A Gentleman Says "I Do" (19 page)

Iverson felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. “About what?”

“I have a lead on the whereabouts of Sir Phillip.”

All thoughts of the warehouse incident vanished. Sir Randolph had told Iverson he would let him know if he found out anything about Sir Phillip, but Iverson had never believed the dandy would.

“That would be welcome news, and I’d like to hear it.”

“Apparently he’s been known to seek his pleasures at Madame Shipwith’s house over on the north side of London.”

“Is she a widow?”

Sir Randolph shook his head. “She’s a courtesan, a highly paid courtesan.”

“Not surprising.”

“That’s not all. She also runs a brothel.”

That didn’t surprise Iverson, either. It wasn’t unusual for highly paid mistresses and courtesans to start their own businesses after their beauty faded.

“Why haven’t you checked to see if he’s there?”

“I did, but unfortunately I wasn’t judicious in my approach to the madame, and I didn’t learn anything. It wasn’t that I didn’t know better, I did. So I wouldn’t suggest you go in and ask if the gentleman you’re looking for is there, if you know what I mean.”

Iverson nodded and wondered if Sir Randolph had offered the woman money for information. Probably not, but Iverson would. “I know what you mean. I’ll be careful in how I approach her and see what I can find.”

The last place a man wanted to be disturbed was at a brothel, but Iverson had no compunction about bothering Sir Phillip, no matter where he was. He wanted the matter with Catalina’s father settled. And quickly.

Iverson left Sir Randolph and made his way toward the south terrace. He had to see Catalina before he left. He had intended on asking her for a dance. Now that would have to wait for another night. If there was any chance Sir Phillip was at Madame Shipwith’s, he had to go there.

She wasn’t on the terrace when he arrived, but several other people were. It was an unusually clear night, and a bright half-moon lit the dark sky. Iverson didn’t want to get caught up in a conversation with anyone else, so he moved to the side of the building and waited in the shadows until he saw Catalina walk out.

He eased up beside her and steered her as far away from the other people as possible.

“I’m glad you decided to meet me,” he said.

“I hope you at least had some doubts as to whether I would.”

Iverson laughed and wished he could pull her into his arms and kiss her until he had his fill. “I have always had many doubts where you are concerned, Catalina. You are an expert at keeping me on my toes.”

“Don’t you mean toe to toe?” she teased.

“Ah, yes. How could I forget Lord Truefitt’s column?”

She smiled at him, and her eyes scanned down his face. “I noticed, when we were dancing, you looked pale. I thought it might just be the lighting, but even here in the moonlight, I can see your color is off.”

“Really? I can’t imagine why,” he said, thinking there was no reason for her to know he’d been sick from his ride in the chilling rain.

“You’ve been ill. I can hear it in your voice, too.”

He’d have to remember it was difficult to get anything past Catalina. Neither Miss Taylor nor Miss Whitehouse had noticed his voice was a bit gravelly.

“You can’t hear anything,” he protested.

“I knew you had gotten too wet the day we returned from the inn. Why didn’t you let me know you had been sick?” Catalina demanded.

He realized he actually liked the idea that she was concerned about him. “What would you have done if I had?”

“I would have sent you some of Nancy’s chicken stew.”

“I really didn’t feel up to eating anything for a couple of days, Catalina.”

“Well, if I had known that, I would have sent you some of Aunt Elle’s tonic.”

He laughed. “Now that might have done me some good. I am much better now and not in need of anything but a kiss from you.”

Her gaze searched his, and she whispered, “Perhaps I’d be willing if we were not standing out here in the open where others could see us.”

Iverson looked at her lovely face and smiled. “Then I will have to plan a time we can be alone.”

“That will be difficult.”

“But not impossible.” He reached into his pocket and handed her handkerchief to her. “I wanted to return this. It saved my life.”

“I’m sure you are overstating that,” she scoffed, and then smiled. “But I see you are still wearing the cord from my reticule.”

“I’ve decided it brought me good luck. You did say I didn’t need to return it.”

She nodded, and he could see it pleased her that he still wore the black string with its small tassels.

“And I meant that.”

“I had hoped to ask you for a dance, but now something has come up, and I must leave right away.”

Concern sprang to her eyes. “You’re still unwell.”

“No, truly. I’m fine, but I just received word from someone who thinks he knows where your father might be. I’m going there now to see if he is.”

She stepped closer to him. “My father? Where? Tell me. Better yet, I’ll get Auntie, and we’ll go with you.”

