by Heather Boyd
Apparently disturbed by Lord Maitland’s abrupt departure down the stairs, her mother stirred. “Millard?” she called.
“Oh, Mama.” Theodora hurried to her mother.
Her mother sucked in a sharp breath as Theodora sat at her side and took her hand. She stared at their joined hands, bare of rings and still grubby from the ash and soot of the blaze under their nails, and fought not to cry again.
“Oh, no,” Mama whispered. Her mother raised her face, showing that tears filled her eyes and her lower lip trembled. “For a moment, I had forgotten he was gone.”
Theodora hugged her mother tightly and kissed her hair as she wept anew for many long minutes. When her crying abated, Theodora released her. “Papa would want us to be strong. To that end, I must tell you, I have made arrangements to save us from utter desperation.”
Her mother stared at her in confusion. “What arrangements?”
“Lord Maitland is desperately in need of a secretary, and has hired me. You will not believe the mess I stumbled upon in his private office while you were sleeping. It could take weeks to sort through, but I will straighten him out in the end, and we will find out who killed Father with his help.”
“I cannot believe Lord Maitland agreed to that,” her mother whispered. “He has been kind enough already. He barely knows us for all that we have been neighbors for two years.”
“It did take some bold negotiation on my part, but it is done, I assure you. We have a roof over our heads and Lord Maitland’s protection for the foreseeable future.” Theodora glanced around to check that they were alone. “But he does not yet realize he will help us clear Father’s name. Those lies Mr. Small told must be repudiated. The slander will surely spread until Father’s memory is besmirched beyond all repair. We must have his help to prevent that from happening.”
Mother bowed her head. “We both know it couldn’t be true.”
“That is not good enough for me,” Theodora fumed. “I want everyone to understand that Mr. Small lied through his teeth about Papa.”
Mother’s breath caught. “Do you plan to deceive the viscount and investigate under his name?”
Theodora nodded, a little pained that her mother had correctly guessed her intentions so soon. In business, one sometimes had to get one’s hands dirty to achieve the results one wanted. “If Maitland asks directly, I will tell him anything he wishes to know about my inquiries. I will not keep secrets.” She wiped the tears from her mother’s cheeks. “Do not worry, Mama.”
“How can I not worry when you will not be honest with him, just as you weren’t with Daniel?” Her mother captured her face. “Your father only asked you to be nice to Daniel, and you ended up engaged to marry him. What else have you bargained away to the viscount?”
“Nothing at all.” She winced though, feeling a fool again. Her greatest bargaining chip was useless when a man had a mistress. He would be immune to flirtation, and his desires would be satisfied by another beyond her control. “My services in exchange for a roof over our heads, payment made month to month, and in advance. Generous terms. Maitland is rich enough that he can afford the expense of two extra women in his household with barely a ripple.”
Yet, it still smarted that her seduction had been so thoroughly rebuffed.
The mistress had been an unknown factor in her assessment of Lord Maitland, but what was done was done. She would make do with a position and go from there. She just had to survive burying her father and do her job well enough to be kept on.
Timing was everything. Theodora had long since learned that in business, emotions only slowed one down and prevented clarity of thought. But not everyone thought as she did. After years of practice, Theodora could easily suppress her emotions behind the busy activity of work.
She longed for such a distraction now. The well of sadness inside her was vast, and she shrank from the pain of losing another loved one.
She had cried copious tears for Daniel, and now would cry in the privacy of her bedchamber each night for years to come over losing Papa, too. In between, she had to be strong for her mother and wipe clean her father’s tarnished reputation.
She would win over the viscount to her cause soon enough. Her first step would be to prove herself invaluable in managing his business affairs and earn his trust—and along the way, she would satisfy her curiosity about this jealous mistress of Lord Maitland’s.
With those goals ahead, she convinced her mother to retire and rest in the hastily prepared bedchambers upstairs.
Chapter 6
Quinn moved out of the shadows and clapped. “Marvelous.”
On the stage, the performers turned to stare into the pit of the dimly lit Theatre Royal as the echoes of his applause died down slowly.
“Maitland! You beast,” Adele Blakely cried out once she recognized him in the shadows, hand clenched to her chest with all the dramatic flair of a superior performer in front of a captive audience. She rushed from the stage to meet him, golden blonde hair loose and billowing behind her as she threw herself into his arms.
“Why didn’t you speak up sooner?” she chided, after they’d greeted each other with a passionate kiss.
He and Adele had been friends, and lovers, for years. They had an easy relationship, one that had survived his long absences at sea, when he’d not been able to see her as often as they both wished he could. For all the days and months apart, however, he’d never felt closer to another living soul.
“Forgive me, my dear.” He kissed her again, and then caught her earlobe lightly with his teeth before whispering, “You know I like to watch you perform unobserved. It gives me a thrill to see you in your natural milieu.”
“And I prefer to know where you are at all times when you are watching me.” She’d complained of his sneaky habits before, but her smile grew as she leaned into him. “I’d rather have you seeing me work my magic on the crowd from the distinction of being in Rutherford’s box.”
