Читать книгу Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Louise Allen - Страница 21
ОглавлениеDANY WAS STILL sunk in a sulk as she and Coop walked along the Bond Street flagway. What a mess she’d made, believing herself to be so brilliant.
But she did love the ring.
Not that it was hers, not really.
Although it could be.
But only because Cooper Townsend was a gentleman, and a man of his word. A hero, who insisted he was not a hero.
Not that she’d hold him to their supposed compromise and proposal. They would find the blackmailer. Coop would give him a good thrashing and suggest an ocean voyage, perhaps to India. She’d worry that another man might eliminate the blackmailer in a more permanent way, but not Coop. Still, the man would get the message! They would retrieve and then promptly burn Mari’s letters; the damning chapbook would never be published; and Coop’s secrets would remain safe and his head continue to ride secure on his neck, the Prince Regent or whomever never the wiser that some deep dark secret was nearly spilled all over London.
And then it would be over. Coop would go his way, and she would go hers.
Maybe they could remain friends...
Suddenly she wasn’t walking anymore, because Coop had halted, nearly pulling her to a stop when she continued on, not noticing.
“Whoa,” he teased. “Are you ready?”
She looked up at Coop, realizing she’d been concentrating her gaze on the flagway and the tips of her shoes each time she took a step, just as if fascinated by the sheer action of locomotion. How far had they walked? A block? Six? Were they even still on Bond Street?
“Uh, um, where are we?”
“I’m standing a short distance from Mrs. Yothers’s dress shop. I don’t know where you are, although I will say you’ve been the object of some curiosity from passersby, as you so neatly cut everyone dead while I was apologetically tipping to my hat to all and sundry.”
Dany looked to her left and right, feeling her cheeks flushing. “I was...woolgathering?”
“Circling the moon might be more to the point. Not that I’m complaining. I find I like a peaceful woman.”
“Then you’ll have to look elsewhere, my lord,” she shot back, still angry with herself, “for I’m feeling far from peaceful. It’s my own fault, I know that. Only Mari should be Mari. I should be myself. As myself, perhaps I would have realized the stone was too extraordinarily beautiful to be less than— Stop smiling. I’m serious about this. I’ve bankrupted you.”
“You’re forgetting Minerva’s discount.”
“Yes, your mother. But I’m afraid I don’t understand a Minerva discount.”
“Birdwell, and several others, realized that being able to say they’ve won the custom of the hero of Quatre Bras could do wonders for their business. If they didn’t realize it, Minerva pointed the fact out to them. And before you say anything else, yes, I was appalled when I learned what she’d done.” He smiled at her. “Admittedly no longer quite as appalled as I was before you set eyes on that emerald, as she wrangled a fifty percent discount from the man. Now, are you ready to step inside and be delighted to see your new friend Clarice? We’re already late, which means it might be Rigby who’s in danger of being bankrupted.”
“You still haven’t told me what this is all about, and why I’m meeting her.”
“I know. I want you to be surprised, and react genuinely. Don’t worry, Clarice knows what to do.”
“But it’s better that I don’t?”
“See that? I was certain you’d understand. Good girl. Shall we?”
Dany was close to grinding her teeth. “Do I have a choice?”
“You’ll always have a choice, Dany,” he said, suddenly and unexpectedly serious. “That’s a promise.”
“Oh. Oh, my,” she said, attempting to catch her breath. “I wasn’t expecting that.” Then she wrinkled up her nose, realizing what she’d said. “That is, I mean...” she rushed to say. “I mean, we’re talking about...about the— What are we talking about, Coop?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, tipping up her chin. “I just suddenly felt a need to say the words. And perhaps to bring my mind back to the matter at hand, as you’ve managed to distract me from our mutually pressing problems. How do you do that?”
Dany wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know. I don’t set out to do it. Is there anything special that, um, that distracts you?”
“You,” Coop said, a rather rueful half smile causing her to catch her breath. “I could enumerate at some other time, with much less of an audience, but for now? For now, Miss Daniella Foster, you. Just you, being you.”
