by Brenda Hiatt
The very thought brought becoming color to her cheeks. She smiled a secret smile at herself in the looking glass, then turned to allow Matthilda to help her into the gown.
Once married, surely she would be able to persuade Noel more to her way of thinking, she reasoned. He was always willing to listen to her arguments, to give her credit when she was right, though he might dispute her conclusions. Given unlimited time to explain her views, she was sure to bring him around in some areas.
Perhaps this was mere rationalization, making her natural inclination easier to accept, but she didn't care. After a miserable night, she was determined to be happy on this auspiciously sunny day.
"Thank you, Matthilda," she said as the maid put the finishing touches to her hair. Head high, she sailed out of her room and down the stairs, ready to face Pearl's lectures, confident that she could also expect Noel's addresses.
As she had expected, Pearl awaited her in the dining room. Noel was absent, perhaps by Pearl's request. "Rowena, I believe we need to talk," came the anticipated preamble.
"Yes, I suppose we do," Rowena agreed, smiling at her friend's evident surprise at her own cheerfulness. "I'll just get some breakfast and coffee first." She then proceeded to do just that, filling a plate from the sideboard while a footman poured her a steaming cup. "Now," she said, sitting to face Pearl expectantly.
"I'm not certain you are aware of the gravity of your situation," Pearl began once the footman had gone. "It is extremely fortunate that only I saw you and Mr. Paxton last night, in what looked suspiciously like a tryst."
Rowena considered. "Not a tryst, no. He merely escorted me to the stairs, as I was ready to go up to bed. I can't deny that we kissed, however. He is quite good at it." As well as other things, she added to herself.
"Rowena!" Pearl's eyes were wide with shock, though the corners of her lips twitched. "I must say, I never expected— That is, you seem to be treating this very lightly. And just how would you know how Mr. Paxton's kisses compare to any other man's?"
"Well, I don't, actually," Rowena confessed, though for the fun of scandalizing Pearl she was tempted to claim otherwise. "Oh, Pearl, you know I have never been missish. If I enjoy Noel's kisses and he enjoys mine, why should we not please ourselves?"
"So it is Noel now, is it? I suppose that is as well, considering. But I thought you were always opposed to the idea of marriage, likening it to slavery for a woman. Following this course with a man like Mr. Paxton is likely to end in a wedding You must know that."
Rowena nodded, but slowly. Having Pearl put it into words like that was sobering, despite her earlier resolve. "I have thought of that, yes. But Noel respects my intelligence as no other man ever has. If I am to marry at all, I doubt I could do better."
"But—" Pearl waved a helpless hand.
Rowena looked her friend in the eye, all amusement gone. "Besides," she said simply, "I love him."
Pearl sighed. "I feared it might be so. I have watched how your eyes follow him— and how he watches you, as well."
"Why 'feared?'" Rowena asked in surprise. "I thought you would be pleased."
Her friend looked at her with a sympathy that set off warnings in Rowena's head. "Where is Noel?" she asked, feeling a sudden dark premonition despite the bright sunshine.
"He is gone," Pearl said. "I don't know where. He left very early this morning."
Rowena half-rose from her chair. "You sent him away, because of what you saw last night? But I told you—"
But Pearl was shaking her head. "No, I did not send him away, nor did Luke. It was his own decision to leave."
"He has gone back to his lodgings, then?" It is what he had done before, when he could not trust himself to be near her. A prudent course, perhaps, but frustrating. "Surely, though, he will call later?"
Pearl shook her head, however. "I fear not. Luke tells me he is gone into the country, and may not return for some days."
Swallowing painfully around the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, Rowena stared at her friend. "But why?" she whispered. "Where has he gone?"
"I . . . I do not know. Luke seemed disinclined to discuss it, so I did not press for details."
Rowena's earlier euphoria turned to ashes and dread. He had implied that he was very close to catching the Saint. Might his absence be connected to that? But . . . the Saint operated here in London. Was Noel so eager to avoid her that he had abandoned his quest and returned to his estate— perhaps never to return?
