She absorbed that. Her full, deep rose lips mouthed the word.
She stood, which brought her close to him. Her crown reached his nose. Yes, she was unusually tall. The scents of Newgate no longer cloaked her. Rather that of lavender wafted subtly, as if by force of will she had conquered the ill effects of the day. Since the glint in her eyes no longer came from tears, he guessed she had, in many ways.
She strolled away, thinking. She moved with notable elegance and a subtle sway. She wore her unusual stature the way a queen might wear a crown.
She turned and faced him. He pictured her in a white diaphanous gown that flowed down her long body, one bound under and around her breasts in imitation of the ancient deities. Only, from the expression she now wore, she might also wear a helmet and shield, like Athena, goddess of both wisdom and war.
“This is awkward,” she said. “However, it is not without value to speak with you.”
“Since I have not even seen the brief, there is nothing to learn from me.”
“It is always useful to meet one’s adversary. Had I not made the error in coming here, I doubt I would have had the chance. I would have arrived at the trial, with you a total stranger.”
“I am not your adversary, Miss Belvoir. You are not the one who will be on trial.”
“We will have opposite goals, so I think the word is accurate.”
“I am sure you will find a worthy lawyer to take up this case for you, as you intended.”
“Having met you, I am not sure I will find one worthy enough. I dare not leave it all in another’s hands now.”
Her gaze penetrated him. He had the sense of his soul being searched by an intelligence as sharp as any he had ever met. Whatever she found, it lightened her expression. Softened her. The unusual beauty that had drawn him into this chamber became much more visible. The sparkles in her eyes implied humorous conclusions.
He knew what she had seen. An acknowledgment of it passed between them in an instant of naked honesty. Hell, yes, she was sharp. He had been nothing but restrained. A bishop could not have hidden his sensual speculations better, but she had still sensed them in him.
She turned those eyes on him fully. Ives recognizedthe expression of someone about to offer a bribe. A few had come his way in the past. He waited for hers.
Resolve flickered. Boldness flashed. Then, in the next moment, both died.
“I am sorry to have taken your time, and at an unsuitable hour at that. I will leave you to your evening.” She walked toward the door.
“I will find out about the charges,” he said. “That way you will know what he faces, at least. Leave your address with my man, and I will make sure you are informed.”
She turned. “Thank you. That is very kind, coming from someone I must now see as an enemy.”
“I am only an enemy if the truth is, as well.”
That amused her. “Noble words to soothe the helpless woman’s fears, sir? That is generous of you. However, truth depends on the equation, too, doesn’t it? Different variables yield different solutions.”
CHAPTER2
By the time Padua slipped through the garden behind the house on Frith Street, the last of dusk’s light showed. High-pitched voices leaked from the building’s second storey, where the girls ate their supper. If she moved quickly enough, she could take her own chair in the dining room without attracting much notice. If she were very lucky, Mrs. Ludlow would be none the wiser about Padua’s activities today.
She did not fear Mrs. Ludlow, the gentlewoman who owned this building and school, and in whose hands rested her ability to support herself. Generous to a fault, and as warm as a mother, Mrs. Ludlow suffered from a level of absentmindedness that made her quite benign. Learning one of her teachers had left theproperty would distress her, however, and Padua did not want to do that.
She checked the garden door, and was relieved to find it still unlocked. She strode through the back sitting room, removing her spencer while she walked. She rolled it up and tucked it behind a chair in the reception hall before mounting the stairs.
Assuming an expression of confidence, she entered the drawing room that now served as the dining room for Mrs. Ludlow’s School for Girls. She made her way to the head table and slid into her chair. She drew no particular attention from the others already into their meals. Only Caroline Peabody’s gaze followed her conspicuously, first with a little frown, then with visible relief. Caroline was one of three girls Padua tutored in higher mathematics. Those lessons were not part of the curriculum, and took place late at night after Mrs. Ludlow retired.
She enjoyed the extra work, because it meant these girls could discover what their minds could achieve. She found contentment in doing for them what her mother had done for her. The pay at this school might be low, but it was a respectable living, one for which she held excellent qualifications. The employment also permitted her to squirrel away some money for the plans she had.
“Miss Belvoir.” Mrs. Ludlow’s address drifted down the table, past the other teachers. “Please join me in my chambers after dinner. I would like a word with you.”
Padua finished her meal while the room emptied. She then made her way to Mrs. Ludlow’s chambers. The door to the sitting room stood open, as it usually did in the evening. Once she entered, however, Mrs. Ludlow closed it.
Padua loved the sitting room. Small and tidy, its upholstered chairs and patterned carpet created a cozy den. She and Mrs. Ludlow sat near a low fire, in two of those comfortable chairs, with a small table between them. On the table sat a tiny glass of sherry, which Mrs. Ludlow indulged in “for her health.” The chair, of decent size for a person of Padua’s height, almost swallowed short, plump Mrs. Ludlow. If not for a footstool, her feet would have dangled.
Fifty and filmy-eyed, with a cloud of fair hair that resisted taming, Mrs. Ludlow forever appeared perplexed. Indeed, the world confounded her on a regular basis. She lacked constancy as a result, which Padua at times found exasperating, but often also found useful. The school had many rules, as schools do, but Mrs. Ludlow could be swayed by tears or promises from the girls, or threats from the parents upon whom her fees depended. Or logical persuasion from her teacher, Padua Belvoir.
