How to Plan a Wedding for a Royal Spy

by Vanessa Kelly

  “What would you like to know, sir?” Bridget asked in a bright tone. The girl had an engaging and well-spoken manner that immediately disarmed.

  “I was curious as to when you came to London, and what part of Ireland you hail from,” he replied.

  “We come from Londonderry, sir, in the north. We arrived in the city two years ago this September.”

  “And why did you come?”

  “Because there ain’t no work back home, thanks to you bloody English,” Terence growled. “Why else do you think we’d be leavin’ our home and kin?”

  “That’s enough, Terry,” his sister rapped out. “If you can’t be keepin’ a civil tongue in your head, you’d best be quiet and let me do the answerin’.”

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had all day, girl,” Terence said, his mouth turning down with an ugly sneer. “Have your little chat with the swells. I got other business to attend to.”

  On that trenchant note, the man slapped his cap back on his head and stalked out of the room.

  Bridget’s cheeks flew bright red flags against her pale skin. “Miss Whitney, I’m that sorry you had to see that. You too, Captain Endicott.” She grimaced. “Poor Terry hasn’t been himself lately, what with the problems with work and all.”

  Evie patted Bridget on the shoulder. “You’re not to worry, dear. We completely understand.” She glanced at Will. “Terence lost his job last week, the third time in as many months. It’s been very frustrating for both of them.”

  “He’s a good man, he is,” Bridget said earnestly, “but he’s plagued by the blue-devils, and then he starts drinkin’ and missin’ work. Father O’Kelley’s tried talkin’ to him, but Terry just tells him . . . well, it wouldn’t be proper to repeats what he says.”

  “I’m sure you’re doing your best to help him,” Will said.

  Bridget pulled off a shabby glove to rub her temple, as if it pained her. “I try, but he ain’t makin’ it easy. I keep tellin’ him we’re that lucky to be here in London when things are so bad at home. But he won’t hear none of it. He misses it, you see. Ireland,” she finished, her voice breaking.

  “And I respect him for that,” Will said. “It’s hard when you miss your home and your family.”

  “But you’ve done well, Bridget,” Evie said with an encouraging smile. “You’ve made a splendid go of things, and you’ve been very helpful around St. Margaret’s as well. We so appreciate everything you do.” She looked at Will. “When Bridget first came to us, she assisted Mrs. Rafferty with the cleaning and the mending. She still helps out on her day off, and whenever else she can.”

  Bridget gave him a shy smile. “Mrs. Rafferty taught me all sorts of things, and Miss Whitney helped me find a position.”

  “We’re very proud of Bridget,” Evie said. “She’s a maid in Sir Gerald Milbank’s household, and we have every expectation that she will one day become a lady’s maid or even a housekeeper.”

  “I hope so, miss,” Bridget said. “I’m workin’ hard to get there someday.”

  Will had been nodding and smiling while the women talked, but the name of Bridget’s employer had pricked up his ears. Sir Gerald was a wealthy magistrate with strong connections to the current government. Will knew he often held dinners for senior ministers like Peel or even the prime minister. Those men were not sympathetic to the cause of Irish republicanism, and it made him wonder if Bridget had any idea of the politics of the man she worked for.

  He asked the girl a few more questions about her employment and where her brother lived—which was in a St. Giles tenement, not surprisingly—but made no objection when Bridget excused herself, saying she had to speak to Mrs. Rafferty before returning to work.

  “What do you think?” Evie asked after Bridget had taken herself off.

  “She seems a bright, capable young woman who stands to do you proud,” he said. “I take it that this is the main focus of your work—trying to secure gainful employment for your charity cases.”

  Evie nodded. “That’s the first thing we try to do. The men often find work as day laborers or unloading ships on the docks, but it’s harder for the women. The only option sometimes is working in the mills. They’re dreadful places, but the other choices are worse.” She shook her head, looking infinitely sad. “We’ve lost more than a few women to prostitution and thieving, I’m sorry to say.”

  “But fortunately not Bridget.”

