“Just the man I was hoping to see,” Tony said. “Sit down, Latham. Sit down.”
Patrick sat down in a comfortable leather chair.
“What have you been about, Tony?” Patrick asked as Tony gathered up the cards on the table.
The glint in Tony’s eyes told him that the gentleman held some sort of mystery. Patrick believed he knew well the nature of that secret.
“Am I right in assuming you’ve found yourself a new paramour?” Patrick asked.
“Hardly,” Tony said. “Emmy suits me quite well for the time being. But I did purchase a new pair of riding gloves.”
Patrick stared at him for a moment before the truth struck him. “You went to Elliot’s.”
Tony’s face split into a huge grin. “My God, man,” he said. “She’s incredible. That face, those eyes, that figure.”
Patrick felt that now-familiar glimmer of possessiveness. “Ah,” was all he could say.
Tony laughed at his wry expression. “You can’t keep her to yourself, Latham. She’s too bloody beautiful to ignore.”
Patrick leaned toward his friend, a man with as strong a reputation as a rake as he, and chose his words carefully. “She’s not for you, Tony,” he said deliberately.
Tony blinked in response. “What do you mean? As charming as Miss Victoria Elliot appears set in the midst of that lovely shop, surely she would prefer to be kept in an equally lovely apartment.”
Patrick clenched his hands into fists. “Tory is not—” He stopped himself and took a calming breath. “Miss Elliot is not a woman who would welcome such an arrangement, Tony.”
“Tory?” Tony repeated with a grin. “A most fitting name, I daresay. Means ‘Victory’ if I’m not mistaken. Seems to me she’s won a few swains’ hearts, eh Latham?”
“Let it go,” Patrick said through clenched teeth.
“I meant no offense, Latham.” Tony shrugged and began to deal a new game. “One would believe that you’ve taken her under your own protection.”
Patrick ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a breath. “That notion,” he said as he took up the cards, “is out of the question.”
Tony’s head snapped up from contemplation of his cards, his blue eyes round.
“Why not?” Tony asked incredulously. “Haven’t you taken women under your protection in the past?”
“No. And she’s not that type of girl,” he told Tony.
Tony snorted in disbelief.
“You’ve met her,” Patrick continued. “Tell me you believe such an arrangement would suit her.”
“You’re a wealthy gentleman, Latham,” he said. “She wouldn’t have to work.” His mouth curved into a grin. “At least, not on her feet.”
Patrick felt no anger at the man’s goading. He simply shook his head.
“Victoria’s different,” was all he would allow.
Tony raised his brows a good inch and let out a low whistle. Patrick cast him a sideways glance, reluctant to hear the man’s latest insinuation.
“You don’t truly favor the girl?” he asked Patrick in a low voice.
Patrick merely shook his head and turned his attentions to the cards dealt to him. How had Tory so quickly wormed her way into his heart? No, he swiftly decided. His heart wasn’t at issue. He wanted her and that was all. But what, pray, was the meaning of such thoughts?
He played his hand of cards absently, his mind swirling with the incredible notion of making Victoria far more than his mistress.
* * *
Victoria stood with Nan in Elliot’s Fineries, arranging the exquisite handkerchiefs that had arrived that morning. The lacy trim had been painstakingly embroidered with the tiniest of flowers in pretty pastel colors, and Victoria was certain they would prove to be very popular among the young ladies.
The Season was well underway, and the ladies would surely have no free time to work their own stitches until its conclusion in August. She took vicarious pleasure in the stories she overheard while the girls shopped at Elliot’s, unable to keep from wishing she could experience at least one ball. She hummed a tune to herself as she closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the very handsome Mr. Latham asking her to dance, his gloved hand held out to her.
“Girls,” Mrs. Floss said, carrying a tray of tea biscuits. “Do let’s set up the refreshments. In mere moments, we’ll no doubt be trampled.”
Victoria and Nan shared a smile. “Coming, Mrs. Floss,” Victoria said.
“Right away, Mrs. Floss,” Nan chimed in.