"A few days, did you say?" she asked, grasping at straws.
"Luke did not actually say how long he would be gone," Pearl confessed, "just that he had business to attend to in the country. Perhaps he will return tomorrow."
Rowena averted her gaze from her friend's pitying expression, which told her far more than her words did. Had she read more into Noel's words and actions than he had intended? But he had told her he cared for her, and she believed him to be honest, even if she frequently disagreed with him.
"I suppose I will simply have to wait until he returns, then," she said with an effort, pinning a smile back to her lips. Though her appetite had fled, she forced herself to take a bite of smoked ham.
"Of course." Pearl spoke bracingly, which was nearly as hard to take as her pity. "That's the spirit. Now eat up, do, before our morning callers arrive. You have more admirers than Mr. Paxton, after all."
But none who made her heart race and her insides turn to jelly, thought Rowena despondently. If Noel did not return, she saw little point to remaining in London. She thought of her causes, of the plight of the common man, of the heroic charity of the Saint of Seven Dials, but even those could not fire her now.
It was as though Noel had taken the fire that fueled her passions with him.
* * *
"Then it's settled," Luke was saying to a sullen Mr. Twitchell. "You can make a fresh start in New York— unless you would prefer Botany Bay, in Australia?"
The burly thief-master glared at him. "Nay, New York'll do. Haven't you growed all high-and-mighty, now you're a lord and all? I recollect when you wasn't no better'n Skeet, here. Quite the pickpocket you were, once upon a time."
Luke smiled. "I like to think any of these boys has the ability to rise above his circumstances, just as I have done. With you gone, they'll have a better chance to do so."
Twitchell snorted his disbelief. "Half these lads would be dead by now without me. Gave 'em a trade, didn't I?"
"Thieving is scarcely a trade. In any event, now they'll have a choice."
Noel watched the exchange from the shadows of a nearby alley, his pistol at the ready. He and Lord Marcus were to show themselves only if the situation grew dangerous —which it now appeared it would not. Luke had been adamant that Twitchell have no opportunity to link either of them to the Saint of Seven Dials.
In a few moments the business was concluded and Twitchell on his way to the docks, shadowed by the Runner Noel had engaged earlier that day. He and Marcus retreated to the prearranged meeting spot, two streets away.
"That went more smoothly than I expected it to," Luke said when he joined them. "I suspect Twitchell has more laid by than he's admitting to, and expects to set himself up nicely on the other side of the Atlantic."
"Where he'll be the Americans' problem and not ours," said Marcus with a grin. "I'd say this calls for a small celebration."
"It does," Noel agreed, "but I fear you'll have to count me out. I need to attend to that other matter I mentioned." He saw no point in explaining his change of plans, as he would be heading to the country soon enough, if his quarry didn't show this afternoon.
Noel left them then, stopping at the coaching inn to inform Kemp of the delay in their departure, but cautioning him to be ready to leave at a moment's notice, should it be necessary. He would go to Green Park alone, the better to stay concealed while he watched for the mysterious Mr. R.
With Richards safely in custody, Noel would be free to court Rowena properly. The thought of reti
ring to Tidebourne with her as his bride had him smiling again as he headed for Green Park, despite the dark clouds gathering on the western horizon.
* * *
Rowena had managed to cling to her smile through nearly two hours of callers, and even to enter into their conversations of gossip and flirtation, but it was most wearisome. All she really wanted to do right now was escape to her chamber until it was time to slip across the street to Green Park and her letters.
Those, she reasoned, should do nicely to help her pass the time until Noel returned.
For he would return. Even when they had been so at odds that they were scarcely speaking, knowing that he was hearing the same silly conversations and sharing her opinion of them had helped her to endure the shallow prattle of people like Fanny Mountheath. Now, however . . .
