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Colin had followed Battersea from the earl’s club—where he’d waited outside as he wasn’t a member—to a rout—where he’d pretended to be a servant to move about the festivities. He’d seen Daphne’s friends, Lady Isabella and Lady Pavenley, but they were without their third tonight.
For once Daphne had done as he’d asked.
Battersea must have also gone in the hopes of seeing Lady Daphne. He made a circuit of the room, stayed as long as etiquette demanded, and then departed.
Colin followed Battersea to a raucous street just outside Mayfair where a bawdy house catering to wealthy men was situated. The bawd seemed to be having her own rout that evening as noise filtered out and culls streamed in. Colin tucked himself just around the corner, keeping out of sight of the bullies at the door but close enough so that the entrance to the house was in view.
“Not going inside?” a voice said from behind him. Colin tensed and put his hand over the dagger he carried hidden under his coat. He turned slowly, then loosed his grip when he saw Jasper behind him. Jasper wore all black and, with his half-mask in place, he blended in with the shadows.
“You’re following Battersea too?” Colin asked.
“I heard he frequents this house. Thought I would see for myself. Interesting attire.” He glanced down at the livery Colin wore.
“I was at a rout earlier. I’d have to change to go into the bawdy house, and I’m not sure it’s worth the trouble. I wouldn’t be able to move about freely, not with the ladies doing their best to empty my pockets.”
“The whores in the rookeries know about Battersea. He will round up a half dozen when he has a house party in the country. Apparently, they don’t always come back.”
“I heard something to that effect.” Colin studied the door of the bawdy house again, knowing it was too early for Battersea to emerge but diligent in his observation nonetheless.
“We’ll have to do more than follow him from whore to whore in order to find out anything compromising.”
Colin looked back at Jasper. “What are you suggesting?”
“We worked together a few times on the Continent before...” He trailed off, and Colin knew he was thinking about the fire that had scarred him.
“We did,” he agreed. “As I recall, we were generally successful.”
“Why don’t we visit Battersea’s shipping offices? See what we can find,” Jasper suggested.
“You confirmed he has investments in shipping.”
“I did, but I’m still poking around. I’d know more, but...” He spread his hands and a card seemed to appear from nowhere between two black-gloved fingers.
“Card swindlers,” Colin supplied.
“Exactly. It’s too late tonight. By the time we reached the docks and started looking, it would be too close to dawn, and we’d risk being seen. I know you blend in, but in the daylight, I’m better off staying out of sight.” Jasper gestured to his mask.
“Tomorrow night then?” Colin asked.
“Meet me here at ten.”
Colin nodded, looked back at the bawdy house, then back at Jasper. “What about your wife?”
Jasper seemed to start in surprise. “What about her? Planned that dinner party already?”
“I’m told our dining room might not suit for a large dinner party.”
“We’ll have it at Mayne’s house then. He has enough room to feed an army.”
“Good luck persuading him to return to London.” Colin paused then decided to ask the question in the back of his mind. “About your wife. She doesn’t mind you roaming London every night?”
“I don’t roam every night, but she understands the nature of my work. And I’m usually home to wake her up.” His mouth curved into a smile, indicating he rather enjoyed his method of waking his wife from sleep. “But you’re not really interested in my wife. You’re thinking about how to manage yours.”
Colin raised his brows. “I doubt she’d like having it put that way.”
“Then don’t put it that way. And you’re better off not asking for my advice. I don’t know what the devil I’m doing most days, and Olivia is practical and prefers a quiet life. Your wife—” He shook his head.
“What does that mean?”
Jasper laughed. “And here I thought you didn’t like her. I only meant that she seems to enjoy balls and the theater.” He paused. “And musicales, fetes, routs, dinner parties, tea parties, garden parties—”
“I take your point, Grantham.”
“And all the pink and the bows and the frothy lacy stuff she wears. She’s not one to stand in a corner and blend in.”
Colin understood exactly what Jasper was saying, and he already knew he and Daphne were opposites. But there was more to her than her popularity in social circles. And he was more than a man who pretended to be someone else on demand. He just wasn’t certain she would like who he was under the disguise.
“Do you plan to stay here until he emerges?”
“Yes.” Colin studied the bullies at the door again. “I want to make sure he stays away from Daphne. She’s at home tonight with some illness or other.”
“I assume it’s fabricated.”
“She will be ill again tomorrow evening, so I will see you at ten.”
“Dress as a sailor,” Jasper said a moment later. Colin had actually thought he’d gone.
“A sailor? What will you dress as?”
