Page 2 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)

Six months later

W ith every passing minute, Rosemary Summersby further regretted agreeing to attend the ladies’ charity meeting. She shifted on the hard seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. The eye-watering smell of several strong perfumes wreathed around her, and the piercing cries of street vendors filtered in from outside.

Perhaps that was why every other lady who had arrived for the meeting was presently clustered on the other side of the room, leaving Rosemary to sit by herself in the center of the last row of chairs assembled in front of a podium. She would have joined them, if only to smile and nod, except that the ache in her right knee had started up again, and she steadfastly refused to allow anyone to see her stumble.

The only thing that kept her from rising and strolling out of the stuffy room was the promise she had made to her niece, the Viscountess Briarwood, that she would at least attempt to find some manner of activity to occupy her time. According to Saffron, it was not healthy for a woman of Rosemary’s age to spend so much time by herself. Saffron’s younger sister, Angelica, had even suggested that Rosemary consider remarrying. At three-and-forty, Angelica had said, Rosemary was not yet incapable of bearing children.

She was not entirely in opposition to this opinion. It was only that since her husband’s death more than twenty years prior, she had yet to meet a man who elicited anything beyond a flicker of mild interest. Her attentions were invariably drawn in an entirely different direction, which meant that the few intimate relationships she’d formed over the past decade had required the utmost secrecy, even from her closest family.

She glanced toward a group of three ladies and sniffed. What manner of companionship could she possibly find in an association that allowed their members to wear bloomers ? The soft, flowing garment granted greater freedom of movement, but it also accentuated the curves of a woman’s legs and caused one to imagine what might lie beneath…but that was beside the point.

The door to the salon creaked open and a bearded man in a charcoal-gray suit sauntered in, drawing the attention of several ladies. He removed his black bowler hat and turned his head around, as if searching for someone. The slight upward tilt of his snub nose combined with the narrowing of his pale-blue eyes suggested he was as uncomfortable with the casual dress of the other occupants of the room as Rosemary.

He did not take a seat but immediately approached the timid Lady Mason, who had been loitering awkwardly by the refreshment table since Rosemary had arrived.

“There you are, my lady,” the man exclaimed. “Lord Mason sent me to retrieve you.”

The room fell to a hush. Lady Mason’s fair complexion paled, and twin spots of red the same color as her gown appeared on her cheeks. She backed up until she bumped into the edge of the table, rattling several stacks of glasses. “Mr. Blake, you’re our solicitor, not a manservant.”

He stepped closer. “I’m your husband ’s solicitor and legally, I have advised him he’s within his rights to demand you come home.” He reached for her and might have caught her, but for the intervention of a woman who rushed across the room and smacked the top of Mr. Blake’s hands with a swish of her parasol.

“There will be none of that, sir,” she said, positioning herself between Lady Mason and Mr. Blake.

A fluttering started in Rosemary’s stomach and rose to her throat. There was no mistaking the brazen woman standing with her legs apart and a parasol held in both hands. It was the same lady Rosemary had been avoiding for months, because every time the Dowager Baroness Kerry looked her way, her tongue twisted in knots and all rational thought vanished from her mind. On this occasion, Lady Kerry wore navy bloomers that emphasized her narrow waist paired with a scarlet, woolen blouse trimmed in gold braid. The combination of controversial and fashionable continued in her silver-streaked black hair, simply parted at the center and smoothly pulled back into a chignon, topped with a distinctly masculine felt hat. She might have passed for a man in dim light if it weren’t for her sparkling, diamond-and-gold earrings.

“Lady Kerry,” Mr. Blake said, scorn dripping from his words. “I should not be surprised to find you are the leader of this…” He curled his lip. “ Ladies’ group.”

Rosemary began to rise from her chair to come to Lady Kerry’s aid before reminding herself that the conflict was none of her concern. She was not like her niece, who seemed to jump from one adventure to the next. Over the past several years, Saffron had unmasked the anonymous artist Ravenmore, fallen in love with the man behind the alias, and helped the then-Dowager Countess Allen stop a series of slanderous newspaper articles. But each success had been accompanied by moments of despair. It had broken Rosemary’s heart to watch her niece tearfully resolve to become Lord Briarwood’s mistress, and the future Lady Briarwood had been forced to endure weeks of being shamed by society before her reputation had been restored.

Rosemary much preferred her quiet life in her safe cottage, where she could not be similarly hurt, even if it meant she might never experience the kind of excitement her niece seemed to love.

