Page 30 of The Elusive Phoebe (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #1)
Chapter Twenty-Two
LADY VICTORIA ASHWORTH'S LONDON SEASON
L ady Victoria Ashworth had been saving the best role for herself, and London was definitely the grandest stage. As the most socially connected of the Widows, she had the contacts, the wardrobe, and the sheer audacity to make Lady Smalling the talk of the Season.
Victoria's interpretation of Lady Smalling was ambitious: a recently widowed countess with vast wealth, mysterious secrets, and a desperate need to remarry quickly for protection. It was a characterization guaranteed to set London society ablaze with gossip and speculation .
She began her campaign at Almack's, having secured vouchers through carefully placed hints to Lady Jersey about a "fascinating new widow with the most intriguing inheritance situation."
Victoria made her entrance on a Wednesday evening, perfectly timed to coincide with the arrival of several other prominent members of society. She wore deep mourning relieved only by the most magnificent diamonds anyone had seen outside the royal collection.
"Lady Smalling," announced the Master of Ceremonies, and every head in the room turned.
Victoria swept into the assembly rooms with the perfect combination of grief and grace, acknowledging introductions with a wan smile that suggested bravery in the face of overwhelming sorrow.
"Such a tragedy," she murmured to Lady Cowper during their introduction. "Robert was taken from me so suddenly. A carriage accident, though some suspect... well, one shouldn't speak ill of the dead or their enemies."
"Enemies?" Lady Cowper's eyes sharpened with interest.
"Government work, you understand. Robert served the Crown in... delicate matters... that made him rather unpopular with certain seditious elements." Victoria's voice dropped to a whisper. "There are those who believe his death was no accident."
Within an hour, half of London's social elite had heard that the mysterious Lady Smalling suspected her husband had been murdered by political enemies, possessed dangerous government secrets, and was therefore in need of immediate protection.
Victoria's stroke of genius was to position herself as a wealthy widow actively seeking remarriage for security rather than love.
"I know it seems rather cold-blooded," she confided to a group of ladies during tea the next afternoon, "but Robert always said that if anything happened to him, I should find another protector immediately. The secrets he carried... well, they didn't die with him."
"How thrilling!" gasped Lady Melbourne. "You mean you actually possess government intelligence?"
"I possess what Robert left me," Victoria said carefully.
"Documents, maps, correspondence... most of which I don't understand but which certain parties find quite interesting.
" She shuddered delicately. "I've already been approached by.
.. unsavory characters... seeking information about Irish activities. "
"How terrifying! But surely you could turn such materials over to the authorities?"
"Oh, I intend to," Victoria assured her, "but only to a husband I can trust completely. Robert made me promise never to let such dangerous information fall into the wrong hands. I need a man of unquestionable loyalty to the Crown."
The effect was immediate and dramatic. By evening, Victoria found herself surrounded by eager suitors who seemed less interested in her person than in her supposed access to government secrets.
But Victoria's masterpiece was her performance at the Duchess of Devonshire's ball.
She arrived fashionably late, wearing mourning attire that somehow managed to be both appropriate and stunning.
The diamonds she'd borrowed from Lady Joanna's collection caught the light magnificently, while her perfectly practiced expression of brave melancholy drew sympathetic glances from across the ballroom.
Victoria positioned herself strategically near the card tables, where conversation flowed as freely as the wine, and began dropping carefully calculated hints about her situation.
"I confess, I find myself quite overwhelmed by the responsibilities Robert left me," she told Lord Castlereagh during their introduction. "Managing multiple estates is challenging enough, but when some of those properties were used for... government purposes... well, it becomes rather complicated."
"Government purposes?"
"Safe houses, mostly. Places where... sensitive individuals.
.. could be sheltered during dangerous times.
" Victoria lowered her voice. "Robert's work brought him into contact with some rather unsavory characters—Irish revolutionaries, French spies, even some English traitors.
I'm told there are still people seeking what they believe he left behind. "
Lord Castlereagh's attention was now completely focused. "What sort of things did he leave behind?"
