Page 3

“L ord Morgan, please join Mr. Carmody in the cigar salon. Egeus will escort you. Miss Carmody and I have a wedding to plan.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon, owner of the Lyon’s Den and broker of marriages, was dressed head to toe in unrelenting black. There was a mere suggestion of the striking woman behind the thick widow’s veil.

Her father gave Birdy a pat on the shoulder and a nod of encouragement before walking out the door. Crispin left with a bow and a crease of concern across his brow. He turned as if to say something to her but only shook his head and left without a word.

“I see you found the port,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said with a smile in her voice after the door closed behind them. “Did he need a bit of liquid courage?”

“We both did, to be honest.” Birdy tempered her growing curiosity by studying the Black Widow’s movements as she settled behind the desk. Her manner suggested a woman of confidence who knew her place in the world she’d created. For all her matrimonial machinations hidden behind a gaming house, Birdy could sense no deception in the woman.

A good merchant knew how to read a customer and the Carmodys were excellent merchants. Mrs. Dove-Lyon wanted something. All Birdy had to do was figure out what it was.

“Did you find Lord Morgan satisfactory?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon poured herself a few sips of port and held out the bottle to offer Birdy another glass.

“I did.” Birdy moved her glass away with a small shake of her head. She needed to shift this conversation from banalities to more solid ground. “My detour to the kitchen was no mistake, Madam. It was eye-opening for me. I can only wonder what benefit it was to you.”

“I needed you to understand the true stakes. You had to see for yourself what sort of man your father had bargained for. I gambled on your continued interest once you had more information. I deceive neither the bride nor groom. Your father is downstairs now, getting the full measure of Lord Morgan. If I’ve guessed correctly, he will not mention our sick room guest to your father.”

“Yet you thought I needed to know.” Birdy relaxed her spine by a hairsbreadth and reached for her glass. “I appreciate that.”

“I knew you would. Your father touted your intelligence, and I’m pleased to say you live up to his boasting. What I don’t yet understand is why you agreed to my services.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon took a tiny sip of port as she awaited a response.

“I always knew I would marry, and I trust my father. As I’m sure he told you, my prospects at home are limited. Our trading post is on an island where everyone knows everyone else and all their particulars, good and bad.”

“Your father explained your situation. Having two volatile suitors is no reflection upon you, but I’m unfamiliar with the ways of the red Indians.”

“People,” Birdy corrected her. “The Ojibwe do not call themselves Indians . We are not from India. We’re Anishinaabe, the human beings.”

“Noted,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon acknowledged with a stiff smile. “I will remember and not make this mistake in the future. It is not in my nature nor my best interests to be offensive to anyone, especially one of my brides.”

“One of the men’s family members started rumors I fanned the flames of violence,” Birdy blurted out, compelled to explain. “I was accused of having a bad spirit. My father refused to allow a purging ceremony, as he rightfully insisted there was nothing wrong with me. The accusation and my father’s decision generated suspicion and mistrust. There will be no honorable offers on our island.”

“Gossip is a powerful weapon, is it not? Lucky for us, it works both ways.”

“I’m not certain I understand your meaning.” Now they were getting to the heart of the matter. A ripple of excitement ran up Birdy’s spine. Discovering what Mrs. Dove-Lyon wanted from her was as thrilling as a hunt.

“We have a wedding to plan. That means dress fittings and trousseau shopping. I’m footing the bill. Unless, of course, you trust your father to pick out gowns for you.”

“You’re gambling with my life, madam.” Birdy looked around the ornate office with beautifully-turned wood trim and heavy furniture. “Right now, I’m thinking that if you harm my father, this place will burn to the ground quite nicely.”

“Ha!” Mrs. Dove-Lyon barked out a laugh. “That’s the spirit I’m looking for! Only, of course, I need it directed at your real enemy. Do you think I picked your name out of a hat? Sometimes being successful is being in the right place at the right time. Your past and Lord Morgan’s future aligned to meet in the middle at the Lyon’s Den. Don’t you believe in fate?”

“What do you want of me?” Birdy’s eyes narrowed, and she resisted the urge to clench her hands into fists.