“This is a private event, Mr. Blake,” Lady Kerry said. She turned her parasol so the tip touched the ground. “As you are not a member, I must ask that you leave. You may speak to Lady Mason when our meeting concludes.”

Mr. Blake’s frown deepened. “I am tasked by my employer to retrieve his wayward wife. It would not be wise for you to interfere, matchgirl .”

Lady Kerry stiffened as a shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. She had indeed been a match seller before her father, the Earl of Adeline, had lifted her out of poverty, claiming her as the child of his late mistress. Lady Fontaine Weston’s subsequent introduction to society and marriage to the former Baron Kerry had been a ready source of gossip in the ton . Rosemary, newly widowed at the time of the scandal, recalled how the newspapers had transformed every minor faux pas by Lady Kerry into headline news. A raised voice over a gentleman at a dinner became a shouting match. A gown worn to the opera, only a few years out of fashion, became a threadbare embarrassment. Each incident further proof that Lady Kerry’s inappropriate upbringing made her unsuited for polite society, no matter her father’s title. One particular cartoon that had caused quite a stir had depicted Baron Kerry accepting a trunk full of matches from Lord Adeline as a dowry for his new wife.

Lady Kerry thumped her parasol on the ground like a cane. “Might I remind you, Mr. Blake, that this is a ladies’ group?” She raised her eyebrows. “Unless you wish to become a member?”

Rosemary slapped a hand over her mouth but didn’t quite stifle her snicker.

Mr. Blake’s face turned deep magenta. Rather than respond, he swiped out a hand and caught Lady Kerry’s parasol, then attempted to wrench it out of her grip. But instead of sending the woman staggering, or striking her with her own weapon, he ended up in a rather amusing game of tug of war.

Laughter erupted in the crowd, but cut off abruptly when Mr. Blake released his hold and lunged toward Lady Mason. She gave a shrill scream but was spared becoming the victim of Mr. Blake’s attack by Lady Kerry, who launched herself in his path.

The resulting scuffle lasted only a few seconds, ending when Lady Kerry slammed her heel onto Mr. Blake’s foot. He uttered a strangled curse before stumbling out the door.

The moment Mr. Blake was no longer present, the victorious Lady Kerry was mobbed by women chattering their questions and offering exclamations of admiration. The noise was nearly enough to give Rosemary a megrim. She pushed to her feet and said, in her most commanding voice, “Ladies!”

A dozen heads turned toward her, including that of Lady Kerry. The woman was even more striking in her rumpled state, with small tendrils of black hair floating around her flushed cheeks. Rosemary licked her lips. The words that usually came so naturally to her during moments of chaos flitted out of her mind in fits and starts like a leaf caught by a breeze.

“I-Is this not a meeting?” Rosemary asked. She grasped for the back of her chair to steady herself. “I do not believe we should allow a man to disrupt our schedule.”

“She’s right,” Lady Kerry said. She tucked the ragged edge of her right sleeve away and strode confidently toward the podium. When she reached it, she straightened. “We have a matter of great importance to discuss today. If everyone would please be seated, we can begin.”

The command in her tone had Rosemary falling back into her chair, and soon every seat was filled.

“As the designated speaker for this month’s meeting,” Lady Kerry said, “I wish to inform all of you about the dire situation in London’s orphanages.”

Several ladies around Rosemary groaned, and then a voice called out, “Again? That’s all you ever want to talk about.”

“The speaker gets to choose the topic,” another voice said. “None of us wanted to hear your lecture on the etiquette of calling cards last week, Mrs. Gilly.”

There was a smattering of laughter, then the room fell silent.

“Thank you, Lady Cowper,” Lady Kerry said. “I’d like to report on the relocation scheme the Foundation for the Betterment of Destitute Orphans started earlier this year…”

She continued for some time, expanding upon reports from Halifax regarding the treatment of children. Rosemary paid little attention, enraptured as she was by the speaker. She had never met another woman with such natural leadership qualities. Had Lady Kerry been a man, she would have made a spectacular politician or military leader. But the circumstances of her birth combined with her sex meant she would never achieve that level of success.

Rosemary shook the foolish thoughts from her head. She had obviously been spending too much time with Lady Briarwood, who had become far more radical in her political views since she had given birth to a daughter. The viscountess had even convinced her husband to bring several proposals supporting the rights of women before Parliament, although all had been struck down. Her determination was admirable, if misplaced.

