Jade Lee - [Bridal Favors 03] (19 page)

Irene was still reeling the next morning—er, noon—as she got out of bed, her own bed at home. He had escorted her there well before midnight, bowing over her hand as he took his leave. He’d left her in body, but at night, she’d dreamed such images of him. Not only his face as he possessed her, but the way he looked when he was laughing. Then there was that secret smile he sometimes gave her or the way he often appeared to be listening, his head cocked to one side, even though no one was speaking.

It was the way he thought, she supposed. Listening to himself as he worked through a problem. She did much the same, although she usually chewed on a fingernail or her lower lip. In any event, she found the sight endearing. And his presence haunting.

So it was of no surprise that when she descended the stairs for a late breakfast, she found a dozen hothouse roses waiting. She didn’t have to look at the card to know they were from Grant. She did anyway, and the words she found there left her smiling.

I thank you for the taste of your laughter, the sound of your beauty, and the sweet sight of your sighs. You twist me backwards and around, but I adore it. Thank you.

“Is that poetry?” asked her mother-in-law as the woman peered over her shoulder.

Irene spun around, startled that she’d been so absorbed in Grant’s message that she hadn’t even heard the woman’s approach.

“Yes, of a sort, I suppose.”

“Odd. Who’s it from?” Then before Irene could answer, Mama gave her a giggly smile. “Is it Lord Crowle? He’s so very handsome, you know. And an earl! But then you’re a daughter of an earl, so I suppose it’s not so fancy for you. But just imagine!”

Irene flushed and looked away. After all, part of her still felt like a wife to their son, even though Nate had been gone for years now. “I… um…”

Her mother-in-law squeezed her arm, and when Irene looked up, she was startled to see tears in the woman’s eyes. “Nate loved you to distraction, you know, but he’s gone. You’ve grieved him, and I feared that you would never come out of black. But look at you now.” She gestured to Irene’s gentle blue gown. It was made of thick cotton, fashionable, but serviceable. And it was definitely not black.

“I will always love Nate.”

“You are a young woman who should have children at her feet. Papa and I would never want you to end with him.” She dabbed her eyes with a lacy scrap of a handkerchief. “I should like to dance at another wedding before I am too old.”

Irene smiled, but inside, her heart trembled. Surely the woman understood what society thought of her now. Surely she knew… but of course, she did not. After all, Irene had simply said a dinner party. Not who would attend. Nor that she would appear as hostess, and therefore, declare to anyone who cared that she was Grant’s mistress.

That word—mistress—caused a tightening in her gut, but her soul seemed to sing at the idea. So she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her mother-in-law’s cheek. “You are the best mother a girl could have.”

“And you the best daughter,” the woman returned in her usual blustery good cheer, especially as she drew Irene to the side entry table. “And look what has come today!” She held up five elegant envelopes, all clearly invitations. “We are invited to balls! Can you imagine? These are yours…” She examined three envelopes and handed them to Irene. “And these! They’re for me, and a guest! Of course, I shall bring Mrs. Schmitz. It was ever the most exciting time in her life at Lady Redhill’s ball. And now, we are invited to two more!”

Irene looked at the invitations, reading them quickly as her mind whirled. She knew these women. All three were friends of Helaine’s. Which meant her dear friend had prevailed upon others to bring Irene out of her obscure little corner of London and into the
ton
as she had never been. As the daughter of an earl, she had once expected these invitations as her due. But she’d been an
impoverished
daughter, and so some things had been decidedly lacking. And now…

She shook her head. Clearly, she couldn’t decline. Not with Mama looking so excited—the woman was likely to explode. But once in the fashionable throng—even as something so little as a matron who sat on the sidelines with her friend—the woman would eventually hear the truth. She would learn what Irene was to Grant. And then, what would Irene do? How could she face the couple that treated her as their daughter?

“We should go, don’t you think?” the lady asked, quivering in her excitement. “It would be good to get out, and I think it would be such a treat for Mrs. Schmitz.”

Irene laughed. How could she not? And how could she deny her Mama such fun? “But of course we should go!” she said. Then she sobered a little. “Provided you understand that not everyone in the
ton
will be pleasant. You know that, right?”

