Page 9 of The Earl's Hired Bride
He thought about it. “Free to move about Town without constant tension. Free to continue to find my way into this role. And yes, free to meet people without worrying about their motives. I know my duty, Hestia. I will marry someday, but it will be a day of my own choosing, and not to someone who hunts me down like a dog with a bone, only so that she can live in a fairy tale castle.”
“I gather, since you are here, that your cousin did not agree?”
“On the contrary, she did agree. I booked her passage here and thought to meet her ship yesterday.” He sighed again. “But she was not aboard and the captain only had a letter saying that a beau stepped up at the last minute and convinced her that she didn’t need a dowry or a voyage to England.”
“And now?”
“You know what I mean to ask. I can see it in your face. I want to find a young lady to take my cousin’s place.”
“Good heavens.”
“Yes, I know.”
Hestia looked thoughtful. “It will take a very particular sort of girl to fill this position.”
“I’m aware of that. She must be a gentlewoman—or be able to pass as one.”
“She must be somewhat desperate herself, to agree to such a thing,” Hestia added.
“True. And she cannot wish to mix in Society after this Season, because once we have finished with this masquerade, I will put it about that my cousin decided that we did not suit and returned to America.”
Hestia tapped her fingertips together. “Where will this paragon stay while she pretends to be your cousin?”
“At Herrington House—with my mother. I won’t be staying there. Hell and damnation, at this point I’d be safer in Seven Dials. But I’ll find bachelor’s rooms or put up at a hotel.”
“Yourmotherhas agreed to go along with this scheme?”
“She had already agreed to go along with Emmaline’s masquerade. I rather think she meant to promote the match and make it a reality. But after this morning, she will go along with whatever I put into motion.”
“Well, then. You’ve everything in hand, do you not?”
“Except for finding the right girl.”
“Do you know, my lord, there is a chance that she might be closer than you think.” She leaned forward and reached up, opening a small panel that allowed her to speak to the coachman. “Slow down, just a bit, will you please?” she called. “Traffic is light enough, it should not cause a problem. Have you caught sight of the girl? She’s just ahead, moving toward the Cumberland gate.”
Hart didn’t hear the driver answer, but Hestia must have been satisfied. She sat back and watched out the window. “Now, you just sit back and let me work, my lord.” She met his gaze directly. “And kindly recall your promise. Do not interfere, unless I ask you to.”
***
Emily watchedthe family ahead closely. Her brothers and sister romped around Miss Carmichael, excited to be so close to the freedom of the park. The girl laughed with them and with their nurse. She was dressed in another overdone gown. Emily looked forward to seeing her in something that would highlight her fresh looks instead of burying them.
She would instigate a meeting with the girl even if she had to trip over one of her frightful flounces. She would instigate a conversation about fashions and offer to introduce her to a talented modiste, one still largely undiscovered and therefore economical. Madame Lalbert was ready, armed with a nearly complete day dress for the girl to try, and a selection of simple and elegant designs that would make her stand out in the right way . . . and Emily would receive a percentage of the profits from the order.
She could almost feel the comforting weight of the coins in her pocketbook. She would stop at a cook shop and purchase a thick, meaty stew for dinner—something to tempt Mama and fill Jasper up. Perhaps a loaf—
“Miss Carmichael is a lovely girl. I hope you intend to treat her in a kinder fashion than you did Miss Paxton.”
Emily froze—and turned to find a breathtakingly beautiful lady coming up behind her—amusement shining in her blue eyes.
“Excuse me?” Her heart was trying to pound right out of her chest.
‘I’ve no quarrel with how you duped Miss Paxton. That one deserves to be taken down a peg or two. But Miss Carmichael is by all reports a sweet, innocent girl.”
“She does seem so,” Emily agreed. She felt very queer indeed—and she could not tear her eyes from the woman who stared back at her with a mix of approval and curiosity. “Whoareyou? How did you know—”
“About Miss Paxton?” The woman smiled, cat-like. “I am Hestia Wright, my dear. I know a great deal of what happens in London, and I am able to find out the rest, when I am interested.” She reached out and linked her arm through Emily’s. “Come. Let us walk a bit, for I amveryinterested in you.”
“Why?” Then it struck her. Hestia Wright. The famed former courtesan, owner of Half Moon House, a safe place where any woman could come for help, with anything . . .