Lady Kerry finished her speech, no doubt having gained the support of a few of the ladies present. She stepped away from the podium, which seemed to be the sign that the meeting was adjourned, as the group quickly dispersed.

Rosemary rose to her feet. At least she could confirm to her niece that she had attended the event and had no desire to repeat the experience. She was simply not interested in championing a cause, unlike many other widows. They might fill their days with charities and fundraising, but Rosemary preferred to focus on matters much closer to home. For example, ensuring her grandniece, Daisy, was given a proper education.

Perhaps that was why Saffron had insisted she attend this event. She had been spending a fair amount of time with Daisy. Was Saffron too polite to tell her she was making a nuisance of herself?

She exited the salon onto the bustling, dusty street and resolved to purchase more books and painting supplies. If her niece did not want her around, then she would spend more time in her cottage. There were many ways to occupy one’s time. She only needed to find them.

As a cab rattled up to stop in front of her, she caught a flash out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head slightly, then hissed in a breath. Mr. Blake stood in the shadowy alley beside the salon with hands in his pockets. He could’ve been waiting for a cab, or hiding from the ladies exiting the building, but some small part of her knew he was waiting for Lady Kerry.

She should have turned around and left. The way Lady Kerry had confronted Mr. Blake was proof enough of her competency. But as Mr. Blake peered around the edge of the salon, the driver of the cab slid down from his post, spat a chunk of tobacco, then said, “That Mr. Blake’s a right bastard. Whatever he’s up to, I wouldn’t go interferin’, if I were you.”

It shouldn’t have bothered her that the driver had surmised her inner conflict and had come to a similar conclusion. But nothing had ever bothered her more than when someone told her what not to do.

She heaved a frustrated sigh before waving the man and the cab away. She would make exactly one attempt to warn Lady Kerry, if the woman was even still inside the salon. If she had already departed or was not interested in hearing what Rosemary had to say, she could at least claim she had tried. That would salve her conscience.

But as she maneuvered across the street, the door to the salon opened and Lady Kerry stepped out wearing a dark-blue cloak about her shoulders, despite the unseasonably warm temperature. As Lady Kerry lifted the hood of her cloak over her head, Rosemary was struck anew by the lady’s beauty. According to the standards of the ton , she was merely pretty, but Rosemary’s own preferences had always been more in line with those of the ancient Egyptians, a shapely silhouette, strong features, and a full bosom. The few women who had shared her bed since her husband’s death had met all the same criteria.

She realized she had stopped in the middle of the road and continued her determined march toward Lady Kerry. Unfortunately, her momentary lapse in focus had given Lady Kerry enough of a lead that Rosemary wasn’t able to stop her before she walked past the spot where Mr. Blake was waiting.

“Lady Kerry!” she shouted, but it was too late. Mr. Blake lunged from the shadows, wrapped his arms around the woman, and dragged her back into the alley. Rosemary’s stomach dropped, and she burst into a run. There were many awful things a man could do to a woman, especially one he felt had wronged him. One’s title and status ceased being an effective deterrent when a man was provided with sufficient privacy, especially when there was no risk of an angry husband pursuing him later.

She reached the alley, only to find Lady Kerry standing over the crumpled body of Mr. Blake. Her hat was by her feet, the chignon at the back of her head was half-undone, and there was a silver hatpin clutched in her hand.

The tension that had wrapped around Rosemary drained away. Her initial assumption had been correct. Lady Kerry had not required her assistance. As the woman had not yet noticed her, she could back away and— CLANG.

She kicked a discarded can. Lady Kerry spun around and raised her fists to her chin like a boxer facing down an opponent. Although Rosemary couldn’t imagine a boxer brandishing a hatpin as a weapon. When Lady Kerry’s piercing gaze met Rosemary’s, however, she dropped her posture and frowned. “Mrs. Summersby. What are you doing here?”

A dozen excuses popped into existence in her mind. Excuses that would not reveal that she had been watching the woman with more than a passing interest. But as she opened her mouth to coolly say that she had simply been passing by and would now leave Lady Kerry to her own, the truth came pouring out instead.

“I saw him waiting for you. I tried to follow, but you were too fast.”

“Ah,” Lady Kerry said. “Well, as you’re here, would you mind helping me fix the mess I’ve made of my hair?” She lifted her arm to the level of her shoulder and grazed her curls with her fingers. “This is as far as I can reach.”

