Once a Courtesan (Once Wicked Book 2)

by Liana Lefey

“Excellent. I’ll send to Mrs. Hayton and let her know I’ll be staying here tonight and coming for my things tomorrow. I informed her of the night’s events and assured her it was being addressed with all due haste. She urged me to convey to you her concern.”

  Outside in the courtyard, the bell rang.

  “Thank you,” said Jacqueline, rising. “I shall write to her today and add my reassurance in the hope of allaying her fears.” She looked down at his empty plate. “Remain and break your fast, monsieur. I can tell one of the older students to start your lesson.”

  Grateful, he nodded acceptance just as Agnes came out bearing a tray. The woman’s eyes were bloodshot, and he knew she’d gone without sleep. “Thank you,” he murmured as she set a bowl of steaming porridge in front of him.

  A weary smile lifted her plump cheeks as she poured tea. “After what you did for all of us last night, it’s my pleasure, sir.” She bustled off, humming under her breath.

  Anyone coming in that day would’ve thought it was business as usual. But Will saw the nervous glances toward the windows, saw the way the girls flinched every time there was a noise from that direction. A note found in his top desk drawer, written in Jacqueline’s hand, informed him that MacCallum hadn’t been told about recent events. Work would go on uninterrupted for the time being. She went on to say she’d informed Mrs. Sloane about the anticipated event two days hence, and that preparations would be made accordingly.

  Under the guise of adding a scoop of fresh coal to the grate, he tossed the note into the fire and watched it turn to ash. Time seemed to slow, each minute passing at a snail’s pace.

  It was a quarter past one when Mrs. Sloane poked her head around the door. “Mr. Woodson? I’m sorry to disturb you—an urgent message has just arrived addressed to you.”

  Looking to the girls, he marked how still and quiet they’d become. “I’ll be just a moment,” he told them, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

  “Here it is,” said Mrs. Sloane, holding out a letter. “The man who brought it—a Mr. Bartleby—said he came from Mrs. Hayton’s and was told by the man who delivered this to tell you to read it immediately.”

  Will was already breaking the seal. A cold sensation spread across his skin as he scanned the spidery lines.

  Mr. Woodson,

  Regarding the incident to which you referred, the man you spoke with, Coombs, is not employed by the magistrate of this district and is unfamiliar to me. As such, I received no report of any disturbance at the address you provided. I suspect this Coombs was an impostor. Please reply to this message with his description so that I may caution my men to have an eye out for him.

  We are aware of the suspicious activity along Dover Street and request that you convey to your fellow residents at Number 16 our assurances that we are doing everything possible to ensure their safety.

  I thank you for your information and await your prompt reply.

  With Respect,

  Edward Deering,

  Chief Constable, Piccadilly

  P.S. Birdsley sent a message this morning informing us he was ill. In light of the circumstances, I am sending someone to his house to be certain he has not run afoul of trouble.

  “I suspected as much,” he said, biting back a curse. He handed Mrs. Sloane the letter and watched her eyes widen as she read. “I must speak with the headmistress at once. Will you watch my class? I shan’t be long.”

  “Of course, sir,” she replied, handing him back the letter. “She was going to her office when I passed her on the way to answer the door,” she added as he strode away.

  Taking the steps to the second floor two at a time, he didn’t bother knocking before he entered. “I was right. Coombs was not who he said he was.”

  She half stood, her face paling. “What do you mean?”

  “He did everything correctly,” he said, handing her the letter. “I watched him. He knew exactly what to do to be convincing. But his behavior was odd as I was leading him back to the front door. He kept looking about the place as if searching for something. At first, I thought it was just me being overly suspicious. Now I know better.”

  Glancing up from the paper in her hands, she fixed him with sharp eyes. “You think he was working for Boucher?”

  “It’s the only plausible explanation. Someone cut that chain and set up that nasty scene knowing you would call on your neighborhood constable—”

  “So they had Coombs take his place as a means of getting inside. Mon Dieu—what of Monsieur Birdsley?”

