Hope shrugged. “It’s not as if no one has ever tried to perpetrate a scam on the market before, but this…this is so elaborate and sophisticated. Surely, the Stock Exchange will launch some sort of investigation.”
“One would think so,” Michael replied as their carriage rolled to a stop.
Hope glanced out the window. “Lady Lancaster’s?” she asked Michael, with a perplexed look on her face.
“Yes, well,” Michael began matter-of-factly, “I couldn’t very well take you to my place and I gathered you wouldn’t want to return to your home in your current state of dress, so this seemed the only logical choice.”
“No, you are correct. Coming to Lady Lancaster’s was a very good idea,” Hope acknowledged. “Besides, she may have some good insight as to the happenings today.”
Michael had had the same thought but was immensely surprised that Hope had said as much. He had planned to discuss the scheme with the dowager while Hope was getting changed—the grand lady would almost certainly have clothing aplenty from which she could borrow—knowing that her observations would be invaluable. But how could Hope know that Lady Lancaster would be helpful in a case of deception within the stock exchange? It’s not as if any other society dame would be especially helpful under normal circumstances. It was almost as if Hope knew about the duchess’s past life as a spy. But surely that couldn’t be, right?
Michael was still pondering the conundrum as he helped Hope from the carriage and together they walked to the door of Lady Lancaster’s impressive home.
Upon admittance, the butler, Jacobs, took Michael’s card and asked them to remain in the main hall. As the two waited, Michael found himself getting more and more anxious. Since leaving the carriage, he hadn’t said more than two words to Hope. He hoped, beyond all hope, that now that they were back in the real world (it felt as if the time alone in the carriage had been a strange anomaly) they would not be going back to their previously stilted form of conversation.
Michael looked over at Hope when he heard what sounded like a gasp of delight, intending to say something innately charming, without a single stutter, for once.
The words froze on his lips when he saw her face.
Hope was gazing at the ceiling with the most rapturous expression. Looking up at the large chandelier hanging in the hall, Michael saw that the bright sunlight hitting the dozens of hanging crystals had created hundreds—no, thousands—of tiny rainbows that were flitting and floating along the ceiling and upper walls.
Judging by the look on Hope’s face, it was the most magical thing she had ever seen. Her eyes were wide and luminous and she was smiling: a childlike smile of innocence and joy that caused Michael’s heart to skip a beat. One hand was absently reaching up for something, but for the life of him, Michael could not tear his gaze from Hope, for even one second, to glance at whatever had her so entranced.
Somehow she must have felt his eyes upon her, because Hope turned to Michael and said, “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Michael nodded, never once removing his eyes from her face. He reached a hand up to touch her cheek.
“Mi—?” Hope began softly before being interrupted by the reappearance of Jacobs, asking them to follow him.
The minute Michael heard the butler’s voice, he dropped his hand as if it had been scalded. What was the matter with him? He was acting like some green-boy experiencing infatuation for the first time, rather than the experienced man he was. Certainly he was no rake, but he was also no stranger to the opposite sex. Yes, he was in between mistresses at the moment, but that hardly signified.
Of course, now that he thought about it, he realized that he had been “in between” mistresses since about the time he had been introduced to Hope…
Michael shook his head. Now was not the time to be exploring that particular revelation. He would be no good to a wife right now. He was still getting his sea legs, so to speak. Just home from the war, a new role to learn, and frankly, he had no idea how to be a husband. He honestly hadn’t considered marriage in his life. As a career soldier, he thought matrimony would be unfair to any woman. While he had found his thoughts straying to an heir more than once in the last few months, he hadn’t gone much further in the logistics of how to get one as of yet. And he didn’t plan to start today.
Turning sharply on his heel, Michael walked briskly behind the butler with nary a look back to see if Hope had fallen into step as well.
…
Hope hadn’t, in fact, followed but was still standing where he left her, staring at his retreating form. What on earth had just happened? Michael had gone from reaching for her with such a look of wonder on his face to pulling away from her as if he had been burned.
