“She does indeed,” Huntley murmured, taking her gloved hand, and pressing his lips to her shaking fingers.
“That’s enough, husband. Off to the card room with you.” Her voice was a quivering mess, but she managed a smile.
Huntley bowed over her hand. “Until later, my dear. Duchess.” Huntley strolled away, leaving Gabby momentarily enthralled.
“Well,” Rebecca said with a knowing glint in her eye. “You two seem to be on solid ground.”
Gabby blushed, blinking back the last of the moisture. “Er, yes, I suppose so.”
Rebecca linked arms with her, and they strolled towards the grand staircase.
“What is it, Gabby?” Rebecca asked her. “I vow, you look as if you are about to burst into tears.”
“I never cry.”
“Exactly my point,” Rebecca said gently.
Gabby didn’t feel strong enough to share the depths of her feelings in that moment. Even with Rebecca. But she just realized she hadn’t yet told her of her scheme regarding Bentick. “I have something to confess, Rebecca. Please, don’t be furious with me. Perhaps we should convene to the terrace. I vow, this gala is a crush.”
“I suppose it will be all right. I’m married this time around,” she teased.
Gabby winced, recalling that night seven years ago.
“I have a better place for us to talk so we’re not overheard.” Rebecca guided them up the stairs and, rather than going in the direction of the retiring room, she found them sanctity in a low-lit chamber—a library of some sort. Rebecca latched the door and faced her. “Did you tell Huntley of our grand scheme?”
“I took him to Hope Street this morning.”
Rebecca was silent for a minute. “He didn’t appear angry or, worse, condescending. England’s male population has never been too keen on helping those in need. Especially women. Especially, the women we are angling to assist. Even I haven’t gotten around to telling Sebastian the minute details.”
Gabby let out a small huff that could have been surprise, she wasn’t sure. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous? You?”
“No. I just want things more settled before I share with him the full scale of those who are landing on our doorstep.”
Gabby knew exactly how she felt.
Rebecca let out a breath. “So, he won’t try to stop us?”
“Huntley said he would help, and I believe him. She steadied her insides, garnering her courage. “There’s something else. I started to tell you a few nights ago, but we were interrupted.”
“Why do I get the feeling this will take me back to our days at Miss Greensley’s?”
“That’s not fair,” Gabby said without heat. She deserved that. “Well—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”
“I can only hope it’s not illegal.”
“Rebecca! Are you going to listen or not?”
“Certainly. What is it?”
“Mable Clark was raped. She’s only sixteen. I, um, extorted two hundred pounds from the nobleman who got her with child,” she said on a rush of breath.
Rebecca groaned. “Blackmail?”
“What else was I supposed to do? Besides, the bastard deserved it. He should have to pay,” she said fiercely.
“How did you do it?” Rather than sounding angry, even resigned, her voice conveyed the curiosity Gabby recalled from years ago.
Encouraged, she went on. “I sent him a note telling him that if he didn’t place the money in the Berkley Square gardens, there would be a congratulatory announcement made at the Faulk’s musicale several nights ago.”
