would never have stopped,” the other woman replied without feeling. “It would have never been enough. He would have told my husband the truth about Andrew and I would have been ruined.”

  “Told the truth about Andrew?” She had an awful feeling where the conversation was headed.

  “Franco is Andrew’s real father.”

  Her friend looked thoroughly beaten. Anna realized the gravity of the other woman’s situation. Once a legitimate heir was produced Cecily could take as many lovers as she wished. If there was a question of legitimacy, Lord Pickerel would likely take Andrew away from Cecily. The man still needed the boy as an heir. In his depraved mind he would have enough justification to punish not only his wife, but an innocent child as well.

  Although Cecily had proven to be quite adept at lying, she could scarce believe her friend had never told her the truth about Andrew’s parentage.

  “When did you last see Franco?” she asked. “Tell me the truth.”

  Cecily looked surprised at her friend’s brusque tone and answered meekly, “Two days ago.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “He told me you hadn’t made the appointment and I told him you did.” Cecily bowed her head. “He saw Devlyn Maitlin leave your room at the inn. I think Franco knows you slept with Maitlin.”

  “What will such knowledge get him? I’m a widow. Very few, if any, would care if I had an affair with an unmarried man.”

  “I think Franco may try to use your feelings for me and Andrew against you.”

  Cecily’s suggestion might be the only one that made any sense. Anna had been discreet about finding a lover. ‘Lady Ice’ could shrug off any small scandal Franco would attempt to bring down on her.

  “Why would he think I would come to your aid?”

  “He knows you are Andrew’s godmother,” Cecily replied. “I told him you wanted his help because you adored my son and longed for one of your own.”

  She could have sworn at that moment. The woman had well and truly mixed her into this business. “Andrew shouldn’t have to pay for your sins. Do you truly not know where Franco lives?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Lady Millicent Cameron, Mr. Maitlin’s sister-in-law, introduced me to Franco. After that first meeting he would contact me to plan our trysts. Franco did tell me he frequents Boodle’s. Perhaps he could be contacted there.”

  She frowned. “Devlyn Maitlin was talking to you about Franco at the ball.”

  “Millicent told him all about Franco.” Cecily snorted. “Quite a family, they are. One brother a cripple, the other infertile.”

  Devlyn was no cripple. “Devlyn Maitlin is infertile?”

  Cecily nodded. “The accident that crippled the older brother also resulted in a groin injury for the younger.”

  She digested the information for a moment. There were more important things the two women needed to discuss. “Will Lady Cameron help us?”

  Cecily raised her head. “Millicent only helps herself. Remember, she led me to Franco.”

  “And are you so very different?” She wanted to shout at her friend. To shake her until the blank look slid from her face. “I have
been your friend, supported you in all things, and now I find out our friendship means so little to you.”

  Cecily rose from her seat and looked to sit beside Anna. “I’m sorry. My only thought was to protect my son.”

  “You thought only of yourself,” she replied, a hand raised to stop the other woman. “Please go now. I will contact you very soon and let you know how I think we should proceed.”

  “But-”

  “I don’t wish to discuss anything else with you,” she said, her voice cold.

  Cecily turned and let herself out of the room. Anna released a deep breath and sat for some time in quiet solitude. Her glance took in the expensive furnishings surrounding her. Stafford House was a gilded cage. She laughed at the image that came to mind.

  “It is a cage of my own making.”

  The news about Devlyn’s injury had come as a shock. She could admit to herself she had already begun to think she had found her future husband. The man who had shown her the heights of passion could not father children.

  She rose from her seat, exited the parlor and walked further down the corridor to the study. Before she realized it, she’d poured a glass of brandy and gulped it down.

  “Oh, my heavens!” She dropped the crystal tumbler she held. The glass hit the wood flooring beneath her feet and shattered.

  She could hear footsteps outside the study door and looked up from the mess on the floor to see Mary and Dinkins standing in the room.

  “Just an accident,” Mary said to the butler and with a wave of her hands shooed the man away.

  Anna hadn’t moved. She was surrounded by small shards of glass.

  “Mary, I can’t do this anymore.”

  The maid picked her way through the glass and took her mistress’s hand.

  “Don’t you dare give up,” the girl replied, her voice and features stern. “You’re stronger than you think, my lady.”

  How easy it would be to just drink the whole bottle of port. Sink back into the oblivion of her old life.

  A laugh bubbled up in her throat. The little maid had come to rescue the formidable Lady Ice. How could she disappoint Mary? How could she disappoint herself?

  She clutched at the girl’s hand.

  “Help me get out of this mess,” she said to Mary, not sure if she meant the glass shards around her or something else.

  Both women tiptoed through the broken glass. Although Anna wore thin dancing slippers, her feet made it to the door of the study unscathed.

  “I told you not to stay up for my return,” she said to the maid as she climbed the main staircase. Mary followed behind.

  “I was in the kitchen talking to Cook and heard the carriage arrive.”

  She didn’t believe the girl for one minute. Mary had been worried about her and had stayed up to keep a watch out for her mistress.

  The maid helped her dress for bed. Despite her large swallow of brandy, the desire for alcohol hadn’t gone away. Mary’s care of her gave her strength. She had to protect Andrew regardless of what she thought of Cecily. Getting herself ape drunk wouldn’t help anyone.

  Tomorrow she would act. Regardless of what Devlyn Maitlin thought of her quest to find a husband, she would warn him Franco did indeed know about their liaison and could cause trouble in the future. Did Devlyn know the whole sorry mess had originated with his sister-in-law? She would speak to Lady Millicent Cameron and do what she could to help keep Andrew safe.