Tea was steeping and cups stacked and ready as they put out the treats J. B. procured from a local bake shop. The combined scents of sweets and strong tea reminded Victoria of her afternoon with Patrick at the tearoom.
“Oh, these are lovely,” Nan said, turning a platter so the violet sugar crystals caught the morning sunlight coming through the front windows.
“Take one” Mrs. Floss told her. “You could use some sweets, I daresay.”
Nan shook her head. “No. I couldn’t.”
“Whyever not?” Victoria asked, snatching one herself. “These are delicious, and my uncle sees to it that we have plenty.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Floss said. “Sometimes there are a few left that I bring home to my girls. Take one, Nan.”
Nan nibbled her lip, desire clear in her green eyes. “Perhaps.”
Mrs. Floss clicked her tongue and grabbed two off the platter. “Eat these, Nan. Before you faint away. I’ve already had one of the lemon tarts this morning.”
There was kindness in the woman’s voice but Victoria caught something else as well. Something like mothering, and Nan appeared to bloom a little from the attention.
“Thank you,” Nan said as she accepted the biscuits.
Victoria nibbled her treat, and the three of them finished setting up the refreshments. J. B. soon opened the doors, and the time for chatting and indulging in sweets was over.
“Victoria,” Nan said in her usual shy whisper.
“Yes?” Victoria asked absently, glancing up from the stack of handkerchiefs she’d gone back to arranging.
Nan looked about nervously, and Victoria followed the girl’s line of vision. She blinked in surprise as a woman entered the store, as different a lady as she’d yet encountered. The curvaceous woman’s hair was a brassy blonde, and curled elaborately about her head. Her makeup was heavy, her lips painted a vibrant red. Her clothes seemed ill-suited to daytime—her ample bosom was nearly exposed!—and Victoria watched with amazement as she looked the more regal customers directly in the eye as she passed them.
“Whatcha starin’ at?” she questioned one lady whose face wore obvious disdain.
At the lady’s sniff of annoyance, the blonde laughed loudly. She approached the table where Victoria and Nan stood, running her fingers lightly over nearly all of the items which came into her reach on her way.
“Ain’t these lovely,” she said, picking up one handkerchief and holding it close to her cheek.
Victoria was relieved that the linen came away from the woman’s face without a smudge.
“They’ve just arrived,” Victoria said as she watched a nervous Nan move away. She turned her eyes on the voluptuous woman once more. “May I help you?”
The woman sighed loudly and set the pretty little handkerchief back on the table.
“I don’t know,” she said with a dramatic wave of her heavily beringed hand. “I was hopin’ I could find myself a little trinket. You know, a bit of a treat for myself. I’ve heard that you have some of the best here.”
Victoria smiled and directed the woman to the jewelry counter. The woman peered into the glass, her nose nearly pressed to the case.
“Maybe some earrings,” she mused aloud. “Somethin’ to match the lovely brooch a gentleman recently gave me.”
Victoria suddenly knew with absolute certainty that this was the woman well-suited to the garish brooch Patrick had chosen. Her pulse pounded as she took a breath to calm her nerves. She watched warily
as the woman leaned toward her.
“Not that he had to gift me with it,” the blonde confided with a saucy grin. “Gave me as much pleasure as I gave him, he did!”
Victoria pictured the two of them in that moment, Patrick’s strong arms wrapped around the blonde’s lush body while her very red lips planted kisses on his handsome face. She blushed, forcing her thoughts aside. It was no business of hers how he spent his time. She withdrew a tray holding several pairs of earrings. The woman hummed tunefully as she perused the goods before her, finally choosing a pair that nearly matched the gaudy brooch.
“What do you think of these, love?” she asked Victoria, holding them up to her dainty earlobes. “Now, mind, I’ll be wearin’ a different outfit than this one. Somethin’ a bit more enticin’—Or knowin’ my gentleman, maybe nothin’ at all!” the woman laughed conspiratorially.
Victoria’s eyes widened. What could she possibly say to that! She glanced over her shoulder and noticed Mrs. Floss suppressing her laughter as she unpacked the latest shipment of scarves.
