A few nights later, Edwina noticed the interested stares, the hard looks and the couched whispers as they passed, but Prescott’s ripping chatter and the way he capably maneuvered them through the crowded ballroom kept her safe from any controversy.
“Heavens, it’s warm in here,” Edwina commented. “How High Society loves a good crush. For the life of me, I can’t understand why.”
“It’s the stimulation, my lady. The excitement that can only be generated by a mob.”
Or a well-muscled thigh brushing mine. So long as it’s scented with a little musk.
To Edwina’s ultimate disappointment, tonight Prescott was behaving the perfect gentleman. There hadn’t been a hint of the possibility of a kiss the whole carriage ride from her house, but given that Janelle had ridden with them, Edwina supposed that was to be expected.
Edwina was obsessed by the kiss in the alcove, playing it over and over in her mind. The heat of his body, the press of his hands, the silky touch of his tongue dancing with hers, the fiery sensations surging through her when he’d rubbed her breast…
The memory alone made her body burn with need. She felt parched for another taste of his elixir, her every moment haunted by the specter of the possibility of another kiss.
Not that they’d had much of a chance for one. Prescott had spent the last couple of days at Andersen Hall with Dr. Winner and Evie, since the little girl had fallen ill with a fever. It was endearing how Prescott had only left Evie once he’d seen that she’d recovered. He’d reported as much to Edwina this afternoon, when she’d finally gotten to see him again. But their reunion was abruptly cut short when Janelle and Lucy had charged in, insisting that Prescott join them in the society to see their latest charitable project.
Thereafter, the ladies of the society had hogged his attentions all afternoon. Not even Edwina’s pretense about needing some air had peeled him from their grasp. Ginny, Lucy and Janelle decided that a group walk in the park was in order. Part of Edwina was delighted that her friends welcomed him so, the other part was wondering what might just happen if she stole a moment alone with her supposed fiancé.
And now they were surrounded by hundreds of interested eyes.
No, she sighed, a kiss is not bloody likely. Inwardly she chastised herself for her foul tongue. Or was it her foul thoughts that should garner the indictment? Somehow, what she’d done with Prescott hadn’t felt indecent; it had felt quite…heavenly.
“Don’t worry.” Prescott leaned over, his breath teasing the fine hairs on her neck, making her shiver. “The night is young yet and we’re bound to spot those shoes, if the wearer is here. I’m thinking that we might have better luck if we check the card room.”
“Ah, yes,” Edwina replied, feeling silly that she was ruminating on a kiss when they had an evil blackmailer to find. “While the gentlemen are sitting. Sounds like a good idea.”
“Move to the left, Edwina, I want to avoid Mrs. Warren.”
As he negotiated her through the throng, Edwina wondered aloud, “I can’t imagine she doesn’t know how rude she is with her thousand questions.”
Prescott lifted a burly shoulder. “She’s simply trying to sort out what a lovely lady like you is doing with a wolfish muckworm like me.”
The flattery about her revamped appearance pleased her but…“Don’t speak in such denigrating terms, Prescott. Even if it’s to represent someone else’s view.”
His eyes scanned the crowd. “If the reputation fits…”
“About as well as Lady Cartridge’s skintight gown,” she muttered.
He looked down at her, his brow furrowed and the corner of his lush lip lifted as if surprised. “Did you just make a jest, my lady?”
Her lips quirked. “Astonishing isn’t it?”
A deep chuckle escaped from his mouth, a sound so joyous, Edwina suddenly laughed in response, feeling at once witty, charming and almost pretty.
“Heads are turning,” he murmured, as the crowd pushed them about like seashells pitched by the current. “Everyone wants to be included in the jest.”
It felt good to laugh; her anxiety seemed to dissolve in the sheer fun of being with Prescott. When she was with him she didn’t fret about her father or Ginny’s fate or feel like she was fighting a mighty current in pursuit of her future happiness. She simply enjoyed the moment, a very special gift.
As a dour-faced lady with almost as many diamonds around her neck as freckles on her face craned her red head to overhear, Edwina leaned toward Prescott. “You have a gift for making people feel comfortable, Prescott.”
He shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
Reminded of Tomlin’s praise a few nights before, Edwina wondered at how Prescott seemed to dismiss appreciation as nothing noteworthy. Or was it that he didn’t deem himself noteworthy?