The older woman’s eyes softened, and she touched Irene’s cheek. “I am a German cit, my dear. Of course I know. But I will be able to see you there and watch you dance. And maybe that handsome Lord Crowle will ask me onto the floor for something easy. When I was a little girl, I would spin around and around until I fell down. My mother once said…”

The memories went on, one after the other in a lovely parade of words. Irene had heard them all, of course, but not at a time in her life when she had the wisdom to appreciate the repetition. It was good to see Mama so happy, and good too to share in the excitement of preparing for a party. They started talking new clothes and new shoes as they wandered into the dining room, and Irene was served strong tea and a biscuit, as was her custom. Until about ten minutes later when Papa entered the room accompanied by a jowled, broad-shouldered fellow with kind brown eyes.

Mama cut off her words immediately, her eyes growing worried as she looked at the two men, which, naturally, set Irene on edge. Meanwhile, Papa stepped forward and bussed her on the cheek. All perfectly normal, but when he squeezed her extra hard and held on even longer, Irene’s alarm nearly cut off her breath.

Then before she could speak, her father-in-law stood back and gestured to the man at his side. “Irene, I think it’s time you met the copper who has been loitering about lately. This is Mr. Tanner. Don’t know as you’ve seen him—”

She hadn’t, although now that she thought about it, she might have noticed him a couple times smoking a pipe at a corner somewhere.

“He’s been trailing you for the last few days,” Papa continued. “You should have told me that you were attacked. It’s not the sort of thing a man wants to find out from a Bow Street Runner.”

Irene blinked. “It was just a footpad,” she said softly, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue.

Mr. Tanner had his hat in his hand, and he dipped his head when he spoke. “Begging your pardon, Lady Irene, but it weren’t just a footpad, and so I’ve been hired to watch you when the others can’t.”

She frowned, thinking back as she put the sequence in order. After all, the men had set up a watch just last night at the party. But he’d said he’d been watching her for a couple days now.

“When were you hired?”

“Samuel—Mr. Morrison, that is—put me on a couple days ago. Spoke here with your papa immediately, and we’ve been keeping an eye out. But miss, I think it’s time you understood things a little better. You’re in danger, Lady Irene, and I don’t like you taking up with strange children nobody knows or going about your day into the docks. It’s too hard to watch you.”

“Strange children? What are you talking about? And how do you know about my day?”

At which point Mama suddenly gasped, flattening her hand against her mouth in a cry of guilt. Everyone turned, and she immediately dropped her hand. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot! There’s a girl in the kitchen. Scrawny thing, half starved. Very polite, and not that bright. Sent here from St. Clement’s. Said Father Michael sent her as your servant.”

“Carol!” Irene gasped. She’d forgotten all about the girl she’d hired to be her secretary.

Meanwhile, Mama looked to the copper. “She’s done no harm. Just sat in the kitchen. Do you really think that poor little thing is a danger?”

The man shook his head, his jowls quivering enough to make him look like a bulldog. “Easy enough to check her credentials, but it makes my job harder, you see. We all want Lady Irene kept safe.”

Irene swallowed, her mind spinning. “This is unreal,” she murmured. “It was a footpad.”

Which, of course, was a flat out lie. After all, hadn’t they just spent the last two days suspecting Grant’s brother of murderous intent? But it was only one frightening incident. Or perhaps two. Over a period of months. She had lived for so long convincing herself that her vague fears were a product of her imagination that having her family suddenly take them seriously made her question her own sanity. What if they were making such a huge fuss over nothing?

“It’s a frightening thing, to be sure, Lady Irene. But we’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“We?” she murmured.

Papa straightened up. “I’ve brought in a few men—sailors I’ve known for years—to serve as footmen around the house. Hired them months ago, actually, when you first said someone was following you. Had some nasty business with some sailors then, and I thought it prudent. For all of us.”

She blinked. So he
had
taken her concerns seriously?
Months
ago?

“And you’re not to go to the docks,” continued her father-in-law. “I know you think your job is important—”

“I need to go there! That’s where the cargo is! That’s where the deals are made.”

