Edward’s reaction was to say no, but something made him stop. “She was crying when she told me, making no sense. Said Holliday had planned to sell their children to Lord Frethers.” Edward was halfway into a confused shrug when he noted Dervish’s face.
It had gone curiously blank, and it was white and slick, like he had a fever.
“You know what she meant, don’t you?” He spoke slowly.
Dervish gave a shuddering sigh, and then forced himself to look disinterested. “I’ve heard Frethers likes little boys, yes.”
“My God. You mean Frethers … ?” A deep, sinking horror pulled at him. He’d thought Holliday a cad, but this was beyond— He wiped a hand across his forehead. And there he’d been, wittering on to Em about how her wastrel husband had run through her money and tried to ask him for more.
That had to be the last thing she cared about.
He suddenly saw the scene with Miss Raven in a different light. Her eyes had been knowing. Sharp. She understood the circumstances far better than he.
And there was a mystery on its own. What young society miss would have such information and be so cool and collected, so self-possessed?
“How old is Charlotte Raven,” he asked.
“What?” Dervish frowned. “I don’t know. Early twenties, I think. Not a schoolroom miss. She’s had at least three seasons, and came late to her first season as it was.”
But that still did not explain it. Even a young woman with a few seasons under her bonnet would not be so calm.
“I might hire someone to look into her.” Edward realized he’d spoken aloud, and he caught Dervish’s surprise.
“Why?”
“There is something off about her. Looking back on our meeting, she knew the true circumstances of Emma’s troubles. It was in her eyes.” She’d been pitying him, Edward realized. Pitying him, and dismissing him as not bright enough to have caught on. Despite himself, he let out a bark of laughter. He had a strong urge to show her just how bright he could be.
“Edward has sent a message to say he will be calling later today.” Emma set the card Lady Howe’s butler had handed her next to her breakfast plate and looked at her two hostesses.
Outside, through an open set of doors, the boys played with a ball on the fine lawns, their own breakfast long since eaten. The sound of their laughter and shouting soothed her. They were happy, for now, and safe. That had been all she had thought of when she’d left her home, and she had achieved it. Thanks to Charlotte Raven.
“I look forward to meeting Lord Durnham,” Lady Howe said, her smile genuine in her strong, beautiful face. “He doesn’t go about much in society, and I haven’t ever been introduced.”
Emma nodded, her chest clutched by the hard, sharp claws of guilt and sadness she always felt when conversation turned to her brother. “He hates Geoffrey so much, hates that I married him so strongly, that he does not go about in case he meets us. Which, of course, he most likely would.”
“He had no say in your marriage?” Charlotte Raven lifted a cup of coffee to her lips, and Emma was struck by how lovely she was. She seemed more beautiful in this setting, as if she deliberately made herself less attractive when she went out. Emma suddenly wondered if it could be true.
“My stepfather accepted Geoffrey’s suit. Edward was only twenty-two at the time. And I was under my majority. But it has always rankled with Edward. He and my stepfather disagreed over it so strongly. They openly hate one another now, and it’s one more thing I destroyed in my determination to marry Geoffrey.” She closed her eyes. “And of course, Edward was right. He was quite, quite right.”
There was silence at the table for a moment, and when Emma opened her eyes, she saw both women looking at her with sympathy.
“What can I say?” She shrugged, trying to keep her voice steady. “I loved him. With all my heart.”
“Then you were right to marry him.” Lady Howe’s words were soft. “Would you be better off if you had denied your love and married someone more suitable, and pined for him?”
Charlotte watched her as well. “And of course, there are the boys.”
Emma glanced out the windows to catch a glimpse of James tossing the ball to Ned. “And look what nearly happened to them, because of their mother’s poor choice in husbands.”
“No.” Charlotte leaned forward at the table, her eyes intense. “I learned long ago to refuse to take the blame for things I had nothing to do with. You gave your husband your love, and three beautiful boys, and if that was not enough for him, if he chose to despoil what he had, then the blame rests on him, not you. You took the action you needed to take to safeguard them, despite the risks to your reputation, and you have succeeded.”
