Chapter 4

4

L ily called upon every bit of her skill as an actress as she crossed her drawing room and offered her hand to Captain Atherton. She’d met the handsome artist before in the company of his wife, Lady Honoria, whom she liked a great deal. Greeting him as he bowed over her hand was no trouble at all. The need for her thespian instincts arose when she clapped eyes on the man who was to be her reading tutor. Tutor? She barely suppressed the urge to snort in disbelief. She managed not to stare at him, but only just. Her palms had begun to sweat. Not a good sign.

She’d expected an older gentleman with silver in his hair and spectacles on his nose. Or perhaps a thick-necked pugilist sort in an ill-fitting suit with a tattered primer under his muscled arm, as she knew he was also intended to serve as her bodyguard against some unseen threat. Nothing in her wildest imaginings had prepared her for this Mister Barker-Finch.

He had a somewhat overwhelming presence about him. She noticed that presence in the same moment she was struck by his austerely handsome face. Sharp cheekbones beneath mesmerizing eyes the color of the dark grey mists that enshrouded Edinburgh on a cold winter morning. His nose, an equally sharp blade, made his features almost hawk-like. His ebony hair fell in thick waves to touch his shoulders and caressed his now furrowed brow.

In polished Hessians, buckskin breeches, a black morning jacket and waistcoat, and blinding white shirt and neckcloth, Mister Barker-Finch filled every inch of his clothes with natural muscle, no padding needed. His shoulders were broad, and he stood taller than Captain Atherton or even the earl by an inch or two. Every feminine instinct she possessed tremored with awareness that this was a specimen of the male animal who likely spelled chaos and ruin for every woman he encountered. Reading tutor? To quote her fellow mistress, Margot—“My arse!”

“Mister Barker-Finch,” she said, and added a husky seductress’s tone to her voice for good measure. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.” She studied him closely as he bowed over her hand. When he straightened, he was the one who studied her. His expression was mixed, part surprise and part…recognition? How could that be? She’d definitely remember such a man, even in her dotage.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss…Venable?”

“Do sit down, gentlemen.” She indicated the grouping of pink and green brocade chairs and settee before the fireplace. Mrs. Collins settled into a chair next to the drawing room doors. “Warm yourselves. Tea?” Lily offered. She’d never had reason to play the ton hostess, but there were few roles she was incapable of portraying. Her ability to become whoever she must to survive had allowed her the upper hand in most situations. Most.

“No, thank you,” Captain Atherton replied. “I must take my leave momentarily as I am expected at home.” Mister Barker-Finch merely shook his head.

“How is Lady Honoria? You must give her my regards.”

“She is well. Anxious for her confinement to come to an end. I will convey your regards to her. The clothes you and the other ladies have sent for the baby are exquisite. Thank you.”

“You can go now, Atherton.” Mister Barker-Finch’s sudden interruption startled Lily and Captain Atherton both. Even Mrs. Collins looked up from her sewing. “I am certain Miss Venable and Mrs. Collins and I can discuss the arrangements without your assistance.”

Captain Atherton glanced at Lily’s new tutor and then turned his attention to Lily. “Of course,” she murmured. She straightened her spine and added some steel to her voice. “I can take charge from here.”

The former cavalry officer stood and offered her a sharp bow. A slight smile creased his lips. “I’d wager you can at that, Miss Venable.” He moved behind Mister Barker-Finch’s chair and bent down to whisper something that sounded very like “If you leave, I’ll have your guts for garters.” The barrister now tutor’s expression never changed. Captain Atherton stopped to speak to Mrs. Collins and then he was gone. Mrs. Collins put aside her sewing and came to take the seat the captain had vacated. She had no sooner taken her seat than Mr. Barker-Finch turned to her and began to speak as if Lily were not in the room at all.

“Mrs. Collins, I have had perhaps the most singular morning of my life, which is saying a great deal.” His voice was rich and dark, but there was a brittleness to his tone that set Lily’s teeth on edge. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mrs. Collins made one of her infamous subtle hand gestures and Lily subsided into her chair and held her tongue.

“Indeed, Mister Barker-Finch?” Mrs. Collins said.

“Indeed. I was commanded to come here by one Lady Camilla with whom I am certain you are familiar. One does not naysay a command from that lady, if one is wise. However, I have yet to fully understand what is expected of me and why I must decamp from my own comfortable home and take up residence here. Perhaps you would like to—”

“Bollocks,” Lily announced as her blood flashed hot and then cold. “You know very well why you are here. Your tasks are simple, even for a man like you to understand.” She stood, fists on her hips. “You are to teach me to read so I will no longer be an embarrassment to the earl and should there be trouble, you are to make certain some ruffian neither kidnaps nor kills me.”

“I assure you—”

“Miss Venable, dear, please—”

Lily stepped to the bell pull on the wall next to the pink marble mantlepiece and tugged twice. Hard. “Thank you for your kind visit, Mister Barker-Finch. Having had to take on positions for which I had no talent or interest myself, I would never allow you to make the sacrifice of taking on a task in which you have no interest and even less skill. I wish you a pleasant evening, sir. Run along home and have your valet dress you for what I am certain are at least half a dozen ton events in alt in anticipation of your arrival.”

