Page 23 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock (The Rogue’s Alliance #3)

“I agree that Lady Cairs is an excellent candidate for our Cupid,” Edith said from her place on the settee of Thorne’s Lending Library.

“Did you ask your father about Venus and Cupid?” Louisa asked her friend.

Edith nodded. “He had no idea of anyone in society being referred to by either moniker.”

“My father has barred Lord Wycliffe from Carstairs, and Leopold agreed with the decision.”

“It’s understandable,” Edith replied calmly. “The man's home was burgled, and he is known to be hunting down members of the Rogue's Alliance. I wonder what the ton thinks of the viscount destroying perfectly serviceable clocks.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Louisa felt a laugh bubble up in her throat. She put a hand over her mouth.

“What is it?”

“Everyone must think Lord Wycliffe is superstitious or mentally unsound.” Her laugh burst forth, and Edith joined her. “He might well be the main topic of conversation at Lady Sandhurst’s card party this evening.”

Both were silent a moment as they caught their breath.

“Someone is looking through the window at us,” Edith squinted in the direction of the front of the library. “I think it is Cecil’s man. The one named Mr. Bones.”

Louisa felt her heart race. Now that the viscount had her clock there was no reason for Bones to follow her. Perhaps Lord Wycliffe was still concerned about her safety.

“Lord Wycliffe is still having me watched.” Before Edith could respond, Louisa smiled, adding lightly, “I think we should attend the exhibition at Dulwich Picture Gallery tomorrow afternoon. If you recall, I wanted to view some of David Wilkie’s work.”

“You are up to something, Louisa. I can always tell because you’re far too cheerful.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, taken aback.

“You always smile far too much when you’re planning something.”

“I think we should walk down the street to Gunter’s.” She stood up.

“It’s cold outside,” Edith replied, frowning.

She rolled her eyes. “And while walking, we should loudly discuss our intention of visiting the exhibition tomorrow.”

Edith grinned. “Ah, I understand now. You want me to brave the cold air and possibly dying of the flu to ensure you have a chance to see Lord Wycliffe again.”

“Edith!” She felt warmth on her cheeks.

“Of course, then you can tell him in person that Lady Cairs is our Cupid.”

She raised her chin. “Exactly.”

“And since I’m risking my health, you will agree to come to supper tomorrow evening. Alicia is throwing a dinner party for Lord and Lady Kettering.”

“A whole evening listening to Alicia and Lady Kettering chatter on?” She frowned. “Well then. You’re purchasing our sweets at Gunter’s.”

* * * * *

W hen Cecil returned to Curzon Street pleasantly full after his delicious luncheon at the George and Vulture, he was greeted by Bones, who helped him with his outerwear and then followed his employer into the drawing room.

“Any news to share?” Cecil asked his companion as he took a seat in his favorite chair and propped his feet on a footstool.

“The story of your burning the carriage clocks has spread throughout London. As has news of the burglary.”

“That is a good thing,” he replied. “I want you to find out if Lady Louisa has any plans in Town tomorrow.”

“Will that be all, my lord?”

“Is Henry in?”

Bones nodded. “He is in the kitchen polishing your Hessian boots. I am glad to say there are some provisions in the house now.”

“No sign of Cook?”

Bones shook his head. “He has disappeared.”

“That will be all.”

When Bones had departed, he sat quietly for a while. Thinking. Venus and Cupid. Neither he nor Nathaniel had discovered anyone in the ton with those nicknames.

Although his clock was no longer hidden in the drawing room, his letter from Lord Daventry was. Cecil got to his feet and locked the door to the room. Retrieving the letter from its hiding place behind the dresser, he unlocked the door and settled in his chair to reread the note.

Daventry had written the letter from his estate in Northamptonshire. The Duke of Montagu’s family seat was in Northamptonshire as well, he recalled. Perhaps the third RA founder was also from the same county.

There was no further information he could glean from the letter. Cecil folded it and placed it with Louisa’s note inside his jacket pocket. With the way his luck was running, if he left the papers in the house, he would come home one day to find the townhouse in ashes.

