by Shana Galen
“How do you know I didn’t?”
“Oh, I know better than that.” She stroked Fallon’s hair in a gesture that made Fallon think of mothers and daughters. She had no memory of her mother ever stroking her hair, which was too bad. It was nice. “Fitzhugh isn’t the kind of man to go along with a scheme of that sort.”
“Oh, so it’s because of Fitzhugh, not because I would never do something like that!”
“Darling,” the countess said, squeezing her about the shoulders. “One never knows what you will do. You have no fear. Now, tell me what is going on. How long have you and Fitzhugh been lovers?”
“We’re not lovers.”
The countess looked pointedly at the rumpled bedclothes and Fallon’s scattered clothing. “Really?”
“We may have been intimate, but that doesn’t make us lovers.”
“True enough, and I would believe you if you were more free with your favors. As it is, you bestow them quite stingily. But Fitzhugh, yes, I can see why he would turn your head.”
“He hasn’t turned my head.” Fallon rose and paced. “He’s just a man, like any other man.” That was true. She had to believe it was true.
“Oh, no he’s not.” The countess shook her head, causing the plumage on her hat to wave gently about. “He’s intense and dangerous and not at all handsome. I know how much you detest men who are prettier than you.”
Fallon laughed. “You are impossible.”
“But I’m not incorrect, and Fallon, while I will be the first to admit that what happens in your bedroom is your business, I will caution you against Fitzhugh.”
Fallon bristled. “Why is that?”
“Watch your tone, young lady. I am not implying you are not good enough for the man, though I am certain you have already convinced yourself of that.”
Fallon sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. Sometimes Lady Sinclair made her want to pull her hair out.
“It is only that I know he is the sort of man you could fall in love with, and I do not think that a good idea.”
“I’m not in love with him!” Fallon sputtered.
Lady Sinclair studied her face and then said, “Hmmm. This is a lovely room, though, is it not?”
Fallon sighed. “Don’t change the subject. Tell me. Why is it not a good idea for me to fall in love with him—not that I am going to.”
“Because I know his mother, and she is a woman who gets what she wants.”
“That sounds familiar,” Fallon muttered.
“And she wants Lady Edith for her youngest son. Fitzhugh will have nothing to say about it.”
Fallon thought about protesting that Fitzhugh seemed quite able to make his own decisions, but then she decided against it. After all, she was a woman who made her own decisions, but she could no longer count the number of times Lady Sinclair somehow convinced Fallon to do something other than what she wanted.
Lady Sinclair rose. “That is my advice. Do not, whatever you do, fall in love with Warrick Fitzhugh.”
“Is that all you came to say?”
“No, but the more I think about the matter, the more I believe that should be sufficient.”
Fallon shook her head. She was certain the countess had some ulterior motive, but she was too tired to try and untangle it. Lady Sinclair rose. “I bid you good day. I won’t ask why you are not at home, but I will, of course, keep your secret.”
“It’s not much of a secret.”
The countess prodded Fallon’s leg with her walking stick. “What Lily and I know is not necessarily common knowledge. Now, whatever you are about, be careful.”
“I will.” Fallon rose and, surprising even herself, gave Lady Sinclair a hug. The woman who had always seemed like a mother to her embraced her back. She smelled like lavender and something else… something indefinable but that reminded Fallon of home. Wherever that was.
“Oh, my dear girl,” Lady Sinclair said, patting Fallon’s back. “How I do wish I could bundle all three of you up and tuck you safely away.”
Fallon closed her eyes. “I think that sounds lovely.”
“Ha!” Lady Sinclair shook with laughter. “You would hate me for it inside of a day. And I cannot blame you.” She pulled back. “Who wants to be safe when they are young and invincible?” She put a warm hand on Fallon’s cheek. “You do know I love you?”
Fallon lowered her eyes, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. She loved the countess too, but she wasn’t used to such declarations. And now she’d had two in one day. At least she could believe the countess. “I know,” she said.