"Yes, if Lord Edgemont is wealthier than Lord Harrowby, that might make him seem a better catch, to some," she said, stifling a yawn. Miss Mountheath had been comparing the relative fortunes of every bachelor in England, it seemed, for the past twenty minutes. "Surely other factors should be considered, however."
"Oh, of course," her tormentor agreed. "I would never want to marry a man who was truly ill-favored, or older than Papa. I am only discussing eligible gentlemen. Don't you agree, Lucy?" She and her sister tittered together, while Rowena racked her brain for some plausible excuse to leave the parlor.
To her relief, the butler chose that moment to announce Mr. Richards. Finally, a chance for some rational conversation! So eager was she to escape the Mountheath sisters' chatter that she greeted him more effusively than she might otherwise have done.
"How delightful to see you again so soon, Mr. Richards," she exclaimed.
He moved at once to sit by her, after only the briefest acknowledgment of the other ladies present. "I am happy to hear you say so," he said. "Especially as I was able to spend so little time in your presence last night."
"Yes, Mama was saying earlier how amazed she was that you have become so popular so quickly, Miss Riverstone," Lucy Mountheath volunteered. "But of course, being Lady Hardwyck's friend and protegée must have its benefits."
Rowena did not allow the young lady's spiteful comment to sting. She knew by now that neither of the Mountheath sisters —nor their mother —ever had a kind word for anyone unless it served their own interests, and seldom even then.
"Pearl has been very kind to me," she replied blandly. Miss Mountheath only sniffed and turned to her sister, freeing Rowena to speak privately with Mr. Richards. "I do apologize for leaving the ball so early last night. I was quite tired by suppertime, however."
"Quite understandable," he said with a most flattering smile. "All of your admirers kept you dancing constantly, to my loss."
She recalled what he had said about dancing last night, but had no wish to argue with him now. "It is more exercise than I have been accustomed to, certainly. And enjoyable as it can be, I confess I prefer chess and conversation to galloping about a ballroom."
For the barest instant a frown crossed his brow— perhaps at her mention of chess, which she instantly regretted. Now, however, he smiled again. "That goes to prove your intelligence —as do the opinions you have shared with me on certain matters. Mr. Spence's proposals, for example."
Rowena's interest quickened and she was pleased to discover that she did still care about such issues after all. "I believe that some of his ideas might be quite workable," she said earnestly. "Certainly, I agree that land should benefit those who work it."
Mr. Richards leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. "Would you care to learn what some of his adherants hope to do, to help bring such a change about?"
Her eyes widened. "Certainly. I had feared Mr. Spence's plans might have died with him, kept alive only in writings. Do you mean that there are yet people actively working toward his ideals?"
"Not so loud," he said, even more softly. "There are those in government who believe anything which might threaten the current system of power to be seditious. But yes, a group of forward-thinking men carry on Spence's dream of a utopia where men are no longer sacrificed as beasts."
The Mountheath sisters rose to take their leave just then, requiring Rowena's response to their farewells. Pearl then asked her a question pertaining to her own conversation with Lady Norville on the changes on the Continent since the Congress of Vienna. As Rowena had read extensively on the issue, she spent some time discussing it with them. By the time she was able to turn her attention back to Mr. Richards, he was rising to leave.
"I have exceeded my quarter hour," he said, taking her hand, "and don't wish to outstay my welcome. Before I go, however, I have a favor to ask."
Rowena looked up at him in surprise, to find him watching her intently, his expression serious. It occurred to her that she had never heard Mr. Richards laugh. "A favor, sir?"
He bent over her hand, bringing his lips close to her ear. "Come driving with me tomorrow and I will tell you about those forward-thinking men I mentioned. I believe you will learn much to interest you."
She blinked. Though she was undeniably curious, something about his manner bothered her. "I'll have to ask Lady Hardwyck—" she began, glancing over at Pearl, who was still talking with Lady Norville.
"I thought you were your own person, needing no one's permission for you actions?" he reminded her softly.
