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

  “There is no woman in that room. Let us speak with the landlord.” He’d be damned if he let the bounder anywhere near Anna.

  “I must have my information wrong,” the other man replied, dropping the accent. He took another step backwards, turned on his heel and walked to the head of the staircase leading down to the main floor of the inn. He paused to look back and Devlyn moved to follow him.

  A quick look at his pocket-watch showed the time to be nearly one in the morning. The only occupants in the taproom downstairs were the innkeeper and a man at a table in the corner with his head pillowed on his arms. Loud snores indicated the man slept.

  Devlyn took a seat at a table near the stairs. The innkeeper spared barely a glance for Franco and hurried over to where Devlyn sat.

  “Ale,” he answered to the tavern owner’s inquiry.

  After the innkeeper rushed off, Devlyn returned his attention to Franco. The reprobate hesitated by the front door of the inn and didn’t appear taken in by Devlyn’s relaxed pose. He assumed that might have something to do with the intent look he directed at Franco.

  The other man must have decided there was no sport to be had this evening for he opened the large oak door beside him and stepped out into the night.

  “Who was that man?” he asked the proprietor of the inn after a tankard had been placed before him on the scarred mahogany table. A hasty swig of the ale proved it to be palatable.

  The innkeeper scratched his balding head. “Not right sure. Must have come in when I was helping the missus in the kitchen.” His eyes settled a moment on the sleeping man in the corner of the room. “Not worth asking Jones. He’s been asleep for some time.”

  “That will be all I require this evening.” A coin released the man.

  Drink in hand, Devlyn rose from his seat, walked to the other side of the room and glanced out of one of the tall mullioned windows. The light from a single lantern in the livery poured into the empty stable yard. Franco emerged from the stable, leading a horse. He looked toward the inn for a brief instant, mounted his horse and rode off at a gallop.

  Devlyn released the breath he hadn’t realized he held. The real Franco had been dealt with. He would get some sleep. In the morning he would find out what connection the delectable Anna had with Lady Pickerel.

  * * * * *

  The ride from The Bell and Swan Inn at Bixley to his rooms in Duke Street provided Michael with plenty of time to think. The only person besides himself who knew Michael Bradley and Franco were one and the same was Millicent Cameron. He knew the man he’d seen at the inn had some connection to Millicent. Michael remembered seeing the man before. It had been a few years ago…

  “Devlyn Maitlin!” His horse gave a start before it continued at the trot he’d slowed his mount to once he was well out of sight of the inn. “He’s Millicent’s brother-in-law.”

  Had Millicent sent Maitlin to thwart his plans? No, she wouldn’t dare. The woman was in this as deep as he. She’d found him the exquisite Lady Pickerel after all. Cecily Pickerel had given him all the funds she could lay her hands on. In desperation to keep her secrets, the woman offered her friend, Lady Anna Stafford, as his next quarry.

  His meeting Devlyn Maitlin could be a mere coincidence. He would contact Lady Pickerel before he involved Millicent. The Stafford chit might have changed her mind about their little tête-à-tête. If so, he had to find a new source of income before the moneylenders found him.

  The third son of a baron, he was virtually destitute and lived on the fringes of society. He’d met Millicent when they were both young and seduced the girl with little effort. The attention she lacked from her family she’d sought from him.

  “Easy boy,” he said to his mount when the horse came to an abrupt halt. A small animal ran across the road in the near darkness. He coaxed his mount ahead once more. The horse was borrowed as was most everything of value in his life. “Your master wouldn’t take kindly to my returning you lame.”

  He hadn’t been able to afford to hire a coach to Bixley. By the time his friend Edward returned home from an evening of carousing and Michael could borrow a mount, he was late for his appointment with Lady Stafford. His thin coat did little to keep out the chill of the night air. The only luck he’d found that evening resulted in a full moon to help light his way back to London.

