Pursuing Miss Pippa

Baker

Chapter 1

The white edifice of London’s most infamous bordello loomed before her.

Philippa Pippa Walker breathed deeply, trying to still the rapid pounding of her heart before ascending the steps leading to the notorious Tindale’s. It had taken all her cunning to get here, and she knew she could not turn back now. She glanced quickly left and right, then mounted the steps with her usual light, graceful movement.

She raised her hand to knock upon the imposing door when it suddenly wrenched open. To her horror Pippa found herself facing Sir Clement Amberley. Though not yet beyond his mid-twenties, Amberley was looking to vie with the Prince Regent for stoutness and, despite Pippa’s petite build, it was thus an awkward moment that held the two from proceeding either into or out of Tindale House.

Pardon me, sir, Pippa mumbled, lowering her head and hand in one swift motion. She brushed past Sir Clement, hoping he had not recognized her.

It was a vain hope. Amberley would have recognized the lovely Miss Walker anywhere. Few of the season’s belles had her slim, straight bearing or those dusky curls peeping out from under that atrociously large puce bonnet. It was, thought Sir Clement, a rum case that Miss Walker should be entering the town’s most exclusive brothel. He turned briskly up the street with a new sense of purpose, for he knew just where to find George Walker at this time of day. As he moved away he thought again that it was a rum case indeed.

Inside, Pippa knew a brief moment of relief before lifting her head to discover a livered servant staring down a haughty nose at her.

I have come to see Mrs. Tindale, Pippa stated in what she hoped was a commanding tone, while trying impossibly to look down her pert, upturned nose.

The servant, seeing a large, dark pair of blue-black eyes set in a delightfully delicate face, did not show her out to the back entrance as he had first intended but instead led her to a door at the end of the narrow hall.

Left alone in what proved to be a small but well-appointed morning room, Pippa pulled off the awful bonnet—that article having been chosen not to fashion but for its ability to hide her face from view—and smoothed the front of the plain gray gown she wore. She tried to calm her racing pulse, for she well knew the scandal her action would cause if it was discovered, and once again reasoned as to why she had taken such a daring step.

For as long as she could remember, Pippa had been extracting her charming scapegrace of a brother from one tangle after another. Having loved, spoiled and devoted herself to the young scamp from the time she could carry him, it had only seemed natural to her that she pull George out of his current predicament. As she paced restlessly about the room, mentally scolding first her reckless young brother and then the woman who had, she was sure, preyed upon his youth, Pippa worked herself into an agitated state of angry indignation.

At this point the door opened and in floated the notorious, wealthy and beautiful Bianca Tindale. Dressed in a classically high-waisted day dress of the palest green, her feathery blond hair turned to a shimmering halo above a strikingly fair face, she was both younger and far lovelier than Pippa had expected the woman who operated this famed and highly patronized establishment could be. Half the cream of the London ton visited Tindale House. Although she no longer aspired to be accepted by the other half, Mrs. Tindale’s refined beauty was such that her position was unassailable.

Slightly arching one brow, Bianca Tindale studied her visitor, realizing at once that she was no street girl looking for employment. Breeding was in her very stance, and Bianca had no doubt that the young woman was a member of the ton. Without revealing any of this she inquired, You wished to see me?

You are Mrs. Tindale? As the golden head nodded acknowledgment, Pippa took a deep breath and plunged in. I have come to see you on an urgent private matter. I am Miss Walker, and I have reason to believe my brother George has been ... has been visiting your house. Is that correct? Pippa’s hesitation was evaporating and the anger of a moment before was returning. That this polished adventuress should be taking advantage of George!

And if it is?

My brother, Mrs. Tindale, is not yet of age. He is impetuous and, indeed, sometimes quite foolish. I believe he recently made a present of a necklace to ... to one of your females, Pippa accused.

Such presents, Miss Walker, are quite common, Mrs. Tindale said with a smile. Indeed, you surely must realize it is expected.

