Still, she wasn’t the sort of woman he had in mind for his friend. Miss Grimwood was like an exotic parrot, while he envisioned something more of a quiet field mouse for James. He shook his head. Funny, he hadn’t thought Miss Grimwood had listed her Christian name as Edwina. He couldn’t exactly remember what Miss Grimwood had listed, but he would have remembered Edwina. It was the unusual sort of name that one wouldn’t forget. Not that it mattered now. Her fiancé would undoubtedly take steps to ensure she was properly prohibited from meeting Ashton again, and that was a pity.
He checked his pocket watch. Time to meet James at the club. He had hoped to have surprising news of an introduction, but it appeared that must wait.
• • •
EDWINA STRUGGLED TO KEEP PACE WITH WALTER, BUT then decided she’d had enough. She planted her boots firmly on the pavement and braced herself. Fortunately, Walter stopped before his fast stride pulled her to her knees.
“I am not your fiancée, Walter,” Edwina scolded. “You must stop telling people that we’re betrothed.” She pulled her arm free of his grasp. “I have a say in this matter, not just my father.”
“An inexperienced woman like yourself shouldn’t speak to men like that Trewelyn,” Walter grumbled, easily dismissing her complaint. “You have no idea of the sort of man he is.”
“Neither do you.” She tried to pin her hat more securely to her hair. “He was quite the gentleman in the Crescent.”
“I know things about him.” Walter scowled. “He has a reputation, you know. I’ve heard the men talk about his exploits at my club. I’d tell you, but it’s not suitable for innocent ears.”
Walter’s standard reply to any question she might raise on a topic of interest was that it was inappropriate for innocent ears. A respectable woman, in his opinion, must never discuss anything beyond the weather and fashion. Where was a woman with a natural curiosity to find answers if not through discussion?
Walter glowered at something in the distance. “Besides, he may have been the one.”
“The one?” She frowned up at him. “What are you speaking of?”
“Why were you there by yourself?” he asked suddenly. “Your bluestocking friends won’t be meeting until tomorrow.” Though she was surprised he knew her schedule so well, the sneer in his voice left no question about his opinion of her friends.
“I was . . . conducting research.” He wouldn’t leave her alone unless she provided some purpose for her activity.
“Research? Research for what?” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t fancy yourself a newspaper writer like that friend of yours.”
“I was researching for the suffragettes.” It was the one topic that she knew would bring an instant end to his questions.
“You know your father and I don’t approve of that group.” He averted his gaze, and hastened his pace toward her residence.
“You don’t approve of any of my interests,” she murmured. “Why is it that you attend your clubs with pride but ridicule mine?”
“Because men are expected to go out in the world. Women are expected to stay at home.” His voice softened as if he were talking to a child. “Once you have your own house and children to care for, you won’t have time for that suffragette nonsense.”
She didn’t reply, as she suspected that he was right. She’d be trapped into a life of caring for the needs of everyone else except herself. She’d be like the women who sent those coded messages to the personals. Women longing for someone else, something else that would be forever denied once they traded their freedom for the security of marriage.
Not that the alternative was much better. She didn’t want to be a spinster forever clinging to the charity of her parents and, once they were gone, becoming a burden to her brothers.
Why wouldn’t society allow her to be like her brothers? Free to travel the world and experience other cultures? Why must she always be under the protection of some man who obliged her to keep a tidy house and mannerly children? It just didn’t seem fair.
“Here you are, Edwina. Safely delivered to your doorstep.” Walter beamed as if he had single-handedly fought off an entire tribe of marauding Zulus, just to escort her down the avenue. “Be sure to tell your mother that I inquired about her health.”
Did he? She hadn’t been listening. He had that look in his eye again. The one that suggested he was debating whether to kiss her cheek.
“We’re not engaged, Walter,” she said with one hand on the doorknob.
“But we will be.” He smiled. “I’ve been saving every week. Soon I’ll have enough to lease a small house, then I shall ask permission of your father.”
The impulse to ask her permission never seemed to enter his thoughts. Edwina sighed and went inside.
• • •
THE NEXT DAY AT THE CRESCENT, EDWINA REPORTED HER experiences—including the kindness of a hot pot of tea—to the rest of the Rake Patrol, except for Sarah, who was unable to join them that day. Edwina pointed to the table where Trewelyn had planned to interview the women he’d selected from the stack of responses, and shared how a fallen rose had led to Trewelyn’s misconception.
“Then what happened?” Faith asked, hanging on every word. “Did Casanova really believe you were one of his correspondents?”
“He did until Walter arrived. I’m . . . I’m not certain what he thinks now.” But she was afraid she did. His pattern change hadn’t gone unnoticed. When he thought she was one of his respondents, he appeared interested, perhaps even appreciative. She recalled the flutter beneath her corset when his eyes warmed as he took her measure. Then Walter referred to her as his fiancée and that very appreciation faded into derision. Yes, she could very well guess what he thought of her now, and none of it was complimentary. She gazed at the open Mayfair Messenger, hoping the others didn’t notice her discomfort. She ran her finger down the personals. “Now that he’s seen my face, it will be more difficult to warn others without his knowledge.”
