No sooner had the maid shut the door than Eliza flung back the bed coverings and found her darkest dress. She rushed back into her corset and petticoats before managing the buttons on the gown. The purple cotton was dip-dyed black at the bottom. The unusual styling had intrigued Eliza at the milliner’s. Herhair was more challenging. She was forced to settle for a simple knot at the back of her neck.
A quick glance in the mirror revealed something new. The girl reflected was bright-eyed, with a becoming flush and parted lips. Her hair was slipping from the chignon in a riot of wild curls—shewasbeautiful. This was the girl Benedict saw when he looked at her.
Her path down the stairs and through the garden was precarious with much of the household still awake. She escaped with only one close call, hiding in a closet as May walked past with the laundry.
When she stepped into the darkened yard, heart racing, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. Then she slipped through the gate and found an unfamiliar hack awaiting her.
The inside was empty, save for Lady Arabella, clad in a burnt-copper gown with a neckline that would have made Eliza blush to wear. A mossy green velvet ribbon accentuated the lady’s waist.
“I take it there was no trouble?” she asked.
“None,” Eliza said, shaking off her awe of the older woman. “Did you encounter any?”
“I employ a companion for appearances when I feel it necessary. In general, though, I do what I wish.”
“Your family has no objections?”
“My mother might have objected were she alive. Father’s interests are very… specific.”
Eliza’s eyes widened, apologies tripping over each other on the tip of her tongue. Instead she murmured, “I knew about your mother. It was a thoughtless question. I am sorry for your loss.”
Lady Arabella’s brow lifted in surprise. “Benedict told you? He does not speak of her. I believe he worries that losing Mother has left me damaged—that my jaded disinterest in matrimony is owed to the lack of her influence. I cannot convince him that themale species itself is the reason I am jaded and disinterested. Uninspiring dullards, the lot of them.”
“Save your brother,” Eliza offered.
“Oh, I am very much including him with the rest. That he is fighting tonight instead of twirling you about the dance floor is evidence enough. But I give you leave to like him if you must. There are worse choices to be had.”
Eliza rather thought there were no better choices to be had. Before she could reply, the carriage stopped outside an unassuming tavern. Two windows abutted the small double doors. Gold accents topped the false columns between each window. Inside, the warm glow of numerous candles brightened and ebbed with people bustling about.
Behind her, Lady Arabella paid the driver.
“Thank you. I didn’t…”
“Bring any money? I assumed. Tonight’s indulgences are mine—or more likely Bennie’s.”
A smile curled up at the corner of Eliza’s lips. “He said you call him that.”
“Yes, if you’d like to see him turn the most intriguing shade of red, be sure to use it. Now, when we go inside, stick close to me or Ben. And for heaven’s sake, do not tell anyone your real name. We don’t want this getting back to your father.”
A breathless nod was all Eliza felt capable of. Worry threatened to overtake her. She had never been less prepared for anything. Before she could find the words to express that sentiment, Lady Arabella grabbed her hand and shoved it into the crook of her elbow.
Instead of using the front entrance, Lady Arabella brought her around the corner to a different, unadorned door. “Ladies entrance,” she said as she turned the knob.
The bar occupied one wall, with tables lining the other. The tavern was packed tight. Most patrons were male; however, a few ladies sipped drinks among them.
Eliza wasn’t a stranger to such society—she spent enough time at her father’s club. But Wayland’s catered to those with more money than sense. As such, they made it a point to display the trappings of wealth.
“Would you like a drink?” Lady Arabella whispered in her ear.
Eliza had anticipated nothing about tonight, and she never imagined adding alcohol to her adventure. But the appeal was overwhelming. And the saying was, when in Rome…
“Bonnie Barrel, please?”
Lady Arabella raised a brow at her whiskey selection but made no comment. She strode toward the bar, leaving Eliza to trail along after her. The woman’s sharp, ornate silver hairpin flashed hotly in the firelight. She ordered two glasses and then, instead of reaching for her reticule, she turned to a gentleman seated on a stool abutting the bar. He was short, with light hair, freckles, and an amiable smile.
Eliza could only describe what Lady Arabella delivered as alook. He raised a hand to the barkeep. “Another round, and whatever these two lovely ladies would like.”
Her companion made small talk with the man while Eliza fretted. Did they have to spend time with him now? And where was the fight? Surely there wasn’t enough room in here.
