Читать книгу Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 17
ОглавлениеDRAT THE MAN, Dany thought, standing in front of the pier glass in the hallway just outside the drawing room, slapping her gloves against her thigh. And drat Mari, so firmly sunk beneath the covers that it would take an expedition to find her.
Does one have one’s gloves on before her escort’s arrival? Does one appeared gloved and hatted and panting like a puppy eager to be put to the leash? Does one race back upstairs, only to descend—gracefully, of course—when the gentleman is announced? Which would be past ridiculous, since that would mean his horses would be left standing while he waited for her to become gloved and hatted and fill the awkward silence with inane chatter such as, “Oh, dear, how the time has flown,” or “Gracious, I had entirely forgotten I’d agreed to drive with you in the park.”
Whopping great help Mari had been, only lamenting, “For the love of heaven, why won’t she go away,” when Dany had sat herself on the bed and asked these questions.
So here she stood, still not gloved, although she’d decided the military-type shako might take more than one attempt to settle it jauntily enough over her right eye and finally donned it. Amazingly, with her hands trembling ever so slightly, she managed the perfect level of jaunty in one try.
Did Emmaline ride with her? Did she, hopefully not, plunk herself down on the seat between the baron and her mistress? If he brought an open town carriage, there would be two seats, and she could have the maid facing her—and watching her—for the entire time. And wouldn’t that be above all things wonderful, since Emmaline possessed an alarming tendency to giggle.
But no. Young gentlemen didn’t favor such equipages. He was bound to show up with some outlandish curricle, or high perch phaeton (and wouldn’t climbing up into that be interesting, while attempting to keep her ankles covered and her rump inconspicuous?). What about a tiger? Did the baron have one, some poor, terrified young lad in garish livery, balancing on a small step and hanging on to the back of the curricle for dear life? Did a tiger constitute a chaperone? Why would anyone need a chaperone in the middle of London, surrounded by everyone else in Society who had decided taking the air at Hyde Park was just the jolliest thing anyone could do at this hour?
Dany hadn’t had time to ask those questions of Mari, although she had tried, even as her sister’s maid was none too gently pushing her toward the door.
She’d ask Timmerly, but he’d only smirk at her in that obnoxious way he had, and make her feel twice the fool. Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d positioned his smug self at the head of the stairs, pretending not to notice her for the past ten minutes? Honestly, some kind soul should bundle up all the rules of Society in one...
“Blast! Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” she asked herself as she turned to the stairs, having remembered the thick tome her sister had handed her, commanding she commit every word to memory. The title, as she recalled, was nearly a small book in itself, and contained such words as Circumspection, Comportment, Proper. Dany had waited until Mari departed the room before kicking the offensive thing beneath the bed-skirts. Her big toe had hurt for three days.
She’d just put her hand on the railing when a footman called up, “Mr. Timmerly, sir, the hero baron has pulled to the curb. Miss shouldn’t keep such a fine pair of bays standing.”
“Miss Foster,” the curmudgeonly old family retainer intoned gravely, “if you’ll excuse my boldness, the foyer lies the other way.”
“You enjoy this, don’t you?” she accused as she headed for the curving staircase leading down to the foyer.
“You might wish to be more gentle with the countess, miss, now that she’s in a delicate condition.”
Dany halted with one foot already hovering over the first step, her right hand thankfully clutching the iron railing or she would have pitched face forward to the marble floor below. “My sister is not— Dear God, perhaps she is. It would be just like Mari not to know.” She looked at Timmerly. “What do you know?”
“It isn’t proper to discuss such things with young ladies.”
Dany’s mostly unpleasant day was growing worse by the moment. “It isn’t proper for young ladies to plant butlers a facer, either, but if you were to apply to any of my family they would inform you I’ve never put much stock in proper.”
The butler cleared his throat, clearly fighting a blush. “It is sufficient to say that Mrs. Timmerly is certain we’ll be welcoming the Cockermouth heir before the king’s birthday.”
Dany counted along her top teeth with her tongue until she got to nine (she might be young, but she wasn’t entirely stupid). “Oh, that isn’t good. That isn’t good at all.”
Timmerly straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “I beg your pardon!”
“Oh. Sorry. It’s the greatest of good news, isn’t it? The earl will be over the moon when he returns.” Unless he believes his wife had taken a lover. “I’ll be going now, not that you care a button what I do. Mustn’t keep the horses standing.”
The footman was just opening the door for the baron when Dany went flouncing past him. “You’re late,” she told him before he could say the same to her, which the briefest glance at his expression warned her he was about to do. “We’ve a new problem to discuss.”