“Myself. But if we need a distraction, I’ll look to you. You can play the role of sailor?”
Colin scowled at him as though the question was an insult. Jasper laughed, probably only asking it to elicit Colin’s annoyance. As Colin watched, Jasper melted away into the darkness and was gone.
He went back to watching the whore house and tried not to think about where he would be and with whom a few nights hence.
***
DAPHNE HELD A HANDKERCHIEF to her nose and pretended to sniffle as Lady Isabella and Lady Pavenley delicately sipped their tea in the sitting room of her bed chamber. They’d come to call on her and offer their wishes for a quick recovery. At least, that was what they’d said. Daphne thought it was more likely they hoped to see her red-nosed and feverish and looking her worst.
They seemed disappointed.
She had actually enjoyed staying in last night. She’d felt some guilt at lying to her mother, who had also stayed in to watch over Daphne. But it had been surprisingly pleasant to spend a quiet evening reading and sipping tea with her mother. And when her father had come home from the Lords, they’d all played cards games she remembered from when she’d been a child.
Her mother had worried she would tire herself and sent Daphne to bed early. Daphne didn’t mind at all. It had been ages since she had gone to bed before three in the morning, and when she’d woken this morning, she’d felt refreshed and in perfect spirits.
That was until the other Suns called on her. While Daphne could tell other callers she was not at home, she could hardly refuse her best friends. If she had, who knew what rumors they would circulate? The papers would claim she was on her death bed.
“I do wish you could have been there,” Lady Pavenley said. She was going on about Lord and Lady Richelieu’s rout. Daphne had been looking forward to the event, but she found she hadn’t missed it at all. “Everyone asked about you.”
“Quite tedious,” Lady Isabella said, nibbling on a biscuit. “We told everyone you would be at Lord Forsythe’s ball tonight.”
Daphne did enjoy dancing, but she had promised to stay home until tomorrow. “I don’t think so,” Daphne said, dabbing her nose again. “I’m still not feeling well, and I have to supervise the packing.”
“Oh, yes!” Lady Pavenley set her teacup down with a clink. “You and Mr. FitzRoy have finally secured your own residence. Where is he, by the way?”
Daphne had no idea, but she was not about to admit that or explain that Colin hadn’t been in her father’s house above a handful of times. “At his club, I suppose.” She waved a hand.
“But you cannot miss the ball,” Lady Isabella said, her brown eyes wide. “It’s the event of the Season.”
“Oh, bosh. It’s far too early in the Season for such hyperbole. And anyway, I will only sneeze on all my dance partners. I will simply have to stay home one more evening. Perhaps I will feel up to the theater later this week.”
“Lord Battersea was looking for you last night,” Lady Pavenley said, lifting her teacup again and peering over the rim at Daphne.
Of course, he was. He was undoubtedly looking for an opportunity to get a taste of what he thought she owed him. Or perhaps he planned to snatch her away from the ball so she was never seen again.
Panic swelled within her, but she couldn’t allow her guests to see it. She took a breath.
“Was he?” Daphne made her voice as flat as possible. She did not know how the other Suns knew something had occurred between Daphne and Battersea, but they did. They wouldn’t be prodding her so if they did not. They just didn’t know what. And they would never know. She had to remember Colin had said he would help her. Once she and Colin put their plan in motion, this ordeal would be at an end. Perhaps her husband already had incriminating evidence against the earl.
“We told him you were home, and he said he would call on you when you were better.”
“My father would not admit him. He dislikes Battersea.”
“The earl is always so interested in you, Lady Daphne,” Lady Pavenley said. Then she lifted her reticule and opened it, removing a small envelope from inside. There was a red seal on it.
Daphne narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”
“Lord Battersea asked me to give it to you.” Lady Pavenley held it out to Daphne. Daphne stared at the envelope as though it were a viper. She did not want it and certainly did not want to know what Battersea had written to her. Finally, Lady Pavenley waved the envelope impatiently, and Daphne was forced to take it. She looked at the seal, which appeared unbroken, but that did not mean Lady Pavenley hadn’t gone to some trouble to remove it so she could read the contents and then reseal it. Perhaps Battersea had anticipated this since the seal was rather wide and thin. Daphne did not think it had been tampered with.
“Why don’t you open it?” Lady Pavenley asked.
Daphne glanced at her. Her violet eyes were fixed on the envelope. She looked like a kitten eyeing a bowl of cream.
“Later,” Daphne said, slipping it into her bosom, where it burned like a hot coal.
