A Devil of a Duke by Madeline Hunter (6)

Chapter Six

“I will leave you now,” Lady Farnsworth intoned. “Miss Waverly, make use of the club when you are finished. I need to visit my solicitor and may not be back until after you are done.”

The lady sailed out, leaving Amanda alone with Mrs. Galbreath in the house’s little office on the first story. Mrs. Galbreath moved a chair to join the one already at the desk. “You sit here, and I will show you the accounts.”

Lady Farnsworth had announced this visit to Bedford Square when Amanda arrived in her home in the morning. Amanda had been grateful for something novel to fill the day. When she sat at her desk in Lady Farnsworth’s library, too much distracted her mind.

Her daring adventure increasingly struck her as foolhardy. She could have died. She could have been caught by a servant. Fine thing to go to all that trouble only to be apprehended as soon as she dropped into Sir Malcolm Nutley’s dressing room.

That was where she had landed, which meant she had to go below to the gallery and public rooms to look for that stupid buckle. Every minute in the house increased her danger.

And if she had been caught? She shivered whenever she considered that possibility.

What really preyed on her mind, however, was how in a few weeks she had seen her life retreat into something she had determined to avoid.

She took her seat beside Mrs. Galbreath. A criminal. That was what she was now, and she had no business taking care of anyone’s finances. She no longer had youth and imposing parents to excuse what she did. No judge would care that she only sought to save her mother, especially since her mother was a criminal too.

“These are the printing accounts.” Mrs. Galbreath opened the account book to a tabbed page. “Each page is for a different printer, or for another tradesman who supports the printing. This one, for example, is for an engraver we employ on occasion for fashion plates.”

Amanda paged through the accounts, fascinated.

Mrs. Galbreath explained the other accounts in that book, then opened another. “These are the booksellers with whom we consign the copies. See how each issue lists the number received, then the receipts of the ones that sell as those sales took place.”

She allowed Amanda to examine the book before she pulled out yet one more. “And this one you will recognize. It holds the accounts for this house.”

Amanda noticed pages for grocers and fishmongers. “Does someone live here?”

“The duchess invited me to do so. She did not want the house unsupervised at night, she said. She really wanted to spare me the indignity of living with my brother and his wife.”

“Did you move to live with him after your husband died?” She bit her lip. That had been fairly blunt.

Mrs. Galbreath did not seem to mind. “I had no choice. My husband was young and left me little. I was young too. I thought to remarry soon, but . . . that did not happen.”

“I think it is wonderful how you have made your own way now. I would like to do that.”

“You are doing that, aren’t you? You depend on your employment, but no one else. It feels good, doesn’t it? I certainly think it does.” Mrs. Galbreath smiled conspiratorially, and they both laughed. “Now I will leave you to familiarize yourself with all of this. Here are some bills for the household. If you think you are ready, you can enter them, then make a list of payments I should disburse.”

Amanda made short work with the accounts. Mrs. Galbreath’s tradesmen were more honest than Lady Farnsworth’s, and she found no discrepancies. She left the accounts in the little office and ventured down to the public rooms.

She took the opportunity to examine the rest of the premises. The dining room held several card tables and what looked to be a wagering log. Decanters with colored liquids sat on a breakfront. Since they resembled the ones used at her last meeting, she assumed these too held spirits.

It was a wonder this club had not caused a scandal. Not only for the spirits and gambling, but because it accepted such as she through its door.

She returned to the library. Three women lounged on divans in the library. They noticed her enter.

“You are welcome to join us if you would like,” one of them said.

A sisterhood, the duchess had called it. She supposed that meant she was supposed to be sisterly.

“Thank you. That is very kind.” She found a chair among them.

Introductions flowed. Mrs. Harper and Mrs. Guilford were wives of gentlemen. Mrs. Troy, however, owned a bookshop. “I am one of the booksellers who offers Parnassus,” she explained. “You are Lady Farnsworth’s secretary, I believe.”

“She kindly took me on.”

“Of course she did. Why not employ a woman? She often extols you to us. She says you have the best hand she has ever seen, and can cleverly copy others’ hands too. You are very talented with the pen.”

“I was well taught.” Amanda swallowed her dismay that Lady Farnsworth went about town speaking about her penmanship. The day might come when someone realized that such a fine hand would be useful in forgery, which had been the purpose for all those lessons from Mama.