“Good. Call on me soon.” And the countess walked to the bedroom door. She had a hand on the handle and the door open before Fallon could summon the words she wanted.
“I love you too.” Her voice was choked, but she’d said it. The countess, who had her back to Fallon, stiffened. And when she turned, Fallon could have sworn she had a tear in her eye. But that was ridiculous. The countess never cried.
“I know you do. But it’s nice to hear it.”
When Lady Sinclair was gone, Fallon sank back on the bed and closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much saying that simple phrase to the countess would mean to the woman. Lily and Juliette said it all the time, but Fallon always assumed the countess knew how she felt—how grateful she was for all the Sinclairs had done for her and how much affection she had for both of them. But she supposed saying the words had its own meaning as well.
She must have drifted off because when she awoke, Kitty was moving about the room, tidying it. “I’m sorry to wake you, miss, but Mr. Fitzhugh is home and he says you’re to be ready to depart in an hour.”
Fallon covered her eyes as Kitty lit a lamp. “What time is it?”
“About nine o’clock, miss. Are you hungry? I brought up some bread and cheese.”
“I’m famished, Kitty.” Fallon reached eagerly for the tray and had to stop herself from stuffing bread and cheese into her mouth like some sort of starved street urchin. Sometimes it was the small habits that were the hardest to break. Instead, she sipped the tea and ate dainty bites of the food she, and her stomach, would have preferred to wolf down.
“A trunk with some of your things arrived this afternoon, miss.” Kitty lifted Fallon’s stays and petticoat off the floor. “Would you like to dress in one of the gowns it contains?”
Fallon nodded, remembering to swallow before she spoke. “Yes, preferably something dark.”
“I shall look in the trunk, miss.”
While Kitty and another maid moved the trunk into the room, Fallon finished her meal and went to observe Lily’s choices. Two day dresses, a riding dress, a burgundy evening gown, and three very flimsy, very lacy nightrails. When Kitty lifted those, the poor girl blushed all the way to her toes. Fallon wanted to say they were not hers. They were Lily’s addition and attempt at being helpful, but Fallon thought it might be better to simply ignore the garments. Instead, she studied the assortment of stays, shifts, and petticoats. Exactly how long did Lily think she would be here? She’d packed enough for a week.
“That one,” Fallon said, pointing to the burgundy gown with jet beading. I’ll wear that tonight.” She lifted her ruby necklace from a box Lily had packed. “And this.”
“Yes, miss.”
Fallon was ready in an hour, but just barely. She wasn’t entirely pleased with the way Kitty had styled her hair. It was swept up and coiled high on her head. She wasn’t certain if she looked regal or like a lamp post. But Kitty was looking nervously at the clock, and so Fallon shrugged her shoulders, grabbed her wrap, and started downstairs. It wasn’t as though she cared what her father thought of her. She hadn’t seen him in years, and to say they parted on bad terms was an extreme understatement.
So why was she nervous? Why were her hands shaking? Why could she not seem to take a deep breath? She reached the gro
und floor of the town house and thought to check her hair once more in the gilded mirror hanging in the vestibule. Oh, it really was too high! She couldn’t go like this.
“Bloody hell.”
Fallon spun around and spotted Warrick lounging against the banister. She hadn’t seen him a moment before. He was studying her and shaking his head. “I know,” she said. “My hair isn’t right. I’ll fetch Kitty—”
“Don’t move.”
She raised a brow as he moved forward, coming closer. “There’s no time for any alteration, and I wouldn’t want one anyway. Good God.”
Fallon sighed. “It’s not that bad.”
“No, it’s not bad at all. In fact, I’m going to have a devil of a time keeping my hands off you and even more of a challenge keeping other men’s hands off you. You’re bloody radiant.”
Fallon blinked. “Thank you. I think.”