“I’m not talking about your ability to charm the scales off a dragon,” she countered. “It’s…I don’t know, an ability to make someone feel…accepted. You don’t judge people overmuch, do you?”
“Only myself,” he replied. “And often the assessment is wanting. Here, there’s an opening, let us go through.”
Purposefully guiding her away from the dour-faced lady, Prescott led her toward the supper room and the crowd thickened around them. The scents of lily, rose, carnation, lavender and French violet blended together in a stifling concoction that smelled nothing like fresh flowers.
Edwina suddenly realized that Prescott seemed to maneuver her away from the ladies whenever possible. “Why do you move me closer to the gentlemen? Is it because they are less inquiring?”
“Some of the ladies use pins to secure parts of their ensemble.” Pressed together in the crowd, he smiled down at her. “In a crush like this, they don’t tickle.”
“Oh.” Edwina blinked, marveling at Prescott’s ability to be empathetic. She was reminded of a tale her banker had once told her. Leaning up, she asked in his ear, “Have you ever heard the story about the Hebrew scholar, Hillel?”
He shook his head.
“A group of pagans told him that they would convert if he could recite the entirety of his religion’s teachings while standing on one foot.”
A glimmer of interest flickered in his emerald eyes and she felt encouraged to go on. “He stood on one foot and said, ‘Do unto others as you would have done to you. The rest is commentary.’”
His handsome face lighted with a wide smile and she was so gratified to have been able to amuse him she felt an answering grin lifting her own lips.
“You do that,” she murmured. “It’s very…gentlemanly.”
His smile remained fixed but she could see the light in his eyes dim. And even though they were wedged closer than cabbage leaves, she felt his withdrawal like a raw wind on a wintry day.
“Did I…did I say something wrong?”
“Of course not.” He looked away, his eyes scanning the crowd. “I think we’re almost through.”
“Prescott?”
“What?”
“Please look at me.”
Exhaling noisily as if pained, his gaze met hers. “Yes?”
“I apologize if I offended you in any way. Obviously it was unintentional.”
“You didn’t offend me.” His tone was curt.
“Then why do I still feel the draft on my face where you slammed the proverbial door?”
He stared at her a long moment, his brow furrowed as if she were some sort of enigma. Then his gaze softened. “I’m not offended, my lady, I assure you. It was something that…well, a gentleman is the one distinction that I will never call my own. So…” Those broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I suppose the arrow hit a bit too close for comfort.”
Raising her hand in pledge, she declared, “I swear on my honor never to insult you by calling you gentlemanly ever again.”
To her great relief, his face relaxed and he chuckled, the very response she’d been hoping for. He shook his head. “I must confess, my lady, you’re not exactly how I imagined you’d be.”
“How so?” She held her breath, hating that she cared so much what he thought of her.
“Well, for one thing, you’ve got a nice sense of humor. When I first met you…”
“I looked as if I should be carrying a broom, ready to give a sound thrashing?”
He smiled. “Something like that. You seemed so, well…reserved.”
“I was. I mean I am.” Her cheeks heated. “What I mean to say is that when I’m with you I don’t feel that way.”
“I think it was just your hairstyle. Wearing your hair that tightly had to hurt; no wonder you were a bit of a crosspatch.”
She felt her lips quirk. “Curls do wonders for a girl’s disposition.”
His handsome face transformed into a wide, white smile that she felt all the way down to her toes.
She pursed her lips. “But I will not allow you to distract me from my purpose, Prescott, no matter how you try. I will spit out this compliment, even if it kills me.”
He playfully rolled his eyes. “If you must…”
“Oh, I must. Though I dare not say you are gentlemanly, I will declare that the ease which others feel in your presence is generated from your chivalrous deportment.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “Oh how you flatter me, my lady.”
“If the reputation fits…”
His smile was warm, blanketing her like sunshine on a cloudless day. “You know, Edwina, you have a tendency to know exactly the right thing to say—”
“After the very wrong thing that I say,” she interrupted.
“Everyone puts his foot in his mouth at some point or other. You simply have a knack for removing it with aplomb.”
“Thank you, Prescott, I do try. I simply attempt to be honest and say what I know would make me feel better if the positions were reversed.”
“So you try to be ‘gentlemanly,’ do you?”
“Be careful with those insults, or I might just have to call you out.”
His easy smile met hers and the warmth in his gaze made her feel as if she’d peeked behind the mask shielding his heart. A small swell of victory blossomed in her chest and she hugged the feeling close, knowing that he only let in very few, and rarely at that. She understood that it was a special moment that she would revisit again once all this was over.