  His thoughts returned to the matter at hand. When he became involved with Lady Pickerel he’d had no idea of the extent of her husband’s influence. It was his good fortune the lady wasn’t aware of how easily her husband could crush her ex-lover if he became aware of their affair.

  Lady Millicent Cameron was another matter. Her personal knowledge of Michael and his activities could be a problem in the future. His desire for the woman had faded long ago. The small amount of blunt he coaxed from her now and again didn’t outweigh the threat she posed to him. He needed to know why Devlyn Maitlin had crossed his path. After that, he would decide if Millicent had outlived her usefulness.

  Chapter Three

  Anna awoke with a start. The candles on the dresser had burned down to pools of wax. From the faint light she spied through the lone window in the room, she guessed the dawn would soon break.

  She’d slept alone. Had she dreamed up Franco? Her head felt a little fuzzy from the wine; an often occurrence due to her habit of imbibing a liberal amount of alcohol each evening.

  No, Franco had been real. She could smell remnants of his spicy cologne in the room. Her attempt at drowning her embarrassment at his rejection of her with the bottle of wine on the table had resulted in her losing consciousness.

  The sun would soon be up. The other guests of the inn would stir. She must be on her way back to London. There was no time to wonder where Franco had gone. And why should she care? Their meeting last night had been a simple business transaction.

  Her day clothes rested on one corner of the dresser. She donned her clothing as fast as she could without the help of her maid, Mary. Last night the girl had slipped downstairs to sleep in the carriage in order for Anna to proceed with her assignation. Mary would be guarded by Anna’s coachman. She had seen the way her maid was wont to ogle the handsome servant and wasn’t sure which one of them needed protection.

  She was unaccustomed to dressing her own hair so there was nothing for it but to simply gather her hair together in a twisted rope and shove the mess under her bonnet. Her hairpins were scattered about on the floor and she picked them up. She preferred to leave no trace of her having visited the inn.

  Carrying a satchel which now held her nightclothes, she nearly knocked over the small table where the now empty wine bottle lay on its side, empty. The bottle rolled a short distance, before coming to rest next to a coin. All the coins were still there. They had been intended to pay Franco and were now a reminder of her failure last night.

  A cock crowed. She could sort out the consequences of her failed rendezvous later. Right now, she must be on her way back to Stafford House.

  The only resident of the taproom was the innkeeper’s wife. She pressed the coins from the table upstairs into the woman’s hand and exited the building. A cool breeze hurried her steps to her late husband’s chaise.

  The carriage stood ready and Mary waited beside it. “Good morning, my lady. Your business is finished?”

  Anna felt warmth on her cheeks. “Yes, Mary, my business is most decidedly finished.”

  Some minutes later, she turned her attention from the passing scenery outside her window to the maid seated across from her.

  She’d decided against taking her shiny new town carriage to Bixley. Lavishly appointed on the inside, the black coach had the Stafford coat-of-arms emblazoned on the outside in bright red paint. In contrast, the nondescript faded yellow chaise she now rode in resembled many other coaches and would not attract undue attention.

  Her maid rode inside the carriage with her as she would take no chances someone might recognize the girl. The coachman was dressed all in black instead of the customary St
afford livery.

  Mary had fallen asleep immediately upon taking a seat in the chaise. Anna couldn’t rest comfortably in her husband’s old coach. The cost of anonymity came with creaky, poorly sprung squabs.

  The trip back to London would take but an hour. She needed to think about what to do next. Her appointment hadn’t been a total disaster. The interlude with Franco did prove she could be receptive, even responsive, to a man’s lovemaking.

  But could she be receptive without the aid of spirits? She wondered if Franco would really seek her out or if she would have to contact him through Cecily. She normally didn’t start drinking until evening. If she could meet with him before that time of day perhaps they would continue their lovemaking.

  For a moment she thought about her decision to find a husband. She had been free to do as she wished since Danforth’s death. Marrying again would change all that. Although she must admit she’d done little with her freedom other than hide in Stafford House and drink.

