November 28th, 1808
Devonshire
Letty watched Reid and Houghton plow their way through breakfast. Reid was embarrassed by memory of last night—she’d seen it in the way his cheeks had colored faintly when he’d first entered the room—but at least he was able to meet her eyes this morning. His manner became easier as the minutes passed. By the time breakfast was over, it was as if the intimacies in his bedchamber had never happened.
But they had happened. She could remember what he’d done to her, what she’d done to him. Those latter memories were the ones she dwelled on, the ones she returned to time and time again: Reid’s taste and his scent, the shape of him in her mouth, the heat and the smooth hardness, the helpless noises he’d uttered. And most precious of all—the memory she hugged to herself—was the expression of dazed bliss on his face afterwards.
Reid pushed away his plate. “The carriages are ordered for twelve thirty. Sergeant Houghton and I have a little business to attend to. We’ll be back by twelve fifteen at the latest. Will you be all right here?”
Letty nodded, and sipped her tea.
Houghton pushed his chair back. “I’ll just fetch my hat, sir.”
Reid stayed seated. When the door had closed, he said, “I want to buy him a pocket watch. I think he’ll refuse it. He’s touchy about charity.”
Letty folded her napkin. “If you make it a gift?”
“That’s what I was intending, but I don’t think he’ll be comfortable with it.” He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.
“Buy him a watch from a pawn shop. Something cheap, but functional.”
“A pawn shop?” Reid frowned thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s an idea.” The frown cleared. “An excellent idea! And then I’ll leave him my watch in my will. He can’t object to that!”
Letty almost choked on her tea.
Reid didn’t notice. He was pushing back his chair. “Is there anything I can get for you in town?”
Letty managed a stiff smile. “No, thank you.” She stood and walked to the window and looked blindly out. Reid still intends to die? Hot tears rushed to her eyes. What should she do? Yell at him? Grab his coat lapels and shake him? Slap him? Or sit on the floor at his feet and cry?
Outside, a coach-and-four pulled up with a faint clatter of wheels and jingle of harnesses. A liveried footman jumped down from the rumble seat and hurried to let down the steps.
If she told him it would break her heart if he died, would Reid change his mind?
Perhaps. But what a terrible burden to place on him; Reid had burdens enough. And what does my heart mean to him anyway? He didn’t want her love. All he wanted from her was her ability to hear lies.
The coach had a team of matched blacks and a nobleman’s crest on the door. A lady stepped down from the carriage. Letty blinked back her tears. The lady was elegant, notably pregnant, and wore spectacles. A second lady descended the steps, also pregnant, but of diminutive stature and pretty rather than elegant—and then two men. Letty stiffened, and stared.
“What?” Reid said, coming to stand beside her.
“Lord Cosgrove and Sir Barnaby Ware.”
“Suitors of yours?”
“No.” Letty peered down at the two men. They stood talking to one another. As she watched, Cosgrove said something, grinning, that made Sir Barnaby throw back his head and laugh. “They’re friends again.”
“Friends?”
“They always were friends—best of friends!—and then Cosgrove’s first wife died and there was a dreadful scandal, and they fell out, and I was so sorry, because I liked them both very much.” She examined the two ladies. “Those must be their wives.” Who was married to whom? Sir Barnaby answered her question, giving his arm to the petite blonde, smiling down at her, laying his hand on top of hers.
Letty turned away from the window. “I must fetch my veil. If they’re staying here . . .”
She hurried from the private parlor.
Her desire to indulge in a bout of tears was thwarted by Eliza’s presence in her bedchamber. “I’ve laid out your traveling cloak, ma’am, and your hat,” she said cheerfully. “And the packing’s almost done.”
“Thank you.” Letty placed the hat on her head, arranged the veil over it, and retreated back to the private parlor. It was empty, but even so, she dared not cry. A servant might walk in at any moment.
She sat by the window, rigidly tense, rigidly miserable. Damn you, Icarus Reid. How could he not see that he had every reason to live?
He can’t see it, because he’s a soldier. Breath, blood and bones, a soldier.
It didn’t matter that Reid had endured more than any man could be expected to endure. It didn’t matter that his confession hadn’t cost General Wellesley the battle, that no Englishmen had died because of it. What mattered was his betrayal.
Reid was a soldier, and he’d betrayed his own side, and his life had stopped at that point.
Letty sat with clasped hands and bowed head. What do I say to him? How do I make him see that he deserves to live?
Everything that she could think of saying, she’d already said.
A distant clock struck twelve sonorous notes. Letty sighed, and stood, and crossed to the door. The corridor was empty, but a voice floated to her ears. An agitated voice. “But I didn’t, ma’am! I’m no thief!”
“You may tell that to the constable,” a woman grimly replied.
Letty headed in the direction of the voices, and found herself looking up a staircase. The landlord’s wife and a chambermaid were descending. The chambermaid’s face was flushed and swollen from crying.
“Excuse me, madam,” Letty said, raising her veil. “May I ask what’s the matter?”
The landlady halted, and looked her up and down. With obvious effort, her mouth found a smile. “Mrs. Reid. Nothing’s the matter. Just a little misunderstanding with one of the maids. I apologize if we disturbed you.”
