"If we don't hurry, we'll never find a place. Neither one of us is big enough to see over the heads )f the crowd." Meg grinned at Lena. "And you don't want to do this."
"Of course I don't want to miss it. When will we it another chance to see the Queen, if only as she passes by in her coach?" Lena's eyes hardened as they took in the circles beneath her sister's eyes. "Perhaps tonight at the ball."
"Perhaps. But her appearance tonight isn't definite." She paused. "What is the matter with you, lately? Ever since you returned from Nanna's you've been in a funk." "I have not."
"You have." Lena's gaze moved over her sister, noticing that the blue satin dress fit less tightly than it had a week ago. "You're losing weight; you almost never eat. You never willingly go anywhere without my nagging. If it were up to you, you'd spend all day locked in this room." Lena shook her head. "You're acting like you're hiding from someone."
"Don't be ridiculous," Meg said even as her heart beat faster, for that was exactly what she was doing.
It had been two weeks since she'd left her Gypsy relatives. She dared not stay, lest the man somehow return and her people suffer for her foolish actions. But upon returning to her lodgings, she realized she was no safer here. Who could tell where the man was? Even now he could be searching the streets of London for her. Meg didn't deny her fear. There was no telling what he might do once he found her.
"If you keep this up, Father will take you to the apothecary. And you know what that means."
Both women shivered their disgust, for it was a well-known fact that most physicians believed a good dose of mineral oil would cure anything that ailed.
John Fairmont waited impatiently for his daughters at the bottom of the wide stairway. Beside him stood Edward Whitehall, the son of his business partner and third cousin. Edward had graciously offered to escort James and his two daughters to the procession. Later that evening they were all exacted at the Whitehalls for the most elaborate ball all of London.
It was rumored that the young Queen might, if time permitted, grace the Whitehalls with an appearance tonight. It was not an absolute certainty, for many balls were scheduled in her honor. Still, the women and most of the men were aflutter about the distinct possibility. Whether or not Victoria found the opportunity to join them, the ball was sure to be the most exciting the Fairmonts' had ever attended.
Edward hadn't as yet met Meg, but he had made sure to be in attendance, to his mother's absolute delight, the last two times Lena and John Fairmont had been invited to his parents' home.
Lena was, to his way of thinking, the loveliest woman he'd ever met. He'd known her a little over weeks now and during that time he'd made sure to be invited to every affair the young woman attended. He'd seen her at least ten times during last fourteen days, and every morning, upon awakening, he looked forward to seeing her again.
She was sweet, shy, and gentle, and the more he saw of her, the closer he was coming to realize it might be time for him to put aside the nonsenses of bachelorhood and think seriously about taking a wife.
Oddly enough, although he couldn't say why, she reminded him of someone. Even though he'd racked his brain for days, he'd be damned if he could remember whom.
Edward smiled as he listened to the soft sounds of feminine chatter. The ladies were coming. Edward straightened his shoulders and tugged on the snowy cuffs of his shirt. It never hurt to look one's best, especially when there was a lady he was trying to impress.
Halfway down the stairs, Lena's eyes met with Edward's, and she offered him her prettiest smile. "You didn't tell us we were having company, Father," she said.
Her parent stood patiently waiting for his daughters to descend the steps. John Fairmont was an attractive man. In his middle forties, his raven black hair was just beginning to gray at the temples. The sorrowful loss of his wife a year ago had etched deep lines into a face so handsome few could equal it. He wasn't tall, for he measured in height only a few inches more than his daughters. Nevertheless, the man was imposing in his strength. One intimidating look from eyes as black as night was often enough to cause a business associate to see his way of thinking. He was a hard man but fair in his dealings with both outsiders and family.
Edward, his eyes on the lovely Lena, reached for her hand, while Fairmont extended his to his eldest daughter.
Meg's eyes widened with shock as she took in the man standing beside her father. The room swayed dizzily and she grew deathly pale, frozen in place. The jig was up. There was no longer any reason to hide. She was found out. All she could do was pray her father wouldn't disown her for the terrible things she'd done.
