She entered the milliner’s shop and glanced askance at the woman behind the counter. The two of them had performed this dance before. Mrs. Leighton was a beautiful widow in her thirties who held herself with an elegance that rivaled any duchess. Victoria always came away feeling gauche in comparison.
A confection made of netting and feathers perched atop Mrs. Leighton’s smooth blond chignon. The hat was a fine advertisement of her talents and would be at home in any ton ballroom.
While Lady Hawkins moved deeper into the shop, Victoria tarried over a straw bonnet decorated with delicate artificial poppy flowers. What should have been plain had been made special by Mrs. Leighton’s artistry. The milliner swept from behind the counter and joined her in examination of the bonnet.
“It would suit you very well, miss. The color would highlight your dark hair.” Mrs. Leighton touched one of the red flowers. Her lace gloves couldn’t disguise the calluses earned from the delicate millinery work.
“It is a veritable work of art.” In a softer voice, she asked, “Did he leave a message?”
Mrs. Leighton passed a tightly folded missive into Victoria’s hand. She stuffed it into her reticule without looking at what Lord Berkwith had written on the outside. Before she could turn and join her mother, Mrs. Leighton caught her wrist in a tight grip.
“You know Randall doesn’t truly love your friend, don’t you?” Mrs. Leighton spoke through clenched teeth, her lips still curled into a smile. The force and tone of the words took Victoria back. As did the use of Lord Berkwith’s Christian name.
“Actually, I don’t know that.” But she suspected the milliner was correct. The knot in her stomach tightened.
“She should beware.” Mrs. Leighton let Victoria go and nodded as if the vagaries of men were known to Victoria.
It was clear Mrs. Leighton believed Eleanor was on the path to heartbreak. Victoria would have to decide whether to confess her own misgivings to her friend. A headache brewed. She joined her mother where she was trying on a black-and-white turban.
“I know turbans are all the rage, but I’m not sure if they suit me.” Her mother pursed her lips and examined her reflection.
“I’m feeling rather peaked, Mother. I don’t feel up to joining the Carlyles for dinner. Especially as we will be leaving for Bedfordshire day after tomorrow.” Victoria fake coughed into her handkerchief.
Her mother removed the turban. “I hope you haven’t caught a cold. A red, runny nose would make for a poor impression at the house party.”
“A honeyed tea and a quiet evening will set me to rights.”
“Then let’s get you home and bundled into bed with a water bottle.”
Garrick didn’t ride in the carriage with them on their trip home. He crammed himself on top with Callum and John Coachman. Victoria battled relief and disappointment. Callum helped them descend when they returned to the town house, and Victoria was in her room waiting for a tray of honeyed tea within minutes. She paced until her maid, Annie, delivered the tea and a hot before pulling Lord Berkwith’s note out of her reticule.
She tapped it on the desk, staring at the Berkwith’s red wax seal of crossed swords. Typically she would disguise Beckwith’s notes in one of her own and send them to Eleanor with a footman, but this time she would take it herself. Lord Stanfield, a baron with a smallholding in Yorkshire, had taken a town house a short walk away, which was how she’d made Eleanor’s acquaintance.
After finishing her tea, Victoria rang for her maid to inform her they would be calling on Eleanor, which wasn’t unusual. Unlike her next request. “I’ll wait for you in the mews. We’ll leave from there.”
“The mews, miss? Are you planning a visit to the reading room or the bookshop as well? Should we change your gown?” Annie blinked, her spectacles lending her a myopic, slightly confused expression at all times. This made for an excellent ruse. In reality, the girl was as sharp as a hatpin and Victoria’s partner in crime when it came to unsanctioned forays. Annie’s brother worked for Sir Hawkins in a more dangerous capacity, but courage and willingness to take risks ran in the family.
“No need to change. We are only paying a call on Lady Eleanor.” Her skulking was because she wanted to avoid her mother and, even more so, dreaded bumping into Thomas. The buzzing embarrassment and arousal from their secret encounter at the modiste hadn’t faded. In fact, the longer she dwelled on the heat in his gaze as she stripped to her unmentionables, the closer she came to spontaneous combustion.