“No, no, Catalina.” Iverson shook his head. “What I have to say to your father is only between us.”

Her eyes suddenly turned stormy. “Because you want to harm him?”

He saw real fear in her expression, and he moved closer, wanting to calm her. “No. Maybe at one time I wanted to, but not anymore. You have my word I will not harm him, Catalina. But if I do find him, or whenever I do, I must make it clear to him there will be consequences if he should write about my family again.”

“But what if—?”

“What?” he asked.

She remained silent, as if she were trying to decide what to say, and that puzzled him. Catalina was seldom at a loss for words.

“Are you thinking, what if you could promise me he would never do it again? You know you can’t make that promise for him. He must do it, and I will have it from him.”

“Iverson, I—Will you give him a message for me?”

“Of course.”

“Tell him I need him to come home. He’s been gone much too long.”

Iverson had the feeling there was an unspoken
and
at the end of her sentence. He was sure she wanted to say something more, so he waited and gave her time. But the silence dragged, and she remained quiet, with her gaze gently caressing his face.

“If I find him, I’ll make sure he gets your message.”

“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on Aunt Elle.”

Iverson watched Catalina hurry inside.

Oh, yes, he intended to find Sir Phillip, and before this night was over.

Make haste slowly.

—Latin Proverb

Could she do it?

If so, there was no time to waste.

Catalina’s heart pounded, and her skin suddenly felt cold as she turned her back on Iverson. She prayed he didn’t try to stop her to say more, for if he called to her, she would not turn back. If she did, she might change her mind.

Tension struck her fiercely, and her legs felt stiff and awkward as she cleared the terrace doorway and entered the stuffy Great Hall once again. She picked up the hem of her gown, and trying to remain dignified, she hurried toward her aunt. She mumbled, “I’m sorry,” several times as she knocked elbows, brushed shoulders, and stepped on long skirts.

“Catalina,” someone called to her, but she kept going and pretended she didn’t hear. She didn’t have a moment to spare. Thankfully, she knew exactly where her aunt was, because she’d checked on her before she’d headed out to meet Iverson.

Moments later, hoping she wasn’t visibly shaking on the outside as much as she was on the inside, Catalina stopped in front of her aunt. Trying to sound normal, she said, “May I speak to you alone, Auntie?”

“Of course.” Aunt Elle rose from her chair, excusing herself from her ribbon of friends lining the dance floor. “What’s wrong, dearest? Your face is flushed, and you’re wearing a rather frantic expression.”

Catalina tried to relax her face. “I’m afraid I am at the moment.”

Aunt Elle touched Catalina’s gloved arm and moved her farther away from the ladies. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have time to explain everything, anything. I’m not certain I would if I could, but I need you just to trust me.”

Aunt Elle gave her a curious look and chuckled softly. “What are you talking about? You know I trust you. That has never been an issue between us.”

“I know, but I’ve never asked anything like this of you. Auntie, I need you to allow me to leave in the carriage immediately, and you must ask Lady Windham or another friend to see you home.”

A frown creased her brow. “What?”

“Please, you must do this for me. Tell whomever you choose that I had a headache and had to leave early. Ask them to see you home.”

“There’s no need for that. I’ll go with you.”

“No, I want to go alone. I must go alone.”

Fear suddenly clouded her aunt’s eyes, and the wrinkle in her forehead furrowed deeper. “In the carriage alone? Why, that’s an outlandish idea, Catalina.”

“It’s necessary,” she insisted.

“You know I can’t allow that, dearest. It would ruin your reputation if anyone found out. I can’t do that.”

Catalina inhaled deeply while she waited for a group of ladies to walk by, and then whispered earnestly, “You must. I will have Briggs with me. I don’t have much time, Auntie. Please, allow me the freedom to take the carriage and trust that I must do this.”

Her aunt’s eyes searched her face. “Catalina, this worries me greatly, but I’ll agree,” she finally said. “I don’t think I have a choice. I can see in your eyes you will do this anyway, no matter what I say. You would just slip out of the house later tonight, and that would probably be worse.”

“Thank you, Auntie. I promise I will not do anything that would be harmful to me.”

“Then go. Go. But I’ll wait in the drawing room until you return. And, Catalina, send Briggs after me immediately if you need me.”

“Thank you!” She hugged and kissed her aunt and walked away as fast as she thought she could without drawing unwanted attention or arousing suspicions at her hasty exit.