Meg stood with her back stiff, awaiting the man's acknowledgment and the denouncement that was sure to follow. Her heart thundered with fear. Still, Meg was no coward. She had acted in a most unseemly manner, and she was ready to take the penalty for her outrageous misdeeds.
"Meg, dear, this is Mr. Whitehall," John Fairmont said. "I believe you've already met both his parents. Edward," he said, "my daughter Margaret."
Meg nodded. She and Lena had been to tea at the Whitehalls within a few days of arriving in England, and she remembered his parents well. "Mr. Whitehall," Meg said in her most cultured voice. "I'm so happy to meet you."
"Miss Fairmont," Edward said as he finally tore his rapturous gaze from Lena's smile. "It's . . . it's . . ."
The man had forgotten what he'd been about to say. His eyes almost bulged from their sockets as Meg simply smiled and then blinked as if curious to know why. She had no alternative but to brave this out or fall to her knees and beg his pity.
"Have we met before?" His voice was almost a croak.
. "I don't think so." She smiled again. That was the truth at least. She'd seen him with that horrid Tristan Hall, but they'd never been introduced.
"You remind me of someone," he said, knowing he sounded ridiculous.
Lena laughed and then flirted ever so gently, "Oh, you mustn't, Edward. You've been saying that to me almost since the first day we met. I forbid you to tease my sister."
"I wouldn't think of it, Lena."
The man recovered himself almost instantly. Meg was quite impressed. He'd suffered a shock, she had no doubt. Truthfully, she wouldn't have blamed him if he'd blurted out the entire unseemly episode. Surely his friend had told him what had happened to him at the Gypsy camp. Edward must have seen the bruises. And Meg was sure that after her cousins had finished with him, Tristan Hall had suffered many.
Meg looked from her sister to the man who stood towering over her, and with some surprise realized the tender smile that passed between them. So, they were on first-name basis already. She'd imagined her sister appeared happier than usual of late. Could it be that Lena was interested in Mr. Edward Whitehall? Meg wanted to see her sister happy, but were it up to her, she would have chosen another for Lena. Not only because he was a friend of that beast Hall, but because if Lena fell in love with this man, she'd more than likely be staying in England.
Meg suddenly realized how terribly alone she'd be without her sister for a friend. Who was going to nag her? Who would complain if she sat up and read all night? Who would worry about the condition of her eyes or watch that she ate her vegetables or complain because she hated to get up early or race their horses through the woods?
Meg felt the loss already and knew just by the way these two looked at one another that her sister was ready to leave all else behind and give her heart to this man.
The streets of London buzzed with excitement. Everyone who had celebrated the week before the coronation and then some stood packed twenty deep, leaving only a narrow space for the coach which would bring their new Queen from the coronation ceremonies back to Buckingham Palace.
Thanks to the efforts of her father and Edward, Meg and Lena had a clear view. The coach would be passing soon, and both girls would get their first glimpse of the young Queen. With any luck, they'd see her again tonight.
The soldiers came first. Mounted on horseback in
straight military lines, dressed in their red uniforms with shining black boots and helmets, they were an imposing sight. Drums beat a steady rhythm, building tension as the crowd grew more excited.
Meg hadn't ever seen anything quite so extravagant as' the gold coach that carried the young Queen. The dark-haired woman inside looked lost, small, and terribly young as she waved to a crowd who'd by now had grown nearly hysterical in their exuberance.
The Queen's coach had turned into the tall gates of the palace when the crowd rushed to catch still another glimpse. Meg and Lena were caught in the almost frenzied onrush of humanity. They became momentarily separated. Meg felt Mr. Whitehall's hand on her arm as he attempted to protect her from the crush. Over her head his gaze searched for Lena. He breathed a sigh of relief to find her safely with her father.
