Charity shook her head. “I mentioned him before. He’s a regular, and I truly believe he’s going to speak with Madame to release me.”
“And make you his mistress in your own establishment?”
“Well, he’s hardly going to offer to marry me!” Charity laughed before her expression grew serious, and she returned to the matter which had brought Faith to London.
“Lord Harkom’s speech alarmed me greatly. He mentioned enough specifics to make me believe he truly had something to use against Mr Westaway, and yet I have not the slightest idea what it could be. Only that all Lord Harkom’s correspondence is contained in a small leather chest which he keeps under his bed.” Charity touched Faith’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, but I knew you’d want to know.”
Faith stared at Charity’s gown, and asked, “May I borrow a dress, one of your finest, for just one night?”
“And a governess doesn’t have such confections in her wardrobe?” Charity’s smile was rueful. “If I had the learning, I once thought I’d prefer to be a governess, though whether that would satisfy me now, I don’t know.” She smiled again, clearly thinking of Lord Stanford. “Of course, I’m happy to offer you my finest gown for the night, but I would urge you to reconsider seeing Lord Harkom in person. He was very angry with you, and vengeance is his natural response. I only told you because I couldn’t hold onto the information. It sounded dangerous.”
“Lord Harkom will agree to see me, at least.” Faith raised her eyebrows. “If vengeance is his first inclination, I shall be ready to meet him on equal grounds.”
Crispin wasn’t expecting to be interrupted. During his two short weeks back in England, he had a great deal to do. Right now, he was preparing for a meeting with several ministers, so when he called “Come!” he was expecting the maid to announce Lord Grinwald with whom he would be conducting delicate negotiations.
Instead, he was surprised but pleased to find himself shortly afterwards greeting his old friend and neighbour Lord Delmore. It had been a long time. More than a year, in fact, and as their acquaintanceship had been limited to the time Crispin spent at his aunt and uncle’s home, and it was known that Lord Delmore’s fondness for London was minimal, the gentleman’s arrival was highly unusual.
“What brings you here? My short tenure here in London is not widely known.” He ushered Lord Delmore to a seat and called for tea, not liking to recall the last time they’d been in company together.
Should he bring it up? It would only revive a time long past when Crispin had shown himself the foolish stripling he’d once been.
“I’ve heard good reports of your progress through the ranks, and not just from your father.” Lord Delmore seated himself and glanced about the room: at the hunting scenes, the plaster busts, a suit of armour by the fireplace.
No flowers in vases. No lace doilies. No sign of any feminine touch.
He didn’t ask the question though. Merely waited until the maid had placed the tray upon the table, poured them both a cup of Darljeeling, and retired.
“I saw Miss Montague last week.”
Her name struck home like a well-placed blow to the solar plexus. Crispin hoped he didn’t betray himself. Not by the fiery reddening of his face, which he tried to obscure by taking a judicious sip of his drink, nor by the clearing of his throat, which must surely denote discomfort to a keen observer.
There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but he didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know if he should ask anything, in fact.
He settled with, “Indeed.”
“She looked very demure as one might expect. She’s a governess, you know.”
“Good lord!” This was unexpected.
“Yes, one would have imagined she’d have capitalised on her notoriety and made herself a fortune while she could. That was my initial thought, too.”
Crispin put his cup down carefully. It was still too full to risk holding it when his hands were shaking. Strange. He’d found himself quite self-contained during these past months. His father’s disgust, followed by the harsh tutoring he’d
received at the hands of his pater had, he thought, cauterised all feeling.
Except shame.
And it was curious how that could be wrapped up and put away when hard work was all consuming.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she plans to see Lord Harkom. I don’t know when, and that is why I’m here. I think you should stop her. Talk to her first, before she does something rash.”
If everything that had gone before had been surprising, this was the most surprising of all. Crispin was glad he’d not been taking another sip of tea for even without, he still choked on his shock.
“Lord Delmore, I can’t imagine why her…decisions and way of life should be your concern. They certainly are no longer mine.”
“I thought you felt a tendre for the young lady. I thought she’d engaged your heart to the extent you were prepared to go so far as marriage, even when you believed her penniless.”
Crispin shook his head and put up his hand, and Lord Delmore went on, “But it’s not because of your feelings that I sought you out to tell you this.” He sighed heavily. “Lord knows, I’m a man who likes the simple life. The skulduggery that’s your domain now that you’re in the thick of delicate continental diplomacy is not for me. I’d far rather be mouldering away in the country with a good book than breathing in London smog for a good cause.”