Never before had she been so confused.
With a concerted effort, Hope put one foot in front of the other and followed in the wake of the men. Nothing was going the way she had expected that day and she was left feeling very out of sorts.
Perhaps today was the day to retire her facade and go back to being plain old Hope Stuckeley. The proper, acceptable, utterly boring girl she had always been.
Perhaps she was not cut out for all this intrigue after all.
Chapter Five
Once you have their respect, try to never lose it; for once lost, it is near impossible to gain again.
~The Duke of Lancaster
“Michael, what an unexpected surprise,” Lady Lancaster said upon his entrance to her sitting room. It was late in the afternoon, which meant the dowager duchess was seated in her Blue Salon, as was her habit once the sun began its descent.
Mornings in the Rose Room and afternoons in the Blue Salon.
Lady Lancaster found that when one’s life was full of mystery and intrigue, it was often important to establish stability where one could and, honestly, the Rose Room was so glorious in the mornings and the Blue Salon so snug in the waning light of day.
Extending her hand for a kiss on the knuckles from Michael, Lady Lancaster watched with surprise as a costumed Hope followed him into the room. Jacobs clearly had not recognized the girl or surely he would have included her in his announcement. The duchess watched with curiosity as Michael stood stiffly aside for Hope to offer her greetings and sit down. He then followed suit without a comment, except for a groan of ecstasy as he seemed to almost burrow into the couch’s comfort.
“What’s the matter with him?” Lady Lancaster wondered aloud to Hope.
“Oh nothing,” Hope replied offhandedly. “He’s a bit tired, that is all.”
Michael opened his eyes to look at Hope and her apparently massive understatement. Then, clearly deciding that elaborating on just how tired he really was (and he appeared exhausted, the duchess could admit) would take too much effort, he closed his eyes again. Hope seemingly ignored the glance and became rather intrigued by the porcelain figurine on the table next to her.
Lady Lancaster was rather dumbfounded by the entire exchange—a unique condition for her to be in, to be sure. The fact that they were both there together—with Hope dressed up as she was—meant that something unusual must have occurred earlier in the day. Perhaps whatever event brought them together was a mutual interest that she could build upon.
“Now then,” she began, “I assume there is a particular reason for your visiting me?”
…
Hope looked over at Michael, but it appeared he was either asleep or extremely content to let her explain all that they had seen and heard that day. Shrugging, Hope replied, “Well, as you probably gathered, I was down at the Exchange this morning. While I was there, something very strange happened.”
Lady Lancaster’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Strange how?”
“Well, a rumor about Napoleon’s death began circulating—”
“Pfft…” the duchess snorted. “Rumors of his death have been circulating for months now. It’s all utter poppycock! Believe me, if Napoleon had died, you can bet I would be one of the first to know.”
Of that, Hop
e had no doubt. She hazarded another look at Michael to see if he found that bit of news surprising, but unless a soft snore counted as a response, he didn’t appear to care in the slightest.
“I am aware of all the gossip lately. That is part of the reason I went to the exchange in the first place. The government security prices have been fluctuating greatly as of late and I suspected the rumors were the cause of the irregularities.”
“So why did you find this particular rumor so unusual?” Lady Lancaster asked with an impatient look.
“Well, it wasn’t the rumor so much, but rather how the rumor was circulated,” Hope replied slowly, searching for just the right words.
“What are you saying, child? Just how was it circulated?”
Nerves frayed, Hope couldn’t help herself from blurting, “If you would stop interrupting me, I will tell you!” Hope sat up, ramrod straight, and clasped both hands over her mouth. She was mortified.
“Oh, Lady Lancaster,” Hope mumbled from behind her hands. “I am so-o-o-o sorry. I do not know what came over me.”