Rosemary stepped closer without realizing she was doing it. Lady Kerry had that impact on people, a kind of charisma that was impossible to resist. As her fingers touched the woman’s curls, a shiver went up her arm. Lady Kerry’s hair was incredibly soft and shiny, and such a beautiful shade of black. Rosemary had always wished she could achieve the same luster in her brown locks, but she had never been willing to try the different chemicals and formulations other ladies used to achieve that look. Without asking, she knew that Lady Kerry used no such techniques. Aside from the fact that her eyebrows were the same shade, she couldn’t imagine the woman, who seemed so dedicated to helping others, covering her hair in paste in order to become more fashionable.

Rosemary accepted the hatpin from Lady Kerry and tucked it back into place. This was something with which she was well familiar, having assisted her nieces with their coiffure for years after they’d come to live with her upon the death of their parents at the tender ages of five and three-and-ten.

The man on the ground groaned, making Rosemary startle and nearly stab Lady Kerry. She hurriedly pushed everything into place, hooked her arm with Lady Kerry’s, then hustled them out of the alley. Lady Kerry chuckled but did not resist.

When they had passed several streets together, Rosemary found she was annoyed. She had attempted a rescue and instead had become involved in some manner of sordid activity.

“Where shall we go?” Lady Kerry asked, amusement clear in her tone.

Rosemary huffed. “Anywhere that is far from here.”

Lady Kerry’s tinkling laugh sent another round of shivers up Rosemary’s spine. The woman had no shame dressing in such scandalous garb. Acting as if she were the only person who cared about the welfare of orphans. Of course, she had the history of being an orphan herself, so it was no surprise that it was something she cared about, but—Rosemary clamped down on her thoughts. If she were speaking, she would’ve been rambling.

“You shouldn’t have aggravated him,” she said.

Lady Kerry sighed. “I understand you believe that, but I could not let him take Lady Mason. Her husband has done enough violence against her to last a lifetime. Several ladies, myself included, have been harboring her to keep them apart.”

A ball formed in Rosemary’s throat. She had assumed Lady Kerry had had her own interests at heart, showing herself as the leader of the group by kicking out Mr. Blake. She had not considered that it had not been for her own benefit, but entirely for Lady Mason’s.

“I apologize,” she said. “I should not have… assumed. It is rather a bad habit for me.”

Saffron had often vexingly told her to stop pressing her own assumptions and beliefs upon others. But she had been raised in an era when obedience to one’s elders was of the utmost importance, and maintaining a respectful social standing was paramount. Unlearning those behaviors and realizing how she had hurt both Saffron and Angelica had caused her no end of stress.

Lady Kerry chuckled. “I am used to it, Mrs. Summersby. But if you were scandalized by what happened at the salon or in the alley, I would recommend that you do not follow me to my next destination.”

The same contrary nature that had caused Rosemary to come to Lady Kerry’s aid determined her response.

“Where are you going?” she asked. Lady Kerry had taken charge of their direction and now Rosemary was more curious than concerned. The electrifying thrill that had filled her when she’d discovered Lady Kerry standing over Mr. Blake had not yet dissipated, and she found she didn’t want it to.

Perhaps her niece was the one who had figured out something important. Saffron’s constant adventure-seeking had always seemed inappropriate and ridiculous. Rosemary had never felt a desire to experience that same adventure… until she had seen Lady Kerry playing the dashing heroine, besting Mr. Blake without assistance.

Saffron had asked her to form relationships. To find something with which to occupy her time. Perhaps that is exactly what she would do.

“Whitechapel,” Lady Kerry said, as if casually telling Rosemary what she had eaten that morning. As if being seen near a workhouse wouldn’t be a scandal in and of itself.

“You cannot be serious,” Rosemary said. “That is no place for a lady of your status.” She could only imagine what the newspapers would write if they learned. Phrases like matchstick girl returning home and Baroness Whitechapel came easily to mind. She had no idea why she didn’t bid Lady Kerry a good evening and walk away. The dowager baroness was clearly determined to see herself injured, parading about London in a scandalous outfit. Confronting men in salons. It had nothing to do with her, and yet Rosemary did not want to leave. She had not felt so invigorated in weeks.

“In any case, you do not need to follow me,” Lady Kerry said.

A casual comment, but it sealed Rosemary’s decision.

“The two of us will make less of a target than one alone,” she said. “I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to traipse off into a dangerous area of the city by yourself.”

Lady Kerry chuckled. “You are certainly determined. As you wish. Perhaps, however, we might take a cab, rather than walk the entire distance?”

That was something even Rosemary could agree to.