"Of . . . of course." She had been looking for ways to fill her thoughts and time until Noel returned, had she not? A drive, and learning more about the Spenceans, should fill that role admirably. "What time?"
He smiled, but it was a humorlous smile, she thought with a tiny shiver. "I will call for you by five o'clock, the fashionable hour for a drive in the Park."
Though an uneasy instinct warned her that she might be agreeing to more than a simple drive, she nodded. "As long as I can be back here by six, that should be fine."
"Of course," he said smoothly. "We can return whenever you wish. Until tomorrow, then." Releasing her hand, he turned to make his farewells to Pearl, and then left the parlor.
Rowena frowned after him, but then shrugged. How much trouble could she possibly get into in an hour? It would give her excellent material for future essays —and for future arguments with Noel. This would be one topic on which he could scarcely claim to be more expert than she was!
When the last callers left a few minutes later, Rowena headed upstairs. She would change into one of her nondescript gowns and conceal her hair before making her foray to Green Park, to reduce the risk that she might be recognized.
Who would have guessed that life would suddenly become so interesting? she wondered with a spurt of amusement. She, who had led such a completely dull life for twenty-one years. It appeared she was now making up for it with a vengeance, with the possibility of two adventures in two days.
She rather doubted, however, that either adventure would be half so exciting as the one in Noel's arms. She only hoped that he would return soon, so that she could experience his kisses and caresses again.
* * *
Noel shifted his weight from his right leg to his left, trying to keep his limbs from going numb after standing motionless for so long. Though he was fairly well concealed behind a pair of birch trees, any movement might serve to warn his quarry —not that he'd seen any sign of him yet.
Green Park had been fairly active earlier, with young families and a few couples strolling the paths, enjoying the balmy sunshine. Now that clouds had rolled in and a fresh breeze had sprung up, however, the park was nearly deserted. With a careful glance around, Noel pulled out his pocket watch. He'd been here almost two hours.
And he would wait past midnight and into tomorrow, if necessary, to finally catch the elusive traitor.
He could see the oilskin packet from here, nestled at the base of the black and gray mottled rock. Might he have been spotted? Could one of the apparently innocent pedestrians actually have been a confederate of the Black Bishop —or even the Bishop himself, if Noel were
mistaken about Richards?
A few large drops of rain rattled the leaves around him, and he shifted his weight again. All he could do was wait.
The last few stragglers now hurried toward the park gates, clearly anxious to get indoors before the rain began in earnest. A low roll of thunder sounded in the distance. Noel cursed silently and turned up the collar of his coat, then stilled abruptly as a cloaked and hooded figure entered the gates, in defiance of the threatening weather.
Noel narrowed his eyes as the figure approached. Too short and slight to be Richards. Had the man hired a boy off the streets for this errand? All too likely. If so, Noel would have to somehow induce the lad to lead him to whoever had paid him—a gold sovereign should do it.
Now the figure slowed, glancing about as he approached the rock. Yes, he was clearly here for the letters, whoever he was. The hood was pulled close about the face against the intensifying storm —and against detection —but Noel caught a quick glimpse of a small hand and an almost girlish nose. Definitely not a grown man, he thought, not even a short one.
Could it possibly be a woman? That would be awkward, but it would not dissuade him from his goal. Not when he was so close.
Whoever it was had now reached the rock. Stooping, he—or she— groped about the base, found the packet of letters, and tucked it inside the cloak. It was time for Noel to make his move.
He waited just long enough for the person —he was almost sure it was female now —to turn back toward the gates, then followed, quickly but quietly, the now-heavy rain masking his footfalls. Even before his quarry had reached the path, he closed the gap between them.
Noel realized now that he was a full head taller than his opponent. Subduing her— him?— should be no problem. When he grasped a cloaked shoulder, the figure gasped, flinched violently, then spun to face him.
His heart seemed to stop as he found himself staring down into Rowena Riverstone's terrified face.
