Silk and Scandal (6 page)

Eliza sighed. “Bloody bastard, indeed. Well, I see now that I need to call on Lord Bailsworthy one fine evening very soon.”

“Tomorrow should be a clear night,” Pandora said. Already her eyes gleamed with wicked delight. “Word has it the young lord nightly visits the hells. The Bloody Cock and The Thorn and Thistle are his favorite haunts.”

“Tomorrow night it is, assuming the weather is fine,” Eliza said. “See that Kathleen is found and taken, if she wishes, to our refuge.”

“As you wish. I find it sad that we cannot help all of them, my lady.”

“I know. Once married, a woman is completely subjugated. She has no rights or recourse. We can help the others, however. Those young unmarried women, who are seduced or raped, need our help, and the money we steal helps see to their care. This is truly all that we can do until laws and attitudes change.”

Eliza, feeling suddenly drained after a night filled with temptation and turmoil, slid between cool cotton sheets and savored the scent of rose that clung to the fabric. “We shall discuss this more tomorrow, Pandy,” she said on a yawn.

“As you wish.”

When the door shut behind her maid, Eliza closed her eyes and tried to plot a way for the dastardly Bailsworthy to pay for his misdeeds. Instead, her thoughts focused upon a certain duke. She’d thought herself immune to a handsome face and courtly manners. She’d believed, mistakenly it seemed, that she was impervious to dashing good looks, broad shoulders and a face meant to invade a woman’s dreams.

Silly twit!

As hard as she tried, she simply could not push thoughts of the man from her mind. It proved to be a very long night indeed.

Chapter Four

Rain slapped out a steady beat against the windows of Eliza’s Grosvenor Street townhouse. Opening her bleary eyes to the gray shadows permeating her room, she thought for just a moment of attempting a bit more sleep, but knew the effort would be futile. Haunting dreams made her toss and turn through the long, stormy night, and the continuing weather merely added to her misery.

Fortune, it seemed, was not with her.

Serious riders enjoyed their early morning forays through Hyde Park. A fast, exhilarating ride would have been just the thing to shake off her dour mood, but it was simply not meant to be.

Eliza sighed, prayed for patience.

Assuming the weather cleared, she would be relegated to a stately stroll along Rotten Row much later in the day. The promenade would fill with London’s elite who were more concerned with being seen than in the actual exercise of riding. Hyde Park in the afternoon was a ridiculous display of manners, fashion and, of course, gossip. Today much of that gossip would be focused upon herself.

Best face it bravely and go forward.

Steeling herself for the day to come, she donned a morning gown of apple green sprigged with yellow flowers. A fichu of Mechlin lace was tucked and draped about the neckline.

Once seated at her dressing table, she tucked a stray lock of hair into the braided coronet at the crown of her head. As was her habit, she opened a Mother of Pearl-inlaid box, a gift from her sister, and reached inside. Alone on its bed of black velvet lay the gold watch she’d stolen from Edward. The gift from Charlotte to her husband on their wedding day was something with which Eliza had been unable to part. Pressing the latch to open it, Eliza read, once again, the words written there.

To my husband on our wedding day

Yours,

Charlotte

The words enforced her resolve and served as a reminder of her quest. Today, however, she felt cowardice roar up to rip away her confidence. It was a deadly game she played, and after last night’s scene, all eyes would be focused in her direction.

A dangerous situation for a thief, indeed.

Her goal in attending the rout had been solely for the purpose of gleaning what information she could, yet she’d been unwillingly tossed into a sea of speculation.

Then there was the Duke.

How was she to focus on her work after he had behaved in such an outrageous manner? Perhaps it was as simple as avoiding him, or maybe he had forgotten her already. Eliza didn’t know him after all. With his satyr’s face and godlike body, he surely could have his choice of female companionship.

Surely he would forget her. Most likely, he would not.

Those silver eyes had blazed in the darkness, certain of the night’s outcome. Determination was there, to be sure, along with a strange glint of something indecipherable that had sent a thrilling shiver through her body.

Eliza had never been so at odds. Her heart battled with her head and she knew that her mind must rule if she were to succeed on her chosen course. She had no time for men. Most particularly men like Nicholas Delaford, who could make her forget her quest.

London was a city teeming with amusements at the height of the Season. Most likely, she would not see him often considering the crush of people abiding here.

