Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] (15 page)

“But isn’t that a favorable outcome?”

“Yes. But there’s no one to challenge the will. Where’s the sport in that? Solicitors need to eat, too.”

Edwina patted his arm. “Always thinking of others. Well, I’m sure the solicitors will find something to dis
pute and charge us an exorbitant fee for, isn’t that right, Lord Oxley?”

“Um, ah, yes, those devils can always find something to argue about. Ah…” Lord Oxley cleared his throat. “By the by, you look lovely, my dear.”

Edwina patted a curl. “A new coiffure and a sensible engagement will do wonders, don’t you think?”

A sheen of sweat appeared on Lord Oxley’s upper lip and Edwina found herself feeling slightly sorry for him. But only slightly, the man was an atrocious busybody. “Sensible…I…ah…must be off, my dear. I well, I give you my congratulations.”

The flustered Lord Oxley swept through the crowd.

Edwina let out a thankful breath and smoothed her gown, feeling elated by the jest, but sad all the same for having to go through it. She couldn’t quite understand how Prescott always managed to keep that mask so firmly in place. It had to be a very isolating experience.

“Psst. Ladies’ retiring room,” a voice muttered. Edwina looked up in time to catch a glimpse of Janelle’s retreating back and the violet feather of her turban flopping through the crowd.

Edwina’s stomach dropped, knowing this had to be about the blackmailer. “Ah, if you’ll excuse me, Prescott?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes of course.”

She made her way to the retiring room, her nerves on edge.

“Psst!”

Edwina jumped.

Janelle stepped out from behind a fern.

Pressing her hand to her racing heart, Edwina
chided, “Why must you be so wretchedly…dramatic?” She restrained herself from using one of the other choice words that had come to mind. “Prescott is no fool! He had to have seen you, and you’re acting more shiftily than a spying Polonius jumping behind a curtain!”

“Oh, piffle! And although I adore Shakespeare’s
Hamlet,
don’t you dare compare me to an actor.”

Waving an ivory-gloved hand, Janelle motioned for Edwina to move with her behind the fern.

Edwina couldn’t quite believe she was hiding behind a tree, but did as Janelle wanted, whispering, “Where’s Ginny?”

“Are you drunk? I told you, in the retiring room.”

“And?”

Janelle frowned. “And she’s mightily upset. She received a note. She has no idea how it managed to get into her reticule, but when she went into the retiring room, there it was.”

Gritting her teeth, Edwina once more sent off a prayer for forbearance. “And what did it say?”

“She’s to be at the Kendrick house party in five days time and be prepared to get all of her letters back.”

Edwina’s eyes widened. “All of them?”

“Yes, for a payment in the amount of five hundred pounds.”

Edwina hissed.

Heads swiveled her way and eyes glistened with a speculative gleam.

Pressing her hand to her mouth, Edwina whispered, “The knave!”

“Ginny’s very upset.”

“I’d be, as well!” She bit her lip. “But this is actually
good news. At the Kendrick estate, Prescott and I can search the guests’ rooms, looking for those Françoise Millicent shoes or the letters.” Being in love and stealing off to bed early was the perfect excuse. Fleetingly, Edwina pondered how nice it might be for that to be true.

“You need an invitation first—”

“Isn’t your nephew Albert married to Lord Kendrick’s niece?”

Rolling her eyes, Janelle scowled. “Yes, fine, twist my arm, I’ll try to secure it. But I make no promises…”

“Thank you.” Edwina frowned. “But how does the blackmailer know that Ginny will be invited to the house party?”

Janelle shrugged. “How did he manage to get the note into Ginny’s purse?”

“Probably in the crush of the crowd.” She shuddered, looking through the fern leaves. “The man’s a bit too crafty for comfort. Which begs the question—why is he returning all of the letters? Why the sudden change in tactics? Does he somehow suspect that we’re hunting him?”

Janelle waved a hand. “He knows nothing because nothing’s happened. I’ll bet he’s greedy and simply wants the entire blunt in one lot.”

Edwina bit her lip, knowing she wasn’t grasping all of the nuances. “I’ll discuss it with Prescott. I’ll bet he has some ideas.” It was surprising how much that thought soothed Edwina. “But first, we must see to Ginny.”

“You go on.” Janelle adjusted the violet sleeves of her gown. “I fear you’re right about raising Mr. Devane’s
suspicions. I’ll see to him now, so when you present the note as your own he won’t deduce a conspiracy.”