Mrs. Harper poured her some tea. “We have the best here,” she explained. “Never adulterated. You can taste the difference at once. I would have joined for the tea alone, and am sure I drink my fees in it.” She handed over the cup.

Amanda sipped. What a small luxury, but so welcomed. She never had tea at home, and savored the cups that Lady Farnsworth on occasion pressed on her.

“How did you become a secretary? There can be no clear path.”

Amanda finished her tea and set down the cup. “After I left school, I took employment as a companion, first with two ladies in the country, then with one here in town. I helped them all a little with correspondence and accounts. The last lady gave me a reference when she decided to join her son’s household. I was fortunate that Lady Farnsworth took the chance on me.”

“She is nothing if not open-minded.”

“And outspoken too.”

“I am sure Miss Waverly has not missed that her employer, while brilliant, is eccentric,” Mrs. Guilford said. “We love her, Miss Waverly, but I daresay none of us admits to our husbands that she is a friend. Except Mrs. Troy here, but then her husband is a radical, isn’t he?”

Mrs. Troy seemed unfazed by the description of her husband.

“She probably knows that we keep her friendship a secret,” Mrs. Harper said, looking sad.

“I do not think she would mind much if she does know it,” Amanda offered. “I am sure she anticipated what the social reaction to her chosen path would be.”

Mrs. Troy rose. “With time, perhaps all of us will stop being sheep. Now, this woman must return to her bookshop and earn her keep.” She smiled at the other women, who had probably never earned a penny in their entire lives.

Mrs. Harper checked her watch pendant. “My carriage is arriving soon, so I too must take my leave. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Waverly.”

After the little group broke up, Amanda moved to a chair and availed herself of a stack of newspapers on the table next to her.

She opened The Times. Lady Farnsworth always received this newspaper, but Amanda rarely read it on the day it was published. Rather, she would take the old papers home with her on Saturday. As a result, her knowledge of events was often a week behind.

Today, she luxuriated in reading every word in a timely manner. After enjoying her fill of news about politics and international affairs, she turned her attention to the advertisements. She always found them fascinating, announcing, as they did, new wonders for sale. The personal notices never failed to amuse and intrigue her so she saved those for last.

Halfway down that column, a personal notice demanded attention. With one quick scan, it assumed a very large presence. She read it again, astonished.

Amanda cursed under her breath. That Langford had found the shawl at all was terrible luck. After searching in the dark for it to no avail, she had hoped a gardener would discover it and take it for his wife.

That the duke now used it to try and have another meeting struck her as dangerous on several counts. He may have learned of the missing buckle, for all she knew. This could be a way to trap her, if he had guessed the whole of it.

That he threatened to display that shawl to the women in his circle made her pulse pound. Someone would probably recognize it as one of Lady Farnsworth’s older garments. That floral pattern would be memorable.

She had hoped that once she learned how to send the buckle to its new owner that she could take steps to ensure that this sorry adventure would be over. Done. Finished. She had never expected the Duke of Langford to present a complication like this, especially considering their last, unsatisfactory assignation. That kiss may have moved her, but surely he was too sophisticated to find it, or her, interesting enough for this peculiar pursuit.

There was no other word for his actions. Had he merely sought to return the shawl, he could have told her to write with any address where he might leave it. There were plenty of tradesmen who would act as go-between if she did not want to send her own location.

Instead, he demanded this second meeting in his brother’s home. Flattered though she might be—and she had to admit she was—he could be up to no good.

June 5. Four days to decide what to do.

* * *

“Can I ask what you are looking for?” Brentworth broke his bored sighs enough to pose the question. Gabriel ignored him and continued to examine the lockets laid out for his perusal.

“A bauble?” Brentworth nudged. “A gift for the duchess to celebrate the birth of her son?”

“Yes, that.” It seemed as good an answer as any. The real one would not do at all.

Brentworth pointed to a tasteful gold, circular locket. “A snip of the infant’s hair would fit inside that one nicely.”

“So it would. However, I can’t decide between that and this one here.”

“That emerald is rather large. A small memento is in order, not something to be worn to the theater.”

“I am always so grateful for your advice on matters of taste. What would I do without your exercising restraint on my behalf? Still, I cannot decide.”

“Take them both, and decide later, so I can be spared another half hour here.”

“A splendid idea.” He gestured to the jeweler and made his lack of choice known.