  Anna was accustomed to very modest company and had little joy in her life. Cecily lived for her son. Surely a child would give Anna something to live for.

  Mary opened her eyes and Anna gave the girl a brief smile.

  “Thank you for your assistance in Bixley,” she said to the maid.

  “If it is in my power to help you, my lady, you know I will.” Mary spoke the words solemnly, as one would an oath.

  In the six months Mary had been in the Stafford household, she’d proven to be a loyal and very capable lady’s maid. The young woman had accompanied her mistress to Bixley and never looked a question as to why.

  “I cannot tell you about my appointment last night. I will say it has given me reason to hope I will marry again and have children.”

  Mary smiled. “My lady, my greatest wish is for you to find a husband to love you and give you many children to spoil.”

  Anna would be content with the children part of the statement. Orphaned at four years old, she’d been passed between an uncle who despised women and two maiden aunts, never knowing a real family. Danforth had certainly never offered her love.

  She had been witness to the love between a mother and a child. Goodness knows she’d seen the torment Cecily endured in her marriage in order to remain a part of her son Andrew’s life. Every time Anna held the boy, she vowed she would have a child of her own, someone who would love her without condition as she would love him.

  Anna spoke her next thoughts aloud, “I must see Lady Pickerel when we return to London. With her help I shall begin looking for a husband.”

  * * * * *

  The door to Anna’s room stood open. Devlyn glanced in to see a chamber maid occupied with making up the bed with fresh linen. Although he paused only a moment, it was evidently long enough to attract the young woman’s notice.

  “Sir? You be needing something?”

  “No, thank you,” he replied, his mind elsewhere. “Good day.”

  Blast! Maybe he would find Anna downstairs enjoying breakfast. His man had woken him at six o’clock, surely early enough to catch the woman abed, or so he’d thought.

  Devlyn didn’t stumble on Anna in either the private parlor or the taproom. He couldn’t ask after her without arousing the curiosity of the innkeeper. However, his valet Wiggins could accomplish the task for him.

  He’d finished a large breakfast of ham and eggs and enjoyed a last cup of coffee when Wiggins found him in the private parlor.

  “The only woman who occupied a room in the inn last evening was a Mrs. Jane Smythe,” the valet said. “Sounds like a false name to me.”

  He nodded in agreement. Wiggins had good instincts and he trusted him. The man had been recommended to him after Devlyn arrived in Austria to take up his assignment as an interpreter at the Congress of Vienna. Wiggins remained in his employ when Devlyn took his next post at The Hague. The valet had been an invaluable asset overseas.

  Wiggins often discovered intimate information about a foreign diplomat via servant gossip. Through his charming of housemaids, his valet had unearthed more than one ambassador’s potentially embarrassing skeleton.

  Anna. He recalled the taste and smell of her skin. Last night had been quite a welcome home to England. He’d done the honorable thing by not taking advantage of the woman. She was probably unused to spirits in heavy quantity. When he made love to her he wanted all her senses engaged in the task.

  “Sir?”

  His valet stood near the parlor door with a bemused expression on his face. Devlyn hadn’t explained to the man why he needed to know about any female guests at the inn. Wiggins was far too smart for his own good and Devlyn didn’t care to clarify why he’d been caught woolgathering.

  Memories of his tryst with Anna were put away. His mother had written to inform him his sister-in-law and Lady Pickerel were involved in something unsavory. It followed that Lady Pickerel’s friend Anna might be involved as well. No matter the woman had appeared vulnerable, he couldn’t trust her. If he’d met her while in the Netherlands and she’d been associated with any threat to England he would have taken her. In her cups or not, he would have seduced all the information he wanted from the woman.

  He was no longer on the Continent. He was home now. His family had faced enough tragedy. He would protect his mother and brother and be damned to anyone who stood in the way.

