Jade Lee - [Bridal Favors 03] (20 page)

“If I may, my lady?”

Irene nodded and stepped back as the runner frowned at the girl. He looked rather forbidding, which she supposed was the point. The girl held her ground, her own gaze steady, but Irene couldn’t tell if she were brave or terrified into stillness.

“You understand that many a boy could have this position. You’re lucky Lady Irene has such an open mind.” His tone indicated that he thought Irene mad, but it wasn’t his place to argue.

“Yes, sir,” the girl whispered.

“You know that your loyalty is to her and her alone. You do what she asks, when she asks, no questions.”

“Y-yes, sir.” The girl’s stammer didn’t indicate fear, but a ready understanding of the question and some of the consequences. After all, the girl didn’t really know Irene. What if Irene told her to do something illegal or dangerous? What then? It was a measure of her desperation that made the child agree without argument.

“And if you see something wrong, something that don’t sit well, you will report it to me immediately.”

The girl frowned, but nodded, her words quiet. “Yes, sir.”

Meanwhile, Irene found that she’d had enough. Tapping the runner on the shoulder, she stepped forward. “I believe that’s sufficient, Mr. Tanner. I find I like Carol just fine. And as I have a busy day ahead, I suggest we start immediately.” Especially since she had slept much too late. “Cook, will you please pack us a small basket? I’m afraid I won’t have time to stop for a meal, and I wouldn’t want my…” She all but rolled her eyes at the people surrounding her. “My retinue to get hungry.”

Mr. Tanner caught her meaning, his mouth flattening into a straight line, but he knew better than to say anything. So with a nod, she dashed upstairs. It was silly really. She rarely worried about her appearance when she left to negotiate with a ship’s captain. Her regular practical attire was more than adequate.

But she would be negotiating with Grant beside her, and that called for extra care. She tried to quell the excitement in her breast, the heated flush to her cheeks, and the bubbly feelings that kept trying to burst free in inappropriate giggles. She couldn’t, and soon her maid was looking at her with raised eyebrows and a question.

“It’s nothing,” she said, speaking more to herself than to Anna.

“It’s Lord Crowle, isn’t it?”

Irene paused, biting her lip as she met her maid’s eyes in the mirror. “Do you think it’s too soon?” she asked quietly.

“I think it’s past time,” returned the woman with feeling. “But mind you be looking for a ring, not a just a tumble, my lady.”

Irene swallowed. It was too late for that, she realized, her gaze canting down. “I am not the sort of woman Lord Crowle would marry. He has responsibilities to his title, and I do not fit what he needs.”

Anna sighed as she touched a dash of rouge to Irene’s cheeks. “Then send him packing, my lady, and find a man who has a ring for you.”

Irene sighed and nodded. Prudent advice from a smart woman. And yet, couldn’t she enjoy herself just a bit longer? Be with a man she adored for a few weeks more?

“Well, I’m stuck with him for the moment,” she said softly. And, of all the things that bothered her about the current situation, Grant was the one complication she couldn’t regret.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” Anna said gently. “They’ll find the madman soon enough. Then you’ll be free to find a husband.”

Irene nodded. She didn’t say what she feared most was that she’d never be free of Grant. Her heart was already too entangled. So much so that, when he finally left to fulfill his obligations to his title, she could be destroyed. Completely and utterly destroyed. And no amount of work would bring her back to life again.

Grant was barely out of bed when he got the message from Mr. Tanner about Irene’s plans. Apparently, she didn’t have the constitution to lie abed like a bored society matron. He rather liked that about her. If he hadn’t been tossing and turning all night—dreaming about her—then he probably would have been up earlier as well. After five years of living by the dictates of the mill, he often found himself awake and alert much too early for any of his London friends. But as he now had no mill doors to open, no ledgers to oversee, and no fabric to inspect, he found himself lingering in bed to no purpose whatsoever.

He’d never known how much he valued being forced to rise until he was back in London with nothing but time on his hands. Thank God he had Irene to occupy his thoughts. Otherwise, he might very well go mad.

He paused a moment, waiting for a wry comment from his madness, but no words filtered through his thoughts. He might have paused to wonder about that, but he had precious little time to get to the docks. So he rushed through his morning—er, afternoon—ablutions and quickly headed out.

He found them at
The
Singing
Lady
and was pleasantly surprised by the retinue that followed Irene. She was dressed in one of her hideous black gowns. It was sturdy and practical, but did little to disguise the quality of the fabric or the cut of the fashionable gown. He guessed that everyone on the docks knew her by name. After all, how many fashionable widows frequented the area? So if she could not work in anonymity, at least she had a retinue of two footmen, Mr. Tanner, and a young girl.

They were just boarding the tiny rowboat that would take her to the ship when Grant slipped in beside Mr. Tanner. They managed only the barest conversation before Irene noted his presence.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened on a slight gasp of surprise. He was watching her closely, wishing her bonnet didn’t shade her face from his gaze. He would have loved to see the sun on her pink cheeks. Still, despite the shadows, he was able to see her face brighten at the sight of him… and then shutter into a grimace of annoyance. As if she’d remembered she was irritated with him.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and she pointedly looked at Mr. Tanner then the two footmen. Ah, so she was angry about her protection and obviously blamed him for the necessity. He folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the boat, showing her that he would not feel guilty for ensuring her protection.