He bent over her gloved hand, kissing it lightly. “I wish we were going anywhere but where we must tonight. I’d like nothing more than to see that gown in the glitter of ballroom chandeliers.”
“I thought you didn’t dance.”
“Tonight I could make an exception.”
***
Warrick had not intended to return home so late. He didn’t like leaving Fallon, even though he knew she was completely protected in his home. Still, he felt the urge to hurry through his business with the solicitor and return to her.
Admittedly, his intentions might not have been purely protective.
And so when he stepped out of his solicitor’s office and onto the street, he almost knocked over the woman waiting to enter. “Pardon me,” he said perfunctorily. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“Warrick? Is that you?”
He paused and studied the woman more closely. “Louisa?” He took her arms and smiled at her. “What are you doing here?”
“Apparently we have the same solicitor.” She embraced him. “I’ve missed you.” She pulled back, touched his cheek. “You look tired.”
“You look lovely, as usual. You always were the best-looking of the Fitzhugh clan.”
She gave him a sad smile. “And you were always the best liar. I know I don’t look well.”
She didn’t. She looked thin and pale. He’d heard rumors her husband had recently acquired a new mistress. His neglect of his wife was obviously taking its toll. “Do you want me to speak to Hartford? I can be persuasive.”
“Good Lord, no!” She shook her head emphatically. “I am pathetic enough without asking my little brother to confront my husband.”
“I’m not so little anymore.”
“No, you’re not.” She adjusted her hat. “I know Mother paid you a visit.”
He rolled his eyes. “Do not tell me you are going to lecture me as well.”
“At one time I would have. Now, I say happiness is fleeting. If you’ve found it, embrace it.”
Warrick raised his brows. His oldest sister had always been something of a moral stickler.
“I see I’ve shocked you.” A strand of her light brown hair blew across her cheek. “But you see, I like her.”
“Her?” He moved aside to allow a clerk to pass. “Fallon?”
“Yes, your courtesan. Did you not know she rejected Hartford? He offered her carte blanche, and she said no. She didn’t want him.”
Warrick was not surprised.
A woman with a yapping terrier passed them, and Warrick nodded politely. Louisa waited until she was out of earshot to continue. “And so my point, dear brother, is that you should not allow Mother to arrange your life. Not all of her efforts are successful.”
“Point taken.” He moved to open the solicitor’s door for her, but she put her hand on his arm.
“I know you have your pride, but so does Papa. If you go to him—”
Warrick stiffened. “I have tried to speak to him.”
“I know. He didn’t mean what he said. He was stricken with grief and not himself. He loves you. He doesn’t blame you for Edward.”
Warrick shook his head. He wished that were true.
“We all loved Edward,” Louisa was saying, “but he is dead, and you are alive. We miss you.”
“And I miss you.” That much was true, at least.
“I should go in.” But she did not release his arm. “Will I see you at the ball?”
“Louisa.” He shook his head.
“Come, Warrick. Papa wants to see you. He loves you.” The bell on the solicitor’s door tinkled faintly as she disappeared inside. Warrick stood on the street, watching a steady stream of horses and carriages pass by.
You killed him. His father’s voice rang in his ears. You murdered my son.
Warrick loved Louisa, and as much as it pained him to admit it, she was wrong about their father. His love for Warrick had died with Edward.
Several hours later, Fallon served as the perfect distraction from the meeting with his sister. Warrick followed Fallon to the carriage, trying very hard not to stare at the creamy skin of her back. Where in God’s name had she unearthed that gown? It was the most seductive thing he had ever seen. Somehow she managed to wear it without looking the least bit tawdry. It dipped low in the back, showing an appalling amount of flesh, and hugged her curves when she moved. The dark red color made her skin look warm and creamy. He wanted to kiss her, run his hands over that skin to feel for himself.
But this would not do. He had more important matters to think of at the moment. Matters of life and death. It would be better if he put Fallon out of his mind. He would find somewhere to hide her until he had Bayley where he wanted him.
