Whisper To Me of Love Page 7

  Pip did appear beguilingly innocent as she stood there, an appealing smile on her soft lips, her small body half-hidden by the ill-fitting clothes, the visor of her black cap pulled low on her forehead, hiding the too old gray eyes. She had the look of a little lost waif, and as the seconds spun out, a flicker of doubt was seen in some of the eyes that stared at her.

  But Royce wasn’t the least bit fooled, and seeing that his friends were wavering, he snorted and, in one swift movement, reached into Pip’s pocket and withdrew his watch and the seal as well as a silk handkerchief, which George fumingly identified as his own. Whatever doubt may have been engendered by Pip’s innocent air was immediately banished.

  But Pip was not without resources, and pushing back the cap with her free hand, she opened her eyes very wide and said in tones of amazement, “Well, bugger me blind! Where the ’ell did those come from?”

  Torn between the desire to laugh at this outrageous scamp’s antics and a strong desire to box his ears, Royce transferred his hold to the collar of the green jacket and contented himself with giving the little devil a brief shake. “And that will be enough out of you!” he said with just a suspicion of a laugh in his voice.

  Pip heard the note of laughter and wiggled around to stare up in astonishment at the tall, tawny-haired gentleman. It had been her observation that most people would have been furious in this situation, but the American seemed, for some incomprehensible reason, to have found something amusing about being robbed!

  For as long as she lived, Pip would never forget the sudden leap her heart gave the instant her eyes fell upon Royce Manchester’s hard, handsome face. He was not the handsomest man she had ever seen before, his features too broadly defined to be considered classically handsome, and yet there was something so commanding, so striking, about that lean-planed face, the high cheekbones and unyielding jaw, that Pip was conscious of a shiver of excitement sliding down her spine. For the first time in her entire life, she was suddenly aware of a man in a way that startled and confused her. The full mouth above that very formidable chin was elegantly chiseled, and the arrogant nose with the slightly flaring nostrils only added to the powerful impact his features made upon her. But it was his eyes, those thickly lashed, compelling topaz eyes and their heavy black brows, that made her breath catch in her throat. Tiger eyes, she thought half-hysterically, and steeled herself to stand as unflinching as possible beneath their bright examining gaze.

  Staring down into the upturned face of his little thief, Royce suddenly frowned, realizing that there was something very familiar about the boy. And yet ... Almost absently, Royce pushed the cloth cap farther off the boy’s face. A wealth of grimy black, curly hair was exposed to his contemplative stare, and for the first time he got a clear view of those distinctively arched black brows and unforgettable gray eyes. Now, where, Royce wondered scowlingly, have I seen a face like this before?

  “Having trouble, are we, Manchester?” inquired a hatefully silky voice.

  Lifting his gaze from the boy’s face, Royce looked at the speaker, who had just strolled up. It was the Earl of St. Audries, and he was flanked by his two cronies, Stafford and Wetherly. It was obvious that they had come not to help but to gloat, and Royce felt a stab of irritation. Not now, he thought irascibly; I am in no mood to fence with you, you sarcastic bastard! But then, as he stared into the Earl’s cat-shaped gray eyes, he sucked in his breath as realization dawned. I know precisely where I’ve seen this boy’s features before, he admitted grimly to himself, and I’m staring at them right this very moment!

  Ever eager to seize any opportunity that might arise, Pip twisted around in the direction of the new voice, hoping that she might be able to take advantage of this unexpected encounter. But her heart sank as her eyes fell upon the trio of elegantly attired gentlemen who had just walked up. Despite the slight hint of animosity that she had detected in the speaker’s voice, it was apparent that they were not going to help her! Her agile brain busy with seeking a way, any way, out of her current dilemma, after the first cursory glance at the three gentlemen, she started to look away when something about the taller of the three men caught her attention.

  The Earl of St. Audries was a tall, slender man nearing fifty years of age. Like Newell, he was undeniably a credit to his tailor, his form-fitting coat of maroon cloth clinging lovingly to his shoulders, and his buff-colored breeches displaying admirably the muscled length of his long legs. He carried a slim walking stick and, unlike most of the others, was hatless.

