“I am my mother’s daughter,” Daisy finally said, her voice quiet. “Diana is, too, but she is not as... not as jaded as I am, I suppose.” She looked up to find her father’s eyes closed, as if he might be staving off tears. “You gave her a home and children and everything a woman could ever want—even offered marriage—but she was her mother’s daughter. Raised to believe she had to rely on her wits and on her body.”
“Is that what Lily taught you?” James asked, the words strangled. “That you couldn’t rely on me?”
The expression of pain on his face had Daisy dipping her head in shame before she shook it. “She knew you would have to marry a peer. She knew you would have to sire an heir and a spare, and she knew that when that happened, Diana and I would have to give you up.”
His breathing quickening with her words, James shook his head. “Never,” he replied. “I would never give you up. I would never disavow you—”
“I know that now,” Daisy said gently. “Diana does, as well. But we also know you happened to have married the only woman in the entire ton who would ever welcome us with open arms as your Helen does.”
James lifted his gaze to hers, his furrowed brows relaxing a bit. “It was not an accident,” he said, thinking back to the two years he had spent in pursuit of a wife. He was well past the age where he should have been seeing to his nursery when he finally proposed to Helen Harrington. She was well past the age he should have been considering in a suitable wife, but there were more important considerations.
Such as two young women he had acknowledged as his daughters.
“Nevertheless, you have managed to do what Mother claimed could never happen,” Daisy replied. “So I find myself having to... unlearn so much of what Mother insisted I know to survive. I didn’t go to work in Whitehall because I was trying to spite you, or because I didn’t love you, or because I didn’t trust you to provide protection. I do love you. I adore you. But I had to know that I could survive on my own.”
“And now?” he asked. “You don’t have to work. You don’t have to be a headmistress.”
“No, I don’t,” Daisy agreed, a grin slowly turning into a smile. “But I like it. I wish to do it. But that’s not to say that I don’t want the other things you want for me. Someday... I might have those, too.”
Her father nodded, a grin finally lifting his eyes so they no longer appeared as if tears would escape. “But it won’t be with a fat, balding viscount,” he guessed before he took another sip of brandy.
A dimple appeared in Daisy’s cheek as she considered what had happened to her in only a few days. A fat, balding viscount would never have her heart, it was true. But a rather short, blond-haired boy had certainly opened hers to possibilities.
She drained her brandy and reveled in the warmth that spread through her body. Then she stood up, gave her father a kiss on the cheek, and bade him good-night.
Chapter 25
A Man in Need of a Mistress—or a Backbone
Meanwhile, at Bostwick Place
George Bennett-Jones rushed into his study, expecting to find his friend in an agitated state, or, at the very least, pacing the floor in front of the desk. Instead, he found Teddy sprawled in one of the room’s two upholstered chairs, a glass of brandy dangling from one hand.
“From what Elkins just told me, I feared I would find you wearing a hole in the carpet,” George said as he moved to the liquor salver behind desk. Although he rarely drank at home—he reserved the treat for his visits to White’s—he poured a finger’s worth into a glass and joined his friend by taking the other chair. “You look...” He paused, not sure how to describe the bereft man who was staring into space, as if he hadn’t even noticed George’s presence. “Like you’ve lost your best friend.”
Teddy slowly turned his gaze onto George. “She’s someone’s mistress,” he whispered.
George blinked. “She... being...?”
Giving him a quelling glance, Teddy straightened in the chair while seeing to it the last dregs of the brandy didn’t splash from his glass. “Miss Albright, of course,” he replied, his manner most impatient.
His eyes widening at hearing Daisy Albright was someone’s mistress, George gave the comment a moment of thought before he shook his head. “I rather doubt that,” he hedged. “Whatever led you to believe such a thing?”
Teddy drained the glass and allowed his head to drop back in the chair. “I saw her. Expensive dinner gown the color of a fine Burgundy, covered with a black mantle, stepping into a town coach—an expensive town coach—”
“They’re all expensive,” George murmured.
“—with a crest painted on the door.”
George angled his head, knowing immediately to whom the coach belonged.
Ariley. She was probably going to the duke’s home for dinner.
“Did you make out the crest?” George asked.
Teddy closed his eyes. “I did not. I was trying to hide at the time,” he groused.
On the one hand, George thought his friend was awfully grumpy over the situation, while on the other... well, he wondered if Teddy wasn’t just a bit too enamored with the headmistress of Warwick’s. “Tell me, my friend. When you interviewed Miss Albright for the position, did you happen to ask her any questions?”
Teddy turned to stare at his best friend. “Of course. Mostly having to do with her past work experience. She used to...” He almost mentioned her work to protect the country from traitors, but thought he best keep that to himself. He still wasn’t sure which office in Whitehall—if she worked in Whitehall—could have employed her.
“Used to...?” George prompted, curious as to how much Daisy Albright might have admitted during her interview.
“Perform administrative duties,” Teddy stated.
George’s eyebrows both arched up. Not exactly what he was expecting his friend to say, it was a perfect response given that administrative duties probably made up the majority of what Miss Albright had to do at Warwick’s. “Did you have her complete some sort of form with her personal information?”