“Oh.” Her voice was nearly inaudible. Her world seemed to be tipping on its axis, and she felt her body begin to move toward his, drawn to him by the intensity in his eyes. Nor did he seem unaffected, or even aware of where they were.
Wasn’t that...interesting.
“There you are! You’re late.”
Dany shook her head as both she and Coop turned to see Rigby coming toward them from the direction of the dress shop, his cheeks flushed, very nearly splotched.
“My pardon, friend,” Coop said. “How late are we?”
“Two bonnets and a reticule late, I’d say,” he told them, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his brow. “Miss Foster,” he said, belatedly acknowledging her with a slight bow. “That is, Dany. If you would be so kind as to join Clarice in the shop? And possibly talk her out of the reticule? It’s fairly drowning in pearls, you understand.”
“Surely not real pearls.”
“I don’t know,” the baronet told her. “She wants to bite one, to see for certain, but I’ve so far talked her into waiting for you, as I’ve told her you’re an expert on pearls. Please.”
It was good to laugh, and Dany wanted to give Rigby a kiss on the cheek for taking her mind away from all the many dangerous areas it had traveled to in the moments since Coop had turned so suddenly serious.
“I don’t want to be seen just yet. Therefore, having happily encountered Rigby here, you sent your maid to the coach to unburden herself of the bandboxes containing your purchases, while he offered to escort you to meet with your friend Clarice,” Coop told her, nodding his head in the direction of Mrs. Yothers’s establishment. “Are you ready? Time to go.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” she asked, not all that happily. Why on earth did she say he could take the reins into his hands? She’d have to correct that at some point, she supposed, although it probably didn’t matter, since they would soon part ways from their sham engagement. Did he already know how he was going to do that? “I could have made up my own fib, you know.”
“Next time,” Coop said. “Perhaps we can take turns.”
“Now you’re being facetious again. Not that I won’t hold you to that suggestion. After all, we may get along, but that doesn’t mean we, well, we get along, if you know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, Dany, I believe I do. We’re playing at a sort of game, aren’t we? And it’s not always mutually enjoyable. But all games have an end.” He tipped his hat at her, turned and walked off down the flagway, away from the shop.
And now he’s frowning, and probably second-or even third-guessing this ridiculous arrangement, from the ring to the kiss...and beyond. Are you happy now, Dany? she asked herself, and decided that she wasn’t. She could only get back to the game.
She spied Clarice within moments of entering the shop with Rigby, and called out a cheery, “Yoo-hoo,” as she raised one hand and waved wildly, in the manner of her mother when seeing someone she knew (and embarrassing both her daughters in the process).
Clarice waved back and hastened to join them, before commanding Rigby to vacate the premises, as his presence wasn’t necessary.
Rigby made his escape without complaint, most probably to rejoin Coop and the two of them off on the hunt for cigars or some such thing.
Clarice grabbed Dany’s arm and pulled her toward a corner of the shop, even as Mrs. Yothers approached from behind the curtain covering the dressing room Mari and Dani had occupied only a day earlier.
A day? Why did it feel like whole weeks had passed?
“Come on, come on, I’ve a secret to share. That’s why I sent poor Jerry away,” Clarice declared in a less than secretive voice. “I’ve been all but dancing out of my britches, waiting for someone to tell. It’s just the best secret ever.”
Dany smiled. So this was it? She was to allow Clarice to tell her—and Mrs. Yothers—a secret? And then she was to appear summarily impressed by said secret, obviously, which was why Coop hadn’t told her the particulars, so that neither their meeting nor the secret-telling would seem contrived. Very well, she’d act surprised. But first she’d give Mrs. Yothers time to make her way to within earshot. At the moment, she was fussing with some scarves on one of the nearby tables, her back to them, just as if she didn’t know she had customers.
“A secret, Clarice? You mean gossip, don’t you?” Dany shook her head, and tsk-tsked into the bargain. “I’d rather not listen if you don’t mind. I’m afraid I’m not a believer in gossip.”
Clarice’s blue eyes went wide. “But...but everybody loves gossip. You have to love gossip. Oh, wait. You’re only saying that because you’re a lady, and think you should. I understand. But you still want to hear it, don’t you?”
