by Jayne Davis
Luis poked the tool in further. “I think so.” He twisted it, hearing a quiet snick.
“Good, now put the—”
Luis swore under his breath as the door opened—he didn’t need an interruption now he was getting somewhere.
“Can he do it yet?”
Don Felipe. Who else would walk into someone else’s rooms without even bothering to knock?
“It’s not something you can learn in an hour,” Ben snapped.
Luis hid a smile as he turned to face Don Felipe. “I’m improving,” he said. “I just need practice.” Quite a lot of practice, but he wasn’t going to tell Don Felipe that.
“Good.” Don Felipe looked at Ben. “Leave us.”
Ben muttered a curse as he slammed the door.
“Are you going to tell me why I need to open locks?”
Don Felipe sat on the chair Ben had been occupying. “Sir Edward Milton works in the Admiralty.”
Luis sat up straighter, dropping the picklocks. This sounded like the business he was here for.
“He is known to sometimes take documents home with him for review. Documents we want sight of.”
Luis nodded.
“Your relationship with his wife needs to be close enough for you to have access to their house. We will let you know when Milton is likely to have suitable documents at home. You will locate these documents, read them, and repeat to me what they say.”
Remember whole documents?
“Why not send someone like Ben to steal them?” Ben would have little difficulty breaking into a house.
Don Felipe rolled his eyes. “If they are stolen, then Milton will know the information has been passed on. If what you report is of interest, we may steal one to be copied and then returned, but the chance of something being missed while the copying is happening is too great for us to do that with all documents. And before you suggest it, Ben cannot go because he cannot read fast enough with full comprehension.”
“Won’t Milton be in the house when the documents are there?”
“Possibly. But you should be able to learn your way about the house, find hiding places or arrange to leave a window unlatched.” Don Felipe waved a hand as if such sordid details were beneath him.
Luis fiddled with the picklocks. He had no experience of… of burglary. About to suggest that Ben could help him, he thought better of it. It was a good idea, but mentioning it might make Don Felipe think he could not accomplish this task himself.
“So, I need to be more friendly with Lady Milton,” he said. “Is that all?”
“Lady Sudbury. How are you progressing with her? You haven’t been seen with her very often.”
“Is her husband in the government as well?”
“No. How are you prog—?”
“Well enough,” Luis said, annoyed at Don Felipe’s manner. “What am I to do with her?”
“Bed her. Talk to her. Find out what her other lovers have told her.”
Luis’ brows rose. “How many does she have?”
Don Felipe shrugged. “The number is not important, but one of them is a Mr Trantor. If he is as loose-mouthed as we hope, you may get something of value there.”
“Very well.” He wondered how much of her chatter he’d have to put up with to hear anything useful. He wasn’t even sure what Don Felipe would consider worth knowing, but he’d been told too many times that he’d be informed when it became necessary.
“Then there’s the Stanlake girl.” Don Felipe went on. “I have discovered she is daughter to the Earl of Marstone, and so is of some interest. However I wouldn’t recommend seducing her—the brother’s not averse to duelling, and considered a good shot.”
“I can shoot—”
Don Felipe banged his hand down on the table. “You fool! If you get caught ruining the girl, I don’t give a damn if Wingrave kills you. Your usefulness would be at an end. The point is not to draw attention to yourself by causing a scandal.”
“What do you want from Lady Isabella? Information about her father?”
“No. He’s old, hardly leaves his house, from what Lady Brigham says. It’s Wingrave we’re interested in, the heir. He’s in France at the moment, something to do with preparing for the peace negotiations. But there are rumours that he is not merely a diplomat. Gain the girl’s confidence. She may not know anything, but she could be a way to get closer to Wingrave when he returns.”
Well, that part of his task should not be too difficult or unpleasant.
Don Felipe’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood. “That is all. I will be observing your progress.”
Luis clenched his jaws against a retort and took a deep breath as Don Felipe left. He’d come this far—it would not do to lose his temper with the man now. Another few breaths and he felt calm enough to tackle the locked box again. This time he heard a satisfying click as the internal bolt moved.
“Are you well, Bella?” Aunt Aurelia asked as Bella entered the breakfast room. “You are usually up much earlier than this.” She had finished her own repast, and was busy with her usual sorting of calling cards.
“I am well, Aunt,” Bella said, taking her seat and waiting while the footman brought her hot chocolate. In truth, she felt almost as tired as she had last night. She had not slept well, the menace of the two men who had followed them in St Giles interrupting her sleep. Waking from the nightmares, she had stared into the darkness above her bed. Had she even understood the true extent of their danger?
Molly had mentioned robbery or worse, and Mr Carterton had implied the same. What had they meant? She’d intended to ask Molly this morning, but by the time she’d written her letter of apology and asked Molly to take it to Langton, she was late for breakfast.
“Are you sure?” Aunt Aurelia put the cards down and regarded Bella intently. “You claimed you were tired yesterday afternoon, and you left the rout early last night. A young girl like you should have more stamina. I do hope you are not sickening for something.”
“I’m well, Aunt.” Yesterday afternoon’s tiredness had partly been an excuse not to accompany her aunt on social calls.