Lady Isabella and Lady Pavenley exchanged looks. They had obviously discussed what the contents of the note might be and hoped to have their suppositions confirmed or denied this afternoon. But Daphne felt a real headache coming on and pretended to cough into her handkerchief. She coughed for about another ten minutes, each time one of her friends asked a question, and finally the ladies departed. As soon as she was certain they were gone, Daphne jumped up, raced to her bed, closed the curtains about it, and opened the missive.
My Dear Daphne,
Daphne recoiled. She had not given him permission to use her given name.
I was so distraught to hear of your illness. I do hope you will be well enough to attend a small gathering at my country house.
Daphne wondered if this was the sort of note the baroness had received before he’d killed her.
As we have yet to settle our debt, perhaps we can do so at the event. I will collect you very soon.
Daphne read that line again. Very soon. What did that mean?
Yours affectionately,
B
Daphne read the letter again then stuffed it under a pillow and leapt out of her bed. “Mama!” she called. “Mama!”
“What is it?” her mother asked, coming up the stairs. “Are you feeling worse?”
“What?” She’d forgotten she was supposed to be ill. “Oh, yes. I feel awful. You will stay home with me again tonight, won’t you?”
“Brown!” When the maid didn’t appear, the duchess tugged at the bell pull. “I will have Brown put you right to bed. You shouldn’t be up. Your color is quite high. Your friends have worn you out.”
“I’ll go to bed.” Daphne pushed back the draperies and climbed in. “But you’ll stay home with me again, as you did last night?”
“I can’t, darling. You know Lady Forsythe is the Chairwoman of the Hyde Park Annual Flowershow and Botanical Festival. If I don’t attend, she’ll assign me to the flowering shrubs this year, and you know I want to present the roses.”
Daphne stared at her mother. How could she say she feared for her life? If she did, she’d have to reveal the whole affair with Battersea.
“Brown will stay with you, darling. And I won’t be long at the ball.” She tucked the covers around Daphne, then surprised her daughter by leaning down to kiss her forehead. “After tonight you will have to ask your husband to stay with you.” She gave Daphne a fond look. “My last little chick leaving the nest.”
Daphne gave her a weak smile then lay still and listened in the enclosed bed as her mother gave Brown instructions. As Daphne saw it, she had two choices. She could stay home and hope Battersea did not come for her. Or she could go after him herself. Her friends’ visit had already shown her that Battersea was looking for her. If he followed the same system as he had the night before, then he would stop in at the Forsythe ball. When he saw she was not there but her parents were, he would come looking for her here. Her father had a large, competent staff, but they would not be expected to guard the perimeter of the house in case an earl decided to abduct Daphne. Many would have the evening off, and the others would be belowstairs until the duke and duchess were expected to return. Only Brown would be with Daphne, and she would be little use against Battersea.
Daphne sat and peered through the bed curtains into her bed chamber. It was empty, the window curtains drawn and the lamp turned low. She climbed quietly out of bed, tiptoed to her desk, and eased the drawer open. She withdrew a sheet of vellum and scratched off a note to Colin. He had told her to remain home, but that had been before she’d received the note from Battersea. Besides, she had created this problem. She could very well help solve it.
She added one more line to her note, enclosed Battersea’s with it, sealed it, and tugged the bell pull. Brown appeared in less than a minute. “I thought you were sleeping, my lady.
“I’m feeling better.”
“But it’s only been a few minutes.”
“Brown, take this letter and have a footman deliver it to Mr. FitzRoy.”
Her maid looked at the letter. “Where shall I say to find him?”
“Have the footman begin at the viscount’s residence. If my husband isn’t there, they will know where to find him.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Daphne climbed back into bed, knowing she would have to pretend to rest for a few hours and feeling the task would be impossible.
“My lady, should the servant wait for a reply?”
Daphne considered. If she waited for a reply then it would appear the matter was up for debate. “No reply necessary,” she said, lying back and closing her eyes.
She did fall into a light sleep, which she thought might serve her well if she were to be up and out most of the night. When she woke, she called for Brown who told her the footman had discovered FitzRoy was at his club, the Draven Club, and had left the letter with the Master of the House.
Now Daphne did wish she had asked for a reply as she didn’t know if Colin had actually received the letter and she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her plan. She supposed she would know in a few hours. A little while later her mother came in to check on her. She was dressed in red and smelled of lilacs. She glittered in rubies and diamonds and was warm when she kissed Daphne’s cheek. “I’m having dinner with friends before the ball. I will check on you when I return.”
