Trifling Favors (Redcakes Book 7)

by Heather Hiestand

  Greggory sat, confused, in the parlor for fifteen minutes, occasionally peeking at the ring next to him on the sofa. He wondered if the diamond had been Betsy’s breaking point. After ten minutes, he’d remembered the story of his cousin Alys, and how angry she’d been when Uncle Bartley fired her from her position so she would act like a lady and not embarrass her younger sisters. Here he was, trying to marry the girl who had once been his cousin’s close companion, and he’d attempted to sack her before offering her a ring.

  Surely that was the heart of the difference, though? Uncle Bartley had taken away Alys’s position when there was no husband to hand. Betsy had him. She knew she couldn’t keep working at Redcake’s, didn’t she? What would he have to do, give his business to Betsy, like Alys’s husband had done, to make her happy again?

  He wasn’t sure he could do that. Lord Hatbrook had other interests. Redcake’s was Greggory’s life, outside of the babies. That feeling of desperation at the idea of losing his teashop gave him a slight clue as to what Betsy would be feeling. At least he could play with the idea of a hotel investment, but she had no money. With that, he went upstairs to attempt to reason with her.

  He accessed the little sitting room at the top of the house easily enough, but the bedroom door was locked. Knocking, he called Betsy’s name. He put his ear to the door and heard footsteps approaching, but instead of the sound of the key in the lock, he heard her voice.

  “Yes?” Her voice sounded strained.

  “It’s Greggory. I’m sorry I was so abrupt. I should have thought more about how hard it would be for you to leave your position, though surely you understand the necessity of it. You aren’t well, my darling.”

  “You want a sickly wife?”

  “I accept that you are going to have my child, whatever the next nine months holds for your health. We need to marry.”

  “And you thought spending a fortune on that ring would make it romantic somehow?”

  He heard the derision in her voice. “It’s meant to symbolize our bond.”

  “It’s meant to show status. See me, the wife of a wealthy man,” Betsy snapped.

  His voice lifted. “Well, I’m not poor. I’m the oldest on my side this generation. And there’s Letty’s money, too. I can afford the ring, if you are concerned about that.”

  “It’s my salary, Greggory.”

  “What the business can afford is different from what I can afford. I know you understand that much.”

  “Don’t underestimate my intelligence,” she snapped again.

  “You know me better than that. I’ve been respecting your brain for two years. It’s only recently I’ve had the opportunity to appreciate the rest of you.”

  “Which do you prefer?” she asked in a dangerously calm tone.

  He sighed, feeling his own temper start to rise. “Managing my home will be hard work in itself, Betsy, but I know very well how capable you are. You’ve seen the servant problem up close now. And the children. You won’t be bored. Mrs. Roach can only manage so much.”

  “I thought I was supposed to stay in bed and read sermons and wait for the child to be born.”

  “Don’t be silly. You will have to rest for a while, but then you will probably feel quite well. We’ve discussed this. You’re going to wear the ring, and have a nice dress, and get married at St. Mary Abbots Church before the end of June.”

  “I don’t want to do any of that.”

  “Don’t you want to marry me?” His hand went into a fist automatically, and he wanted to pound on the door, but his relationship with Betsy had been founded in the workplace. Giving in to emotion seemed beneath them both.

  She didn’t answer. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed. She really didn’t want to marry him. How could he have done this to himself, destroyed both his work and his home life? Of all the people in his life, he’d never foreseen Betsy Popham would make him so unhappy. His chin sank to his chest. He’d always been more of a lover than a fighter, according to his family, and this girl didn’t want a lover, it seemed.

  He leaned against the wall with no idea what to do. But Prissy had prodded him into this. Could she help, find a way to remove Betsy from her locked-door exile?

  Without saying any more useless things through the door, he went downstairs and asked Mrs. Roach to send the parlormaid to the Fair home to collect Prissy, then went to oversee his children’s dinners.

  About an hour later, he was dressing Artie while the nursery maid saw to Sia’s bath, when the parlormaid came upstairs to announce that Prissy had come. “Send her up to Miss Popham’s room,” he instructed as he covered his son’s feet.

  Half an hour later, the maid appeared again and said Prissy was in the parlor and wanted to speak to him. What he wanted was to hear Betsy’s footsteps coming down the stairs, but with the nursery door shut he couldn’t hear what went on in the house. He tucked the almost-asleep Artie into his bed and left the room.

  “No Betsy, I see,” he said, as he entered the parlor.

  Prissy stood in front of the fireplace, apparently admiring the attractive embroidered screen Letty had made for the summer months.

  “Letty loved violets,” he continued. “Purple was her favorite color.”

  “I hate them,” Prissy said. “Violets. I would like never to hear of them again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Violet.” She paused. “And Victor.”

  Prissy turned around, and he saw swollen skin around her eye. Her lip had a cut on the upper left side.

  “What happened?” he asked, momentarily forgetting why Prissy was there.

  “Victor happened.” Her lips trembled, and she reached out a hand for him.

  He had the odd feeling that if he took her hand, she’d fall into his arms, and he couldn’t permit that. Stepping back, he asked, “Where did you run across him?”

