“I’m in so much trouble,” Hannah wailed, covering her face with her hands. “They’ll never let me go anywhere fun again. I’ll be trapped in stuffy old ball jail.”
“Wait.” Jane held up a hand to stop Eli from opening the door. “What if she weren’t gambling?” She might let the siblings facetheir father alone and pray their punishment wouldn’t be audible to the ladies sitting in the drawing room, but that seemed a cold fate. Besides, there was no guarantee Mr. Williams wouldn’t pound on the knocker and hold her and Della to account. The man had a temper. “We’ll let him walk in on us doing something perfectly acceptable, and Hannah won’t be in any trouble.”
The girl would still have to explain to her parents why she wasn’t at her friend’s house, but she could sort that out afterward. At least Jane could offer what help she was able.
“My quilting supplies!” Della exclaimed. “I’ll bring them down. Hannah and Jane, you go prepare the others. Eli, tell my butler to stall your father. Don’t worry, he’s an old hand. You can hide in the kitchens until he goes, and we’ll pretend you were never here. Hurry everyone!”
Della was gone in a flash, raising her skirts to leap up the stairs two-by-two. Jane barely had time to exchange a look with Eli before she darted back to the drawing room with Hannah. It was all done in the span of two minutes, Jane explaining the threat of discovery quickly as Della handed out scraps of fabric to cover evidence of card play. The ladies rose to the occasion without complaint; several of them had endured the trials of an overbearing father or husband, and Hannah provoked sympathy as the youngest in their number.
“There aren’t enough!” whispered Mrs. Duff, as the last of the fabric went to the lady beside her. A knock sounded at the door, and they all listened to the footsteps of the butler.
“Don’t worry,” Della said. “I brought a few odds and ends in case we needed them.” Without missing a beat, she produced a half-finished watercolor for Mrs. Duff, followed by a sheet of pressed fern fonds for Miss Anwar. “There, now. All set.”
She took her seat with a serenity Jane envied. Clearly, theirsubterfuge was nothing remarkable for Della. “Everyone talk about something,” she hissed. “Act natural.”
They managed a few hasty words, and then Mr. Williams was upon them, bursting through the door with the promise of fire and brimstone in his eyes. He had his mouth open to speak, but froze as he took in the sight.
“Oh, Mr. Williams,” Jane exclaimed, feigning surprise as she rose to her feet. “How good to see you up and about. Hannah told us you were feeling under the weather.”
He blinked, having obviously forgotten all about this in his haste to catch his daughter. “I—er…yes, Miss Bishop. Much better.” After a beat, he added quickly. “Though I think I might take ill again soon. It, uh…it comes and goes.”
“What are you doing here, Papa?” Hannah asked. She’d put on a wide-eyed expression, and had actually run a needle through the fabric before her, working on a seam as she spoke. She was the only one in the room who’d thought to do so. Hopefully Mr. Williams wouldn’t notice.
“I—but I thought this was a gambling club?” He was red in the face as he looked about the room, the color holding steadfast as chagrin replaced anger.
“A gambling club?” Della laughed. A few of the ladies joined her, though none quite matched her talent for acting. “Of course not, Mr. Williams. This is a quilting circle, as you can see.”
“But…” He was quite confused by now, his wrath entirely gone. “But I thought Miss Bishop admitted it. That you…” He trailed off again, squinting at the sight before him.
“We play cards onTuesdays,” Della supplied. “Though I would hardly call it gambling. More like a friendly match. Mondays are quilting.” Seeing Mr. Williams’s gaze alight on Mrs. Duff, she added, without missing a beat, “And watercolors. We find they complement each other well.”
“I see.” Mr. Williams cleared his throat. “But you told your mother you’d be at Miss Parker’s house this evening, Hannah.”
“I’msureI said I was going to Miss Danby’s,” she replied. “Mama must have misheard me.”
A tense silence followed, in which Mr. Williams seemed to debate whether he would press the argument in front of an audience. Propriety finally won out. “In that case, I—I’m sorry to have intruded. I’ll see you back at the house.”
No one dared to breathe until they’d heard his steps retreat down the hall and the door shut firmly in place behind him, then they all erupted in breathless whispering.
“Did you see how confused he was?” Miss Anwar laughed. “Poor fellow! We’d make excellent spies.”
Jane was already leaving their congratulations behind, hurrying out the door to find Eli. But there was no sign of him in the kitchens, where Della had told him to hide.
“The lieutenant has already left, Miss Bishop,” the butler explained, finding her staring at the empty butcher block as though it held the answer to her questions. “He said he didn’t want to intrude any longer.”
Jane’s breath escaped her in a sigh. Thanks to Eli, her club was out of danger—but what about him? Not even the prospect of the twenty-pound bet still waiting for her on the table beneath a heap of quilting fabric could distract her from that.
Twenty-Three
“A caller at the door for you, sir.” Cuttle made the announcement with the same look of disdain he’d been wearing since Eli had brought his guest home four days ago.
He and Geórgios were in the guest bedroom at the furthest possible corner of the house from the rest of the family, plotting Geórgios’s escape from England. Or rather, Eli was plotting. Geórgios was squinting at a book entitledA Discerning Gentleman’s Guide to London, selecting places he absolutely had to visit before he left.
It had been a trying week.
“What do they mean here, when they say ‘house of ill-fame’?” Geórgios asked in a booming voice more suited to a busy ship than a tiny bedroom. “Is that a bordello?”
“Do you remember our little talk about not going out in public?” Eli replied before turning to the butler. “Cuttle, could you please tell them we aren’t receiving callers?” They’d been over this.