The message was understood as she flashed him another grimace. In truth, he half expected her to stick her tongue out, but she didn’t. Though in his mind’s eye, he saw the flash of her pink tongue, and everything in him hardened at the imagined thought. Ridiculous that he could grow lustful from his own imagination, but then again, after the torment of his dreams, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Then an impish thought caught him, and he looked to Irene.

She was still glowering, so it was easy enough to slowly, seductively lick his own lips. Her eyes widened, and her face flamed. Even in the shadow of her bonnet, he could see the red on her cheeks and the way she bit her lower lip. She was too heavily dressed to see if her nipples reacted, but he would bet his last penny that they had. And when she looked back up—peering almost shyly from beneath her bonnet—he knew he’d been right. She’d been tormented as much as he had last night. And that knowledge cheered him immensely.

Then there was no more time for their silent game of tease because they arrived at the boat. They climbed on board, the footmen fanning out quickly, their rolling gait telling Grant these were former sailors. Mr. Tanner kept to a position near and a little to the left of Irene, his gaze taking in everything. Grant took his position behind Irene’s right shoulder. It all happened like clockwork, and he was pleased by the result. Even the captain—a grizzled man with a full beard and steady eyes in his weathered face—watched everything before giving a quiet nod of approval.

The only one who seemed discomforted by the group was Irene herself, and perhaps, the little girl at her side.

“Good afternoon, Captain Haverson,” she said quietly.

The man gave her a polite bow then nodded at her following. “Good to see, Lady Irene,” he said heartily. “Good to see.”

For her part, Irene released a huff of annoyance. “I assure you, it is not good in any way at all, but it appears I have little choice in the matter.”

“Begging your pardon, my lady,” the man said, “but aside from the dangers to any woman on the docks, your father has enemies. It’s past time he saw to your protection.”

Grant hadn’t meant to intrude on Irene’s negotiations, but this conversation wasn’t about silks or ivory buttons. This was about Irene’s safety, and so he took a step forward.

“Excuse me, Captain. My name’s Mr. Grant, and I’m keeping an eye on Lady Irene. If you could explain… please? What dangers—specifically—should we be watching for?”

The Captain narrowed his eyes, looking Grant up and down. What he saw must have agreed with him, because in the end, he gave a curt nod. “Mr. Knopp’s a fair man and a good employer, but he don’t tolerate laze-abouts or lack wits. And he’s downright murderous toward thieves.”

Grant nodded. “Anyone in particular that you’re thinking of?”

He grimaced. “I could give you names of a few I know—sailors who have a temper and a belief that their troubles are laid at Mr. Knopp’s door. But I’m only one captain out of a whole fleet. There’s bound to be a dozen or more names that I don’t know.”

“Your list would be a start.”

The man pursed his lips as he thought. Ten minutes later, Grant had memorized the five names he’d been given, along with the best way to locate the men. A quick glance at Mr. Tanner showed that he’d done the same. Then it was time for Irene’s business.

They went down to the hold—minus two footmen remaining above to guard their way—and Irene began a steady inspection of the merchandise that the captain had reserved for her. It was then that Grant got to enjoy Irene at her most mercenary, and the experience was a memorable one.

He had assumed that their negotiation in the inn was typical for the woman. He thought of their encounter as the first steps in a dance he now labeled: The Seduction of Lady Irene. She had been reserved then, almost shy in her persona of a grieving widow. In truth, it was exactly the best way to play upon his sympathies, and he’d wondered if that had been calculated decision or merely luck.

He now saw exactly how calculated her actions had been. Far from playing the grieving widow here, Irene acted as a critical customer, a woman who bargained with confidence, even as she inspected every purchase for flaws. She always acted the lady—her body and her language portraying elegance—but she was no shrinking violet with Captain Haverson. If anything, they had the feel of a pair of friendly adversaries.

That shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Never had he seen a woman act so much like… well, like a businessman. She was neither shrewish nor manipulative beyond the usual bargaining tools employed by any tradesman. It was a sight to see, and he was quietly awed by her prowess. So much so that he nearly forgot his task in protecting her.

Fortunately, nothing untoward occurred. In due time, Irene’s purchases were transferred to the dock and loaded onto Irene’s cart. They were just about to leave for the dress shop when one of the sailors approached him, hat in hand.

“Yes?” Grant asked.

The man—a fresh-faced boy barely into his first beard—wrung his cap between his fingers. Grant recognized him as one who had been on the deck when they’d first arrived. The boy must have overheard the conversation and was now awkwardly shuffling his feet.

“I ’eard wot you were saying. About men who don’t like Mr. Knopp.”

Grant schooled his expression into one of open interest without being fearful. “Yes, of course. Do you know of someone?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. But the angry ones—the ones who hate ever’body—they go to The Dog’s Bone. It’s a tavern near—”

“I know it,” said Mr. Tanner in a low voice. “I’ll go round there this evening.” Grant hadn’t realized the runner was listening closely, but now, he gave the man a nod.

