Secrets of a Fair Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Abigail Agar

  “I dislike fish as well and can perfectly understand that,” Hamish replied.

  “Really? I had thought the Scottish were far fonder of fish than the English,” she said.

  “Well, I am only half-Scottish and my mother and father preferred lamb to salmon,” he said, laughing.

  For that one, sweet moment, it was glorious to not be questioning her about the case of Miss Smithfield.

  “Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The two of you are very close,” he said.

  “Indeed, we are. From the very start I noticed that she was different from other maids. She did not judge my appreciation for the finer things in life and I could never see her as anything lesser for not having them,” she said.

  “That is good of you,” Hamish said.

  “No, that is simply how it should be. England would be a far kinder place if everyone saw one another that way,” Miss Reid reasoned.

  “True enough, I suppose,” he said.

  “Anyway, we have always been close. Ever since she came to work at our home,” she said.

  “But…things change,” he said.

  It was true. Things did change. Constantly, friendships were abandoned, betrayals took place. He had to consider the fact that animosity and bitterness could take root in anyone’s soul. And once they did, it was difficult to get their claws back out again.

  Miss Reid drew her face tight in confusion.

  “Yes, I suppose. Things change. But our friendship has not. Why?” she asked, not understanding.

  “Miss Reid,” he said, trying to gather his courage. “I am curious as to what may have changed between yourself and Miss Smithfield. Perhaps if you were not comfortable with your brother’s interest in her? Or if you were unhappy about something else you saw?” he asked.

  She looked at him with a sudden realisation. Hamish didn’t want to acknowledge it, he wanted to pretend as though she had not noticed it. But he realised, in that moment, that she knew what he was doing.

  Until then, she had not been aware that he was trying to question her. Until that moment, she had believed that this was a simple conversation for more information. Now, she realised that he was investigating her.

  She was a suspect.

  “You…” she trailed off, trying to catch her breath. “You are accusing me of being the one to send her away?”

  The question was angry.

  “I am only asking you what I must. I never said that I believe you are guilty of anything. But I have no choice. I must question you,” he said.

  “Why would you think that I had anything at all to do with it? Was I not the one who insisted upon coming to you? I begged you to take her case, to find her. And once you had, I am the one who insisted you continue trying to discover what was behind it all. I was the one who urged you to ensure that she is safe and protected,” Miss Reid said.

  “I know. I know that you did all of those things. Miss Reid, I never claimed that I believe you are guilty. It is only that I have no choice in this matter. I have to question you. If you want me to look into this case, I must to do it. No matter what,” he said.

  “I cannot believe I thought you were trying to help us. You only want to see me put in my place. You want to see the wealthy young woman from a corrupt family put in her place, is that it?” she asked.

  “No! Not at all. I never said any such thing,” Hamish insisted.

  Her fury was undeniable. He could hardly blame her for it.

  Knowing that she was not guilty, knowing that she could not possibly be, he hated questioning her in the first place. But now, she was betrayed by him.

  Whatever anger was sending her over, however she was meant to express it, Hamish hated to think that she was so furious at him.

  Being the object of her anger was painful. It broke his heart.

  He had truly begun to care for this woman. Not knowing why, Hamish simply found her fascinating.

  But he recognised that he was ruining everything. By doing his job, he was hurting her feelings and causing her to be just as suspicious of him.

  “Please, Miss Reid. I beg of you. Please listen to me. I am not accusing you of anything,” he said.

  “Then why? Why did you bring me here? Why did you offer for my mother and father to come? Clearly it is not because you think me innocent. You wanted to see if you could get me to confess something. You—you do not trust me,” she said, the last part breaking from emotion.

  “I do. I really do. But I have to do this. I have no choice. Please, Miss Reid, you must believe me,” Hamish said.

  “I must believe you? You are the one who has made it clear that I am not to be believed. I did trust you. I trusted you to be a part of this, to help me find justice on behalf of my friend. And now, more than ever, you are accusing me. Even after…” she trailed off.

  But Hamish knew what she was thinking.

  Even after we danced. Even after we shared such beautiful moments with one another. Even after I believed that you had begun to care for me.