“O happy day,” Cooper said, following after her, and then standing back to allow his tiger—really, the livery wasn’t so bad—to assist her up onto the seat of an admittedly fine yet sober curricle. No yellow wheels for the baron Townsend, clearly. And the bays were near to extraordinary.
“You’ve a lovely pair,” she admitted once he’d gone around the equipage and boosted himself onto the seat.
His look was nearly comical. “I beg your pardon?”
“The bays are lovely, perfectly matched,” she expounded further, wondering if the baron had possibly drunk away his afternoon. It wouldn’t do well for either of them if she had to explain everything twice. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“If I have, clearly not enough. Shall we be off?”
“I suppose so. The sooner we’re off, the sooner we’re back, which should please you enormously.”
“How well you know me, on such a short acquaintance,” Coop said as he set the curricle in motion, his tiger still standing on the flagway.
“I think you forgot someone,” Dany said, watching as the boy, no more than twelve, headed for the alleyway beside the mansion.
“Harry will go to the servants’ entrance and someone will feed him a cake or something. It’s all arranged. We’ve no need of a prepubescent chaperone, Miss Foster. We’ll be far from alone in the park.”
“Yes, I’d wondered about that. We’d look rather silly having to speak across my maid, plopped between us, her hands clapped to her ears. I really must read that book.”
“Whatever book it is, yes, please do tend to the task posthaste. I know you’re fresh from the country, but hasn’t your sister explained anything to you?”
“She’s been rather fully employed weeping into her pillow,” Dany said, at the moment not caring what the baron thought of her, or her sister. It was enough that he was here, apparently still willing to play the hero for them. Why, she’d nearly forgotten all about his green eyes. Nearly. “Which brings us to our new problem. The butler’s wife believes the countess may be increasing.”
He made an expert but not showy turn into Hyde Park, having executed the tricky maneuver of inserting the curricle into the line of various equipages without muss, fuss or banging wheels with anyone. The man was not flamboyant, not in his speech, his dress, his deportment. He was the unlikeliest hero she’d ever imagined in her daydreams. He was simply a man who stood up when necessary, and did heroic things. Perhaps it was not only his eyes...and blond locks, and strong chin line, and...and all the rest that drew her to him. She’d like to think so, or else that would make her no more than one of the giggling, sighing throng of females who probably chased him everywhere. How he must hate that!
“Really. Increasing what— Oh. Miss Foster, I don’t think this is anything you and I should be addressing. I’ll correct myself. I know it isn’t anything we should discuss. But since I have no doubt you’ll address it, anyway, is there a problem of...timing?”
“Oh, good. I was wondering how I might gracefully get around that part. Yes, I think so. Probably only Mrs. Timmerly knows for sure, since I believe Mari only just figured everything out today. So you see, my lord, it is now doubly important we seek out this blackmailer and recover her letters. Oliver must never know, can never so much as think he may have been, um...”
“Usurped? I can think of other words, although I’d rather not.”
She refused to blush. “I suppose that’s as clear as we need make that, thank you. I felt you should know, since we are working together.”
“We are? I don’t believe I’ve agreed to a partnership of any kind.”
Apparently men could be maddeningly thick. “Do you really have a choice?”
“I don’t? Please, enlighten me.”
“Yes, I should. In the interests of fairness, I feel it only fair to add that I don’t like you. I may admire you, and even find you somewhat attractive, but I don’t like you. You clearly resent that I’ve come to you for assistance, and you enjoy making me feel uncomfortable.”
“Tit for tat, Miss Foster. I haven’t had a comfortable moment since you threw yourself at me in Bond Street.”
“I did not—oh, now you’re smiling. I probably should look at you more often.”
“And be in my company far less,” he shot back. “What are you looking at, anyway? Clearly you aren’t paying attention to our fellow travelers on this road to nowhere, or you would have commented on something by now. There are many finely feathered birds taking the air today.”
“There are? Oh, goodness—is that man on the large gray actually sporting a parrot on his shoulder? How bizarre.”
“You have no idea, Miss Foster. One day I might tell you a rather amusing tale about the tethered and caged birds still being seen around Mayfair by those not clever enough to have realized the joke. Our feathered friends are no longer in fashion.”
“Yes, you do that.” Dany really didn’t much care either way about fashionable or unfashionable birds. “But no, I suppose I’m not really paying attention, am I? I suppose I thought the experience would have more to it than following everyone as they follow everyone else. What is the point, do you know?”