  “It may be that he’s ill.” He nodded at the letter, urging her to read on. “Remember, Coombs said he and the night watchman on duty last night met Mr. Young on his way to fetch Birdsley. If we ask your man, I’m willing to wager the watchman was a new face, as well.”

  Her eyes were shadowed with worry. “I’m concerned for Monsieur Birdsley. For two years now, he has stopped by every day to inquire of Mrs. Sloane after our well-being. It surprises me that she made no mention of his absence.”

  “A lot happened yesterday. We were all a bit distracted.”

  “Will they let you know if anything has happened to him?”

  “I’ll ask that they do so,” he said, taking back the letter. “But I must send a description of Coombs to Deering at once. May I borrow your writing table?”

  “Of course.”

  “Deering has a good reputation,” he said, desperate to fill the silence as she fetched a lap desk and implements for him. “You may be certain he’ll follow up on this. I’ll be surprised if he does not come to speak with you at some point today.” Gritting his teeth, he made himself say it. “If he does, I would appreciate it if you did not mention me. I’ve never worked directly with him, but I know several of his men—Geoff Birdsley being one of them.”

  A single dark brow arched. “I wondered what prompted your sudden confession.”

  “Now you know,” he answered, the blood rushing to his face. “I’m as anxious as you to know if Geoff is well. He’s a good man.”

  “He is indeed.” Her gentle smile was enough to make him momentarily forget how to breathe. “Mrs. Sloane knows he will never marry, but that does not prevent her hoping he might change his mind.”

  “She’s not the only one,” he replied, chuckling as he opened the inkwell. “Miss Flanagan has quite a liking for the gentleman.”

  “Yes, I know. Long ago—before her marriage—Mrs. Hayton did, too. Though he liked her well enough, he did not return her stronger sentiments. His best friend eventually managed to change her heart’s allegiance. Mr. Birdsley stood as witness at their wedding. When Mr. Hayton died a few years later, Mr. Birdsley took it upon himself to look after her on his behalf. They are good friends.”

  “So that’s how she knows so much about him.”

  She nodded.

  Silence fell, and for a while the only sound was the scratch of nib against parchment. There was, blessedly, no discomfort in the quiet between them now. Again, Will thanked Providence for having forced him to tell her the truth.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Every nerve in Jacqueline’s body was attuned to the man sitting in her office. He dominated the small space without making her feel trapped, and she again marveled at how tolerant she’d become of a man’s presence.

  The events of last night, as well as her personal qualms about him, ought to have kept her awake till dawn, yet she’d fallen asleep almost the second her head touched the pillow. In truth, having seen the way he handled both the menacing message and their stealthy observer had boosted her confidence in his story. Still, for the sake of due diligence, she must verify it.

  Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly time to leave. “Forgive me, but I told Mrs. Sloane to have Dominique ready to depart for our visit with Lady Montgomery by two. I must go and prepare.”

  He leveled a hard stare at her. “I told you last night I’d accompany you.”

  “You cannot,” she replied firmly. “Lady Montgomer
y does not know you, and it would be awkward to make introductions without explaining why you came with me. Don’t worry—I shall be armed, as I always am whenever I leave the premises.”

  “You always take a pistol with you?”

  “Always,” she confirmed, rising. “I will ask Mr. Young about the night watchman. The office downstairs has been made ready, if you would like to send for your things.”

  “If someone can take over my classes for the remainder of the day, I’ll go and arrange to have them brought over.”

  “Agreed. I shall see to it on my way out.” She made to walk around him, but his gentle touch on her elbow stopped her.

  “Be careful,” he whispered.

  The look of tender concern in his dark eyes was nearly her undoing. “I will,” she answered, her throat tight and her voice thick. Turning, she put him behind her and forced her legs to carry her away before she did something foolish.

  In her chamber, she had Henriette help her change into a suitable gown and touch up her chignon. The girl’s eyes still widened every time Jacqueline took out her pistols.