“Knowledge is power. I want to know what people are saying about the young woman downstairs. Someone knows where her husband has gone and if he’s traveling with an infant. If he’s fostered the child, someone will have heard of a new little bundle of joy showing up somewhere. If the child is dead, someone had to dispose of the body.”

“And you think you can find all that out in a dress shop?”

“No, you misunderstand your purpose. Enough time has passed that tongues will have loosened. We need to know if the child lived. My brides stay loyal to me, they will tell me what they’ve heard. As a widow and an outsider, we’ll pass through the shopping arcade as invisible as ghosts, arousing no suspicion. Will you help?”

“Of course,” Birdy replied with relief. “Even if kept isolated by her husband, Miss Lamb would have had servants. If my thinking is correct, her household here in Town would have had local servants for any leased properties. What did they see and where are they now?”

“Precisely.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon raised her glass in tribute. “I knew you’d figure it out. I’ll seek out information from those who owe me favors. My staff is the very soul of discretion, but most servants gossip like magpies.”

“If London is anything like Montreal, trained servants are a prized commodity. I’ll pretend Lord Morgan and I will need to staff an entire house. That gives me an excuse to ask around.”

“Oh, you are clever,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said with a smile. “You would make a formidable enemy. You’ll have no need to take a torch to my establishment. We’re going to be great friends.”

“I hope so.” Birdy relaxed enough to sit back in her chair. “Miss Lamb and Lord Morgan will be much relieved to hear news of the child. What about her husband?”

“Do not concern yourself with Lord Dunwoody. He has enough blunt to be a formidable enemy to Lord Morgan. You don’t know anyone named Lamb. You met no one in our kitchen. Lady Dunwoody is dead. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“I will feign ignorance but keep my eyes and ears open.” Reaching across for the bottle, Birdy poured herself another glass of wine. “Once Lord Morgan and I have married, what will you do with the jiibay in your kitchen?”

“ Jiibay ?”

“Ghost,” Birdy explained. “What shall you do about the ghost in your kitchen?”

“Our ghost will be spirited out of Town while everyone is distracted by your wedding to Lord Morgan.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon took another sip of her wine before continuing, “I did not pair you with Crispin Morgan by chance. He needs your intelligence and strength, and you need his tender heart and loyalty. I do not force couples to marry. It has to be your choice.”

“Promises have been made. I will wed Crispin Morgan. You and I will go shopping for dresses and information.” It was done. She’d spoken it aloud. Her gut wasn’t clenched, her head didn’t hurt. Her spirit was at peace with marrying Lord Morgan.

“I’ll have a carriage pick you up at Mivart’s Hotel tomorrow at ten,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said with a satisfied smile.

“Do you have a favorite color?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked as Birdy settled herself into the open carriage the next morning.

“I admire your black,” Birdy replied. “But it’s a bit dour for a wedding gown.”

“No one pays too much attention to a widow,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon explained as she smoothed creases from her skirt. “All the better to be seen as pitiful and harmless. Your father is determined that you should dress like a princess on your wedding day. Later today, my modiste will have you measured. I’m certain she’ll whip up something suitable.”

“I may already have something suitable.” Birdy turned away and bit her lip. How much of her thoughts were safe to reveal to a woman who fashioned herself as a black widow? “A gown from my home. My father does not know I have it.”

“How interesting.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon placed a gloved hand on Birdy’s arm. “Until this moment, I had thought perhaps your father coerced you into marriage. Maybe you were the one who planted the idea in his mind.”

“The men on our island view me as another item for sale in the trading post. I caught them making bets on who should have me. I am not a prize to be won by lottery. My mother chose my father herself. I had thought I would make my choice in this land and bring home an English man who could help my father keep our island out of the clutches of the Hudson Bay Company.”

“The Hudson Bay Company is a formidable opponent. You must know they will stop at nothing to claim more land and resources. The wilderness is profitable.”

“That is why my mother’s people need English allies. My father ensures that the white men work with the Anishinaabeg, who maintain ultimate ownership of the land. But my father will not live forever. My brother, Brody, has begun studying law to help. Without allies, our island is vulnerable. I thought my father was unaware of my plan.”

