Georgina Devon – Betrayal (страница 11)

Dev grunted. ‘You’re right, Pippen, but all of us have got in the habit of protecting her from the harsh things of life—if we can.’

His words brought a rush of warmth to Pippa’s heart. Would she have been so protective of her mother, had her mother not died birthing her? The question brought back all the old guilt over being the death of her mother and the determination to atone for that deed. Even though no one had ever blamed her for her mother’s death, Pippa had occasionally blamed herself. She knew death in childbed was common and that her mother’s demise was not her fault, but still her mother’s death was the reason Pippa had first wanted to learn midwifery and later medicine. She wanted to help others and hopefully prevent parents from dying and leaving behind their children.

She shook her head to clear it of the old memory. A long time had passed since she had last had these thoughts. They were probably brought on by watching Dev with his mother. That the two loved each other was obvious. That she was getting maudlin was even more obvious. She needed to go to her own room and do exactly what she was telling Dev to do—rest.

Resisting the urge to smooth the hair back from his forehead, Pippa stepped away from the bed and packed her herbal bag. ‘He should be fine now.’

‘Thank you, Pippen,’ the Duchess of Rundell said, coming over and taking Pippa’s hands. ‘I will never be able to thank you enough.’

Pippa felt awkward and embarrassed. She didn’t want anyone’s gratitude. She just wanted…She glanced at Dev and saw his roguish grin. She just wanted things she had never wanted before, things she couldn’t have. Not now.

‘You don’t need to thank me.’ Pippa gently pulled her fingers from the Duchess’s grasp. ‘I am glad I could help Dev.’ She stepped back. ‘If you will excuse me, I am very tired.’

‘Of course, child,’ the Duchess said. ‘Sleep as late as you need.’

‘Sweet dreams,’ Dev added, his hazel eyes twinkling with devilry.

And what type of dreams did he expect her to have? Pippa thought sourly as she made her way back to her room. As far as Dev was concerned, she was a young man who couldn’t even grow a beard. She knew from living with her twin that not being able to grow facial hair was tantamount to being a baby.

Pippa closed her door behind herself and looked around the room she had been given. It was masculine in its simplicity. A large oak four-poster bed took up the centre while a matching armoire hogged one entire wall. A Turkey rug covered most of the wood floor, and blue drapes that echoed one of the rug’s colours hung from the high ceiling to puddle fashionably.

What would Dev do if he knew she was a girl, and her room at home was done in peaches and soft greens? He would be scandalized. If she was unmasked, she would be beyond redemption. Dev’s liking would turn into loathing. It was a thought she could not bear to contemplate for long.

Deverell St Simon’s admiration and friendship meant too much. To lose them would be unbearable.

Chapter Four

Pippa shifted the very fashionable hat she had just bought to cover her too short hair. Then, with a determined tread, she pushed open the bank’s door and entered the cool interior. The sprig muslin morning gown that would have been better for a good ironing left her arms and much of her neck bare to gooseflesh.

She had packed the gown, reticule and kid slippers in her portmanteau for just this occasion, and had had a devilish time of it keeping the women’s clothes hidden. The Duchess of Rundell had assigned a maid to put her clothes up, and Pippa had had to shoo the girl out any number of times, telling her she had already unpacked.

Her letter of introduction that would allow her to draw funds on her father’s account was in her reticule. Nearly all the money she had brought with her from England was spent and tomorrow Dev was taking her to meet Wellington. From there she would continue her search for her brother, and that would require more blunt.

The use of blunt, a cant word Philip had taught her, brought a smile to her lips. She would find her brother. She would.

‘Pardon—’ a French-accented woman’s voice intruded on Pippa’s vow ‘—but have we met before?’

Wariness tightened the muscles between Pippa’s shoulders as she turned to face the speaker. The Marchioness of Witherspoon stood not less than two feet away, studying Pippa like a naturalist studies a bug pinned to a specimen tray. The Frenchwoman must have noticed the similarity between Pippa and Pippen from the hospital.