“The thing …” Emma cleared her throat. “The thing that worries me, though, is that I would not have even known the danger they were in, I would not have been able to run away, were it not for you, Miss Raven.”
“Ah, but sometimes”—Charlotte Raven slid a tender look at Lady Howe—“sometimes, fate steps in and provides you with a guardian angel. I am happy to have been yours this time. Someday, no doubt, you will be someone else’s.” She stood, and Emma noticed for the first time she was in a riding habit. “I will be off now. I’m sure Kit is cursing my lateness.”
After she left the room, Emma continued to stare after her, but a movement by Lady Howe finally ripped her gaze back to her hostess.
“She is magnetic, isn’t she?” Lady Howe smiled the proud smile of a parent.
“She is the most interesting woman I have ever met.”
Lady Howe nodded. “And if you were to say that to her, she would look at you as if you had lost your reason. But I warn you, she has never followed a conventional path. Since she came to live with me at the age of twelve, she has continued to keep her friends from the streets. She refused to allow her good fortune to ruin her ties with the people who had helped her and kept her safe as a child, and I could not forbid it, because without them, she would never have been alive to come to me.”
“How does she manage that? Without a scandal?” Emma tried to think if she had ever heard any whispers about Charlotte Raven, but could not. Miss Raven kept to the corners at balls, never dancing, underplaying her looks. Trying to live safely in two worlds.
“For a start, a lot of her old friends work in my house, now, and at my country estate.” Lady Howe stirred sugar into her tea. “You would have thought it would cause trouble. Her the lady, they the servants, but it hasn’t. When she was younger, she felt it more keenly, but she never returned to the streets because she always knew she could be of more help to her friends as a lady than as a pauper.”
“That is not entirely true,” Emma said. “I saw the way she looks at you. She would not have wanted to leave you.”
Lady Howe hesitated, then nodded. “You are right. But there were times … I thought I would lose her. One of her old sweeper friends in particular has made his fortune. Those of their comrades from the early days Charlotte has not employed, Luke Bracken has taken in. And ever since he was able, he’s tried over and over to persuade her to leave me and go into his care.”
“But she has not.”
Lady Howe shook her head. “I’ve fought for her like a lioness fights for her cub. I’ve never met Luke Bracken, but we’ve battled a war against each other, he and I.”
“And you were the winner.” Emma leaned back and smiled.
“Who really wins a war?” Lady Howe shrugged. “I’ve kept Charlotte, but Luke Bracken continues to insinuate himself in her life. And I don’t think I will ever be rid of him.”
“And what is wrong with Luke Bracken?” Emma was beyond curious now.
Lady Howe gave a tired, tight smile. “Luke Bracken is a London crime boss.”
Emma gaped.
“At least I don’t fear for Charlotte’s safety when she’s out late at night.” Lady Howe rubbed delicately at her temple. “No rogue in the whole of the West End would dare lay a finger on her.”<
br />
5
“Do you take sugar in your tea, Lord Durnham?”
Catherine’s gentle tone had the effect of forcing Lord Durnham to quit scowling at the very tasteful Turkish carpet and behave with some semblance of civility.
Charlotte, so used to the practiced, slick manners of the ton, which meant nothing and usually hid venom and ill will, was delighted by him. Of course, this was precisely the type of man she would never meet at balls. He would attend them only if forced.
Perhaps this was her sign to stop going about in polite society.
“Charlotte?” Catherine was looking at her, eyebrows raised, a cup of tea in her hands.
“Sorry.” Charlotte smiled and took it. “Off elsewhere, I’m afraid.”
“Did you enjoy your ride?” Lady Holliday asked her, trying to keep the conversation alive. Her brother certainly didn’t feel compelled to do so.
“I did. We had a lovely run.” She took a sip of tea, relishing the almost unbearably hot tang as she swallowed. “What about you, Lord Durnham? Do you ride?”
