by Cheryl Holt
“I won’t, but you have to inform me of what’s happening. You can’t pique my curiosity, then leave me in the dark.”
She gazed at him, her mind awhirl over what to share. Ultimately, she asked, “How well do you know your cousin, Percy?”
“I don’t know him well, but I know enough to not like him.”
“Is he the type of scoundrel who might keep a mistress?”
“He’s definitely the type who might, but I can’t imagine where he’d get the money, so I doubt he could afford it. In my experience, mistresses demand to be supported in grand style, and he’s rarely had two pennies to rub together.”
“In your experience with mistresses? Are you confiding that you’ve kept a few in your day?”
“Ha! As if I’d answer you. I’ll let you wonder about it.”
“Cad. Libertine.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny your accusation, but what’s this about Percy? Stop teasing me and describe what’s vexing you.”
“Susan simply heard a shocking story about him. She’s determined to discover if it’s true or not.”
“You’re off to London to spy on Percy?”
Her cheeks heated. “Yes, and don’t you dare tattle on us.”
“I won’t, but your mission sounds fraught with pitfalls.”
“I agree.”
“Then why go?”
“She’s my friend,” she said, as if that clarified everything. “How could I refuse?”
“How indeed?” His query hung there for a second, then he asked, “When will you be back?”
“Later this afternoon. There’s a party tonight where our presence is expected.”
“I’ll be back later too. I’ll find you. You can tell me what you learned about my cousin, and I’ll tell you about my visit to my childhood home.”
“I’d like that.” She stroked a palm over his heart. “Don’t allow it to distress you. I can’t bear to think of you being troubled over it.”
“I am troubled, but it’s because I have holes in my memory. I might finally be able to fill in some of them.”
“I hope you do.”
Their banter dwindled, but there were a thousand unvoiced comments swirling between them. He wanted to talk about the odd sizzle that practically ignited the air whenever they spoke, but he was certain—if he uttered a single word—she’d decide he was deranged.
“May I walk you down to the driveway?” he asked.
“No. I’m making a clandestine trip, remember? If I was observed with you, everyone would be gossiping about it. Mrs. Middleton would be down to prevent me before I could move a muscle.”
He snorted with amusement. “Would you like me to ride with you? I could tie my horse to your carriage, and we could chat as we journeyed to town.”
“No!” she repeated more sternly. “As far as you and I are concerned, we didn’t meet this morning.”
“All right. If you insist on being fussy, I guess we’ll have to go our separate ways.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“I might not. I might completely waste away from the despair of missing you.”
“I will envision you languishing. It will keep me smiling.” She laughed, then she eased out of his arms and stepped away so he couldn’t grab for her again.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said.
“I can’t wait.”
She hurried off, and like a smitten swain, he watched her until she vanished around a corner. He thought she might glance at him or wave, but she didn’t, and he was so despondent over it that he really felt quite stupid.
What was wrong with him? She had such a powerful effect. Why was that exactly? Why couldn’t he ignore it?
Apparently, he’d have all day to ponder those questions and to arrive at some answers. And they’d both be back for supper, so he’d be with her later on.
The prospect made him happy. It made him excited to rush to London, then rush home. He flitted down the stairs, eager to be off, but also eager—for once—to return to Selby as fast as he could.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Susan and Nell huddled in an anonymous cab on the street where Percy supposedly lived with his secret family. They’d come to town in a fast, fleet Blake carriage, but in case Percy might have recognized it, Susan hadn’t dared arrive in it.
Nell was friends with Sarah Robertson who ran the orphanage Albert and Florence patronized, so they’d parked it there and had continued on in the cab.
Susan was on pins and needles, afraid to learn the truth about Percy, but dreadfully afraid to not learn it too. If she didn’t receive the answers she sought, how could she proceed with the wedding? Or if she did receive them and they were horrid, what would happen? The tension had left her dizzy and nauseous.
They didn’t have to wait long. They hadn’t tarried fifteen minutes when, down the block, another cab stopped in front of the building where Percy’s apartment was located. Nell squeezed Susan’s fingers in a show of desperate support.
Percy climbed out, then extended his hand into the vehicle and guided down a voluptuous blond female. She was a bit older than Susan, but strikingly pretty, with big blue eyes and a curvaceous figure.
“It’s just a woman,” Nell murmured, “and they were in a carriage together. It doesn’t necessarily indicate mischief.”
“I know,” Susan agreed, but she was certain it indicated the worst.
Percy reached up again, and he lifted out a tiny blond cherub who was four or so. He set her on her feet, then she and the woman went inside. Percy reached in yet again, and he pulled out a second girl, another blond cherub who was younger than the first.
He balanced her on his hip as he dug in his pocket for coins to pay the driver. After the cab rolled away, Percy stood, listening to the child. They were nose to nose, and she patted his cheeks, her chubby little hands framing his face.
The door to the building opened, and the older girl skipped out. She wrapped her arms around his leg and was chattering a mile a minute. He was caught between them, responding to both and looking like the overwhelmed father he definitely was. The woman dawdled in the entrance, watching the pleasant tableau.
