Where previously his task had been tracking down the elusive—and nonexistent—Rachel Newbury, his new assignment looked to be both easier and more difficult. Locating the Marquis of Ebberling would, at the most, take him an hour or two, and that was if the man wasn’t at home this morning. Much more complicated would be finding a chink in the man’s armor.
It needed to be done, however. Because the arithmetic was simple; in order for Emily to be free, Ebberling needed to be removed. Killing him would be the easiest method, but murdering a marquis in the middle of Mayfair would only have everyone digging deeper. In that case, someone else might find Emily, and she would be by far the most likely culprit. Aside from that, Nathaniel had had his fill of killing, even for king and country. With no alternative he wouldn’t hesitate, but he kept it as a last resort only.
No, for all the pain and fear the Marquis of Ebberling had caused over the past three years, to his wife, his son, and to Emily, he deserved something less … clean. Something he could consider for a good long while—and something that rendered him harmless.
That would take some consideration, and a detailed survey of his quarry. As Nate swung up on Blue and headed off to White’s Club, he realized that he’d never been as thankful as he was now to be a spy. Because someone else might have found Emily, someone else might have handed her over to Ebberling, and the man might well have gotten away with ending two lives for his own satisfaction. Nate gave a grim smile. He’d always relished the chase, but he’d never cared about the prize, until now. My, how things had changed.
So. First he would find the man’s friends, then he would get them talking, and then he would find that one misstep the marquis had made in all this. Because if he’d learned one thing, it was that everyone made a mistake. He’d thought that he’d made one in taking on this little puzzle, but as he glanced down the way in the direction of the unseen Tantalus, he couldn’t think that any longer. This had happened for a reason, because otherwise he couldn’t name the point of putting himself and his family through the past ten years.
And still he continued doing equations and calculating the logical odds of success. Nathaniel snorted, making Blue flick his ears back. When he’d become the crusading knight he had no idea, but it was pleasant, for once, to feel like a hero. For Emily’s sake he hoped he would still prove to be one at the end of this venture.
* * *
As Emily had expected, once the coach reached The Tantalus Club, Jenny vanished in the direction of Adam House. Emily’d decided that Lord Haybury was more likely to keep the tale of her low birth from his wife than his wife’s closest friend was. At the thought of that conversation, a sliver of uneasiness ran down her spine.
Diane preferred to have highborn ladies employed at the club, because wrapped in scandal or not, well-bred women attracted well-bred men. And in that case, any scandal the ladies brought with them actually helped the popularity of the club. Emily was certainly well educated, because she’d seen to it that she was. Before this point, though, she’d made certain that she had nothing scandalous attached to the name Emily Portsman, and she’d minimized her contact with the club’s member. That had all been by design, to make her useful with the least number of questions asked about her past.
Now, however, the potential for an interest-raising scandal was rather outweighed by actual legal difficulties if Ebberling discovered her and decided he preferred to accuse her of murder rather than simply kill her out of hand. And that had become a possibility now that she’d made the acquaintance of people who claimed that they wouldn’t let her vanish without comment.
She sighed as she went to collect the ledger for the produce purchases. They had all sounded sincere, and at the least she finally knew why Diane and Oliver’s relationship had been so volatile when she’d first met them. And if she was arrested, she didn’t doubt that they would all express their dismay with the proceedings. As for whether they would do more than that, she had her doubts.
With one exception.
The way Nathaniel had looked at her this morning had stopped her heart. All sorts of silly, girlish notions had flitted lightning-fast through her mind—marriage and children and peace and safety, and Nate waking up beside her every morning, holding her in his arms and telling her that he would never let her fall. That silly dream could never be, but she believed that he would aid her with Ebberling, if only for his own pride.
As for the rest of it … It might be easier to flee, after all, so she wouldn’t be present to hear him tell her they were finished with, and she could go back to finding random, dim-witted men to share her bed when the loneliness started roaring in her ears. Because without him, none of the rest of it was likely to matter. She’d spent most of her life alone, relying on her own wits to survive, and she could do it again. Knowing what she’d almost had, what she might have made of her life if either of her parents had been even distantly related to a baron or a knight, had to be far worse than never knowing about it at all.