  Perhaps it was the lack of a hat that caused Pip to take a second, longer look at the Earl, and when she did, she gasped and stiffened. In stunned disbelief she stared openmouthed at the Earl’s carefully arranged black curls—curls very like her own—but it was the strikingly arrogant arch of the black eyebrows above his exotically shaped smoky gray eyes that held her frozen with shock.

  Pip had often wondered what her father had looked like, had often wondered if she resembled him at all, for her features bore no similarity to Jane’s. And now, when she least expected it, she discovered that the features she stared at every morning were merely a younger, softer near mirror image of the slim, elegant gentleman standing in front of her!

  CHAPTER 4

  Pip’s soft gasp had not gone unnoticed by Royce, nor the stiffening in the small body, and almost the instant he realized that his young thief could be none other than a bastard child of the Earl of St. Audries, he also understood the significance of the child’s reaction. Until this precise moment, the boy had never known that his father had to have been this man standing in front of him—how else could one explain the little street rat possessing those unmistakable Devlin eyes?

  Not quite able to believe what she was seeing, hungrily Pip cataloged every feature of the Earl’s dark, haughty face. The shapes of their faces were not exactly alike, nor were their mouths and noses literally duplicated, but those brows and eyes ... Those brows and eyes marked her as having this man’s blood in her veins, and there was no doubt in Pip’s mind that this man was her father. Giddy as she was with that knowledge, for an instant the gravity of her situation disappeared and she choked back a half-hysterical giggle as she envisioned the gentleman’s reaction if she were to suddenly fling herself onto his chest and exclaim, “Father! I have searched everywhere for you! Don’t you recognize me? I am your daughter!”

  Staring at the aloof, disdainful features, she got the decided impression that the gentleman would not be pleased! In fact, as the first shock wore off and she began to study him more objectively, noting the sulky mouth and chilly expression in the gray eyes, she came to the conclusion that she didn’t think she would care to know the man any better than she did at this moment. He looked to be an arrogant, cold-blooded fellow, and almost unconsciously she pressed nearer to Royce, as if seeking to repudiate any connection between them.

  The Earl, intent upon baiting the American, had not paid the least heed to the grubby street urchin in Royce’s grasp, and when Royce had remained silent, the Earl murmured, “Have you decided to consort with the lower orders? Perhaps you feel more comfortable in their company?”

  Royce smiled, not a very nice smile. “Well, their manners are certainly better than some I could name.”

  The Earl’s face darkened and he stepped forward aggressively, but George Ponteby, ever the peacemaker, spoke up quickly. “It is the most amazing thing, Stephen—Royce here caught this little beggar stealing from us. Imagine that!”

  The small pickpocket held captive by Royce’s firm hold on the collar of the green jacket suddenly became the focus of all eyes. Ever after, Royce wondered precisely what prompted him to casually pull the black cap down low on the boy’s face, effectively concealing his resemblance to the Earl before anyone else could notice it. Had he been trying to avoid an embarrassing scene? Or ... or had he known instinctively that the boy needed protection ... that the child’s life might very well be in grave danger if his relationship to the Earl was perceived by others?r />
  “A thief, eh?” said Wetherly, his dark eyes sweeping over Pip’s small figure. “What do you intend to do with him?”

  It was a question that only moments before Royce could have answered without hesitation; but now, in light of what he suspected, he found himself reluctant to simply turn the boy over to the watch. Yet what else was he to do? He could hardly shove the boy at the Earl and say, “Don’t you think you ought to do something?” Somehow he didn’t think that the Earl would appreciate having a bastard child suddenly thrust upon him. So what was he to do? Turn the wretched little devil loose to rob again?

  As Royce hesitated, one of the two tough-looking young men who had approached about the same time as the Earl and his companions spoke up. “We’d be ’appy to ’elp you, sir. We can turn the bloody little bloke over to the watch for you. Be ’appy too! Save you the trouble, it would.”

