Page 42 of An Honorable Deception
It was, not surprisingly, a copy of theLondon Ladies Journal.They’d kept every single edition of the magazine since Gemma had first started writing for them six years ago. More surprising was that the date on the cover said it was more than three years old—and it was considerably dryer than Lavinia herself. She must have been protecting it as she ran from house to stables. He opened it to the page she had marked with a slip of paper, and he didn’t have to ask what had grabbed her attention.
A full-page advert greeted him, with the same image that the tie pin boasted topping the article. Or letter? It seemed to be one of those announcements magazines and newspapers sometimes ran, introducing a new venture or charity in search of donations and sponsors. It was written like a letter to the general populace.
Our Dearest Christian Friends,
It is with great joy that my fellow board members and I announce the foundation of a new venture that will improve our fair city and do our duty as Christians by those less fortunate than ourselves; specifically, the many poor women and children from about our proud empire who find themselves stranded inEngland with no means to return home to their distant colonies.
Far too often these destitute and desperate souls must resort to crime of the vilest sort, given their lack of mastery of the English tongue and unskilled qualifications for more gainful employment. No gentle soul can help but be both concerned and alarmed at the increasing number of such creatures crowding our streets. The current homes for their kind are overcrowded already; and my colleagues and I cannot help but think that our vision will provide a new model for them, allowing for more people to be given aid and, more importantly, be sent back to the homes they left.
With your generous benefaction, we will open the doors of the Empire House on the first of October in this year of our Lord 1907. A suitable location has already been procured in the Strand and is being transformed for its noble task even as I pen this letter. Already such admirable leaders as the respected Lord Vernon, the esteemed Mr. Rheams, and the well-traveled Lord Babcock have joined with us to ensure our aspirations succeed. Their combined expertise on matters of governance, business, and geography have guided us well toward this revolutionary new model of charity.
We trust that you, good friend, will be as eager to add your name to our list of sponsors. We pray you will make your initial donations to the direction above by 1 September in order for your name to be included in our first comprehensive list of donors, to be published upon the opening of the charity’s doors. Already a grand gala is being planned for our first anniversary in autumn of 1908, and it is with great confidence that we have settledupon the motto we know will guide our organization henceforth and forevermore:
The Empire House.
Where We Welcome Britain’s
Distant Children Home.
Yates’s gaze moved to the list of sponsor names in the left margin, and he felt his own grin rising to match Lavinia’s. “I daresay there has been some turnover, but it matches what you’ve found, doesn’t it?”
“Nearly exactly—and whatyoufound. Those men you observed at Brooks’s.” She bounced on her toes, even clapped her hands together. “And there’s an address! Not that we couldn’t have found it otherwise, but it saves us that work. Everything we need to look into them more, right there in one article.”
He nodded, handing the magazine back to Lavinia when Penelope tried to grab it. He tapped the monkey’s hands to tell her to lower them—which she did, but with a hoot of displeasure.
Lavinia held the magazine to her middle. “We should go. Investigate. I need to be trained in surveillance, too, don’t I? I can make an appointment as a potential donor and tour the place. Perhaps we’ll learn something, why the men after Alethia have this charity in common.”
The Empire House could be a cover, however inadvertently, for something darker. And not that he wanted to drag Lavinia into anything questionable, but ... well, if she was going to be an Imposter for any length of time, she would have to be exposed to the often unsavory nature of their discoveries sooner or later.
“Agreed. I don’t reallywantto turn back around and return to London so soon, but observing it for ourselves willbe quicker than trying to glean more from archived sources. And we can drop by the Barremore residence, too, to assure them Lady Alethia is well.”
Her eyes were so bright, one might think it was Christmas. And that she was six years old. “When? Today? Tomorrow? Should I go and pack?”
He chuckled and picked up his pitchfork again. “Might as well make it today, I suppose. See if Lady Alethia has a new letter written for her mother when you go back in, will you? And you ought to see if Marigold has any thoughts on costuming—just in case you need to pose as anyone but yourself.”
“Costuming.” She said it dreamily, and no doubt that would carry her right back to the house.
He dug his fork into the soiled straw of Pardulfo’s stall and swung to dump it to the wheelbarrow, pausing when he saw that she hadn’t retreated. She’d moved a step closer and was properly in the way. “Vin. Move.”
She did—away from the wheelbarrow, but even more into the stall, leaning against the side. “Do you think she’ll lend me one of those monstrous hats? I’ve been dying to wear one.”
He laughed again as he shook the straw free and swung around for his next scoop. “They’re magnificent, aren’t they?”
“The absolute best.” That she thought so was to be expected. That she still stood there while he shoveled manure inches from her face made him wonder if she was really present or mentally hunting through his sister’s extensive dressing room.
The latter. Definitely. He nearly clipped her with the next round of muck when she straightened without warning, an exclamation of “The purple one!” on her lips. Which turned to a squeal. And a laugh.
Yates planted the pitchfork into the straw, gripped her by the hips, and lifted her onto the divider between the stalls to get her out of the way.
Only after he’d already done it did he think that the move probably fell under the same heading ofunwise interactionsshe’d pointed out last night. Yes, he’d have done the same to Marigold if she were so absent-mindedly in his way. But Lavinia wasn’t Marigold, as she so helpfully pointed out.
Lavinia was probably thinking the same thing. That was probably why the clouds of costume-induced bliss shifted in her eyes, and different clouds drifted in, taking their place. But what alarmed him was the look of pain that crossed her face. She sat upright, her gaze going distant—and then she tumbled backward, vanishing behind the half wall in a flurry of flailing limbs and one breathless gasp.
THIRTEEN
Straw cushioned her fall, tickled her face, and was even gracious enough to flutter down over her in a shielding blanket that Lavinia would have been perfectly content to hide under for a few itchy moments.
Yates was already there. Brushing the straw away, all too quickly showing her the face that was so very worried that her heart squeezed as it had done a moment before. Which was what sent her over backward to begin with, totally forgetting there was no wall there to catch her.