Percy commented to her, and she chuckled, then the four of them vanished through the door. The woman smiled at Percy in an affectionate way as he passed by.
It was such a poignant scene, and Susan was stunned. Nell was obviously stunned too. They stared at the spot where Percy had been, as if perhaps they could manufacture a better image than the one they’d witnessed.
“Have you seen enough?” Nell eventually asked.
“Yes, I’ve seen enough.”
“May we go? In case he comes back out, I’d rather not linger.”
“We can go,” Susan murmured, and she knocked on the roof.
Their driver whisked them away.
They were silent, miserable and gloomily pondering the next few days. Susan had told Nell—if Trevor’s tale was proved correct—she wouldn’t marry Percy, but telling Nell and telling her mother were two completely separate propositions.
She tried to envision crying off from her engagement, but she wasn’t sure she could. The marital contracts had been signed, so wouldn’t it be considered breach of promise?
Men and women were held to different moral standards, and an important gentleman from an aristocratic family was allowed to philander, sire bastards, and support a mistress.
If Susan was distressed about it, who would care? No one would deem it an appropriate reason to end a betrothal.
Suddenly, she felt violently ill, as if she might vomit all over the cab. Luckily, they were approaching Miss Robertson’s orphanage. The vehicle rattled to a halt, and before the driver could jump down to help them out, Susan scrambled out on her own.
In what would perpetually be the most humiliating episode of her life, she lurched behind the carriage and emptied the contents of her stomach into the gutter. It was a busy street, with hoards of people strolling by.
Onlookers glared with disgust and hurried past her.
Nell was there in an instant, clasping her hand and caressing her back. She’d paid the driver, and he hastily departed, not eager to be dragged into a quagmire if one was brewing.
“Take some deep breaths,” Nell said.
“What shall I do?” she asked as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.
“We don’t have to decide this very moment. Let’s go inside and say hello to Sarah. You need to rest and calm yourself. You’ve had a terrible shock, and we shouldn’t head for Selby immediately.”
“I don’t want to return there—ever!” Susan fervently insisted.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do mean it!” She gazed at Nell, her expression bleak. “What will become of me, Nell?”
“You’ll be fine, Susan. You’re tough and strong, and we’ll stagger through this together, so come with me. We’ll beg Sarah for a cup of tea.” Nell flashed a wan smile. “There’s nothing a cup of tea can’t fix. Isn’t that what your mother always tells us?”
“My mother got me into this mess. How will I ever convince her to get me out of it?”
“Don’t worry about it now.”
Nell was still holding Susan’s hand, and she led her toward the door of the facility, guiding her as if she were elderly and senile and could barely walk on her own.
They knocked and one of Sarah’s urchins ushered them into the common room where the children sat at tables to eat and work on their school lessons. Another boy went to locate Sarah, and as they waited, Nell eased Sarah down on a bench.
“He has a mistress,” Susan forlornly said, “and two daughters. I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Neither did I.”
“I’m sick at heart, Nell. How should I proceed?”
“I can’t begin to advise you. We’ll have that tea. We’ll fortify ourselves, then we’ll talk.”
“You have to stand by me in this. You have to be my ally.”
“I will be,” Nell vowed, and Susan was greatly relieved.
Nell was her staunchest friend, the only person who could defend Susan to Florence and Albert, the only person who would take her side, put her foot down, and make them listen.
Nell would assist her. Nell would figure out the right course.
* * * *
Sarah Robertson grinned at Nell, delighted that she’d arrived.
They were in her private apartment at the rear of the orphanage. Nell and Susan had ridden in earlier from the country and had parked their carriage in the alley, then they’d continued on in a hansom cab. They’d been very mysterious about it, not inclined to explain why they’d snuck to London, why they’d needed an anonymous vehicle to conceal their antics.
Their furtive trip was over, and Susan was so upset that Nell had laid her down on Sarah’s bed so she could compose herself before they traveled on to Selby. The bedchamber door was shut, and Susan was supposed to be napping, so Sarah felt obliged to pry.
“How is the wedding coming along?” she asked, her brows raised in question.
Nell leaned nearer and whispered, “I thought we were in excellent shape, but now, I’m not so sure.”
“What happened?”
“It seems Susan’s fiancé is a libertine.”
“Aren’t all the men in aristocratic families?”
“It’s why we’re in town—to check on him. We’d heard a vicious rumor and wanted to find out if there was any basis to it.”
“In light of Susan’s morose condition, it appears it wasn’t a rumor.”
“No. We stumbled on a sight we definitely shouldn’t have witnessed.”
Sarah didn’t know Susan all that well. While she was nice enough—much nicer than her mother—she didn’t exactly ooze warm overtures, and she possessed much of her mother’s same snobbery. It simply wasn’t as pronounced.
But Nell was a different story. Then again, she wasn’t a Middleton, so she was free to befriend whomever she liked. From the moment they’d met at church, where Sarah had been haranguing parishioners to donate money, they’d instantly bonded.
Nell viewed Sarah as being brave and noble in her efforts to aid the poor, but in reality, she was just trying to feed herself and others who couldn’t feed themselves. It was hard to keep a roof over the heads of so many, hard to accumulate the funds to buy food and clothes and shoes, but if she didn’t do it, who would?