“Lady Ross.” A stout man dressed in a peacock blue coat stood before them barring their way. His white breeches that were of a style better suited to a much slimmer gentleman, and the sour look on his face flattered no one at all. “Mr. Devane.”
Chatter around them screeched to a halt and all eyes turned to stare at the imposing Frederick Millsboro, Baron Oxley, and his latest quarry. The man was known as being one of the nosiest rumormongers in the ton, only to be rivaled by his older sister the Viscountess Langston. The brother and sister looked alike as well; both had spiky russet hair, matching bristly brows, brown, piercing eyes and long, horsey faces.
Craning his neck in what had to be an uncomfortably intricate cravat knot, Lord Oxley stomped his cane on the floor and glared at Edwina through his quizzing glass. “I’ve heard that congratulations are in order, my dear. But I must confess, I’m surprised by your choice of future husband. He’s not exactly cut of posh cloth.”
Any remaining conversation in the nearby crowd hushed, and a pocket of silence entombed them within the raucous throng.
“Nay, my lord,” Prescott replied. “My cloth is used to far more washings a year.”
A lady giggled behind him.
“That, Devane, is obvious,” Oxley huffed, not quite understanding the play on words. Darting his eyes about the crowd, he puffed out his chest. “And as such, I wonder at the wisdom of such a selection when there are far superior fabrics to choose from.” His smile was smug.
Prescott turned to Edwina. “The man’s right, you know. Orphans don’t exactly make the best husbands.”
“See.” Lord Oxley waved his cane. “Even the man knows the lay of the land.”
Perhaps it was the reassuring feel of Prescott’s strong arm beneath her hand or the security of knowing he was by her side to help her if she faltered. But with an amazing sense of confidence, Edwina went along with the play. “I am most concerned. Pray, explain to me the shortcomings of marrying an orphan, Mr. Devane. For it might cause me to reassess.”
Prescott scratched his chin. “Well, I don’t have any relations to come stay with us for months on end. The house will be quiet and all our own, I regret to say. Likewise, I’ve no aged aunts or uncles to support in their dotage.”
“So we would miss out on such engaging conversation? That is a shame.”
“And I’m without any nieces in need of a season or two, which is always so exciting.”
“I suppose we could always host a ball or two on our own.”
“Yes, but you won’t have all of those wardrobes to acquire and I know how ladies love those shopping expeditions.”
“Although husbands tend to shudder at the bills.” Popping open her fan, Edwina waved it distractedly. “Are you certain you don’t have a cousin or two hiding out in the wings who are desirous of purchasing a commission in the army? I do wish to support our efforts abroad.”
Shaking his head, Prescott sighed. “I can contribute none of the typical advantages of family to our union, I’m afraid to say.”
Lord Oxley blinked behind his quizzing glass as it suddenly registered that these might not be so undesirable at all.
“Hmmm.” Edwina tapped her fan to her lips. “That does raise an interesting question. So on holidays, there would be no conflict about whose family we would join?”
“I’m afraid not. Which means we will be even further entrenched into the bosom of your family.”
Brandishing her fan, Edwina turned to Lord Oxley. “As a father of four girls, is that a good or a bad state of affairs?”
The whispers began and Lord Oxley’s eyes nervously flitted about. No doubt Lady Oxley would be interested in his very public response. He licked his lips, groping for what words to use. “Uh, good. Of course.” Lord Oxley exposed pink gums with his wide false smile. “A daughter can’t be too close to home, I always say.”
Edwina looked up at Prescott. “Are there any other shortcomings I should know of?”
“Well, as we’d agreed, when I die everything goes either to our children or back to your kin.”
“But isn’t that a favorable outcome?”
“Yes. But there’s no one to challenge the will. Where’s the sport in that? Solicitors need to eat, too.”
Edwina patted his arm. “Always thinking of others. Well, I’m sure the solicitors will find something to dispute and charge us an exorbitant fee for, isn’t that right, Lord Oxley?”
“Um, ah, yes, those devils can always find something to argue about. Ah…” Lord Oxley cleared his throat. “By the by, you look lovely, my dear.”
Edwina patted a curl. “A new coiffure and a sensible engagement will do wonders, don’t you think?”