Slow Rutherford chose that moment to enter the drawing room as summoned. He gave Lily a bow and an inquiring look.

“Mr. Barker-Finch is leaving, Rutherford,” she said. “Please show him out.”

To her astonishment, Mr. Barker-Finch rose from his chair and smiled in such a way she might never have expected given his previous sullen disposition. He came to take her hand and bowed over the fingers he held with the utmost decorum and solemnity. She sensed a tremor, first in him and then in herself. When he straightened, his face was unreadable. In the next instant he was smiling, but his smile did not reach his eyes. An icy pang crossed her heart. She dismissed the sensation at once.

“Thank you for your gracious company, Miss Venable, which has been nothing less than I expected. And for my congé, which I assure you is even more welcome.” He turned to Mrs. Collins. “Please convey my regrets to Framlingwood and Lady Camilla, ma’am. I’m going to do as ordered, go home, and have my valet prepare me for an evening of mindless frivolity.”

He was halfway to the drawing room doors when Mrs. Collins spoke. “That may prove difficult, Mister Barker-Finch. Your belongings arrived here but half an hour before you. Mr. Forsythe arranged for them to be packed and delivered.”

The gentleman stopped mid-step, slowly turned and stared at Mrs. Collins in disbelief. Lily nearly burst out laughing at his expression, utter confusion mixed with a touch of terror. His smile gone, he glared at Lily. He opened his mouth to speak, apparently thought better of it, and turned back to address Mrs. Collins.

“My clothes are here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All of my clothes?”

“Yes, sir, as well as your books and the rest of your possessions. Mr. Forsythe wished for you to be comfortable. Your servants have closed up the house and will be conveyed to Lady Camilla’s country estate to serve until you have need of them again. A very capable man, a Mister Fitz, took charge of everything.”

“My valet, Davies?” Poor Mister Barker-Finch had gone a sickly shade of white. Lily glanced at Slow Rutherford and had to look away before they both started laughing.

“Sent on a repairing lease to Bath.” Mrs. Collins, face unreadable, folded her hands at her waist in the pose of the obedient servant. Who had just turned a learned barrister arse over teakettle. “Mr. Forsythe suggested the poor man was at the end of his tether and needed to rest.”

“You’ve robbed my house, stolen my servants, and kidnapped me, all to teach an actress to read?” He ran his hands through his hair, which left him looking like a man who had just climbed out of a woman’s bed after a night of debauched tupping. He’d delivered this oration as he crossed the Aubusson carpet to stand toe to toe with Lily. If he expected her to cower or back down, he was to be sadly disappointed. His valet wasn’t the only one at the end of his tether with the barrister Mister Barker-Finch.

“Not to worry, sir. I can solve at least one of these insults to your person immediately.” Lily pushed the barrister out of her way so hard he fell over an obliging tufted ottoman and landed flat of his back. She marched across the room and flung one of the drawing room doors open. “Which bedchamber, Rutherford?” She was halfway up the stairs from the foyer before the footman called after her.

“The earl’s chamber, across from your own, Miss Venable.” She’d climbed the stairs to the second floor by the time the scramble of multiple footsteps in the marble foyer informed her of someone mounting the stairs in pursuit.

She flung open the bedchamber door to find a series of trunks opened and waiting to be unpacked. Which Lily fully intended to do. She filled her arms with articles of clothing from one of the trunks and carried them out of the room to drop them over the second-floor balustrade into the foyer below.

“What the devil?” a deep male voice shouted from the foyer. “She’s mad. A madwoman from hell.”

“Don’t provoke her, Mr. Barker-Finch. Rutherford, hurry! For pity’s sake don’t let her take her knife to his clothes.”

“Knife?” an indignant voice shouted.

Lily gathered an armful of books from another trunk and dropped them down to join the clothes. A few solid thunks and cries of pain informed her a few of the tomes had found their mark. She returned to the clothes trunks and dropped down a series of exquisite, expensive jackets, followed by two pair of very fine boots by Hoby, if she wasn’t mistaken.

THUNK!

“Bloody hell, woman, are you trying to kill me? Those are my best boots.”

Rutherford entered the bedchamber, hand pressed to his side, gasping and laughing all at once. “Is this…wise…Miss? The earl hired him…won’t he be angry…if you send the man packing?”

“Do you want that pompous popinjay underfoot whilst we try to discover what has the earl so concerned?” Lily picked up an elaborate shaving case in one hand and some linen shirts in the other. She returned to the balustrade and looked down. Mr. Barker-Finch gazed up at her, devilish handsome and fully enraged.

“1, you vindictive hoyden. Do not drop that—Shite!” He raised his hands just in time to catch the shaving case only to be covered in white shirts like some child playing ghost the next moment. “Teach her to read? I’ll have to teach her not to behave like a fishwife first.” He started for the stairs. Mrs. Collins tried to stop him.