“Do you think he’ll continue to meet women here?” Faith scanned the customers almost as if she expected a wide-eyed innocent to be clutching a rose at one of the tables. “I talked to several women who had responded to his ad. Most had not received an invitation to meet Mr. Trewelyn.” She hesitated. “I suppose I could take Edwina’s place for watching for future meetings held here. It’s an important kindness we are doing and—”
“No!” Edwina exclaimed, pointing to an ad. “Look at this!”
Claire peered sideways. “It’s just a series of numbers. What does it mean?”
Edwina scrambled in her reticule for her journal and pen. “It’s in code, but if I’m not mistaken, this portion of the series is the address for Trewelyn’s residence.” Her brothers varied the codes they used for their letters as a form of sport. To hasten the translation when they used a number code, Edwina kept a conversion table that listed the letters of the alphabet and their numeric components. She untied the ribbon on her overstuffed journal and quickly transcribed the code. “Casanova’s arranging a meeting at his residence.” She decoded another sequence of numbers.
“Why would he send a coded message to his intended victims?” Faith asked. “How would they know to transcribe the code?”
“This message isn’t for the ladies.” A sense of foreboding settled deep in Edwina’s stomach. Based on her brief encounter with Trewelyn, she doubted that the man was as dissolute as the others inferred. Else why would he have been disappointed when Walter said they were engaged? A truly dissolute man wouldn’t care about the commitments of their conquests, would he? But this . . .
She glanced at Faith. “The message is for a group called the Guardians. He’s arranging a meeting for them at his residence.”
“For what purpose?” Claire asked.
“No one uses a coded message for philanthropic purposes,” Edwina said in
hushed tones. Even her brothers had initially started using code to hide their activities from their governess and parents. She bit her lip, not sure she wanted to give voice to her fears.
“Perhaps we didn’t interfere in all of his appointments,” Faith whispered. “Perhaps he already has women installed in his residence, and now he’s inviting his friends to participate in a night of debauchery.”
Edwina had to agree they could have missed warning some of the women. They had assumed Trewelyn would follow Sarah’s advice about meeting at the Crescent. But he could have arranged to meet women at other places as well. The Rake Patrol simply didn’t have the means to follow all of Trewelyn’s activities. Following him for one day had been difficult enough.
“Those poor women,” Claire said. “They’ll have no means of escape.”
Edwina hesitated. In spite of all the stories of his womanizing ways, Trewelyn just didn’t seem as evil as the others insisted. She’d need additional proof.
“Edwina, buying you a pot of tea doesn’t make him less of a rogue,” Faith said, sensing her indecision. “He could have been trying to ferret his way into your good graces so as to seduce you into becoming one of his women.”
The word “seduce” tingled through her rib cage. She supposed it was wrong of her to wonder . . . but what would it be like to be seduced by the likes of Casanova? A delicious warmth stirred deep in her belly, unlike anything she’d ever experienced in Walter’s company.
“If only we had a way to know what these Guardians intend,” Claire mused. “Maybe we should watch Trewelyn’s residence in advance of the meeting.”
“Why?” Edwina asked.
“I’m not certain,” Claire admitted. “We’d at least learn the identities of the Guardians.”
Edwina wasn’t convinced.
“We simply can’t remain silent and do nothing,” Faith argued. “We are the only chance for those poor frightened women.”
Though reluctant to connect Trewelyn with evil intent, the existence of the coded message proved problematic. Why have a coded message if not to meet in secret? And why meet in secret unless for wicked intentions? Perhaps she needed to see Trewelyn’s evil exploits for herself. Then perhaps she could embrace the others’ opinion of his dire intentions. Maybe she would even be able to appreciate Walter’s protective tendencies rather than lapse into annoyance. “I’ll go,” Edwina said quietly.
“What?” Faith’s head turned toward her. “Where will you go?”
“To Trewelyn’s address,” Edwina said with conviction. “They’re meeting tomorrow night. I’ll go and see if women are being lured for a feast of debauchery.”
“Walter would take you?” Faith’s lips formed a small moue of surprise.
“No.” Edwina almost laughed at the thought of Walter escorting her to a gathering of ill repute. “I’ll go alone. I’ll watch the entrance from the confines of a hansom cab and if I see an innocent, I’ll do my best to warn her so she can flee.”
“Your father will not let you go out alone at night without an escort,” Faith warned.
“My father won’t even know I’m gone.” Edwina smiled. “When they lived at home, my brothers routinely left the house without anyone knowing.”
“How?” Claire asked.
“They climbed the rigging of the Black Spot.” Edwina’s lips turned with the nostalgic memories. “The boys read the story Treasure Island to me when I was still in the nursery. We used to pretend the old oak in the back garden was a pirate ship, the Black Spot.”
“I thought the black spot was a pirate’s note of impending punishment,” Claire said.
“It was, in the book,” Edwina explained. “Richard thought the name would inspire an amount of fear and trepidation among our imaginary enemies.”
“And how does an oak tree in the garden assist you in escaping your room in the house?” Faith asked.
