Six
The entrance of a short, round-faced girl with frizzed brown hair and ill-fitted gown forced Cassie to curb her irritation with Lord Mumford. There would no doubt be ample time later to be annoyed with the interfering gentleman.
With an effort, she summoned a welcoming smile. “Please come in, Miss . . . ?”
“Stone. Millie Stone,” the girl reluctantly supplied, her pale blue gaze nervously darting around the room. Her eyes widened in alarm at the sight of the forbiddingly large gentleman leaning with nonchalant ease against the mantel.
With a sour glare at her uninvited guest, Cassie made the grudging introduction.
“Lord Mumford, may I introduce Miss Stone?”
Luke offered a faint nod of his dark head. “Miss Stone. ”
“And I am Lady Greer.” Cassie attempted to distract the anxious Millie from Luke’s cool appraisal. The poor girl appeared as if she might bolt at any moment.
“Yes, I know.” Millie gratefully turned back to Cassie. “I seen yer both at the theater. That is how I knew where to find yer. I also heard yer askin’ fer Nell Maggert.”
Cassie felt her heart give a tiny leap. Perhaps her daring excursion through the dangerous streets had not been a thorough waste.
“Will you have a seat?” Cassie led the way to the red sofa, watching the girl anxiously perch on the edge of the cushion. At the same moment, the butler entered with a large tray. “Oh, Tolson, please just set that here.”
With stiff precision the servant marched to place the tray onto the lacquer table.
“Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“Thank you, no.”
Tolson bowed. “Very good.”
Not wishing to be overheard by the butler, Cassie busied herself with pouring her guest a cup of tea and filling a china plate with a generous serving of the various sandwiches and pastries. Once the door to the salon had been closed, she offered the delicacies to her guest.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Millie breathed.
Sensing the girl was unaccustomed to such a treat, Cassie pretended an interest in preparing Lord Mumford’s tea and carrying it across the room to him, determinedly ignoring his sardonic expression. Only when the entire plate of food had been demolished did Cassie return to the sofa and regard Millie with a firm gaze.
“Now, I believe you have some information concerning Nell?”
A wary expression settled on the round face. “Miss Maggert ain’t be in no trouble?”
“No, certainly not,” Cassie hastily assured. “I merely wish to speak with her.”
“Why?”
“It concerns an acquaintance of hers.”
Without warning, Luke straightened from the mantel, his dark features set in stern lines.
“How do you know Nell?”
Millie flinched at the abrupt question. “I be her maid.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes.”
The blue eyes narrowed. “Rather odd for a maid to be at that theater so early in the morning.”
Millie jerkily set aside the plate and teacup. “Miss Maggert left behind a shawl that she be particularly fond of. She asked me to fetch it fer her.”
“And did she also send you here today?”
“No.” There was no mistaking the flare of fear that rippled over the broad countenance. “I ain’t said a word about Lady Greer.”
The dark features sharpened. “And why is that?”
“I ... I thought . . . that is ...” Clearly unnerved by Lord Mumford’s relentless questions, Millie struggled to meet the glittering gaze.
“You hoped that Lady Greer might be grateful enough for information concerning Nell Maggert that she would offer you a reward?”
The maid jumped to her feet with a stricken expression.
“What if I did? I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“No one said that you had,” Cassie soothed, rising to her feet. She spared one warning glare to the imposing Lord Mumford before turning back toward the wary maid. “Will you take me to Miss Maggert?”
“I ain’t sure . . .” The girl hedged.
“I can pay you for any help you might give.”
Millie wavered. “And Miss Maggert won’t get hurt?”
“Certainly not.”
“Miss Maggert has been good to me.”
Cassie smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “I just have a few questions.”
“Well, a girl has to think of her future,” the maid muttered, twisting the faded skirt with nervous fingers.
“Yes, indeed.”
There was a long pause as Millie struggled to overcome her conscience.
“All right, then.” She succumbed to temptation, her face pale. “Meet me tomorrow behind the mews. It ain’t far from here.”
