A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  There was a sudden flash of red skirts and a solid bump. Trudy had the impression of dark hair and flashing obsidian eyes. A gypsy?

  Collingwood looked as if he suspected he’d just had his pocket picked. He seized the girl’s shoulder to keep her from escaping.

  She whirled and faced him with a defiant tilt of her head, then noted Trudy beside him. “Luludja!”

  “Simza? Heavens! What are you doing here, of all places?” She hadn’t seen her childhood friend for years.

  “Telling fortunes. Papa and Roman are here, too. Somewhere. We were invited by Lady Ellison. She is paying us directly.” Then, without warning, she took Dare’s hand and turned it palm-up.

  “Ooo,” she said, her dark eyes widening. “Now this is very interesting. Very strong. Brace y’self for changes, your lordship. They’re coming quickly. You won’t hardly know y’self afterward.”

  He frowned and started to pull away, but she held his hand tight, seeming engrossed in what she saw in his palm.

  “Changes you never anticipated. Or wanted. And danger. Someone’s going to want you dead.” She looked up at him and dropped his hand. “Have a care, your lordship. And look out for those around you. Someone’s going to betray you. Someone’s going to die. Watch it ain’t you.”

  Collingwood blinked and shot Trudy a quick glance. “See here—”

  “Sorry, but Papa is waiting for me. I will try to find you before we leave London.”

  She backed away, but Trudy caught her arm. “Did you—”

  “Of course not! He is with you.” Simza was gone with a laugh and a quick wave, disappearing into the crowds.

  Collingwood watched her go and shook his head in disbelief. “Lady Ellison has paid gypsies to tell fortunes here?”

  “So it would seem. I think it was a very good idea. What would a carnival or fair be without gypsy fortune tellers? And Simza is very good. I’ve never known her to be wrong.”

  “Quite generous of your friend to dress the part.”

  “Oh, she was not dressing the part. She is a real gypsy.”

  He frowned in what she supposed was disapproval. “You know gypsies? Why does that not surprise me?”

  “Father allowed Simza’s people to camp on the farm during summers for many years. We became friends.”

  “Luludja?”

  “It means ‘flower of life.’ Simza’s people gave me the name.”

  “You grew up with them?”

  “For two or three months in the summers when I was younger. I’ve not seen Simza for years now.”

  “And your parents allowed this?”

  He seemed so outraged that she laughed. “I think they did not know how much time we spent in the gypsy camp.”

  He looked thoughtful as they strolled along, but Trudy was oblivious to all but his hand resting over hers on his arm. And then she thought of Lancelot again, and wondered if she was a traitor to him—consorting with his enemy.

  “Collingwood!”

  They turned, though Trudy already knew the voice and a vague feeling of relief.

  Collingwood smiled, no doubt relieved to be rid of her. “Mr. Carr. How are you, sir?”

  “Well, thank you. And thank you, too, for looking after my wayward daughter.”

  Wayward. Collingwood looked down at her and smiled as if his opinion had been confirmed. She sighed, knowing he would think worse of her than that if he knew what she planned to do next. She released his arm and stepped back.

  Fiona slipped her arm through Trudy’s and smiled as she led Trudy ahead of their father and Collingwood. “So? You must tell! Are you courting? Lord Collingwood is very handsome, Trudy. ”

  “Hush!” She quickened her gait to put a bit more distance between them and her father and Collingwood. She did not want their conversation overheard. “What makes you think so, Fi? You know Mother would never allow it.”

  “Someone mentioned that you were dancing at Carlton House. Someone else said they’d seen you walking in the gardens at Mrs. Ashland’s garden party. And that was Collingwood I saw you disappearing with in Vauxhall Gardens, was it not? Now you have even found each other here. I’ve never seen you favor one man over others until this season. And Collingwood?” Fiona laughed and brushed back a dark-blond lock that had escaped her bonnet. “I must say I would not have had the courage to aim so high as that.”

  “I haven’t aimed at all. Mother will not even allow callers. How could we have a courtship under her nose?”

