A commotion near the entrance drew their attention. He heard a burst of feminine laughter, followed by the slamming of a door. A stunningly beautiful young woman with flaming red hair and a gorgeous smile, swept into the parlor.
“Kitty!” Mrs. Bellamy called. “What a lovely surprise. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were entertaining,” Kitty said. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
Mrs. Bellamy’s smile lacked substance. “Yes, well, I am unhappy that I’ve lost you, but I suspected that would eventually happen for a young woman with your looks and demeanor.” She turned to the baron. “Kitty has managed to become the mistress of a man of quite significant social standing.”
“Ah, the aspirations of whores.”
Mrs. Bellamy frowned at his rude comment. “Pardon the baron’s demeanor. Baron Lockwood could use some cheering. His lordship’s had a trying week. Lord Furoe returning from Ireland has disrupted his plans.”
Kitty kept her professional smile firmly in place.
Lockwood barely acknowledged her, still lost in his brooding. “The worst of it is, he’s brought a child with him. Thank God it’s not a son and heir to solidify his position.”
Mrs. Bellamy asked, “A daughter is no threat to your plans?”
“Of course not.” He shook his head. “A man wounded in the Irish Rebellion, with no memory of his past life, finds love. How ridiculous. Apparently, he married while in Ireland. The daughter is, what, four years old now? Ava-Marie, I believe they call her.”
Kitty’s eyebrows shot up at the name, and she exchanged a quick glance with Mrs. Bellamy.
“Do you know something, Kitty? Kitty is from Ireland,” Mrs. Bellamy explained.
“Ava-Marie?” Kitty repeated, her voice suddenly devoid of its practiced seduction. “And you say he came from Ireland? Where?”
“How the devil should I know?” Lockwood snapped, irritated by her questions. “Some village or other. What does it matter?”
“Malahide, perhaps?” Kitty persisted, earning a warning look from Mrs. Bellamy.
Lockwood’s attention sharpened. “Yes, I believe that was mentioned. Malahide.” His eyes narrowed. “What do you know of it?”
Kitty hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Bellamy, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I might know something, my lord,” Kitty said carefully. “About an Ava who lived near Malahide.”
Lockwood sat up straighter, suddenly alert. “Go on.”
“She was a friend, you see. Worked with me before I came to London.” Kitty twisted her hands in her lap. “We were close, for a time. She hated the life, always talking about finding a way out, a respectable life.”
“And did she?” Lockwood asked, leaning forward.
“So, the story goes.” Kitty lowered her voice, though there was no one nearby to overhear. “Word came back that she’d found herself a gentleman. Injured, he was, with no memory of who he really was. She nursed him back to health; told him he was her husband.”
Lockwood’s glass froze halfway to his lips. “No memory, you say?”
“None at all, according to what we heard. Head injury from the rebellion, they said. Found him half-dead in the street right outside our place of business.” Kitty shrugged. “Ava always was clever. She saw her opportunity and took it. Set herself up as his wife, moved them both to a little cottage near Malahide.”
“And the child? This Ava-Marie?”
“Could be hers, I suppose.” Kitty frowned. “You say the girl is four? The timing works.”
Lockwood’s mind raced, calculating possibilities. “Perhaps she was already with child when she found him. Or shortly after.” His lips curled in a predatory smile. “This is…most interesting.”
“Now see here,” Mrs. Bellamy cut in, her tone sharp. “Kitty’s just repeating gossip. We don’t know if it’s the same man or the same Ava.”
“But it could be,” Lockwood insisted. “An amnesiac gentleman, found after the Irish Rebellion, nursed back to health by a woman named Ava, moving to Malahide with a child named Ava-Marie… The coincidence would be extraordinary.”
“Even if it is the same man,” Mrs. Bellamy said carefully, “what of it? He’s returned to his family now.”
