“Like the Black Death. Or,” Lucy added mischievously, “should that be the Puce Plague?”
Chapter Fourteen
Dammit, where was Heffernan? Gerald scanned the street for the dozenth time. He’d instructed Heffernan to be on hand outside Aunt Alice’s house, keeping a discreet lookout for Bamber. But there was no sign of the man.
Gerald had put the betrothal notice in several papers, not just the most popular ones, so Bamber would be sure to see it. Heffernan was supposed to be here, ready to catch Bamber when he came. Two possibilities had occurred to Gerald: either Bamber would give Aunt Alice her letters back and disappear from her life as agreed, or he’d decide he wanted more from her, blackmailers being notorious for wanting more. And if that were the case, Gerald, with Heffernan’s aid, would pounce on the blackguard and force him to give up the letters.
So where was Heffernan?
A hawker had set up farther down the street, roasting nuts over a portable brazier. Gerald’s stomach rumbled. He’d missed breakfast, and the smell was enticing. He gave the street another sweeping glance, then hurried down and ordered some roasted almonds.
The hawker filled a cone of newspaper with hot nuts and handed them to Gerald. “No sign of him yet, m’lord.”
Gerald nearly dropped the nuts. “Good God, it’s you.” Heffernan looked nothing like himself. He looked shorter, fatter, grayer and hairier, not to mention scruffier.
“Don’t be talking to me now, m’lord. Just take yourself off, casual-like. I have three men watching for Bamber. Don’t worry. If he shows up, we’ll get ’im.”
“Three men?” Gerald could see no sign of them.
“Aye. All Radcliffe’s men, so leave it all to us. There’s no tellin’ when Bamber will show—could take him all day. Might even be tomorrow, or later, depending on where he’s been hiding himself. The minute he shows, we’ll let you know. That lad over there, the one sweeping the street, he’s my runner. He’ll bring you any news quick as a flash.”
Munching on the hot nuts, Gerald walked away. It went against the grain for him to leave the scene, but Heffernan was right—there was no telling how long Bamber would take to get here. And he couldn’t very well turn up at Aunt Alice’s house at this hour and then hang around all day without an excuse—because who knew when Bamber would come? Even a newly betrothed man couldn’t get away with that.
And Alice wasn’t to know that the betrothal was a ruse.
A newly betrothed man. He was betrothed to Lucy Bamber.
He smiled to himself. In her own way, Lucy was as elusive as her father. Not that there was any comparison.
* * *
* * *
Lucy and Alice had just finished breakfast and had taken a pot of tea into the drawing room when the front doorbell jangled.
“That’ll be her. Are you sure you don’t want to go out into the garden?” Alice asked Lucy for the third time. The fact that she was obviously dreading the encounter made Lucy feel even warmer toward her.
Lucy laughed. “Not in the least. Are you sure you won’t let me deal with her by myself? I’m quite happy to.” In fact she would prefer to, but Alice was determined to stay and protect her.
Moments later Almeria, Countess of Charlton, swept into the room and came to an abrupt stop. She shot a vitriolic glance at Lucy. “You!” she said in a voice of loathing.
Lucy curtsied. “Good morning, Lady Charlton,” she said in a cheery voice. “What a vision you are—fifty shades of puce?”
Alice hurriedly rose, saying, “Almeria, what a surprise.”
“Hah! Surprise indeed. What do you have to say for yourself, eh? Eh?” She glared at Alice.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Alice asked and, without waiting for an answer, rang for Tweed—who appeared so quickly he must have been listening at the door—and ordered fresh tea.
“Tea!” Almeria said with loathing, seating herself in a flurry of silk and velvet. “This is not the time for tea.”
“Coffee then for Lady Charlton please, Tweed,” Alice said and returned to her place on the sofa.
“I want nothing! No. Refreshments. Whatsoever!”
Lucy hid a smile. Alice wasn’t doing it deliberately but her attempt at soothing the savage breast—or was it a savage beast? Beastess?—was having the opposite effect.
“Well?” Almeria snapped the instant Tweed had departed. “Explain yourself, Alice. I told you most specifically that I did not wish my son to become acquainted with this . . . this . . . creature.” She waved a disdainful hand in Lucy’s direction.
A “creature,” was she? Any intention Lucy had of being polite and conciliatory flew out the window.
“ ‘Creature’?” Lucy looked ostentatiously around. “Oh, you mean me? Of course you do. But you mustn’t blame Alice. She was as surprised as you were.”
Almeria turned a baleful glare on her. “Surprised is not the word.”
“Delighted?” Lucy prompted brightly. “Thrilled? Jubilant?”
“I am appalled! I don’t know how you managed to convince my son—”
“Oh, there was no convincing necessary. Not at all. In fact, it was all his idea.”
Almeria’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know how you entrapped my son into this appalling mésalliance but—”
“ ‘Entrapped’?” Lucy interrupted. “Have you not spoken to Gerald then?”
Aleria’s lips thinned. “He was not in his lodgings this morning. No doubt hiding from the consequences of his rash act.”
“Or from his dear mama,” Lucy said sweetly.
Almeria’s eyes flashed. “Are you calling my son a coward?”
“You were the one who said he was hiding,” Lucy pointed out. “I wouldn’t have thought it myself, but—”
“I don’t know how he was convinced to wed the likes of you, but I intend to put a stop to it.”
Lucy tried to look concerned. “Is your son so weak-willed then?”
“ ‘Weak-willed’?” Ice dripped from every syllable.
“To be so easily controlled by his mother. I confess I am surprised, especially considering how heroically he served his country, commanding I don’t know how many troops and serving with distinction for—how many years was he away at war fighting the Corsican Monster, Alice?”
“Eight,” said Alice.