“Yes, miss.” Suspicions hid poorly behind the deferent acquiescence, and Victoria found herself blabbering on.
“I wish to check on Artemis. It’s been too cold to ride recently.” As excuses went, wanting to visit her horse was thin. One of the girl’s eyebrows arched, and Victoria thought, not for the first time, that Annie was underutilized as a lady’s maid, but she only nodded.
“Very good, miss. Let me clear the tray, and I’ll be there straightaway.” Annie gathered the tea tray and retreated to the kitchen.
Victoria slipped out the back with no one the wiser and did visit Artemis while she waited for Annie. It was better to keep her lies to a minimum. After Annie joined her, they set off at a brisk walk made brisker by the lowering temperature and reached the Stanfields’ town house in less than five minutes. Annie went to the downstairs entrance to pass the time in the kitchens gossiping with the staff while the butler led Victoria to Eleanor, who was thankfully alone in the drawing room.
Eleanor took both of Victoria’s hands in her own and pulled her to the settee. Eleanor wasn’t a great beauty at first glance, but the longer one was in her company, the prettier she grew. Her hair was somewhere between blond and brown and stick straight. Her eyes were hazel and her lips thin, but her teeth were white and straight, and her laugh was simply infectious.
“You timed your visit with perfection. Mother just stepped out to see to the packing. I’m so excited about the house party, aren’t you?” Eleanor asked.
Considering she would be expected to make a life-altering decision while playing snapdragon, Victoria’s enthusiasm had entered a downward spiral. “Indeed, but that’s not why I called.”
With more than a little trepidation, Victoria pulled the missive from her reticle. Eleanor snatched it from her hand, tore it open, and rose to stand by the window to read. She gasped and covered her mouth before looking at Victoria. Her shock was palpable.
“He… He wants me to elope with him,” Eleanor whispered. “Tonight.”
“What?” Victoria joined her friend and took the letter, scanning the contents. Beneath the flowery words of love and devotion lurked sinister undertones. Or so Victoria thought anyway. Mrs. Leighton’s warning had only reinforced Victoria’s instincts regarding Lord Berkwith.
“He implores you to meet him at the Bear and the Crown. That sounds like a common house or an inn. Ridiculous.” If Lord Berkwith were standing in front of her, she would be tempted to employ a maneuver taught to her by none other than Thomas himself involving a well-placed knee.
“I shouldn’t go. I can’t go. Can I?” Eleanor’s expressive eyes pleaded with Victoria, but she wasn’t sure what answer her friend sought.
“I fear your dowry has induced this mad scheme.”
“You don’t believe he loves me?” Eleanor hugged herself.
Victoria opened her mouth to recount Mrs. Leighton’s warning, but she swallowed the words. She didn’t want to be the one to break Eleanor’s heart. “If his love is true, he will be patient and woo you until your parents are won over. He shouldn’t ask you to sacrifice your reputation.”
“But he says he has given up his rooms and is spending the afternoon readying our conveyance. He will be waiting with bated breath for me, and I have no way to get word to him. His heart will be shattered if I do not meet him.” Eleanor paced. “I can simply show up, inform him I can’t elope, but my heart remains true, and return home.”
“Your mother will never allow you take the family carriage to a common house. Al
one. If you or your carriage are recognized, you will be ruined.”
“Do you have a function tonight?”
“My parents are attending a dinner at the Carlyle’s, but I begged off.”
“Mother won’t know that. I could tell her you have extended an invitation to me. She trusts Lady Hawkins. I will come to your house and once your parents have left take a hack to this Bear and Crown place and explain myself. Dear Randall will understand my heart is true. Then I will return to you with no one the wiser.”
“That is a foolhardy plan. Not to mention dangerous. I can’t support it.”
Too many possibilities swirled. What if Lord Berkwith didn’t take no for an answer and abducted Eleanor? As her father often opined, desperation turned good men evil, and Victoria wasn’t sure how good Lord Berkwith was to begin with.
“You could send a note.” Victoria knew the suggestion would be discarded before she even made it.
