Ten minutes later, with the help of his valet, Oliver, he sunk into the copper tub full of steaming water and relaxing lavender and sage oil, another tip his mentor had taught him.
The hot water penetrated his muscles and pulled out a sigh of satisfaction. His eyes grew heavy-lidded as the soothing scent infused his nostrils and the oils loosened the knots in his back and legs. Resting his head on the rolled-up towel behind him, he grimaced at knowing that a brawler had taken this much out of him.
Long mornings at Gentleman Jacks loomed over him, but he knew it was too late to pull out of this competition.
“Pardon me, Your Grace,” Oliver Lane knocked and entered. “A young lad is here to see you. Says his name is Ralph.”
“Oh, Ralphie,” William rolled his neck and winced at the cracks. “An intrepid young man who vacillates between honest work and whatever is on the fringes of society that will pay him but not get him sent to Tyburn Tree. Show him in please, and order the maids to keep an eye on the silver.”
When the lad, not more than twelve or thirteen, came in, he was sporting a tailored jacket, waistcoat, and breeches, the suit he used to pickpocket on Mayfair Street. Looking like that, the urchin could pass for the son of a well-to-do family.
“What news do you have, Ralfie?”
“I thought ye’d give me a better job than following a dowdy fob around town an’ spy on his mail.” The lad’s top lip lifted in scorn. “Anyway, it seems that the guv had got ‘imself an invitation to a singalong at Almacks to meet a lady next week, Friday night.I suppose it’s the same genteel lady you told me to be on the lookout for.”
“And was she there?”
“Nah,” he shrugged, “Ne’er seen a lady nowhere.”
“And where did you get this information about the sing-a-long from, Ralfie?” William asked.
“From a scullery girl named Anna,” Ralfie’s grin was wolfish. “She’s sweet on me, ya’know.”
“I’d imagine,” William’s smile was wry. “When did you say this singalong is happening?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I’d ask Almack's that.”
“Anything else?” he asked the boy, “Or is extra information another penny?”
“Not this time,” Ralphie shrugged. “Y’eve been good to me mi’lord, so this is another tuppence of information with no fee attached. Anna told me the letter came from Lady Eleanor Pembroke’s estate.”
“I see,” William sat up. “Lane, give the lad a half-crown for his troubles and see him out.”
When the two left, William ruminated over what he had just been told. Lady Eleanor was an unassuming wallflower, sister to his friend Andrew, who lived alone and had the choice to marry or not, for her grandfather had left her a healthy inheritance. She was not the build nor the color of the lady he had kissed that night—if she were, Andrew would have his throat… so what was happening here?
“Well, the lad is off and the silver is safe,” Oliver said as he returned. “How are the muscles coming along and do I need to get some salve?”
“No, the water is working,” William replied.
“This Almack’s performance, Your Grace,” the valet asked. “Why are you attending when you despise those things?”
“The same reason Samson killed a thousand Philistines and why Jacob served fourteen years in indentured servitude for his two wives,” William replied. “A lady, of course.”
CHAPTER 9
“It shall be fine, Bridget,” Eleanor repeated for what felt like the tenth time. “Lord Hansen will be utterly charmed by your demeanor and brilliance, smitten by your appearance in your lovely gown, and if I were you, I would not be surprised if I had a marriage proposal by tonight.”
“You overestimate my charm, Ellie,” Bridget said.
It was a sennight after the masquerade and her first meeting with Lord Hansen. They were on the way to Almacks for a sing-along and she forced herself not to fiddle with her gloves.
Her peach dress trimmed with new pink ribbon and lace, and a matching pink underskirt, was another relic of the days she had graced many ballrooms and assemblies.
The streets of London were packed with carriages and pedestrians, and by the time they arrived at the assembly house, she was afraid they were terribly late.
To her relief, the moment they stepped onto the main floor, people were mingling with drinks in hand, casually in a chatter. Relief washed through her like a river breaking its banks.
Lord Hansen was not there and her heart sank with disappointment at this discovery—he’s not here yet, do not lose hope— when she saw another familiar face, and this one far less welcome. In the midst of the crowd of gentlemen of worthy townsfolk stood the one man she had hoped never to run into again.
