Читать книгу The Regency Season: Passionate Promises: The Duke's Daring Debutante / Return of the Prodigal Gilvry - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 12

Chapter Four

The drive to London Bridge remained starkly silent, with Freddy apparently too engrossed in managing his team in the press of traffic for conversation. Or too annoyed with her prevarication. Not that the streets were quiet. Indeed, they bustled with people and carriages, assaulting hearing, sight and each indrawn breath. The cacophony of colour, noise and smells became more intense as they drove east. A stench of manure, rotting vegetables and overcrowding battled with the noise of street vendors and vehicles of every kind.

It took more than an hour to reach London Bridge and make their way to Southwark.

‘Now where?’ he asked, with his usual chilly reserve and an expression she was sure was designed to keep her at a distance. Her and the rest of the world.

‘Aren’t you going to ask for the address?’

‘I have no doubt you will tell me when you are ready. I have no doubt that it will be located among the worst of the slums. You have a penchant for going where no lady should tread.’

A jibe at her presence at his club. So there was to be no quarter given between them. Not that she had really expected it. Not when he still thought she had trapped him on purpose. She almost wished she had, then she wouldn’t feel quite so aggrieved, since she could not deny that this engagement suited her purpose admirably. But his anger and distrust gave her a miserable feeling. They had never been friends, but now they were going to have to spend a great deal of time in each other’s company, and it would be better if they could at least be cordial.

‘The house we seek lies behind St George’s Church,’ she said.

His mouth tightened but he continued along Borough High Street. As they proceeded, the buildings on either side of the street became meaner and the road muddy and ill maintained.

‘When we arrive, let me do the talking,’ she said.

‘So I am to remain silent and pay the bill.’ He sounded less than pleased.

She turned in her seat the better to see his face. ‘This family has not been well treated since their arrival in England. They are bourgeoisie. They gave up much to follow the king and feel they have been abandoned.’ There were a goodly number of French families living in Southwark who were scratching out the most meagre of livings in the worst of circumstances. ‘They no longer trust the English to treat them right.’

‘And you think they will trust you?’

She gripped her hands in her lap. ‘I don’t know. I do know they want their king back in France so they can return home. If they believe this will help, then perhaps, yes.’

‘Very well, I’ll remain silent. As long as you don’t promise them the moon.’

It was a warning he would not let her make promises he could not keep. Fair enough.

‘Turn onto Mint Street.’

‘You may as well give me the address,’ he said, throwing her a glance of suppressed anger.

He was right to be angry. She could not continue to treat him as if she didn’t trust him, even if good sense advised caution. She needed his help. ‘Well’s Court. They are expecting us.’

‘How do you know people living in Well’s Court?’

She winced at his harsh tone. ‘Through my maid, who I found by talking to the parish priest. We émigrés help our own whenever possible.’

He halted at the entrance to a small alley. He glanced up at the surrounding buildings and around at the loiterers in the street. He gestured at one of them who lounged over to them. ‘M’sieur?’

He tossed the man a silver coin. ‘Mind the horses. There’s another for you when we return.’

The man’s eyes brightened. He touched his forelock and went to the horses’ heads.

‘Will they be safe?’ she asked.

‘It’s a little late to be thinking of that.’

* * *

Freddy guided Minette through the narrow entrance to the court, surreptitiously checking the small pistol he had tucked into his waistband at the small of his back. He also had a dagger in his boot. Barker, who had been instructed to follow them, would be somewhere nearby. He doubted all these precautions would be needed—it was, after all, broad daylight—but it didn’t pay to take chances. Not if he wanted to survive. The contrast between the wealth of Mayfair and the poverty of this area was a stark reminder of the desperation of some of London’s people. He placed his hand in the small of her back, ensuring that anyone watching would know he took her safety seriously.

A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Minette thought she was in control. In the not-too-distant future she was going to discover he had no intention of involving her in the capture of Moreau. If Gabe knew he’d gone this far, bringing her to such a dangerous part of town, he’d be stringing Freddy up by his thumbs. No, after today, she would discover herself on the sidelines. He would not let her put herself in danger.

A small, ragged boy sitting on a step in front of one of the tenements leapt to his feet the moment they set foot in the courtyard at the end of the alley. He approached warily.

‘You are here for Madame Vitesse?’ His English was carefully spoken. Not the accent of the local people, but that of a well-tutored boy.

‘We are,’ Minette replied.

‘Follow me, if you please.’ The boy led them into the building and up a set of rickety stairs to the third floor. On the landing he opened one of several doors. He reverted to his mother tongue as he spoke to the occupant. ‘Maman, they are here.’

A woman of about thirty with hard eyes and a careworn face appeared in the doorway. The look she gave Freddy reminded him of an animal preparing to defend its young, then she turned her attention to Minette. ‘You are Christine’s mistress?’

‘I am.’