A sheen of sweat appeared on Lord Oxley’s upper lip and Edwina found herself feeling slightly sorry for him. But only slightly, the man was an atrocious busybody. “Sensible…I…ah…must be off, my dear. I well, I give you my congratulations.”
The flustered Lord Oxley swept through the crowd.
Edwina let out a thankful breath and smoothed her gown, feeling elated by the jest, but sad all the same for having to go through it. She couldn’t quite understand how Prescott always managed to keep that mask so firmly in place. It had to be a very isolating experience.
“Psst. Ladies’ retiring room,” a voice muttered. Edwina looked up in time to catch a glimpse of Janelle’s retreating back and the violet feather of her turban flopping through the crowd.
Edwina’s stomach dropped, knowing this had to be about the blackmailer. “Ah, if you’ll excuse me, Prescott?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes of course.”
She made her way to the retiring room, her nerves on edge.
“Psst!”
Edwina jumped.
Janelle stepped out from behind a fern.
Pressing her hand to her racing heart, Edwina chided, “Why must you be so wretchedly…dramatic?” She restrained herself from using one of the other choice words that had come to mind. “Prescott is no fool! He had to have seen you, and you’re acting more shiftily than a spying Polonius jumping behind a curtain!”
“Oh, piffle! And although I adore Shakespeare’s Hamlet, don’t you dare compare me to an actor.”
Waving an ivory-gloved hand, Janelle motioned for Edwina to move with her behind the fern.
Edwina couldn’t quite believe she was hiding behind a tree, but did as Janelle wanted, whispering, “Where’s Ginny?”
“Are you drunk? I told you, in the retiring room.”
“And?”
Janelle frowned. “And she’s mightily upset. She received a note. She has no idea how it managed to get into her reticule, but when she went into the retiring room, there it was.”
Gritting her teeth, Edwina once more sent off a prayer for forbearance. “And what did it say?”
“She’s to be at the Kendrick house party in five days time and be prepared to get all of her letters back.”
Edwina’s eyes widened. “All of them?”
“Yes, for a payment in the amount of five hundred pounds.”
Edwina hissed.
Heads swiveled her way and eyes glistened with a speculative gleam.
Pressing her hand to her mouth, Edwina whispered, “The knave!”
“Ginny’s very upset.”
“I’d be, as well!” She bit her lip. “But this is actually good news. At the Kendrick estate, Prescott and I can search the guests’ rooms, looking for those Françoise Millicent shoes or the letters.” Being in love and stealing off to bed early was the perfect excuse. Fleetingly, Edwina pondered how nice it might be for that to be true.
“You need an invitation first—”
“Isn’t your nephew Albert married to Lord Kendrick’s niece?”
Rolling her eyes, Janelle scowled. “Yes, fine, twist my arm, I’ll try to secure it. But I make no promises…”
“Thank you.” Edwina frowned. “But how does the blackmailer know that Ginny will be invited to the house party?”
Janelle shrugged. “How did he manage to get the note into Ginny’s purse?”
“Probably in the crush of the crowd.” She shuddered, looking through the fern leaves. “The man’s a bit too crafty for comfort. Which begs the question—why is he returning all of the letters? Why the sudden change in tactics? Does he somehow suspect that we’re hunting him?”
Janelle waved a hand. “He knows nothing because nothing’s happened. I’ll bet he’s greedy and simply wants the entire blunt in one lot.”
Edwina bit her lip, knowing she wasn’t grasping all of the nuances. “I’ll discuss it with Prescott. I’ll bet he has some ideas.” It was surprising how much that thought soothed Edwina. “But first, we must see to Ginny.”
“You go on.” Janelle adjusted the violet sleeves of her gown. “I fear you’re right about raising Mr. Devane’s suspicions. I’ll see to him now, so when you present the note as your own he won’t deduce a conspiracy.”
“I don’t know, Janelle, the man’s astoundingly astute…”
Janelle glowered. “Don’t start in again about telling him the truth, Edwina.”
“Prescott ought to know. I mean, he’s in as deep as we are.”
“We promised Ginny, remember?”
“But—”
“Enough, Edwina. Ginny likes him and would be upset if he learned the truth. Don’t you think she has enough distressing her?”
Edwina’s arguments died instantly.
Scratching her chin, Janelle pursed her lips. “But I must agree with you on one point, Mr. Devane is turning out to be a surprising young man.”
Sighing, Edwina stepped out from behind the fern, muttering, “More than you could ever know.”