  The special, shortened muzzles were no good for hitting anything far away, but they were excellent for close-range targets, and their size was more suited for a lady. Checking to be sure all was in order with them, she slipped one into a pocket and the other into her reticule, hoping she’d need neither.

  Dominique was waiting at the exit to the carriage house. “Do you think it safe?” she asked as Jacqueline took out her keys to unlock the door.

  She offered the girl what she hoped was a confident smile. “An attack in broad daylight on a moving carriage in the middle of London is unlikely, my dear.”

  But as they boarded the carriage a few minutes later, Jacqueline wasn’t so sure. She’d asked Mr. Young about the night watchman with Coombs, and his answer disturbed her. The watchman, while not unknown to Young, had been making the rounds in their neighborhood for only a month. It was he who’d introduced Coombs as Birdsley’s temporary replacement.

  She wondered just how far Boucher had infiltrated local society around the school. Again, she found herself comforted by the knowledge that Will would be there tonight. At least wait until confirmation is received! Scolding herself, however, proved ineffective. Her heart was shouting over her head. Emotion was slowly winning the battle against reason. I’m falling in love with him.

  The thought was enough to induce panic. She looked out at the passing scenery and tried to calm herself. How foolish was she to allow herself to fall in love with a man she hardly knew?

  But her heart argued that she did know him. She knew the sort of man he was. Honorable, kind, noble of spirit, and willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Tavistoke would confirm her gut feelings about him, she was sure.

  It would be so much better if Will didn’t reciprocate her liking for him. She admired him, and he admired her. She desired him, and she knew he desired her. Yet such sentiments were doomed to end only in tragedy and disappointment.

  For just a moment, however, Jacqueline allowed herself to dream. She pictured herself held tenderly in his arms, resting against his strength.

  I’m so tired of being strong. Was it so wrong to want a respite? To want to lean on someone else for support?

  The images in her mind took a different turn then, and she pictured herself melting into a kiss. What would it be like to kiss a man again? One who didn’t want to hurt her?

  Beside her, Dominique blew her nose.

  Mortification filled Jacqueline. She had no business imagining kisses with anyone. She ought to be paying attention to her immediate surroundings in case of danger.

  When they arrived at the Montgomerys’ home unscathed, it was a relief. Ushered into a salon to await their hostess, she felt a little ridiculous wondering if any of the familiar faces she’d known now for more than three years hid a traitor behind them. But Will’s words wouldn’t allow her to let down her guard.

  “I’m so glad you were able to come,” said Sabrina as she swept in. They’d agreed years ago that if anything untoward should happen at the school, Jacqueline was to come to her home and act as though expected. “Is this the girl you told me of?”

  “Yes. Lady Montgomery, this is Dominique.”

  They kept up this sort of chatter until the servants left the room, closing the door behind them as their mistress bade.

  “What is it?” Sabrina whispered at once. “What has happened?”

  “Dominique, please go and stand by the door,” Jacqueline murmured. “Make sure no one is listening.”

  “Yes, madame.” The girl obeyed, opening the door a tiny crack, just enough to see if anyone was there.

  Jacqueline waited for her nod, and then in a hushed voice relayed the disturbing events of the night prior as well as her warning for Tavistoke.

  “Good heavens,” gasped Sabrina, her green eyes wide. “Henry and I are to see him this evening at the Durants’ party. Will that be soon enough to deliver your message, or should I make some excuse and send for him at once?”

  “No, don’t deviate from your current plans,” Jacqueline cautioned. “It might raise suspicion. It’s a safe wager anyone with whom I regularly associate is being watched.”

  Her friend’s face paled a shade. “Understood. He and his family will be traveling to the Whitmores’ country estate this Friday with us. We’ll be away for the better part of a week.”

  “Good. Be careful and have an eye out during the journey. You should also be prepared in the event Boucher mistakenly believes your husband to be the Archangel.” Guilt weighed heavily on her heart. “Your close association with me has placed your family in danger.”