“The earrings are lovely, Miss.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sure your er-gentleman caller will enjoy seeing you wear them.” Goodness, she was beside herself. She’d never met such a woman as this. So bold. The woman seemed very pleased with Victoria’s reply and followed her to the purchase counter, her humming growing a bit louder. Victoria wrapped the jewelry for her, her fingers shaking a little. Don’t think about them together. Don’t think about them together.
“Thanks so much, love,” the blonde said with a wink. She turned from the counter and almost bumped into Lady Bowler, who’d just arrived. “Well, let me tell you, m’lady,” the coquette exclaimed to Lady Bowler. “If you’re looking for a pretty trinket to impress your fella, this is the place to find it!”
The wealthy matron huffed at being spoken to in such a manner. Mrs. Floss had a sudden coughing fit and Nan’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide as she almost dropped the porcelain figurine she was dusting. Victoria busied herself at the counter, pretending she hadn’t witnessed the exchange.
Breaking into a pretty song, the woman swept herself from the shop, leaving whispers of outrage in her wake. Victoria watched her go, her mind still reeling from the realization that Patrick could quite possibly be the blonde woman’s lover. She thought of the touch of his finger to her own lips and well imagined the pleasure he could give a woman. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear Mrs. Floss come to stand behind her.
“There goes one of those opera girls,” Mrs. Floss said to her. Victoria started and turned to face her. “Most of them entertain gentlemen on stage and off,” the older woman went on.
Victoria was unable to shake the feeling of betrayal. Stop it, she told herself. Who was Mr. Patrick Latham to her anyway? If he chose to spend his time with such women, what did it matter to her?
Grateful for the harsh ring of the bell, she turned her attention to the business of selling pretty items to London’s elite.
* * *
Patrick walked down Bond Street, unerringly bound for Elliot’s. The past evening’s musings had done nothing to quell his desires to find a way to bring Victoria Elliot into his life. He hadn’t been speaking falsely when he’d told Tony that Victoria was meant for so much more than being a rich man’s plaything. There was passion in her, of that he’d no doubt. But the fortunate fellow who brought it forth should be man enough to earn it, not just pay for it.
He stopped before the shop as he’d done nearly every day since his first encounter with Tory. Should he treat himself to a conversation with her today? The sight of a woman exiting the store, her brassy blonde head bobbing along with the tune she was singing, caused his feet to freeze to the stone walk. Emmy.
Emmy stopped in mid-song when she spied him, her red mouth an O of surprise. That mouth curved in a smile as her eyes lit up with pleasure.
“Latham!” Emmy gushed, walking toward him. “Why, what brings you out into the morning sunshine?”
Patrick smiled down at her, a bit chagrinned that he’d not paid her any mind for the last two weeks.
“Hello, Emmy,” he said. “And how is it that you’re awake before noon?”
Emmy laughed, the sound full of music and self-confidence.
“I can survive on very little sleep, Latham,” she told him, her eyes sparkling. “Long after you took your leave I would stay awake reading.”
Patrick’s cheeks heated. He always regretted his swift exit from her little room, but never imagined that she stayed awake in solitude.
“Emmy,” he began, “I don’t know what to say.”
She waved her bejeweled hand in the air. “Don’t fret about such matters, dear Latham,” she smiled. “My new gentleman doesn’t share your aversion to passing time in my company as well as in my bed.”
Duly chastened, Patrick nodded.
“And do I know this particular gentleman?” he teased.
Emmy’s eyes sparkled and she gave a coquettish nod. “But a lady doesn’t speak of such matters,” she said with a cheeky grin.
Patrick laughed. His eyes fell on the small parcel in her hand. “And what, pray, did you find to interest you in Elliot’s, Emmy?”
“Bought myself a treat,” she said. “And what, pray, brings you to this particular shop, Latham?”
Patrick shifted his gaze to the carriages making their way along Bond Street, seeking to avoid answering the girl’s question. When Emmy let out another boisterous laugh he turned to face her, arching his brow in question.
“She’s a lovely little dove,” Emmy said. “And quite sweet-tempered to put up with all those high and mighty ladies.”
