Page 83 of Miss Determined
By virtue of supreme self-restraint, Trevor left Purvis smirking in his office.
ChapterEighteen
“Mama, Trevor has to be told.” Lissa had changed from her riding habit to a modest day dress and was ready to beat a path to her intended’s door. “Neither he nor I want Miss Brompton’s ruin on our conscience, and the threat to her is all too real.”
Lissa left the next part unsaid: If Purvis could ruin Hecate Brompton, who was possessed of both wealth and a spotless reputation, and bring down a young couple in line for an earldom, he’d cheerfully go after Trevor as well.
Perhaps the DeWitts had fallen beneath Purvis’s notice as targets for slander—and perhaps not.
Mama collected the latest pile of invitations from the foyer’s sideboard, not even glancing at them.
“But you mustn’t be seen rapping on his lordship’s door, Lissa. His knocker will still be swaddled in black crepe, and a caller who is not family will be remarked. That assumes his staff would even admit you.”
“They will admit me.” Lissa chose the bonnet with the pink ribbons. “I will make a commotion that would shame the devil if they think—”
Footfalls on the steps that led below stairs silenced her. The housekeeper, escorting none other than Trevor, Lord Tavistock, ascended to the foyer.
“Beg pardon, ma’am, but this gent showed up at the back door.” She passed over an embossed card and gave Trevor a skeptical glance.
His lordship looked delectable and deadly serious in subdued mourning attire. His jacket sported a black armband, and his hatband was black as well.
His expression was none too cheerful either. “I apologize for my unorthodox arrival. If I might have a moment of Miss DeWitt’s time?”
“Of course.” Lissa excused the housekeeper with a nod. “Is something amiss?”
Mama took Lissa’s bonnet. “You will stay for tea, young man. If you are thumping on our garden door at this hour and looking so thunderous, you will stay for tea. Lissa, cease gawping long enough to take the man’s hat.”
Trevor passed over the designated article as Mama bustled off after the housekeeper.
“Mrs. DeWitt is quite on her mettle,” Trevor said, handing Lissa his walking stick. A substantial article of gleaming mahogany that would serve well as a cosh. “I cannot say the same for myself.”
“You’ve sacked Purvis?”
“I have not.” He took Lissa’s cloak from her shoulders and draped it on a peg behind the porter’s nook. “I don’t know as I can, but I’m determined to try. The situation has grown complicated.”
“Because you are to marry Hecate Brompton, else ruin shall befall her, you, her cousins, assorted Dornings, and, if Purvis is feeling rambunctious, likely the DeWitts too.”
“How in blazes could you know that?”
“Not here,” Lissa said, taking Trevor’s hand. “Mama will leave us some privacy.” She led him to the family parlor, not the fussy temple to social aspirations reserved for formal callers.
Grandmama’s workbasket sat open by the window. Caroline’s latest acquisition from Hatchards lay on a sofa cushion, a green ribbon marking her place. Diana’s slippers peeked out from beneath a reading chair, and the household ledger—Lissa’s intended project for the morning—waited on the mantel.
“First things first,” Trevor said when Lissa had closed the door, but for a few inches. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “I have so much to tell you, but…”
She kissed him, tasting that determination he’d alluded to earlier, and something else. Something fierce and angry and bold.
“Better,” Trevor muttered, giving her another squeeze, then stepping back. “Purvis is viler and more ambitious than I’d suspected. How did you come to be so well informed regarding his schemes?”
Lissa took a seat in the middle of the sofa. “I met Hecate Brompton in the park this morning. She felt I was owed a warning that the man she’d seen kissing me yesterday was soon to offer for her.”
Trevor took the place beside Lissa. “Miss Brompton is in error, but she is at risk of ruin, as are my Dorning connections. More to the point, if I corner Purvis, and he has the least inkling that we are courting, he’ll turn his sights on you. My father earned Purvis’s ire by flirting with the man’s sister, but Purvis sees ill usage in every passing carriage. He excuses his own criminal actions as an effort to right the scales of justice.”
“Areyouat risk of ruin?”
“Most assuredly. Do you mind?”
Trevor had put the question casually, though Lissa well knew its import. “I’ve been nearly ruined,” she said. “Twice. It’s only a problem if you let it be. Otherwise, life goes on pretty much as usual. The trades must be paid, the garden weeded, the mares looked after. I will still love you, probably all the more for the way you nobly endure your exile from polite society, provided you endure that exile with me. I am looking very much forward to—”
