“Thanks. An ale would hit the spot nicely,” Jake said.
He leaned against the balustrade, watching the bustle below as the gambling hell’s servants prepared for the coming night. It wasn’t longbefore Skippy returned with a jug and two tankards.
He must have noticed Jake was anxious, for he said, “I asked about this meeting your captain is attending. The word in the kitchen is that he isn’t Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s favorite for the lady. And she has a way of picking good matches and making certain they happen. So, if you’re worried about your position, you’re probably safe this time.”
He was pouring the ale as he spoke, and he passed one of the tankards to Jake. “Mind you, Jake, you should know that once Mrs. Dove-Lyon has her eye on a gent, his days as a single man are numbered. But if it is a good match, it should be better for you and the captain both.”
He leaned on the balustrade next to Jake and took a sip from his tankard. “Hey, I saw Corporal Jackson the other week. He’s back working with his brother as a butcher, and he has his Spanish wife and their daughter with him.”
They spent a pleasant half hour chatting about people they both knew from the army, and what they were doing now. Then a footman came to let Jake know his master was ready to leave, so Skippy and Jake shook hands, and Jake promised to look Skippy up next time he accompanied Captain Harraway to the Lyon’s Den.
“I’m generally on duty protecting the second-floor ladies,” Skippy confided as he showed Jake the passage that would take him back to where the captain was waiting. “There’d be no problem with you coming up for a gab, if you want.”
“I might just do that,” Jake promised. There was the captain, bumping his hat against his knee, a sure sign of impatience. “Good to see you, Skippy.”
“Likewise.”
Captain Harraway looked up at the sound of their voices and gave Jake a nod of greeting. “Well, Jake. You’ll be pleased, no doubt, to know that you are not to wish me happy.”
Not yet, at least. As he fell into step after his master, Jake resolved to keep a closer eye on the silly duffer from now on. Mindyou, Skippy had a point. The right woman—one who would give the captain purpose and direction—wouldn’t be a bad idea. Even if it did end with Jake out on his ear, with no place to go except the former home of the only woman he could imagine marrying.
Chapter Five
Carr Abbas, Ealing
Once Miss Ellenwas installed in one of the best bedrooms at Carr Abbas, she reminded Kat of her promise to explain her plan. Kat suggested that they both meet with Mrs. Kirby, the housekeeper.
“She has a crucial role in it, and it will be easier if I can explain to both of you at once.”
At Miss Ellen’s urging, they settled down in what had once been the mistress’s private sitting room. After all, Mrs. Kirby said, it could do the real owner of Carr Abbas no harm to have a guest he knew nothing about, and that guest might as well use the rooms and give the maids someone to clean up after.
Kat kept her own counsel while Miss Ellen poured the tea and Mrs. Kirby handed around the cakes. “Cook is so excited to have someone to bake for, my lady,” she explained. “I would hate to disappoint her by taking the plate back untouched.”
“I am not ‘my lady,’” Miss Ellen reminded the housekeeper.
“You are for my plan, my lady,” said Kat. “Mrs. Kirby and I will both address you that way in front of the other servants.”
“Tell me your plan,” said Miss Ellen, frowning. “It will not requireme to tell an untruth, will it? For I do not like the idea of lying.”
In the plan she hoped to follow, Kat was going to do all the lying. “Does failing to correct me when I say something untrue count as you lying, Miss Ellen? For if it does, my plan might not work. And I would really like to find you a fine husband. Preferably a rich one, but I’ll be happy with any decent gentleman with a comfortable income and a kind nature. Of course, we shall tell him the whole truth once he has met you and fallen in love with you.”
“Who would want to marry me?” asked Miss Ellen. “I think I need to know more about this plan of yours.”
And so, Kat explained the whole scope of it. The London matchmaker. The need for Miss Ellen to present the appearance of an eligible lady until the matchmaker found Miss Ellen a suitable gentleman. And Kat’s thoughts on convincing the matchmaker to find a match for Miss Ellen even though they could not meet the lady’s usual fee.
Kat intended to begin her campaign to win the London lady’s favor the very next day.
Which meant that tonight, she would need to set some traps in the woods of Carr Abbas. She had already sought and received permission from the land steward, who said that the new master was not hunting the coverts, and culling the game could do no harm and might do good. He had also agreed that the servant of the master’s guest might collect surplus squabs from the dove cote and unwanted vegetables and fruits from the garden and orchard.
Kat was all too ready to oblige.
Of course, both Miss Ellen and Mrs. Kirby had questions, comments, and objections, but in the end, they agreed to go along with Kat. After all, as Mrs. Kirby said, either it would work or it wouldn’t. If it didn’t work, it would cost Miss Ellen a coach fare or two, to and from London. But if it did, they would all be in clover.
The Lyon’s Den, London
“I am deliveringa gift to Mrs. Dove-Lyon from the Lady of Carr Abbas.” Kat used the deep voice she had adopted as part of her male persona as she spoke to the maid who answered the back door at the Lyon’s Den. It was her third visit, and this time the maid said, “Of course, Mr. Fivepenny. Please come in.” She led the way along the passage to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “What is it this time? Another brace of rabbits? More pheasants?”
“A hare and a half-dozen pigeon squabs,” Kat said, in the deep voice. Every week for the past three, she had hunted, trapped, gleaned, and brought what she found to the Lyon’s Den as a gift for its proprietor.