“You didn’t disturb me. But I shall be very disturbed if you take this young woman to the constable.”
The landlady lost her smile.
“I have an ear for the truth and I can tell you that your servant is speaking truthfully. Whatever has been lost, she didn’t take.”
The landlady eyed Letty. “Lady Shipley said she did.”
“Then Lady Shipley is mistaken. May I ask what’s missing?”
The landlady hesitated, and then said, “A pair of earrings. Diamond earrings.”
Letty looked at the weeping chambermaid. “Did you take them?”
The girl shook her head frantically. “No, ma’am!”
“Do you know who took them?”
“No!”
Letty transferred her gaze to the landlady. “Your maid is telling the truth. The earrings must have been misplaced.”
“Lady Shipley’s room has been searched twice, top to toe,” the landlady said heavily, and Letty saw that the grimness was a mask. Beneath it, the woman was almost as upset as the chambermaid. “And her luggage has been searched, too. I saw to it myself.”
“Then perhaps Lady Shipley is mistaken. Perhaps she never brought the earrings with her at all.”
“She wore them yesterday,” the landlady said, even more heavily. “And Martha here is the only one who’s been in that room.”
No wonder the poor girl was distraught. A maidservant’s words against a noblewoman’s. The girl could find herself transported.
“Lady Shipley doesn’t have a maid?”
“Not with her. She was taken ill.”
As was my fictitious maid. Letty began to feel a strong interest in meeting Lady Shipley. “I’m not familiar with Lady Shipley. Where does she come from?”
“Yorkshire.”
Very far away.
“Where is she now? I’d like to speak with her.”
The landlady glanced up the staircase. Letty’s ears caught the sound of slow, measured footsteps descending. The landlady heard them, too. She looked at Letty.
“I promise I shan’t make matters worse,” Letty said. “And I will very likely make them much better.”
The landlady hesitated a moment, then towed the maid down the last two steps to the landing and thrust the girl behind her, so she was half-hidden. Then she composed her face and folded her hands at her waist.
The footsteps grew more audible. Creak, creak, went the stair treads. The stiff black bombazine hem of a gown appeared, and then the gown itself, and then its wearer’s face.
Lady Shipley was a stout woman, with graying hair and a square fleshy face. She had a small, displeased mouth and an imperious nose. A high-crowned black bonnet sat on her head, and in one black-gloved hand she carried a black reticule. She halted on the final step and looked down her beaked nose at them.
“Lady Shipley?” Letty asked.
Lady Shipley stared coldly at her for several seconds, and then inclined her head. “I am Lady Shipley.”
Letty listened to the clang in her ears, and felt her heartbeat speed up. “My name is Reid. I understand that you’ve lost some earrings. Perhaps I can help find them?”
“They are not lost; they’ve been stolen.” The words were spoken in an icy, affronted voice—and were wholly false. Lady Shipley transferred her arctic glare from Letty to the landlady. “And if you expect me to pay my bill, when one of your thieving servants has stolen earrings worth three thousand pounds, you are quite mistaken!”
The landlady opened her mouth, but Letty lifted two fingers in a tiny gesture, silencing her.
“I understand that your room has been searched twice, but are you quite certain that the earrings are missing?”
“Of course I’m certain!”
Clang.
“Perhaps they’re in your reticule? Or in a pocket?”
Lady Shipley drew herself up majestically. “They most certainly are not!”
Clang.
Letty tried to smile diffidently. “Are you certain they’re not in a pocket? I myself have misplaced items in pockets.”
“They are not in a pocket!” A bell-tone of truth underlay the irate voice.
Letty’s eyes caught movement: coming up the stairs were the landlord and a wide-eyed, anxious young waiter. The landlord looked as grim as his wife.
“Then your reticule, perhaps?”
Lady Shipley swelled with indignation. “Of course they’re not in my reticule! Do you think I’ve not looked there a dozen times already?”
Clang.
The landlord hurried forward, his hands clasped in petition. “Lady Shipley—”
Lady Shipley swung to face him. “I demand to leave this thieves’ den of a hotel!” she said, in a carrying voice. “I have never been more shocked in my life. You may be certain I shall tell all my acquaintances in London!” She caught sight of the maidservant, cringing behind the landlady, and swelled with wrath. “There she is! That nasty little thief! Why is she not clapped in irons? Where is the constable?”
The landlord gestured to the white-faced waiter. The lad turned and hurried down the stairs.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Letty said. “Lady Shipley’s earrings have not been stolen.”
Everyone swung to face her. The waiter halted on the stairs, and looked back up at her.
“Lady Shipley’s earrings are in her reticule.”
Lady Shipley inhaled an outraged breath, her chest swelling majestically. “They most certainly are not!”
Clang.
Letty smiled politely. “They’re in your reticule, Lady Shipley. I suggest you take another look.”
Lady Shipley clutched the reticule to her bosom. “I have never been so insulted in my life!”
“On second thoughts,” Letty said. “Perhaps we should call for a constable, and he can look in your reticule?”