  Chapter Four

  Devlyn hadn’t set foot in his family’s London townhouse, affectionately nicknamed ‘The Grange,’ in three years. The appearance of the entry hall hadn’t changed. The heavy aroma of his mother’s lilac perfume still hung about the house like cobwebs.

  The butler, a man he’d never seen before, had taken his greatcoat and hat when Devlyn heard a muffled squeal from the landing above.

  “Devlyn! Oh, my boy, you’re home!” His mother, a petite redhead, hurried down the stairs. Her little pug, Dashy, descended beside his mistress, barking all the way.

  He stole a quick glance at the butler. The servant bit his lip and looked away. He had the impression the man would like to chuckle at the sight of his mistress fussing over her youngest son.

  When his mother reached the bottom of the stairs she nodded at the butler in a regal manner as if her recent outburst had never occurred.

  “Shush, Dashy,” the dowager said. The little dog quieted, although he wriggled in delight at seeing an old playmate.

  With a sigh, Devlyn scooped the pug up and submitted to the subsequent licking of his face.

  “We require tea in my parlor.” The dowager viscountess returned to a formal tone of voice when addressing the butler. “Come along, Devlyn.”

  He put the little dog back on the floor and followed his mother down a corridor.

  Once seated next to her son on a settee in the blue parlor his mother said, “We won’t be disturbed. Millicent knows this room is my particular domain.”

  “I can’t imagine my sister-in-law would rise so early. I didn’t expect to see you before nuncheon.”

  “You’re correct. Millicent doesn’t normally come downstairs until early afternoon. As for myself, as I grow older I find I need less sleep.”

  The requisite tea tray arrived.

  “You knew I would come?” His accompanying smile was a mere twist of the lips.

  “It was time,” his mother replied simply. “You couldn’t punish yourself forever.”

  He opened his mouth to reply and thought better of it. She had the right of it, after all. His mother poured the tea and he remained silent. He felt all of ten years old again, the need to please his parent warring with the desire to go his own way.

  “I will admit to some worry you might bring a foreign bride home with you,” his mother said between sips of tea. “It would have been most inconvenient. I do not speak Dutch and only a small amount of French.”

  “I thought your greatest desire in life was to see your sons settled?” He made light of the subject rather than remind his mother of the reason he would most likely never marry.
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br />   “You need an English wife.”

  Again, he chose not to say what he thought. His brother had married a proper Englishwoman and the union was a disaster.

  “I need to speak with Cameron,” he said with the aim of changing the subject from the discussion of marriage.

  “Your brother isn’t here, Devlyn.” Her face lost some of its earlier animation. “He still hides himself at the estate in Kent.”

  With little enthusiasm he asked, “And Millicent?”

  “She makes her home here. I do not see her often as she is usually occupied in one frivolous activity or another.” His mother rarely had a negative thing to say about anyone, her one exception being Cameron’s wife.

  The dowager poured a small amount of cream onto a saucer and placed it on the floor for Dashy to noisily drink.

  “How is Cam, mother?”

  “I don’t recognize him anymore, Devlyn. My happy, carefree son has gone away. I do not think he will return.” She stared into her teacup. “I lost both my sons that day in Kent.”

  The guilt he harbored had become an old friend. Something he lived with every day. Both brothers sustained injuries in the accident. Cameron wouldn’t have attempted to pass the other coach without his brother daring him to.

  “I am so sorry, mother.”

  The dowager looked up, reached out, and patted his hand.

  “My only regret is that I may never have grandchildren.”

  He hid the pain her words brought him. “The injury Cam sustained was to his leg, mother.”

  “Millicent has not been a true wife to your brother since the accident.” She paused and added in a low voice, “When Cameron refused to return to London they had a horrible row in front of the staff. I could hear her shouting at him, telling him he could stay in the country alone. She would not… She could never lie with a cripple.”

  He pulled his mother close to his side and let her cling to him. She’d been so strong when his father died ten years ago. He knew she believed her prayers were answered when her eldest son married. One senseless prank had taken so much happiness away from their family.