Her deceased parents, Thomas and Ruth Robertson, had instilled their best traits in her. She couldn’t have trod another path. Their lessons about kindness and charity had been too effective, their influence too overwhelming.
She gestured toward the room where Susan was sleeping. “Will she still marry Mr. Blake?”
“She claims she won’t, but I can’t imagine what her parents’ opinion will be. She and I have a lot to discuss on the way to Selby.”
Sarah hated to be snobbish herself, but she couldn’t muster much concern for rich, entitled Susan Middleton. She had so much, while others had so little. If she broke off her engagement to Percy Blake, there would be a line of suitors happy to take his place.
“How has your own visit to Selby been?” she asked. “Is it as beautiful as you expected it would be?”
She was anxious to move the subject away from Susan’s nuptial dilemma. It wasn’t any of her business, but there were several other issues with regard to Selby that fascinated her very much. She wouldn’t ever mention her heightened interest though. From the minute a few months earlier, when Nell had informed Sarah of Susan’s betrothal, Sarah had been absolutely transfixed.
“It’s grander than I was expecting,” Nell replied. “Like a picture in a storybook.”
“Are you having fun?”
“Hmm…” Nell mused. “I’m not certain how to answer you. Have you ever heard much about Lord Selby? The Earl?”
“Isn’t he the African explorer?” Sarah carefully inquired.
“Yes, that’s him.”
Sarah frowned. “I read in the papers that he…died? Or that he was missing after a battle? What was it?”
“The papers were mistaken. He’s back at Selby, and he’s fine.”
Sarah could barely tamp down a sigh of relief, which would have seemed incredibly odd. “My goodness. He’s such a celebrity. It must be exciting to have him there.”
“It has been exciting.” Nell murmured, “I’ve become very friendly with him.”
“How friendly?” Nell’s cheeks heated as if she was too embarrassed to explain, and Sarah said, “You have to confide in me. It’s obvious there’s an outrageous relationship occurring, and I won’t let you keep it a secret.”
“He’s sweet on me.”
“Lord Selby?”
“It sounds mad, doesn’t it? I mean, why would he be sweet on me?”
“Well, I can think of a thousand reasons. If I were a man, I’d snatch you up in a second. It simply indicates he has stellar taste in females.”
“It’s scaring me though. He’s there, and I’m there. It’s difficult to behave.”
“Nell Drummond! What are you confessing to me?”
“Nothing!” Nell hurried to insist.
Sarah patted her hand. “You know he can’t have any moral intentions toward you.”
“I know.”
“And the wedding will be over in a week or so.” Sarah pointed to the bedchamber. “Maybe sooner than that—if Susan has her way. You’ll be able to escape his dastardly clutches before too much more time has passed.”
“It’s what I’m telling myself.”
“In the interim, don’t be foolish. You need to be cautious with those Blake men. There’s been despicable gossip about them.”
Nell appeared confused. “What gossip?”
“Apparently, Percy Blake is a libertine. They’re silver-tongued devils who constantly try to lift the skirts of unsuspecting maidens.”
She’d offered the comment as if she was jesting, but where the Blakes were concerned,
she was riveted by their salacious tendencies. But she wasn’t about to discuss them with Nell—or anyone else for that matter.
The door to her bedchamber opened, and Susan staggered out. She was in a pitiful state, as if she’d been trampled by wild horses. Her hair was knotted and askew, her face pale, her condition haggard.
“Are you feeling any better?” Nell asked her.
“A bit. Could we get going? I have to return to Selby so I can talk with Mother.”
“Yes, we should be off,” Nell smoothly agreed, but she flashed a scowl at Sarah to signify she’d rather travel anywhere on the globe than back to Selby. The pending conversation between Susan and Mrs. Middleton would be excruciating.
Sarah and Nell rose, and Sarah assumed her usual posture—feet braced, hands on her hips—as if she was on board a ship and balancing herself against the waves.
“It’s always marvelous to see you,” she told them. “If you ever again seek an accomplice for another furtive adventure, I’m delighted to help.”
Nell gaped at her and said, “When you stand like that, you look just like Lord Selby. Don’t you think so, Susan?”
Susan studied Sarah and said, “Yes, she does look like him. Especially the eyes.”
“You’re right.” Nell assessed Sarah more closely, and she grinned with mischief. “There’s such a resemblance, Sarah. Might you have been adopted? Perhaps Mr. Robertson wasn’t actually your father. Perhaps you’re the thrilling love child of a Blake.”
Sarah scoffed. “I can definitely declare that I have no blue blood running in my veins. It’s only the blood of my dear, departed father who so generously gave me my wonderful life.”
The three of them peered around at the shabby room, the dilapidated furniture, the worn rugs and drapes, and they all laughed. Sarah lived like a pauper because she was a pauper.
Nell hugged her tight. “I’m glad we had a chance to chat.”
“Come by again after everything is wrapped up at Selby. I’ll be anxious to hear your stories.”
“I will stop by once we’re back,” Nell promised.
Sarah walked them out, and she watched until they drove out of sight. Then she hurried inside to her apartment.