“Oh, pish tosh,” Lady Lancaster said with a wave of her hand. “In this instance, you were completely in the right. I should have let you speak uninterrupted. Therefore, it is I who should apologize to you.”
With that, Hope saw Michael sit up in apparent astonishment. It was a rare person indeed who garnered an actual apology from the dowager Duchess of Lancaster.
And suddenly, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
For the first time in her recollection, Hope had stood up for herself in a manner such that the person she was speaking to felt the need to apologize to her. So many times in the past, when confronted by a rude comment or snide remark, Hope had either forced herself to smile and say nothing or she would say something but in such a way that it sounded as if she were the one apologizing. But not today. Today she pushed back when pushing back was the right thing to do…and the person she pushed back against acknowledged that she was wrong. What an incredible feeling!
“As I was saying,” Hope began again, “the rumors spread today were much more detailed than normal, and that coupled with the French officers throwing billets to the same effect, everyone seemed much more willing to believe the lies. As a result, the government security values soared.”
“French officers,” Lady Lancaster exclaimed. “Michael, what is she talking about?”
Michael leaned forward. “What she said is correct, Eliz—, ah, Lady Lancaster.”
Hope looked sharply at Michael and then at the duchess. He was about to refer to Lady Lancaster by her first name. Hope wasn’t even sure she knew the lady’s first name, but if Michael did and, furthermore, was comfortable using it, then there was even more between Lady Lancaster and Michael than she had even fathomed.
Neither Michael nor Lady Lancaster acknowledged her suspicious looks. Michael simply continued with what he was saying. “There were two men dressed as officers riding through town on a post-chaise, throwing pamphlets to the people declaring Napoleon dead.”
“And how is it you happened to be there to see this, Michael? I thought you had gone off to handle business at one of your country estates,” Lady Lancaster questioned.
Michael ignored the astonished look Hope threw his way as he answered Lady Lancaster’s question with the details of the day.
“I see,” Lady Lancaster said absently, her mind clearly at work as she digested the information. “And you suspect the charade was meant to manipulate the stock prices?”
“Well,” Michael confessed, “I must admit, I had no idea what all the activity meant. It was Miss Stuckeley who put it all together.”
Hope gave Michael a nod of appreciation for the credit, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of duplicity, even though she tried to tell herself that whatever relationship Michael and Lady Lancaster had was none of her business. It felt like her business, dash it all! And try as she might, she could not reconcile her feelings about the two of them being so close. All she knew for certain was that she didn’t enjoy feeling like an outsider with these two particular people.
“Very good, Hope. I applaud your deductive reasoning. Now we just need to find out which stocks are involved and who made any suspicious trades of said stocks. I will see what I can find out. Surely a committee of some sort will be called to investigate. Why don’t you two return tomorrow morning to discuss what I have found?”
Michael replied immediately, “I will be here. I have information for the officials about this imposter, if nothing else.”
Hope took a little while longer to reply. Her mind was racing with all she had seen and heard today. Finally she said, “I suppose I can also be here. I would like to hear more about how the exchange plans to catch these fraudsters.”
Lady Lancaster clapped her hands once. “Perfect. Then Michael, I suggest you take your leave while I arrange for some appropriate clothing for Hope. We will see you tomorrow.”
Michael stood and said his farewells before making his exit. Hope changed out of her disguise into something more appropriate and then bade the duchess a good day. She was somewhat less than warm in her farewell, because she couldn’t help feeling she had been lied to somehow. It was a ridiculous notion, but Hope couldn’t shake it. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would put everything into perspective once again.
At least she fervently hoped so.
Chapter Six
Often anger is more destructive to the person experiencing it, rather than to the person that inspired it.
~The Duke of Lancaster
The next day, Hope was walking to Lady Lancaster’s with her maid in tow. The trip was taking somewhat longer than usual because Hope was positively dragging her feet.