Patrick shook his head in denial. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he insisted.
Emmy’s eyes narrowed shrewdly and he suddenly had the uncanny feeling that she could see into his mind, his soul. Lord knows she’d always managed to anticipate his every base desire. Why should his mind be immune to her perception?
“What are you thinking, Emmy?” he asked with some trepidation.
She bit her lower lip for a moment. At last she shook her head, blonde curls bouncing from the motion. “I believe there’s far more to you than you ever let me see,” she offered with a slight shrug.
He stood there, feeling like an utter fool. Nonetheless he recovered and took her hand in his, dropping a kiss on her fingers.
“Good day, Emmy,” he said with a bow. “And do give my regards to the fortunate man now sharing your company?”
“Certainly,” she chirped.
Patrick watched as she made her way down the street, humming as her feet danced over the stones of the walk. He didn’t regret his involvement with her, but he could have handled the end of it with more tact.
He turned his attention from the lithe figure dancing away from him and faced the many-paned window of the storefront. He glimpsed Victoria, taking her usual care with a snobbish customer Bewildered from his encounter with Emmy and what she’d said to him, he turned away from the auburn-haired vision and all the promise that she encompassed. Taking plodding steps, he glumly took himself away from the store.
CHAPTER 5
A few days had passed since Victoria’s encounter with the opera girl, and in that time she’d tried to keep the woman and her provocative statements out of her mind. The image of the blonde caught in Patrick’s embrace often floated before her, particularly at night as she sought to find elusive sleep. The daylight hours offered her little relief. She didn’t want to know why he kept away from the shop, certain that he was spending his time with the opera girl, or someone else like her. She told herself again and again that he meant nothing to her. Pity she couldn’t convince herself.
At least today she could fill her mind with preparations for a short trip to be taken with her uncle. J. B. had assured Victoria that Nan and Mrs. Floss could handle the running of the shop. He wanted to take her to what was widely considered to be one of the finest fairs held in early September each ye
ar. The Sturbridge Fair, held in Cambridge since 1211, promised a variety of interesting diversions, J. B. had insisted, giving him the opportunity to peddle his quality goods as well as the chance to purchase unique items for the shop.
She allowed herself a glimmer of excitement as she packed a little satchel for the trip. She’d only been to country fairs. She’d never been out of St. Ives before moving here to London. They were to stay on the fairgrounds, in a snug little booth her uncle had assured her would be suitable. She set her satchel aside and, willing Mr. Latham from her mind, she retired for the night.
The next morning they arrived fairly early. Victoria peered excitedly out the window as the carriage rolled to a stop. After they alighted to walk among the bustling crowds, J. B. hurried her past the show booths containing exotic beasts, performers and human oddities, his lips pursed in impatience and distaste.
Victoria was astounded as she glimpsed giant men and tiny people and scantily-dressed dancers populating the entertainment tents and various stages. Snatches of music, loud and soft, was tuneful and exuberant. She found herself humming along as she strained to take in all that was visible before they hurried past. Colorfully dressed tumblers rolled on by her, big grins splitting their small faces as Victoria laughed gaily at their antics. They soon passed the rows of shops selling fruits and cheeses, and J. B. told her that they were as fine as any that could be found in London. The aroma of sausages, baked goods, and fried meats filled the air. Her stomach rumbled in response.
“Oh, I must sample some of these delights, Uncle,” she said as they reached a booth selling the most delectable looking meat pies.
J. B. gave a quick nod and purchased a few of the pasties before hurrying her along once again. They finally reached a range of booths referred to as Garlickrow. She knew J. B. had sent workers ahead to construct his shop near the end of this range, though she was surprised by how well-built and comfortable it appeared. It bore more than a passing resemblance to the shop in town, though naturally on a much smaller scale. The fittings and fixtures were as fine, the cloth and drapes as lush. The little booth even possessed a back room in which they could have a private rest, with comfortable furnishings borrowed from her uncle’s residence in town. The shop was placed between two like booths, one specializing in furniture and the other in the finest in footwear.
That Determined Mister Latham Page 5