The shopkeeper was closer now.
Dany laughed. “Found me out, did you? Are you suitably impressed with my ladyness?”
Clarice shrugged. “I suppose so. I’m just happy you aren’t all prunes and prisms, whatever that means, or else I’d have to be on my best behavior, whatever that is, because just when I think I am, the duchess informs me I’m not. She’s a dear, the duchess, but I do miss my mis—my good friend Thea,” she said, and then shook her head. “I meant to say, my good friend Miss Dorothea Neville. She’s to marry Mr. Gabriel Sinclair, heir to the dukedom, you understand. But you and Thea both are more friendly than starchy, so you won’t mind if I make the odd misstep or two, will you? It’s so important that I don’t disgrace my sweet Jerry, you understand.”
“I doubt he’s worried about that,” Dany told her, reaching for the small reticule Clarice held tightly in both hands. “My, isn’t that pretty. May I see?”
The reticule was handed over and Dany-the-pearl-expert carefully turned it about in her hands, sniffed dismissingly and placed it on the nearest tabletop. “Yes, pretty enough, but the construction is pitifully shabby. Why, one wrong move and its owner would be scattering paste pearls behind her as she strode into the ballroom. Now, what were you saying?”
Clarice was still looking at the reticule. “I don’t remember. Shabby?”
Knowing Mrs. Yothers most definitely was in earshot by this time, Dany replied, “Oh, yes. These shops mix the bad in with the good, hoping no one will notice. My mother explained that all to me before I came to London.” She leaned forward to whisper none too quietly in Clarice’s ear. “I’d wager you a new lace handkerchief that the sheen would slide right off those pearls if so much as a drop of rain fell on them.”
There, that will fix you for the moment, Mrs. Yothers. Because you’re guilty as sin of something, I just know it!
“Really?” Clarice’s whisper was about as effective as Dany’s. “So if I were to sort of, well, spit on my fingers, and then just happen to rub one of those pearls...?”
“Good afternoon, ladies!” Mrs. Yothers exclaimed brightly, all but tripping over herself as she made her way past another table and approached them. “I beg your forgiveness for not realizing Hilda wasn’t assisting you. Stupid girl, always wandering off. Oh, my, Miss Foster, isn’t it? Yes, of course. And if you’ll pardon me for being so bold as to inquire, how is your sister the countess?”
“Quite well, thank you,” Dany said, trying not to laugh as the clever shopkeeper surreptitiously covered the pearl-laced reticule with a patterned scarf she’d brought with her from the other display table, “and still so delighted with the gowns she chose.”
“How...delightful,” Mrs. Yothers responded, her brow furrowed as if she might be pondering the wisdom of her next statement. “Have you yet found the time to enjoy the book I gave you, miss?”
“Alas, not yet. I’ve been otherwise occupied.”
As you’ll know soon enough, or perhaps already do know, even if you’re not letting on that you do. None too tall, are you, Mrs. Yothers? The sort who might need to step on a stool in order to reach high places? Please be guilty. It would make things so much easier if you were guilty.
“Well, now, isn’t this too lovely and chummy,” Clarice said, her words pleasant, her tone far from it. “I’m certain Miss Foster was raised to be polite, and is willing to stand here while you make nonsense conversation all the afternoon, but I am not. Kindly take yourself off, and take that sorry excuse for a reticule with you. Don’t think I didn’t see you attempt to hide it. Imagine what would happen if I were to tell the duchess! We’ll summon you if we need you.”
For a moment Mrs. Yothers appeared ready to remind her customer that she was not about to be dismissed from her own shop, but then apparently thought better of it.
She curtsied, first to Clarice, then to Dany, mumbled something about finishing up Hilda’s neglected chore of refolding the scarves and took herself off.
Dany took hold of Clarice’s arm and walked the two of them a few steps closer to the corner. “You’re probably going to rule Society, you do know that, don’t you?” she told her new friend. “I don’t believe there’s a soul alive, chimney sweep to king, who doesn’t tread warily around those who might open their mouths at any moment to say just what they think.”