Teddy blinked and then shook his head. “No, but... but I thought your wife’s charity had already done that.”
Giving Teddy a frown, George leaned forward, his elbows supported on his knees. “May I suggest you speak with Miss Albright?”
“What? And ask if she’s someone’s mistress?” Teddy countered, his impatience turning to anger.
Sighing, George was about to tell Teddy what he knew about the woman when he realized it wasn’t his information to tell. If Daisy Albright wanted Teddy to know she was Ariley’s illegitimate daughter, then she would have to be the one to tell him. “That might have been an appropriate question given you hired her to be the headmistress of a finishing school,” he chided. “Look. Do you really think she would have applied for your position if she was someone’s mistress?” he asked in a gentle voice. “When she could be earning ten times her hundred-pound salary—”
“Two-hundred pounds,” Teddy interrupted.
George blinked, rather stunned at hearing the amount. “Five times her two-hundred pound salary—or more—as some aristocrat’s mistress?”
Teddy slumped in his chair. “I suppose not,” he reluctantly agreed. He was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Then where in the world was she going all dressed to the nines?”
“Probably for dinner with her family,” George replied, deciding he wasn’t giving away any private information with his response. “But why don’t you ask her?”
Getting up from his chair, his wooden arm banging against his thigh as he did so, Teddy said, “I will. In the morning. And I swear, if she isn’t there, then I’ll know she spent the night—”
“Careful,” George said in a patient voice. “If she’s having dinner with her family, she may also spend the night at their house,” he warned. “In which case, you’ll have spent the night fighting the Green Monster over nothing.”
For a moment, Teddy looked as if he was s
atisfied with George’s explanation. Then his expression changed to one of pain. “What’s wrong with me, George?” He rolled his eyes. “Besides the fact that I’m missing an arm?”
The viscount gave a slow shake of his head. “You, I fear, are probably in love. Definitely in lust.”
“Lust. It’s true. Yes,” Teddy agreed. “I like her. She’s... she’s smart, and she’s beautiful, and you should see what she’s done to my mother’s old apartment.”
George did a double-take. “You’ve been in her apartment?”
Teddy held up his hand, immediately regretting having made the comment. “She invited me for tea with the theatre instructor. Mrs. Fitzgerald. Strange woman, that one, but it was all very proper.”
Giving his friend a dubious gaze, George asked, “Did you invite Miss Albright to attend the theatre with us?”
“I did,” Teddy replied with a nod. “And she’s going to bring her evening clothes with her so she can change here. She said she didn’t want to make us late, what with the tea Lady Bostwick is hosting and all.”
George’s expression proved his appreciation for Miss Albright’s foresight. “That’s very good of her. If you play your cards right, I believe I can see to it you two will be left alone for a bit of time. That is, if you want to be left alone with her,” he teased.
Teddy blinked. “You would do that? I would be forever grateful.”
George gave a shrug. “Prepare to be grateful.”
“You’re a sport. I may even let you win our next match,” Teddy claimed, his manner no longer so morose. With that, the bank clerk took his leave of Bostwick Place. Although he wasn’t completely convinced of Miss Albright’s innocence, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.
This one time.
Chapter 26
A Pirate from the Past
Friday morning
Daisy regarded the white exterior of Horse Guards from across the street, still a bit unsure as to whom she might meet with regarding the whereabouts of Nicholas Barnaby.
Poor Miss Crofter. She deserved to know what had become of her betrothed. Especially before she could disabuse any more young women of the value of men in general.
Nicholas Barnaby.
The name niggled at her brain. She was sure she had heard of him before, but she couldn’t place just where. Perhaps she had seen the name in print, in a report, or on a list, or... she shook her head and crossed the street, determined to keep from limping as she did so. Despite the early hour, traffic was heavy in Whitehall.
The duke’s coach had delivered her to Omega House at half-past seven. She might have arrived a bit earlier, but she had paid a call to the nursery just before seven. Both her half siblings were wide awake, dressed, and in the middle of their breakfasts. Lady Rose smelled of wool and milk and a hint of rosewater. Lord William beamed at her appearance, his twin dimples denting chubby cheeks. Days-ee, he had said. He struggled to get up from his small chair so that he could afford her a bow that nearly had him toppling over. Before he was upright, she had him held in her arms.
Look after our sister, and I shall see you again soon, she had promised.
For a moment, she had considered staying in the nursery the rest of the day. But reminded it was Friday by the nurse, she thought of the boys from St. Martin’s who would be coming for dance class at eleven.
She also thought about Miss Crofter and Nicholas Barnaby.
Once she was back at Warwick’s, she shed her dinner gown in favor of a printed muslin day gown. At eight o’clock, she left a note on her office door that explained she would be back before eleven and then hailed a hackney.
Now she wondered if she might be on a fool’s errand.