  All remaining color bled from Sabrina’s cheeks, but she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance. “I’m honored by your friendship, and come what may, I’ll stand beside you. Henry and my mother feel likewise, I can assure you. I shall tell Henry to make preparations—quietly—and relay a warning to my mother. She’ll have the children while we’re away.”

  The knot in Jacqueline’s stomach drew tighter as she thought of the possible peril to those who’d pried her from death’s cold grasp. “There is one thing more I would discuss with you in private.” Lowering her voice so that Dominique, who still stood guard by the door, couldn’t make out what was said, she told her about Will. “I must know if I can trust him.”

  “I agree,” breathed Sabrina. “If all is as you say, however, the less Tavistoke is involved, the better. I’ll have Henry look into it and send a coded message with Bernard as soon as I hear anything.” The countess then bent her fiery head to confirm in the barest whisper the exact message to be given to Tavistoke.

  Jacqueline never failed to be impressed by Sabrina, whose recitation was without error. Turning to Dominique, she beckoned her to rejoin them. Just in time, too, for not a minute later a servant came in bearing a fresh pot of tea.

  The next half hour was spent engaged in talk concerning progress on the school’s expansion and the anticipated increase in material needs. Everything from bedding to crockery and nightgowns was discussed.

  “I’ll see if I cannot manage another two dozen quilts from my ladies’ sewing circle,” said Sabrina. “Little girls—and young ladies,” she added with a smile at Dominique, “should have something pretty and bright to greet them at bedtime.”

  “Thank you for your continued kindness,” Jacqueline said with heartfelt gratitude. The Montgomerys’ generosity to the school was no facade. Glancing at the clock, she drew the conversation to a close. “We cannot stay long today. I promised Monsieur MacCallum I would review the plans for the third floor before the work begins. You’ll let me know about the position?”

  Nodding understanding, their hostess rose to show them out. “I shall send word the very moment I receive a response.”

  As the carriage rolled down London’s rainy streets, Jacqueline reviewed every detail of the visit. The servant waiting on them hadn’t seemed pa
rticularly interested in anything they’d discussed in her presence. Still, it was better to have taken precautions.

  She didn’t relax until she was home. Outside in the courtyard, a bell signified the call to dinner. Her stomach growled. Just in time. Remembering her promise to let Will know about Mr. Young’s account of the encounter with the night watchman and Coombs, however, she went at once to seek him out.

  He met her just as she reached the staircase. Behind him, girls had begun to make their descent to go to dinner. “I must speak with you in private at once,” was all he whispered before taking her arm and leading her back the way she’d come.

  Again, she was struck by how his touch seemed to put her all awry. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to concentrate on the delightful smells drifting from the dining hall. Her mouth watered at the thought of the good, hot meal awaiting her. It would have to wait.

  With the children out of classes, there was no privacy to be had save behind a closed door. He led her into the foyer and then into the room she’d had readied for him. The student files had all been transferred to her office, the desk replaced with a bed, and the space had been made more comfortable with the addition of an armchair, a small table borrowed from another room, and a reading lamp.

  Though he’d not yet slept in the bed, the sight of it nevertheless brought a flush to her cheeks. She flinched as the door shut behind them, and mentally scolded herself for being a ninny. Gathering her dignity, she met his eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but was beaten to the mark.

  “Well, we’ve no longer any need to confirm your Sally is a spy. I found a shuttered lamp, as well as this, hidden in her room.” Jamming a hand into his coat pocket, he retrieved a bit of parchment and held it out. “Apologies for the poor quality of the writing; my graphite was dull, and I was in a rush.”

  Taking the paper, she saw several scrawled lines of what looked like gibberish and dots.

  “It’s a code,” he went on, his voice brittle. “Unfortunately, I’ve no way of knowing what information she’s shared. This does not bode well. To have enemies outside is one thing, but to also have them within…”