  Royce glanced at the two young men, noting their hard young faces and the odd eagerness of their manner. It was their very eagerness that aroused his suspicion—they were just a little too keen in their professed desire to help. Both men looked to be in their early twenties, although it was difficult to tell; the rough life they lived had left its inevitable mark on their faces and they could have been much younger than they appeared. No fool, Royce guessed immediately that they were probably the pickpocket’s companions, and the wary stillness, the almost bated breath of his captive, gave the game away. Smiling grimly, Royce replied, “Thank you very kindly for your generous offer, but I’ll see to it myself.”

  Pip’s heart sank and surreptitiously she sent Jacko a look of half bravado, half fright. It seemed that, unless Jacko and Ben acted fast, she would find herself in Newgate very soon.

  “Seems a pity to turn over such a young creature to the mercy of the watch,” drawled a new voice, and undaunted, Pip glanced around hopefully.

  It had been the Earl’s other companion, Rufe Stafford, who had spoken. “Being an American, you wouldn’t know the fate that will probably await our young thief here. More than likely the boy will hang. And all because he dared to steal a few trinkets from you.” His gaze lifting to meet Royce’s eyes, he added with a note of censure, “It seems rather unfair—the boy was probably only stealing to put food in his belly, while you would never miss the items he had taken, and yet he will very likely lose his life over the incident.”

  “Perhaps you would like to see to the boy’s welfare?” Royce asked sarcastically. “Since you seem to have his best interests at heart, am I to understand that you wish to take responsibility for him?”

  Stafford’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it! I was merely pointing out what his fate might be.”

  Newell, who had been standing next to Royce, entered the conversation at that point. “It does seem a shame that the boy should hang for such a minor offense. After all, you did get your belongings back.”

  There were some murmurs of assent from the various other gentlemen gathered around, and George Ponteby said uncertainly, “Er, it does seem a bit extreme for the little fellow to suffer such a grievous fate. He’s a mere child.”

  Speculation gleaming in her gray eyes, Pip looked optimistically from one well-dressed gentleman to another, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. Who could understand the gentry? She had been caught red-handed, yet these wealthy, aristocratic gentlemen actually seemed to care about what happened to her, and if she was lucky, she might yet escape a trip to Newgate. Unconsciously the beginnings of a cocky little grin twitched at the corner of her mouth.

  “I see,” Royce said slowly. “It is the consensus that I should let the boy go?”

  Pip was very nearly openly grinning at this point, and she stood a little straighter, certain that she would go free.

  “Hmm, I don’t know about that,” George admitted unhappily. “If you let him go, he’ll just rob someone else.”

  Royce had found this sudden concern over the fate of one small London thief amusing up to this point, but his patience was wearing thin, and with more than a little exasperation evident in his voice, he demanded, “Then what in God’s name do you suggest I do? Adopt him and introduce him into my household? Remove him from the temptation of evil?”

  George brightened. “Oh, I say, Royce, what a splendid idea!”

  Pip didn’t think it was a splendid idea at all and sent a black look in George’s direction. Why couldn’t he keep his bloody mouth shut?

  But the idea, once proposed, seemed to catch the fancy of several of the other gentlemen. Even Francis Atwater, another of George’s friends, who had remained silent up until now, spoke up. “You know, that is not such a ridiculous idea. Perhaps if you were to find him honest employment, it would be the making of him.”

  In growing disbelief Royce stared at his friends. They couldn’t really expect him to take this filthy little devil into his household, could they? From the encouraging expressions on several of the faces, it was obvious that his companions expected him to do precisely that! Feeling decidedly beleaguered, Royce glanced around, hoping to find an avenue of escape from what was rapidly becoming an extremely sticky situation. He certainly didn’t want to see the boy hanged, but on the other hand, he was not, he thought grimly, about to have the thieving bastard son of the Earl of St. Audries foisted off on him!

  “Of course,” Martin Wetherly said suddenly, “if you don’t want to see the boy hanged and you don’t want to take on the responsibility for him yourself, you could simply let him go. As someone pointed out—you have retrieved your belongings. You could just cry quits.”

