by Regina Scott
“He’s leaving again,” Priscilla reported from the window a short time later. She turned to Daphne. “Someone better go after him.”
Daphne threw up her hands. “Oh, very well. I suppose it’s not so bad with a chaperon. Come along, Ariadne.”
Her sister squeaked something as she put away her pencil and journal, but she joined Daphne in alighting on the pavement.
“If we do this again,” Priscilla told Emily as the door closed behind them, “we must find disguises.”
“I brought my evening cloak,” Emily replied, “but it’s not much help in the daylight. Mary told me her sister works for an actress. She’d probably know what to do.”
They speculated on which actress it might be, then lapsed into silence as Mr. Wells allowed the horses to amble along the block. Emily rubbed her gloved finger against the wood panel of the door. She’d been trying to think of a way to mention Lord Robert’s perplexing behavior from that morning, but somehow she hadn’t been able to bring up the matter in front of Daphne and Ariadne. Perhaps it was best just to state the matter.
“Lord Robert took me into his embrace today,” she said.
She glanced up in time to see Priscilla’s emerald eyes widen. Then her friend tossed her golden curls. “You should not have given him the opportunity. Now he’ll think you’re sweet on him.”
Emily wrinkled her nose. “I rather doubt that. As soon as I realized what was happening I jumped up as if he were on fire. Why would he do something like that, Pris? Hug me, I mean.”
“A scoundrel like Lord Robert prides himself on his ability to turn a lady’s head,” Priscilla said, voice stern with authority. “I do not trust sweet words, Emily. They never lead to anything but trouble.”
Emily frowned. “But what if the fellow is sincere?”
Priscilla waved a hand. “If he is sincere, he’ll offer for you, preferably with a diamond of some sort in hand.”
Lord Robert had offered. And she supposed he hadn’t held out a diamond or any other jewel because his family was not well off. Yet he claimed everything was fine financially. Oh, was she never to learn the truth about the fellow?
Priscilla had returned to her spot at the crack. In the shadowed coach, the sounds of London came softly: the rattle of carriages passing, the rumble of wheels and clatter of hooves on cobblestones. But the longer they sat there, the more Emily’s nerves tensed. Perhaps following him again wasn’t such a good idea. Jamie would certainly have scolded her had he known. What if Lord Robert was a worse scoundrel than she thought? What if he saw Daphne and Ariadne following him?
What if he were no villain after all, and she caused a scandal greater than Priscilla’s aunt?
“Berry Brothers is just down the street, you know,” Priscilla commented. “They are purveyors of fine wine, with a scale big enough to weigh a man upon.” She pulled back to eye Emily. “I wonder if I could prevail upon them to lend it for our guests’ amusement at the Ball.”
Emily nodded but with no feeling. Would Lord Robert recognize Daphne and Ariadne after their brief meeting at His Grace’s townhouse? They had said the least to him.
“Oh!” Priscilla cried.
Emily stiffened. “What? Are they in danger?”
“No,” she cried, nose to the crack in the shutters. “You should see the crowds at Harris’s. The new lavender water must have come in, and we’re missing it!”
“Will you please attend to our task?” Emily hissed.
Priscilla waved a hand in her direction. Mr. Wells turned the horses to circle the block.
By the time they started down St. James’s again, Emily’s foot was tapping on the floor. What if Lord Robert suspected their purpose? Surely he wouldn’t accost her friends on a public street. But what if he drew them into an alley? It was not unknown for young ladies to disappear in the dark of London. Maybe he really was smuggling virgins. What had she done?
“Give over,” she demanded, shoving Priscilla away from the window.
“Well, I like that,” Priscilla said with a sniff, throwing herself back into her seat. “May I remind you, Lady Emily, that this is my carriage?”
“Yes, yes,” Emily said. “And this is my future.” She peered through the crack. Where were they? Where was he? Other carriages passed, blocking her view. A group of gentlemen erupted from one of the clubs, crowding the pavement with the sound of their husky laughter.
