“I have plans to spend tomorrow afternoon with Lord Drake. Please advise Wiggins.” She inclined her head briefly before walking to the front door of Stafford House.
Mary curtsied and shot him another sour look before she followed her mistress into the house. He had no time to worry about either woman’s sensibilities as Wiggins appeared beside him.
“How do you do that?” he asked the valet. “You’re forever sneaking up on me.”
“I apologize, sir.”
He frowned at the other man. Wiggins didn’t sound in the least bit contrite.
“The picnic looked a charming venture,” Wiggins said.
“You followed us?”
“I followed Michael Bradley, who followed you.”
“So, he knows Lady Stafford has a protector.”
“Couldn’t such knowledge make you a target?”
He shook his head. “I think the man is aware that blackmailing me would get him nothing. If it weren’t that I was afraid of the Foreign Secretary finding out, I would make sure Bradley disappeared without a trace.”
Wiggins’ eyes lit up. “Just say the word.”
“I couldn’t do it, man. Not in cold blood.” He smiled to himself. “Perhaps Michael Bradley will give me a reason to defend myself.”
Chapter Twenty
Anna stood very still a moment, appalled to realize her first inclination upon entering Stafford House had been to head to the drawing room or study in the hope she’d find some alcohol Mary hadn’t poured out. Dinkins relieved her of her outerwear.
“I will be in the library.” Her words addressed her maid and the butler. “I do not wish to be disturbed.”
She walked down the corridor in the opposite direction of the drawing room. The idea she might want to send an invitation to Lord Drake to accompany her to some amusement on the morrow crossed her mind. She would deal with arrangements for an outing later.
“What to read, what to read.” She pulled back the drapes from the tall windows on one wall of the library to let in some natural light. Maybe a good book would divert her attention from her jumbled feelings for Devlyn and the desire to escape reality by drowning in a bottle of wine.
The one benefit of her brief marriage to Danforth had been her access to the Stafford family’s enormous and eclectic collection of books. She had never been allowed in her uncle’s small library when she visited his house as he used the room as a private office. She’d spent many an evening after her husband’s death in this room. She wasn’t fond of gardening or needlework and there was little enough to do running the household. In this room she could drink her wine and read. On her more ambitious days she’d even catalogued some of the books.
She chose The Tales of Shakespeare to read. The book had been a gift to her from her aunts and she hoped to pass it on to her own son or daughter someday. The Winter’s Tale was her favorite story in the volume. How wonderful it would be to share the surprise ending of the legend with her own child.
Curled up in a large overstuffed armchair, she had no desire to go upstairs and wash away the dust of the day. She was staying in after all.
It felt like something was missing. Was it the lack of wine? She would have to develop the habit of reading without alcoholic refreshment. She was far too content in her current position to bestir herself and ring for tea.
Anna had read only a few pages of the story when she felt her eyelids start to droop. A short nap on the comfortable chair would be lovely. She drifted off to sleep, her last thought being that the image of Hermione in her head looked quite like herself, and more remarkably, Leontes resembled Devlyn.
* * * * *
Michael Bradley shook his head upon seeing the man from Bond Street speaking with Devlyn Maitlin. Had the man shadowed him as he followed Maitlin and the chit? Well, there was little he could do about it now.
In two days’ time he would meet with Lady Stafford.
“Where do you plan on traveling on the Continent?” his friend Edward Hughes had asked him only last night.
Afraid his habit of visiting Boodle’s had been discovered, Michael suggested to his friend they dine at Edward’s townhouse.
“Here and there,” he answered. His friend might be good for some blunt or to cage a meal from, but he’d never trust the famous Corinthian to keep any secrets to himself. “I depart the day after tomorrow. I may be gone quite a long while.”
“Good luck on your travels.” The other man had sent him off with a hearty handshake. Both men knew their friendship was a transitory thing. Based on Edward’s money and Michael fawning over it and the man.
He’d left Edward Hughes with the idea Michael Bradley would soon leave England when he had no intention of doing so. He would take himself off as far as a hired coach could get him away from London in one day and he would wait. Wait for Lady Stafford to relax and Maitlin to find some other woman to attend to. If the information Edward had passed on about Devlyn Maitlin were true, the man wouldn’t be able to satisfy the countess’s desire to have children.
“Devlyn Maitlin? Oh yes, the younger son. The mishap he and his brother were involved in three years ago was a nasty business.”
Edward didn’t personally know the Maitlin family. No matter. The man’s ability for searching out and finding the latest on dit was legendary.
“There was an accident?” His friend had a habit of not finishing an anecdote until his audience showed enough interest. “Do tell.”
“David Maitlin, Viscount of Cameron, attempted to pass a wagon on a turn in the dirt track near his country estate. The effort was not successful and both men were hurt. Cameron nearly had a leg amputated and his younger brother sustained an injury to his groin.”
“Sounds ghastly,” he replied. “Have both men quite recovered from their injuries?”
Edward shook his head. “Lord Cameron remains in the country and is rumored to be crippled due to his injured leg. Devlyn Maitlin on the other hand…”
“Yes?” With some effort he kept irritation out of his voice at the man’s dramatic pause.