  “Please, Miss Reid,” he said.

  In her rage, Miss Reid stood up from her seat and bolted from the room. He saw Miss Dalton following behind her.

  But, soon enough, she was gone.

  He regretted it terribly, but he knew that he had to do it. It was painful that he had hurt her.

  The ache in his chest told him that he did not simply like her. He did not simply care for her.

  He was falling in love with her.

  Chapter 21

  That evening, Georgiana dressed herself as beautifully as she could. She knew that the ball was going to be a perfect opportunity to get her mind off of everything that had happened that afternoon.

  She still couldn’t believe it. She could hardly imagine what had possessed inspector Brock to treat her that way.

  Was he really suspicious of her? Had she done anything to cause him to wonder whether or not she was guilty?

  She couldn’t figure it out. She couldn’t understand why he would believe that she was guilty.

  She had been adamant in trying to protect Rachel. Georgiana had been the one who had insisted that he look into this matter, that he make sure that Rachel was kept safe.

  Even Rachel had already explained to him how it could not possibly be Georgiana.

  So why was he questioning her? Why was he treating her like a common criminal?

  She couldn’t answer those questions, but she could distract herself. She could find a way of taking her mind off of everything that happened.

  Georgiana could even find a way of taking her mind off of her feelings for Inspector Brock.

  She and William went to the ball together. It took only a few moments for her to begin interacting with different gentlemen.

  “Good evening, Miss Reid. My, you look ravishing,” Mr. Swanson said.

  “Thank you, indeed. Your words are too kind,” she said, with false humility.

  “I must ask if you have space on your dance card for later this evening?” he asked.

  “Why, yes, Mr. Swanson. I do,” she said, looking at her card.

  A short time later, she was approached by Mr. Quinn, Lord Ivey, and Mr. Jacobson. Each one asked for a place on her dance card and each was given approval.

  “I do believe you are known for your exquisite dancing,” Mr. Jacobson said.

  “Not especially. I enjoy dancing and I do my very best to keep my toes free of my partner’s,” she said, teasingly.

  “I am glad to hear it. I know that Lord Ivey is looking forward to dancing with you, but I must say that he is not the greatest dancer here,” he said in a mock whisper.

  “That is a shame. Still, I should like to find out for myself. He is a very kind man,” she said.

  “Well, baron or no, he ought to be ashamed of the fact that he is such a poor dancer,” Mr. Jacobson said, laughing.

  It was clear to Georgiana that he did not want her dancing with Lord Ivey.

  “If you will excuse me for a moment, Mr.
Jacobson, I do need to go and speak with my brother for a moment,” she said, curtseying and rushing off as quickly as she could to find William.

  “There you are,” she said, once she found him, just parting from another gentleman near the refreshments.

  “Oh, what are you doing? Should you not be off dancing with your many admirers?” he asked.

  “I have a brief pause in my dance card. Anyway, I wanted to see if you had found any young women with which to dance,” she said, grasping for any topic she might raise with him to distract herself.

  “As it happens, Miss Simpson is quite lovely. I do admire her hair,” he said, although Georgiana could see from his gaze that it was not Miss Simpson’s hair that her brother was eyeing.

  “Well, I already have five names on my dance card and thought I might grab a quick bite before engaging in them,” she said.

  “Very well. Enjoy. I am off to ask that young woman over there if I might have the honour of her name,” he said, grinning wolfishly.

  With that, he was off and away.

  Deciding that she would truly enjoy herself, Georgiana accepted many invitations to dance. She decided to chastely, subtly flirt with them, to enjoy their attention.

  She decided that she was not going to let her heart be broken.

  Still, it made her angry that she had begun to like him. It made her angry that he could set her like this.

  And she was deeply wounded that he would ever consider her to be guilty.

  Enjoying the next four dances with gentlemen, Georgiana laughed with a carefree air.

  “You are such a vibrant woman,” Lord Ivey told her.

  “Oh, Lord Ivey, a woman must be vibrant if she is going to be asked to dance with a man such as yourself. Do you believe I would simply sit around, waiting for your attention?” she asked, cautious that she was not too forward, but being unafraid to flirt with him somewhat.

