Harriet nodded. "Thank you."
"You seem less than pleased."
"Merely trying to grow accustomed to it. To say the marriage was sudden would be an understatement. I'm certain you've heard, by now, of the circumstances."
Lady Somersby waved her hand. "What is done is done. You are safely married. Your reputation is no longer in question."
"Though I suspect many of the matrons have marked their calendars to see if I'll have a spring baby."
Lady Somersby's brows rose.
Harriet shook her head. "There will be no such child, unless, of course, it happens now." Goodness, how did she get herself into these conversations? "My apologies, my lady."
"Nonsense, Harriet. I was a young bride once." Lady Somersby picked a piece of lint off her skirts. "It takes some getting used to, belonging to someone in the way you do when you marry. Regardless of the circumstances, be patient with yourself and with your husband."
Harriet nodded. This was not what she wanted to talk about today. It was easy for Lady Somersby to hand out such wisdom; her husband was unabashedly in love with her. "Thank you for the advice. I came to inquire about the investigation into Lady X. Have any more details come to the surface?"
"I'm afraid not. And, in fact, the danger has grown more substantial."
"Goodness, I hadn't heard anything. I suppose I've been preoccupied as of late."
"Nothing significant has happened other than threats. Several of our members, myself included, have received letters."
Gracious. Had all of that happened while she'd been at Brookhaven? She wondered briefly if she'd received anything at her brother's townhome. Perhaps any such post would not have reached her at Oliver's. "Blackmail?"
She nodded. "For the most part, yes. This woman knows an alarming amount of information about our little group." She put her hand on Harriet's. "I know you want this to continue. I do, too, but it's time for us to realize that it's finished. I will not put anyone else in danger. We will let the metropolitan police handle the crimes in this city."
Anger flared in her chest, warming her entire body. "Because they do such a spectacular job at it?" Harriet asked, not bothering to temper her tone.
"If there was another way, I would … " Lady Somersby shook her head. "The Brotherhood has deemed it unsafe for us to participate in any such activities for the foreseeable future."
"In other words, the Ladies of Virtue is no more?"
"What's done is done. I'm sorry, Harriet, I know this means a lot to you. It does for me, too." She came to her feet. "I trust you can see yourself out." Then she left the room.
Harriet had never seen Lady Somersby so defeated. She was a vivacious woman, but right now she was scared, well and truly scared. Someone had to do something about this mysterious Lady X.
There was only one person in London who had seen the woman. Lord Ashby had met with her when she had contacted him at his newspaper about a story of ladies who secretly disposed of crime. If anyone could find her, Lord Ashby would know how.
…
As she was led into Lord Ashby's townhome, it occurred to her that she and Iris had missed each other's weddings. The new Lady Ashby would be here as well.
Harriet was led to their parlor where they both sat reading. "My apologies for interrupting."
"Harriet!" Iris stood and embraced her friend. "I'm sorry for not being there for your wedding. I do hope you understand I was unable to get away."
Harriet waved her hand. "You had your own ceremony to prepare for. Mine was unexpected, to say the least. I hate that I missed yours. I heard it was lovely."
Iris smiled warmly at her husband, Merritt. "It truly was."
Enough with the pleasantries. They could catch up with each other at a later date. Right now, she had a far more important task at hand. "I need to meet with Lady X," she said. "Can you still contact her, my lord?"
Merritt frowned.
"What is the matter, Harriet?"
"Nothing. I am weary of some faceless, nameless woman stealing from us what we have all worked so damned hard for."
Iris's brows rose. "You're not usually so impassioned. Come and sit, have some tea."
She didn't want any bloody tea, she wanted her group back. She wanted to salvage something in her life. She shook her head, then focused on Merritt again. "Will you schedule a meeting for me with her?"
"I'm not certain that's a good idea," he said.
"Either you do it, or I'll run an advertisement in The Times and do it myself. I suspect your way will speed things up some," Harriet said.
Iris put a hand on Harriet's arm. "It's too dangerous."
"I know how to protect myself, the same as you. And I will take every precaution."
Merritt eyed his wife a moment, and Iris nodded. He stood and walked to the small writing desk on the opposite wall. After quickly writing something, he held the paper out to Harriet.
She reached for it, but he did not release his hold.
"Tell us what you are planning to do so that someone knows where you are," he said.
She explained that the townhome Oliver owned, where she had been practicing her skills, was empty. She would request Lady X meet her there and offer her whatever sum of money she required.
Iris embraced her again. "Promise me you shall be careful."
"I promise. I'll even bring a weapon along just in case."
It was time to put this woman's threats to rest. Certainly, all she wanted was money and, though Harriet had never lacked for anything, she now had access to a seemingly bottomless pit of funds. She could find this Lady X and pay her to move to the Americas. Then her beloved Ladies of Virtue would be back in business, as it were.
Chapter Eighteen
Oliver waited for nearly an hour before going to search for Harriet. She was nowhere to be found-neither of their bedchambers, nor the parlors, nor the library, nor the garden. He ignored the thoughts clawing up his throat. Harriet was gone.
She had left him.
He'd told her to go, so why wouldn't she do precisely that?
He'd wanted to believe that her love was true, that it wasn't fleeting, and that it would be enough to sustain them. He'd been wrong. Or rather, he'd been right. She'd told him she loved him that one time in the shower, as she'd climaxed. It had been only her physical release, not her true feelings for him.
If that were the case, if his wife had left him, then he'd merely go back to his life as it had been before their union . He had his work to do, his investments. His mother had rekindled her romance, and he suspected she would wed any time now. He'd been a selfish bastard, and it had cost him the most beautiful woman he'd ever known.
The clock on the mantel struck the hour. He swore. He was officially late to Benedict's for their meeting. He grabbed his sketchbook and pencil and left for the club. Thankfully, tonight was business and he could go in the back door, thus preventing him from having to engage with anyone save Benedict himself.
Quarter of an hour later, he had already poured himself a drink and was waiting for Benedict to enter his office. Oliver tossed back his drink, then slammed it on the table.
"What has you so tied in knots?" Benedict asked as he came into the room. "Marital bliss not so blissful?"
"Go to the devil," Oliver said. He eyed the glass in front of him, noting the large crack that appeared at the base. "I'll buy you another."
Benedict laughed and poured Oliver another two fingers of Scotch in a new glass.
He slid over the drawing he'd done for the expansion. "I can't seem to get the slope of the ceiling right."
Benedict glanced over the sketch, then shrugged. "Looks perfect as usual."
"I think I could fashion a hidden panel on that wall there that would allow you access to the front room without going around," Oliver said.
Benedict eyed the part of the wall in question. "I suppose, but eventually someone would see me coming out and then they would know where I hide most of the time." They sat in silence for a few moments, simply drinking. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or just glower at me? Because if it is the latter, I can return to the main room and endure Lord Crawford's drunken rant for another half hour." Benedict shook his head. "That man cannot hold his liquor nor play a game of chance worth a damn."
"Sounds like my father," Oliver said.
"Your father was a selfish bastard. That has already been established."
Oliver glared at his friend.
He held up a hand to prevent Oliver from arguing. "Before you try to lie about what this is about, let me remind you I've known you your entire life. I know you."
Oliver exhaled and cursed his friend. But the man was right. "Harriet is unhappy." He left out the part about her having left. It was in his nature to go after her. Pursue her until she was in his arms again. But his impulsive and demanding nature is what had gotten them into this mess to begin with.