Chapter Fourteen
LAVINIA PULLED HER cloak a little tighter around her as she darted to the back door of her shop. It was absurd to be a woman of thirty-two sneaking around like she had when she was just sixteen, but it was thrilling too.
The previous evening had whipped her between fear and ecstasy in a way that she could scarcely keep up with. Nearly getting caught by Wark had terrified her, true, but she couldn’t deny the thrill of doing something. For years she’d done exactly what she should, building her business, taking care of her brother, never putting a foot wrong. It had been exciting to toe the line of danger even if she wasn’t sure that anything she’d found out that evening would be of help to the cause.
More than anything, however, the evening had been worth it for the expression on Andrew’s face when she’d burst through the door bearing those slips of paper. He’d looked at her with such relief and perhaps a little joy too. That was the reason she’d slid so easily into his arms. It had been too long since any man had lit up when she walked into a room, happy that she was there.
And oh, what a wonder it had been falling back into letting him love her body. It wasn’t just that he’d remembered the things that could make her purr and cry out in swift succession. Just as she had, he’d become a more experienced lover, schooled by need over the years. She might’ve expected that it would make her jealous, but instead it excited her. This was the Andrew she’d known and the Andrew she’d never imagined.
A little smile played on her lips as she pulled out her key and let herself into the kitchen of her shop, swiftly closing the door behind her.
“It’s nearly five o’clock.”
Lavinia whipped around with a gasp. Her brother, a man who rarely rose before nine, was seated in a chair before the stove.
“Caleb, what are you doing here?” she asked, her hand pressed against her chest to try to still the rapid beating of her heart.
Her brother toyed with the handle of a teacup set out in front of him. “I haven’t gone to bed. And neither have you.”
“But you left,” she said.
“I came back thinking that if Wark ran you home in his carriage, he might try something.”
She sighed. Caleb, misguided though he might sometimes be, had been trying to protect her.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, frowning at the stove. The embers had died down and there was hardly any coal in the scuttle. Normally Lavinia would refill it each morning after raking out the stove, and it appeared Caleb hadn’t bothered to do it. Or maybe he didn’t know how.
“What will the neighbors think of your sneaking back home at five o’clock in the morning?” her brother asked.
“That I’ve had a jolly time wherever I’ve been,” she said in jest, but all it did was draw his lips into an even tighter grimace.
“I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to conduct your life—”
“But you will,” said Lavinia.
“You have a reputation to uphold,” he said.
“So I’m acutely aware.”
He cleared his throat. “On the other hand, you could do worse than Mr. Wark. He is your landlord, after all.”
Lavinia’s eyebrows jumped. “Are you suggesting that I conduct an affair with Mr. Wark in exchange for his forgiving the rent money?”
“What? No!” Caleb sputtered. “I’m suggesting you marry the man.”
Lavinia began to laugh.
“I don’t see what’s so absurd about the suggestion,” her brother grouched. “It isn’t as though you haven’t thought about it before. If you married him, you’d never have to work again,” her brother pressed.
“I like working! It’s the one thing in my life that’s been entirely mine.”
“Mr. Wark could elevate your situation,” said her brother.
“You’re starting to sound like Mamma,” she said.
“I know you resent her pushing you into marrying Alistair, but was it so wrong for her to want what was best for your future?” he asked.
“No,” she said, slashing her hand through the air to cut the conversation dead where it stood. “You weren’t there, Caleb. You were off playing at being a wealthy wastrel in Edinburgh while I was at home with my grief. You don’t have the right to tell me how to feel about that time.”
“Mamma and Papa only wanted what was best for you.”
“Did they though? They never asked me if I wanted a husband. I never said yes to any proposal.”
They stole my chance at happiness and you were nowhere to be seen, she wanted to shout. Describing it all to Andrew less than an hour ago had broken her heart all over again. They could’ve had a chance—a real chance at love—but instead she’d seen what it could be like when the man she loved turned against her. He’d spent so long believing in her betrayal, she could hardly have hoped for his forgiveness let alone a reconciliation. Yet hadn’t that been what this night was about? It felt like a renewal, a rebirth, a second chance.