This was her chance. It took her a moment to summon the courage, for Meg was loath to bring up the subject. Still, she knew she must. If she were too cowardly to take the opportunity offered, disaster would surely ensue. "Mr. Whitehall, I've been wondering if I might beg a favor of you."
"Anything, Miss Fairmont."
Meg knew she had only half his attention, for his gaze kept moving over her head, obviously toward her sister. Still, she went on, "There's a man I know." Meg bit at her lip and lowered her eyes as a lovely flush covered her cheeks.
"Yes?" Edward asked, his gray eyes holding a touch of humor as he looked to the lady at his side.
"I know you'll think my request an odd one to say the least, but I'd be pleased if he weren't told where he could find me."
Edward took in the nervous glitter in her eyes and the way she bit at her lower lip. He wondered how she'd react if he told her Tristan's condition. What would she say if she knew how he drank himself into oblivion nearly every night only to leave his ship at the crack of dawn to prowl the outskirts of London searching for his Gypsy lady. "But suppose this man has been turning London upside down in his search? Suppose he desperately wants to see you again?"
"Mr. Whitehall, I've only two weeks left in London. What purpose would it solve if he discovered my true identity?"
Edward, after giving her petition some thought, nodded. "Your identity is safe with me, Miss Fairmont. You have my word on it."
Edward grinned as an hour later he left the ladies and their father at their front door and hailed a cab. He had a stop to make before he went home to ready himself for tonight's festivities. Edward leaned back and gave a lusty sigh of relief. Tristan was going to owe him for this. He smiled as he remembered the lady's sweet entreaty. He hadn't the least intention of breaking his word. All he was going to do was make sure his friend did not ignore the invitation he'd been given more than a week ago.
"No, damn it! I've got better things to do with my time." Tristan looked at his glass, vaguely surprised to find it empty, and walked to his desk. "You know I can't stand the crowd your mother drags to her parties." He shrugged. "I can't stand parties to begin with."
"Right. You'd rather sit here and drink yourself to death."
Tristan shot his friend an evil look and then tipped the bottle of rum, watching the amber liquid fill up his glass. "Are you going to preach to me now? You, of all people?"
"I've reformed."
"Jesus," he groaned, "spare me from the converted sinner." Tristan grinned as he sat on his desk and raised the nearly full glass to his lips. "In what ways have you reformed? Have you given up your actress friends?"
Edward nodded. He hadn't seen either of them since the night Tristan's ship had docked. "I've found a woman more interesting."
"And your drinking? Have you given that up as well?"
Edward shrugged. He hadn't given up drinking, but he hadn't gotten drunk in weeks. "I don't need it when I'm with her."
"Good God!" Tristan groaned as his eyes rolled to the cabin's ceiling. "Don't tell me you're in love."
"I don't know for sure, but I think I might be."
Tristan sighed with disgust. "You'd better get out of here, Edward. I'm a bad influence on your new found saintly ways."
Edward smiled. "There's a woman coming to the party tonight. I think you should meet her."
Tristan shot him a stony look. "I'm not interested."
"If you saw her, I guarantee you'd be interested."
"Will you leave me alone?" Tristan almost whined as he shoved his fingers through his hair.
"Do you realize what you're doing? You've given up living. Just because you can't find one woman, you've become a recluse who drinks himself to sleep every night. Is she worth a hangover every morning?"
"Shut up."
Edward ignored him. "You're a fool. No woman is that important. What the hell happened to the Tristan Hall I used to know?"
"He wouldn't go to parties either."
"Right, but he wouldn't waste his time mooning over some wench. Look, man, you're due to sail in a day or so. Why not have one last night to remember? What the hell have you got to lose?
"I swear, if you don't like the woman I want you to meet, I'll take you myself to those actresses. If they can't get the Gypsy out of your blood, nothing can."
Tristan looked at his friend for a long moment. Edward was right. No woman was worth this. What the hell was the matter with him? How had he fallen so low? His lips thinned in anger as he realized he had no one to blame but himself. His eyes were black with fury as he thought over the last two weeks and how he'd wasted every day searching for a woman that wasn't worth a minute of his time. He nodded his head. "What time?"