The common room was fairly empty at this time of morning, with the day staff all on duty and the evening staff not yet ready to gather for luncheon, and she spread the books out on one of the long tables to work. Juliet Langtree, the evening butler, had delivered a note to her room last night, and she opened it first. Lord Gilbert Parglen missed her and wished to call on her this evening.
She tucked the note into her pelisse pocket to answer later, actually somewhat surprised that Lord Gilbert knew how to write. He certainly must have missed her, if he’d gone to the trouble of thinking of words and putting them to paper. But she would be declining his request, regardless. The occasional evening’s entertainment had lost most—all—of its allure now that she’d found someone whom she could imagine as more than a midnight friend.
“Emily.”
Starting, she looked up as Diane, Lady Haybury, strolled into the room. The marchioness was dressed in black as always. Even her hair was black, which made her deep green eyes all the more luminous. “Diane. Jenny spoke to you, I imagine?”
“She did.” Emily’s employer seated herself on the bench opposite. “In your opinion,” she continued in a low voice, though the only other people in the room were Mr. Jacobs, the largest of the Helpful Men, and his evening coworker Bartholomew, playing a game of whist by the fire, “is Ebberling more likely to attempt to murder you, or to have you arrested?”
She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that for a moment Emily thought she’d misheard. “I’m … I’m not certain,” she answered. “If he could do as he wished, I think he would prefer me silenced. The arrest would make it a longer, more messy process, and there’s always the chance that he couldn’t bribe everyone involved to make certain it went his way.”
Diane nodded. “That was Jenny’s opinion, as well.” She reached over, taking the pen from Emily’s fingers, and set it aside. “Haybury Park will be fairly empty this time of year, but it has the benefit of being better than two days out of London, and Oliver will hire a few additional footmen to make certain you don’t have any unwelcome visitors.”
“I—thank you so much for offering me your home to stay in, but I’m not leaving London, Diane.” Her first instinct had been to flee not only the city, but the entire country. Things had changed, however. She’d met Nathaniel Stokes, and even if their relationship were to end, she had him now. She was loath to give him up. “I’ve done some things of which I’m not proud, but I never did anything to Lady Ebberling but flee from the man who killed her.”
“This is not about being ruined, Em. This is your life.”
“I know. And I’m not going to do anything foolish, but neither will I run again. Not yet, anyway.”
The marchioness sighed, though she didn’t look terribly surprised. “Then you are not to leave the Tantalus again without telling either myself or Jenny precisely where you’re going and when you expect to return. You will not set one foot into the club itself until this is resolved, and you will pack a portmanteau in the event that we need to smuggle you away quickly. Is that clear?”
“You realize that if he does find me and decides to have me arrested, I will be found guilty. The club will not fare well if that happens.”
“The Tantalus is my concern. Do you agree to abide by those rules, Em?”
“Yes.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked down, willing them away. “You know the rest, do you not? Jenny told you about my parentage, I assume.”
Diane stood. “She did. If I haven’t made it clear before now, you’re here because of who you are, not who you were. We are not a charitable organization.”
Her employer had said that before—many times, in fact, and in the past Emily had always considered it a good thing that the marchioness didn’t know the truth about her. Now, however, she’d abruptly begun to look at it differently. None of the Tantalus girls was here out of the kindness of Lady Haybury’s heart. They were here because they were strong, competent women.
With a slight smile she lifted her head to return to her work, then paused, setting the pen aside once more. She’d spent her entire life running from her past, and the previous three years actively hiding from it. So what did she mean to do now, continue peering out from behind the curtains while she waited either for Nate to solve her problems or for Ebberling to return to Shropshire? And then what? Did she continue as before until Ebberling returned to London with his new bride—or worse, as a second-time widower? Would she send for Nathaniel again and hope that he still liked her enough to ride to her rescue once more?