“I was sorry when we thought Andrew died too,” said Caleb. “You weren’t the only one who was upset.”
But I was the one who loved him.
“He’s here,” she said, her voice flat.
“What?”
“He’s here in Edinburgh.”
Caleb’s expression sharpened. “Is that where you were? Slumming with a ferryman’s son?”
It took just three steps for Lavinia to cross the gap to her brother’s chair. Her cloak slipped a little on her shoulders when she leaned down, bringing her face close to his. “When our parents died, I promised myself that I would take care of you because that is what family does for one another. However, I don’t have to endure your complaints or give you money every time you ask. I also don’t have to indulge you coming to my home at all hours and passing judgment on how I choose to live my life. I have been nothing but tolerant for years, but if you are ever disrespectful of Andrew to me again, you may find yourself someone else to pay off your debts.”
Caleb’s mouth worked noiselessly several times until finally he managed to croak out, “Come now, Livy. You know I can be a cad sometimes. I was only joking.”
“I’m going to bed to get some sleep,” Lavinia announced, straightening. “And from now on, if you come to this house, you will be expected to work. You can begin by helping Kelsie cut out patterns.”
“Cut out patterns,” her brother repeated, dumbstruck.
“That’s where Kelsie began her apprenticeship, and that is where you’ll start yours. No one in this house eats unless they also work.”
Lavinia left her brother sitting there, staring into the faintly glowing stove and looking more like a man old before his time than ever.
Lavinia slept for a few hours that morning, not rising until nine—an extraordinarily late hour for a woman who usually took advantage of the peace of the morning to review accounts and appointments and make sure she was ready for the day, but she felt it was her due. When she awoke, she stretched long and lithe on the soft sheets of her bed, a delicious throb between her legs and the tenderness of her nipples reminding her of Andrew.
She dressed quickly, donning a simple dress of light gray with playful loops of black piping at the cuffs and neck, and clattered down the stairs in her serviceable black boots. She’d be going out today, as she was due to make a call to Lady Barrett’s Rothesay Place home, where she’d fit Mrs. Moray and the lady of the household. Both women ranked among Mrs. Sullivan’s clients, and both had made happy marriages, with Lady Barrett expecting her first child with the baronet in five months’ time.
On her way down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Lavinia stuck her head into the workshop.
“Siobhan, could you . . .” She trailed off before she could finish the sentence, because her brother was in the workshop wearing a plain blue coat and standing next to the cutting table. He was folding a piece of inexpensive calico in half under Kelsie’s watchful eye.
When Caleb looked up, there was challenge in his eyes. “I came for breakfast.”
Whether he liked it or not, her brother had heard Lavinia and stayed to show her he understood. It wasn’t an accord or a peace offering, but it was something.
“I was just looking for Siobhan,” Lavinia said slowly.
“He is cutting,” said Siobhan, stepping into view from between several stacked bolts of fabric.
“I see that,” said Lavinia, glancing at Caleb again.
“He says he must if he’s to have any food. Doesn’t he have an occupation?” Siobhan asked.
Sometimes she wondered that herself.
“We’ve so much work and my having to go to dinner yesterday didn’t help. We can use all the extra hands we can get,” she said.
“What can I do?” asked Siobhan.
“Mrs. Moray’s and Lady Barrett’s dresses. Could you package them? I’ll take them directly for their final fittings,” she said.
“It’s a wonder Lady Barrett’s ordering a new dress with her confinement so near,” said Siobhan.
“She’s only four months along, and we discussed a design that could be easily altered after the birth.”
“Confinement? Is this the sort of thing you all speak about up here?” asked her brother.
Siobhan’s mouth pressed into a line as she tried to hold back her laughter. “You’ll be wanting a cup of tea. I’ll see to the gowns.”
Downstairs, Lavinia filled the kettle. She’d just set it on the stove plate to boil when a rap came on the back door. When she opened it, Anika was standing on the step, a thick shawl wrapped tightly around her with the cold condensing her breath.
“Good morning,” said Lavinia.