“The point, my fine country miss, is to see. And to be seen. You, for instance, are being seen in the company of the hero of Quatre Bras and a dozen wholly fictitious escapades of derring-do here in London. Even now, people are whispering to their companions. Who is she? Did he rescue her? Is she an heiress? Should we stop and ask, or would the hero take offense at our blatant curiosity? What to do, what to do.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Most things are, Miss Foster. But remember, this was your idea.”
Dany thought about that for a few moments. “You’re right. It was my idea. I thought it would be interesting. I thought I would get to show off my new bonnet, which I couldn’t do because I cut my hair and now even this shako had to be stuffed with paper so it didn’t fall down over my ears. I used to have tons of it, you know.”
“Paper? Or hair?”
“Hair, of course. I grew it for years, on my mother’s orders. Do you have any idea how much trouble hair can be?”
“Not exactly, no. Is it as much trouble as having to stuff your bonnets with paper?”
Dany looked at him and grinned. “The bonnets are temporary. The hair was permanent. Or at least it was. By and large, I think what’s left is rather fetching. Certainly different.”
“Ah, yes, different. I believe that relieves me from having to ask why in blue blazes you hacked it all off. The color wasn’t enough?”
“You don’t care for the color?”
“Over the centuries, man has learned there is no safe answer to that sort of question, so I’ll pretend you didn’t ask it. Look here, Miss Foster, this is getting us nowhere, and we’ve much to discuss. For my sins.”
His voice had rather trailed off on his last few words, but Dany heard them. “And what sins did you commit? I know I didn’t commit any. Well, at least not connected to the pot my sister is boiling in at the moment. I’m not declaring myself free of failings.”
Cooper exited the park as neatly as he’d entered it, putting the curricle back out on the street. “I hope you won’t mind if I don’t chivalrously exclaim that you could never be anything less than perfect.”
“And now I’ll ignore that. You know, my lord, I believe we’re beginning to understand each other.”
He kept his attention on his horses, but she did notice that his right eyebrow elevated in possible surprise. Certainly not in humor. “Does that prospect frighten you as much as it does me?” he asked as he took the bays into a turn down a rather narrow street.
“I don’t know. At least neither of us has to waste our time or words in attempting to be polite. Which, you must admit, can only be considered a good thing, because we really don’t have time to waste on conventions and silly rules of Society. Oliver will be home in less than a fortnight.”
“I agree on the need for speed. The blackmailer’s next communication could arrive at any moment.”
“Yes, which means you need to reconsider the vantage point of my bedchamber. Where are we going? I’ve no fear you plan to compromise me, but if you have a destination in mind I suggest it not be Portman Square, as we still have much to discuss.”
“More than you could imagine, Miss Foster,” he said, pulling to the curb in front of a rather ancient-looking church stuck between a haberdashery and a tobacco shop. He set the brake and looped the reins around it. “Stay where you are until I come ’round and help you down. I only say that because you haven’t read the book yet, whatever book that might be, and shouldn’t attempt a descent on your own.”
“It’s not as if I couldn’t do it, you know.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment. Just...don’t.”
She twisted about on the seat to watch as he walked behind the curricle, already tossing a coin to a young lad who had appeared out of nowhere to offer to “mind the ponies” for him.
“Perhaps you should have rethought the tiger,” she said as she allowed him to assist her to the uneven flagway. It wasn’t quite the same as being swooped up into his arms, but the touch of his hands at her waist while she rested hers on his shoulders for that brief moment wasn’t exactly a distant second in how it affected her heartbeat.
If only Mari would climb out of her latest pit of despair; Dany really did have a few important questions for her.
“Tigers are for show, unless one employs an aging pugilist, and they don’t look all that well in livery. Harry and his livery wouldn’t last a moment in this neighborhood. You failed to tell me, Miss Foster. Do you possess any other talents save pickpocketing?”
She brought herself back from her new, unexpected curiosity concerning All Things Cooper. “That’s not fair. The chapbook was mine. I was only retrieving it. What sort of talents?”
“Playacting. I’ve every hope you’ll have no problem with a bit of fibbing.”
Dany tipped up her chin. “I may have found the need in the past, yes. A fib is often more kind than the truth. Especially when one’s mother asks unfortunate questions.”
“Very good. Steadfast and upright honesty would do us no good at the moment.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we remove ourselves from the sight of passersby?”
Oh, we most certainly shall, Dany thought, quickly understanding that she should not be where she was, certainly not with him. They were in the process of being clandestine. What a lovely word—clandestine. How could she have, even for a moment, thought the baron was a sobersides? What fun!
