A short cough recovered her attention. Mr. Ripley stood nearby, a tall hat majestically crowning his head. His blank expression gave no hint of what he was thinking or what he planned to do with her secret.
“Good morning, sir.” Well, she must begin somehow.
He acknowledged her greeting with a nod but then turned to look out at the expansive park, leaning on his walking stick. “It would be best if we are not seen in conversation.” A significant pause. “Your Grace.”
She hadn’t been mistaken. With a concerted effort, Victoria settled into the bench and tried to project a relaxed demeanor. With tension gripping every muscle, the act was not easy.
“I apologize for any deception,” she began, looking in the opposite direction from Mr. Ripley. A child playing with a hoop held her focus. “I can only say that I found myself unexpectedly married. Had you any idea of my identity before the wedding?”
The attempt was clumsy, but she needed to find out if he knew she intended to wed Taviston. If so, he was a suspect in her kidnapping, though she still didn’t think it likely.
“I did not.” Victoria found it difficult to read the veracity of his statement since she couldn’t see his face. “I did, however, suspect from the beginning that your name was not Sarah Arthur.”
“No. Though I hope you can understand why I didn’t give you my true name.”
“Indeed, I can. I find it easy to see vulnerab
ility in others, given the ways of the world.”
Victoria swept a glance at his back. Though Mr. Ripley was tall and lithely muscular and of course a man, he was a black man. She was not naive enough to think he didn’t suffer a vulnerability of his own. But not for a minute did she think he would let that acknowledgement of her weakness interfere with his business.
“Nonetheless, I am at your mercy,” she admitted.
He was silent for so long, she thought he might not have heard her soft words. At last, he glanced over his shoulder and she saw his eyes narrow. He pursed his lips and turned back to the vista before him.
“Let us strike another bargain. You continue to provide me with Society sketches, and I continue to remain silent.”
Her chest clenched at the understated threat. But truly, did he not want money? She could hardly fathom he only wanted more sketches in return.
He tipped his head back and let the sunshine fully on his face. “While I assume the payments are a mere nothing to you now, I am more than willing to continue them. I am a businessman, above all else, and I pay for goods delivered.”
He wanted to pay her? Victoria was more confused than ever. Like Timothy, however, she wasn’t a fool. At least outside of her love life. She would do whatever necessary to keep Mr. Ripley quiet. “I accept your terms with one caveat. I would like my payments directed as donations to the Foundling Hospital. You may make the donations in your name or someone else’s, I care not. Believe that I will check, though.”
That probably hadn’t sounded as tough as she’d meant it, but it couldn’t be helped. She was only a petite woman.
“Very good. Have you anything for me today?” Ripley’s tone had returned to one of crisp business.
“My apologies, but I do not. I was rather...occupied these few days.”
Ripley chuckled so softly Victoria didn’t hear him, but she saw his shoulders shake. Blast it, that wasn’t what she meant.
After pressing a hand to his mouth to settle himself, Ripley said, “I must admit I admire your ingenuity in providing that sketch of the two of you. You had me fooled until I happened to be passing through Hanover Square on Saturday. My compliments, on the wedding and your ability to put out the story you wanted to be heard.”
“Th-hank you.” She had not expected praise from Mr. Anthony Ripley today. She had not expected to still be drawing sketches for him. She had expected blackmail, but she was not addle-brained enough to ask him why he wasn’t pressing his advantage. Time to think about his motives later. “I’m afraid I must be off. In future, I may send my footman in my place. He stands beside the tree behind me, if you would like to note his appearance.”
“As you wish. Good morning.” He tipped his hat, just barely, then added softly, “Your Grace.”
Victoria watched him walk jauntily away then stayed a few minutes longer, watching the children play, until she deemed it safe to leave. Timothy hung back, making to let her lead the way, but she stopped and turned to him. “Timothy, if you knew a secret about someone that could ruin them, would you use it to your advantage?”
“Your Grace?” The footman looked confused. “I would never take advantage, ma’am, I swear.”
His sincerity loosened some of the tension in her shoulders. “Of course you wouldn’t. But why wouldn’t someone else use it to their advantage?”
“Do you mean blackmail?” Timothy asked tentatively.
“I do, yes.” She was asking his opinion, she might as well be honest.
“Is that man blackmailing you, Your Grace?”