Meanwhile, the boy was dipping his chin. “I don’t know of anybody in particular,” he repeated. “But I’d hate myself fer sure if something awful was to happen to Lady Irene.” He glanced a little too adoringly at the woman in question, and Grant felt his hackles rise.

It was ridiculous. Irene had no interest in this particular boy. She probably wasn’t even aware of the man’s devotion. But Grant’s possessive instincts surged forward. He didn’t want anyone looking at his woman that way. Fortunately, he had enough presence to stifle the urge and give the boy a brief—if somewhat cold—nod.

“Thank you for your help,” he said. “You can contact Mr. Tanner at Bow Street if you learn of anything else.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” the puppy said before slowly returning back to his ship. And to Grant’s true annoyance, the boy kept his gaze trained on Irene nearly the entire time.

“Insolent puppy,” Grant muttered under his breath.

Beside him, Mr. Tanner chuckled. “Can’t damn the boy because he’s got eyes to see and a heart to feel.”

“I can,” Grant grumbled back. “Isn’t fair or rational, but I certainly can.”

Mr. Tanner wisely didn’t respond. And soon they moved to their respective positions as they headed toward the dress shop to deposit Irene’s purchases. On the trip, Grant filled his mind with possible dangerous scenarios as he mentally rifled through the list of potential villains. The list was extremely vague, and therefore, huge. A nameless, disgruntled sailor was at the top of the list, but it could just as easily be an angry footman or a jealous competitor. That didn’t add in the possible problems stemming from Miss Drew’s activities with Demon Damon. It was enough to put him in a foul mood when they finally arrived at the dress shop.

He was in the midst of unloading bolts of silk when another problem arose in the person of one Miss Penny Shoemaker, fiancée to the runner Samuel Morrison.

“But you must come!” the girl was saying regarding her wedding in three weeks. “Bring them all, if you must.” She waved a dismissive hand at Irene’s retinue of protective footmen, “But it wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t there. Irene, you’re family. Every one of you are my family—the only ones I have left, except Tommy—and I want you there!”

Grant set down his armful and turned to see Mr. Tanner frowning furiously. When Grant raised an eyebrow in question, the man stepped closer and grumbled. “Awful hard to protect a woman at a wedding. Inside the church is safe enough, but once at the party afterwards? Especially with what she’s got planned?” He shook his head, more words unnecessary.

Grant was thinking, trying to sort through polite refusals, when Irene spoke up, her face alight with laughter. “But of course I’m coming, Penny! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

Irene rolled her eyes, feeling the pinch of her fashionable clothing, even as she glared at Grant. They had been arguing ever since the dress shop two hours before. Even when they separated long enough to change into their attire for the walk in Hyde Park, their argument lingered. It must have been the same for him because seconds after they met again, the heated discussion resumed, as if there had been no pause.

“I will not have my life restricted on all sides. I will not miss Penny’s wedding. And I will not allow you to create a sense of fear in me. I lived too long in that place, and I refuse to go back, no matter what the cost.”

“And if it costs you your life?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

She released a slow breath. “Then so be it. It is better than living without being alive.”

“That makes no sense at all!” he fumed.

“It makes perfect sense, and if you’d known me a year ago, you would not wish me to return to that pale nothing of a creature ever again.”

He grimaced. “I don’t want you to retreat, I want you to remain safe!”

“Until you catch our mysterious attacker.”

“Yes!”

“And do you have any news on who that man might be?”

“We have some new leads,” he said slowly.

“But no proof that any such attack will come again.”

He looked away, and she knew she’d caught him.

“Exactly,” she said. “You’d have me wrapped in cotton and secreted away for months, if not years, on the fear that something might happen again.”

“Your father is worried. He’s an eminently reasonable man, and he—”

“He has taken precautions. And I believe
you
are the one who worried him, what with sending around a Bow Street Runner.”

“He has enemies.”

“Then protect
him
! Goodness, he will not be at the wedding. Leave me in peace, and go surround him with all your bristling footmen.”

Grant released a huff of frustration, only moderately covered as he bowed his head in greeting to a mama and her two new charges—girls in their first come out. The woman was probably some countess. Irene didn’t know. She’d never been in the fashionable whirl, and she was rather irritated, suddenly feeling at outs with people who would have been her peers, if her life had gone differently.

Yes, she was the daughter of an earl, but she’d grown up impoverished, clinging to the trappings of a bankrupt title. It was only her marriage to Nate that had brought her any type of wealth, and that at the cost of her social standing. And now, she was a wealthy widow with a job that she loved. She couldn’t help but look askance at the need to dress pretty in order to traipse around Hyde Park, so that she could be seen by ladies who thought her nothing more than a fallen bird, all too willing to tromp upon her wings.

But that, of course, was her opinion. Grant, on the other hand, was the Earl of Crowle, and he had a standing to maintain. As a single earl on parade during the fashionable hour, he was also a target for every girl and her mama within the quarter-mile radius.

So they stopped and chatted. The woman was a baroness, apparently, but one with social ambitions. Grant made polite talk with the girls, eliciting true laughter from the children, while Irene felt her teeth clench and her cheeks ache.