"Lists, mostly. Names, locations, financial records.
.." Victoria allowed her voice to tremble slightly.
"I don't understand half of it, but I'm told it's quite valuable to certain parties.
That's why I'm so eager to find a suitable husband—someone who could take charge of such dangerous materials. "
The conversation was overheard by half the ballroom, and Victoria spent the rest of the evening fielding inquiries from gentlemen who seemed remarkably interested in her "inheritance documents."
Her crowning achievement came when she was approached by not one but two suspicious characters during the same evening.
The first was clearly Irish—poorly disguised as a gentleman but with an accent he couldn't quite suppress. Victoria spotted him immediately and made sure to position herself where their conversation would be overheard by several prominent society members.
"Lady Smalling?" he asked, approaching during a break between dances.
"Yes?" Victoria's face immediately showed fear. "Though I wasn't expecting... that is, how do you know my name?"
"I represent certain parties interested in your late husband's work."
Victoria glanced around the ballroom, noting with satisfaction that Lord Alvanley and several other influential men were within earshot. "Please," she whispered, "not here. There are too many people watching."
"Perhaps we could step outside? "
"I... I suppose we must." Victoria allowed herself to be escorted toward the garden doors, making sure her apparent distress was noticed by the nearby guests.
Outside, Victoria played her role perfectly—the terrified widow who possessed dangerous secrets but was too frightened to know what to do with them.
"I don't understand why people keep approaching me," she said, her voice shaking. "I've told everyone—I have no intention of involving myself in Robert's former activities."
"But surely you have access to his records?"
"Of course I do, but they're safely locked away," Victoria said quickly. "Far too dangerous to keep in London. I've hidden them somewhere no one would think to look."
"Where?"
Victoria's eyes widened as if she'd said too much. "I... I shouldn't have... that is, Robert always said the fewer people who knew such things, the better."
She spent the next fifteen minutes convincing the man that she possessed valuable intelligence but kept it hidden in some remote location, had no intention of sharing it with anyone except a future husband, and was far too frightened to be of any immediate use to his cause.
The second suspicious character approached her just as she returned to the ballroom—this one clearly English but equally interested in her supposed documents.
Victoria went through a similar performance, establishing herself as a widow in possession of dangerous secrets but too terrified and confused to be easily manipulated.
By the end of the evening, half of London society believed Lady Smalling was a wealthy widow with access to government intelligence, while both Irish and English agents were convinced she possessed valuable information but kept it frustratingly out of reach.
Victoria's final masterstroke was her dramatic departure from London.
She arranged to be seen at the opera, the theater, and several fashionable parties over the next few days, each time dropping hints about her future plans that contradicted her previous statements.
"I'm considering retiring to the countryside," she told Lady Hertford at the opera. "Perhaps Yorkshire, or possibly the Lake District."
"I believe I'll travel to Bath for my health," she informed Lord Byron at a literary salon. "Though I may stop in Brighton first—the sea air is so restorative."
"Actually, I'm thinking of visiting Scotland," she confided to Lady Caroline Lamb at tea. "I have property there that requires my attention, though I'm not certain it's safe to travel so far from London's protection."
On her final morning in London, Victoria orchestrated a scene worthy of Drury Lane.
She appeared at her hotel in a state of apparent panic, demanding her carriage be prepared immediately and instructing her servants (hired actors, naturally) to pack with urgent haste.
"We must leave at once," she announced loudly enough for other guests to hear. "I've received word that... certain parties... have discovered my location. It's no longer safe to remain in London."
The hotel manager, thoroughly caught up in the drama, offered assistance. "Where shall we direct any inquiries about your whereabouts, my lady?"
"Tell anyone who asks that I've gone north," Victoria replied dramatically. "Though whether to Yorkshire, Scotland, or the Lake District, I cannot say. I shall decide on the road, depending on where I feel safest. "
As her carriage departed, Victoria could see both of her suspicious admirers frantically preparing to follow, no doubt comparing notes about which direction the mysterious Lady Smalling had actually taken.