“Your father is an astute man of business. I believe he knew. If I’d known your needs ahead of time I’m not certain I would have chosen another man. Are you disappointed with Lord Morgan?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m honored that he trusts me to help save his sister. He knows the importance of family. He and I will walk well together.” At least she hoped so. If only speaking the words aloud made them true. She’d already lost sleep over Crispin Morgan. Could she afford to lose her heart?

“But where will you walk? Here or in Canada?”

“Both?” Birdy replied with a question in her voice betraying her uncertainty. She lived her life in two worlds. Marrying Crispin Morgan would force her to choose his world.

The widow turned her attention to their surroundings as the carriage stopped. “It appears we’ve arrived at the shopping arcade. I did not choose this place by chance. I’ve been informed that at least two of Dunwoody’s neighbors shop here every Tuesday, Lady Perrin and Lady Skeffington. You’re to seek out Lady Skeffington. Like you, she’s new to Town.”

“How will I find her?”

“She’s from India. A tall woman who always wears the most sumptuous silk. You’ll find her. Are you ready for battle?”

“We’ll cover more ground if we separate.” Relieved for their conversation to end, Birdy reached for the door before the footman opened it. There were many hard decisions yet to be made. Logically, she knew her life would have to change, emotionally she wasn’t ready to explore the amount of change before her. Soon she would be forced to.

“I knew you’d be good at this. Charge anything that catches your fancy to my account. Espionage can still be fun. I’ll introduce you around first, then we’ll go our separate ways. Pyramus, one of my men, will stay with you. Meet me back here in two hours and we’ll discuss lunch.”

After introductions, Birdy found a quiet corner from which to survey the room. It was easy enough to discern lady from maid but impossible to know who might have the right sort of information. Lady Dunwoody would have had servants her husband no longer needed. There would have been a midwife as well. It was time to scatter the herd.

Birdy made her way to one of the few women in the gallery whose skin was a shade other than cream. Not speaking at first, Birdy bided her time by simply walking near the woman as she shopped, ensuring she was seen. There was much to observe.

The woman was also new to Town. Her silk shawl and her accent suggested she hailed from India. Birdy almost laughed aloud at the thought of encountering a real Indian in London. She would tell the story around a campfire one day.

The woman’s maid, laden with small packages stacked in a pyramid in her arms, was too nervous to have been with her mistress for long. A fumbled and dropped package created the opportunity Birdy needed.

“I believe you dropped this,” Birdy said, presenting the package to the maid’s mistress. “I’ve overwhelmed my footman as well.” Birdy nodded toward Pyramus and smiled widely. “The goods here are nearly the equal of the Pantheon, but the prices far superior,” she said, echoing a sentiment espoused by Mrs. Dove-Lyon earlier that morning.

“You are most kind.” The lady handed the package back to her maid with an apologetic smile.

“Lady Morgan,” Birdy said, borrowing her expected title, as she held out her gloved hand. Just as she doubted it would be accepted, the lady reached out and gave it a tepid shake of acknowledgment.

“Lady Skeffington.” The woman smiled again, and Birdy knew they’d be friends. At least for today.

“Is she new?” Birdy asked, inclining her head to the maid now awkwardly holding the package under her chin.

“Is it that obvious? This is her first outing under my employ. Lord Skeffington and I only recently arrived in Town and thought ourselves quite fortunate to find experienced servants so quickly.”

“I’ve been looking for a few good people myself before we retire to the country,” Birdy lied. “Would you mind passing along the name of the agency you used?”

“That’s the fortunate part. We didn’t have to pay an agency fee. She was employed by our neighbor, an elderly lord who suddenly quit Town to take up permanently in the country. I found Jenny sitting in the square with no other prospects and snatched her up.”

“Oh, dear.” Birdy feigned disappointment. “We could use another footman and a kitchen girl as well. Might I have my husband contact the gentleman?”

“Lord Dunwoody from Soho Square, but I believe he’s already departed for his country estate. There’s a rumor his wife died. Although in the three months we resided next door, I never once saw her.”