There was a discreet knock at the drawing room door, and Henry peeked in.

“My lord, I’ve made a fresh pot of tea and some biscuits if you’ll have some.”

“You can bake as well, Henry?”

“I’m a master of many skills, my lord.” He coughed. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

“Not at all. I would love some tea and biscuits.”

“I’ll return in a moment.”

When the man returned, the tray held a teapot, a cup, and a plate of shortbread. “Bones said as you take your tea black.”

“Thank you, Henry. That is all for now.”

He sampled the shortbread, which was delicious, as was the tea. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the matter at hand.

Venus and Cupid. Venus and Cupid. He was so close.

* * * * *

L ouisa arrived home that afternoon to an empty house. Empty of her family, anyway.

“Where is everyone?” she asked Lucy upon entering her bedchamber and finding the maid there putting away stockings in a dresser.

“Your father and Leopold are at the shooting gallery. Your mother is attending a tea given by Lady Norfolk, and I’m not sure where the rest of your brothers are.”

“The house seems so quiet without them here.”

The maid looked up from her work to smile. “I agree, my lady.”

“After supper, I will accompany Lord and Lady Harbury to a card party.”

“Your blush evening dress with the peach rosettes on the hem is airing out in the dressing room,” the maid replied, finished with her task. “Is there anything else, my lady?”

“I should like to rest before supper, Lucy. See that I’m not disturbed.”

Despite competing thoughts of Lord Wycliffe and the clue of Venus running through her head, Louisa soon fell asleep on top of the coverlet of her bed, only waking up when Lucy appeared to help her mistress dress for her evening.

Supper was a quiet affair with only her parents at home.

“How is your friend Lady Harbury?” her father asked during the meal. “Has she given birth yet?”

“Edith is well, Father. It is Charlotte who is with child.”

He nodded. “Oh yes, yes. Lady Ashford. Both of your friends made extraordinary matches.”

“They did,” she replied with a smile. “I am so glad Edith and Charlotte are both happy.”

“I’m sure you will find a suitor worthy of you, my dear,” her mother interjected kindly.

Louisa hoped she would meet someone who not only shared her interests but loved her.Seeing her friends so happily matched, she wanted the same for herself.

When she arrived at Lady Sandhurst’s card party, it was to find that Lord Wycliffe was indeed the topic of conversation. To her chagrin, she was included in the gossip as it was well known one of the clocks destroyed had belonged to her.

Over a hand of Loo, her hostess asked, “Did you know Lord Wycliffe was going to destroy your clock?”

“I did,” she replied firmly. “If someone was willing to break into his home and restrain his servants... Well, I couldn’t have that happening to my family.”

“He could have given the clocks away,” another lady pointed out.

She smiled tightly. “Then the problem would just be transferred to someone else. Now nobody has the clocks.”

It wasn’t long before she was tired of answering questions about her clock, and for that matter, Lord Wycliffe. Louisa felt a migraine coming on. At the late supper break, she asked Edith if she and Nathaniel would take her home.

“Of course, my friend.” Edith patted her shoulder. “I’m sure all the attention can be quite wearing.”

By the time she returned to Carstairs, Louisa wanted nothing more than to be alone. She collected the Thomas Hope book from the drawing room and took it to her bedchamber. She'd tucked copies of her sketches of the mythology inside the book. Studying them in the privacy of her room brought her no closer to determining who Venus might be.

Louisa hoped to see Lord Wycliffe at the exhibition tomorrow. If not, she would ask Edith to have Nathaniel pass on the news about Cupid.

There had been a moment when Cecil handed her the flowers in the drawing room when Louisa thought he might feel something for her. An awareness had flashed in his eyes. It was a moment she held onto. If he were at the picture gallery tomorrow, she would take it as a sign he wanted to see her, too.

“I’m mad,” she said into a pillow, hugging it to her chest. “Lord Wycliffe only has thoughts for the Rogue’s Alliance, not me.”