“I don’t know, Janelle, the man’s astoundingly astute…”

Janelle glowered. “Don’t start in again about telling him the truth, Edwina.”

“Prescott ought to know. I mean, he’s in as deep as we are.”

“We promised Ginny, remember?”

“But—”

“Enough, Edwina. Ginny likes him and would be upset if he learned the truth. Don’t you think she has enough distressing her?”

Edwina’s arguments died instantly.

Scratching her chin, Janelle pursed her lips. “But I must agree with you on one point, Mr. Devane is turning out to be a surprising young man.”

Sighing, Edwina stepped out from behind the fern, muttering, “More than you could ever know.”

T
he next day, the afternoon’s golden haze hung over the path as Edwina and Prescott strolled along Rotten Row at Hyde Park. The air was still, with no discernible hint of breeze, and damp with the potent scent of the nearby Serpentine.

A choir of gray-and-brown birds sang in the trees, diving now and again to snap up the crumbles dropped by playful children. Groups of people mingled about, chatting, laughing and enjoying Lady Hinsdale’s birthday celebration at a picnic nearby.

As they walked arm in arm away from Lady Hinsdale’s gathering, as usual, Prescott shortened his long-limbed stride to match Edwina’s.

“I want to thank you, Edwina, for your assistance at the docks,” Prescott remarked. “The contracts were signed this morning.”

“Excellent. I’m so glad for you. Were they able to secure all of the space you required?”

“Down to the last container.”

“I think your new venture will be quite successful.” She nodded. “Your reflective lanterns provide more light and burn on much less oil. Very economical. I can’t see how people won’t be lining up for them.”

“I appreciate your confidence, but people are used to burning candles at home since many don’t like the smell or smoke of the oil. No matter that this is a far superior design to lanterns in place today, people won’t spare money on them until the lanterns are in circulation for a time.”

“Your capacity to understand human nature is admirable.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t spend my hard-earned money on something unproven simply based on the claims of its seller. I would want to see it in action, hear from people who’d used it.”

“So what will you do?”

His lips lifted at the corner. “So you think I have a plan, do you?”

She smiled, enjoying how he teased her. “Don’t you always?”

“Hardly, but in this instance, I do, as a matter of fact. I’m working with a friend in the Bow Street Office who is introducing me to some of the men in charge of the patrol forces.”

Her eyes widened. “Why, that’s a brilliant idea. The patrols need good light yet cannot carry too much. Your lanterns are a perfect fit.”

“I think so. Now I have to convince the fellows in
charge of the patrol forces. When we’re back from the Kendricks’ house party I’ll be meeting with the heads of the Horse Patrol and the Foot Patrol. Then once the lanterns are in circulation for a while, people will see how well they function, and, with any luck, will buy their own. It should build from there.”

Edwina bit her lip, unsettled. Prescott was already thinking of the time after their plan was completed. Well, he had only promised her four weeks. But she’d hoped that now that he knew her, he might extend that time period…to catch the blackmailer and finish the job, of course.

“You’re awfully quiet, Edwina,” Prescott noted. “You’re not still worried about the invitation, are you? As I told you before, the blackmailer wouldn’t have set the exchange at the Kendricks’ without knowing you’d be invited.”

Once more, guilt washed over Edwina about not telling Prescott the whole truth. But Janelle’s arguments were persuasive enough for Edwina to keep her mouth closed. Ginny’s relief at Edwina assuming the role of victim was obvious, especially since she’d grown fond of Prescott.

But what did Prescott think of Edwina being subject to a blackmailer’s scheme? Did he believe that she’d had a lover? That she’d broken her marital vows? The thought displeased. But then again, it might mean that she’d be open to taking a lover now…

“I’m sure the invitation will be waiting for you when we return to your house,” Prescott assured.

Edwina pushed aside all thoughts of lovers and Prescott and focused on the more important issue at hand, the blackmailer. “Ah, when we do receive the
invitation, will you be prepared to leave promptly?”

“My bags are already packed.”

“Good. The earlier we’re there, the sooner we can get started searching rooms. This is quite a favorable development, knowing that the blackmailer is one of a limited pool of people.”

“I agree. The gods seem to be shining favorably upon your plan. Another turn, my lady?”

“Yes, please.”