Mr. Wells slowed the carriage, then stopped it, and she caught sight of Ariadne’s pink pelisse. Emily barely fell back from the door before the girl snatched it open, and she and her sister jumped in.
“He just hailed a hack,” Daphne said as she fell into her seat. “Heading south, toward Pall Mall.”
Priscilla rapped on the panel. “Did you hear that, Mr. Wells?”
“South toward Pall Mall. Very good, Miss.” He called to the horses, and the carriage picked up speed.
“Well?” Priscilla demanded as Ariadne sat fanning herself with one hand. “What happened?”
“I’m so glad you convinced me to go,” Daphne answered, voice trembling in her excitement. “It was tremendously insightful. He visited an apothecary, a haberdashery, and a perfumery. Lord Snedley never mentioned that men needed perfume.”
“Spare me his shopping list,” Emily said. “Did he do nothing interesting?”
Apparently nothing they could connect to what they already suspected. But at least, with him safely ensconced in another carriage, they could open the shutters and watch the city pass as they chased him.
He led them around the gatehouse to St. James’s Palace; the red brick towers with banners flying looked like something out of a medieval tale. Then he continued toward palatial Carlton House, where the Prince Regent lived. Grand churches with beggars on their stone steps, businesses with dark-coated gentlemen scurrying to and fro, and shops crowded with the fashionable flew past their windows.
It wasn’t until the shopping district of Fleet Street that Lord Robert stopped again, leaving his hired hack to loiter in front of a modiste’s shop as fashionable as Madam Levasard’s. Daphne kept the shutters open just the slightest, so that they all could view the proceedings. The ladies inside the dressmaker’s shop noticed him as well. Emily could see them peering out the window and whispering behind their hands.
Another lady strolled up. By the way she smiled at Lord Robert and held out her hand, Emily did not think the two of them had just happened to meet. She had black hair that cascaded down her back in heavy curls, and an emerald velvet hat with a single peacock feather waving over the flat top. Jeweled bobs dangled from her ears, and fur edged her jacket. A maid with a ribboned cap was standing just behind, trying to pretend she was invisible.
“That’s Lady Skelcroft’s daughter, Lady Wheeling,” Ariadne said. “I’ve seen her caricature in the papers.”
“And those are diamonds at her ears,” Priscilla added. “And notice the drape of that gown? Straight out of La Belle Assemblée, the ladies’ fashion magazine.”
As they watched, Lord Robert raised her hand to his lips and held it there far too long. Lady Wheeling tilted her head to gaze up at him. Emily could almost hear her giggle from the carriage.
“She’s married, you know,” Ariadne said quietly. “And her husband is worth five thousand pounds a year.”
“That must be the married woman with whom he dallied,” Emily said, amazed the words came so calmly when her heart was hitting her chest so painfully. How could he look at that woman so tenderly when only this morning he’d held Emily in his arms? “Does it appear to you that the dalliance is ended?”
As if he knew she was watching, Lord Robert turned and walked away. The lady’s smile faded. Her shoulders hunched in the fine jacket, making her look far older. She turned and barked something to her maid, who scurried after her as they continued down the street.
“Perhaps,” Priscilla allowed. “Oh, boys can be so unfair!”
“I think she’s the one who’s unfair,” Daphne said, rai
sing her chin. “She should have been loyal to her husband. Lord Snedley would have insisted upon it.”
“Well, it looks as if her husband is stingy,” Priscilla said as if that excused the lady’s actions. “I’ve seen a set of ear bobs very like those. Aunt Sylvia had them. Her husband bought her the matching necklace.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps Lady Wheeling had a matching necklace as well, before she met Lord Robert.”
“Oh,” Ariadne said with a delighted shiver. “Yes, of course. What if he stole something from every lady with whom he dallied? I can see the line now: ‘He could not steal their hearts, so he stole their jewels instead.’” She reached for her reticule and started hunting for her journal.