Having reported to one of the other nearby buildings a number of times—Lord Chamberlain’s office was located in a smaller structure in the corner of the complex—Daisy didn’t feel the least bit nervous. But she had to admit to experiencing a bit of impatience. She had to be back in time to teach the dance class, and she feared she might use up two hours merely looking for the correct office in which to make her query.
Daisy paused just inside one of the entrances until her eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior. Hoping to locate a receptionist or at least a list of offices, she was halfway down the hall when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Slowing down a bit, she studied the faces of those who passed her in the hall. Few paid her any mind, but one had stopped in his tracks and was staring at her.
“Alex,” she whispered. Her heart hammered as she approached her former colleague. Intending to stop and curtsy before offering a hand, Daisy was instead pulled into a hug by the man who had been her first lover.
“Daisy!” the man exclaimed before he suddenly let go, stepped back, and bowed. “Forgive me,” he managed in a quieter voice. “You... you’ve caught me completely by surprise. Quite a feat, you must know.”
A brilliant smile appeared on Daisy’s face as she took in the sight of Alex Bradley. A dozen memories flashed before her eyes, and from the expression on his face, she could tell Alex was reliving some of the very same ones. “There’s nothing to forgive. In fact, I am the one who must beg forgiveness. I should have sought you out when I first returned to London,” she said. “Are you well?”
Alex sighed and offered an arm. “I am. My office is down the hall. We can speak freely there,” he said.
“Office?” she repeated. In the years she had known the operative, she had never known him to have an office. He had a desk near Lord Chamberlain’s office, although he was rarely there.
He opened a door and waved her in. “It’s not much, but it’s what was available for my current assignment,” he said as he shut the door. “I’m not at liberty to say what that is, exactly,” he added with a shrug.
“Nor would I expect you to,” Daisy replied as she glanced around the small room. Besides a desk, two chairs, and a few filing cabinets, there was only a hook by the door for a coat. The walls hadn’t seen a new coat of paint in probably fifty years. She took a deep breath. “I understand congratulations are in order. I do hope you’re enjoying life as a married man,” she said as she took one of the chairs.
Truth be told, she couldn’t imagine the operative married. His assignments usually required he take on the persona of a sea captain—a pirate named Jack Crawley—charged with finding the sources for smuggled goods, or boarding ships that carried contraband to England and then stealing it.
Alex regarded her a moment before allowing a nod. He sat at his desk. “I am,” he finally admitted. “She’s Mykonian. Most unexpected thing that has ever happened to me. I met her while I was on a mission to locate a missing duke,” he explained. “She’s brave and beautiful. Loves living in London, especially since she is best friends with Lord Everly’s countess.”
That tidbit explained why Nike Xenakis would agree to leave her home island in the Cyclades and live in London.
And what about her best friend? “The Countess Everly is Westhaven’s daughter, is she not?” Daisy asked, remembering the notice in The Times about the wedding of the Earl of Everly to the only daughter of Alexander Jones, Duke of Westhaven. Lady Estelle had attended Warwick’s the year of her come-out. With a Mykonian mother and an English duke for a father, Estelle didn’t quite fit as a daughter of the ton. Daisy could certainly empathize, given her own situation.
At least Lady Estelle was legitimate.
Alex seemed to struggle a moment. “I must say, though, I...” He sighed, as if he decided it better he not put voice to any sort of confession.
“If you were under some sort of impression that I expected an offer of marriage, please know that I did not. At some point in the future, I might have been amenable, of course, but—”
“I’ve worried about you, Daisy. About what happened in York,” Alex interrupted, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his messy desk. “Not so much about... Lord Plymouth, of course. But the other one. Did Longburn... did he hurt you?”
Da
isy’s eyes widened, realizing Alex had imagined the worst when it came to what she might be expected to do in her role as a mistress to the smuggler. “He did not,” she said with a shake of her head. “And I didn’t have to play Myles Longborn’s mistress for long before I learned he was the one paying for all that smuggled liquor,” she added. “I admit, it was a relief when I was able to get word to the authorities. He was arrested whilst caught in the act, so to speak.”
“You disappeared, though,” he argued.
A bit taken aback by his accusation, Daisy shook her head. “I came back to London by stagecoach and reported to Lord Chamberlain. Told him I wanted a few weeks off to clean off the stench of the assignment, and then I left,” she explained, giving a dismissive wave with one hand. She didn’t add that she had been told there wouldn’t be any more assignments. Not with the way her limp made her easy to identify.
“But, where did you go?” he asked in dismay.
From the way he asked the question, Daisy wondered if he had searched for her. “My childhood home. In Kent. My father lives in London most of the year now, so the country estate seemed the perfect place to stay. And it was,” she claimed, hoping he couldn’t see through her white lie.
The problem with her childhood home was that it held too many memories of her mother. At that point in her life, she wanted her mother. Needed her mother’s shoulder to cry on and to hear assurances that she hadn’t made a mistake in playing mistress as part of her undercover work for King and country.
Every day she was there, she relived the pleasant memories of her time with Ethan Range, Marquess of Plymouth. For the last week she was there, she was sure she would be thinking of him every time she held his babe in her arms.
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