Closing the box, she went downstairs to face her father over breakfast and the morning issue of The Times. Like herself, Lord Henry was an early riser and if one wanted to speak with him, haste was imperative as he was wont to retreat from his wife and daughter.

“Good morning, Papa,” she said upon entering the dining room.

Lord Henry set down the paper and gave her a solemn nod. “Hello, Moppet.”

She laughed softly as she filled her plate from the sideboard. “I ceased being a Moppet many years ago, as you well know.”

“Old habit, my dear. You shall always be my Moppet despite the fact that you have blossomed into a beautiful and courageous young woman.”

She took a chair to her father’s right and broke open a steaming hot muffin to butter. Rolling her eyes, she scoffed. “Hah. Hardly courageous.”

Henry stared at her through eyes identical to her own and shook his head. “From the account in this morning’s Times, you faced your sister’s killer like Joan of Arc and a Valkyrie rolled into one. Everyone is singing your praises for dealing with the devil as you did. You must have been magnificent, my dear. My only wish is that I had been there to take up the sword in your defense.”

“Never say it, Papa. At the time of Lottie’s death you wanted to duel with him. Never were we, Mother and I, more relieved than when he left immediately for the continent.”

Henry propped both elbows on the table and laid his face in his palms. “I was a coward, Eliza. I should have chased him down. Demanded satisfaction.”

“You were racked with grief. We all were. During those dark days, you were never a coward, but Edward is a marksman of skill. We would have found a way to stop you from risking yourself even if it involved locking you away somewhere. Mama and I needed you. We still do.”

Straightening, Lord Henry drew his fingers through thick silver hair and flattened his well-sculpted lips. As a child, she’d thought her father the most handsome man in the world. He was still handsome despite his age and the grief that marred his features. Tall and distinguished, his black slashing brows and hawkish features drew the eye and were capable still of catching the notice of ladies both young and old.

“I have let you both down while wallowing in my selfish grief. Eliza, I realize I have neglected you over these past years. This must change. We must continue on and a part of that means I must begin to deal with things.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, I plan to take back my seat in Parliament, for a beginning. Then your mother and I must reenter society once again. It is not fair for her to remain so isolated as she is a creature who abhors solitude.

“Along with this, I have resumed my interest as a trustee for The London Museum. I regret I have not mentioned it but I had to be sure I was ready to rejoin the world. Each morning, after you leave for your ride, I hie myself off to deal with museum acquisitions. I must admit that I have enjoyed myself.”

“Papa, you could not give me better news.”

Henry arched a brow and stood to regard his daughter. “This brings me to other, very interesting news.”

Knowing what was to come, Eliza gazed into her cup of tepid tea. “Mmm?”

“Weston appears to have set his eye on my very charming, marriageable daughter. Is it true that he danced with no one other than you at last night’s affair?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Eliza dreaded this conversation but knew it must be dealt with at once. She set her cup into its saucer with a decided clink. “Furthermore, I could care less. The man is arrogant, presumptuous, and all too forward. He is not for me.”

“Hah! Then why do you blush? You need not lie about your interest in him. I know you too well. You are lying. Over and over again, you have said you would never marry, yet your expression, that nervous twitch in your fingers, tells me otherwise.”

“I never twitch.”

“Ah, but you do when you lie. Tell me that you do not still insist on remaining unmarried. Why ever would a young woman as lovely as you not want all the usual things? Family, children, a man who will take care of you?”

Eliza bristled. “Take care of me? I thought you respected me more than that. I resent this, Papa. I truly do.”

Henry settled his hands on her shoulders and bent to stare into her eyes. “Never have I met a more self-sufficient female and you know this. I just do not want a life of loneliness for you. I know something of the Duke. He is rich in his own right, wealthier even than myself, and that, as you well know, is saying much. This is not a man who, like Edward, searches for an heiress to fatten his bank account. You should consider his suit, if he presses it. Like myself, you must begin living again.”

Millicent chose that moment to enter the room. Lovely in a rich chocolate brown that complemented her auburn hair, she went smiling into Henry’s arms. Theirs had been a love match, the talk of London many years ago, and Eliza watched them a bit wistfully. It was odd, that, considering she’d imagined her heart hardened to the notion of true love.

Vengeance had ridden her so long and hard, she’d almost forgotten that deep inside she was a woman with a woman’s emotions.

“Ah, darling, there you are.” Her mother embraced her. “Have you quite survived your horrid ordeal?”