He caressed her soft cheek, causing her delicate skin to flush with heat and her eyes to grow round with desire. Adele was a stunning woman. A virtuoso on the boards, as well as on her back in the home he provided for her on Wellington Street. “I’d prefer the melee of the pit over the indignity of public scrutiny watching me watching you. Imagine if my father arrived.” He affected a shudder. “I’d never enjoy another moment with him hovering and scowling.”
She pouted. “But the view from Rutherford’s box is so much better than the rest of the seats of the theater. It can seem as if we are the only two people in the room.”
He sighed. They’d argued this point far too often for him to yield now. “I wish I could oblige you in this, but my mind is set on the matter. I will never sit in Rutherford’s box when there is a chance my father might join me,” he promised. “You know what his presence does to my temper.”
Thankfully, Adele pressed her lips together and said no more to try to persuade him. She had never really understood how much he detested his father’s company. Unfortunately, Father had become an irregular patron of the theater this past year, invading Quinn’s favorite haunt so often, he’d largely given up regular attendance. If not for Adele, he’d have stopped coming altogether.
Adele looked up at him under a flutter of eyelashes with the steady regard of a wife in training. He’d won this round, for now, but the next discussion was coming. He could see her mind had turned to other matters. “I waited for you after my performance last night. How was the dinner?”
“Dull.” He took her hand in his. “I had intended to come as promised but there was a complication.”
“What happened?” Her face grew tense. “Were you that overcome with passion for the society debutant you met at dinner? They say Miss Cushing is lovely and her dowry rivals that of your sister’s.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not interested in debutants.” He laughed heartily, but then sobered to pull her close. “Where do you get these silly ideas that money is all that interests me a
bout a woman? I went home, intending a brief conversation with Deacon, but there was a fire. A neighboring property burned to the ground. I had to stay and help. Everything was in chaos, and two men died last night.”
Adele’s eyes rounded. “Oh, how dreadful. Were you close to these neighbors? Are you hurt?”
He brushed her long hair over her shoulder, heart swelling with love at her concern for him. “It was dreadful, but no, I wasn’t so foolhardy as to put myself at risk,” he assured her. “I barely knew them, in truth.”
But he’d had a hard time all day, forgetting that a man had burned to death not far from his home, and that his daughter and wife were utterly overset by the experience. He could scarce imagine the desperation behind Miss Dalton attempting to seduce him just to prove they were worthy of his charity.
He was not like his father to believe such an offer sincere, but if Miss Dalton needed a distraction, she could make the futile attempt to straighten out his study for a few days. It would ensure she made no further inappropriate advances to anyone else in her fragile state of mind, and he would settle them in a good situation elsewhere soon. That was the only reason he’d agreed to employ her. The next time Miss Dalton propositioned a man, she might not be so lucky, and some lecherous scoundrel might take her up on her offer she’d eventually come to regret.
Adele, however, would not find his decision to take in the widow and daughter at all pleasing. He’d have to mention the Daltons were in his home, and hope Adele didn’t become unreasonable. If she heard Theodora was pretty, and unmarried, she’d fly into a rage. He’d not lied that Adele was the jealous sort. She’d declared nothing would ever come between them on many occasions. “One of the men who died in the fire left a widow and daughter behind. The other man, we fear, was taken by anatomists.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, eyes filling with tears. “I’m sure you did all you could.”
“The daughter would have run into the blaze after her father, if I had not prevented her.” He’d certainly tried to help, but his help had been paltry at best and almost too late. “I offered the pair shelter until they recover what few possessions might have survived the blaze.”
Adele pursed her lips and stared at him sourly. “You are too tenderhearted, always looking after everyone but yourself.”
He laughed and held her against him a little more firmly. Quinn loved that Adele worried about him. They had a future together that nothing could change. “I took you on and have no regrets. Was that not the right decision, my love?”
Adele blushed prettily and patted his chest. “I would have been lost without you. You gave me the world.”
They had met when she’d nothing but her extraordinary talent to her name. He’d admired her eagerness in everything, and had opened doors so she might have her dream of performing on the stage. After the doors had been opened, and society had acknowledged her talent, her rise to prominence had been assured. Helping Adele was the best thing he’d ever done for another living soul. He had no regrets at all about his small part in her success.
“I only gave you a chance to impress those who mattered, and you did the rest.” He lowered his face to hers. “I’m looking forward to introducing you to my new friends as we planned, too.”
He was introducing her to Amy, his secret half-sister, and her new husband, Harper Cabot, the surprisingly amusing shopkeeper. He’d been planning this introduction since Christmas, but a great many distractions kept getting in the way.
“I wish things could be different, but I’m afraid I cannot make your dinner.” Her gaze rose to his, and she quickly kissed his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I must stay late for rehearsals for all of this week, unless I want Mr. Arnold to scream like a fishwife. I must also be fitted for the costumes he insisted upon having made afresh. I have no idea when I will sleep, or when I will have a moment for amusement again. Mr. Arnold is planning one of his exclusive parties for after the first performance, too. He’s already anticipating the play will be a wild success.”