Before Hope had left the mansion last night, the duchess had asked her to arrive an hour earlier than Lord Lichfield the next morning. She said that they needed the extra time to talk and Hope heartily agreed. However, now she could not find the enthusiasm to do so.
Frankly, Hope was in an abysmally bad mood.
In one day, it seemed that everything she believed in had been ripped away from her. Which she thought completely unfair, because until her run-in with Michael—Lord Lichfield, she sternly reminded herself—she had been feeling happier and more confident than ever.
And while deep inside she knew the talk she was about to have with Lady Lancaster would remove much of her lingering doubts about her benefactress and, very likely, Michael, Hope wasn’t sure she wanted to feel better. For some reason, she was almost enjoying her foul mood. In her own estimation she had every right to be angry, but after everything was explained by the duchess—as surely everything would be—then what would she be left feeling? Certainly not the joy of love in which she had previously imagined herself to be. How stupid was she to think herself in love with someone she so very obviously did not even know?
So call it fear, obtuseness, or sheer ridiculousness, but Hope did not want to talk to Lady Lancaster about it. She would much rather pout, whine, and rail against the indignities committed against her. It was just so much…safer than the alternative.
With a sigh, Hope looked up to find she was already entering Grosvenor Square. She only lived two blocks from the square, so no amount of feet-dragging was going to delay the inevitable arrival by much more than a minute or two, but anyone of Hope’s acquaintance had to admire her effort—or lack of one, in this case. The especially humorous part was that Hope had allotted herself an extra fifteen minutes for what she planned to be a very slow walk to the Lancaster House so that she would not be late.
Good Lord. Even in her positively wallow-y temper, she could not bring herself to be anything less than respectful to her superiors, especially her elder superiors.
Hope shook her head in dismay as she walked up the front steps to Lady Lancaster’s house and knocked on the door. By her estimation, she was actually early, for goodness sake. If that wasn’t the most absurd thing—
The opening of the f
ront door by Jacobs interrupted Hope’s berating thoughts. “The duchess is expecting you, Miss Stuckeley. Please follow me,” Jacobs intoned evenly.
Hope nodded morosely and followed the somber man. Of course Lady Lancaster was expecting her. Why shouldn’t she be expecting her? Didn’t Hope do everything that was expected of her? Even her dressing up as a gentleman from time to time didn’t completely erase the fact that Hope was utterly reliable. Ugh! How much more unromantic could one be than reliable? Exciting, enchanting, inspiring, even interesting…all things she had heard her friends described as, but not her, never her. Hope was reliable, proper, expected…boring.
By the time Hope entered the Rose Room, her disposition was positively black. She considered, for one brief, scintillating moment, turning around and walking right back out of the house, but of course, she did not do so. Scowling to herself, she waited to be announced to the dowager duchess.
“Ah, Hope…early as usual,” Lady Lancaster exclaimed.
“Would you prefer I leave and come back on time?” Hope muttered under her breath.
“What was that, dear?”
“Oh, nothing.” Hope sighed, taking her seat next to the duchess. She really did need to snap out of her mood. None of this was really Lady Lancaster’s fault. Who was Hope to expect the dowager Duchess of Lancaster would tell her all of her secrets? It was just that this secret included Michael and that made it a particularly bitter pill to swallow.
“My dear, I find that I am in the position that I must explain myself,” she said immediately, catching Hope’s eye. “About Lord Lichfield.”
With the utmost politeness, Hope replied, “No, my lady. That is not necessary. What is between you and Mic—I mean, Lord Lichfield—is none of my business.”
“Nonsense! It certainly is your business, and frankly, I should have told you about him sooner, but I felt uncomfortable revealing things about Michael that he should probably reveal himself. However, after seeing what I saw yesterday, I realize that Michael probably feels much the same way about revealing things about me,” Lady Lancaster explained before leaning in close to add, “He clearly does not understand my relationship with you or, indeed, the rest of my girls.”
Tempting Her Reluctant Viscount (Entangled Scandalous) Page 4