Tonight Warrick intended to find out who had ordered his termination.
The Merry Widow was all but empty when they arrived. It was still early, and Warrick knew it would not stay so for long. This time, when he and Fallon entered, the clerk showed them directly back to Daisy’s chambers. She was sitting at her desk, spectacles on her nose, looking at a ledger. She looked up when they entered. “Finally! I received your note and didn’t know what to make of it.” She stood and crossed the room to stand opposite Warrick. “I don’t know who Joseph Bayley is, but I’m not going to leave my own establishment.” She looked at Fallon. “I shouldn’t have to leave, should I?” And then as though really seeing Fallon, she reached out and touched the glittering beads on her gown. “Marchioness, do you think you could stand in the common room for just a few moments? Or, better yet, stand outside—”
“Daisy, she’s not here to bring you more business. I’m afraid tonight I have to ask you to repay a favor.”
“You know I am more than happy to do anything you ask, Warrick, but why do I have to leave?”
Fallon put her hand on Daisy’s arm. “Warrick just wants to protect you, Daisy. The men who are coming here tonight are dangerous.”
“As though I don’t know how to deal with dangerous men.” She puffed her chest out.
“Daisy, I have no doubt of your capabilities, but I’d feel better if you were safely away. If you were here, I’d spend the entire time worrying about you and not thinking about what I should.”
Daisy blinked. “Oh, well, if you put it that way I suppose I could find somewhere else to go for a few hours.”
“Thank you, Daisy.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Now I owe you a favor.”
“Rubbish.” She waved her hand. “I still owe you at least a dozen.”
“Daisy,” Fallon said, “what is it Warrick did for you that you are so indebted to him?”
Warrick opened his mouth to change the subject, but then he reconsidered. Perhaps he should allow Daisy to sing his praises. It might make Fallon see him in a different light.
“I know he saved your brother,” Fallon added.
“That he did,” Daisy said. “But then, when he brought my Robbie home, he also help
ed him find a place. It’s not many who want to hire a man with a deformity, even if it was from the war. Now Robbie works as a groom for Lord Darlington, and it’s perfect because Robbie has always loved horses.”
“Lord Darlington?” Fallon glanced at Warrick. “I see.”
Warrick shrugged. “Darlington needed a groom.”
“But that’s not all he did,” Daisy said. “When Robbie was gone in the war, I didn’t have any means of income. I’d been a dressmaker, but the shop I worked at had to close when the lady what ran it fell ill. I ended up on the streets.”
“Oh.” Fallon put her hand on Daisy’s arm.
“Don’t pity me, my lady. It was good money, and I didn’t mind the work. I like a handsome gentleman, I do.” She winked at Warrick, and he shook his head and laughed. “But some of the other girls couldn’t stand on their own, and there are some bad men…what you’d call…” She put a finger to her lips.
“Unscrupulous?” Warrick suggested.
“Yes! That’s it. They were unscrupulous, and the girls didn’t have anywhere else to go. So Warrick helped me open this place. Now there’s a safe place for girls to ply their trade.” She grinned. “I make a bit of money myself.”
Fallon looked about the room, and Warrick wondered if she saw what he saw—the trappings of a woman who had come from nothing and made her way in the world. That was, if anyone could see past the mounds of roses.
“And I can buy as many roses as I please!”
“That must be lovely. Was Warrick a client of yours?”
Daisy looked horrified. “Oh, no! I mean, I wouldn’t mind giving him a tumble, but he’s always been all business.” She narrowed her eyes at Fallon. “But I expect that might not be the case with you.”
“Daisy—” Warrick interrupted. “Is there anything you need to take with you? Can I help you collect your things?
“Oh, all right. I’m going. I wasn’t asking for details.” She took her reticule and her hat and started for the door. “But just out of curiosity, my lady, what do you charge? You know, from a purely business perspective?”