  She brightened. “Yes, I’m so proud of her, because she’s worked very hard from the day she first came to us, training with Mrs. Rafferty and taking as many of our classes as she could. I was thrilled when we were able to find her a place in Sir Gerald’s household.”

  “How did you manage it?”

  “I know Lady Milbank, Sir Gerald’s wife. Her grandparents on her maternal side were Catholics, so she’s fairly sympathetic to our cause.” She wrinkled her nose. “Unlike much of the aristocracy, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Is your primary strategy to find work for the people you sponsor in the homes of the aristocracy?”

  She nodded. “And in any decent household with servants. For the women, certainly, since those are the best jobs for them. But we try to place everyone who comes to us in a position that will ultimately lead to them acquiring a skill or profession. If not as a servant then in some useful trade, or working in a shop or one of the shipping companies. There are a fair number of shopkeepers and businessmen of Irish descent in London who assist us in that regard.”

  Will was more than impressed with all Evie had accomplished. With part of his mind, he listened intently for anything that might be remotely suspicious or indicate that Beaumont was involved in conspiratorial activities. Nothing he’d seen or heard today provided any evidence, although it was clear that St. Margaret’s warranted further investigation. Terence O’Shay and his open resentment indicated that such was the case, since it was impossible to imagine he would be the only one of the church’s charity cases to harbor antipathy toward the English.

  But another part of him had to acknowledge that damned growing fascination with the new Evie. She’d thrown her heart and energy into her charity work, coming to life with a glow that lit up her beautiful eyes and brought vibrant color to her cheeks. Will remembered that look from their youth, though in those days it had been for him that she glowed.

  He was petty enough to admit to some satisfaction that he hadn’t seen her sparkle like that around Beaumont, except perhaps when they talked about their work. Still, it was Beaumont who would eventually be the lucky recipient of her full affections, not him, and that stuck in his craw like a piece of rancid mutton.

  He kept silent, digesting everything he’d seen and heard, until Evie gave him a verbal nudge.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to know?” she asked, a faint but amused challenge in her voice. “Or do we pass muster?”

  He forced a smile. “I’m very impressed, and I’m sure Alec will be too. You’re doing wonderful work here, Evie. Even a frippery fellow like me can see it.”

  She scoffed. “Nonsense. There’s nothing frippery about you, and you know it.”

  “Perhaps I’ll surprise you one of these days.”

  She tilted her head, giving him a puzzled smile. For a moment, he thought she was going to pursue the lead he’d just tossed her, but then she gave a small shake of the head. “If there’s nothing else,” she said, rising to her feet.

  “Just one more question,” he said, standing. “Are there many hard cases like Terence O’Shay? I don’t much like the idea of you dealing with a man like that, to tell you the truth.”

  “Now you sound like my mother,” she said dryly.

  Will clutched his chest. “Cut to the quick in one fell swoop.”

  She laughed, but sobered enough to answer. “Terence is a very difficult case, I’m afraid. He holds on to a great deal of anger against the English, despite our concerted efforts to convince him we’re not all monsters.” She sighed. “There are a few others like
him, I must admit, but Terence is about the worst.”

  Anxiety rustled through him. “You’re never alone with those men, are you?”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Goodness, no. Michael generally deals with the men, or Father O’Kelley. I work primarily with the women and the children.” She smiled. “I enjoy that very much.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Now, I think I’ve made you work quite hard enough, and I’m also honest enough to admit that I’m beginning to fear for my horses. Who knows what those two scamps of yours have gotten up to?”

  Evie laughed. “I’m sure they’re fine, but I agree that I’ve bored you enough for one day.” Her lush mouth curved into a surprisingly flirtatious smile that set the pulses hammering in his veins. “Now, Captain Endicott, I do believe you promised me an ice, did you not?”

  “I did, madam, and I intend to keep that promise.”

  Will flicked another glance into Beaumont’s office, noting the placement of the window and the desk before he followed Evie out of the room.