“Tea,” Anika croaked, and pushed past her into the warm kitchen. “How you can stand this weather, I don’t know.”
Lavinia grinned. “You’re either born with it in your blood or you aren’t.”
“You wouldn’t last a week in the Bombay heat,” Anika grumbled.
“You’re probably right,” said Lavinia, pulling a chair out from the little table where she took her meals when she had only a few moments between appointments.
“Hari doesn’t mind the cold,” Anika continued, sitting down and spreading her hands before the stove. “He never complains about it.”
“Scotland’s in his bones,” said Lavinia with a shrug.
Anika snorted. “He’s a little boy who never stops moving. That’s why he’s never cold. But I didn’t come to talk about the weather.”
“No?” asked Lavinia, pulling down stoneware mugs for their tea.
“What happened at Mr. Wark’s house?” Anika asked.
“He gave us dinner.”
“There must be more than that,” said Anika. “Were any of your clients there? Perhaps someone recognized you and there’s set to be a terrible scandal.”
“Why do you sound so thrilled at the idea of any of those things happening?” asked Lavinia.
This time it was her friend who shrugged. “A little scandal would liven the street up. All Mrs. Gantry ever wants to gossip about is that Mr. McGregor on Chambers Street sneaks weights onto the scales when he’s measuring out meat.”
“As though the butcher hasn’t been doing that for as long as I’ve been in this shop,” said Lavinia.
“Exactly. No good gossip.”
She cast a glance to the open door that revealed the stairs leading up to the workshop. Unwise though it might be, she wanted to tell someone what had happened yesterday. She was practically bursting with her excitement that after all of these years she and Andrew were as explosive as ever—maybe more so. That was the sort of thing a woman should share with her closest friend.
“After the supper I saw Andrew,” she said.
Anika’s eyes widened. “Captain Colter? Where?”
“His office.” Lavinia paused and took a deep breath. “And his rooms.”
“And I assume you didn’t spend that time discussing innocent childhood memories,” said her friend.
“We did some of that, but after.”
Anika threw her head back with a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” asked Lavinia, heat rising in her cheeks. She hadn’t worried that Anika would call her names or threaten to ruin her, but she hadn’t exactly expected to become a source of amusement either.
“Nothing,” said Anika, slowing to a chuckle. “I was just thinking about what that fool Wark would think if he were to ever find out.”
“He can’t know, Anika. No one can,” said Lavinia in a rush.
Her friend waved her hand in front of her. “You’ve nothing to worry about from me. I couldn’t care less if you let half the Royal Navy make love to you.”
Lavinia squirmed at the phrase “make love,” loaded as it was with meaning. It had been so long since she’d felt the sort of physical intimacy and emotional connection that she had with Andrew. This had been a rational, logical decision made by two unattached adults with a shared past. Nothing like half the Royal Navy.
She shook her head. This had happened because he was Andrew and she’d wanted him. Plain and simple.
“It seems as though neither of us never really let go despite everything that happened,” she said. “Do you think me terribly wicked?”
“I’d think you a fool if you had. The man is more handsome than anyone has a right to be.”
Lavinia laughed. “I don’t know what that means.”
“I think you do,” said her friend with a sparkle in her eye.
“Anika, you’re a happily married woman,” said Lavinia, pretending shock.
“I’m married, not dead, and I have two eyes that work perfectly well. I can see the way that man looks at you. And before you start to worry, I don’t think he has a single idea that you look at him the same way.”
Lavinia blushed. “It’s only natural that a woman who has slept with a man before should want to do it again.”
“Only if it’s enjoyable,” said Anika as the kettle began to whistle. “From the dark circles under your eyes, I’m going to guess that it was.”
“It was,” said Lavinia. More than she’d ever known it would be.
The bells over the shop’s front door jangled. Lavinia was prepared to ignore them, knowing that Fiona would be at her station behind the counter, ready to help her customer. A few seconds later, however, Fiona came tumbling through the kitchen door.
“Mr. Wark is here to see you, Mrs. Parkem,” said Fiona, bobbing a curtsy Lavinia had long ago told her wasn’t necessary.
