To Hell and Back: A Devilish Debutantes Novella Read online

  To Hell and Back

  A Devilish Debutantes Novella

  Annabelle Anders

  The Devilish Debutantes Series

  Hell Hath No Fury (Cecily)

  Hell in a Hand Basket (Sophia)

  Hell Hath Frozen over (Novella - Harold’s Mother)

  Hell’s Belle (Emily... 2018 ® RITA Nominee)

  Hell of a Lady (Rhoda)

  To Hell and Back (Novella – Rhoda’s mother)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  A Sample from

  About the Author

  Also by Annabelle Anders

  Chapter 1

  Finally a Widow

  * * *

  “Ma’am. Please sit down. You’ve had quite a shock.” The words barely registered as Eve Mossant processed that her husband of twenty years was dead.

  Two years had passed since she’d last seen him. They hadn’t lived together in over a decade.

  She hadn’t had relations with Jean Luc for thirteen years and seven months.

  She was free.

  “Mama.” Her oldest daughter, Rhoda knelt beside her. Eve hadn’t resisted when the gentleman delivering the news guided her to the sofa and lowered her to sit. “It’s good riddance.”

  Eve nodded. “Yes.” Yes, it is.

  Her husband had been a libertine and a wastrel. Among other things.

  She glanced up at Mr. Waverly, her man of business. He’d handled her own fortune for the past year. Apparently, word had been sent to him first, rather than to the wife.

  “How? When?” Did it really matter? It should. Perhaps if he shared some of the details she could believe the news to be true.

  And although she’d spent years hating Jean Luc, tears welled in her eyes.

  Mr. Waverly glanced over at Rhoda and her husband, Lord Carlisle, and they all nodded grimly.

  “January twenty-ninth. Two days ago. Found dead in his bed. Smothered with his own pillow.”

  Eve processed the information stoically. It made sense. He’d likely angered some woman or her husband. Or perhaps been unable to pay one of his lady birds. And they’d held a pillow over his face.

  The feat would have been easily accomplished as Jean Luc probably had passed out from drink or opium.

  Or whatever potion he’d chosen to poison himself with that day. She wasn’t sure what he’d most recently been dabbling in.

  “Do they know who?” Again, it didn’t matter. But a wife would be expected to ask.

  Mr. Waverly addressed her question but, of course, the answer wouldn’t matter. She stared out the window as two drivers skirmished over their vehicles on the street below. Ah, yes. One of the barouches had scratched the other. Unfortunate, really, it had been painted such a pretty color blue.

  “Mama. Mama? Are you listening?”

  Eve shook her head to stare into Rhoda’s coffee-colored eyes. “But of course.”

  “I’ll return tomorrow. After she’s rested.” Mr. Waverly’s voice softened. His assistance had been indispensable to her. Since she’d come into her own fortune, he’d done his best to keep it out of Jean Luc’s reach.

  And he’d succeeded.

  But before he could leave, Eve sprang off the sofa. “You are certain? This isn’t some joke? Or a mistake?” Did she want it to be? Jean Luc Mossant had been her husband, after all. He was Rhoda, Coleus, and Holly’s father — biologically anyhow.

  Mr. Waverly stared at her solemnly. She’d not noticed how steady his gaze was. Had it always been so reassuring? So…solid? It must have been, for she’d trusted him with her lifetime security amounting to thousands of pounds.

  And then he took both of her hands in his and squeezed. “I am certain.”

  “Did you travel to Pebble’s Gate? Have you seen the body?”

  “I did not. One of my associates brought me the news, and he is utterly reliable. But I will, if you’d like me to.” He rose to his feet and moved across the room. He knew her circumstances well enough that he would comprehend her misgivings.

  Eve took a deep breath. She hated losing her composure in front of anybody, particularly one of her daughters.

  At least Coleus and Hollyhock were safely ensconced at Miss Primm’s Ladies’ Seminary this year. Since winning a considerable amount of money on a most disreputable bet, Eve now had the funds to pay the exorbitant tuition.

  “I think the girls ought to be informed in person. Coleus will be most vexed to put off her coming out another year.”

  Not that Eve thought her husband deserved a full year of mourning from any of them, but society would judge them poorly if they failed to observe such a ritual.

  “Rhododendron and I can go to the school, if you’d like,” her son—in—law, a former vicar, suggested. Yes, her two younger daughters ought to hear of their father’s death from Rhoda.

  “Thank you, Carlisle.” She nodded. “But don’t pull them out of school. I don’t want to compromise their educations right now.”

  “We’ll come to Pebble’s Gate afterwards, Mama.” It was Rhoda who reached across to squeeze her mother’s hand this time before glancing over her shoulder at her husband.

  Lord Carlisle nodded in agreement.

  Eve could not have been any more proud of Rhoda if she’d married the Prince Regent himself.

