Page 49 of The Devil to Pay

“No, indeed, I only…” But she had turned on her heel and stalked off without another word. “Good night, Mrs Harris. It was pleasant talking to you,” he said quietly, shaking his head.

Turning, he carried on to the parlour, which was one of the few comfortable rooms in the house. He felt weary to his bones, having spent the day sorting through an attic room which seemed to have been used as a dumping ground for odds and ends of furniture and paintings and things which his late and unlamented aunt had decided needed to be put out of her sight. It wasn’t a job he felt he could leave to the servants, who might end up throwing some priceless antique or family heirloom onto the bonfire that burned almost constantly around the place as he reclaimed it from the wilderness.

It was a dirty and wearing job and he still felt dusty and grimy, despite having given himself a thorough scrub. The only bright spot in his day had been taking Ottilie out for a ride on the pony he had bought for her. Seeing her face light up had filled him with joy, and determination enough to go back to the dusty mess in the attic and get the job done. There had been another highlight, he realised as he crossed the freezing cold entrance hall. Discovering that Jules had finally got his comeuppance and fallen hard for Miss Davenport, of all females, had been priceless. The poor idiot hadn’t even realised it.

Pip chuckled and then frowned as movement outside caught his eye. He walked to the window, peering out into the moonlight.

Opening the front door, he stepped out into the night, unsurprised to discover the temperature did not differ from inside the hall and was merely a little windier.

“What the devil are you playing at?” he demanded, watching Jules trudge up the weed-ridden driveway, shoulders hunched against the cold, his hands thrust into his coat pockets. “What have you done with the carriage?”

“Need to send someone over there with a note for the driver,” he said tersely. “Well, don’t stand there, let me in. I’m frozen to the marrow, and I need a drink.”

Bewildered, but prepared to be entertained—Jules’ disasters were usually good for a laugh—he followed his friend into the parlour and poured two glasses of brandy. Jules was standing in front of the fire, holding his hands out to the flames.

“Well, what have you done now?” Pip demanded, handing Jules his drink and settling himself down in his favourite chair.

Jules favoured him with a baleful glare and sipped his drink. “Among other things, I begged Miss Davenport to let me court her. I was sprawled on my back on the floor of her carriage at the time… and not for any interesting reasons, I assure you. I think the pathetic nature of the pose may be the only thing in my favour. She might take pity on me and allow me a chance if I’m lucky,” he said with a snort.

Pip gave a choked laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. “Lord, Jules. How do you do it?”

“It’s a gift,” he said morosely. He set the glass down on the mantelpiece and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it over the back of the chair before sitting down. “She thinks I’m a loose screw. That I’m from a different world and the moment I return to London, I’ll forget all about her, or that my parents will make me see sense.”

“Well, she has a point,” Pip said, not unkindly. “You’re hardly noted for your fidelity. You fall in and out of love so fast I don’t have time to learn the girl’s name before there’s a new one on your arm.”

Jules let out a huff of laughter. “That wasn’t love, that was lust. This is different. This is serious,” he said quietly. “And I’m going back to London, likely about to become the centre of the biggest scandal in decades. Bearing in mind she thinks my title is a decided mark against me, how do you think that will make me look as a candidate for her hand?” he asked, and with such a despondent tone, Pip realised it really was serious.

Jules wasn’t playing at this. He meant to have Davenport for his wife.

“I think that if she cares for you, she will stand by you. After all, this happened before you even met her. If you can prove to her you’ve grown up, that you want to settle down and make a life with her, then you’ll win the lady’s hand.”

Jules returned a wry smile and raised his glass. “Thanks, Ashburton. I needed to hear that.”

Pip nodded and mirrored the gesture. “Anytime, Blackstone, and best of luck. I don’t doubt that you’re going to need it.”

Chapter 17

Thorn,

How are you? Have you been keeping an eye on Cat? How does she fare? I’ve asked her to come and stay but I think it had better wait until the weather improves. Lord, does it never stop raining here?

Jules has been staying with me for a while, but he left a few days ago. Yes, he knows about Ottilie now, not that I invited him. The devil turned up like a bad penny in his usual airy fashion. You’ll never believe what he’s got himself into this time.

Anyway, the truth is, I’m a tad blue devilled. I don’t suppose you fancy coming to stay for a bit and getting your hands dirty? I could do with the company.

―Excerpt of a letter to The Right Hon’ble Mr Thomas Barrington from his older brother The Right Hon’ble Phillip Barrington, The Earl of Ashburton (sons of The Most Hon’ble Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu)

“Darling!”

Though he knew it would not last, Jules’ spirits lifted as his mother hurried across the cosy environs of her private parlour to greet him, hugging him tightly.

“Oh, I am so happy to see you. But… Jules, you’ve lost weight. Have you been eating properly and look at the state of your hands! Whatever have you been up to?”

The duchess glared up at him, scrutinising his face as though she could read the answers there.

“I’ve been up staying with Ashburton in that pile of rubble he’s insisting on living in. I got a good deal of exercise whilst I was there and did a bit of work about the place to help out,” he added vaguely, not about to tell her of his foray into the life of a gardener. Not yet, at least.

“Oh, dear Pip. How is he? Matilda is so worried about him. She’s been begging Montagu to let her go to him but he’s adamant that they shan’t stir a foot in his direction until they are invited.”