Aunt Aurelia nodded and returned her attention to the cards. Bella drank her chocolate, and ate spiced rolls spread with butter and honey, beginning to feel a little better with some breakfast inside her.
“I have sent an acceptance to Lady Durridge’s musicale this evening. She invites all the best people, although it will not be the ideal place to attract suitors.”
Bella sighed. Had her aunt ever attended an event—other than a card party—simply to enjoy herself?
“Then there is our trip to Vauxhall in a few days.”
That sounded more interesting than routs and musicales.
“Hmm. Lady Yelland invites us to a ball next week.” Aunt Aurelia put the cards to one side. “Will you be ready to dance if I accept that invitation? I will watch part of your lesson this morning, to see how you are getting on.”
“I… I think I will be ready.” She could remember the steps with Herr Weber, although she wasn’t sure she had enough confidence to perform in public. But she had to try some time.
“Good. We should call on Lady Margate when we are out this afternoon. I hear she has returned to Town.”
“Yes, Aunt.” Bella suppressed a sigh. Lizzie and Theresa’s letters hadn’t said how boring a season would be, but perhaps with Will and his wife in Town their season had been more than a seemingly endless round of calls. “Didn’t you say you would take me to the British Museum, and tell me which objects I should admire?” If only Will were here—a visit such as that would be entertaining.
The butler knocked and entered, holding out a silver salver with a sealed note. “My lady, there is a footman awaiting a response.”
Aunt Aurelia’s lips curved in a smile as she read the note. A satisfied smile, Bella thought, with foreboding. Not Lord Narwood, please!
“Mr Carterton invites you to a drive in the park this afternoon,” her aunt said. “Mowb
ray, tell the footman the invitation is accepted.”
That was quick—he must have written as soon as Langton delivered her note. If he’d accepted her apology, he might not be too angry with her.
“I suspect Marstone is after someone of higher rank than a baron, but he did not specify,” Aunt Aurelia said. “Carterton would do if Narwood or Barnton do not come up to scratch.”
“Must my husband be English, Aunt?”
“Hmm. I suppose you’d be living closer to Theresa if you could find a Scottish lord.” Aunt Aurelia paused. “Isabella, you’re not thinking of that Portuguese, are you?”
Bella felt heat rise to her cheeks.
“You’d do best to put him out of your mind. Marstone is not likely to accept a foreigner.”
“He’s the son of a viscount. Is that not high enough?”
“Not the heir, I understand, so almost certainly not. Is he like to offer for you, Isabella?”
Bella looked away. “I don’t know, Aunt, but I do like him. I know you and father don’t care whether I like my future husband, but—”
“Don’t tar me with the same brush as my brother, Isabella. I am not so unfeeling. I would not see you wed to a man you detest, or are afraid of.”
“Then why do you keep mentioning Lord Narwood?” Bella asked.
“What is wrong with him? He is older than you, to be sure, but that can be a good thing. He’s not been in Town often, so I know little about him.”
“I… It’s the way he talks to me. Last night he was looking down my gown, and asking how many children Theresa and Lizzie have. He probably only wants an heir, and someone who will be obedient.”
“Most men want an obedient wife, my dear. He knows far more of the world than you.”
“Of course he does—even the scullery maids know more than I do! Apart from a few weeks in Town the first time Papa tried to marry off my sisters, I’ve never left Marstone Park. Even then I wasn’t allowed out of this house. How am I ever to learn anything if everyone just tells me what to do all the time?”
Bella waited for a reprimand for raising her voice. It didn’t come.
“I always said Marstone was a fool.” Aunt Aurelia leaned over and patted Bella’s hand. “Now, most men want an heir. What is different about Lord Narwood?”
“I… I don’t know. He makes me feel…” She closed her eyes in frustration. “I can’t describe it, but I know I don’t like it.”
“I will not encourage him, then. But once Marstone gets wind of his interest, you will find it hard to avoid him. You’d better make sure someone like Lord Barnton makes an offer first.”
“Will Papa know?”
“Undoubtedly. Some of the staff will be reporting back. He’d be here to make sure we were doing his bidding if he hadn’t made himself ill raging at me.”
Bella nodded—sometimes her father’s temper could be an advantage.
“He’ll come to Town as soon as he’s well enough to travel. Hopefully that will be some weeks. He was an obnoxious bully when he was a boy, and he’s only got worse since.”
It was a relief to feel she wasn’t an unnatural daughter for fearing and disliking her father.
“Make sure you look your best this afternoon, Bella—Carterton’s not the highest ranking of your suitors, but I think Marstone sees some political advantage to that match. Unless you’ve taken a dislike to him too?”
“No, Aunt.” She didn’t dislike him at all. In fact, she quite liked him when he wasn’t telling her off or issuing orders—and he did have the excuse of acting in Will’s stead. Thank goodness her aunt didn’t know the reason for his invitation.
Chapter 12
Driving his phaeton to Grosvenor Square, Nick thought over Lady Isabella’s letter. It had shown far more maturity than he’d expected—her apology had been handsome, and she’d given a concise but complete explanation as to why she’d ventured into such an area. The whole was a far cry from the overdone politeness with which she’d rejected his reprimand last night.