  “He came to the Fairs’ rooms.” She stared at him with what seemed like hope in her eyes for a moment, then twisted her hands together. “He demanded money, but I didn’t have any, and I don’t know where the Fairs keep theirs. He hit me four times, and Violet, she just stood there.” Prissy trembled violently.

  “My dear woman,” Greggory exclaimed, allowing the awkward moment to pass. “Why didn’t you come to see me at once? I wouldn’t have expected you to try to help Betsy in such a state.”

  “She wouldn’t open the door.”

  “Did you tell her what happened?”

  “No. Troubling a pregnant woman is cruel,” Prissy said. Her shoulders slumped. “At least you can keep her safe.”

  “It must have been Victor who tried to break in,” he mused.

  “With his accomplice sister.” Prissy’s hands shook as she wiped at her eyes. She pointed to a bundle on his sofa. “I’m going to Bristol for a while. Mrs. Fair doesn’t want me risking her family, and I don’t blame her. Maybe I can come back for your wedding, I don’t know. Can you make Betsy understand?”

  “Of course, but you need to go to the police so they can see your face.” He wanted to delay her. Who was going to help him with Betsy now? But he didn’t want to be alone with Prissy either.

  She shook her head. “I’m taking the next train out of Paddington Station. I have friends in Bristol, and the Carters won’t be able to find me before the police find them.”

  “Very well,” Greggory said, damning the Carters. He went to his desk in the corner and took out a piece of paper and a pencil. “Tell me what happened first, so I can report it.”

  He wrote rapidly as she described the attack and sketched her wounds, then unlocked a drawer in the desk and pulled out a pouch. “This is all the money I have on hand, but it will buy your ticket and pay some of your expenses.”

  “I shouldn’t,” Prissy said.

  “Of course you should. We’ll be family soon enough, and I’m sure Mrs. Fair owes you wages.”

  Prissy touched her lip. “She does, but hopefully I can return to London soon, before she hires another seams
tress.”

  He didn’t like those odds. Would he have to support an unmarried sister? “I’m sorry to ask, but did Betsy say anything to you at all when you went to the door?”

  “No, but she might have gone to sleep by now.”

  Greggory nodded. “Are the Fairs well? Did Victor threaten or injure them?”

  Prissy hesitated. “No. They caught me outside the building.”

  “I see.” Greggory rang for a servant. When the parlormaid arrived, he requested she make a sandwich for Prissy and call for a hansom cab so that she didn’t have to walk to the train station. Fifteen minutes later, Prissy was on her way, having spent the extra time tidying herself and selecting some of the magazines in the household to take on her journey.

  After she left, Greggory remembered the dresses he’d paid for that now would not be made, but no matter. Prissy’s safety was more important. He wondered about the desperation of the Carters and what they might do next.

  First of all, however, he needed to check on Betsy. When he’d been in his desk, he’d noticed his extra set of household keys. Now he could access Betsy’s bedroom. While he knew it could be catastrophic for their relationship for him to enter her room unwelcome, he felt she needed to be warned about the Carters, and also informed about her sister.

  When he reached the top floor, he found Ralph in the sitting room, already attired for bed.

  “I’m so sorry,” Greggory exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I wanted to check on Betsy.”

  “Is there a problem?” Ralph frowned and set down the rosary he’d been holding.

  “She was upset and I asked Prissy to visit.”

  “Did she set Betsy to rights?”

  “No, she thought Betsy was asleep. But then I saw Prissy’s face and discovered she’d been beaten by Victor Carter. I gave her money to go to Bristol and get away from all this nonsense.”

  Ralph put his hand to his chest. “You don’t think Victor has broken into Betsy’s room, do you?”

  Greggory stared at him, thunderstruck. “No, it’s impossible. No one could access the windows up here.”

  “Even so.” Ralph frowned.

  Greggory decided there was no point in hiding the keys from Ralph. He put the extra key in the lock and both men went into the bedroom. The curtains were pulled, making the room extremely dark. Greggory crossed to the windows and pulled them open, while Ralph went back for his paraffin lamp.

  With the aid of light, Greggory could see Betsy lay on her bed fast asleep, the coverlet half underneath her, half over.

  “Poor girl, the stress, it must be,” Ralph said, peering down at her, holding his lamp. He went to the window. “Should I stay in here tonight, in case the Carters try to break in?”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “That armchair will do me,” Ralph said, pointing to an overstuffed red velvet chair, complete with ottoman, Letty had inherited from an aunt and banished upstairs.

  “Very good. I’ll sleep in my dressing room. It’s above the kitchen, so I’ll hear if anyone tries to come in through the back again.” He couldn’t recall whether Prissy had said they’d taken any money from her. How desperate would they be tonight?

  “Strange times, Mr. Redcake,” Ralph said. “Strange times.”

  Greggory nodded. And there was so much Ralph didn’t yet know. “Good night.” He left the room after one last glance at the sleeping Betsy, who hadn’t stirred at all. Early pregnancy exhaustion. He remembered it well, and could only wish he had the comfort of a religious artifact, as Ralph did, to pray that she’d come through this better than Letty had.

