by Amelia Grey
“All right, Essie,” Josephine said in the same cheerful voice she’d used when she’d first entered the room. “I guess I’ll go.”
Esmeralda’s body relaxed and she smiled. Now she could start to make plans.
Chapter 7
Don’t ask anyone to do something you are not willing to do yourself.
MISS MAMIE FORTESCUE’S DO’S AND DON’TS FOR CHAPERONES, GOVERNESSES, TUTORS, AND NURSES
It was a hell of a dark night for Griffin to be huddled in the shadows watching a man’s back door. Griffin wore his hat low on his forehead and his cloak high around his neck. Still, the icy chill of damp air seeped into his bones, making him wish he’d thought to stuff a flask of brandy into his pocket.
He’d moved slowly between dark unfamiliar houses in search of the one he was looking for. Shifting banks of fog had whirled and scattered before him as he had walked. Many were the times as a boy, and later as a young man, when his father didn’t know he was out, Griffin had made his way through the lighted streets of Mayfair in the cold dead of night. He knew every house, yew hedge, and garden along the way. This quiet area of London was new to him. Clouds shielded any glow of light from the moon and stars but even in the pitch-darkness Griffin could see the houses were smaller and less affluent. Lamplights, cobblestone lanes, and garden walls were nowhere to be found.
His first thought had been to approach the man at White’s to find out what he knew. In mulling over all the possibilities of what might be said between the two, he’d decided it was best to see him in private. Sir Welby might be blind, but the barkeep wasn’t. Griffin planned to get the information he wanted from him.
Time passed slowly.
The air grew colder. Leaves rustled noisily as wind whistled softly around the corner of the house and whipped at Griffin’s cloak, forcing him to wrap it tighter about his shoulders. From somewhere on another street he heard the lonely baying of a hound and was reminded that the captivating Miss Swift would be bringing a dog with her to his house. He coughed out a soft laugh. He’d gone to great lengths to obtain her.
Thoughts of her made him smile. She knew how to play her hand better than any man he’d dealt with. She’d held him off until he was willing to give her anything she wanted just to hear her say yes. The arrangement he’d made with her might be unorthodox, but he didn’t expect it would cause any problems even though his aunt Evelyn had strongly disagreed with his decision to hire Miss Swift.
When Griffin heard the faint rattle of harness and wheels and the clipping sound of a horse’s hooves on a hard-packed street in the distance, he straightened. At last he heard the shuffling of feet and was soon rewarded with the figure of a man hunched against the biting cold walking up to the doorway he’d been watching for the better part of two hours.
Griffin’s footsteps were silent as he stepped out of the shadows and said, “Holsey.”
“Arrah,” the old man moaned as he jumped back and threw up his hands as if to thwart an attack.
Hellfire!
He hadn’t meant to scare the barkeep senseless. There wasn’t much light but he could see the man was shivering from fright. “It’s Griffin, Holsey, I mean you no harm.”
“Your Grace.” The man gave him a low bow and in a shaking voice murmured, “I thought you were a footpad out to rob me of my purse. What are you doing out here this hour of morning?”
“I’ve come to see you about an important matter. I didn’t want to talk to you at White’s, and it couldn’t wait.”
“Ah, important you say?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his woolen-gloved hand. “Did you want to come inside? I can stoke the fire and put a kettle on for you.”
“No. I don’t want to keep you and this won’t take long.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I understand you were working the taproom last night when Sir Welby was there. The time was between seven and nine. I want to know who else was in there at that time.”
“I don’t know, Your Grace,” the barkeep said without hesitation.
Griffin frowned and shifted his stance. “Think back, Holsey. It wasn’t tonight but last night. You know Sir Welby always sits at the table nearest the door so everyone will speak to him when they enter and leave. You had to have seen him, served him.”
“I don’t remember him being there.” Holsey’s voice was shaky again. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. “I don’t know who was there.”
Griffin hadn’t expected the bartender to be so unequivocal about his answer.
“You’ve heard the rumor going around about the possibility that my sisters might fall prey to a jokester out to ruin their Season, haven’t you?”
“I haven’t heard that, Your Grace.”
Cold and frustrated, Griffin was finding it difficult to hold his temper, but managed to quietly say, “That’s impossible. Damnation, man, all of London has heard it by now. It’s only a matter of time until someone has the courage to create a wager and register it in the books at White’s and other clubs.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Your Grace. Especially since you’ve been waiting here for me, but I don’t know about any of that.”
How could that be? Perhaps his information was wrong and it was another barkeep who was there.
“You were working in the taproom, right?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Once again, all I need to know is who else was in the taproom while Sir Welby was there. You won’t be implicating anyone just telling the truth of who was present.”
“I can’t help you, Your Grace. I don’t know.”
Griffin’s hands fisted in frustration. If the bartender had been a younger man, Griffin might have grabbed him by the neck of his coat and scared the hell out of him again. Perhaps he was just waiting for Griffin to line his pockets. He shouldn’t have expected the man to give over the information without some compensation.
“There will be a handsome reward for you if can recall a few names for me.”