That necklace was not his to give, Pippa explained in an icy tone. It is rightfully the family’s—an heirloom, if you will. Should our guardian, Lord Burnham, discover its disappearance ... well, naturally, you see the dilemma. I am here to ask for the return of the necklace. And to beg you not to prey on young boys any longer! As her heat grew Pippa’s face flushed so that the natural cream of her complexion turned a becoming rose.

Mrs. Tindale was not moved, however, by Miss Walker’s beauty but by the knowledge that Henry Walker, the powerful Lord Burnham, could create problems for her. The connection had, of course, been known, and was indeed one reason George Walker had been given such free rein at Tindale House. The wealth of the Walker brother and sister was one of the great on dits of this London season, as was the fact that Burnham had recently named his nephew George his heir. It was, Bianca realized, a situation requiring all her tact and charm, of which she had a considerable amount.

My dear, she said softly as she skimmed across to Miss Walker, of course I shall be happy to recover the necklace for you. Had I known it was such a piece! I assure you, I understand full well how rash young men can be. It is, however, unfortunate that you have come at this time, dear, for as you must know, as evening arrives so do our callers.

Pippa again went rosy, but this time from embarrassment. I was quite unable to get away earlier, she explained. She saw a glimmer of amusement pass across the older beauty’s eyes and found herself liking the infamous Mrs. Tindale. The thought popped into her mind that her Aunt Blanche would have been calling for laudanum with shock over this, and it brought a smile to her lips.

I can imagine your difficulty, Bianca responded with an answering smile. For now I must ask you to wait in my own chambers. I can assure you that you will not be disturbed there while I am locating the Walker heirloom. Then my servants can return you and the necklace home safely without anyone being the wiser.

Oh, thank you! You are very kind, Pippa said on a note of immense relief. She had thought there would be enormous difficulty in persuading Mrs. Tindale to relinquish the necklace, but it had been nothing compared with the worry and deceit she had gone through to get to Tindale House. She followed Bianca out of the room and up a sweeping staircase, feeling happiness for the first time since she had first discovered that the heirloom was missing.

* * * *

It had been three mornings earlier, while they were discussing plans for her upcoming birthday ball, that Pippa’s Aunt Blanche had reminded her of the family jewels.

You shall have them taken out and cleaned, my dear, her aunt insisted. Of course, they are a bit cumbersome and not at all in today’s fashion, but they are your own dear mama’s and just the thing for you to wear at your ball.

Pippa had smiled lovingly at her plump and flighty aunt. Since her dear mama had expired shortly after the effort of giving birth to George, Pippa had been without a mother’s guidance almost her entire life. When she and her brother had come to live with their aunt and uncle in London upon the death of their father some twelve months earlier, her Aunt Blanche had quickly become the mother she really never had.

For the childless Lord and Lady Burnham, the young Walkers had filled a void and brought new meaning to their lives. Blanche had delighted in sharing Pippa’s first season in London with her, and it was little wonder that her niece had come to love her so deeply.

Kissing Blanche lightly on the top of her crooked mobcap, Pippa went off to fetch the jewels. Once she was in her room, she had removed three black velvet bags from a small wooden box and, sitting upon her bed, had opened each bag in turn. From the first a pair of drop earrings fashioned of a circle of diamonds with a cut-emerald center had emerged. The second contained a matching bracelet of six small diamond circles, each centered with emeralds. But from the third, where a strand of diamonds with a center diamond-and-emerald circle should have been, there came only a cheap necklet of coarse beads.

Holding her hand to her pounding chest, Pippa took three very deep breaths, then passed over all the possible reasons for the necklace to be gone. But there was only one conclusion—someone had deliberately attempted to conceal the removal of the gems. The necklace had been stolen.

It was the greatest stroke of luck that as she came slowly downstairs feeling ill with dismay, Mr. Bernard Cash was being let into the hall below. Cash was one of the dandy set, and Pippa secretly considered him to be quite a silly young man. But he was a friend of George’s, so she greeted him eagerly that morning.