“But we made these plans weeks ago,” Quinn reminded her. It was not possible to send his regrets at this late stage, and he didn’t want to disappoint Amy and Harper yet again.
“I know, and I have apologized.” Adele looked up at him, her expression firm. “You know how important the theater is to me. I want to make you proud.”
“I am already proud.” He understood her dedication to her craft but damned if he liked that he came second to the theater in almost every situation.
“Please understand.” She toyed with his waistcoat pocket watch, glancing at the time. “I must go. If I disappoint Mr. Arnold, he’ll make me understudy in the next production instead of lead.”
“We cannot have that.” He glanced toward the stage, noting Samuel Arnold’s fierce glare had already turned in their direction. The man was strict and always made good on his threats to demote those who displeased him. “I’ll send him a brace of goose for his feast as an apology for today’s interruption. Send a note round when you are free again.”
She rushed away to return to the stage without kissing him goodbye, leaving sourness in the pit of his stomach.
Quinn lingered a little while, watching with keen interest but confusion, too. Adele knew her lines well, and spoke them with authority and passion as she strutted the boards. Samuel Arnold would be a fool to drop her when the woman brought the crowds to the theater in droves. Quinn could not understand why Adele couldn’t believe she was irreplaceable to both the production and to him.
He nodded to the manager before he strolled out, at a loss for amusement for the afternoon. He’d hoped to spend the evening with Adele, but if she was too busy, he’d best find other interests to occupy himself. Perhaps a trip to his club would fill the empty hours.
He was about to hail a hack for White’s when his name was called out. “Lord Maitland?”
He glanced around, noted the livery worn by the Duke of Rutherford’s grooms and a familiar face. He groaned aloud. “Yes, Harrow.”
“Your presence is requested.” The man gestured toward his grandfather’s gleaming black town carriage that had stopped a little down from the theater’s main entrance. “Immediately, my lord.”
He rolled his eyes but hurried across the street. Would Rutherford ever slow down? The old man did more than most gentlemen half his age. Quinn could barely keep up with him. However, it did not go over well to leave his grandfather waiting, even when he was not expected to be in London at this time of year.
He murmured his thanks as a groom held the door open for him and entered the plush leather and blue-velvet interior. “I didn’t know you were in London.”
“Where else would I be,” Quinn’s father answered in a biting tone that had terrified him as a boy as the carriage moved off.
Quinn was utterly taken aback by his father’s presence, and the absence of the friendly face of the Duke of Rutherford in the carriage. “My apologies, Templeton. I didn’t know you had claimed Grandfather’s carriages for your personal use now.”
His grandfather had been very clear that he preferred they did not use his carriages and such without good reason.
“Did you call on Mr. Cushing’s daughter as I asked?” Templeton sneered. “No, of course, you did not. You disobeyed me.”
Quinn knew better than to rush in to defend himself. That was the surest way to escalate an argument. He took a moment to straighten his coat before answering. “There was no reason to raise her expectations.”
His father whacked him with a riding crop across his upper arm, something he had done all of Quinn’s life. Quinn barely flinched from the sting.
“Of course there was a need,” Templeton said, eyes growing hard. “Mr. Cushing expected you to call and grace his drawing room. You deliberately made me look a fool with your rudeness.”
Quinn sat back as if the punishment had not occurred. “I’m no longer in the service, nor must I carry out your orders. I have more important things to attend to than b
eating your drum.”
“Like calling on your flighty little tart,” his father bit out, glaring at him with all the gentleness of a caged lion.
Father took too much notice of his relationship with Adele for Quinn’s comfort. He chose to ignore the dig rather than defend her character yet again. “I have been renewing acquaintances, catching up with old friends I’ve missed over the years I was away from London.”
“Those men are bachelors, and are chasing after the same women you should be considering for your bride,” Templeton said with a definite sneer.
“Some are indeed wavering bachelors with much to say about the latest crop of debutants. We compare notes on our first impressions over coffee each day, and toss a coin as to who should have whom when the time comes,” he confessed. The talk over coffee was often vastly amusing—especially hearing the lengths some women went to snare a husband.
His father’s expression changed to anger, and the riding crop struck him again across the thigh. Hard. “Watch your tone, boy.”
Had there been much of a tone to his words? He must be slipping. However truthful he’d just been in his discussions on the debutants, Quinn had learned to adopt a neutral manner to avoid unpleasantness. Lately, he’d found it hard to even pretend at niceties when they were alone. Templeton rarely needed an excuse for his violence anyway.
“Dinner tomorrow night,” his father informed him.
That hadn’t been an invitation. It was a demand Quinn couldn’t immediately accept, for good reason. “Who will be there?”
“People who matter, so you will be on your best behavior. It is high time you started speaking to the right people instead of gallivanting around Town with those useless scoundrels you call friends.”
“They do have titles. Crawley is a duke and Deacon is an earl.”
“Deacon is an empty-headed fool, too stupid to see he embarrasses Crawley by always being in his shadow, and now in yours. You offer poor candidates as part of your inner circle. You need friends who are better connected than them, and cleverer. Powerful men who can support you in the battles to come.”
