Page 5 of The Earl's Hired Bride
An image flashed in her head—of her near encounter in the park the other day. She sighed. No, not even if she had to swallow her pride.
But, oh, what a bitter pill it would be, going down.
She took the meager payment from Mr. Finch and set out. She had deliveries to make today. As did Jasper, who made money acting as an errand and delivery boy for several milliners and modistes, and even a tailor in Saville Row. She met him at the corner, near Bond Street. Her heart sank again as she met his hopeful gaze with a shake of her head.
“Who would have thought it?” he asked mournfully after she’d delivered the bad news. “Miss Paxton wearing fake jewels—and her from one of the highest families in the land?” He sniffed. “Though Mr. Waters has griped that her papa is none too quick at paying his shot, either.”
“I should have come up with a different scheme,” Emily sighed, taking a few of his burdens from him.
“I’ll keep my ear out for more gossip,” Jasper offered. “We might yet try again.”
“Perhaps.”
They walked in silence for a moment. “Are you for Madame Lalbert’s?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m to deliver a ball gown to Mayfair.”
“She sent word to Mama yesterday that she has some ribbons she wishes enhanced. I’m to pick them up. I hope I can talk her into at least an over-slip as well.”
“Well, keep your blinkers peeled,” Jasper warned. “I notice the new head wrap. It looks dowdy enough. Had any further sign of the old gentleman?”
“No, not since I spotted him roving up and down Bond Street.” She shook her head. ‘He must have tracked down that jarvey that caught me hitching a ride. Can you imagine the money and manpower he must have expended, to find that driver?”
It sent shivers down her spine. The Duke of Danby. Why should he spend so much time and effort trying to find her? “What on earth do you think he wants?”
Jasper glowered. “Nothing good. Not his sort.”
“You should have seen him, Jasper. He must be twice Mama’s age, and yet you would think them contemporaries.”
“It’s what a lifetime of country air, good food and plenty o’ blunt will do for ye,” the boy said sagely.
“Yes, and an absence of cares and worries. And if he can offer Mama any of that, then perhaps we should let him?”
Jasper scoffed. “That old toff ain’t here to do ye any favors, Em, and ye know it. More like he means to run ye right out o’ Town.” They ducked down the alley that would take them to the back entrance to the modiste’s shop. “It’s exactly why Molly Standon left. The family came fer the Season and wanted no chance that the younger generation would catch a glimpse of her, waltzing about London looking fer all the world the very image of their father.”
“You might be right. But I don’t look overly like him, nor does mama. So he might have a kinder purpose in mind.”
“If he did, why wait until now?” Jasper shook his head and held open the door for her. “I’m telling ye, that toff’s up to no good, should ye ask me.”
“Which toff is that?” Madame Lalbert asked. She stood at a table in her backroom, tying a decorative bow around a large dress box.
Jasper eyed the girl cutting into a jonquil silk at the next table and shrugged.
Madame Lalbert shifted her gaze from him, to Emily and back. “Josephine,” she said thoughtfully, “will you run up to the storage room and bring down that white Brussels lace we bought last week? I’m thinking it will look well with that promenade dress.”
The seamstress rose and left the room and Madame crossed her arms over her formidable bosom. “Let’s hear it.”
Jasper explained while Emily fidgeted. “Do you think there’s a chance that he means well?” she asked when her friend had finished.
The modiste sighed. “That one? I don’t know. The old duke is notorious for being picky about his family. He runs riot over the lot of them, it’s said, bullying and manipulating until he’s got them married off to his satisfaction.”
“Well, he can’t want to marry Mama off, nor me. Why would he interfere in our lives, after all of this time?”
Before he died, her papa had asked her to be gentle, if the topic of her mama’s real parents ever came up. “She never got over thinking they might come and enquire after her,” he’d said. It had explained finally, just what her mother was longing for, when she grew quiet and that dreamy, hungry look came over her. It had explained the hopeful tone with which she’d always greeted new customers in their storefront, and the tiny wrinkle of disappointment that always creased her brow, as if she was continually waiting for someone who never came.
Madame shook her head. “I’m sure I could not guess, but the man has such a reputation for being crotchety and insistent on his own way, I would be careful, were I you.”
Emily nodded, her protective instincts surging. That was not the sort of man whom her mother dreamed of, she felt sure. “I will be careful. Mama is fragile enough, without having her heart broken, too.” She sighed. “But I cannot very well stay inside all day. We need the work.”