He looked at her, at last. A look that seemed vaguely threatening, as if he intended to find out everything about her, and use it against her. Charlotte raised an eyebrow and gave him a serene smile.
He hunted for a place to set his cup, the fine china ridiculously fragile in his hands, and gave a sharp nod. “I do.”
“And you are involved in government?”
He started, and plunked the tea down too sharply on a small table. He turned that direct gaze on her again. “Why do you ask that?”
Charlotte shrugged, but she could see the fire in his eyes. She had touched something with her question, startled him. It intrigued her. “You do not go about in society, Lord Durnham, so I assumed you were involved in the government. In the war.”
“Perhaps I’m just an unsocial hermit.”
She laughed, and even to her own ears, it was breathless. Good grief! She’d better get a grip. She so seldom sparred with men who were not trying to flatter her, it was making her heady. She formed a rejoinder, then thought better of answering at all. She was not accomplished enough as a flirt, and she was usually too blunt.
He waited a moment or two for her reply, but when it was not forthcoming, he seemed to relax, as if he had dodged a bullet, and took up his teacup again.
Perhaps he was a spymaster. Or a diplomat. Charlotte could think of little else that would require such secrecy, unless she was mistaken in his reaction … She lifted her eyes to first Catherine and then Emma, and saw they were both regarding Lord Durnham with a good deal more interest than they had before.
“I must say, I never knew you worked for Whitehall,” Lady Holliday said. “You are very sharp to have worked that out, Miss Raven. It’s obviously a well-kept secret.”
“I didn’t say I worked for Whitehall.” Edward frowned at his sister.
Charlotte could not help leaning forward. “Oh yes, Lord Durnham, you did.”
“Stop baiting our guest, Charlotte. Lord Durnham obviously has no wish to talk about his duties for the Crown.” Catherine lifted a plate of beautiful little cakes and held it out to him.
He gave Catherine a look of hunted frustration, and Charlotte could see him considering arguing with her that he had no duties to talk about. He looked down at the plate, let it go, and took two cakes.
Edward walked beside his sister while her three boys danced and ran ahead of them across the lawns. He was glad to be out of the house, and out from the knowing, laughing gaze of Charlotte Raven. The woman was confounding and annoying.
His work for the Crown was secret. No one knew what he did—the projects he undertook for the prime minister or the foreign secretary—but for a very small, select group. It was the only way he could be effective.
But Charlotte Raven had somehow guessed it, or found out.
“You should come home with me.” He had thought to be firm about it, but surprised himself when he spoke softly.
Emma looked up at him. “I will. But not now. I’m enjoying the company I have, and they are far more sympathetic than you.” She shaded her eyes with a hand to watch the boys.
“I’m sorry I was such a curmudgeon last night. It was not well done of me.”
Emma shrugged. “You were right. But I did love him, and truly, for many years, he was a very good husband. Yes, he risked our money, but we were happy. It’s only in the last three years that things have become bad. And I would never have thought he was capable of what he arranged with Frethers. Never.”
“I didn’t quite understand what you meant, when you told me that. I’m sorry. If I had, I would not have been half as stupid as I was.”
Her mouth pulled into a reluctant smile. “I understand. I was hard-pressed to believe it, myself. If it weren’t for Miss Raven—” She stopped, closing her mouth in a definite snap.
“What has Miss Raven to do with it?” He hadn’t meant the intensity of his question to come through, but Emma stopped and turned to him, her head a little to one side.
“She was the one who warned me about Frethers. If she hadn’t, I’d never have confronted Geoffrey and discovered the truth.”
“And how did she know? That’s what puzzles me. How did a society miss like her know?”
His sister turned away, as if to watch his nephews at their game of catch, but he wasn’t fooled. She did not want to discuss this with him. Eventually she spoke. “Miss Raven’s secrets are her own. She revealed them at great personal risk to help me, and she has my steadfast loyalty for it.”