Five minutes later, they mounted their horses with both lockets secure in Gabriel’s pocket. The duchess would receive the discreet, simple one. Another woman would get the jeweled, flamboyant one. Assuming she had seen that notice and would arrive at the place designated.

Also assuming the night went as he intended. His thoughts about his mystery woman had shifted slightly. A deep sense had emerged that something about that meeting had been not quite right. He had only himself to blame for drinking too much and falling asleep, but . . . he could not avoid the suspicion, born of his long experience with women, that she had in some way manipulated him. If so, she would not a second time.

She might not even show up, of course. He kept telling himself that the odds were she would not. All the same, the shawl remained neatly folded and waiting in his dressing room. His instincts also said its owner would want it back.

If not, he had enjoyed making the plans and playing the game. Last night, in his anticipation, he had even worked out a few creative details for additional fun.

First and foremost, he would not drink more than one glass of wine this time.

* * *

“I need your advice,” Amanda said.

Katherine raised her eyebrows. They sat in Amanda’s chamber, where Amanda had invited Katherine to share a late supper. Amanda had carried the food, which was better than either of them normally ate, back from Lady Farnsworth’s. It had been a gift from the cook, left from a little luncheon Lady Farnsworth had held.

“I have to meet someone. A gentleman. I need you to look at the two dresses I laid out and tell me which one is both presentable but . . . discouraging.”

Katherine’s eyebrows went higher yet. “A gentleman, you say. Will this be a private meeting?”

“Yes, I regret to say.”

“If you regret it, why not decline?”

“I can’t explain why. However, I want it to be a very brief meeting. A few minutes at most.”

Katherine laughed so hard that her red curls bounced. “No man requires a private meeting if he intends it to last five minutes. And no man can be discouraged by a dress. Most of them will be more interested in what is underneath it.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Of course I am.” She walked over to the bed and peered at the two dresses. “Use this blue one. It is cut higher, and its fuller bodice will hide most of your shape. Not that it will matter.” She returned to the table and picked up a chicken leg. “Are you in some trouble?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“No other explanation, seems to me.”

Amanda poked some herbed potato pieces. “There is some cake after this. We may as well eat it all. I doubt it will keep long.”

“You are in trouble, aren’t you?”

“It was a small misunderstanding that unfortunately allowed this man to come to know me. Now I must see him—do not ask why, please.”

“You think he has dishonorable intentions, I gather. Well, they all do, so that did not take a big leap to figure out. You wear the blue dress, but make sure he doesn’t get it off you, not that a man needs to in order to have his way.” She bit into her chicken. “You are green still, aren’t you?”

“A bit.”

“Has there been anyone since that scoundrel who lied to you?”

Amanda ate some potatoes and looked at Katherine while she chewed.

“Do you like this man? Do you find him handsome or fun? If you don’t, you should be fine, but if you do, welllllll . . .” Katherine shrugged.

“I do like what I know of him. I also think him handsome. None of that matters because I cannot become entangled. It would ruin what life I have. My employer would let me go in a snap if she learned of it, I am sure. Any employer would.”

“So your objections are practical ones. Not, shall we say, physical ones.”

Amanda knew her face reddened. No, not physical ones if she was honest with herself. She thought Langford extremely attractive, with that cocky smile and those dark curls and sapphire eyes. She found his conceit more amusing than annoying.

She’d also enjoyed his kisses more than she should. She had not thought of a man that way since the heartbreak over Steven, but now she did with a man she dared not dally with even for conversation, let alone more.

And yet, for all of her mental warnings and distress, an excitement simmered inside her about this meeting.

She was being a fool. He had been a means to an end, nothing more, and she was merely a passing dalliance for him. She needed to remember that and not dwell on phantom sensations of how she felt when he kissed her. She would get back that shawl and make sure he never saw her again.

Katherine put down her food and leaned in. “You say he is a gentleman. If he truly is, and if you like him and find him attractive, you have only one hope that I can think of because the urges people have are almost impossible to resist.”

“What one hope?”

“You must make him swear as a gentleman that he will not have his way with you. A real gentleman will never break his word, even when only you would know that he did. At least that is what is said. I wouldn’t know myself.”

“What if he isn’t a real gentleman, but only one in name?”

Katherine grinned. “Then I hope he knows what he is about so you enjoy yourself.”