Holsey’s breathing grew louder, and Griffin’s tensed. The man was considering his offer.
“It would be a fine day for me if I could collect it, Your Grace,” Holsey said slowly as he shook his head. “But I can’t. It wouldn’t be right. I started to work in the kitchen at White’s when I was still a lad. It was a good job to have for a youngster like me. A fine establishment to work in. That was a long time ago, but I can recall my first day as if it was only yesterday.”
“That’s all well and good, Holsey,” Griffin said, growing more irritable by the moment, “but it doesn’t help me find out who wants to hurt my sisters.”
“And I can’t help you, Your Grace. I took an oath not to see anything or hear anything no matter what was said or done or who said or did it. I’ve never forgotten that. If I’ve learned one thing from serving gents like yourself, it’s that a man’s honor is the most precious thing he has be he royalty, commoner, or servant like me. I must have honor as a representative of White’s. That place has been good to me over the years. If there’s one thing I believe more than anything else, it’s that if everyone doesn’t trust me, then no one will trust me.”
The man’s words hit Griffin hard. He believed that too. Despite his reputation as a one of London’s most notorious rakes, Griffin wasn’t a man without honor. He took a step away from the man and tipped his hat.
“Go on inside, Holsey. I won’t bother you about this again.”
Griffin turned away, knowing that a man’s honor was a hell of a thing to fight.
Chapter 8
Don’t jump to conclusions before the first word is uttered. Contrary to popular opinion, instant reactions are not usually the best ones.
MISS MAMIE FORTESCUE’S DO’S AND DON’TS FOR CHAPERONES, GOVERNESSES, TUTORS, AND NURSES
Esmeralda stood with her back to the low-burning fire in her office, reading yet another of the seven books Miss Fortescue had filled with words of wisdom throughout h
er forty years in service to the elite members of Polite Society. The ink had started to fade in the earliest of the volumes and several pages in one of the books had been damaged by moisture and mildew. The rest were in excellent condition.
For the most part, the woman’s handwritten words of tried and true wisdom were an easy and uncomplicated read. The best way to describe her books was as a common-sense approach to doing your best to serve your employer. The difficulty was that it was so easy to forget common sense when you found yourself flustered, angered, or in dire straits. If Esmeralda could put all the woman’s rules, suggestions, and knowledge to memory, perhaps one day she would be as successful with Polite Society as Miss Fortescue had been. But for now, that was a distant dream.
Esmeralda lowered the book and turned to face the fire. It was heavenly having warmth in the rooms again. She held one hand down to the fire, enjoying the heat against her skin. The small pieces of coal gave off an inviting glow.
The duke had given her the money for clothing and other items she would need to be properly dressed for her position as chaperone. Not for coal. But she hadn’t been able to resist the splurge when she discovered how much money was in the velvet pouch. Because she hadn’t used the ridiculously overpriced French modiste he’d suggested, Esmeralda had enough funds leftover to pay her coal debt and have more delivered.
With the help of Mrs. Chiddington from down the street, she had found a competent dressmaker who had acceptable fabrics, enough trimmings, and two daughters who helped her with the sewing. There would be no trouble getting the three gowns and matching velvet capes, two carriage dresses, gloves, unmentionables, and all the rest made in time for her departure to the duke’s house.
She’d had Josephine help her pick out ribbons, lace, and a strand of glass beads that looked a little like a string of pearls that she could use to adorn her hair for the balls. For daily outings to the park or afternoon card and tea parties she would make do with her black velvet bonnet and coat. They weren’t the height of fashion anymore but still in reasonably good condition.
She smiled to herself, found her place in the book once again, and continued her reading. “Don’t take part in the gossip of other household staff. Don’t listen to it and don’t repeat it. Do remember the lady of the house has entrusted her children into your care. Don’t disappoint her by giving wings to idle words or listening ears.”
The door to her office opened, so Esmeralda turned to greet whoever had come in and saw the Duke of Griffin striding inside. Much to her dismay, her first thought was Yes. He was the most handsome man on earth. Just the sight of him sent her heart whirling like a spinning wheel again. But the second thought that entered her mind was that he’d come back because he’d changed his mind about hiring her.
That knotted her stomach and clogged her throat with fear. If he no longer needed her, what was she going to do? She had very little left of the money he’d given her. Would he force her into a workhouse? What would happen to Josephine and Napoleon? They had no one else to care for them.
She snapped her book shut quickly and curtsied. “Your Grace.”
“Miss Swift.” He took off his hat as his gaze swept past her to the fireplace before settling on her face. “Am I interrupting anything other than your reading?”
“No,” she said, gripping the book tightly in her hands and lowering it to the front of her skirt.
“That’s good,” he said.
Different thoughts scattered crazily in her mind. What could she say to him about how she’d spent all of his money? How could she justify what she’d done? If she were a weaker woman, she would faint from the very idea of having to tell him some of it had gone to heat the house and for new clothing for Josephine too.