How had he never heard of Charlotte Raven before, but now, all he wanted was to know as much about her as possible? He was fascinated. And disturbed.
“I’ll warn you, Edward, as you once warned me.” Emma had turned to watch him, her face serious and knowing. “Charlotte Raven is not a woman whose life you can poke at without consequence. I know she has at least one powerful friend you would not like to cross.”
“What makes you think I’m the slightest bit interested in her?”
She laughed at him with genuine humor and walked away, shaking her head.
6
Charlotte saw, from the way Kit stood, that he wanted her attention. He was almost straining toward her, like a dog held back on a leash.
She sometimes wondered who held that leash. Her or Luke. Maybe it was both of them.
She crossed the yard and came over to him, but walked past, into the stables, leaning into her horse’s stall and rubbing her flank. “You have a message?”
“Luke wants you to come to him later.”
She turned her head. “When?”
Kit shrugged. “He just said later. Whenever you can, I ’spect.”
She nodded, tried to make sure none of the disquiet she felt showed. “I don’t have any engagements tonight. We can go after dinner.”
Kit ducked his head and Charlotte thought she had probably hidden her unease better than he.
Luke was … not the same as he had been. Since she’d ended his hopes of her returning, chosen to stay with Catherine, he’d become more and more difficult. More and more unpredictable. But even those early days, when he was still raw with disappointment, were nothing like now.
Whether it was the money, or the power, or the injury that afflicted him, it hurt to see him sucked slowly into a downward spiral.
She felt just like she had as a sweep, stuck in a chimney, with the slowly growing pain of a fire lit below her boots. Nowhere to go, trapped and helpless. Unless she went up, and then she’d lose skin.
Whichever the outcome, pain was assured.
But this was worse. She didn’t want to scramble away to safety, leave him behind. He deserved so much more. And he wouldn’t see—
“Who’s the nob, then?”
She stepped back from the door of the stall and frowned. “Lord Durnham, you mean?”
“Pro’bly. The one with the good horses.”
“Lady Holliday’s brother. He’s come to visit her.”
Was it her imagination, or did Kit relax at that. “Ah, well. Just wondered.”
“Kit, Luke hasn’t asked you to report to him on who comes to call on me, has he?” She didn’t need his answer; it was clear on his face as he ducked away, muttering about watering Durnham’s horses.
Oh, why did Luke do this to himself? Why did he torture himself with it?
And why did she?
Charlotte rubbed a gloved hand across her eyes. She’d never encouraged a single suitor. Not once.
She’d told herself they didn’t appeal. They were after Catherine’s money. Her dowry. All manner of excuses. But she faced the truth suddenly, with a fierce relief.
She did not encourage them because when she looked into their eyes, she couldn’t bear to think of them harmed or killed, even if they were just after her money.
And now that she was facing why she had shied away from the men of the ton like a marriage-shy rake, she also acknowledged to herself that Luke, the way he was now … Luke might just do it.
Might just kill them.
She dropped her hands to her side and skirted around Kit and Lord Durnham’s tiger, watering the horses and talking good-naturedly about the quality of his lordship’s horseflesh.
She’d thought to ask Luke to help her bring down Frethers, but had hesitated to do it. Now she understood her reluctance.
Frethers and his ilk required a fine hand, not a blunt instrument. And much though she lamented it, that is what Luke had become.
Edward wondered what he was doing.
He was standing in the narrow access lane that ran between the houses opposite Lady Howe’s address, watching her house.
The lights were on downstairs, and Edward was not surprised they weren’t out tonight. There was very little on in London at the moment.
The heat pressed down on him even now, and the sun had only just set half an hour before, even though it was after nine.
He had only meant to go for a short walk after dinner. But his feet had led him here, and he wondered whether he should go up to the door and knock, or do the sensible thing and head back home to his study and the troubles that lay on his desk, waiting for him to solve.
The Emperor's Conspiracy Page 3
