Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

“She’s gone to Lady Ridgeway’s masquerade,” Charity told him.

“I can’t believe I was too late!” He raked his hands through his hair. “Was she…all right after her encounter with Lord Harkom?” He could barely push out the question, though it seemed odd that Faith would make her way to further revelry if she were not.

“She didn’t say. She wanted to find Miss Eaves. She had an important letter to give her.”

He blinked. “Miss Eaves? She’s going to give the letter to Miss Eaves?”

Could she really have hated him so much?

All the hope and expectation he’d built up drained out of him.

Charity slipped to the floor and went to her dressing table where she began to pin up a curl. “Well, one of the letters. She wouldn’t tell me about the other one. But the letter she was going to give Miss Eaves was the important one, she said.”

“The one she found in Lord Harkom’s chest?”

Charity nodded, looking at him in the mirror. “Well, she found them both there. But this one is the one she hopes is going to put things right.”

“But…Miss Eaves destroyed Faith’s reputation. Faith’s not…planning revenge, is she?”

Charity turned as she let out a surprised laugh. “What a masculine thing to say. Revenge? Faith would never resort to revenge to harm anyone.” Her forehead wrinkled as she reassessed this statement, looking more closely at Crispin as she added, “I mean, she never intended wreaking revenge on you, Mr Westaway. That was Mrs Gedge’s idea, and you do know that Faith was entirely powerless in that woman’s hands. Just as I’m powerless in Madame Chambon’s. Do you think I like doing what I do to earn a living?” She shrugged. “I simply have no other choice open to me.”

This was not the time for Crispin to delve further into these murky depths. When he found Faith, he intended asking her a good many questions about her motivations, but there was too much at stake now for him to tarry.

“Yes, make your way to Lady Ridgeway’s, and I hope you find Faith. And that you’ll be good to her, for I fear what she’s found puts her in very grave danger.”

“You know?” Crispin moved forward and gripped Charity’s shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

Charity’s large blue eyes suddenly filled with tears which she brushed away, saying with a shaky laugh, “I try to pretend there’s nothing happening under this roof, and that we’re all safe as long as Madame sees us as bringing in the money, but the truth is, a girl is never safe here. One wrong action and Faith could be next.”

“Surely you can’t mean it.” He didn’t know what to say. “Are you suggesting there is something more sinister at play than Mrs Gedge’s plan for revenge against me?

Charity nodded. “It was in a letter Faith found. I think the letter was from Lady Vernon to Lord Harkom, but Faith wouldn’t tell me. She said it would put me in danger to know.”

“What do you think it’s about, Charity? I need something to go on.”

“I think it’s about a girl who disappeared from here a few months ago. A girl called Anastasia. Lord Harkom was very cruel to her. He hurt her. And then she disappeared.”

“And Lady Vernon’s involved?”

Charity nodded, her lower lip trembling. “Please don’t ask me anything more, Mr Westaway, because it would all be guesswork. But I think Lady Vernon and Lord Harkom are in some evil business together. And unless Faith is very careful, she could find herself in some extremely hot water.”

Faith’s attire was perfectly suited to the evening’s entertainment, while Charity’s demi-masque on a stick provided the necessary anonymity. Her identity would be discovered in due course, but initially, Faith might be able to mingle enough to search out Miss Eaves before she was asked to leave.

She found the young woman in the midst of a group of ladies all talking about hats.

Only Miss Eaves was not sufficiently interested, so her eyes were scouring the room in search of greater diversion when Faith dropped her demi-masque and caught her eye.

Miss Eaves’s mouth fell open, but a subtle crook of her finger had Faith following her into the shadows.

“Well, well, Miss Montague. I see you are back at your trade.” The young woman’s eyes raked Faith’s ensemble with obvious censure, for the figure-hugging ensemble, while fashionable, was risqué. “I just wonder how you have made your way inside without being recognised. You know you have no place here.”

Faith had no time to defend herself or try to alter Miss Eaves’s opinion. The young woman had clearly become a great deal more polished and sophisticated since the first time Faith had met her.

“Read this and tell me what you think.” Faith thrust Lady Vernon’s letter into Miss Eaves’s gloved hand and waited impatiently as the other slowly began to read—with obvious reluctance.

Finally, she handed it back. “White women snatched from a London brothel into slavery? Sold to a sultan in Constantinople? Really, Miss Montague? You expected everyone to believe you a fine lady when you were nothing but a yeoman’s daughter caught for stealing. A very clever one, obviously, to have entrapped Mr Westaway as you did. But this?” She tapped the letter with her forefinger before handing it back to Faith. “A forgery! You want me to print this as a front-page story so I can be sued for libel?”

“Only if it were proved untrue.”