  Fiona shrugged. “There are many ways, Trudy. And it would be worth the risk if the gentleman was Collingwood.”

  “Fi! This is heresy! If Mother knew what you were suggesting...”

  “There is a wealth of things Mother does not know. Some quite shocking.”

  If Fiona knew ways to subvert Mother, perhaps she had been doing so right under Trudy’s nose, too! “Would one of them be a secret beau? The one the other girls are giggling about?”

  “Giggling? Ah, and here I’d thought we’d been quite discreet. ’Twould seem the only people we’ve fooled are our families. Until you. How did you find out?”

  “All these hints about subverting Mother. And Lydia Bradley let it slip at Carlton House that you had a ‘particular friend.’”

  Fiona gasped. “Lydia? Why, that little twit! Heaven only knows who she’s told by now.”

  “Who is it, Fi?”

  “Lydia didn’t say?”

  Trudy shook her head. Fiona was being most aggravating. All hints and no facts.

  Fiona emitted a deep sigh of relief. “Then perhaps there’s no harm done.”

  “No harm? Fi, is this ‘friend’ of yours already affianced?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Gads! Say he is not married!”

  “For heaven’s sake, Trudy, I only meant that Laura has kept us all waiting until she made a choice, and I have not waited to make mine. Once she is wed, I will not be far behind her. So, if you fancy any particular man, you will not have long to wait until you, too, are engaged.”

  “Then tell me his name, Fi.”

  “You will know who he is directly after Laura’s wedding. I cannot tell you how hellish waiting for that has been.”

  “Will it be a short engagement?”

  “Only long enough for the banns to be read. I will not wait for Mother to make an extravaganza of my marriage. You had better be ready for another wedding before the summer is out. And then Mother will be able to devote all her attention to you.”

  Trudy rolled her eyes. “I shall have to hide out in the country. But I think I know who your beau is.”

  “You couldn’t!”

  “’Tis Collingwood, is it not? His attention to me is just a ruse to keep people from guessing the truth.”

  Fiona laughed. “Collingwood would terrify me, Trudy. He is so rigid and unbending. But you are fearless enough to withstand that. I just do not know if it would make for a good match. You are far too impetuous and outspoken for such a man.”

  How interesting that Fiona was warning her away from Collingwood. “He is not in the least terrifying. And he has a very dry sense of humor.” Trudy shrugged, feigning indifference. “Quite refreshing.”

  “You defend him nicely. Nevertheless, a man in Collingwood’s lofty position must have an eye to a suitable wife. One who can be his hostess and further his position in society. And, of course, bear him an heir.”

  Nevertheless? Apparently, Fiona thought that job was beyond Trudy’s capabilities? Was she really so wayward? “Oh, this is silly. Collingwood and I are congenial—nothing more. And you are trying to divert me. Now who is your beau, Fiona?”

  “You will be the first I tell after Laura’s vows are said.”

  “Laura does not know?”

  “No one knows, Trudy, and it is going to stay that way for the next... is it only a week and a half now? Surely you can wait that long.”

  Trudy shivered. Everyone in her family was behaving in a most peculiar manner. Even she was behavi
ng out of character. Indeed, she was beginning to have a very bad feeling about all of this.

  Chapter Six

  HER HEART BEATING at lightning speed, Trudy let go of the branch and dropped to the grass. She had pushed her hair into a soft cap, smudged her face with a bit of dirt from a flowerpot, put coins in her pocket and headed for the street. Toward Lancelot’s favorite tavern. Dressed in his old clothing from the attic, she was certain she would go unnoticed on the streets.

  He would not tell her what he was doing? Well and good. Everything she knew about her brother told her he could not be the Mayfair Shadow, that he was only trying to help a friend, but everything she’d discovered pointed directly to him. If she found that he was the Shadow, she’d find some way to stop him. Some way to make it right.

  The Blue Swan was on a narrow street just off Charing Cross. She stood as tall as she could, squared her shoulders and entered the bustling taproom. She immediately spotted Lancelot sitting at a table with friends. A quick glance revealed a small table in a dark corner and she headed in that direction, knowing she’d be inconspicuous there.

