10. November 11, 1826

10

NOVEMBER 11, 1826

GOODRUM’S HOUSE OF PLEASURE

E dge of Mayfair

Captain Eleanor Whitcombe, Duchess of Chelmsford, had a delicate problem which needed to be handled with the utmost diplomacy. She tossed the letter she’d just received from Col and tossed it into the flames of the crackling fire warming her office at Goodrum’s House of Pleasure

Now that the Earl of Framlingwood’s blackmailer had been identified and was on the run, desperate, and dangerous, she had to find a safe hiding place for Sally Big’Uns who’d been working for her in the laundry at Goodrum’s. The infernal woman was the only living person who had witnessed the blackmailer in action. Now that he knew Col was on to him, he’d have to eliminate Sally if he were to have any chance of escaping the hangman’s noose.

Sally had been paid half of a goodly sum up front by the blackmailer during his last pick-up of the earl’s money. All she had to do was use her ample bosom (hence her faux surname, Big’Uns) as a distraction at the tavern where the transfer of money was to take place so that he could escape unscathed with his ill-gotten gains. The only reason the former serving wench was still alive was that she was smart enough not to show up for the second half of her payment. Two other barmaids who’d helped the man in the past had had their throats slit for their troubles.

Now that the blackmailer was desperate, he’d have to cover his trail, and Sally’s life would not be worth the hot soapy water she hauled each day in her work at Goodrum’s. El trusted her employees implicitly, but too many vendors of goods and workmen came and went at her infamous place of business. She had to find a safer position for Sally until the bastard was caught.

Whilst she ravaged her brain for anyone she could trust enough not only to keep quiet, but defend Sally if necessary, there was a soft scratch at her door.

“Enter.”

Her husband Percy opened the door, slipped in quietly, and walked to her side for a long kiss. They both sank into the kiss, and his hands wandered to caress her bottom. “I missed you,” he finally said, after surfacing for a deep breath.

“I missed you too.” She gave a low purr and asked, “How much do you love me?”

Percy straightened his neckcloth, tilted his head, and asked, “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something?”

“Because we’ve been married long enough that I know the signs.”

When she made a slight moue, he quickly added, “Whatever it is, I’m your man.”

“Good. There’s someone I’d like you to meet and take to your country estate for protection whilst we take down the man who wants to kill her.”

“Is that all? It’s not even going to cost me money?”

A few minutes later when she took him to the club laundry and he viewed Sally Big’Uns in all her glory, courtesy of a damp bodice from her morning’s work, all the Duke of Chelmsford managed to choke out was, “Good Lord.”

“Miss Big’Uns, allow me to present my husband, His Grace, Duke of Chelmsford.”

Sally did her version of an awkward curtsy and then kept her head down.

“Sally, please raise your head,” El snapped. “He’s not a god, I can assure you. He’s my husband.”

“Is his lordship going to send me to magistrate,” she mumbled, her head still bowed.

Percy choked as if he had a fish bone stuck in his throat before saying, “Marley’s bones, no.”

“Not him, ta other, the one whose gold I made em lose…”

El was confused for short moments before she realized the poor woman was talking about Derek. “Oh, you mean the Earl of Framlingwood? That lord is not going to cause trouble for anyone. He has much bigger problems of his own to untangle.”

With that, Percy gave El a heated look full of unspoken meaning. Meaning she would have to pay dearly for this farce much later. El mentally calculated what a new set of sheets for the ducal bed would cost and decided a night of unbridled lust with the duke would not be too high a price to pay.

Percy moved to Sally’s side and bent low to reassure her. “I will guard you with my own life if necessary until that blackguard is brought to justice.”

El rang a call bell behind her desk, and within seconds, three of Goodrum’s beefy guards appeared at her door. “Wendell, you’re in charge. His Grace requires outriders to accompany him.”

“Where are we going, Mum?”

“With the duke and Miss Big’Uns. That’s all you need to know. Once they’re in the ducal carriage, His Grace will give you the destination. It’s up to you to take the most circuitous route.”

“Yes, Mum. For how long?”

“As long as it takes.” She paused in thought for a few moments. “And, Wendell…” she paused to give her head guard an intense look. “Keep a sharp eye to see if you’re being followed. If you are followed, I expect all of you to be ready and armed as if you’re going to war.”

November 11, 1826

Burlington Arcade, London

Gabrielle clapped her hands and laughed at the pleasure Margot took from trying on extravagant hats in Madame Roux-Cher’s specialty shop in Burlington’s mall.

They’d decided to leave for the morning to allow the drapers’ workmen room to begin the renovations. John had accompanied them as a handsome, unobtrusive guard whilst Will remained at Number Five Grosvenor Street to supervise the workers.

“That color brings out the roses in your cheeks,” John pronounced.

The dark green, straw beauty was strewn with artfully placed silk flowers in all the hues of a French landscape. A wide, dark burgundy ribbon tied beneath her chin with the hat at a jaunty angle completed the picture.

Margot slowly turned in front of a floor-length mirror provided by Madame Roux-Cher. “Do you really think so?”

John’s face took on a look of both concern and sincerity. “Riches fade, but a beautiful woman? She’s a joy forever.”

Gabrielle touched a gentle finger to the place where a bow held the confection in place beneath Margot’s chin. “What’s wrong with buying yourself something spectacular? The earl is always urging you to treat yourself to the finest baubles his money can buy.”

“Shall we put that on the earl’s account, and have the hat boxed and delivered?” The shopkeeper tilted her head and quirked a warm smile.

“Of course.” Margot came back to reality with a thud. She’d just bought a frivolous hat that made one yearn for a warm spring day, not the dreary spitting snow outside that was the reality of December in London. She decided that Gabrielle and John were a dangerous combination to accompany her on a shopping expedition.

She was relieved to feel the cold wind blowing down Bond Street. She locked arms with Gabrielle for warmth, and they moved slowly amongst the throng of shoppers. She should have been looking for Boxing Day gifts for everyone, not spending a ridiculous sum on herself.

And then she caught sight of the excited look on Gabrielle’s face. “What are you so happy about? You didn’t even buy something for you.”

“Mr. Kenton promised he’d take us to Hatchard’s on Piccadilly. He and Will gave me a list of titles on interior architectural design to put on their account.” She fairly bounced with excitement.

Margot hadn’t seen her this happy and absorbed in something for a long time. When she hazarded a look at Mr. Kenton, he laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone so keen to learn our business. She has an eye for design and color. We’re happy to provide her with the books for reference.”

“Mr. Kenton, you don’t have to do that. I can pay for her books.”

He covered her gloved hand with one of his. “It’s my pleasure. Let me do this for her.”

“Please call me John and I’m sure Will has no idea who you’re talking to when you address him as Mr. Bullock. There’s no reason for all of us to remain formal with each other since we appear to be together in whatever this dangerous situation with the blackmailer.”

He didn’t give her a chance to argue, but instead stepped into the street, raised a hand, and gave out an ear-splitting whistle. The earl’s carriage was headed toward them to take them on to Hatchard’s.

Once they were safely inside, he peered out the window back the way they came. “Someone has been dogging our footsteps all morning,” he warned. “He’s followed us from shop to shop.”

Margot sucked in a sharp breath whilst Gabrielle leaned far over John to gaze back at the man who still stood staring after them.

“Do you think he’s the blackmailer?” Margot demanded.

Before he could answer, Gabrielle gave both of them a sober look. “I know that man cannot be the blackmailer.”

They both stared at her, confused.

“How can you be sure?” John craned his neck around as well to take another look.

A tear slid down her cheek as she revealed, “That’s my brother, Captain Alton Tamaryn. His ship must have returned from China.”