Papa nodded, his expression grim. “It’s too dangerous,” he said flatly. “And I should never have let you take that ridiculous job. You’re a lady, Irene. The daughter of an earl and my son’s wife. Ridiculous to have you gadding about like any tinker’s get.”

Irene set down her teacup, straightening slowly out of her seat. Still at the table, her mother-in-law released a heavy sigh. “Don’t be upset, dear. He’s just frightened for you. We all are.”

She knew that. She was frightened too. But she couldn’t live her life as if someone were about to kill her. Didn’t they understand how easy it would be for her to take to her bed again? To crawl under the covers and never come out? She didn’t care if there were armed assailants right outside her door. If she allowed herself the smallest bit of fear, then she would collapse.

“And what about the balls?” she asked, her mouth latching onto the least of her concerns. “Am I to be locked inside the house forever?”

Mr. Tanner shifted his feet nervously. “I can’t say I like it, but Lord Crowle said he would be with you every second. Then there’s the other gents keeping an eye out. He wants you to live yer life—going to parties and the like—”

“And the docks? I have a meeting this afternoon.
The
Singing
Lady
came in yesterday. I’m to meet with its captain about some silks.”

“That can wait—” grumbled her Papa, but Irene was already shaking her head.

“It
cannot
wait as the shop is in desperate need of those silks.”

Mr. Tanner dipped his head. “I already knew about the shipment, my lady.”

“What?”

“Apologies, but you don’t keep your schedule secret. I found out about it from your Papa. I’d guessed you’d want to go no matter what he said—”

“You are correct in that.”

“So Lord Crowle and I are going with you. Keep an eye out, fetch and carry, and the like—”

“You can have a few of my men too,” interjected Papa.

“But we all thought it prudent that you stop doing business like this. Just until the danger’s past.”

“But we don’t really know that there
is
danger.”

Silence met her statement, long and pointed. Not surprising, given that even she’d grown weary of her own denials. But it was the only way she kept the fear from strangling her.

She pushed up from her seat. “For the moment, I will see this child in the kitchen. Then we will go on to
The
Singing
Lady
.”

“And don’t forget,” inserted Mama. “Lord Crowle is coming to take you driving in Hyde Park this afternoon.”

Irene stared at her mother-in-law. “What?”

The woman colored. “Oh, did I forget that too? The messenger said that most specifically when he brought the flowers. Lord Crowle hopes you haven’t forgotten your appointment to walk this afternoon in Hyde Park.”

Mr. Tanner’s heavy sigh echoed through the room. “Just makes me job harder.”

Irene blinked. “You can’t possibly think someone would attack in the middle of Hyde Park?”

“Probably not,” he answered. “But I’ll be speaking with Lord Crowle about the details.”

He wasn’t the only one who would be speaking to Lord Crowle. Meanwhile, Irene turned to the kitchen. It was time to meet her new urchin assistant. Sadly, she was followed by her in-laws and Mr. Tanner. At least she gestured them to stay in the background as she pushed into the kitchen.

The child was indeed Carol, the girl she’d met so many days ago at St. Clement’s Church. She was scrawny with dark plaited hair and large brown eyes. She sat at the main kitchen worktable, her plate empty and her eyes drowsy from what was probably her first real meal in days. But when Irene caught her attention, the girl abruptly leaped to her feet and performed an awkward curtsy. Then she gripped her hands together and kept her head tilted down. Yet as downcast as her body’s attitude was, her eyes were alive and constantly moving, as if she couldn’t quite trust her surroundings.

Irene pulled out a chair and sat in front of the girl. “Hello Carol. Is your mother feeling better then?”

“Yes, my lady. Her cough is nearly gone now, and so I were free to come work for you.”

Irene glanced at Mr. Tanner. “This is Carol Owen. I met her a few days back at St. Clement’s, and I promised her a job.” She looked to the girl, who nodded sagely as she passed an envelope to Irene.

“It’s from Father Michael,” the girl said quietly. “I passed his tests. I know my sums and can read. My memory is excellent, and… and I’m stronger than I look.”

Irene smiled as she scanned the contents of Father Michael’s letter. It was exactly as Carol said, except for the strong part. The poor thing was much too tiny. She was on the verge of accepting the girl when Mr. Tanner stepped forward.