“Nevertheless, I will do so.” His eyes were so very dark tonight; the grey of the moon shrouded in clouds. “After all, we are in love.”
A single tear broke free and Theo scrubbed it away, hating Nathanial for hurting her; hating herself for caring. When the dance ended, Nathanial took that same hand in both of his, fingers warm, thumb soothing as he brought her knuckles to his lips. When he released her, a frown lowering his brows, he opened his mouth as if to say something, but Theo cupped her hand against her chest and fled, leaving him standing motionless in the centre of the room.
Chapter Seventeen
Juliet Stanton was not a woman who lacked connections, and her acquaintance was varied in its depth and breadth. Largely, she consorted with theton, or those who would tolerate and accept her presence, but when occasion demanded, she had many friends who came from the torrid and muddy gutters of the East End.
The man who stood before her now was a member of that society, and his grimy boots had left marks across her carpets. His voluminous overcoat was shabby, patched in places, and the hair that fell over his forehead was lank and greasy. She’d already had opportunity to note his fingernails were ingrained with dirt.
“Well?” she asked, every inch the indolent lady. Her dress, as she ensured, was both expensive and provocative, and she lounged across her sofa with careless grace. Just in case this man didn’t know who he was dealing with. “Do you have it?”
“I do, m’lady,” he said, his cap clutched between his hands. His gaze slid across the rich furnishings of her drawing room, but although he behaved with every obsequiousness, he didn’tseem intimidated by the wealth she had taken such pains to display.
Juliet motioned to a small walnut table inlaid with gold. “Place it there.”
“And my payment?”
She dangled a small bag between her fingers, allowing it to chink. “I have it here.”
In response, the man reached into his large pockets and withdrew a small vial, placing it on the table. “Three drops is all you need,” he said. “More than do the trick.”
“Very well.” Juliet eyed the clear liquid with suspicion, but tossed the bag across. “No word of this to anyone, you understand?”
“No, m’lady.”
She didn’t bother correcting his mistake. If he thought her a lady, all the better; he may never be able to identify her if this ever came out.
Not that it would, of course. If there was one thing she had learnt since becoming widowed, it was how to be discreet.
“Take the money and go,” she said.
The man needed no further encouragement.
Chapter Eighteen
After Mrs Selfridge’s ball, and as the Season was coming to a close, thetonfell into a slump that only a picnic on the bank of the river Thames could assuage. Lady Tabitha and Lord Thorpe conceived the happy scheme, and in the space of a week, the idea had grown enough that half of London’s society vowed to join. By the time Theo arrived with Nathanial, the elected picnic spot was crowded and busy.
“Duchess!” Lady Tabitha said in excitement, and Nathanial took that opportunity to drop her arm. “Howdelightfulyou could join us. And Your Grace! I’m so glad to see you both.”
Nathanial gave her a brief bow, murmured pleasantries, and at the beckoning of one of his friends, left them. Lady Tabitha tucked her arm through Theo’s. “Now, my dear,” she chattered, “let us see who is in attendance. I declare it’s so very warm!”
It was an unseasonably hot July day, and Theo found herself wishing she had stayed home. Keeping up this endless charade was exhausting; as Duchess, she was often one of the most highly ranked people in any room; everyone vied for herattention, her good will, her favour. And everyone watched her eagerly, waiting for a mistake. A woman’s reputation was a fragile thing, long cultivated and easily broken. It would take very little to cut the strings by which it was attached. A mistake like she had made at the masquerade, an indiscretion that was made public, and it would all come tumbling down.
“Sir Montague!” Lady Tabitha trilled, dragging Theo across to where Sir Montague stood. “How wonderful to have found you here! I declare, I had not expected you to come.”
If Tabitha was looking for a husband here, Theo could have told her she was wasting her time.Something great would have to induce me into matrimony. That something great was unlikely to be Tabitha and her modest fortune.
Sir Montague raised a brow. “Indeed?”
“Oh, well, yes.” Tabitha batted her eyelashes at him in what Theo suspected was supposed to be coquettishness. “Does not the water look especially warm today?”
Theo glanced at the silvery water of the Thames, which in her opinion didnotlook warm, and wondered how, when she felt so wretched, the sun could keep smiling.
Sir Montague’s gaze was on her, and his dark brows drew together. “You are hot, Duchess,” he said.
Lady Tabitha snapped open her fan and turned it on Theo with such force, her eyes watered. “Is this better?” she asked solicitously.
As had happened frequently of late, Theo wished to go home. “I’m perfectly well.”