  No sooner had she taken a seat than a tavern girl came to her table. “What’ll ye have, sir?”

  Trudy kept her cap on, pulled the front a little lower and dropped her voice low. “Hard cider.”

  “Oooo, ye’re a young‘un fer such strong spirits. Don’t even ’ave fuzz on yer cheeks,” the girl teased.

  “Old enough t’drink,” she said, her voice cracking with the effort to deepen it.

  The girl chortled, shook her head and walked away.

  She dug a coin out of the waistcoat pocket and laid it on the table, afraid her hands would give her away when the girl came back.

  How odd it was to watch Lancelot and his friends laughing, drinking and jesting when there were—so they thought—no womenfolk around but a serving girl. They seemed to have not a care in the world. She was pleased, though, when he chided one of his friends for pinching the barmaid on her way past. With a bevy of sisters, Lancelot would be sensitive to such things.

  The girl placed the tankard of cider on the table and snatched the coin. “I’ll bring yer change in a minute, lad.”

  A group of rowdy men burst through the door with good natured jests and back-slapping. She recognized a few faces. Mr. Amory was laughing and shouted a greeting to Lancelot, who raised his tankard to the man. The man he’d robbed just days ago?

  Trudy’s stomach did a quick roll. This just couldn’t be. Lancelot was not that sort of person. And yet... She sipped her cider and watched as the newcomers merged with Lancelot’s group. She could not make out their conversation but it was punctuated with laughter and jibes. Someone—Mr. Amory, she thought—urged them to go somewhere called ‘Madam Grave’s.’ One of the infamous gambling hells? Or a different sort of diversion?

  Heat seeped into her cheeks with that last thought, and she gulped the remainder of her cider. The serving girl quickly brought her another tankard and winked as she put it on the table. “’Ere’s yer change, laddie.”

  Trudy nodded, unwilling to start an argument or do anything that might call attention to her.

  The group of men finished their drinks and gathered their hats and coats with a good deal of laughter. Lancelot, she noted, looked a bit weary, but he was quick to cover it. She wondered when he ever rested, what with sporting all day and prowling all night.

  As they headed for the door, she drank her hard cider and stood, waiting for them to leave. When they did, she counted to ten, then hurried to the door and stepped onto the street. The group had disappeared, but she heard their voices to her right. They were heading back to Charing Cross. If they hired a hack, she would lose them.

  At the corner, she risked a peek around the edge of a building. Yes, there they were, waiting for a hackney coach. She would have to hire one quickly after or she may as well go home.

  Everything changed in an instant when a strong hand clamped over her mouth and another around her waist. She squeaked and whirled to face the offender.

  “What game is this, Miss Trudy?”

  Collingwood! Oh, dear God! How would she ever explain without giving away her suspicions of her own brother? “I... I might ask the same of you, Lord Collingwood. Why are you accosting me on the street?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Accosting? Am I to understand that you often, and with the consent of your parents, go abroad in men’s clothing after dark? Into taverns and God only knows where else?”

  She swallowed hard, the cider finally hitting bottom and making her a bit dizzy. “Of course they do not know. But I am a grown woman. I may do as I please.”

  “Not if you want to keep even the smallest modicum of respectability.”

  She had no answer to that, so she returned with her own accusation. “Have you been following me, Collingwood?” He blinked. Clearly he had not expected a counterattack.

  “I was there before you, Miss Trudy. You were too busy watching your brother and his friends to notice anyone else. I was in a corner near the front.”

  “I did not see you.”

  “I did not want to be seen.”

  “Why?”

  “Damn it, Trudy! I am asking the questions. What the hell did you think you were doing? Alone. In a tavern. Dressed like... like,” he waved one hand to indicate her clothing, “like a boy, for God’s sake!”

  “Having a cider.”

  “Do not tweak me,” he warned, his voice lower and darker than she’d ever heard. She shivered.