Cassie felt a sharp flare of disappointment. She had wasted a fortnight in this terrible neighborhood. She did not want to waste another moment.
“Can we not go now?” she demanded.
“Oh, no.” Millie gave a firm shake of her head. “Miss Maggert be ... entertaining.”
Cassie’s face flamed with color as Lord Mumford gave a choked cough that was suspiciously close to a laugh.
“Oh.”
“I will meet you at half past ten.” The maid appeared unaware of Cassie’s discomfort. “I always take the dog for a walk then.”
Realizing that there was nothing she could do but wait until the morrow, Cassie gave a reluctant nod.
“Very well,” she conceded. “May I offer you more tea?”
“No. I have to get back afore I be missed.”
“Of course.”
Ignoring Lord Mumford who stood silently beside the mantel, Cassie led the maid out of the room and to the front door.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Stone.”
“Yer won’t forget tomorrow?”
Cassie could not prevent a wry smile. “Have no fear, I shall not forget.”
With a hasty bow, Millie slipped out of the door. Cassie watched as the maid hurried down the path, glancing nervously over her shoulder as if she feared she might be followed.
Cassie slowly shut the door. Tomorrow. Was it possible that she would at last discover Nell? That she at last be given the opportunity to ask the questions that had burned in the back of her mind since her home had been invaded?
There would be no point in becoming overly optimistic, she warned herself.
This Nell Maggert might not even be the Nell she was searching for. Or if she was, she might refuse to admit she was acquainted with Liza. Or it was even possible Millie Stone was lying about her knowledge of Nell and was simply hoping for a few easy quid.
But she at least had hope, and that was more than she possessed a few short hours before.
With a faint sigh, Cassie turned to make her way back to the salon. She had no doubt that Lord Mumford would be waiting eagerly to demand an explanation for the extraordinary encounter. He would also demand to know her interest in Nell Maggert.
Annoying man.
Entering the salon, Cassie prepared herself to fend off the inevitable curiosity. But stepping through the open door, she came to an abrupt halt as she realized the room was empty. A sudden frown marred her brow. It was too much to hope that he had actually disappeared as unexpectedly as he had appeared. So what the devil was he up to now?
Torn between using the opportunity to escape to the safety of her room and the reluctance to appear a coward, Cassie found the decision taken out of her hands as Lord Mumford nonchalantly strolled through the door behind her.
Thoroughly unnerved by his casual manner of wandering through her home, Cassie regarded him with suspicion.
“Do you always pry through people’s homes behind their backs?”
He answered her accusation with a vague shrug. Then, withdrawing a delicate snuffbox, he helped himself to a small sample. She watched in burning frustration as he ensured his cuffs were perfectly straight before slowly lifting his head to regard her with a knowing smile.
“I presume it would be a waste of breath to assure you that only a fool would follow a strange woman through the back streets of London?”
Expecting questions, accusations or even threats, Cassie was caught off guard by his wry taunt. For goodness sakes, did the man assume she was a thorough ninny? she wondered. Only desperation would force her into such ridiculous follies.
“As much a waste of breath as me reminding you that what I choose to do is none of your concern,” she retaliated with a tilt of her chin.
An unexpectedly wicked grin softened the finely chiseled features.
“Perhaps we are both in need of another lesson,” he drawled.
Something perilously close to excitement flared through Cassie even as she took a hasty step backward. She’d had all the lessons she could endure for one day.
“You stay where you are, sir.”
The dark head tilted back as he gave a sudden laugh. “Ah, Lady Greer, you are a delight,” he said. “Unfortunately, I must take my leave. My aunt has demanded my presence for dinner. Unlike you, she appears to appreciate my charms.”
Futilely wishing that Lord Mumford did not possess such an extraordinary ability to unsettle her, Cassie eyed him in a sour manner.
“Is she perfectly well?”
“To the best of my knowledge.” His smile widened. “Although my uncle has been known to disagree.”