“The injury to his groin apparently resulted in his being infertile. His mother will never see a grandchild from him.”
Michael immediately thought of his ability to impregnate a woman in conjunction with Lady Stafford. The scheme would never go anywhere as the woman had spared no time in showing her complete and utter contempt for him. She also lacked the requisite husband to guarantee her child was considered legitimate.
His regrets about Anna Stafford were put aside as he watched Devlyn Maitlin jump back onto the seat of his barouche. The man’s spy slipped away around the side of Stafford House.
Michael still hadn’t decided where he would meet the countess to receive the jewels. If he arranged a meeting at Stafford House, Maitlin or his henchman would no doubt be near at hand. He couldn’t think of a reason he needed to follow either Maitlin or Lady Stafford any longer. It was time to return to his rooms and formulate a plan.
Two more days and he would be free of the moneylenders.
* * * * *
“Wake up, my lady,” a soft voice said, disturbing Anna’s dream.
“Not now,” she replied. Her reunion with King Leontes had taken place and he’d lifted her in his arms to carry her to their bedchamber for a proper reunion.
“Your neck and back will be stiff from resting in one situation for so long.”
“You even badger me in my sleep,” she replied, not bothering to keep her voice from sounding grumpy. She opened her eyes to the smiling countenance of her maid.
Despite the testy mood of her employer, Mary helped Anna from her overstuffed chair and said sunnily, “Cook is holding dinner for you.”
Anna stretched. “I will take a tray in my room after I have a bath.”
Once she was clean and well fed, she tackled the problem of Lord Drake.
“I have to find some way to spend time with him tomorrow.”
She paced her bedchamber as she struggl
ed to think of a suitable amusement. She knew without a doubt Wiggins would inform his employer if she left her house in the company of Lord Drake.
A picnic would be out of the question. Devlyn would see through such a ploy and she couldn’t depend on another beautiful day. It would be best to plan an activity that could be pursued indoors.
“I’ve got it: Somerset House!” She took a seat at her writing desk to compose a short missive. The annual art exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts would be the perfect place to be seen with Lord Drake.
She’d already dismissed Mary for the evening. Her bell was answered by a housemaid.
“I want to be notified as soon as Lord Drake sends a reply.” She handed the note to the servant.
If Lord Drake responded in the negative, she would be sunk. She had to depend on the appeal of the Stafford fortune to make him available to her at such short notice.
Not an hour later she was gratified by a knock on her bedchamber door.
“My lady? Your reply has come.”
She opened her door to see the same maid she’d given her note to earlier. “Thank you.”
The lamp on the small table near her bed remained lit although she’d turned the flame down. She moved to the table and scanned Lord Drake’s reply.
Lady Stafford-
I am delighted to receive your invitation for the morrow. My only sister is in town and I have worried over the lack of truly cultured women to introduce her to. An outing to the art exhibit would be most agreeable to both of us.
Your servant,
Lord Drake
The wording of Lord Drake’s missive suggested his sister might have helped him pen his reply. The added person to their party bothered her not one whit. The young woman’s presence would ensure she could leave her matchmaking maid at home and still not be alone with Lord Drake all afternoon.
Her idea to attend the exhibition with the man might have started as an attempt to needle Devlyn. It could serve another purpose as well. She needed to spend time with Lord Drake to determine whether she could tolerate him as a husband.
In the last week she had acquainted herself with nearly all the eligible gentlemen of the ton. Lord Drake was her best option for a mate. Although she didn’t desire him, she didn’t feel ill at the idea of his bedding her. He had already fathered one child. She put away thoughts of Devlyn and consigned herself to the very real possibility of an indifferent marriage to a fortune hunter.
* * * * *
Mr. Maitlin-
Lady Stafford, in the company of Lord Drake, has left Stafford House to spend the afternoon viewing the Royal Exhibition at Somerset House.
Respectfully,
Wiggins
Devlyn pressed his lips together to prevent a snort or other vulgar noise from escaping his mouth. The chit was welcome to Lord Drake. He knew her primary motive for spending time with the man was to punish him for his rude behavior yesterday. His own valet had played along by notifying his employer of the lady’s plans for the day.
“Are you feeling well?” his mother asked from across the breakfast table. “You look quite put out.”
The dowager hadn’t taken a tray in her room since the day she met Lady Stafford. If his mother hoped by sharing every meal with him she would glean some information about his relationship with Anna, she was sadly mistaken in her quest.
He shook his head. “I am quite well, mother. If you will excuse me, there are some important matters I must attend to.”
Seated in Cameron’s study he pushed all thoughts of Anna and Lord Drake spending time together out of his mind and concentrated on Michael Bradley. He knew without a doubt the man would continue to blackmail Anna after she gave him the jewels. He had to think of a way of silencing Bradley without killing him. Joseph Planta’s offer of assistance came to mind.
He remembered the undersecretary had the habit of eating a late breakfast at White’s. He walked to the entry hall of the house, an idea forming in his mind.
“Thomas,” he said to the butler. “I haven’t seen the paper in several days. Make sure a copy of today’s Times is placed with my mail. Also, please see that my carriage is brought around. I am going out.”