  He’d be back soon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Evie smiled at her sister as she accepted a cup of tea, although she suspected her smile looked more like an anxious grimace. Ever since Will arrived for her mother’s dinner party this evening, looking outrageously handsome in his regimentals, she’d been struggling to repress the shivers that danced along her nerves and weakened her knees. And when she thought she’d finally managed to get them under control, she’d found herself sitting next to Will at the table. Then the shivers had turned into flushes that burned up her neck to her cheeks. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was coming down with the ague.

  “Wolf’s making you nervous, isn’t he?” Eden murmured from her spot next to Evie on the damask chaise tucked into a corner alcove. They’d retreated there as soon as their mother led the women into the formal drawing room after dinner, hoping to avoid conversation with anyone. Evie needed to be left in peace so she could reorder her thoughts before Will, Michael, and the other men joined them for tea.

  She’d already spent most of dinner stammering like a fool every time Michael glowered at her from the other end of the highly polished table. Mamma had deliberately placed her next to Will, as far from Michael as she could. It wasn’t Evie’s fault, and she had every intention of telling Michael that as soon as possible. It did him no good to glare at her when she merely talked to her dinner partner, as basic manners dictated. Michael obviously thought she was flirting with Will though she was doing nothing of the sort. She wouldn’t dream of it.

  Except that she had dreamed of it, along with all sorts of other unnerving things since their outing to St. Margaret’s a few days ago.

  “Is it that obvious?” she asked in a resigned voice.

  Eden pointedly looked at Evie’s right knee. Evie glanced down and winced to see it jiggling up and down like mad, rather like a puppet on a string. She clamped her knees together to stop.

  “Don’t let Mamma see that,” Eden said. “She’ll make you wrap a scarf around your legs.”

  That thought made Evie’s dinner—what little she’d managed to force down—churn in her stomach. As a child, she’d had a terrible habit of jiggling her leg when nervous. When she hadn’t been able to lecture Evie out of it, Mamma had finally resorted to tying a woollen scarf around her knees, under her dress. Since Mamma had embarked on this corrective course in the middle of August, it had proven beastly hot and dreadfully unpleasant. Evie had shed more than a few tears over it but she had to admit it worked. Within two weeks the habit was broken, rarely to return.

  Only when Evie was truly rattled.

  “Perhaps I can persuade her to use a silk scarf this time,” she said in a half-hearted jest.

  “I’m joking, darling,” Eden said. “Mamma isn’t going to do anything so horrible, but she will lecture, which is never fun.”

  Eden cast a swift glance around to make sure no one was listening. Fortunately, the other ladies—eight in all—had clustered around Mamma at the other end of the room. It was a small party tonight, mostly family friends who knew each other well. They happily chattered away, accepting cups of tea and drifting to seats in the luxuriously appointed room freshly hung with wallpaper in a Bloomsbury Square pattern. Mamma had been most eager to show off her redesign of the room, thankfully leaving the twins to fend for themselves until the men joined them.

  “You know,” Eden said in a conspiratorial voice, “if you want to stay out of trouble, just spend the rest of the night talking to Wolf. For some reason, Mamma has taken a real shine to him since he’s returned home.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with Will and everything to do with Michael. She’s no doubt hoping I’ll transfer my affections.” Evie scoffed. “As if I’d be so disloyal to poor Michael.”

  Eden’s eyebrows went up in a comical tilt. “Far be it from me to criticize, but you’ve been doing a rather good job of ignoring poor Michael so far.”

  Evie couldn’t help starching up. “I haven’t been ignoring him. Good Lord, Mamma hasn’t let me near Michael all evening. Before dinner, she had Lady Montrose monopolize him, and then she placed him at the other end of the table and Will right next to me. I had to speak with my dinner partner, of course, particularly since he’s an old friend.”

  “But you didn’t have to moon at him, now did you?”

  Evie gaped at her sister, scandalized. “I was doing no such thing! Was I?”

  “Well, yes, you were, if you want me to be honest about it. Not that I blame you,” Eden said. “Wolf is frightfully good-looking and has a smashing set of shoulders.”