  “You do me a great honour, Miss Reid,” he said.

  “No, indeed, I am the one who is honoured,” she replied.

  “And the Baron of Ayre? I have heard that he is absent again this evening. You must be sad to learn that,” Lord Ivey said.

  It was clear that he was searching, searching, searching for answers. He wanted to know whether or not she was being courted by another man of his same station.

  “I am always sad when a friend is not present, Lord Ivey,” she said, giving nothing away.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, saying nothing more about it.

  Later, she was surrounded by a group of four gentlemen, doing her very best to entertain them.

  “Well, what is a woman meant to do in a man’s world? If I am not allowed to use my mind for anything other than reading and playing the pianoforte, who is to say that I have no skill for doctoring or physics?” she asked.

  One of the men scoffed at the idea, but the other three stared daggers at him.

  “I believe you would be more than capable of any of those things,” another said.

  She laughed, heartily, enjoying the attention.

  All around her, Georgiana had men enjoying her company, flirting with her in reply, conversing and dancing when they had the chance. It really was a useful distraction from her aching heart.

  “Miss Reid?” came a man’s voice from behind her as she finished a conversation with another man who had asked to dance with her later.

  Georgiana turned and saw a face that was somewhat familiar, although she could not quite place him. There was something about his appearance, his posture, something that told her he was a man who believed himself to have authority, although not the sort of authority given to the others there that evening.

  “Yes?” she asked. “Hello.”

  “Forgive me, you probably do not remember me,” he said, smiling shyly. I work at the precinct. Constable Frampton.”

  Georgiana froze. She had not expected this. This was not the sort of ball that a constable might be invited to.

  This man had seen her in all of her frivolity. He had seen her dancing with gentleman after gentleman. He had seen her laughing and being childish and girlish and flirting. He had seen her behaving, in short, like the sort of woman that Inspector Brock had feared she would be.

  And now, she feared that this constable was going to tell him.

  “Constable Frampton, of course. Good evening. How nice to see you,” she said, all in a rush.

  “And you, as well. I ought to have known that you would be in attendance,” he said.

  She did not reply, having not expected to see him at all.

  “You might not think it, but our host’s wife is my cousin. Our mothers are sisters. My mother married for love. Her mother married a baron and now she has married an earl,” he explained.

  “I see. So, Lady Murray is your cousin?” she asked.

  “Yes, she is. Anyway, we were close growing up and she often invites me to spend time together. But it is nice to see you here,” Constable Frampton said, looked at her as though he could see right through her.

  Georgiana wasn’t sure if she was happy or terrified that word might get back to Inspector Brock.

  In one sense, hearing about this would only make him think that she did not care for him. It would prove to him that his opinion of her did not matter. It would comfort her pride and give her the strength to overcome her pain.

  However, he might hear of it and think that she was every bit as immature as she had been acting. And did she really want him to think she cared nothing for him? Was she certain that that was the decision she had made?

  All of this was too complex. It only proved to her that her own emotions could not be trusted.

  She had spent too much time indulging in the whims of her pain. She had allowed herself to flit about like a child. Time after time, she was making mistakes in her judgment.

  “I am happy to see you, Constable. You certainly deserve a nice evening out and away from the strife of London’s crime,” she said.

  “Oh, I am hardly of any importance. I do not do much to help at the precinct. We do not see much crime other than petty theft. Your case is the most exciting we have had in a while. Until she was found, of course,” he said the last part in a low voice and Georgiana whipped her head around to make sure that her brother had not heard.

  “Sorry. I should not have said anything,” he said.

  “It is all right. Anyway, I do hope that you have a nice evening,” she said, wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible.

  “And you as well. I hope that none of those men you have been dancing with give you any difficulty,” he said.

  She looked at him with a placid smile, perfectly uncomfortable all over again.

  “No, not at all. They are all perfectly kind,” she said.

  “That is good. I do worry at times for young women such as yourself. I know what dreadful beasts men can be. Even if they do have a title or wealth,” he said.