The Marquess and the Maiden(32)

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.