  * * * * *

  Michael hadn’t been invited to the formal ball as his low social standing in the ton rarely dictated such an invitation. No matter. He’d followed Cecily and Lady Stafford to the mansion in Mayfair and had been lucky enough to spy Mr. Maitlin arrive at the ball as well.

  “Excellent,” he said aloud and flicked his cheroot to the pavement. His vantage point across the street from Lord Northampton’s abode afforded him a view of anyone arriving or leaving the ball. “All my chicks are accounted for.”

  Lack of funds prevented him from hiring someone to keep an eye on Maitlin, Cecily or Lady Stafford. Now the countess appeared in better health he would pay her a call on the morrow. He knew Cecily hadn’t disclosed his true motive for wanting to meet Lady Stafford or the women wouldn’t have attended the ball together.

  The note he’d received at Boodle’s yesterday rested in the pocket of his trousers. One hand absentmindedly fingered the expensive paper while he stood watch.

  Michael,

  You must leave England. My brother-in-law is suspicious. It is only a matter of time until you are found out. He will do anything to protect his mother and precious brother and can bring the full weight of the Foreign Office down upon you.

  Yours,

  Millicent

  The stupid woman had become nervous and wanted to scare him away. To use his real name in her missive had been sheer folly. Millicent assured him her husband wouldn’t give a damn at this late date to know the true reason for their marriage and he believed her. Lord Cameron hadn’t been to London since his accident and Millicent’s miscarriage. From all accounts the man despised his wife.

  His brother Devlyn was another matter. He’d returned to the fold. Millicent believed the man cared quite a bit about his family’s reputation. Michael would only pursue that opportunity if he were desperate. Devlyn was an unknown quantity. Publicly thought to be a diplomat, Michael felt more inclined to believe the man had been a spy and quite possibly a dangerous one.

  No, Devlyn Maitlin could wait. Lord Danforth Stafford had been a great bully of a man and any woman married to him would be left with no spine. Lady Stafford would be a vulnerable target, and everyone knew the Stafford’s were as rich as Croesus.

  Cecily and Lady Stafford appeared on the front steps of Northampton’s mansion and subsequently entered a carriage. He waited for the coach to pass by before he turned in the direction of Duke Street. He sauntered toward his rooms with a decided cheeriness.

  “Lady Stafford it is.” He began to whistle. Tomorrow he would approach the woman with his proposition. She would accept his terms and that evening he would celebrate his good fortune by standing the huff at Boodle’s.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stafford House, a large brick mansion in Grosvenor Square, stood before him in all its majesty. The revered location of the house put it heads and tails above Michael’s family home on Guilford Street.

  As if he could go home. His eldest brother inherited the barony and his second brother joined the clergy. He was the youngest. He opted not to take up a profession and had been thrown out on his ear.

  “You have the bit mother put aside for you,” the new baron said to him. “It is time to make your own way in the world.”

  He had made a mess of things as usual. He’d squandered his small inheritance on drink and cards. His dear mother whom he could always twist around his finger was dead. His eldest brother had married and there was no longer room for a younger brother in the small house, or so the new baroness told him.

  His knock on the door of Stafford House was promptly answered. An elderly butler ushered him to a bright and airy parlor. Even to his untrained eye he could tell no expense had been spared in furnishing the room. He noticed a small bird figurine on a round mahogany side table. The item looked valuable. He wondered if anyone would notice if he filched it.

  “So, you are Franco.”

  Michael turned from his contemplation of objects d’art on the table to observe the woman who had entered the room.

  “Lady Stafford,” he said and executed a stiff bow.

  “Do sit down,” the lady replied, her voice brittle. The countess sat on the edge of a chair and motioned him to be seated.

  “Thank you, my lady.” He took a seat across from her. Her height belied her gracefulness. Anna Stafford was very lovely. He regretted missing the opportunity to bed her.

  “I will not offer refreshment as I am on my way out and can only spare a moment of my time.”

  Well, well. Lady Stafford appeared to be
no simpering miss. His desire for the woman ratcheted up a notch. “I will be brief.”

  “Yes?”

  “I know you and Devlyn Maitlin slept together at the inn.”

  She shrugged. “And if we did?”

  “Your brother-in-law has only recently made his way into society.” He shook his head as he feigned a sorrowful look. “It would be unfortunate if his chances were ruined by your wantonness.”

  He had thought her pupils to be merely a non-descript brown. Now he could see topaz chips in them as her gaze sharpened on him and her face flushed with anger. The sound of her quick breaths told him she wasn’t as composed as she appeared.

  “Why did you really come here?” she asked him. “Your information would not cause a scandal and therefore never ruin Lord Stafford’s standing in society as it were.”

  “Pay me two thousand pounds or I shall inform Lord Pickerel he is not Andrew’s father.”

  “Two thousand pounds? I shall think on it.”

  Although he had expected the woman to agree to his terms without delay, he’d prepared for the possibility of her stubbornness.

  “I will wait three days for your answer before I approach you again.” He laughed without mirth and let his gaze roam from her lovely face down to the hem of her skirts and back again. His tastes ran to petite women, not Amazons. Much of his desire for Lady Stafford was a result of his knowledge of her wealth. “I may be willing to take a portion of the funds in trade.”

  “Never,” she replied. Her lip curled. “You are not in the least attractive to me. I would rather sleep with a pig.”

  He held his temper at the disgusted look on her face. “Then I suggest you pay me.”

  “Two thousand pounds is a heavy amount of coin to carry on my person. I imagine you wouldn’t want a note of credit.”

  “A note would be dangerous. I would have to sign for the funds at a bank.” The woman was more intelligent than Cecily and Millicent combined. “I assume you have jewelry. Choose pieces not widely known and of sufficient value that I can exchange them for currency.”

  The lady nodded. Eyebrows raised, she inquired, “What prevents you from asking for more funds at a later date?”