  “Not quite as smashing as Captain Gilbride’s, as you have apparently noticed,” Evie responded in a tart voice.

  Her twin batted that comment away with the flick of her wrist. “I’d have to be blind not to notice that, but it’s rather like admiring a prime piece of horseflesh. I enjoy looking, but I’m not necessarily inclined to ride him.”

  “I cannot believe you just said that.” Evie was torn between horror and laughter. “If Mamma heard you say something so risqué, she’d lock you in your room for a week.”

  “I’d never say it to her, now would I? But back to Wolf—”

  Evie held up a restraining hand. “I don’t want to discuss him. He’s simply an old friend, and that’s the end of it.”

  “You are such a pitiful liar, darling. Ever since your little outing with him the other day, you’ve been fluttering around the house like a schoolgirl with a crush on a handsome officer. It’s like something out of a bad novel. You’d better watch yourself, Evie, or you’ll find yourself in a spot of trouble.”

  “You make having an ice at Gunter’s sound like a lewd encounter in the shrubberies at Vauxhall Gardens, when of course it was nothing of the sort. The primary purpose of the outing was not enjoyment, as you well know. Will wanted to see St. Margaret’s, and that’s where we spent most of our time.”

  The corner of Eden’s mouth turned down in a skeptical twist. “Ah, yes. Wolf was acting as an agent for Captain Gilbride, who has suddenly developed a great interest in the deserving poor. I’m telling you, Evie, I don’t trust that oversized Scotsman. He seems the least likely philanthropist I can imagine, and I don’t believe for a minute that he gives a hoot about St. Margaret’s or the unfortunates you help.”

  Evie shook her head. “That’s hardly fair. We know little about Captain Gilbride’s charitable leanings, and there’s no reason not to take him at his words. Goodness, why would he spend so much time with Michael if he didn’t truly want to help?”

  “I can think of one good reason.”

  “And that is?”

  “He’s diverting Michael’s attention away from you in order to give Wolf a clear opening.”

  Evie stared at her sister. Although her mind instantly rejected that conclusion, her ill-mannered heart apparently wanted to mull it over. There could be no other explanation for why it started to pound like a drum.

/>   She had to swallow a few times before she could answer. “That’s ridiculous. Will has no interest in me other than as a friend.”

  Eden adopted an expression of pity. “Keep on telling yourself that, if it helps.”

  Evie, in fact, had every intention of continuing to tell herself just that, even though she’d spent the last few days grappling with the notion that Will did appear to be, well, almost courting her. Though apparently genuinely interested in her work, his manner at Gunter’s and in the carriage afterward had seemed exactly what her sister was suggesting—flirtatious. Will had never flirted with her before, not even when they were younger. He wasn’t the sort of person to engage in that sort of thing. Not with her, and not with any other girl, as far as she could remember.

  But that was a long time ago when he was little more than a boy. Now, as Evie was painfully aware, he was a man.

  She’d started to halfheartedly argue with her sister when the door to the drawing room opened and the men followed Papa into the room. The women revived like flowers that had just received a refreshing mist of water, and some of the younger ones did everything they could to attract Will’s and Gilbride’s attentions. Evie certainly couldn’t blame them, because they were by far the handsomest men in the room.

  Probably the handsomest men in London. Especially Will, and how unfair was that?

  “Don’t look now,” Eden murmured, “but here comes Michael. Oh, and how surprising, Gilbride is in hot pursuit.”

  Evie fixed a smile on her face as Michael and Captain Gilbride joined them. It was not an easy task when one was clenching one’s teeth.

  “Evelyn, is this seat taken?” Michael’s tone suggested he wasn’t quite sure of his welcome. He nodded at the empty cushion next to her on the chaise.

  “I was saving it for you,” she exclaimed, patting the seat. A lie, but surely only a little white one. “Please join us. I’ve barely been able to exchange two words with you all evening.”

  He pulled the tails of his evening coat aside and sat down. “You’ve been much engaged,” he said with a casual and rather false laugh. “I did not want to intrude.”