  “And you will travel with her, Mr. Waverly?” Rhoda had turned to the sturdy man who’d done his best to disappear into the wallpaper. “I don’t want her to go alone.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Eve interjected. She hadn’t depended upon a man for years now. She’d learned the hard way that such laziness put a lady in some most disadvantageous circumstances.

  “Of course. I’ll make arrangements this afternoon, and we can depart early tomorrow morning. If that is satisfactory.”

  Eve wondered at the condition she would find the country property. At one time, it had been her home, but it had never belonged to her, of course. Jean Luc’s nephew would inherit most of the estate. She wondered if the heir had been willed the debts as well.

  God, she hoped so.

  She needed to go.

  Mr. Waverly could assist her with the funeral arrangements. And other legal matters, she supposed.

  She pressed her fingertips against her forehead. “Tomorrow is fine.”

  * * *

  As soon as Sixtus delivered the news of Jean Luc Mossant’s death, Nigel Waverly had anticipated a visit to Bristol, the largest town near Pebble’s Gate. She’d been a most unusual client from the beginning, and he quite preferred to handle the details of her business personally.

  Not quite a year ago, he’d been asked to handle a rather delicate bet for Mrs. Mossant at the direction of Thomas Findlay. After she’d won, Findlay had sent him to her townhouse to discuss the management of those winnings. She’d proven even more interesting upon close inspection. His first thoughts were that she did not appear old enough to have three grown daughters. Elegant, slim, mocha-colored eyes, and shining chestnut hair, she could have been Lady Carlisle’s older sister.

  Ah, but there the similarities ended.

  Mrs. Eve Mossant possessed a backbone unlike any he’d found in a woman before. Especially in a gently bred lady.

  Developed out of necessity, n
o doubt. She protected her daughters like the lioness she had become due to enjoying absolutely no help from their father.

  Eve had been decidedly pointed in what she required. She’d entrusted him with protecting her winnings from her husband at all cost. If Mossant had known his wife possessed such a fortune, he’d have wasted it away within a few months.

  Nigel had no misgivings in doing as she asked. He’d heard of Mossant’s libertine lifestyle.

  During their first visit, she’d explained to Nigel, most unapologetically, that she needed the funds handled in a manner so that her husband would never have any legal right to them, which had been tricky, but nothing Waverly was not familiar with.

  Nigel had then taken it upon himself to investigate Mr. Jean Luc Mossant. He’d even sent Sixtus down to Bristol from time to time.

  Through those reports, he’d learned why Eve Mossant never allowed her daughters to dwell in the same residence with their father. And he’d respected her all the more for it.

  A desire to safeguard the woman and her daughters had emerged in him. And as much as he hated to admit it, he’d been drawn to his client in a manner that had not been platonic. But although he remained a bachelor still at the advanced age of seven and forty, she’d been a married woman.

  And a client.

  First and foremost, he must remain professional. He’d never do anything to betray the trust she’d placed in him. His job was to protect her legal and financial circumstances.

  She could purchase the townhouse she’d been leasing now, with no one else having legal claim to her possessions. He supposed they’d discuss much of this over the next several days. He’d have to go through Mossant’s finances.

  “Until tomorrow then, ma’am.” He would leave her with her daughter and son-in-law for now. He had no obligation nor request to further his stay.

  Nigel duly noted, however, that she had not collapsed at the news.

  “Ah, yes, thank you Nigel.” Her eyes appeared somewhat dazed. For her to have slipped and addressed him by his Christian name, she must be experiencing understandable distress.

  He’d not offer his sympathies. In good conscience, he could not.

  Nodding at the others in the room, he bowed and slipped out of the house. His carriage awaited. His office was situated within walking distance, but he hadn’t wanted to delay the meeting any longer than necessary.

  And now he had a journey to plan. He’d allow two days for travel in case of bad weather or difficulties. She’d ride in her own carriage, and he’d ride outside. All propriety would be observed.

  Chapter 2

  January Rain

  * * *

  “Mr. Waverly has arrived, and the coach is ready outside.”

  Eve nodded toward her maid as she drew her favorite gloves on. They fit her perfectly, gliding over her hands to slide in place snugly like a second skin.

  She would not make him wait. She knew other ladies made it a point to always be tardy, and that bothered her. It was disrespectful. And this was business. Her business, for which he was paid handsomely to attend to, and she needed to maintain a good relationship.

  Jean Luc had been perpetually late. Even before his injury.

  Eve glanced at Lucy but then turned again to study her more closely. Her skin seemed a little greener than normal, and she clutched her arms around her abdomen. “Are you not well, Lucy?”

  The young woman sniffed. “Feeling queasy, I’m afraid.” And then she pivoted and disappeared hastily into the dressing room.

  Sounds of her maid’s stomach discontent emerged all too clearly.

  Eve frowned. This created something of a quandary. She hadn’t considered traveling without a female companion.

  Rhoda and Lord Carlisle would have already left for Miss Primm’s.