“But we’ve already established that he could not have stolen Acantha’s sapphires,” Priscilla pointed out. “She merely misplaced them.”
“Perhaps he didn’t steal from Acantha,” Daphne said. “Even jewel thieves must have some standards.”
“At least you know he isn’t after your jewels, Emily,” Ariadne said, obviously unwilling to give up the idea. “He actually offered for you.”
That was small consolation. If he’d stolen jewels from all the ladies with whom he’d dallied, why were so few of them complaining? And he certainly hadn’t dallied with Lady Minerva! Emily could not understand him. Was he or wasn’t he a scoundrel?
From Fleet Street he hailed a hack to Doctors’ Commons. So close to the Thames, the air was thick with the briny tang of the river. The heavy stone buildings sat around a center courtyard, and Emily and the others could see men and women of all walks of life hurrying back and forth. Close at hand, a family stood with heads bowed, faces pinched, their black coats and hats proclaiming them to be in mourning.
“That building is where wills are debated,” Ariadne explained.
Across the way, three gentlemen strode out of another building. Seeing Lord Robert, they paused to clap him on the back and offer their hands. Emily was at a loss as to why.
Ariadne looked at her with pity. “That’s where you purchase a special license to marry.”
Emily felt ill.
She felt no better as the afternoon wore on. The sun was setting as Lord Robert returned to his club. Daphne and Ariadne were nodding in their seats, and Mr. Wells reminded Priscilla that the horses needed their beds. Besides, Emily had promised Lady Minerva that she’d return the coach before nightfall.
“He must have seen us,” Priscilla said as they watched the lamplighter approach on St. James’s. “That is the only explanation for his exemplary behavior today.”
Emily shook her head. This was maddening! She couldn’t go another night wondering whether Lord Robert was true in his courtship, worrying that she would never have a life. She had to discover his secret, to save her future and her sanity.
“Wait,” Priscilla said from the window. “I think he’s just come out again, on foot.” She turned to Emily. “Shall I have Mr. Wells follow him?”
“No,” Emily said, opening her evening cloak and slipping it about her shoulders. “If he’s on foot, I shall follow him this time.”
“Oh, Lady Emily,” Daphne cried, “you can’t! Think of your reputation if you are caught!”
“Better a tarnished reputation than a life married to Lord Robert,” Emily countered, though her heart started beating more quickly at the thought.
“At least with a tarnished reputation you’ll be less attractive to the slave markets,” Ariadne said as if that would cheer her.
“Just keep me in sight,” Emily told them.
They nodded, wide-eyed, and she climbed from the carriage.
Mr. Wells looked startled to see her, but no more startled than she to see the changes in St. James’s with the twilight. Gone were the strolling dandies, the fashionable ladies. The women across the street were no ladies at all, their lips blood-red as the lamplight flared to life above them.
Shadows leapt away from her, growing larger. Unseen fingers seemed to reach out to drag her down. Even the air felt colder as she sucked in a breath. She would never dare show her face in the daylight again if it were known she’d been so foolhardy as to venture down St. James’s after dark.
But she would not give up. Before Mr. Wells could stop her, she pulled her hood about her head and hurried away.
Lord Robert was heading away from White’s into the area where the lamplighter had yet to go, leading her deeper into the darkness. Her hands clutched the cloak about her, clammy. In the dusk, she could just make out the chestnut of his hair. What had he done with his hat? There was also something odd about the way he moved, hunched over, shuffling along as if to allow her to follow. Did he know she was there, or had he already had too much wine? Did she truly want to face him when he was foxed?
Suddenly, he darted into an alley. Was he at last involving himself in scandal? She glanced back to make sure the carriage was following, then crept to the corner and peered around it.
A large hand reached out and grabbed her cloak. She barely managed a gasp before she was tugged into the darkness.
Chapter 15
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jamie demanded.