“Piffle,” she muttered, and gathered the ledgers up in her arms. Simply because she’d found herself with friends, and one dear, dear man that she’d already begun to dread losing, didn’t mean that she could no longer look out for her own well-being.
Once she’d returned the books to their place, she retreated to the room she shared with the very tolerant Lily, where she closed and latched the door. Then she walked over to look at herself in the dressing mirror. Over the past three years her face had thinned a little, and to her own eyes she looked … wiser, she supposed it was, but what would Ebberling see?
Her, if he looked beyond the darker color of her hair and the much less governess-appropriate clothing. Rachel Newbury, governess and witness to a murder. That would never do. In fact, the only two things in her favor were her red-brown hair and the fact that he would never expect to see her walk directly up to him. “Heavens,” she muttered, putting a hand over her pounding heart. She sat down at her dressing table. Could she do such a thing? Even to save herself?
A knock sounded at her door, and she jumped. “Who is it?”
“Betty,” came the answer. “Lady H said I was to bring up luncheon for you, but you weren’t in the common room.”
Emily rose again and went to open the door. She’d always had a special place in her heart for the cook’s assistant. Not only was the girl far too young to have to be fending for herself in the world, but she’d found a place where she could improve upon the life she’d been given. In some ways, they were very similar.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Betty asked, setting the luncheon tray on Lily’s bed. “Do I have something on my nose?” She rubbed at the offending member, which did serve to smear a dot of soot, but didn’t matter a bit to the smattering of freckles across her nose.
“Do you think we’re of a size?” Emily asked, taking the girl’s hands and spinning her in a slow circle.
“I think you’re a tad taller than me, and I’m not near as skinny. And your bosom’s grander than mine. Why?” The cook’s assistant eyed her suspiciously.
“Because I thought I might loan you one of my gowns, if you would lend me one of yours.”
“Mine? I don’t have any gowns. Just this work dress, one other like it, and a blue one for church.”
Emily went to her wardrobe and lifted first a pretty yellow gown from a drawer, then a slightly more practical green one. “I think this one would fit you,” she said, holding it up to the younger girl’s shoulders. “Would you care to try it on?”
Betty fingered the soft silk. “I’d love it, but where would I wear it? Not into the kitchen. Miss Charity would have my head, for putting on airs.”
“There’s to be a troop of Russian acrobats at Vauxhall tomorrow night. A group of the day girls are going. I’m not, so you could take my place. I know April would be happy to sit with you. And so would Sophie, or Lily.”
“Acrobats?” Betty breathed. “Yes, please!”
With a chuckle, Emily set the dress on the bed. “Then let’s go find your other work dress and a sewing kit. We’ll let this gown out a bit, and lengthen your dress hem out. It’ll be fun!”
“For me, yes. I still don’t know what you’re about, wanting one of my dingy dresses.”
“I’ve a mind to visit someone,” she said slowly. “And I want to surprise him.”
She wanted to do more than that, but if she could fool Nate, then Ebberling would be simple. If she could make herself walk close enough for him to see, that was.
Once she had Betty’s dress let out at the hem enough to reach her ankles, she went to find Jenny. However much courage she might have found to attempt this, she wasn’t quite ready to face the world without the assistance of someone as skilled in subterfuge as she knew Genevieve Martine to be.
“What are you doing?” Jenny asked, when she opened the door of her own private sitting room. “This is not what Diane asked of you.”
“No, it isn’t. But I am not a damsel in distress. I want to be free of this, Jenny, and I’m the only one who can do it.”
“I could do it.”
Emily frowned. “Very well, I concede that you would likely be better at this than I would. But I
should
be the one to do it, nevertheless.” She forced a smile as she pushed past her friend into the room. “I do imagine I have the makings of a better servant than you do.”
Jenny put her hands on her hips. “And what do you mean to do, then? Find employment in Lord Ebberling’s house and trick him into confessing that he murdered his wife? He will never do that, not to a servant. And even if he did, you already have that information. He needs to confess in front of witnesses that a court would listen to.” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless you mean to murder him. I will not assist you with this.”