Birdy tried hard to sound nonchalant even though every nerve was alert and waiting for the lady’s response. “Dunwoody? The name seems familiar. I believe I heard Lady Dunwoody died in childbirth.”

“How dreadful.” Lady Skeffington frowned. “The odd thing was, no undertaker collected the body unless done by cover of night. I began to doubt she was ever there at all.”

“How curious. I do so hope the infant survived. Perhaps Lord Dunwoody removed his heir to the country to raise. Did you see the infant?”

“My Lady Morgan,” Lady Skeffington said as she led Birdy a few steps away from their servants. “If you’ve designs on the widower as a recommendation for a friend, I urge you to look elsewhere. The noises from that house, his strident voice constantly yelling at and berating his servants, and there was all manner of banging and loud crashing about. I found him frightening.”

“What does your maid say of the household?” Birdy leaned in and began to whisper, “I didn’t know Lady Dunwoody but have already heard rumors of Lord Dunwoody’s ill-mannered behavior. My husband knows the man and I dislike the association. Would you mind if I asked your maid about him? Just to ease my mind.”

“I don’t understand your interest in such a detestable person, but I see no harm in a few questions. I will not force her to answer if she chooses discretion. She was, after all, turned out without warning or reference.”

“Of course.” Birdy nodded her head. “Thank you.”

The maid, Jenny, was reluctant to speak. Her eyes darted around the room as if expecting reproach from any direction at any moment. With Lady Skeffington’s approval, Birdy pressed a coin into the young woman’s hand to loosen her tongue.

“What was your position in Lord Dunwoody’s household?” Birdy asked. “Did Lady Dunwoody have a lady’s maid? Is that girl still available for hire?”

“I was upstairs maid,” Jenny whispered. “Lady Dunwoody’s maid was dismissed afore the rest of the household. Meggie was told she weren’t needed no more. His lordship must have been angry with her. She told me she was running all the way home to Ireland and never coming back.”

“He dismissed the maid before Lady Dunwoody died?”

“Yes, milady. He dismissed Meggie the day her ladyship left. I don’t know who took up caring for her.”

“Lady Dunwoody left? Are you certain?”

“Course I’m certain. She was nearly ready to pop, and I had to help get her in his lordship’s carriage. There was no luggage. We thought she was coming right back. Only, she didn’t.”

“Who delivered her baby?”

“I ain’t supposed to know nothing about that.”

“But you do, don’t you?” Birdy persisted.

“The housekeeper let it slip once, but I pretended I hadn’t heard. I didn’t want him to hurt me the way he hurt her.”

“The housekeeper? Did Lord Dunwoody hurt the housekeeper?”

“No, madam, Lady Dunwoody. He screamed and yelled at her mostly, but sometimes he’d throw things just to scare her. Housekeeper told his lordship that the midwife and the wet nurse was on their way.”

“Did you ever hear their names?”

“I don’t…” Jenny stopped and looked to Lady Skeffington for help.

“I value the truth, Jenny,” she reassured her, apparently intrigued by the gossip. “Your position is in no danger for being truthful.”

“One name. Duckworth. I only remembered it because it was so unusual. Please, milady, I can’t tell you no more.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” Lady Skeffington interrupted. “No more questions.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” Birdy chimed in. “You’ve been most helpful. I will urge my husband to keep his distance from Lord Dunwoody.” Birdy pressed another coin into Jenny’s hand before Lady Skeffington shooed the girl away.

“Has your curiosity been assuaged, Lady Morgan? I cannot guess at your keen interest in the man, but I think not to pursue it further. Now it is time for me to indulge my curiosity. You are what the English call ‘a red Indian’, are you not?”

“Yes,” Birdy admitted. How the term became popular in England was a mystery. It wasn’t only wrong; it was vaguely insulting. “A curious term that is incorrect on both counts.”

“You’re not red at all,” Lady Skeffington said with a grin that spoke of gentle teasing. “And I’m the Indian.”