When Catalina made it to the front of the Great Hall, she saw Iverson walking out the front door, putting on his cloak as he went. She hurried over to the servant and asked for her wrap, telling him to please hurry. When he returned, she grabbed her cloak from his hands and rushed down the steps. She spotted the host’s footman and asked him to call for her carriage from the side street.

There were several ladies and gentlemen standing in front of the building, chatting, and two or three others stood nearer the street, waiting for their coaches to be brought around. It was early for anyone to be leaving, so there weren’t many people around. The problem was that all the gentlemen wore black cloaks and top hats. She would have to get closer to distinguish Iverson from the others, and she had to keep him from recognizing her.

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and held the ends around her chin as if she were chilled. At last she recognized Iverson, and her chest tightened. Suddenly, following him seemed too daunting to accomplish. What had made her think she could do it? And without him knowing? The task was overwhelming.

“No,” she whispered to herself. She would not be shaken in her resolve so easily. Iverson had followed her. She could follow him. She couldn’t let him meet her father alone. She had to be there to lessen the blow when Iverson heard there was more to the story of
A
Tale
of
Three
Gentlemen
. Summoning strength from deep inside herself, she shook off the debilitating feeling of defeat and moved closer so she could board her carriage as quickly as possible.

A few moments later, a carriage rounded the corner, and Iverson started walking to the street. When the coach stopped, he climbed inside. Catalina squeezed her hands into fists, wrinkling the fabric of her cloak into her palms. How would she ever find him if his coach went out of her sight before her carriage arrived?

As soon as Iverson’s driver shut the door, she hurried to the edge of the street. She whispered, “Come on, Briggs, come on.”

Iverson’s carriage took off, and her heart sank. Moments later she heard another carriage rounding the corner. Her heart soared. It was Briggs. She motioned for him to hurry.

Briggs pulled the horses to a stop and jumped down from the box to assist her. Breathing heavily, she pointed toward Iverson’s coach and said, “Do you see Mr. Brentwood’s carriage leaving there?”

He nodded and opened the door for her.

“Follow it, and don’t lose it.”

“Aunt?” he mumbled, clearly concerned as he helped her step inside.

“Do not worry about her. A friend will see her home. Briggs, we must hurry. Do not lose that carriage. It is turning the corner up ahead. Now, let’s go.”

Her faithful servant nodded and slammed the door shut. Within seconds, the landau jerked forward, and they started rolling and bumping along the street at a fast clip. Catalina leaned against the cushion and realized she was shivering from excitement as much as from the cold. She laughed at herself when she realized that she was actually following Iverson. She pulled a blanket over her legs and fitted her cloak tightly around her shoulders, snuggling deep into its warmth. All she could do now was wait and trust that Briggs would keep up with Iverson’s driver, and without letting the man know he was being followed.

Catalina had no way of knowing exactly how much time passed, but it was perhaps close to half an hour before they stopped and Briggs opened the door. She threw off the blanket, and wrapping her cloak tighter about her, she cautiously looked out. She didn’t want to step down until she knew where Iverson was. She spotted him walking toward a large house, so she climbed out.

The atmosphere of the area seemed a little strange to her. There were no streetlamps, houses, or other buildings of any kind nearby. The only lights came from the windows in the house and from the lanterns on the carriage. They couldn’t be in a neighborhood, so they had to be somewhere near the outskirts of the city.

She held back and watched Iverson walk up the three steps to the house and knock. The door opened presently. He talked to the servant for a moment or two and then was allowed inside. That seemed simple enough. But, of course, she knew it wasn’t as easy for a young lady without benefit of a chaperone to enter a home as it was a gentleman. She would tell the servant she was there to meet her father. She couldn’t imagine Sir Phillip Crisp’s name would not gain her entrance past any door. Thankfully, she was dressed for whatever party was going on inside the house. It should be easy to fit in with the group. If she hurried, she could possibly find her father before Iverson did.

Catalina turned to Briggs and said, “I hope to be back shortly.”

Briggs shook his head and made signs with his hands that meant he did not want her to go. He mumbled what sounded like the word, “Gentlemen.”

The place could be a high-stakes gaming house or an out-of-the-way gentleman’s club, and not a party for gentlemen and ladies at all. That could present problems, and she could understand Briggs not wanting her to go up to the house if that were the case, but she couldn’t let that stop her. She looked back at the house. Her chest ached from holding herself so rigid. The cold air whipped around her, but she would not lose her courage now.