A shiver skated down Pippa’s spine as she forced a smile. ‘I don’t believe so. I would have surely remembered if we had.’ She made a slight curtsy and tried to edge around the woman. The sooner she was away, the sooner the Marchioness would forget the memory.

‘Non, non,’ the Marchioness said, her small white hand shooting out and coming to rest on Pippa’s arm. ‘Do not run, chérie. I mean you no harm, only…’ Her head cocked to one side and her blue eyes studied Pippa. ‘I could swear I have seen you before. In Brussels, perhaps?’

Pippa shook her head. ‘No, milady. We have never met.’ She moved her arm so that the woman’s hand fell away. It was like having a chain opened. ‘Excuse me, but I have an appointment.’ That was not the truth, but she hoped to soon have an appointment.

Before the Marchioness could detain her further, Pippa spurted forward. The last thing she needed was for someone to penetrate her disguise.

Even as her palms turned clammy at the possible ruin, an image of Dev as she had left him formed in her mind. Her step slowed and her gaze saw nothing in the bank. For the first time since she’d met him, Dev had been dressed to go out, his tall, lean form shown to advantage by buff-coloured buckskins that fit his legs to perfection and a bottle-green coat of superfine that showed his broad shoulders to advantage. Smudge-free Hessians had hidden the scars on his right leg—not that they mattered to her. She sighed.

Would he find her attractive dressed as a woman? She berated herself immediately.

Whether Dev would be interested in her was not an issue. Deverell St Simon was not her reason for being here. Nor would he want to be, considering how she was flaunting the conventions of their society. Best to put all thought of him from her mind.

Suiting action to thought, Pippa presented her letter of introduction to a clerk. While she waited, she watched the people around her. To her surprise, the Marchioness was still on the premises. She seemed to be depositing a large sum of money which was causing a stir with the young man taking it.

Briefly, Pippa wondered why the woman would be depositing money when the normal course of action for an Englishman or woman while in a foreign country was to draw on their British bank. Before she could dwell long on the problem, she was approached by another clerk and escorted to a large desk where the bank manager smiled benignly at her.

The Marchioness’s actions quickly slipped her mind as she concentrated on her transaction.

Her task done, Pippa retraced her footsteps to the small closet in the hospital where she had stashed her boy’s clothing. It was a matter of minutes before Pippen emerged, carrying a wicker basket, the letter of introduction safe in the breast pocket of the jacket. Her first instinct was to dump the basket and revealing clothes in the nearest heap of trash.

It had been safe to bring the dress with her and keep it in her portmanteau until she had moved into the Duchess of Rundell’s town house, where servants were constantly cleaning and straightening her belongings. The dress would have to go. The letter of introduction was much easier to hide and irreplaceable. She could always buy another dress.

On her way out of the hospital, she saw a woman kneeling by one of the patients. From the threadbare look of the woman’s dress it was obvious she didn’t have much money. Yet love shone from her eyes as she gazed at the man whose head lay in the pillow of her lap. Tears tracked down the woman’s cheeks even as happiness made her face glow.

‘Hush, darling,’ she said. ‘All that matters is that you are alive. I love you no matter what.’

Using the only hand he had left, the soldier gathered his love’s fingers to his lips. Moisture blurred Pippa’s vision. Another couple weathering the horror of war.

Without another thought, Pippa crammed a pound note into the basket and edged toward them. Unobtrusively, she set the wicker container beside the woman and slipped away.

Outside, the August heat quickly evaporated the moisture from Pippa’s eyes. The sunshine was golden and warm on her skin, easing the tightness in her chest. The brisk walk to the town house lifted her spirits.

‘Master Pippen,’ the butler said, bowing her into the house. ‘Her Grace wishes your presence in the morning room.’

Pippa grinned at Michaels. Since moving here, she and the old retainer had become fast friends. Michaels had taken her under his wing and endeavoured to remind her of the proper behavior for a young man of Quality, as he did the Duchess when she failed to do the proper thing. Pippa would be sorry to leave him.