“We referred to the tree branches as the rigging. We could climb to the crow’s nest near the top of the tree, and back down rather easily. One of the branches reaches close to the boys’ room.” She didn’t mention that obtaining that branch would require a jump from her window ledge. She was too small when her brothers were at home to attempt such a feat, a fact the boys had routinely taken advantage of. They would race away for adventure while she remained behind, watching them disappear into the night. Little did she realize that was to be their pattern as they grew. She was always to be the one left behind to translate the stories of their adventures.
“And you’ve climbed this rigging before?”
“Not recently,” Edwina replied. She could have said “never” and been just as truthful. By the time she’d obtained the sufficient length to make the jump, the boys had moved away to school, leaving her home alone without the proper incentive to do so.
Faith shook her head. “You’ll break your neck.”
“Perhaps,” Edwina said, but she doubted that would be the case, though she wouldn’t rule out a torn dress or even a broken arm. A sort of excitement began to build. An excitement that she hadn’t recognized since she waved good-bye to her brothers so many years ago.
“It might be a little dangerous,” she said, glancing up at her friend. “I’m not a coward. Besides, it’s an adventure.”
“It’s unnecessary,” Faith said, shaking her head. “I’m coming with you. Make some excuse for your absence. There shouldn’t be complaint from your parents. Nothing bad could possibly happen if we’re all together.”
• Three •
ANTICIPATION THICKENED THE AIR, MAKING IT DIFficult to breathe. The driver had positioned the brougham so that they had an unobstructed view of the Trewelyn town house without being directly across from the front entrance. Even so, they left the carriage lamp unlit to avoid detection. All three of them speculated early in the evening about which depraved individuals would constitute the Guardians. Edwina and Faith kept their noses pressed to the windows, waiting to confirm their suspicions.
They waited . . . and waited. Claire broke the silence by lecturing about the latest political scandals revealed in the Pall Mall Gazette, a subject Edwina found tiresome at best. Only an occasional hansom passed their position, and none of those slowed to allow passengers to disembark. Soon Edwina’s initial excitement mellowed to something akin to boredom.
“What if the girls are already inside?” Claire asked. “If they are, we won’t be able to prevent them from succumbing to Casanova’s web.”
While Edwina couldn’t actually see her clearly, she could sense Claire’s disappointment. How odd to be disappointed that acts of depravity were not taking place, but then that sort of news wouldn’t appear in the political papers. “The ad said that the meeting of the Guardians doesn’t begin till eight o’clock,” Edwina reminded them. “I would guess it’s barely seven now. We shouldn’t have arrived so early.”
“Suspicions would have arisen otherwise,” Claire insisted. “Think of it, Edwina. If the purpose of the Guardians is to use a woman in some deviant conception of pleasure, wouldn’t Trewelyn be certain of a woman’s availability before advertising the party? If so, wouldn’t he already have one or more women confined in the house?”
Faith gasped and lowered her voice. “They could be drugged and not able to refuse.”
“Drugged?” Edwina couldn’t imagine Ashton Trewelyn would need to drug any female to gain her cooperation. All he would have to do was look at her with those eyes, speak with that voice, smile with those lips . . .
“Opium, Edwina. That’s what they do. They force an opium pipe on an innocent so she can’t object. She won’t even know what has happened until it’s too late.”
Edwina’s head swam with talk of political scandal, opium, and innocents, all of which was phrased in context with Trewelyn. While her mind accepted the possibility of her friends being correct, especially
given Casanova’s reputation and the existence of the coded message, something still felt at odds with their perceptions. She opened the carriage door.
“What are you doing?” Faith asked, grasping her arm.
“I’ve been sitting too long,” Edwina replied. “I thought I could walk a little to clear my head.” And escape the close confines of the carriage, she thought, but kept to herself. The windows made the cramped interior of the brougham tolerable, yet she was still uncomfortable. She had never been at ease in confinement. Not since her brothers had locked her in a chest when she’d tried to follow them in her early years. She breathed easier with the carriage door open.
“If you walk on the pavement, the Guardians might see you. They could sweep you up into their web of decadence,” Faith admonished.
Edwina smiled to herself, believing such an occurrence unlikely. Something about time spent waiting in a dark conveyance must heighten the imagination. She glanced down the solid row of fashionable London town houses. “We don’t even know if any women are inside.” She turned back to Faith. “No one has arrived for the festivities. I’ll just take a peek around back.” Faith began to protest, but Edwina was insistent. If she stayed in that carriage another minute, she’d scream.
Faith rose as if to follow into the night. “You stay here,” Edwina insisted. “It could be that the girls just haven’t arrived as yet. If you stay here, you might be able to intercept them.”
“But what if the Guardians catch you? What if you don’t come back?”
“If I’m not back in an hour, then you can find a policeman to make inquiries,” Edwina said. “Not any sooner, though. I don’t want to be arrested in the mews as a potential thief.” She smiled and pulled the hood of her cape over her hair. “Most likely I shall return in plenty of time.”
Faith handed her parasol to Edwina. “Take this. It makes an effective weapon if necessary.” Then she settled back into the cushions. “You be careful, Edwina.”
The Casanova Code Page 4
