Trifling Favors (Redcakes Book 7) (22 page)

Greggory nodded and went upstairs for a few hours’ rest. He rose at four
A.M.
so he could properly letter a sign for the Redcake’s door, then speak to Mr. Soeur. When it came time for the other staff to arrive, he spoke to each person as they entered, telling them to return Friday at ten
A.M.
for their wages and an update. Then he went to work with his accounting clerks, tallying up payroll a day early. He hoped the next forty-eight hours would give them what they needed from the police, but meanwhile, he would go home and pack up the twins. His last task for Oscar before he left was handing him a telegram form to send to his father in Bristol, to have space made for him and the twins in the sprawling family home there.

 

Betsy woke later than she had in years. She had nowhere to go on a Wednesday. In the dining room, she found a discarded newspaper and looked for rooms to rent. It would be hard without a position. She wondered if she should ask Mrs. Fair if she could have Prissy’s job, but she didn’t know how to run a sewing machine and it would be very little money.

Midmorning, she went to the ladies’ lodging she had almost rented before but found the room was no longer available. Without meaning to, she found herself walking up the High Street toward Redcake’s. Not surprisingly, the pavement in front of the shop looked deserted, but she didn’t expect the display window to be empty. It made her feel as nauseated as any part of early pregnancy. She went right up to the window and found a sign announcing Redcake’s was closed for renovations for the rest of the week and an announcement of future hours would be posted on Sunday.

Oh, Greggory
, she thought with a sigh. He’d given up. It wasn’t just she who had lost her position. It was everyone, from Grace Fair to Winnie Baxter, even Oscar.

She went home to confront Greggory. When Mrs. Roach said he was in his suite, she didn’t demur, simply went upstairs and walked into his dressing room, where he was folding shirts into a valise.

He glanced up, and she saw his expression brighten, then dim into neutrality in the space of a second. “The nursery maid is packing the twins’ things.” He looked back to his shirts.

She clasped her hands together, to keep herself from throwing her arms around him. To shake him or hug him, she wasn’t sure. “I had a note from my father, saying you were leaving until we found rooms.”

“I have to be in London on Friday, to hand out payroll and update the employees, but the twins will stay in Bristol. I won’t spend the night here.”

She ignored his meaning. “I hope you try to reopen Redcake’s in a couple of months, after some new scandal has diluted ours. While Prissy and Simon haven’t yet confessed to murdering Manfred Cross, the public will consider the case closed by then. Customers will eventually return to Redcake’s. It is still the same high-class establishment, and Victor won’t be around to terrorize people with broken windows anymore.”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “I hope to reopen as soon as the police announce the murderer’s confession. Our customers need to know that Cross’s death was a squabble between jewel thieves.”

So she had underestimated him. Maybe he hadn’t given up on the business, just on her. “You think that is what they need?”

He turned. “Is it a comfort that you know why your mother killed?”

“I suppose.” She nodded.

He set down his shirts. “I think it is human nature to need to understand why violent death occurs.”

“Because, deep down, we are afraid we can kill, too,” she reflected. “I wonder if I could ever become so angry that I would kill.”

He ran his tongue along his lower lip. “If you were ever to kill someone, it would have been the blackmailer who ruined your youthful hopes with Lord Fitzwalter.”

How could she let the man who knew her best let her go? “It is nice that you know me so well. Sometimes I think you are the only person who has cared to know my true self. Lord Fitzwalter never gave me the opportunity to explain what happened with Simon Hellman; he was simply done with me. It broke my heart.”

“Those experiences may have left you too scarred to love again, but I love you, Betsy.”

She glanced down, abashed. Her fingers loosened from their tight grip around each other.

He took a step toward her. She could see his feet moving. “I wish you would go to Bristol with me. Start fresh. Get to know my family, plan a future with me.”

“I like it here,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to his. “I’d rather stay in London to start over.”

He stared at her, clearly puzzled. “I’ll stay if it means you’ll stay with me. But I imagine this isn’t about me.”

She sniffed. “Greggory, I have never felt my life was so out of control. I’m not used to this.”

“Your life is too big for you now. You need me, too.” He held out his hands.

“Is that the problem?” she asked through her tears.

He kicked over his valise. It landed on the floor, spilling out shirts. “I’ll stay, but only if you love me. Do you think you can?”

“I can’t help loving you, you sweet man. You are my dearest friend.” She rushed forward, half-blinded, trusting he would catch her up in his arms.

But he didn’t. He stopped in front of her and lifted his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Love is so hard to come by, Betsy. Don’t let it go to waste. We need each other. Nothing makes sense without you. I couldn’t even bring myself to open the tea shop without you there.”

“I can’t bring myself to stay in this house without you here,” she admitted.

“Then let us stop this foolishness,” he said, wrapping his arms around her at last. “Say you’ll be my wife and partner in everything.”

Reveling in the warmth of his embrace, she nodded and laughed. “Life simply doesn’t make sense otherwise.”

He cupped her jaw in his hand, and she lifted her chin so her mouth could meet his in a tender kiss.

When she finally pulled away, she said, “I want a new ring. A nice heavy gold circlet.”

He grinned. “Patience, sweetheart. The banns have to be called twice more.”

“That gives us the time to open the tea shop again,” she said, light filling her brain. Thoughts came flooding in. “I’ll write the notices to the newspaper myself. We’ll announce our engagement and overshadow any unhappiness.”

“A wedding cake in the display window,” Greggory said, catching her mood change. “I’ll get a special license. We can be married tomorrow. That will explain why I closed the shop. Be my partner, Betsy. My partner in everything.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, but with one difference. Leave Redcake’s closed the rest of the week,” Betsy said. “We should go to Bristol.”

“Let’s stay in a hotel,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “And leave the twins with my family.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest. Her home now, a place in Greggory’s arms. No one could take it from her. “A little peace before we have to worry about another addition to the Redcake family. Betsy Redcake. Oh, I never thought that would be my name.”

He squeezed her gently and laughed. “You belong to us, sweetheart. You are part of the family now. You are more a true Redcake than any of us.”

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Heather Hiestand was born in Illinois, but her family migrated west before she started school. Since then she has claimed Washington State as home, except for a few years in California. She wrote her first story at age seven and went on to major in creative writing at the University of Washington. Her first published fiction was a mystery short story, but since then it has been all about the many flavors of romance. Heather’s first published romance short story was set in the Victorian period and she continues to return to historical fiction. The author of many novels, novellas, and short stories, she is a bestseller at both Amazon and Barnes and Noble. With her husband and son, she makes her home in a small town and supposedly works out of her tiny office, though she mostly writes in her easy chair in the living room. She’s probably sitting there right now!

 

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