The letter also begged for advice, so he had to talk to her today even if it caused the aunt to think he was a suitor. If he didn’t help her find the seamstress, would she try again on her own? The consequences of that didn’t bear thinking about.
Lady Isabella came down the steps as he drew up outside. She gave a wary smile as his groom handed her into the phaeton, but didn’t speak until they’d turned into Hyde Park. “Did you receive my note?”
“I did, thank you.” He pulled the phaeton to a halt and told his groom to wait for him by the gate, then guided the horses towards one of the lesser-used drives. “I accept your apology. Do not look so apprehensive, Lady Isabella, I am not going to repeat what I said yesterday.”
“You would have been justified in saying more,” she said, her hands clenched in her lap. “Will would not have been as polite.”
“Would he sympathise with your intent, do you think?”
“Yes, I think so.” Her mouth set in determination as she looked up at him. “But I would try to help Fletcher whether or not he approved.”
“She’s only a seamstress,” he pointed out, curious to see her reaction.
“She’s a person, and it was my fault she was turned off. Should I ignore that?” She took a breath. “Are you suggesting I forget about it?”
“No. But your wish to help is rare amongst our class. Most have no idea how others live.”
“I only know how people live in Over Minster. That’s where my maid lives near Marstone Park, but I’ve never seen their homes. Molly’s family aren’t—” She broke off, biting her lips.
Nick cursed Marstone under his breath—if his guess was correct, Lady Isabella’s only confidante since her sisters married had been her maid. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. That is why I asked if you could advise me. Langton has the address, but I don’t know what he’d do if Fletcher isn’t there.”
“Why didn’t you just send him yesterday?”
She looked down at her hands again.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Nick said. “My help is not contingent on getting an explanation.”
“It was partly because I didn’t understand how dangerous it might be. I knew I might be robbed, so I took only a little money with me, and wore old clothes.” She smoothed a hand across her gown—fashionably new, as far as he could tell, and flattering. “I didn’t realise how much even my oldest gowns would stand out.”
How could she?
“Molly said something about stealing clothing—I never thought people would do that. But you said something last night about robbery being the least of my worries. What did you mean?”
Good grief—he could not explain brothels to Lady Isabella. He let his hands drop, and the horses came to a stop.
She crossed her arms, her chin rising. “It is hardly surprising that I make mistakes, Mr Carterton, when no-one will explain things to me.”
She had a point. “It’s not a proper subject for me to discuss with you. With any lady,” he corrected himself.
“So something bad might have happened to me, but I’m not allowed to know what it is?”
Nick sighed. Society would not approve of his telling her.
Hang society’s rules.
“Do you know what happens between a man and wife?” He hoped he didn’t have to explain that. To his relief, she nodded.
“Molly told me about it. It’s the same as animals do.”
He winced.
“Is that wrong?”
“Not exactly, but most people would not take kindly to such a comparison.”
She shrugged. “Well, it sounds most uncomfortable and unpleasant.”
It sounded ridiculous, to his mind, if one only described the mechanics. “It isn’t, if—” No, he would not go into any more detail. He hoped she married someone who could show her there was far more to it than that.
She was regarding him expectantly, so he made himself continue with his warning. �
��But imagine being forced to take part in that act with men you do not know or like.”
“As I would be if Papa marries me off to a suitor of his choosing?”
That gave him pause—the act would be carried out within matrimony, but he could see how it might feel little different from prostitution to the woman involved. “Worse than that. Lots of different men. Men like the ones who almost attacked you yesterday. If you are lucky, they may not hurt you, and some of them might even pay you.”
She digested that in silence for a moment. “There was a woman in a fancy dress. She tried to talk to Senhor da Gama…” Her expression became grim. “Is that… is that what Fletcher will have to do if she cannot get another position?”
“Quite possibly. It is the last resort for many women, I’m afraid.”
“I was right to want to help her, then. But what has that to do with me? Do you mean someone might force me to… to do that?”
“And worse,” he muttered, not intending her to hear. Lady Isabella, unfortunately, appeared to have very good hearing.
“What do you mean?”
Damn it, why had he started on this explanation?
“Mr Carterton?”
“Your brother would have my head if he knew what I was saying to you. And you really do not want to know, Lady Isabella.”
She said nothing in reply. Relieved at first, he took in her pursed lips and frown, and wondered if he should explain further. He set the horses in motion again with a flick of the reins and waited to see what she would say.
Bella had no doubt that whatever it was would be unpleasant hearing, and that Mr Carterton thought he was doing what was best for her. Everyone else thought they knew better than she did. In many cases—most cases—they would be correct. Men made the decisions for women because they knew more about the world, and made sure they stayed in charge by preventing women learning anything for themselves.
But she was here to help Fletcher. She must not let her resentment towards Mr Carterton—and men in general—prevent her from achieving that goal.
“What will you do if you find her?” Mr Carterton asked.
“Give her some money, I suppose.” She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t thought beyond that. His expression hadn’t changed, but somehow she knew he didn’t approve. “You are about to say that’s the wrong thing to do, aren’t you?”