Lady Shipley lifted her jowled chin even higher. Was that panic in the dark eyes? “I refuse to listen to any more of this nonsense.”
Letty glanced down the staircase and met the waiter’s eyes. “Fetch the constable. And hurry!”
A spasm of panic crossed Lady Shipley’s face. “No! Wait!”
The waiter halted in mid-step.
There was a long moment of silence, when no one moved. Letty saw Lady Shipley swallow convulsively, saw her eyes dart from side to side as if looking for an escape.
“Would you like to check it now, while we’re all here? That way no mistakes can be made.” Letty caught the landlord’s eye and tried to convey a message.
The man must have understood it. He stepped forward. “A good idea. Best to check, before the constable comes.” His voice was not quite neutral, and held a hint of steel.
An occasional table stood in the corridor. The landlord took the vase from it and gave it to his wife, then opened his hand in a gesture. “You may empty your reticule here, Lady Shipley.”
Lady Shipley clutched the reticule more tightly to her massive bosom. “I had rather do it in my room.”
“I had rather you did it here.” The steel was unmistakable this time.
Lady Shipley hesitated.
The landlord glanced down the staircase. “Walter, the constable.”
The waiter didn’t move; Lady Shipley did. She stalked forward and opened her reticule and began laying items on the little table: a handkerchief, a bottle of scent, a second handkerchief, hartshorn and sal volatile, a coin purse. “There! You see? No earrings.”
“Tip it up,” Letty suggested. “They may have fallen to the bottom.”
Lady Shipley glared at her.
“Yes, tip it up,” the landlord said. “Or the constable can.”
Lady Shipley pressed her lips together, and tipped the reticule upside down. A tiny object wrapped in black ribbon and fastened with a pin fell out.
They all looked at it. Lady Shipley was breathing heavily through her nose.
“Would you like to open it, Lady Shipley?” the landlord said, his tone barely cordial. “Or shall I?”
Lady Shipley fumbled with the pin and unwrapped the black ribbon. Inside lay two diamond earrings.
The waiter came up the stairs. He peered over his employer’s shoulder.
“Fetch the constable, Walter,” the landlord said.
“No!” cried Lady Shipley. “It was a mistake! I forgot!”
Clang. Clang.
The landlord glanced at his wife, who stood with tightly folded lips holding the vase.
“I would suggest that you do send for the constable,” Letty said quietly. “This woman isn’t who she claims to be. Her name is not Lady Shipley.”
Lady Shipley drew a deep breath. “How dare you!” she said in a throbbing voice.
The woman certainly looked the part of a dowager noblewoman—the black bombazine, the imperious nose, the haughty manner—but Letty rather thought she was an adventuress. “Have you done this before? To avoid paying your bill?”
“How dare you insinuate such a thing!”
“Have you?”
Lady Shipley drew herself up even higher. “Of course not!”
Clang.
Letty met the landlord’s eyes. “Send for the constable. Tell him that this woman’s name isn’t Lady Shipley and that she’s played this trick before.” Her gaze shifted to the tear-stained chambermaid, half-hidden behind the landlady. “Some other poor girl may have been accused of theft.”
The landlord nodded. “Walter,” he said, not looking at the waiter. “Fetch the constable.” He smiled tightly at the false Lady Shipley. “Madam, I suggest you wait here, in this parlor.” He took two steps sideways and opened a door. “My wife and I will wait with you.”
Lady Shipley fumbled her belongings back into the reticule. Her face was blotched with color, her hands trembling. Letty felt no pity for her.
The landlady placed the vase back on the little table. “Martha, go wash your face, dear,” she said in a low voice, and then she met Letty’s eyes and gave a nod. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Reid.”
“You’re welcome.”
The echo of the waiter’s rapid footsteps died away. Lady Shipley reluctantly entered the parlor. The landlady followed, looking martial. The chambermaid departed down the stairs, wiping her face.
The landlord paused in the parlor doorway, looking at Letty. “Madam? Will you wait for the constable with us?”
Letty suddenly remembered that her own identity in Exeter was as false as Lady Shipley’s. She shook her head and tried to sound regretful: “We’re leaving shortly. I’m certain you won’t need my testimony; you and your wife witnessed everything I did.”
The landlord nodded. “We’re very much obliged to you.” He stepped into the parlor and closed the door.
Letty stood for a moment in the empty corridor. She blew out a breath.
“That was masterful!”
Letty jumped, and jerked round.
Sir Barnaby’s wife stood in the half-open doorway of another private parlor, petite and pregnant, her bright blue eyes fixed intently on Letty’s face. “One might almost have thought it was magic, the way you could tell she was lying.”
“Oh, no! Not magic!” Letty said, hearing the clang in her own words. “Just a knack.”
Lady Ware shook her head. “I have a knack for seeing when people lie, but I couldn’t have done what you just did. To me, it looked like magic.”
“It wasn’t,” Letty said, and felt herself color. If Lady Ware truly did have a knack, she’d know that for a lie.
Lady Ware’s lips twitched in a smile. Her head cocked to one side. “I could almost believe you had a Faerie godmother,” she said, musingly. “You don’t, do you, by any chance?”