“This chapel is no longer in use except for occasional weddings, but the frescoes are said to be in remarkably good repair. Aunt Mildred said we should not fail to see them before leaving London.”
Aunt Mildred? Ah, so the fibbing had begun.
“Then how bad of you, for not telling me to bring my sketching pad. You always were a bit of a loose screw, Cousin Mortimer. Just for that, I believe I’ll insist in inspecting every single fresco in some detail, and you’ll be stuck chaperoning me for at least another hour before you can cry off and go chasing down your highly unsuitable friends.”
Bless the baron’s heroic heart. He winked at her! She’d get him to understand she would be more of a help than a hindrance.
They mounted the six steps to a pair of heavily carved wooden doors, pausing only as Cooper handed over a penny to the old man sitting on a wooden stool, curiously not showing any hint of curiosity upon seeing customers so late in the day.
“You always were a bit of a pill, Cousin Gertrude,” he responded in just the correct tone of cousinly disgust as the old man creaked to his feet to push open one of the doors. “Next you’ll say you want me to bring you back again tomorrow, and I won’t. Not if you beg.”
The old man cleared his throat. “There be sheets of paper and charcoal sticks inside, miss, for those who wish to take rubbings from some of the tombstones out back. Some lovely old stones we’ve got, we do. Only a penny for five.”
Dany turned her most winning smile on the caretaker. “Why, thank you, good sir. Cousin, don’t just stand there like the fool you are. Give the man a penny.”
“Going to use them to stuff more bonnets?” Cooper asked, reaching into his small purse. “Here you go, sir, a six-pence. We’d rather not be disturbed.”
“None of them never does,” the old man grumbled, shaking his head as he returned to his stool as Cooper grabbed her hand and pulled her inside before she could ask the old man what he meant.
The door had barely closed before Dany turned on him, laughing. “Did you hear that? This place is used for assignations, isn’t it? The man as nearly said that. Do you take advantage of this chapel often?”
Still clasping her hand, for there were only a few candles burning and the stained-glass windows didn’t let in much light, he led her to a bench placed against one wall. “I thought I was being original, as a matter of fact. Here, sit down. You lie too easily for my comfort, Gertrude.”
“Gertie. I much prefer Gertie. So you don’t think the caretaker believed either of us?”
“Do you?”
Dany thought about that for a moment. “I’m not certain. I wouldn’t want to be thought of as a loose woman. Or as someone as silly as my sister, who probably would have thought trysting with her unknown admirer in an ancient chapel the epitome of romantic expression. Of course, in either case, you’re the rotter of the piece. Shame on you.”
The baron sat down beside her. “You don’t have a single nerve in your body, do you?”
“I don’t think so, no,” she said as every last nerve in said body commenced to tingle at his closeness. Not that he’d ever know that. “Papa vows I was a cuckoo hatchling. You do know about cuckoo birds, don’t you? They lay their eggs in other bird’s nests? If my great-aunt Isobel on my father’s side hadn’t had my same outrageous hair color, I believe Mama would have had considerable explaining to do. And don’t look at me like that. Yes, that’s how I know so much about...usurping. My brother explained it all to me. So, now can we get down to business? What time do you want me to meet you at the tradesman’s entrance? Timmerly locks all the doors at midnight, but I managed to find an extra key for the side door that leads to the kitchens. It will be a simple matter of Emmaline letting you in, and sneaking you up the servant stairs.”
“I will not sneak into your bedchamber.”
“Oh, but I’ve already explained this to you. And we’ve already agreed that time is of the essence. Nobody will be any the wiser, and Emmaline can be discreet. There’s no other way.”
“Unfortunately, there is. Now listen carefully, Miss Foster, as we are limited for time.”
“So formal? We’re conspirators now. Please, address me as Dany. It’s so much easier.”
“And yet the clock continues ticking, Miss Foster,” the baron said tightly, the look in his green eyes one of frustration bordering on contemplated mayhem, if Dany was any judge, and she was, having been the recipient of that particular look from members of her family time and again in her growing-up years (and at least twice today).
“Ticktock, ticktock. Yes, I understand, even as I wonder if you do. Go on.”
“I’ll ignore that. Here are the rules. One—there can be no clandestine surveillance nests set up in your bedchamber. Not by me, not by you, not by any combination that includes you, me or any number of other persons, none of which would be considered a chaperone by any stretch of the imagination.”