Pulling their guest into a sitting room, she said without preamble, Mr. Cash, can you tell me where George is this morning? Before the young fop could say a word, she ran on, I wish to talk to him about ... about a necklace.

The one he gave to Eliza, Cash started blithely before realizing in horror that this was not a proper topic to discuss with a lady. Ah, that is to say ... he stumbled.

He gave it away! Pippa gasped before he could finish his bumbling explanation. She pounced upon the nervous dandy and within five minutes had the entire story.

She had learned that George—her darling brother!—had given the necklace to a current lady love. Working the information out of Mr. Cash as if she were kneading the toughness out of a hunk of dough, Pippa learned that George had presented a gift to one Eliza living under the patronage of Mrs. Tindale just two nights ago.

Cash had no real idea how he had come to be telling all this to Miss Walker. She just had such a way of fixing one with a frosty stare—and when her eyes flashed with anger, well, Mr. Cash could only remark upon the resemblance of the sister to the brother. Hot-tempered, the Walkers, and quick—too demmed quick, if you asked him—to act.

While Pippa ushered the unfortunate Mr. Cash out the door, all the while apologizing for her haste, she was already making plans to get into the most notorious fancy house in London.

It was two nerve-racking days later that an opportunity finally presented itself. As Pippa and Blanche were leaving to pay some late-afternoon social calls, Pippa had developed the headache and decided to remain at home, resting. She had insisted her aunt continue on without her, and two minutes after the door had closed upon Blanche’s unsuspecting back, Pippa had been changing into a slim gray gown devoid of decoration or flounce and covering her black curls with an enormous puce bonnet. Once attired in her maid’s finest, she slipped quietly down the stairs and out of the house.

* * * *

Meanwhile, as Pippa confronted Bianca Tindale, Sir Clement Amberley was confronting her brother at White’s in St. James Street, waving his silver-topped walking stick about with a flourish as he described his unexpected encounter with Miss Walker.

The darkly handsome boy casually straddling in the bay window seat of White’s was the match of his lovely elder sister. Dark curls waved over his head; dark blue glittering eyes shone with humor as he surveyed the activity along St. James Street. The cream of his sister’s complexion was more darkly shaded in his face, and the line of his jaw was more squarely cut, while his nose definitely did not turn up. Still the resemblance was strong.

He was nodding distractedly, not really listening to his friend’s discourse. He was, in fact, thinking of the evening ahead with the saucy, red-haired Eliza at Bianca Tindale’s. It was with a sudden surprise that he realized Amberley, too, had Tindale’s on the mind.

... and I knew, old boy, despite that awful bonnet—you should tell her never to wear puce, it doesn’t become her—that those curls could only be hers. Well, and I say, it was rum that she should be going into Tindale House, don’t you think?

Who? George inquired blankly.

Who? Your sister, demme! Miss Walker! Didn’t I just say so? Amberley exclaimed with another wave through the air of the walking stick.

What! The lazy, inattentive air fell from George as he jumped up. "Are you standing there telling me you saw Pippa—Pippa—going into Bianca Tindale’s?"

Well, yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you— Amberley got no further before being pushed out of George’s way. Sir Clement followed quickly behind, determined not to lose sight of his friend.

After a moment’s hesitation an extremely pale Bernard Cash excused himself from a nearby trio of gentlemen to set off in Amberley’s wake. Cash was still disquieted over his recent conversation with Miss Walker, and having overheard snatches of the exchange between his two friends, he rushed out after them.

Coming up alongside Sir Clement, Cash tapped his arm. I say, Amberley, I could not help hearing ... is Miss Walker in any difficulty?

It’s hard to say, old boy, Amberley answered without breaking his stride. But whether she is or not, young Walker is out with his temper up!

Cash received this dire pronouncement with a nervous gulp, feeling certain that Walker’s distemper could only end badly for one Bernard Cash. With a fatalist’s inability to escape his doom, he quickened his step, moving toward Tindale House and trouble.

