Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection

“Tigers are for show, unless one employs an aging pugilist, and they don’t look all that well in livery. Harry and his livery wouldn’t last a moment in this neighborhood. You failed to tell me, Miss Foster. Do you possess any other talents save pickpocketing?”

She brought herself back from her new, unexpected curiosity concerning All Things Cooper. “That’s not fair. The chapbook was mine. I was only retrieving it. What sort of talents?”

“Playacting. I’ve every hope you’ll have no problem with a bit of fibbing.”

Dany tipped up her chin. “I may have found the need in the past, yes. A fib is often more kind than the truth. Especially when one’s mother asks unfortunate questions.”

“Very good. Steadfast and upright honesty would do us no good at the moment.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we remove ourselves from the sight of passersby?”

Oh, we most certainly shall, Dany thought, quickly understanding that she should not be where she was, certainly not with him. They were in the process of being clandestine. What a lovely word—clandestine. How could she have, even for a moment, thought the baron was a sobersides? What fun!

“This chapel is no longer in use except for occasional weddings, but the frescoes are said to be in remarkably good repair. Aunt Mildred said we should not fail to see them before leaving London.”

Aunt Mildred? Ah, so the fibbing had begun.

“Then how bad of you, for not telling me to bring my sketching pad. You always were a bit of a loose screw, Cousin Mortimer. Just for that, I believe I’ll insist in inspecting every single fresco in some detail, and you’ll be stuck chaperoning me for at least another hour before you can cry off and go chasing down your highly unsuitable friends.”

Bless the baron’s heroic heart. He winked at her! She’d get him to understand she would be more of a help than a hindrance.

They mounted the six steps to a pair of heavily carved wooden doors, pausing only as Cooper handed over a penny to the old man sitting on a wooden stool, curiously not showing any hint of curiosity upon seeing customers so late in the day.

“You always were a bit of a pill, Cousin Gertrude,” he responded in just the correct tone of cousinly disgust as the old man creaked to his feet to push open one of the doors. “Next you’ll say you want me to bring you back again tomorrow, and I won’t. Not if you beg.”

The old man cleared his throat. “There be sheets of paper and charcoal sticks inside, miss, for those who wish to take rubbings from some of the tombstones out back. Some lovely old stones we’ve got, we do. Only a penny for five.”

Dany turned her most winning smile on the caretaker. “Why, thank you, good sir. Cousin, don’t just stand there like the fool you are. Give the man a penny.”

“Going to use them to stuff more bonnets?” Cooper asked, reaching into his small purse. “Here you go, sir, a six-pence. We’d rather not be disturbed.”

“None of them never does,” the old man grumbled, shaking his head as he returned to his stool as Cooper grabbed her hand and pulled her inside before she could ask the old man what he meant.

The door had barely closed before Dany turned on him, laughing. “Did you hear that? This place is used for assignations, isn’t it? The man as nearly said that. Do you take advantage of this chapel often?”

Still clasping her hand, for there were only a few candles burning and the stained-glass windows didn’t let in much light, he led her to a bench placed against one wall. “I thought I was being original, as a matter of fact. Here, sit down. You lie too easily for my comfort, Gertrude.”

“Gertie. I much prefer Gertie. So you don’t think the caretaker believed either of us?”

“Do you?”

Dany thought about that for a moment. “I’m not certain. I wouldn’t want to be thought of as a loose woman. Or as someone as silly as my sister, who probably would have thought trysting with her unknown admirer in an ancient chapel the epitome of romantic expression. Of course, in either case, you’re the rotter of the piece. Shame on you.”

The baron sat down beside her. “You don’t have a single nerve in your body, do you?”

“I don’t think so, no,” she said as every last nerve in said body commenced to tingle at his closeness. Not that he’d ever know that. “Papa vows I was a cuckoo hatchling. You do know about cuckoo birds, don’t you? They lay their eggs in other bird’s nests? If my great-aunt Isobel on my father’s side hadn’t had my same outrageous hair color, I believe Mama would have had considerable explaining to do. And don’t look at me like that. Yes, that’s how I know so much about...usurping. My brother explained it all to me. So, now can we get down to business? What time do you want me to meet you at the tradesman’s entrance? Timmerly locks all the doors at midnight, but I managed to find an extra key for the side door that leads to the kitchens. It will be a simple matter of Emmaline letting you in, and sneaking you up the servant stairs.”

“I will not sneak into your bedchamber.”

“Oh, but I’ve already explained this to you. And we’ve already agreed that time is of the essence. Nobody will be any the wiser, and Emmaline can be discreet. There’s no other way.”