  She’d always known he was stodgy and rigid, but she’d never realized he could be so intimidating. So... dangerous. Above all, he was a gentleman. He would not hurt her. Physically. But if he dragged her home and presented her to her mother and father, she was done for.

  Her mind whirled as she sought some version of the truth that would satisfy him and not give Lancelot away. “I... I wanted to know where my brother goes every night. What keeps him away until dawn.”

  He shook his head. “Tell me you would not have followed him into a gaming hell. Or a bordello.”

  “Don’t be silly. What use would I have for a bordello?”

  “Thank God for that much, at least. Am I to assume you would follow him into a hell?”

  She shrugged and busied herself putting her waistcoat to right. “Assume what you wish.”

  He took her arm, spun her around, and headed for Charing Cross. “I am taking you home.”

  “I am perfectly capable of—”

  “I cannot leave you to... to do whatever it is you meant to do.”

  “And what were you doing—skulking in a corner like that?”

  “This is not about me, Trudy.”

  “I beg to differ, Collingwood. You’ve made it my business by your meddling in mine. What business is it of yours what I do or where I go? A bit presumptuous of you, if I do say so myself.”

  “Presump—are you mad?” He hailed a coach and nearly tossed her in. “Cavendish Square,” he barked at the driver. “Slowly.” Then he joined her in the compartment, taking the seat facing her and raising an eyebrow. “We have things to settle, Gertrude Carr. I will have certain promises from you before I deposit you on your doorstep.”

  “Or?”

  “I will tell your father. Now stop behaving like a spoiled child.”

  “Stop treating me like one. You have no right to tattle on me. And you are not my father.”

  “You’re damned right I’m not! And a bloody good thing for you! Now confess.”

  She folded her arms over her chest and pressed her lips together. She did not owe him any explanations.

  A few unnerving minutes passed while he simply stared at her. Waiting. A growing sense of foreboding made her fidget with her cuff. Then, without warning, he shifted to her seat, seized her and pulled her against him, his arms surrounding her like a fortress.

  She was so surprised she gasped. He moved one hand up her back, knocked her cap off as he tangled his fingers through her hair
, and held her still before lowering his mouth to speak against hers.

  “Trudy, I do not know what game you are playing, but it must stop. It is dangerous for a woman to be abroad at night alone. I shudder to think what could have happened to you if I hadn’t recognized you.”

  Her heartbeat tripped and her breathing quickened. She raised her arms to circle his neck, wanting desperately for him to kiss her. She’d wanted that again since she’d walked with him in Vauxhall Gardens. She’d dreamed of it every night. And, even as they’d argued tonight, she felt it rising between them now, undeniable, unbearably inevitable. There was nothing for it but to surrendered to the pull.

  She closed her eyes and he deepened the pressure of his lips on hers. Soft, tentative at first, like a question. Then, recognizing her acceptance, hungry. Ravenous. Oh, this was heaven, just as she remembered it, but more intense. His lips moved against hers, beseeching, coaxing, teaching. She parted her lips eagerly and he entered. The intimacy of the soft sweep of his tongue across hers was beyond description. Beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

  Was it the cider that made her feel all liquid and hot at her center? Or was it Collingwood’s kiss? But she already knew it had to be Collingwood. Cider had never made her breasts tingle or that little moan to find its way up from her deepest soul. Oh, dear God! A moan like the one she’d heard in Vauxhall Gardens.

  He groaned and lifted his mouth, resting his forehead against hers. “I should apologize.”

  “Would you mean it?”

  “No, Trudy. I will do it again, given half a chance.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Definitely wayward.”

  And with that declaration, she remembered why she was here.

  Collingwood had been at the Blue Swan, too. Watching Lancelot and his friends. And he had wagered he would find the Shadow. If he did not suspect Lancelot, then he suspected someone in his group of friends. She could not let him nab her brother and turn him over to the king’s men.

  No. Collingwood could never know. Never. The family would be disgraced. Laura’s wedding would be canceled. Mother would slide into a decline from which she’d never recover. Fiona would lose her ‘particular friend,’ and who would ever entrust Father with their money and investments again?