‘This is your fiancé? The Duke?’

‘I am,’ Freddy said.

‘Come in. We will discuss the matter between us.’

They sat down on a pair of rickety wooden chairs, while their hostess took a stool. She glanced up at the boy. ‘See we are not disturbed.’

The boy closed the door, shutting himself outside.

‘Christine said you might be able to help us in our search for a certain man,’ Minette said.

‘For a price,’ the woman said.

‘How much?’ Freddy asked. ‘And how can we be sure you have the information we need?’

Minette glared at him. He ignored it. If she thought he was going to sit here like a bump on the proverbial log, she should have known better.

The woman rolled her shoulders. ‘You cannot be sure, but this man you seek is as much my enemy as he is yours. If not for him and his like, my husband would be alive and I would be living in Paris.’

‘We understand, madame,’ Minette said gently. ‘You have lost much. I would like to help you as well as find the man we seek. We will pay what is reasonable for the information.’

The woman’s expression contained resentment. ‘I am not asking for charity, mademoiselle. The chance to make a decent living, to bring up my son in a good home, not this...’ she shuddered, glancing around her ‘...this rat-infested room, surrounded by criminals who are allowed to wander the streets.’

Many of the criminals were debtors, allowed the freedom of Borough as long as they did not step outside set boundaries, but there were other sorts of criminals here, too, as there were in all the poorer neighbourhoods of London.

‘Name your price,’ Freddy said. ‘And we will see if the information you have is worth it.’

‘I personally do not have the information you seek,’ the woman said.

Freddy looked up at the ceiling, a plea for divine intervention. None came. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘Freddy,’ Minette said in a warning. ‘Who does, madame?’

‘My brother. He hides where you will not find him until our demands are met.’

‘Your brother,’ Freddy said. ‘His name is Vitesse?’

‘No.’

Of course not. The woman was a widow, using her married name. To find her brother he’d need her maiden name. No doubt the Alien Office would have collected that when they had permitted her to take up residence in England.

Minette also looked unhappy with the woman’s reply. ‘You told Christine you had information about Moreau.’

The woman tensed. ‘Henri is afraid. He wants to help, but if this man finds out...’ She pressed her lips together. ‘He needs to know, if anything happens to him, that I will be cared for. It is his duty as the head of our household. It is a small thing to ask.’

‘What is it you want?’ Minette asked with a very practical tone to her voice.

‘Christine says you are to be married. To this Duke.’ She nodded at Freddy. ‘You will need a trousseau of the finest.’

Freddy frowned, but Minette was smiling. ‘You are a seamstress.’

The other woman nodded. ‘I do fine work. You will see.’ She raised her voice. ‘Lilly!’

A girl of around eight peered around the open door. ‘Oui, Maman?’

‘Bring them,’ the woman commanded.

The child disappeared and returned a moment later, struggling to carry in her arms what looked like three dolls. Madame Vitesse took them from the girl and stood them up on the table. ‘This is my work.’

Dolls?

‘Oh,’ Minette breathed, fingering the fabric of the doll’s gown. ‘This is beautiful. I have seen nothing like it in London. Look, Freddy, isn’t it exquisite?’

Really? He narrowed his eyes at the doll. The dress was some fancy silky stuff, and it revealed quite a bit of the doll’s shape above the neckline. Revelation came like a flash. He’d seen something like it in his mother’s drawing room as a boy. ‘They are dressmaker’s dolls.’

Both women looked at him as if he was a dolt.

‘You see, mademoiselle,’ the woman said, ‘I was just beginning my business in Paris. I had left my old mistress to start on my own. I had one very important client, a woman at Court. She would have made my name but—’ She made a chopping motion with her hand. ‘There was nothing. No work. No food. Everything we had we left behind.’ Tears welled in her brown eyes. ‘Family. Money. Everything. Henri was positive we could start again. But for that I need a patron. I have no contacts here in England. No money for a shop. For fabric.’

‘So if we give you money to open a shop, you will tell us what we want to know.’

The woman’s face hardened. She shook her head. ‘That is only part of it. You will wear the gowns. Go to parties. Talk of my work. Then I will give you the information you seek.’

She was using them. Imposing on Minette in the worst possible way. Anger surged in Freddy’s veins. He rose to his feet and glared at the woman, who seemed to shrink in her chair. ‘That will take weeks. I am sorry, madame, but there are other ways to obtain this information.’

‘Freddy is right,’ Minette said also rising. ‘We do not have time—’

‘Two weeks,’ the woman said, her face white, her voice weak, scared. ‘I can do it all in two weeks.’ She glanced over at her daughter. ‘Please. For the sake of my children.’

‘Not a day over two weeks,’ Minette said.

‘No,’ Freddy said. ‘That is too long to have him running freely around England.’