  She tapped her finger on her lips, contemplating her options, and then winced as more sounds of retching reached her ears.

  They could delay travel — wait another day or two.

  But Eve felt an urgency… She’d be quite uneasy, delaying in London, unable to look into her new situation.

  She would travel today and have Lucy follow later. The luggage coach could be delayed until the maid was well enough to travel.

  Decision made, she conveyed the new plans to her wan looking maid, retrieved her small valise, and made her way downstairs to meet Mr. Waverly.

  Fifteen minutes late.

  At her appearance, his brows rose. Of course, she’d never made him wait before.

  “My maid has taken ill,” she explained. “I’ll be traveling without a companion.”

  His brows rose even further at this announcement.

  “Very well.” Of course, he’d not question her. He was in her employ, after all. “Might I suggest we postpone? The western sky is dark, and my assistant says his hands and knees are paining him. In the past, these two factors have always signified an approaching storm.”

  She did not want to wait.

  “Is it raining now?” The weather had been too warm for snow.

  “Not yet, Mrs. Mossant.” His face remained impassive.

  Eve did not want to be detained at home with so much awaiting her in Pebble’s Gate. “I’d rather not delay our travel.”

  “Very well.”

  Mr. Waverly took up her small valise and held the door wide. A gust tore into the foyer and indeed, the air smelled like rain.

  Outside, her carriage waited, along with the driver and one outrider. As well as Mr. Waverly’s mount.

  Of course, he’d not expected to ride inside the carriage with her.

  Another gust lifted her hat, so that the string she’d attached it with tugged at her chin. The wind carried a few small droplets of rain.

  Bleak clouds hovered in the sky along the direction in which they were to travel. Rain was indeed a certainty.

  Poor Mr. Waverly wore a long coat and tall top hat. He’d be soaked in no time.

  “You must ride inside the carriage until the rain passes,” she suggested. If he wanted to do otherwise, that was his decision to make.

  A few misgivings stirred her conscience when thunder rolled in the distance.

  Again, his unassuming nod.

  Eve climbed inside and settled herself comfortably. Within two minutes, he joined her.

  She’d not expected his presence to be so overwhelming. However, within the tight confines of the carriage it was unavoidable.

  He settled himself across from her, setting his hat beside him but not removing his greatcoat.

  Eve had not looked at him so closely before. In her eyes, he’d represented security to her and his company had always been most reassuring.

  But in close quarters, with no other distractions, her mind trespassed on formerly untouchable ground. How had she not noticed his masculinity?

  He must be over six feet tall. Although a few silver hairs grew at his temples, he still had a full head of hair. Firm chin. Broad shoulders, she knew, even without the extra material of his coat.

  Jean Luc had lost most of his hair by their last meeting.

  Jean Luc was dead.

  She could still hardly believe it.

  “He really is dead?” She asked the question without thought.

  Dark gray eyes stared back at her solemnly. “I trust my associate to be accurate, but you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

  “He will have been laid out in one of the drawing rooms. If any of the servants remain. He wasn’t ever one to inspire much loyalty.” She tilted her head. “I hate to imagine the sort who will attend his funeral.”

  “Nothing for you to worry over, ma’am.” Ah, yes. There was Mr. Waverly’s reassuring response. “You won’t be expected to attend. And according to my understanding, a butler and two footmen have remained. The housekeeper resigned last spring. Since then, the butler has been unable to retain respectable female help, as I’m sure you understand.”

  Another grumbling of thunder sounded, this one closer. Eve shivered and tu
gged her coat more tightly around her. They rode for some time in silence.

  “I haven’t visited in over two years. I hadn’t thought to return so soon.”

  Mr. Waverly withheld his opinion on such a statement.

  Eve closed her eyes and remembered that last visit. The man she’d married hadn’t existed for years. She’d loved him once. So very long ago. Conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Jean Luc was thrown from his horse shortly after Hollyhock was born.” She’d still been abed having suffered a difficult childbirth. “His physician assured me that he would survive, even walk again. What he failed to tell me was that my husband was consuming large quantities of Laudanum.”

  “Opium,” Mr. Waverly supplied.

  “Yes.” Things had been difficult enough in that she’d only been able to provide him with daughters. “It managed to rob him of what little good character he’d had to begin with.”

  She hadn’t spoken of this with anyone, although she suspected Rhoda had knowledge of most of it. “Initially, I assumed he was simply out of sorts, frustrated with his limp.” Frustrated with me.

  “And then I realized it was the tincture that changed him. He could not go a day without it. Without the medicine he became mean-spirited and violent.” Eve shivered at the memory. “I hate the stuff. I’m certain it was sent to earth by the devil himself. If I’m ever injured or ill, I’d rather die than touch the poison.”

  Because it was poison. A very special poison that stole a person’s soul.

  She’d remained with Jean Luc until the day he’d nearly thrown Rhoda down a set of stairs. She’d been playing in one of the corridors with her dolls and had impeded his path.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”