  “I had a thought,” Greggory said when Betsy entered his office the next day, just after what had been the luncheon rush. She’d gone to work long before he’d even breakfasted that morning, probably to make sure she was allowed to go. He hoped she didn’t think he was going to force her to do anything, but she needed to be persuaded to care for herself properly.

  “What?” she asked, seating herself in the armchair across from him. She looked much the same as ever, in a white blouse and black skirt, her beautiful hair carefully contained and coiled on top of her head, except her bangs, which needed trimming.

  “Why don’t you manage the bakery for me? You won’t have as many stairs to climb, and you won’t have to work as many hours, because it is a new position.”

  “You want to hire a different assistant manager?” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, he saw they were rimmed with red. “Greggory, what if I’m wrong about the baby?”

  “By the time you know that, we’ll already be married,” he pointed out. “And soon we’ll have happy news anyway.”

  “You are saying that if I discovered my news were different, at any time in the next three weeks, you’d marry me anyway?”

  “That is the entire point of courtship.” He smiled at her. “To see if you want to marry someone, and I do.”

  “I locked myself in my room last night after I rejected you.”

  “I took it to be a rejection of the fancy ring.”

  Her smile was halfhearted. “You have a high opinion of yourself.”

  “I don’t think you’d have been intimate with me if you didn’t care. I have faith that you’ll forgive me.”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m so tired. It is hard to see clearly.”

  “You needed to sleep,” he said. “None of the rest of the drama last night had anything to do with you.”

  She pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Mrs. Roach said Victor had attacked Prissy. Was it very bad?”

  He detailed her sister’s injuries to her.

  “My goodness. I know he’s capable of it. And now I’ve lost my sister, and Mrs. Fair has lost her employee.” She shook her head.

  “And you’ve lost your wedding dress.”

  “Mrs. Fair can make it,” Betsy said absently. “I imagine Prissy shared the details of our conversation.”

  “If she had time. But she said the Fairs weren’t home.”

  “I should check on them. I’ll go to see Grace. She should be working today.” But she didn’t rise.

  “See Grace downstairs of course, but I don’t want you going to the Fairs’ home alone. You can’t risk being attacked.”

  She nodded. “I know you are right. That poor family. We need to make the police aware of the situation.”

  “I did just that before I came in,” he assured her.

  “I’ll send a note to Mrs. Fair to see what she says about the wedding dress,” Betsy said. “Are you absolutely certain I cannot continue to be your assistant? Lady Hatbrook owns the flagship Redcake’s.”

  “Lord Judah runs it,” he countered.

  “I wonder if Lady Hatbrook is any more active in the business, now that her youngest is two years old.”

  “Ask her,” Greggory said.

  “I will,” Betsy said. “But you are right. Managing the bakery might be the right-sized job for a wife. The same position as my father.”

  “I know it seems like a step in the wrong direction.”

  “I thought to have a Redcake’s all to myself one day. Like the one your brother was speaking about having in that hotel.”

  “Surely you expected to marry? A pretty girl like you?”

  “A murderess’s daughter,” she reminded him. “Many men wouldn’t have me for fear of what their children might become.”

  “I know you, and I know your father. I’m not concerned,” Greggory said. He stood up from his chair and perched on the armrest of hers. “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to have a rational conversation about our prospects. I know I’m asking you to take on a different life, without much time to prepare for it.”

  “You always have asked me to be more than I expected myself capable.” She smiled at him. “But I appreciate your being willing to give me some piece of my old life.”

  He didn’t think she’d want to stay the bakery manager long, not when she was in the final months of
pregnancy, and then dealing with the demands of a newborn. But he’d never tell her that. However, he had all the more reason to find a truly good nanny now, so that if she did surprise him, they would have a good staff for the children.

  “I promise I’ll always share the details with you,” he said. “Even if you are at home. I’ve always enjoyed discussing the business of the day with you, and I’d miss that.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled tentatively.

  “Do you think you might be ready to wear that ring for me now?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He leaned back. “No?”

  She put her hand on his knee. “Not for the reason you think. It’s too risky. We don’t know where Simon Hellman is, but Victor is on the loose. He would take my finger off with the ring, if he could, and pawn it.”

  Greggory blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that. What a fool you must think me, to put you at risk.”

  She patted his knee again, clearly not realizing she was starting a reaction in other parts of his body. “You were trying to make me feel special. I never, ever in my life, thought a man would give me a ring like that. I panicked immediately, without ever considering how risky it would be to wear it. This morning the thought came to me, though.”

  He put his hand over hers to stop the patting. If much more blood raced in the direction it was heading, he’d be tossing his fiancée’s skirt over her head and attempting to have his way with her.

  “I’ll put the ring in the safe, right here in my office. It’s the best place because we have the night guards. You can wear it when the Carter situation is resolved.”

  She turned her hand over so she could clasp his hand. “I think that is for the best. And Greggory?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have a direction for Prissy? I’d like to write to her.”

  “She was to stay with friends. The cab took her directly to the train station. I’m sure you’ll hear from her in a day or two. She’ll want to continue expressing her opinion about your wedding dress, I’m sure.”