The woman’s eyes became crafty, as if she sensed she could drive a wedge between them and come out a winner. ‘The man you seek, he has much to do before he is ready. You will not want him alone. You will want his web.’ She nodded. ‘Web. That is what Henri called it. Move too soon and you will cut off the head, but you will not have the body.’

‘If she’s right...’ Minette said, looking at him.

He clenched his jaw so hard he felt his back teeth give. ‘If she’s lying, her children will be orphans.’

A satisfied smile crossed the Frenchwoman’s face. Clearly she did not believe the threat any more than Minette did, because she was shaking the woman’s hand. ‘It is a bargain.’

Freddy reached into the pocket in his coat. ‘How much do you need to get you started?’

The woman’s eyes gleamed. ‘A hundred pounds. It will rent the shop and the accommodation above and buy enough fabric for the first gown.’ She narrowed her eyes, her gaze running over Minette. ‘A carriage gown like this one,’ she said, picking up the doll dressed in green velvet with fancy decoration down the front. ‘Are you to attend a ball soon?’

‘My engagement ball is in a couple of weeks,’ Minette said. ‘Many important people will attend. It is to be held at my fiancé’s estate in Kent.’

The woman beamed. ‘You shall wear my gown.’

‘Understand this, madame,’ Freddy said. ‘If this delay causes me to fail in my task to find this man, you will not like the consequences.’

The woman’s gaze flew to Minette and back to him. ‘I assure you all will be well.’ She picked up a small cloth bag at her feet and pulled out a bunch of string. ‘I will measure now and send a note to say when I will come to you for a fitting. Then we will choose the fabric for the rest of the gowns. Please, stand and I will help you unclothe.’

Minette rose and turned her back to the woman. ‘Freddy, please. Madame Vitesse will help us.’

Madame Vitesse was helping her all right. Helping her to be naked.

Freddy’s body tightened at the thought of seeing her wearing nothing but little bits of string. Inwardly cursing, he turned his back. ‘Hurry up. I don’t want to keep my horses waiting any longer than is needed.’

A low laugh from Minette said she didn’t believe his impatience for a moment.

It must have been the hoarseness in his voice.

* * *

‘That went excellently well,’ Freddy said, once they were back on the road. ‘The woman gulled you. Gowns.’ He snorted.

The derisive edge in his voice brought Minette straighter in her seat. ‘It could have been worse.’

‘I suppose it could. She could have asked me to dress every lady in the ton.’

‘You are being a bear. This way you will get both him and his men.’

He grunted. ‘If I didn’t know better, I might think she knew about this betrothal of ours before we did.’

She winced. ‘About that. As soon as we have dealt with Moreau, we will announce our engagement is at an end.’

He sent her a look full of disgust. ‘And how do you propose to do that?’

‘I’ll cry off.’

‘Wonderful. Tell me what other schemes there are floating around in that lovely head of yours.’

‘There is no need for sarcasm.’

‘I’m not being sarcastic. I simply want to know what I am in for next.’

Why was he arguing about this? He had made it quite clear he didn’t want to wed her any more than she did him. Contrary man. No matter what she said, he would argue. And yet... She frowned. ‘Are you saying you actually want this marriage?’

The glance he gave her was full of exasperation and something else. Bleakness? Loneliness? ‘I’m saying we don’t have a choice. What about Gabe and your sister? If you don’t care about anyone else, what about their sensibilities?’

‘I will simply inform them we discovered we did not suit after all.’

His chest rose and fell with a huge sigh. A man tried to the limit of his patience. She braced for his next assault. It wasn’t long in coming. ‘After what Sparshott and his daughter saw, your reputation will be ruined, Minette. Those things don’t go away. There will be no decent men throwing their hats in the ring. Not after that. You need the protection of my name.’

For a man who had been so set against marrying, his insistence was odd. Something inside her twisted painfully. Longing. Surely not. The man was marrying her to preserve his honour. Using her for his own purposes, as Pierre had used her. She wasn’t fool enough to think it could possibly be more. ‘I don’t want to get married. To you or anyone else. You don’t even like me.’ Dash it, why had she given voice to that little bit of resentment?

‘I don’t dislike you.’ His voice was arctic.

‘In truth? When you think I planned to trap you into marrying me?’

He winced. ‘I beg your pardon. I am as much to blame as you for what happened.’

She gasped theatrically. ‘Are you actually apologising?’

‘Now who is being sarcastic?’

She laughed. ‘Touché, Your Grace.’

He smiled, albeit a little unwillingly and fleetingly. Still, it made her heart feel a little lighter to see his expression ease. He looked much younger, more approachable. Perhaps... But no. She was right. When this was over they would part company. Because when this was over, even his honour wouldn’t be enough to make him want her as his wife.

A pang twisted in her chest. ‘Let us see how we feel about it once Moreau is caught.’

He looked unconvinced but resigned, and that was the best she could hope for.