“Jerry doesn’t believe that. He’d rather I just smiled and curtsied for some space of time yet, perhaps until the spring Season. As it is, he can’t wait to get me out of London, the dear thing. As if I’d go. Oh! I remember now why I was so happy to see you. Jerry told me something yesterday, something truly extraordinary and impossible and, even worse, true. But I’m not supposed to repeat what he told me. Naturally, I’m bursting at the seams to do so. Please let me tell you.”
Sensing Mrs. Yothers hovering even though she’d turned her back to the woman, Dany said, “If it’s true, then I suppose it wouldn’t be gossip, would it?”
“That’s the spirit!” Clarice rubbed her palms together and bent her head close. “You’ve met Darby, haven’t you? I’m sure Jerry told me you did. Darby Travers, Viscount Nailbourne? He has that patch over his eye and all? Handsome devil, if a bit too amused, if you take my meaning. Gabe—Thea’s fiancé—is a happy soul, and up to most any mischief, and Coop is so upright and commonsensible, while my Jerry is very nearly their pet, bless him, and I’d never say such a thing to him. Such good friends, for such a long time. But this?” She shook her head. “Even Jerry is appalled. You’re really going to let me tell you?”
Dany wondered which one of them, Mrs. Yothers or herself, would be the first to grab Clarice Goodfellow by the throat and choke this supposed secret out of her.
But she managed to retain an outward calm as she nodded. “If only to ease your mind, Clarice. Yes, I’ll hear your secret.”
“Damned well about time,” the young woman whispered, this time so that Mrs. Yothers couldn’t hear her. Dany barely heard her, but she was fairly certain she knew what Clarice was saying.
Now the girl took a deep breath, held it for some moments and finally said: “He owns a brothel. Him. The viscount of Nailbourne.”
Dany gave a quick shake of her head, as if she hadn’t quite understood what she’d just heard. In truth, she was having some difficulty believing this was the secret Mrs. Yothers was to hear. “Pardon me? You couldn’t possibly have that right. Could you?”
Clarice gave a rather haughty push at her blond curls. “My Jerry doesn’t lie.”
“No, no, of course not. I wouldn’t imply any such thing. But this is terrible, Clarice. Very nearly as scandalous as if he’d gone into trade. My parents have been most clear on that point. Rather a privateer than a coal merchant. But this is worse, isn’t it?”
“Jerry thinks so. He said the brothel is right here in Mayfair, and that would mean that the viscount is rubbing shoulders with the men who pay to use his services. I mean, not his services. But the services he provides. Is that what I mean?”
“I’m sure I have no idea,” Dany lied, wishing she hadn’t listened so well to her brother when he was telling her things she shouldn’t know. “Clarice, Rigby was wrong to tell you. I understand you must have been bursting to tell someone, but now you can’t tell anyone else. Not a single soul. The viscount would be ruined. Disgraced. Forced to leave Society.”
Was that enough, or should she add a few more hints?
Clarice was vigorously nodding her agreement, so Dany decided she had made herself clear.
“Good. Now we’ll not speak of this again. Truly, it’s something we shouldn’t know, should we? Although I wonder if Coop knows. I may just tell him. But only him, and nobody else. This is our secret now, Clarice. And a terrible one it is. Why, it’s put me quite out of countenance. I don’t think I could look at a single thing in the shop today, even as I’d returned specifically to select materials for a few gowns my sister promised me. Shall we leave now, and hope you haven’t chased Rigby too far?”
They hadn’t. As soon as Dany stepped outside the shop she saw Rigby nervously pacing the flagway.
“There you are!” he exclaimed while Clarice held out her hands to him, as if they were meeting after an intolerably long separation. “Did you do it? Did she hear you? Where are your packages? Don’t say you didn’t buy anything. That would be too suspicious.”
“I’m not such a sad looby,” Clarice scolded as she slipped her arm through his and Dany joined them for what appeared to be a walk to the corner. “The bonnets will be sent to Grosvenor Square, but I allowed Dany to talk me out of the reticule, just as you wanted.”