Lily let out a squeak of fear. The scramble of feet in the wall next to the balustrade signaled the other mistresses had been watching her entire performance. She ran down the corridor to the hidden inset door that led to the various tunnels throughout the five townhouses.

“Go,” Slow Rutherford whispered as he strode across the landing to meet Mr. Barker-Finch at the head of the stairs. Lily had no sooner pushed on the panel than a hand reached out and dragged her into the narrow passageway.

“Come along,” Margot whispered. “My house. Hurry.”

Lily stumbled along in the dark and wished she could see the barrister’s face when she appeared to have disappeared in the blink of an eye. She did suffer some guilt about leaving Rutherford and even Mrs. Collins there to mollify the man. With luck he’d be so angry he’d pack his own trunks and quit the house before supper.

They traveled down one narrow set of worn wooden stairs and spilled into Margot’s second-floor parlor where they collapsed onto various settees, chaises, and chairs howling with laughter.

“I cannot believe you tossed his clothes at him, Lily.” Adrienne sat up and offered her a jaunty salute. “That was worth returning from my wedding trip to see. Wait until I tell Obadiah.”

“Don’t you dare,” Lily said, and squeezed Adrienne’s hand. “Though I am so glad you are returned and happy. We have missed you and Sophia desperately.” She nodded at Sophia Hawksworth, now Sophia Norcross, who had recently returned from a brief stay in Brighton and had moved her new husband into Number Two Grosvenor Street, just two doors down from Lily’s own home.

“I agree,” Margot said as she rose and pulled the bell pull to send for tea and refreshments, a necessity anytime the Earl of Framlingwood’s mistresses managed to gather for a good gossip. “It has been deadly dull here lately, especially with Saida off to the Highlands with her handsome Scot.”

“Speaking of handsome,” Margot’s maid and lover, Gabriella, said. “Your new tutor is wicked handsome, Lily. Are you certain you wish to dismiss him?”

“He isn’t my anything, Gabriella. I didn’t engage his services. The earl did.”

“She shied books, boots, and some very expensive Weston jackets at him from a great height,” Adrienne said, and rolled her eyes at Gabriella. “Do you really think she’s pining to keep him? I thought he was horribly arrogant when he spoke with you in the drawing room, Lily. Too fond of himself by half, if you ask me.”

“Good Lord,” Lily glanced at each of them in turn. “You were all spying on us in the drawing room as well?”

“What is the use of secret passageways and hidden staircases if one cannot use them to spy on one’s dearest friends?” Sophia asked. “Although Margot nearly knocked me down the stairs when we ran from behind the drawing room wall up to the peephole behind that hideous painting on the landing.”

Margot tossed a small embroidered pillow at Sophia. “Well, you nearly smothered me when we were watching dear Lily decorate her foyer with her tutor’s wardrobe.”

“Yes, because you were laughing so hard I was afraid you would give us away.” Sophia tossed the pillow back.

“Now, girls,” Adrienne said and gave them a reproving stare. “Shall I have Obadiah look into this man’s affairs?” she asked Lily. “Margot is right about one thing. He is entirely too high-in-the-instep to allow himself to be hired out as a mistress’s reading tutor.”

“Don’t trouble Obadiah,” Lily said. “I expect him to be gone by morning. He’s convinced I’m a madwoman. Though I would love to know what inducements Lady Camilla used for him to even consider such a position.”

A knock at the door silenced their conversation. Young Rutherford backed in carrying a large tray loaded with the tea service and various pastries and confections from the selection Cook kept to hand at all times. Once they’d all helped themselves to their favorites and Adrienne had done the honors with the tea their conversation moved on to other things—wedding trips, their adventures at the Cyprian masquerade, speculation about the attacks they’d suffered and the earl’s silence on why he insisted on hiring bodyguards.

Lily did her best to keep the discussion away from the arrival and hopefully speedy departure of Mister Barker-Finch. She didn’t like the man at all nor did she like the way he kissed her hand. Or the way he gazed at her as if he knew her. She was still thinking of his unfathomable grey eyes when she and the other mistresses said their good nights and adjourned each to her own townhouse.

She awoke the next morning after a night of strange dreams of her past in Edinburgh, falling books and boots, and the way Mister Barker-Finch had glared up at her from the foyer with anger yes, but also something very like admiration. By the time her maid, Young Mary, had fetched hot water for Lily to wash and had helped her into a simple emerald green wool morning dress she was ready to face the day without giving the handsome barrister another thought. He’d likely left during the night or perhaps early this morning as his chamber door was slightly open and not a sound issued from within.

She made her way downstairs to the back of the ground floor where her private breakfast parlor looked out over her small but perfectly arranged back gardens. This was her favorite part of the day and the cozy parlor was one of her favorite rooms in the house. She smelled the enticing aromas of eggs, ham, and coffee before she even reached the door. Which probably accounted for her entering the room without noticing the scrape of a chair and the clearing of a distinctly masculine throat.

“Good morning, Miss Venable,” Mister Barker-Finch said as he rose from his chair and bowed. “I hope you’re ready for a good breakfast. You’ll need sustenance for this morning’s reading lesson.”

Shite!