A sharp knock at the front door echoed through the quiet house, followed by Phillips’ muffled voice in conversation with a visitor. Lucien frowned. It was well past the hour for social calls, and he wasn’t expecting anyone.
The study door opened without announcement, and Phillips appeared, his usually impassive face betraying a hint of discomfort.
“My lord, there is a…woman who insists on seeing you immediately. A Mrs. Bellamy. I informed her of the late hour, but she claims the matter is most urgent.”
“Mrs. Bellamy?” Lucien repeated, the name unfamiliar. “Did she state her business?”
“She said it concerns Baron Lockwood and Lady Courtney, my lord.” Phillips lowered his voice. “She appears to be of…questionable character.”
Lucien straightened, alarm flaring at the mention of Courtney’s name. “Show her in.”
Phillips hesitated only briefly before bowing and withdrawing. Moments later, an elegant woman swept into the study, her bearing refined despite the late hour. She was perhaps fifty years of age, with silver threading through dark hair that was still lustrous and expertly arranged. Her dress of deep burgundy silk was tasteful and well-made, speaking of prosperity rather than ostentation. Though time had softened her features, the bones of striking beauty remained evident in her high cheekbones and graceful neck. Her shrewd, intelligent eyes held the wisdom of a woman who had seen much of the world—and learned to navigate its darker corners with both dignity and pragmatism.
“Lord Furoe,” she said, executing a curtsy that managed to be both practiced and inappropriate. “I appreciate you receiving me at this unconventional hour.”
Lucien remained standing, making no move to offer her a seat. “You mentioned Baron Lockwood and Lady Courtney. Explain yourself.”
Mrs. Bellamy gave a knowing smile. “Direct, aren’t you? I heard you were different since returning from Ireland. I remember you as a young man. You visited my house often. You were very skilled at playing the game of social niceties.” She glanced meaningfully at the chair opposite his. “This conversation might be better conducted sitting down. Shall we?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Lucien gestured toward the chair. “Speak plainly, Mrs. Bellamy. Who are you, and what connection do you have to Baron Lockwood?”
She settled herself with grace, arranging her skirts before fixing him with a calculating stare. “I run a business—a rather substantial business. The baron, as have most of London’s upper classes, has been a patron for many years.”
“A brothel,” Lucien stated flatly.
“I prefer ‘house of pleasure’,” she corrected, unruffled. “But yes. And in my line of work, information is as valuable as the services we provide.” She leaned forward. “Baron Lockwood has been gathering information about you, my lord. About your time in Ireland.”
Ice formed in Lucien’s veins. “Go on.”
“Through one of my girls, Kitty, he learned certain details about a woman named Ava.” Mrs. Bellamy’s eyes never left his face, watching for his reaction. “Kitty knew her in Dublin, before she relocated to Malahide with a gentleman suffering from memory loss.”
Lucien’s hands tightened on his glass. “And what exactly does Lockwood intend to do with this information?”
“He plans to ruin you,” Mrs. Bellamy said bluntly. “Or rather, to blackmail Lady Courtney into breaking her engagement to you and marrying him instead.”
The glass nearly shattered in Lucien’s grip. “What?”
“He visited Lady Courtney yesterday morning, revealed what he knows about your…unconventional arrangement with Ava, and demanded she accept his proposal or watch as your daughter is branded illegitimate and your family name dragged through the mud.”
Lucien set his glass down carefully, afraid he might crush it in his mounting rage. “That’s impossible. Courtney would have told me immediately.”
Mrs. Bellamy’s laugh held no humor. “Would she? When Lockwood threatened to expose your secret the moment she warned you? When he made it clear that your sisters’ prospects and your daughter’s future would be destroyed if she didn’t comply?” She shook her head. “No, my lord. Lady Courtney is protecting you, as women often must protect the men they love.”
The realization hit him like a physical blow. Courtney’s sudden headache, her canceled dinner engagement—she wasn’t tired from travel. She could be buying time, trying to handle Lockwood’s threats alone rather than risk him doing something foolish.
“Why are you telling me this?” Lucien demanded, suspicion cutting through his shock. “What’s your stake in this affair?”
Mrs. Bellamy’s expression hardened. “Lockwood promised me a percentage of Lady Courtney’s dowry for the information my girl provided. A substantial sum that would have allowed me to retire from my current profession. Instead, through my contacts in Rotton Row, I’ve discovered he intends to cheat me out of my fair share.”
“So, this is about money,” Lucien said, disgust evident in his voice.
“Isn’t everything?” she countered. “I’ve spent twenty years in a business where I’m scorned by the very men who seek my services. I’ve earned my retirement.”
“And you expect me to pay you instead?”
Mrs. Bellamy shrugged. “I’m a businesswoman, my lord. I’m offering you valuable information in exchange for compensation.”
Lucien crossed to the window, staring out at the darkened garden as he gathered his thoughts. “What exactly does Lockwood know? How detailed is his information?”