When he entered the club’s dining room, Joseph Planta greeted him with a smile. “Devlyn, my boy, what a pleasure it is to see you again so soon.”
“And I am pleased to see you, sir. I must admit that our meeting is not by chance.”
“Oh?” The older man raised a brow.
“I need your help and advice on a delicate matter.”
Devlyn took a seat across from the undersecretary and waved away an approaching waiter. “Nothing for me, thank you.”
“Tell me all about this delicate matter. I could do with some distraction. Lord Castlereagh is currently on the Continent and I’ve been occupied of late with replying to the mountain of correspondence he receives. Quite tiresome I must say.”
“I have a story to tell you,” he replied. “I do not believe you will find it in the least ways tiresome.”
* * * * *
Lord Drake’s shiny black town carriage rested in front of Stafford House; the Drake family coat of arms emblazoned on the door in bright red paint.
Anna repressed a groan after the viscount assisted her into his carriage and his sister, Mathilda, took a seat next to her. The young woman had already set her teeth on edge with her profession of delight at nearly every article of clothing Anna wore.
“I just adore your bonnet. The peach ribbons are lovely.”
“Thank you. I think your bonnet is lovely as well,” she replied untruthfully. The girl’s head covering looked rather garish with so many flowers attached to the brim.
The other woman sighed dramatically. “My mother refuses to let me have a Tule string spencer as she thinks it would be impossible to keep clean. You look very smart in yours.”
She could have told the girl the spencer was indeed extremely hard to clean. Mary complained about it often enough. Before she replied to the compliment on her outerwear, the girl complimented her on her footwear.
“Now, now, Mathilda,” Drake said to his sister. “Lady Stafford is indeed the picture of elegance. Could we find another topic of discussion before you embarrass our companion?”
Mathilda apologized and Anna graciously laughed any offense away. The coach moved forward and she endeavored to think of a topic of conversation other than the weather and everyone’s health.
“Do you have a fondness for children?” Mathilda asked her.
“I adore children. I hope to have several of my own someday,” she replied.
“Do you plan to remarry soon?”
Drake coughed and sent a reproving glance across the carriage to his sister.
“Pardon my forwardness. I have been so long out of town I think I have forgotten my manners.” Mathilda smiled prettily.
“Not at all,” she replied.
“My brother has a child.”
“Yes, I know.” She asked Lord Drake, “A little girl I believe?”
“She is but an infant. I do believe my Charlotte may be a great beauty someday.”
Mathilda sighed. “Poor little thing. How sad it must be to lose one’s mother at such a young age.”
Anna adopted a suitably mournful expression. She had the impression she’d been caught in a stage drama and Drake and his sister had rehearsed their lines just for this moment.
She turned in her seat and asked the girl, “Lady Mathilda, have you attended the annual exhibition before?”
The young woman looked surprised at the rapid change of subject. She rallied quickly and replied, “This will be my first visit, Lady Stafford.”
“It is my desire to introduce my sister to many of the cultural entertainments in London during her visit to town,” Drake said. “Tomorrow we plan to tour one of the museums.”
“How unfortunate that I have an important appointment on the morrow, or I would have enjoyed accompanying you,” she replied, afrai
d an invitation had been on the tip of Lord Drake’s tongue.
She would have to get used to the likelihood of Mathilda as her future sister-in-law.
“My sister and I shall have to devise another opportunity to enjoy your company,” Lord Drake rejoined with a warm smile.
She was relieved when the carriage came to a halt in front of Somerset House, a large Portland Stone building on the Thames. For a moment she wished she possessed a pocket flask like the one her uncle owned. Without alcohol to dull her senses she would have to ignore Mathilda’s silliness as best she could.
“My goodness, there are so many people here,” the girl said when their party alighted from the carriage. The courtyard in front of the North Wing of the building was crowded with coaches.
Lord Drake positioned himself between Anna and Mathilda. Both women dutifully took one of his arms.
“Remember you’re no longer in the country,” Drake said to his sister. “Somerset House is a place to see and be seen.”
The Exhibition Room was located at the top of what some referred to as the Strand Building. The long and winding staircase which led to the uppermost floor had been designed by Sir William Chambers and included several decorated landings. After climbing three flights of stairs Anna noticed Mathilda looked breathless. She suggested they pause a moment on one of the landings. Although she had recently started taking long walks in the afternoon, she also felt fatigued from the climb up several flights of stairs.
She looked over the railing and recognized Wiggins a few stair treads below her. He saluted her and she nodded in response.
“Lady Stafford, have you seen an acquaintance?” Mathilda queried, looking down at the valet. “Although the man is very striking, he isn’t dressed like a member of polite society.”
Although Wiggins might not be dressed in the first stare of fashion, Anna wasn’t fooled. She’d met the man and spoken with him. To her mind Wiggins was at the very least a member of the gentry. Perhaps unfortunate circumstances had led him to take up employment as a valet.
She felt Drake’s disapproving stare. “Yes, he is an acquaintance,” she replied, her words clipped.
A Lady's Addiction (Honor Prevails Book 1) Page 17