“It helps with your nerves, doesn’t it?”

“Ah, yes, actually.” She smiled up at him. “And I do enjoy the benefits of exercise.” The actual benefit she was enjoying was his company, not the exercise. That, and the feel of his hand pressed reassuringly on hers, the now-familiar musky male scent that was exclusively his and the nimble way he moved alongside her.

It was a rare treat to have Prescott all to herself, and Edwina savored the delicious heat that being near him stirred. He was so strikingly handsome and so exceedingly attentive that she could hardly blame herself for being infatuated with him.

She tripped.

Holding her up, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I ah, my toe caught on the edge of my skirt.” Dear heavens, she
was
infatuated with him! Her traitorous cheeks burned.

“They’re calling you ‘The Blushing Widow,’ you know.”

“‘Blushing’?” She felt her cheeks flame. “Really?”

The twinkle in his eye was amused. “I can’t imagine why.”

She bumped him with her hip and his smile only widened. “Don’t blame me, I didn’t come up with it. If
they’d asked me, I would have come up with something much more spectacular.”

“Like what?” She bit her lip.

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps, ‘London’s Wicked Widow’ or ‘The White-hot Widow.’”

“Oh, you…” She moved to pull away from him.

He hugged her closer. “No you don’t. You’re not going anywhere.” Squeezing her hand deeper into the crook of his arm, he leaned so close she could smell the lemon on his breath from the ices they’d been eating earlier. “I’m only teasing.”

“I don’t like being teased,” she lied, fancying how he held her.

“I meant wicked in the good sense. And what’s wrong with white-hot? Would you prefer stone-cold?”

“Of course not. It’s just all so…ludicrous. My clothes may be different and my hair rearranged, but I’m still the same person inside.” Yet, that wasn’t quite true. When Edwina was with Prescott she
felt
different; she felt witty, pretty and, well, interesting. She didn’t feel like he was with her because she was the Earl of Wootten-Barrett’s daughter, or because she was well-heeled or because her father had pressed him into it. She felt like he actually enjoyed being with her. Though it had all begun as a ruse, the friendship was there, she could feel it.

“Why do the gossipmongers choose to call me a widow when, to them at least, I won’t be a widow for long?”

“I think some still believe that you won’t go through with the wedding.”

She started. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised. Crying off’s been known
to happen a time or two.” He leaned over conspiratorially. “And in our case, it’s not so very far from the truth. It’s good, actually, and will make it all the more believable once we do break it off.”

Edwina’s stomach sank; he said it so coolly, as if it didn’t matter. She’d miss the blazes out of him. That smile, those teasing gibes, the way she felt while with him. The friendship was nice, lovely in fact. But she wanted to explore more about how he’d made her feel when he’d kissed her. She’d never felt anything like it before and doubted that she ever would.

But she had hardly any time left with him before he’d be gone. And then what? Would her whole acquaintance with passion have been boiled down to two startling kisses?

She wanted more before he was gone. Much more.

But how to do it?

Lots of widows took lovers, so why shouldn’t she have a taste of not-so-forbidden fruit? Especially since she would never remarry. Where was the harm?

A nervous flutter tickled her middle. Could she dare? Would she be able to go through with it? She, the woman who a handful of days before had considered herself “not built” for passion, now wanted to take a lover? It seemed too fantastic to be true.

Prescott coughed into his gloved hand. “Lady Blankett—Janelle, as she insists I call her—is turning out to be quite the little spy. She’s already ascertained five of the other invited guests to the Kendrick estate. No doubt by tomorrow’s end she’ll know them all.”

Edwina was surprised at the little twinge of jealousy in her heart at Prescott’s use of Janelle’s Christian name. Her stomach twisted with the stark reminder
that Prescott was only
pretending
that she was the most special woman in his life.

What had she been thinking when considering an affair? He didn’t want her. He’d called that kiss in the alcove an “experiment”; it meant nothing to him! Inside, she burned with humiliation. No matter what she was “built” for, it wasn’t going to happen with Prescott Devane. Or anyone else for that matter. She determined to act normal and keep up the conversation as if disappointment wasn’t spearing her heart.

“You and Janelle seem to be getting along better,” Prescott remarked.