If there was any chance her father was inside, she had to go up to that door. And if it turned out it was a gentleman’s club, she would simply ask that they tell Sir Phillip she was there and needed to speak to him.

Briggs must have sensed her indecision. He pointed to her and then to the house again, and shook his head vehemently.

He mumbled, “You no go,” and jerked his thumb toward the house again.

It was unusual for Briggs or any servant to take her to task over anything. He was a gentle man and always eager to please her. She was surprised he was so adamant. Obviously, he was trying to protect her from following Mr. Brentwood, and she appreciated his concern. But this was her decision. He had to accept that she was the one in charge. No one was going to keep her from finding out if her father was in that house.

“I know what I’m doing, Briggs, and I will be fine. You must wait for me here.” He continued to shake his head. “Do not disobey me,” she said, allowing her irritation at his insistence she not follow Iverson. “Now tell me you understand.”

He looked at the house again and then reluctantly pointed to his chest and then to the ground, indicating he would stay there.

She smiled. “Good.”

Briggs nodded.

Catalina lifted the hood of her cloak and pulled it over her head and started toward the house with a new determination to find her father and settle the issue of
A
Tale
of
Three
Gentlemen
once and for all. She walked up the steps and stopped in front of the door. Her hand shook slightly as she reached for the door knocker and hit it against the brass plate. It was a timid knock, so she struck it harder.

The door opened and a woman—a tall, buxom woman—looked her up and down and then immediately said, “It’s about time you made it here. What took you so long, and where’s your friend?”

Startled by her gruffness and confused by her words, Catalina said, “I’m not sure what you are talking about.”

“Sure you are. You were supposed to be bringing another gel with you. But you were expected earlier in the day, too, and we see that didn’t happen, don’t we?”

Catalina tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I think you must be confusing me—”

“Of course you’re sorry,” the woman barked aggressively. “Women like you are always sorry. I hear it from you every day. Never mind about what happened to your friend or why you are late. I don’t have time to listen to your excuses, anyway. You’re here now, and it’s past time to get started. Come in, and let’s get you dressed for work.”

“Work?” Catalina asked, surprised, and then it dawned on her the woman apparently thought she was there applying for employment.

She opened her mouth to tell her she was making a mistake, but her mind started swirling with possibilities, and she decided to stay quiet. Pretending to be the person the woman was expecting would get her in the house, and right now, that was her objective.

Catalina stepped into the expensively decorated vestibule. A tall, ornate mirror hung over a fancy, gilt-coated and marble-topped side table. Several red velvet-covered side chairs lined the walls. She heard muted chattering but not enough to indicate a large party going on. She might have thought it was a gaming house or a gentleman’s club of some nature if she wasn’t sure she heard feminine voices and laughter coming from down the corridor.

“Stop gawking at everything and acting like you’ve never seen a nice place before. You’re already late, and you need to get started. The night will be over before you know it.”

“All right,” Catalina said and followed the woman down a narrow, dimly lit corridor.

Catalina glanced inside a room as she passed an open doorway and saw gentlemen and ladies standing around talking. She slowed down in hopes of spotting her father or Iverson, but there were too many people crowded into the room. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, just like all the parties she’d attended. This couldn’t be a gentleman’s club or a high-stakes card game. She had never heard of either of those places allowing ladies to join them. That realization allowed Catalina to relax a little.

She expected the buxom servant to lead her to the kitchen, but instead she started up a dark back staircase. Catalina was beginning to wonder exactly what kind of servant work the woman expected her to do. Not that it really mattered. She planned to get away as soon as possible and get below stairs again where all the people were.

They bypassed the first floor and went on to the second, where they walked down to the end of the corridor. The woman stopped and opened a door and said, “In here.”

Catalina thought it an odd room when she entered. Against the far wall, there were three dressing tables with ornate mirrors. The other three walls were littered with hooks. Various styles and colors of clothing draped from each hook. It was almost too much for Catalina to take in at one time.

“Take your cloak off and pick out something to wear.”

She hesitated as she continued to look around. She just wanted to find her father and avoid Iverson. She didn’t want to take the time to change into servants’ clothes.

“Here, try this on. It looks like it might fit you.”

She handed Catalina a dark red gown with a neckline cut so low Catalina could look at it and know she certainly didn’t want to wear it. And the gown was far too fancy for servants’ wear. And why would the woman give her such a matronly color as dark red?