“Not even the Archbishop of Canterbury?” Dany couldn’t resist. He was so handsome in his frustration. If he were her brother, he could box her ears or some such thing. But he wasn’t, and he was forced by Society to treat her as a young lady of quality. Pity she didn’t know how to behave like a young lady of quality.
Or perhaps she did; she’d certainly had years of lessons behind her. She simply didn’t see the point, when misbehaving was so much more fun.
“We’ll leave that question for the moment,” he said tersely. “Two. I did not ask for this assignment, I did not seek it out, I don’t want it—but you and your crackbrained scheming has put me in this position. That said, and in words with the least syllables, I am in sole charge of what we do to aid the countess.”
All right. Now he was ruffling her feathers. She clasped her hands and pressed them to her bosom, and then fluttered her eyelashes for good measure as she goaded: “My hero. I do fear I might swoon.”
At last, he smiled. If he was a sobersides, at least she seemed to have found a way through to his appreciation of the ridiculous. “Please don’t let me stop you. I’m certain there’s some water in that vase of wilting posies over there. Dumping its contents on your paper-stuffed head would count as my only pleasure since I woke up this morning.”
Hmm. Perhaps he wasn’t as amused as she’d thought, but was only delighting in contemplating a bit of revenge on her for all she’d put him through. Which was probably a lot, all things considered.
“Clearly entirely on the wrong side of the bed.” Dany knew to retreat when she’d gone too far—she’d certainly traveled to that point often enough. “Very well, I’m sorry. No more interrupting. You’re doing Mari and me a huge favor and I’ve given you nothing but grief in return. But,” she added, because with Dany there was always a but somewhere, “you really needn’t be so mean. I’m only trying to help.”
The baron stood up, walked a few paces away from the bench and then turned to look at her. “I know, and that’s what makes what I have to say even more difficult. You think you’re helpful. Let me correct myself. You’re positive you’d be helpful. Tell me, how much the worse would it be for me if I didn’t include you in my plans?”
She got to her feet, applauding softly. “I knew you’d be brilliant, my lord. Never before has anyone asked that question.”
“Although they certainly did get an answer?” he asked her, another smile actually beginning to evidence itself at the corners of his mouth.
That was a rough patch gotten over neatly.
“Indeed, yes, they did. I’m afraid I’m not a thing like Mari, or my mother, or most women for that matter. I cannot fathom dutifully tending to my embroidery when something important is afoot. It’s against my nature. Sitting and waiting, perhaps sending up prayers in some chapel such as this one, with nothing to say about the outcome, would drive me mad.”
“I’m after a petty blackmailer, Miss Foster, not marching off to the Crusades with your colors tied to my sleeve.”
Oh, but if it were and if you did, I’d follow you without an instant’s hesitation. With that thought came a blush that was the bane of her red-haired existence. Perhaps she was more like Mari than she’d considered. “Don’t be facetious, my lord. But now that we’ve gotten that settled, what are we going to do next? And please don’t say we’ll be adding the viscount to our hunting party. I don’t believe he would approach the problem with as much gravitas as I would like.”
“He said you’d say that. But I’m afraid we may not have much choice. You might want to sit down again, Miss Foster.”
“I’ll stand, thank you.”
“Very well, I suppose I can allow you to be stubborn when it makes no difference to me. We still do this with the understanding that I am in charge of anything over and above whether you choose to sit down or stand up. Agreed?”
“If I have no choice. Go on.”
“That said, being in charge, it naturally follows that you’ll be taking orders from me. You are not to circumvent those orders, you are not to improvise, you are most definitely not to question those orders. You are not to think up anything you believe to be a better solution than mine and go off on your own, leaving me to chase after you and pick up the pieces.”
Yes, he already knew her very well. How had that happened? Did she have a warning sign pasted to her forehead, that only he could see?
“I hesitate to point this out, but you’re sounding more like a tyrant than a hero. That said, I suppose I still agree, since it’s clear you’re leaving me no other choice if you’re ever going to get on with this. That ticking clock, remember?”
“How you inspire my confidence, Miss Foster. Unfortunately, it has been pointed out to me, rather strongly, that I also have no choice where you’re concerned. You see, Miss Foster, your sister is not the only person being blackmailed. I, too, am a victim of your sister’s secret admirer.”
Dany sat down. She sat down so quickly she nearly missed the bench entirely, but grabbed on to the front of it with both hands. “I... I beg your— What did you say?”