“Well, please do not let me detain you, my lord.”
His bow was mockingly elaborate. “A pleasure as always, my lady.”
With a last smile, he crossed to disappear out of the French doors. Cassie slowly raised a hand to her pounding heart.
Never would she become accustomed to the dangerous gentleman.
Never.
* * *
The town house of Lord and Lady Pembroke was a resplendent testament to the ingenuity of Edward Wyatt. Ornate gilding provided a rich contrast to the deep blue velvet wall coverings throughout the vast rooms, along with pier glass fitted to the doors. The lavish style was echoed in the glittering chandeliers and ebony and gilt furnishings.
Not that Luke was allowed to admire the expensive decor. As was the fashion, Lady Pembroke had invited far more guests than could comfortably squeeze into the house. Climbing the marble staircase, Luke suppressed a grimace at the heat and smoke that greeted him.
Why the devil did a London hostess presume that the more uncomfortable their guests, the more successful their gathering?
It was little wonder a reasonable gentleman preferred the comfort of his club, Luke acknowledged even as he summoned a smile for the thin, silver-haired matron holding court on the landing.
Lady Pembroke was the sister to Luke’s late mother and had been a celebrated beauty in her time. A shrewd woman with a taste for comfort, she had chosen a husband who was as rich as he was undemanding. The marriage had flourished remarkably well. Lord Pembroke was allowed his freedom to indulge in his studies of ancient Greek culture, while Lady Pembroke was given an ample income to become a most celebrated hostess. The only blemish on the union was their lack of children.
As a result, Sophia had turned her maternal instincts to the orphanages of London, showering them with both her time and fortune. Her generosity had made her a favorite with Luke, who often added his own wealth to her philanthropic efforts.
Now her thin face lit with surprised pleasure at the sight of him.
“Luke.”
He bowed over her outstretched hand. “Aunt Sophia, as beautiful as ever.”
“Whatever brings you here?”
Luke straightened to regard her with a teasing smile. “I was invited, was I not?”
“You know quite well you are always invited to our modest gatherings,” she retorted, eyeing him in a speculative manner. “However, until this evening you have made a pointed effort to avoid them.”
“How shameless of me.” Luke lifted his quizzing glass to survey the exquisites that were crowded into the open rooms. “Of course, I was quite unaware how delightful a hostess you are.”
“Fah.” A cunning lady who did not suffer fools gladly, Sophia met Luke’s glittering gaze squarely. “What do you want, Luke?”
“Why, Aunt Sophia. Surely you do not consider me such a shocking bore as to pay my respects only when I require something?”
“That is precisely what I think. I also think that you are far too accustomed to having others pander to your every whim,” she retorted in dry tones.
Luke made an unconscious grimace. “Not everyone.”
“Indeed?” Sophia gave a surprised blink. “I should like to meet the rare individual willing to dare your displeasure.”
Luke suppressed a laugh. He had no doubt Sophia would take great delight in Miss Cassandra Stanholte and her habit of treating him as no more than an unwelcome interloper. For now, however, he intended to keep his intimate knowledge of the young lady a close secret.
“I shall introduce you as soon as she arrives in London,” he promised.
“She?” Clearly caught off guard, Sophia grasped his arm to lead him into a nearby alcove. “I demand to know who she is.”
Satisfied that he had suitably piqued his aunt’s curiosity, Luke gave a mild shrug.
“Miss Cassandra Stanholte.”
“Stanholte?” Sophia frowned as she attempted to place the name.
“She currently resides in Devonshire, but she has plans to travel to London for the Season.”
The wide eyes became even wider. Hardly surprising, considering Luke’s notorious distaste for debutantes.
“And what is your particular interest in this Miss Stanholte?”
Luke once again shrugged. “Nothing more than a promise to a friend.”
“Oh?”
“I assured my dear friend I would see Miss Stanholte comfortably established in a proper town house with a suitable companion,” he lied with casual ease.
“You?” Sophia regarded him in blatant disbelief. “Absurd.”
