Page 32

R ather than waiting for one of the Penhallow carriages to be readied, Lucy’s butler summoned a hansom cab for their trip back to Miss Fleetwood’s house in Holborn.

There was no question this time of whether they would sit side by side in the vehicle’s dank interior. Will told the driver their destination and climbed inside next to Lucy. That hers was the hand that sought out his gave him a warm feeling in the vicinity of his heart, but he wasn’t ready to examine it too closely yet.

“I feel sure our mamas would like for us to join the melee in Hyde Park this afternoon to give society a chance to approve our betrothal,” Lucy said as the driver set the horses in motion.

Will’s mother, he was certain, would prefer for them to stage a very public dissolution of said betrothal, but he wasn’t about to tell that to Lucy. There would be more than time enough to discuss what was to be done about the present Lady Gilford. Besides, her friendship with Meg had doubtless given her plenty of glimpses into the less-than-pleasant personality of their mother.

“I daresay they would,” he said now, hoping he struck the carefree tone he was aiming for. “But the announcement will be in the evening papers. That should be opportunity enough for the beau monde to adjust to the notion.”

“Already?” Lucy turned to face him. “I thought tomorrow or the next day.”

Will was too embarrassed to tell her that the sooner the betrothal was made public, the sooner his creditors would call off their dogs and the repairs to the tenant farms that had been ignored by his erstwhile steward could begin.

Instead, he gave her a half truth. “When your fiancée is the cousin of one of London’s most successful newspaper owners and columnists, there is no trouble stopping the presses.”

Her eyes widened. “You had Kate stop the presses?”

“I don’t know what she did, actually,” he admitted. “I just asked Eversham to see to it last night, and Kate sent a note around this morning to congratulate me and to inform me that the notice would run today in the afternoon edition of the Gazette .”

Looking at their joined hands, Lucy’s brow furrowed. “Now that we are betrothed, I have begun to wonder how Vera can have neglected to tell Meg, Elise, and me about her broken engagement back in Philadelphia.”

“How do you mean?” Will asked. He’d assumed the friendship between Vera Blackwood and the other Ems was the sort of superficial alliance that seemed to happen every season with different groups of ladies. But Lucy spoke as if they were closer than that.

She thought for a moment, then gave a small sigh. “I suppose I overestimated our closeness. But in my defense, Vera was quite forthcoming about her life back home in the United States. She described the social season there and compared it to ours. And she spoke of how many suitors presented to her by her father and aunts she’d rejected. Because she said she would settle for nothing less than a love match.”

“So, she expected to find a love match here in London?” he asked with a frown. “That seems unlikely when her father was said to be title-shopping for her.”

“I realize that now.” Lucy fiddled with a bit of ribbon dangling from her pelisse. “But now I wonder if she intended to go along with her father’s plans here at all.”

“He didn’t say anything about her objecting to his attempts to find a match for her,” Will argued. Then he shook his head. “I apologize. You know Miss Blackwood and this situation far better than I ever could.”

Despite the seriousness of the subject, Lucy gave a snort of laughter. “Did you just say you regret attempting to give your own uninformed opinion precedence over my informed one?”

He met her gaze with his. “Why is that amusing?”

Lucy leaned her head to rest on his shoulder. “I think you may be the perfect man, Viscount Gilford.”

Now it was Will’s turn to snort. “Hardly.”

“Even so,” Lucy said, squeezing their joined hands. “I don’t discount Vera’s preference for a love match, but as for myself, I am very happy to make a match with a gentleman who treats me as if I am not an ignorant ninny.”

“No happier than I am to be engaged to a lady who is not an ignorant ninny.” Will kissed the top of her head, and they rode on for some minutes in contented silence.

But after a time, Lucy sat bolt upright. “What happened to the wife?”

“What wife?” Will asked before the answer came to him. “You’re right,” he said. “There was a wife listed on the ship’s manifest, but the embassy made no mention of Jedidiah Hamilton being married.”

“So where is this alleged wife?” Lucy asked, her blue eyes bright with intelligence.

“Something we will ask your cousin when we return,” Will said as the horses began to slow. “We are nearly to Miss Fleetwood’s house.”

Lucy removed her hand from his and set about doing all those things ladies did to prepare themselves for visiting. She made sure her hair was tidy and the ribbon of her straw bonnet was tied at a jaunty angle beneath her chin.

She must have felt him watching her, because she gave a soft smile. “Will I do?”

“Of course,” Will assured her with a half smile. “Though I’m not sure why you bother for Miss Fleetwood and her maid.”

This time, Lucy looked disappointed in his answer. “Because everyone deserves respect, Will. Even ladies-turned-actresses-turned-spiritualists and their maids.”

It was a similar attitude to the one his father had exhibited. One he’d forgotten in the years since losing him.

“Point taken,” he said as the cab came to a stop. “I will try to do better.”

Once he was out on the pavement, he reached inside and lifted Lucy down, trying not to respond to the feeling of her breast brushing against his chest. Even through their combined layers of clothes, it was enough to send his imagination on a flight of fancy.

If Lucy’s pink cheeks were any indication, her response had been similar.

Will paid the driver and gave him another half crown to wait.

When they got to Miss Fleetwood’s door this time, however, it was ajar.

Some prickle of unease stirred the hair on the nape of Will’s neck. “Stay out here,” he told Lucy in a firm voice.

She didn’t argue, only said in as firm a voice, “Take care.”

He gave her a hard kiss, then pushed open the door until it was open wide enough for him to go inside. The echo of his boots on the polished wood floors was loud in his ears as he made his way upstairs.

As he went, he called out to the maid who’d let them in the other day. “Hetty!”

When no answer came, he cried, “Miss Fleetwood?”

Nearing the drawing room where they’d met the spiritualist, Will saw that the door was closed. It had been open when he and Lucy were here.

Walking as quietly as he could, Will took a deep breath, and then, hoping he wasn’t about to come to harm so soon after finding Lucy, he turned the knob and pushed open the door.