The baron raised his eyes toward the chipped, painted ceiling of the chapel, as if running his own words through his head for a second time. “Our mutual blackmailer is extorting money from the countess for her innocent indiscretion, and from me via threats that need not concern you. That’s clear enough.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t think it is. Are you less than a hero?”
“I’m not a hero at all, having only done what seemed sensible at the time. If not for those damnable chapbooks, I would be on my new estate now, learning how to grow turnips, Quatre Bras far behind me and forgotten.” He ran his fingers through his hair, probably in disgust, but Dany thought the gesture charming. “I’m sorry. There’s no need for you to know why I’m being blackmailed, other than to say I’m certain the same person is harassing your sister, and probably many more than the two of us.”
“Why would you think that?”
The baron sat down beside her once more and explained his theory, and that of the viscount, putting forward the idea that the blackmailer had cultivated an entire list of victims, and not without some help from those he may have recruited to ferret out secrets.
“Servants, barmaids, shopkeepers. His most probable allies would be establishments in Bond Street, businesses frequented by the ton.”
“Shopkeepers? In Bond Street?” Dany whispered, and shivered. “No, she was entirely helpful. Or was that too helpful? But she did hang about on the other side of the curtain, and send Mari’s maid away. And to be so handy with an answer? Oh, how could I have been so stupid!”
“Are you enjoying this conversation you’re having with yourself? Apparently not, would be my guess. I gather you’re considering a shopkeeper in particular?”
Now it was Dany’s turn to get up and pace. “I am, yes. The woman owns a small but thriving seamstress shop, and just as you said, in Bond Street. She had her ear to the curtain the whole time Mari and I were speaking in private this morning, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. She gave me the chapbook, hinting broadly that what my sister needed was a hero. You, in particular. She...she also told us Mari’s increasing.”
“Dare I even ask how the woman would know that?” the baron asked, also getting to his feet. He was all attention now, and clearly anxious to hear more.
“She didn’t. I mean, she told us she thought Mari was—although we didn’t say she was—but now we know she was right. So what if she’s in the employ of that horrible blackmailer and now he knows even more to dangle over Mari’s head. She certainly can’t be expected to suffer any more than she is now and still be healthy for the— We have to do something.” She grabbed his hand. “The shops are still open, aren’t they? Come on, we need to hurry.”
Cooper looked down at their clasped hands. “Well, that lasted longer than I thought. Possibly even a full minute.”
“What do you—oh.” Dany released her grip even as she gave him a sheepish smile. “I forgot?”
“I understand completely, Miss Foster. It’s not difficult to forget what you’d already chosen not to remember.”
“That’s not amusing. I was... I was overcome with worry, that’s all. What if I’ve inadvertently made things even worse for Mari?”
“She picked up the spade and began digging long before you were involved,” Cooper pointed out, which served to mollify Dany, if only a little.
“I suppose you’re right. I only arrived in town a few days ago.”
“Which explains your ignorance about Gabe’s birds. I’m rather glad you missed that.”
“There you go about the birds again. If they’re not germane to the current topic, and I’m certain they’re not, may we please return to the point? Mari is being blackmailed. And then there’s you, and even more if you’re correct. How many holes do you think have been dug across Mayfair?”
“Dozens would be my guess. Perhaps several dozens. Not that we can approach anyone and ask.”
“That would be rather difficult, I agree. ‘Good evening, my lord. Are you by chance looking so down at the mouth because you’re being blackmailed to keep your wife from learning you’ve replaced her diamonds with paste?’”
Cooper smiled. “I can’t think of a swifter way to get my nose relocated to the back of my head.”
“And Mrs. Yothers, the dress shop owner? We can’t approach her, either?”
For a heartbeat, no more, it would have seemed the baron had been turned into a statue. “Did you say Mrs. Yothers?”
“I did,” Dany returned, tipping her head as she looked up at him. “Why? Do you know the name?”
“I’ve heard it mentioned, yes. Quite recently, as a matter of fact. I suppose that settles the thing—there’s no getting out of it now. I was going to suggest we leave, but I think you’d better sit down again.”
“Really? No getting out of what now? And we’ve already been here a good quarter hour. Even a sad country looby like me knows we’ve overreached at least a few bounds of propriety even by being here in the first place. Do you think it prudent to stay longer?”
“Under the circumstances, I’m no longer concerned, no.”
“What circumstances?”
“Damn it, Dany—sit down.”
“Well,” she said, positively grinning at him, “since you asked so kindly, I suppose I probably will.”
Oh, how wonderfully and darkly green his eyes went when he wanted to throttle her. He was so sweet...