* * * *

Pippa was sitting in the private parlor-bedroom of Bianca Tindale, sipping tea that had been provided by a wide-eyed serving girl some time ago. The rooms were opulently furnished yet were in excellent taste. It was not, she realized, an altogether feminine room. The tones of the room were muted, and here and there were signs of a masculine presence, such as the gleaming pair of tasseled Hessian boots standing alone in one corner. But Mrs. Tindale had been positive in her assurance that Pippa would not be disturbed, so her male patron must be gone, Pippa thought as she glanced around. That was a relief, because she would not, could not have faced meeting with anyone else while she was here.

With the teacup in her hand and that thought still lingering, she heard a clatter behind her. She turned and saw a tall, attractive stranger with broad shoulders and muscular thighs in buckskin breeches filling the frame of a private entrance.

Well, he said as he flung off a muddied, many-caped cloak, it appears that Bianca’s found someone new while I’ve been away.

Those who claimed to know intimately Garrett James Steelman, fifth Marquis of Duval, would have said the handsome peer was intoxicated. His eyes were glazed and there was a slight hesitation to his movements, but to Pippa he appeared to be not only sober but sinister. With a deceptively languid suppleness, he crossed to stand before her. She saw deep, velvety brown eyes glittering down at her, then, suddenly, strong hands clasped hers, knocking aside the teacup. He pulled her to her feet and then cynically surveyed her.

A bit dowdy, he commented, but your figure is quite passable. And such delicate hands, he murmured as he pressed warm lips upon them. Almost like porcelain.

Please, sir, Pippa began as she pulled her hands free. You are making a mistake!

My only mistake, m’dear, the marquis drawled with an ominous laugh, was in taking so long to return to London. But then I didn’t know what I was missing!

M-missing, sir? she stammered, trying to look beyond him for an avenue of escape.

Why you, sweeting—you, he replied as he raked her with impassioned eyes.

There was to be no escape. Duval quickly scooped her into his arms, grasping her so tightly Pippa’s breath was ripped from her. She felt the muscled hardness of him, felt their heartbeats fluttering as he pressed her body against his. Then he brought his lips close to hers, and she felt nothing but fear. His hot breath seared her cheek as she swiftly turned her head aside. The marquis planted a clumsy kiss on her ear.

Don’t be so missish! he snapped and, jerking her chin up, he kissed her firmly, passionately on her lips,

A warm tremor of arousal seemed to shatter Pippa’s very soul as a surge of intoxicating pleasure fired within her. Briefly she responded to his ardor, but it was a dangerous rapture, she dimly realized. Reacting to her inner warnings, she wrested herself from his slackened hold, only to be pulled roughly back into his lordship’s arms.

Oh, no, my dear, we’re only beginning, he said harshly. His eyes darkened with desire. They were all Pippa could see before he again brought his lips down to meet hers. One flashing bolt of lightning branded her before she became vaguely aware of the hall door crashing open.

Sir! George Walker shouted as he strode angrily toward them. His dark eyes blazed murderously as he took in the scene before him.

Behind him, Sir Clement gaped at the spectacle of Miss Pippa Walker being embraced by London’s most renowned rake.

Following Amberley, a shaking Bernard Cash could only exclaim with a squeak, Miss Walker?

Duval glanced up at the intruders. Just whom might you be? he inquired with a dangerous sneer, his arms still encircling Pippa’s shoulders.

I, sir, am Miss Walker’s brother, and I demand you let her go! George stated with all due drama.

Oh, George! Pippa cried as she slipped from Duval’s grasp. It is all a mistake, I assure you!

Walker! Are you Burnham’s pup? demanded the marquis, looking from George to Pippa. He made no attempt to recapture her and, indeed, stared at her as though he were just seeing her for the first time.

Bianca Tindale suddenly appeared at the door and came scurrying through, shutting it behind her. She understood the situation at a glance and stated calmly, You were not to return to London soon, Garrett.

Obviously not, Duval said, smiling ruefully at her.

Sir, George cut in,