Daphne pretended to flutter her eyes sleepily and then closed them and feigned falling back asleep. A quarter hour later the house was quiet and the last echoes of the carriage’s wheels clattering on the street had died away. The hay used to muffle the noise of passing carriages needed to be replaced, but for the moment Daphne was glad for the noise.
“Brown,” she called as she rose from bed and went to her clothes press. “I need something dark to wear.”
Brown came in from the sitting room, her arms full of ribbons. She was obviously packing for the move tomorrow. “Something dark to sleep in, my lady?”
“I’m not sleeping, Brown. You and I are going out.”
“But, my lady! You are ill.”
“I’m perfectly fine, but I don’t want to go alone.”
“I wouldn’t allow it, my lady.”
“Then find me something dark. I don’t want to be seen.”
Brown set the ribbons on Daphne’s dressing table. “There’s the cloak you wore the other evening.”
Daphne shook her head. “I returned it to my sister. A gown will have to do.”
The maid opened the clothes press and stared at the profusion of pink. “I don’t think you have anything in dark colors, my lady.”
“Nonsense!” Daphne went through her gowns herself. Brown was right. She sighed then whirled on the maid. “I know! What about the gowns I wore when Great-Aunt Clotilda died? I had to wear black for a year, it seemed.”
Brown frowned. “It was no more than a month, my lady, and that was several years ago.”
“Where are they?”
“Perhaps packed in a trunk in one of the storage rooms.”
Daphne shooed at her. “Go find them. I’ll put my hair up while you do.”
“You will put your hair up, my lady?”
Daphne put her hands on her hips. “I can dress my own hair, Brown.”
Brown looked dubious as she left to look for the mourning gowns. In the meantime, Daphne managed to fasten her hair in a tail down her back. She intended to stuff it into one of her father’s hunting caps at any rate. It didn’t have to look fancy.
She paced the room, checking the clock on the mantel impatiently. Parliament would adjourn soon, and then she did not know how much time she had until Battersea came looking for her. She wanted to be well away before then.
Finally, Brown returned, carrying a dove gray cloak and a black silk dress with jet beading on the bodice. Daphne remembered wearing it to the theater and hating it as her mother hadn’t allowed her to order Madame Renauld to add any bows to it. Hopefully the beading would not catch too much light. As it had been an evening dress, the bodice was low enough to show off any black enamel jewelry. Daphne didn’t bother with adornments. She donned the dress and threw the cloak over the dress and her hair. Then she gave Brown a once-over. The maid was already dressed in dark blue. Daphne told her to leave her apron on the bed and put on a shawl. On the way out the door, Daphne took one of her father’s hunting caps.
It was a short walk to Oxford Square, where her new home stood. Brown stayed close to her, and Daphne was glad as any little sound and every man they passed made her heart pound in fear. Finally, they arrived at the town house.
“My lady, it’s dark,” Brown said.
Daphne had seen that as well. She’d expected Colin to be there already and to have lit at least a candle for her. “Perhaps he hasn’t arrived yet. It’s not a problem. Mama gave me a key.”
She pulled it from her reticule, which she had kept tucked under the cloak as it was pink, and as Brown held the lantern for her, she inserted it into the lock and heard the click as she opened the door.
“I’ll go first, my lady,” Brown said. Daphne thought she should argue or at least pretend to be brave, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth object when Brown pushed the door open and entered. Daphne followed Brown into the shadowy vestibule. There was no sound other than the swish of the ladies’ skirts. Daphne turned in a circle, then screamed as a man stepped out of the shadows.
Brown turned and shrieked as well even as the masked man held up two hands in a universal gesture promising no harm.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Daphne demanded, pushing Brown behind her. “Are you a highwayman? We don’t have any valuables.”
“I’m not a highwayman,” the man said. It almost sounded as though he were laughing. Footsteps sounded on the marble and then Colin ran into the foyer, holding an unlit lamp and a jug.
“What the devil?”
“It’s a highwayman, Colin,” Daphne explained. “I told him we don’t have any blunt. Just give him what you have, and he won’t hurt anyone.” She looked at the highwayman. “Isn’t that right?”
“That is right. Give me your blunt, Colin.”
“Stubble it, Jasper.”
Daphne looked from one man to the other. “You know the highwayman?”
Colin set the lamp on the entryway table and produced a tinder box. “He’s not a highwayman. We’re not even on the highway.”
“If he’s not a highwayman, why does he wear a mask?”
“I was injured in the war, my lady. I wear it so you won’t scream, though it didn’t seem to help much this evening.”
The lamp flared to life, and Colin held it up, illuminating the room. “Lady Daphne, may I present Lord Jasper. Lord Jasper, my wife.”