“I will go with or without your help.” Eleanor’s eyes gleamed with tears and determination.
It was clear Eleanor would not allow Berkwith to pine alone and discarded. Victoria paced and set to formulating a better plan—not that that was saying much. The last thing Victoria wanted was to involve herself further, but she saw no choice. At least she could take care of herself. Eleanor was an innocent lamb among wolves.
“I will go and decline the elopement on your behalf then call on you tomorrow with whatever message he would like to pass on to you.” The one upside to her plan was being able to have a forthright chat with the possibly feckless lord.
“I can’t ask you to put your reputation at risk for me, Victoria.”
Victoria waved the thought away. “I am used to concealment and deception.”
A puzzled look drew Eleanor’s brows inward. “Whatever do you mean?”
Victoria pursed her lips. She’d said too much. For one thing, Sir Hawkins was only known as a man of political influence to society at large. Few understood his actual role. Not to mention, Victoria wasn’t sure how Eleanor would look upon her clandestine outings to bookshops and museums dressed as a sober, veiled widow. Would she be fascinated or scandalized? Neither possibility boded well.
“You must be kind.” Eleanor paced. “And you must assure him of my good will and affection.”
“Of course, I’ll be kind as possible.” Unfortunately for Lord Berkwith, Victoria wasn’t feeling a depth of human kindness at the moment.
“I wouldn’t sleep a wink wondering at his reaction. No. I will tell Mother I’m accompanying your family to dinner this evening and wait in your room while you meet with him.”
Victoria sighed and girded herself to persuade her friend otherwise. Fifteen minutes passed wherein Eleanor countered every argument Victoria made until she accepted it was useless. At least Eleanor would be safe in Victoria’s room and not in Lord Berkwith’s clutches.
On the walk back to her town house, Victoria worked out how to sneak Eleanor into her room, disguise herself, meet a man at a common house, and avoid getting caught or ruined. Honestly, it seemed straightforward enough.
Garrick couldn’t shake the niggling feeling something was wrong. Trouble was, he couldn’t pinpoint the source as being external or somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.
He paced the pavement outside the Hawkins’s town house, but the night was quiet. The temperature had dropped precipitously. The amassing clouds of the morning had moved in and obscured the moon and stars. The coal black sky spit out a few snowflakes.
He returned to the house, chafing his hands, and stood in the entry, hearing only the usual domestic clatter. The laughter from downstairs was a bit louder as the servants finished their work and socialized in the kitchen, knowing the master and missus were absent.
He’d been tasked to remain at the house. Victoria was feeling peaked, or so she’d informed her parents, and had bowed out of the planned dinner party. Garrick hoped he wasn’t the reason she was feeling sick. The guilt of his indiscretion was crushing him. While he might not be well born or wealthy, he was honorable. Or so he’d believed.
A rattle of dishes brought his attention around to Annie, Victoria’s maid. There was a steaming teapot, cup and saucer, and an assortment of food on a tray.
“How is your mistress feeling?” he asked.
The maid started and blinked at him. “She must be in poor straights. She asked me to leave the tray outside her door and not to enter under any circumstances.”
“I’ll take it to her. You can put your feet up in the kitchen.” He took the tray. Or tried to, at any rate. Annie didn’t seem inclined to let go.
“There’s no need, sir. I’m sure you have more pressing matters.” Annie tugged the tray back toward her.
“Annie. Let go of the tray.” He used his most intimidating tone.
Annie firmed her jaw and, after another few seconds of playing tug-of-war, released the tray with a rattle of china. “Have it your way, sir. But don’t forget, Miss Victoria does not want to be disturbed. Just give a rap and leave the tray.”
Nonplussed, Garrick stared at the maid. She seemed to be waiting for something, and finally, he nodded. “I won’t disturb her.”
“Very good then. See that you don’t.” Annie pointed a rather threatening finger at him before turning and making her way back toward the kitchens, reluctance obvious in her mincing steps.
He waited until she disappeared before tackling the stairs to Victoria’s room. He owed her an apology. He should have offered one as soon as they’d returned, but he’d been a coward. He let a huffing laugh escape. He’d never been accused of cowardice before. His cohorts in the shadows would have a good laugh over his current predicament.