Edward breathed a sigh of relief. If that hadn't worked, he didn't know what he would have done. He'd sworn to honor Meg's request, and he wasn't about to break his word, but he couldn't think of another way to get this thick-headed friend of his to the party tonight.
"Nine." Edward reached into his vest pocket for his timepiece. "You have three hours to get ready, and by the looks of you, you'll need them all."
Tristan stood up and rubbed the black stubble on his chin. For the first time in weeks he actually smiled. It felt good. "Then I'd better get started."
"Have you seen this article?" John Fairmont asked his daughters as they sat awaiting the arrival of the coach that would carry them to the White-halls'. "A maniac is running amuck, loose in London. He's already killed six boys. Killed them after he's done unspeakable things to them."
Lena shivered.
Meg leaned over her father's shoulder and glanced at the London Times. She'd read the same article earlier. "I don't think we have anything to fear, Father. It seems the man kills only children."
John sent his daughter a hard look. "I don't want either of you out without someone to protect you. Is that clear?"
"But-"
"And that means the trip you have in mind to visit Nanna tomorrow is off."
"I'm perfectly safe there."
"But not when coming and going."
"Perhaps not going. But Nicoli or Anton would bring me back."
"You won't be going again. Not anytime soon. I have pressing business all this week and you won't go without me."
"But-"
"You heard me, Margaret. I want no arguments from you."
Meg knew her father meant business. He never called her Margaret unless he was upset about something. She would never openly defy him, no matter that she was a woman grown. She respected him too much to do that. But Meg had long ago found ways of convincing her father to see her way. And she was positive she could do as much now. She'd find someone to take her. Edward! No, she decided, that wouldn't do at all. He might slip and tell that horrible fiend where she was. No, she'd have to figure another way to get to the camp. A way that would satisfy both her and her father.
"Where the hell is she?"
"She'll be here soon."
Tristan shot his friend a dark look of doubt.
"I swear it." Edward smiled and prayed he was right, for Tristan had that caged look about him, and he doubted the man would stay around another quarter of an hour.
Tristan's gaze moved over the crowd that filled the Whitehall mansion. At least two hundred people stood in attendance. And stood was the appropriate word, for there was no longer room left to move. Right now the crowd occupied every available and not so available space. He couldn't envision the walls of this house accepting another body. With some disgust, Tristan nursed a glass of lemonade as he waited. "She'd better be."
Edward's eyes sparkled with hidden fire. "You're going to owe me for this one, friend, I promise you."
Tristan grinned. "If she's half of what you say, I'll be forever in your debt."
Tristan's gaze moved over three people newly arrived. His eyes halted and then backed up. "Jesus!" Tristan suddenly stiffened. "What the hell is she
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doing here?" he muttered, never knowing he said the words aloud. Where did she find those clothes? Who did she steal them from?
. God damn it! Didn't she realize what kind of trouble she could get herself in? Was it her intent to pick these people clean of their personal belongings? He wouldn't put it past her. After the trickery she'd shown herself capable of, he wouldn't put anything past this one.
Only she wasn't going to get the chance. Tristan had no doubt she'd be caught, her hand still in the first pocket she tried to pick, and he instantly took [It upon himself to see to it that her life of crime would end tonight.
Meg didn't notice the man who stared at her from halfway across the room. "Good Lord, but it's hot in here," she said to her father. "Let's stand close to the windows, please."
Her father nodded and guided both his daughters through the crowd to stand by opened French doors. It was a bit more comfortable there.
Edward was almost instantly at their side.
Lena smiled at the man before her. "We're late. Our carriage lost a wheel two blocks from here, and we had to walk the rest of the way."
"Are you all right?" Edward had the sense to drag his eyes from the woman before him when he asked that question. His gaze encompassed her entire family.
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