“I’m from Upper Canada. My mother was of the Ojibwe people and my father is of mostly Irish heritage. How are you finding London, Lady Skeffington?”

“Tedious mostly. Like you, I’m a bit of an oddity here. I may never be accepted, but my husband is determined that I will be tolerated. Your skin is lighter than mine. I’m sure you’ll fare better.”

“Do you think you’ll ever see India again?” Birdy asked wistfully as she thought of her own far-away homeland.

“Doubtful,” Lady Skeffington replied with a note of sadness. “Will you return to your people one day with your bright, shiny Englishman?”

“I believe I will. But we will return to live in this place. My husband’s spirit belongs here.” She didn’t know Crispin well enough to speak for him, but she’d already prepared herself for him to choose England.

“No matter where I live, my spirit will always be in Bombay. I will urge my children to go there.”

“My children will be English and my heart beats well with that knowledge. You’ve been so kind and helpful, Lady Skeffington, but I see that I am behind my time and must rush away. Should we meet again, may it be as friends.”

“I’d like that,” Lady Skeffington said as she laid her hand on Birdy’s arm. “One day you must come to Soho Square and tell me what has become of Lady Dunwoody.”

Rather than a public establishment, lunch with Mrs. Dove-Lyon was taken in her office at Lyon’s Den. There was no better way to assure the privacy of the information they’d gathered.

“Lord Dunwoody still holds the lease on Goulston Square, where his wife was found,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon announced after lunch had been laid out and the servant retreated to the hallway. She lifted her veil carefully in order to eat, offering Birdy her first glimpse of the woman behind the widow’s weeds. “He will have to return there thinking to discover her body. I’ll post a guard. How did you fare?”

“Lady Skeffington was most helpful as was her maid, Jenny. The girl was dismissed by Dunwoody when he supposedly went off to the country. Through her I learned that Lady Dunwoody was whisked away from Soho Square just before giving birth. The maid mentioned there was no luggage. I’m guessing Lord Dunwoody did not expect her to return alive. I also learned he hired both a midwife and a wet nurse. Jenny remembered one of the women’s names was Duckworth.” Birdy tried not to stare as she related all that she’d discovered. Despite her powerful presence, Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s visage was remarkably plain. She looked like every other English woman. Of course, with their milky skin, middling brown hair and light eyes, they all looked alike to her.

“I didn’t give you credit for such skills,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said with a laugh. “If you ever find yourself idle and bored, you might come to work for me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Birdy, famished, dug into the meal. As she ate, she reminded herself that while today’s outing was exciting, there was still a wedding for her to get through. There might yet come a day when she’d be an idle, bored, and neglected wife.

“I have a few leads on what Dunwoody might have done with the child,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon explained. “His former mistress has retired to a respectable little place in Cheapside, and his sister resides in Norwich. He owns a hunting lodge in Scotland and a small estate in Lincolnshire.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover looking for an infant,” Birdy added. “We’ll have to narrow it down or investigate them one by one.”

“I’ll ask around the gaming floor tonight. If we can determine where Dunwoody went after Town, we’ll know where to start looking. I’ve already got my coachman asking around the stables near Soho Square. My modiste will be here after lunch to see what we can do about your dress. Tomorrow we’ll have another shopping excursion.”

“Lord Morgan will be much relieved that we have helpful information.” Birdy couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride at what she’d learned. “Wait,” she said as the idea occurred to her. “Are you reporting the information we’ve uncovered back to Lord Morgan today?”

“I suspect Lord Dunwoody is having Lord Morgan watched. We don’t want to arouse his suspicion enough to watch the two of us as well. I have no intention of sharing this knowledge with Lord Morgan until I have something definitive.”

“Watched? Oh, of course, he’d want to know when someone found her. What will Lord Dunwoody do if her corpse is never discovered?”

“He’ll want to play the part of a grieving widower to erase any suspicion. He’ll make a grand show of discovering her body.”

“We have to find that baby.”

“You’re going to marry Lord Morgan, aren’t you?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon pushed her nearly empty plate away. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

“I told you I would, and I shall.”

“Good. You really are the perfect match. I’m betting my reputation on it. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t.”