But she wasn’t weak. Esmeralda had proven that when shortly after her mother died she’d applied for a position with Miss Fortescue and was immediately accepted. Without her mother to guide Josephine’s father, Esmeralda knew she couldn’t depend on him to make enough money from his poetry and stories to take care of the family, and she’d been right.
She took a step toward the duke. A more tentative step than she’d wanted, but she wouldn’t let him know she was trembling inside. It was one thing to tell yourself to be strong and brave, but quite another to actually be that way when you were staring eye to eye with a duke.
“Have you decided you don’t need me?”
His brow tightened. His deep blue eyes watched her intently. “You amaze me, Miss Swift.”
“Do I?” she questioned cautiously.
“Yes. I have never seen anyone who has tried so hard to keep from working for me.”
Her stomach jumped again. “Well, I—”
He walked farther into the room. Stopping in front of her, he tossed his hat into a chair. “Usually I have people standing in line wanting to be of service to me; others pleading for my assistance in one way or another. Here you are still trying to get out of being employed by me. Let me assure you that won’t happen. We have an agreement. It is a good one for both of us. I won’t let you break it.”
Thank goodness!
Her fears about her position in his household put to rest, she simply said, “You are persistent.”
“With you, I’m forced to be. Now tell me, do you have any new demands to make today?”
Demands?
She had done that, hadn’t she? But only because, at the time, she’d hoped to persuade him to use someone else in the agency.
“Of course not. I didn’t know you were coming by. Why would you think that?”
Humor twitched the corners of his mouth. “I was thinking perhaps you were going to tell me that you discovered Napoleon has a sister after all and she must come with you to Mayfair.”
Esmeralda smiled too. And a soft, short laugh escaped past her lips. “I have no such ultimatums to make today. I thought maybe you had re— I mean, I didn’t expect to see you again until I arrived at your house, but no matter about that now.”
“Did you find someone to take care of your responsibilities here in the agency while you are away?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling the tension slowly ebbing from her body and her runaway heartbeat returning to almost normal. She had a feeling that, in his presence, it would never be normal. “Everything has been arranged satisfactorily.”
“Let me guess,” he said, folding his arms across his broad chest. “It will be Miss Pennywaite who replaces you.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
“From what little I heard of your conversation with her the other day, I think it was clear she doesn’t have the fortitude to handle a strong-minded child and that you’d have to replace her.”
Esmeralda would have used the word “spoiled” instead of “strong-minded,” but kept her thoughts to herself and said, “You’re right, she doesn’t. Though she tried hard to overcome her feelings of inadequacies in knowing how to calm her charge and prevail.”
It wasn’t so much his handsome face that kept Esmeralda staring at him, it was all of him. The wide shoulders, broad chest, slim hips, and the powerful-looking legs ensconced in shiny black knee boots. Her gaze dropped to the medallion at his throat that held his cloak together. The design was beautiful and fancy with lots of swirls and curls. After a moment, she realized the inscription was a G.
In a rare moment of make believe, Esmeralda envisioned herself walking up to the duke, unhooking the ornamental pewter disk at the base of his throat, and letting the black cape fall to the floor. She imagined slowly untying the casual bow of his neckcloth, unwinding it, and allowing it too to flutter to the floor. She imagined closing her eyes and reaching up to place her lips against his as he gathered her into his strong, warm embrace.
Anticipation rose in her chest.
She made a move to step closer to him before she caught herself, coughed, and cleared her throat, hoping the rising heat she felt in her body wouldn’t travel up to her cheeks and tell on her. What kind of
madness had come over her? What in heaven’s name was she doing thinking about kissing the duke?
Exhaling a deep breath, she walked over to the desk, laid Miss Fortescue’s book down, and said again, “Miss Pennywaite wasn’t able to be successful in her duties, but I had another very capable governess waiting for a position, so it all worked out in the end.”
Perhaps it was just her guilty conscience, but with the way his eyes questioned hers, she could have sworn he knew exactly what she’d been thinking before she put the book down.
“At least you gave her a second chance to succeed,” he said.
“Yes. She will do a good job here. I’ve asked her to have weekly reports delivered to me and told her that she could contact me at your house should there be an emergency. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Quite.”
“Thank you. Now, was there something you needed from me today, or did you simply want to make sure I would keep my word and chaperone your sisters?”
“Both. The main reason I’m here is at the behest of my aunt, Lady Evelyn.”
Esmeralda knew about Lady Evelyn the same way she knew about most of the elite few who made up the ton—from what she’d gleaned from the social pages and ladies who worked for the agency. When they came in each month to pay their fee, most of them had a morsel or two of gossip about their employers or what they’d heard about others to share as well.
Lady Evelyn was the only sister of the duke’s father. She had been married to an older gentleman who died a few years after they’d wed. She’d never had children and had never remarried. Since the duke’s mother had died shortly after giving birth to the twins, Lady Evelyn had moved into the duke’s house to see to it that the girls were properly brought up as befitting daughters, and now sisters, of a duke.
“My aunt takes her responsibilities for the twins much too seriously at times,” he continued. “She was quite perturbed when I told her that I had hired you without consulting her or anyone and without questioning you in detail about your family.”