  But George was having none of this. His blue eyes very earnest, he said quickly, “Oh, no. That would never do! The little fellow would probably continue to thieve and would end up in Newgate anyway. No. No. We must think of something else.” George was an extremely amiable gentleman, but until this moment, Royce had forgotten one particularly irritating trait of George’s—once he got an idea into his head, there was no swaying him from it. And George, it appeared, had decided to embark on a crusade, the hapless pickpocket inadvertently becoming the object of his good intentions.

  The light of a social redeemer glinting in his eyes, George said firmly, “You should take him home, Royce. Find something for him to do in your household. See to it that the boy is removed from his usual criminal haunts. Train him to be a footman or the like. You are such a clever fellow, I’m sure you could think of something.”

  Royce was rather fond of George in a vague fashion, but at this very moment his thoughts about his cousin were definitely not affectionate and he nearly groaned out loud when, once again, several of the other gentlemen joined in, seconding George’s suggestion. But worse was to come. Zachary, of all people, suddenly said warmly, “You know, Royce, George is right. You can’t want the boy to hang, and you can’t just let him go on thieving either. Why not see if the butler or the cook can’t make use of him?”

  Royce made a face, and sending Zachary a dark look, he growled, “Et tu, Brute?”

  Zachary smiled sunnily at him. “Yes, I’m afraid that I side with George in this matter. Think of it as a good deed.”

  Royce still might have found a way to escape being saddled with a “good deed” that he certainly didn’t want if the Earl hadn’t spoken up just then. A sneer in his voice, the Earl remarked to no one in particular, “Oh, my! How very droll! Our visiting American is going to take it upon himself to teach the little guttersnipe some manners. This should prove most amusing! Rather like the kettle calling the pot black, don’t you think?”

  Apparently only Stafford and Wetherly found the snide comment amusing, the other gentlemen, George and his friends, closing ranks behind Royce, the expressions on their faces revealing their distaste for the Earl’s words. Fighting to keep a grip on his temper, Royce narrowed his eyes, and his hand tightened on Pip’s collar. For one long, dangerous moment, he seriously considered calling out the Earl. He would have liked nothing better than to meet the Earl on the duelin
g field, and if the man persisted in baiting him this way, sooner or later they would end up settling their differences in the time-honored way—pistols at twenty paces!

  Fortunately, before Royce’s temper got the better of him and he challenged the Earl to a duel, George gave a nervous laugh and defused the increasingly tense situation by saying lightly, “Hmm, yes, that might be true, except my cousin is more of a silver-plated kettle, wouldn’t you say?”

  Francis Atwater instantly followed his lead, and looking at the Earl, he said with a titter, “Oh, my, yes! Especially since he won that enormous wager from you, I would most definitely say silver-plated!”

  For a moment it looked as if the Earl would continue with his offensive behavior, but seeing that Royce’s friends were determined to deflect his malevolent remarks, he gave it up for the time being. Smiling nastily, he bowed and murmured, “As you say. But luck will not always be on his side.”

  Royce would have liked to mention that it was talent, not luck, that had enabled him to best the Earl so far, but George must have read the intent in his eyes, for he promptly and very painfully trod on Royce’s booted foot. Royce muffled a yelp and glared at George. But George was too busy speeding the Earl and his friends on their way to pay Royce any further heed. Smiling sweetly at the Earl, George murmured, “Yes. Yes. You are entirely right. If you will excuse me now, we must be on our way.”

  “What about the boy?” asked Wetherly.

  “Oh, my, yes, the boy!” exclaimed George fussily. “Don’t give him another thought!” Smiling angelically at Royce, he said happily, “Royce will see to him.”

  Recognizing defeat when it faced him, Royce put on a very good face of it. “Yes, I intend to take the boy home with me and see if we can’t convince him that honesty and hard work are far more profitable than thievery,” he said blandly. He glanced down at the filthy little creature in his hold and muttered, “I’m sure that after a bath and a change of clothes, one would not recognize him.” He added dryly, “Whether he can be convinced not to rob me blind as I sleep helplessly in my bed remains to be seen!”