She was stiff in his grip, but in fright or frustration he couldn’t know. He didn’t want to scare her, but he had to convince her to stop putting herself in danger. As if the sound of his voice had reassured her, he felt her relax before he removed his hand from her evening cloak.
“I might ask you the same question,” she countered.
“I’m trying to keep you out of trouble, though you don’t make it easy.” He straightened and heard her suck in a breath.
“You were the one I was following! I thought you were Lord Robert. But what are you doing here? You can’t have been following me.”
Was that hope he heard in her voice? Did she want him to follow her?
“I spotted your friends on St. James’s this morning,” he explained, “peering behind their hands, hiding in doorways. When they ran to the carriage, I caught a glimpse of you inside. I’m amazed Lord Robert didn’t see you. Did you learn nothing the last few times? It’s not safe for you out like this.”
With a rattle of tack and the clatter of horses’ hooves, the drab little carriage that had brought her drew up opposite the entrance to the alley.
“All right there, your ladyship?” the coachman called. In the light of the lamp, Jamie could see his eyes narrowed, his hand on the edge of the box, as if he meant to leap off and come to her rescue.
“Fine, Mr. Wells,” Emily called back. She waved a hand to keep him on the carriage, then lifted her head to Jamie. “You were saying?”
Jamie shook his head at her confidence. “If I meant to harm you, you’d have been dead before he got here.”
The air left her lungs in a rush. “Oh!”
He put a hand on her elbow to steady her. “Now do you see the danger?”
“Lord Robert doesn’t want to kill me,” she pointed out, but he felt a tremor go through her as if the night had turned colder. “He wants to marry me. And that, I assure you, is a far worse fate.”
“I can’t argue with that. A lady like you deserves better.” Jamie nearly groaned as his words hung in the air. What was he doing? This was no time to flirt. He had to send her home, retrace his steps, and pick up Lord Robert’s trail again. And all without the magistrate catching wind of his activities.
“Lady Emily?” Now one of her friends called, sparing her an answer, and he thought he recognized the voice of the younger Courdebas sister, the one who was forever reaching for her pencil. “If he is in league with slavers, nod once.”
Emily threw up her hands and turned. “I said I’m fine. It isn’t Lord Robert; it’s a friend. Give me a moment.”
Jamie couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice as she turned to him. “Slavers?”
She waved a hand. “Pay her no heed. I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this, but suffice it to say that I would like to prove that Lord
Robert is an insufferable brute as much as you apparently do.”
She couldn’t possibly share his motivation, not from her privileged position. “As an officer of the court, I can’t let you risk yourself like this.”
“My dear Mr. Cropper,” she said, voice sweet and sharp at the same time, “do you have a choice?”
Very little. Had she been anyone else, he might have dragged her off to Bow Street on charges of obstructing justice, public endangerment. As it was, he could not see her cooling her heels in the jail. Nor did he wish her to tell his superior how he’d found her. He sighed. “I could tell His Grace.”
He waited for her to denounce him as a bully and a babblemouth. Him, a Bow Street Runner, resorting to carrying tales!
Instead, she sighed as well. “I wish you wouldn’t worry my father. He has enough on his mind.”
She sounded sincerely concerned. “Very well,” he said, “but you’ll have to promise me you won’t follow Lord Robert again.”
“I can’t make that promise,” she said, chin rising. “I told you. I must learn his secret.”
Again he could only question her motivation. He’d feared Lord Robert had hurt her, but she didn’t seem to fear the fellow. If anything, her betrothed annoyed her beyond reason. Of course, he’d always thought she was clever.
“You can’t just cry off?” he offered. “Tell your family you don’t fancy the fellow after all?”
She snorted. “My father thinks the world of Lord Robert. And my mother wanted this match.”
Her voice was laced with emotion. He knew her mother was gone, but it seemed Lady Emily was determined to honor her memory, even if it cost her.
“Your mother couldn’t have known the man Lord Robert would become,” he reasoned. “Or the woman you would become. What might have looked like a good match years ago could have displeased her now.”