“What is he doing here?” she groaned. She knew Wark was still her responsibility, and her discoveries the previous evening had made her even more inclined to help Andrew figure out the man’s plans. But she wasn’t yet prepared to deal with her landlord while the bloom of her evening with Andrew was still fresh.
“Shall I tell him to come another time?” Fiona asked, her voice trembling.
“No,” said Lavinia, knowing the young girl didn’t like dealing with the domineering landlord. “I’ll see him. Anika, if you’d like tea—”
When she turned, she found her friend was already on her feet, shaking out the pleats of her orange and yellow sari. “And miss this?”
With a sigh, Lavinia nodded, removed the kettle from the stove, and led their little band of three out to the front room.
“Mr. Wark,” she said brightly, clasping her hands in front of her, “what can I do for you this morning?”
The man looked from Lavinia to Anika and back again. “I had hoped to speak to Mrs. Parkem in private.”
Not on your life. She was willing to do quite a bit in the name of stopping this man and his plans, but intentionally being alone with him—even in the safety of her store—was not one of them.
“I’m afraid it’s such a busy morning,” she said. “Fiona is restocking the shop and Mrs. Pawar has been helping me fill orders. We’ve made so many dresses for the prince’s ball that it’s a wonder we haven’t run out of cloth entirely.”
“Not a single tailor in the city seems to be well supplied,” he said.
“Did you have a new suit of evening clothes made just for the ball?” Anika asked, a teasing twinkle Lavinia knew Wark would hate sparkling in her eye.
“My tailor is in London,” he said.
Lavinia’s brow furrowed. London? If Wark’s clothes were made in London, why did he have payments to an Edinburgh tailor in his ledger?
He cleared his throat. “I hope you enjoyed your time at dinner yesterday.”
She stared a moment before remembering the role she was supposed to play here and rushed to nod. “Very much. I must apologize again for fainting.”
Anika looked at her sharply, but she gave a little shake of her head.
“Ladies are delicate creatures,” he said. “It’s only surprising it doesn’t happen more often.”
No one in her life had ever described Lavinia as delicate—not with her generous hips and breasts—but if that was the way Wark wanted to think of her, fine. With any luck, he’d be languishing in jail in less than two weeks.
“It’s that delicacy that sometimes makes me wonder that you should want to run this shop,” he said, assessing the neatly stacked bolts of cloth and little drawers filled with buttons.
“I very much like having something of my own that I’ve grown. Rather like you did with your business,” she said.
He laughed. “I own mills and export thousands of tons of wool every year. It’s hardly anything like a dressmaker’s shop.”
Anika coughed, and Lavinia’s hands squeezed into fists. Was the man deliberately trying to enrage her?
“Besides,” Wark continued, “I’ve always believed that cultivating ambition in a woman is misguided. It’s far better for them to marry.”
Lavinia had always thought “to bite one’s tongue” was a ridiculous expression—why would that ever keep someone from saying something imprudent?—but that was exactly what she did now. The sting of pain as her teeth pressed on the muscle kept her from saying exactly what Wark could do with his opinion about ambitious women.
“That’s all very enlightening,” she said slowly through gritted teeth.
With his back to her, Wark couldn’t see the horror on Anika’s face as Lavinia placated the man, but Lavinia could. One of these days, she was going to sit Anika down and tell her every little bit of what had been going on during this conversation.
“Well, I can’t stay long, so I will reach the reason for my visit,” said Wark. “I should be very honored if you would reconsider my offer and agree to accompany me to the prince’s ball.”
Lavinia stilled. The prince’s ball. Andrew wasn’t entirely convinced, but to her it seemed like the one place where Wark seemed the most likely to strike. If his goal was to assassinate the prince—which she was increasingly convinced it was—then where better for her to be than at the side of the man running the entire operation? With Wark, she’d know whom he spoke to and where he went. She might even be able to stop him.
Andrew wouldn’t like this at all, but she could stand to incur a little more of his ire in the name of this cause.
“I should be delighted,” she heard herself say.
A smarmy, wolfish smile spread over Wark’s lips. “Excellent. It should be a most eventful evening.”