He hesitated outside Victoria’s door before shifting the tray and rapping lightly. “Are you well?”
No answer.
“I’m going to come in. If you’re truly ill, I should send for a physician.”
A thump sounded on the other side of the door, followed by shuffling feet. “Uh, no, thank you, sir. I merely need sleep. Leave the tray outside and leave. Please.”
Sir? Had Victoria ever addressed him such? Only mockingly, and the voice on the other side held no humor. Garrick examined the tray. Bread and cheese and cured meat. A hefty slice of cake. Whoever was on the other side of the door, it wasn’t an ill Victoria. Was it a French agent? Was Victoria being held hostage or worse?
Garrick’s heart sprinted ahead, but he forced fear out of his head. Noiselessly, he set the tray down and tried the latch. Locked. In as calm a voice as he could manage, he said, “I know you aren’t Victoria Hawkins. Open the bloody door.”
“Wh-whatever do you mean? Of course I’m Victoria.” Whoever was in the room was too poor a liar to be an enemy agent.
“You have until I count to five to open the door.”
“Or what?”
“Or I will break the door down and force the truth out of you. Very unpleasantly.”
He made it to two.
A soft creak signaled her capitulation and revealed a lady who had come to call many times but whose name he couldn’t recall. The bed was rumpled, and a novel lay splayed on the rug. Nothing else in the room raised alarms. Except for the woman who was not Victoria.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“E-Eleanor Stanfield. Lady Eleanor Stanfield.” She shuffled backward until her bum hit the mattress, and she sprawled in a half-reclined position. “Please don’t ravish me.”
The lady was terrified, and as it was partly—all right, mostly—his fault, he tempered his voice and held up his hands in supplication. “I’m not going to ravish you. I’ve been tasked to protect Miss Hawkins by her father. I can’t protect what is not here, now can I? Where is she?”
“Nowhere.”
Garrick sighed. “Lady Eleanor. I know you know where she is. Tell me.”
Lady Eleanor daubed her lips with her tongue, her gaze darting around the room as if the answer lay somewhere between the bed and heart
h. “She’s running an errand for me.”
“This late in the evening? Unchaperoned?” His hands curled into fists.
Sir and Lady Hawkins had taken the carriage, which meant Victoria was traveling on foot or in a hack. While he didn’t want to frighten Lady Eleanor into muteness, urgency thrummed through him. He stepped forward and stared into her eyes. “Victoria may be in danger. You need to help me help your friend. Where did she go?”
With the tell of one who was guilty, she couldn’t hold his gaze. “The Bear and the Crown.”
He was familiar with the common house. It sat on the edge of Clerkenwell, a section of London that had been fashionable many monarchs ago. It had deteriorated into a warren full of vendors and artists and printers. While it wasn’t as dangerous as Seven Dials, it was no place for a gently bred young lady, even one as capable as Victoria, especially after dark.
“Why on earth did she go to the Bear and the Crown?”
“To meet a gentleman.”
Her pronouncement made him reel back a step. Had he been blind to the fact she was in love with another? Had his blatant hunger driven her to rashness?
“I didn’t realize she had a special gentleman.” He barely recognized his voice. “Still it begs the question of why he is not calling at the house like a true gentleman.”
“Oh. Well, as to that…” Lady Eleanor fiddled with the lace edging on her sleeve. “Lord Berkwith is not her special gentleman, but… mine.”
“Victoria has gone to meet Lord Berkwith? On your behalf?” At Lady Eleanor’s nod, he ran a hand through his hair. “Why would she do such a foolish thing?”
“She only wished to protect me. You see, Lord Berkwith asked me to elope with him.” Now that the confession had begun, the words rushed out in a torrent. “Victoria didn’t think it wise. She says he should pay his addresses like the gentleman he is, but I had no way to get a missive to him and didn’t want him to think my love is not true, so Victoria went in my place.”
He had many questions but distilled his thoughts to the most pertinent. “How did she get there?”
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 132