“Unfortunately, there is. Now listen carefully, Miss Foster, as we are limited for time.”

“So formal? We’re conspirators now. Please, address me as Dany. It’s so much easier.”

“And yet the clock continues ticking, Miss Foster,” the baron said tightly, the look in his green eyes one of frustration bordering on contemplated mayhem, if Dany was any judge, and she was, having been the recipient of that particular look from members of her family time and again in her growing-up years (and at least twice today).

“Ticktock, ticktock. Yes, I understand, even as I wonder if you do. Go on.”

“I’ll ignore that. Here are the rules. One—there can be no clandestine surveillance nests set up in your bedchamber. Not by me, not by you, not by any combination that includes you, me or any number of other persons, none of which would be considered a chaperone by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Not even the Archbishop of Canterbury?” Dany couldn’t resist. He was so handsome in his frustration. If he were her brother, he could box her ears or some such thing. But he wasn’t, and he was forced by Society to treat her as a young lady of quality. Pity she didn’t know how to behave like a young lady of quality.

Or perhaps she did; she’d certainly had years of lessons behind her. She simply didn’t see the point, when misbehaving was so much more fun.

“We’ll leave that question for the moment,” he said tersely. “Two. I did not ask for this assignment, I did not seek it out, I don’t want it—but you and your crackbrained scheming has put me in this position. That said, and in words with the least syllables, I am in sole charge of what we do to aid the countess.”

All right. Now he was ruffling her feathers. She clasped her hands and pressed them to her bosom, and then fluttered her eyelashes for good measure as she goaded: “My hero. I do fear I might swoon.”

At last, he smiled. If he was a sobersides, at least she seemed to have found a way through to his appreciation of the ridiculous. “Please don’t let me stop you. I’m certain there’s some water in that vase of wilting posies over there. Dumping its contents on your paper-stuffed head would count as my only pleasure since I woke up this morning.”

Hmm. Perhaps he wasn’t as amused as she’d thought, but was only delighting in contemplating a bit of revenge on her for all she’d put him through. Which was probably a lot, all things considered.

“Clearly entirely on the wrong side of the bed.” Dany knew to retreat when she’d gone too far—she’d certainly traveled to that point often enough. “Very well, I’m sorry. No more interrupting. You’re doing Mari and me a huge favor and I’ve given you nothing but grief in return. But,” she added, because with Dany there was always a but somewhere, “you really needn’t be so mean. I’m only trying to help.”

The baron stood up, walked a few paces away from the bench and then turned to look at her. “I know, and that’s what makes what I have to say even more difficult. You think you’re helpful. Let me correct myself. You’re positive you’d be helpful. Tell me, how much the worse would it be for me if I didn’t include you in my plans?”

She got to her feet, applauding softly. “I knew you’d be brilliant, my lord. Never before has anyone asked that question.”

“Although they certainly did get an answer?” he asked her, another smile actually beginning to evidence itself at the corners of his mouth.

That was a rough patch gotten over neatly.

“Indeed, yes, they did. I’m afraid I’m not a thing like Mari, or my mother, or most women for that matter. I cannot fathom dutifully tending to my embroidery when something important is afoot. It’s against my nature. Sitting and waiting, perhaps sending up prayers in some chapel such as this one, with nothing to say about the outcome, would drive me mad.”

“I’m after a petty blackmailer, Miss Foster, not marching off to the Crusades with your colors tied to my sleeve.”

Oh, but if it were and if you did, I’d follow you without an instant’s hesitation. With that thought came a blush that was the bane of her red-haired existence. Perhaps she was more like Mari than she’d considered. “Don’t be facetious, my lord. But now that we’ve gotten that settled, what are we going to do next? And please don’t say we’ll be adding the viscount to our hunting party. I don’t believe he would approach the problem with as much gravitas as I would like.”

“He said you’d say that. But I’m afraid we may not have much choice. You might want to sit down again, Miss Foster.”

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

“Very well, I suppose I can allow you to be stubborn when it makes no difference to me. We still do this with the understanding that I am in charge of anything over and above whether you choose to sit down or stand up. Agreed?”

“If I have no choice. Go on.”

“That said, being in charge, it naturally follows that you’ll be taking orders from me. You are not to circumvent those orders, you are not to improvise, you are most definitely not to question those orders. You are not to think up anything you believe to be a better solution than mine and go off on your own, leaving me to chase after you and pick up the pieces.”

Yes, he already knew her very well. How had that happened? Did she have a warning sign pasted to her forehead, that only he could see?