“Yes, Mama. As you well know, I shall survive with my usual aplomb.”

“Wonderful.” Millicent beamed. “Then you shan’t object to a visit to Madam Costanza’s shop. Several gowns are due to be finished and I need a new bonnet as well. Something to match my yellow walking dress.”

Eliza found her mother’s excited smile difficult to resist, so she nodded, but as they turned to the door, it suddenly opened.

“Goodness me, James,” Millicent gasped with a hand over her heart. “You gave us a startle.”

The servant bowed with a sheepish look and turned his attention to Eliza. “M’lady, something just arrived for you. It’s in the foyer.”

Lord and Lady Grayson went with Eliza to see for themselves and together they smiled at the sight that greeted them.

Eliza blinked in awed delight at the vision of so many gorgeous orchids. “Ohhh, my,” she whispered, reaching for one of at least a half dozen white baskets.

“Orchids!” She plucked one up from the nearest basket and drew her cheek along a velvety petal. Dozens upon dozens of dark violet flowers, utterly perfect, were trimmed with greenery and bright pink ribbon. “My favorites, but who would have sent them?”

While Henry motioned to the servants regarding distribution of the blossoms, Millicent waved an embossed card beneath her nose.

Almost dreading the truth of the matter, Eliza read aloud. “For the most exotic flower in England. Your Servant, Duke Weston.

“Oh no. I cannot have this. I simply cannot.”

“Whyever not, darling?” Millicent asked. “Is this the young man connected to you in the papers?”

Eliza longingly studied the perfection of the bloom she held before setting it aside and resolutely turning away. “We are not connected in any way at all nor will we ever be. The man is a menace.”

Exotic. He thought her an exotic flower.

Heaven help her. Everything about the man thrilled her. Utter dismay launched itself at her head.

Millicent sniffed. “Excuse me, daughter, but a man that rich, charming, and handsome could never be a menace.”

“How do you know? That he’s handsome, I mean.”

Her mother twittered her fingers as if swatting a pesky gnat. “Well, I do not know precisely, but I have heard it from the very best sources. The ladies in my little afternoon group all speak of him. I suspect many have the young Duke picked out for their debs. He has been from society for years; just returned from China, I hear.” Millicent gave Eliza a wicked wink. “Appears I shall have much to discuss when next we meet. Such fun I am going to have!”

“Oh, please, Mother.” Eliza scrunched up her eyes at the thought. “Do not say a thing. I shall never marry, and well you know it.”

Millicent’s romantic heart shone in her eyes. She smiled dreamily. “We shall see, won’t we?

* * * * * * * *

Nicholas stepped onto the walk in front of his club and went straight to his parked carriage. “Rawlins, what have you learned?”

His man stepped forward and opened the carriage door. “A great deal, Your Grace.”

“Excellent.”

Once inside and on their way, Rawlins gave Nicholas an account of his efforts, outlining every move of his prey. “She rides nearly every morning in Hyde Park and again in late afternoon. As Lady Henry Grayson doesn’t ride, Eliza takes a groom. She is a very fine rider from what I’ve learned.”

“That’s convenient, Rawlins. Makes it quite simple to run her to ground.”

Rawlins grinned. “Quite right, m’lord.”

“Her social engagements?”

“For tonight, she has accepted an invitation to a musicale at the home of Lord and Lady Howard Smythe. Her mother will attend with her. Then she shall be off again, without her mother and only a maid to chaperone. Lord and Lady William Glenwallace are hosting an engagement party for their daughter at their home near Trafalgar Square. Have you an invitation for that one?”

“Of course. It seems I have an invitation for everything. The lady will not escape me so easily. I believe I shall forego the musicale as I detest them.” Nicholas stared broodingly out the carriage window.

It seemed imperative that he haunt every move she made, though it irritated him to have to move so quickly. His birthday was but a month away and already there was news of Park’s arrival in London. The cretin was no doubt drooling over the notion of taking over his title. If he was to claim his birthright, he did not have much time to court Eliza as she deserved. He wondered if she liked the flowers.

* * * *

Knowing she must look her best to face the most dreaded gossips of the Ton, Eliza entered Hyde Park that afternoon dressed in a new riding costume. The crimson-colored gown, done in the military style, was trimmed with a double row of shiny jet buttons. A matching hat, featuring a jaunty black feather, sat atop her head.