“Yes, I want to thank you, Prescott, for smoothing things over between us. She still manages to challenge every idea I propose, but there isn’t the rancor that there used to be. You have a gift for understanding what makes people tick.” The first hint of breeze rustled the leaves in the trees and a young lad took off running as he attempted to fly a yellow-tailed kite on a lackluster wind. “One that I, lamentably, lack.”

“It would be hard for anyone to see past that barbed tongue when it’s flaying one’s hide.”

She chuckled at the vision he described. “I like the blunt way you put it.”

“Janelle really does remind me of Mrs. Nagel and of something that Headmaster Dunn once told me. He said, ‘The sharpest tongue often guards an injured heart.’”

Edwina was touched by the headmaster’s insight and by the fact that Prescott was wise enough to learn from it.

“Pardon me,” a soft voice murmured from behind them.

Stopping, she and Prescott turned. A lovely young
lady with freckled cheeks, sea blue eyes and bouncy blond curls sticking out from her peach-colored bonnet stood before them. She clutched her lacy white fan before her as if in supplication. “Lady Ross, my name is Miss Matilda Gelds, and I wanted to know…wanted to ask…Well, I want to join The Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females.”

Edwina’s smile slowly disappeared as she realized that her connection to the society had somehow become public knowledge. Her father would not be pleased. “I’m flattered, Miss Gelds, but, if I may be so bold, are you certain that your parents would approve?”

“Your parents didn’t, and it didn’t stop you.”

Edwina stiffened. Who let that cat out of the bag? “A parent’s approval is not dismissed so lightly, Miss Gelds. Especially when one is still living under her parents’ roof. I was a widow—”

“I want to do good works. Enrich my mind with engaging topics—”

Edwina raised a hand. “Miss Gelds—”

“I know you’re the president and I tracked you down before my friends Cornelia or Edith. I took action and sought you out. That should count for something.”

Edwina’s eyes widened. There were others? What in heaven’s name was going on?

“I suppose Miss Gelds will have to go through the typical membership application process?” Prescott hinted.

Slowly, Edwina nodded. “Everyone must. Even the president cannot supplant procedure.” The society didn’t actually have a formalized process, but perhaps it soon would.

The young lady stepped forward. “I want to become
a member and follow in your footsteps, Lady Ross. Pray tell me how do I go about making my application?”

“Do you know the location of the society?”

“Of course, 183A Girard Street, adjacent to your home. My friends are waiting for you there. I decided it would be more shrewd to seek you out before the others made their requests.”

Others waiting…Edwina pasted on a smile. “If you leave your information with Mrs. Lucy Thomas at the society, then I will be certain that your application is duly considered.”

“Will you put in a good word for me, Lady Ross?”

“I cannot make any promises, Miss Gelds. But you will have as good a chance as any.” Edwina had no idea what the process might be, but undoubtedly it would be fair.

The young lady whirled, making the fringe of her peach cottage vest and the skirts of her white jaconet muslin walking dress swirl. “Thank you, Lady Ross! I will go make my application straightaway!” In a cloud of peach and white, the young lady raced off.

“Oh dear heavens.” Edwina pressed her hand to her heart. “What prompted that?”

Prescott looked down at her. “For every nasty dowager out there, there are impressionable young girls taken to romantic fancy who probably delight in the notion of a lady of means marrying a man with nothing. All for love.”

“But what has that to do with the society?”

“Our engagement draws attention to you, and as a consequence to your endeavors. The most notable being the society.”

“I had no idea the society would become so publicly known.” She groaned. “Oh, my parents are not going to be happy.”

“You mean that the comment about your parents’ not approving was true?”

“Not approve? A club for ladies? My parents are utterly mortified.” She pressed her fingers to her temple as a sudden headache came upon her. “Oh, I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

“I can see why a harpy like your mother-in-law might not be so enlightened. But why do your parents disapprove of the society?”

“Where do I begin? My father is dismayed that we collect clothes for the needy and actually
deliver
them ourselves. He’s mortified that we help women in prison. Heaven forbid these women can support themselves as servants, seamstresses and the like when released. He doesn’t like my ‘bluestocking’ friends, my opening up my home, holding meetings. The list is long.” She sighed. “I don’t understand it and doubt I ever will.”

“Perhaps the true reason your father disapproves of your society is because he knows what goes on at his own club? The drinking, the gaming, the friends the members don’t necessarily want their families to know about…Nothing terrible, but all preferably undisclosed. Thus, no one can question their behavior.”