“Ah, caught out, am I?” Dany said, laughing. “What gave me away?”
“Nothing,” Clarice told her as she winked. “I was merely guessing. Shame on you, Jerry. You just had to say no.”
“I would never say no to you, Clary. I wouldn’t know how.”
You’ll always have a choice, Dany. That’s a promise.
Two men. Saying two very different things. Yet both employing that same suddenly serious tone.
What did it mean? Did it mean anything? Rigby was a man in love. Coop was...well, he wasn’t, that’s all. Why, they barely knew each other.
She spied him as the trio turned the corner. He was standing beside his coach, propping up a light post, his arms folded, his feet crossed at the ankle. He looked like a man bored to flinders, and she felt a sudden mad desire to fling herself into his arms.
Rigby and Clarice gifted him with cheery hellos before climbing into the coach, but Dany stopped right in front of him to say, “Brothel? That couldn’t have been your idea.”
“True enough. Darby picked it. He wanted something salacious. Do you know what comes next?”
“I do, or at least I think I do. We come back when the shop closes this evening, and then hopefully get the chance to follow Mrs. Yothers as she goes racing off to meet with her blackmailing employer.”
Coop held out his hand to assist her into the coach. Once they were settled on the squabs and dutifully ignoring Clarice and Rigby, who were greeting each other as if parted for years (and why did she feel suddenly jealous?), he corrected her assumption.
“Darby has all of that in hand. We are attending the theater, to see and be seen, as last night’s dinner table gossip will have spread to every corner of Mayfair by then, and it’s important we make an appearance. We can’t have the world thinking you’ve locked yourself in your bedchamber, hiding from the man who compromised you, now, can we?”
Dany pointed to the cooing lovebirds on the facing seat. “Do we have to do that?”
Surely he couldn’t hear that smidgen of hope in my voice.
Coop smiled. “God, no. Nobody does that. Only the two of them. Unless, that is, you believe it necessary.”
“I don’t think so, no,” Dany said with all the conviction she could muster, stealing another peek at her new friends, who apparently had remembered where they were and broken off their kiss. Either that, or they’d run out of air. “Do you really think it will work?”
“That?” Coop asked rather incredulously, also pointing at his friends.
“No, of course not. The viscount flushing out the blackmailer. That is what you want, isn’t it? Mrs. Yothers taking him information he can use to further line their pockets?”
“You’ll pardon me for not always running fast enough to catch up with your mind as it skips ahead like a flat stone skimmed across a pond. But that is the plan, yes.”
“You should have spoken with me before you launched it, you know. Or did you consider the possibility that Mrs. Yothers is not involved with the blackmailer, and is only a silly gossip, so that our engagement may be completely overlooked as the world turns as one on the viscount?”
Coop muttered something under his breath.
“Pardon me? I don’t believe I quite caught that,” Dany said, feeling rather smug.
“I said, men shouldn’t think when they drink. I believe we did consider that possibility, but not seriously. I suppose we’d better hope Mrs. Yothers is guilty, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes, we most certainly should. You men should also confine yourselves to war, and leave intrigue to the ladies. We’re much better at it. A brothel. I suppose that’s better than saying he murdered his valet, or some such thing.”
“That also was considered, but Darby pointed out that then he’d be forced to polish his own boots, which he deemed totally unacceptable for a man of his stature.”
Dany looked at Coop in astonishment but quickly noticed the twinkle in his eyes—those marvelous green eyes, more priceless than any emerald—and the two of them fell against each other in shared laughter.
It was as if they’d known each other forever. And wasn’t that wonderful? They had bumped up against the edge of ridiculous and, oh, what a marvelous collision it was.
Dany could believe they were simply two people who had met and liked each other, and could possibly be passing beyond mere liking and on to something else, something perhaps even rare and magical. For this moment, these few fleeting moments, it could be believed that their lives were perfect.
Save for the blackmailer, the chapbooks, Mari’s letters and her soon-to-return husband, a totally ridiculous engagement and the constantly ticking clock hanging over all their heads...