Luke smiled in wry amusement. “Why?”
“What do you possibly know of settling a young lady in a proper establishment?” Sophia demanded.
“Thankfully, not a whit,” Luke confessed, absently smoothing the fold of his intricately knotted cravat. For the occasion he had chosen a black satin coat and pantaloons with a snow white waistcoat. A large ruby glinted against his lapel. Oddly, the severe attire only enhanced the masculine form and darkly handsome features. A fact that was noted by the vast majority of the females throughout the room. “Which is precisely why I have come to you.”
“You wish me to rent an establishment?” Sophia frowned in puzzlement.
“Actually, I plan to have my secretary make the necessary inquiries for a town house.” Luke waved a negligent hand. He could hardly confess he had personally met with an agent today to choose a town house that would suit his very high demands. “What I need from you is a gently bred lady who would agree to act as a chaperon for the remainder of the Season.”
For a long moment his Aunt studied his carefully bland countenance, as if seeking to determine the truth behind his decidedly queer behavior. Luke held his breath. He was going to need the support of Lady Pembroke if his plan to remove Miss Stanholte to a respectable establishment was to succeed.
“I do have a school friend who has fallen upon difficult times,” she at last confessed. “She is currently residing with her brother, a boorish prig whom she will no doubt be delighted to escape, but she is bound to be curious why I should take such an inordinate amount of interest in an unknown Miss straight from the country.” Sophia lifted her brow in a meaningful gesture. “As will all of London.”
Luke was well aware of the risk of scandal. Still, what choice did he have? He could hardly allow Miss Stanholte to remain in her current home.
“I shall rely upon your discretion to avoid any unwelcome gossip,” he responded, his tone somber.
Sophia tilted her head to one side. “I do not suppose I can convince you to tell me the truth?”
As swiftly as it had disappeared, his lazy smile returned. “Whatever do you mean, Aunt Sophia?”
“I may be old, Luke, but I am not entirely beetle-witted,” Sophia pointed out in dry tones. “No gentleman, friend or otherwise, would entrust a susceptible debutante to the care of a noted rake.”
Luke could not resist a low chuckle. “Why, Aunt Sophia, I am deeply shocked.”
“Fah.” She lightly batted him with her fan, even as her gaze narrowed with suspicion. “This lady is ... respectable?”
It was Luke’s turn to be caught off guard. “Do you believe I would attempt to foist my mistress onto Society?”
Sophia shrugged. “It has been known to occur.”
“I assure you, the lady is beyond reproach.”
Luke was once more subjected to that searching, rather quizzical glance.
“I must admit I am intrigued, Luke.”
“Then you will lend me your aid?”
The older woman gave a sudden decisive nod of her head. “I will visit Anne Stowe and inquire if she will be willing to become a chaperon.”
Luke felt a flare of relief at her agreement. With a town house secured and a chaperon discovered, he was quite confident that he would have Miss Stanholte established within a few days. If only he could keep her from blundering into some disaster before then.
“I knew I could depend upon you, Aunt Sophia.” He offered her a roguish grin. “Of all my large and usually tiresome family, you are beyond a doubt my favorite.”
Waving aside his absurd compliment, Sophia regarded him with a simmering curiosity.
“Tell me about this Miss Stanholte,” she demanded.
His smile twisted with a hint of self-mockery. “She is beautiful, intelligent and occasionally charming,” he obligingly described. “She is also a lady of staunch independence who considers me a deplorable cad.”
Sophia’s laughter chimed over the muted din of the guests. “Good for her. I believe I like her already.”
Taking his aunt’s hand, he bowed with exquisite grace. “Now I believe I shall take myself to the card room and sample Uncle Henry’s fine brandy. Pray contact me after you have spoken with Miss Stowe.”
Leaving Lady Pembroke regarding him in a most suspicious manner, Luke made his way through the chattering guests to a back salon. He would pay his respects to his uncle and take his leave.
He had achieved what he wanted.