Chapter 30

Escaping The King’s Purse was almost disappointingly easy. There were no guards by her door and none at the bottom of the servant stairs.

Indeed, the entire house had seemed almost eerily empty.

Fearing that Fast might come to Freddie’s house searching for her, Lori decided to seek refuge with her friend Serena, who’d not long ago married the wealthy industrialist, Gareth Lockheart. The couple maintained a London residence even though they were rarely in the city.

The Lockhearts’s housekeeper, Mrs. Poole, recognized Lori immediately. “Naturally I remember you, Miss Fontenot. Mrs. Lockheart has standing instructions that a room be kept ready and waiting for any of her friends who choose to visit.” She took Lori’s valise and cloak. “Are you hungry? It wouldn’t take but a quarter of an hour to have something for you. Nothing fancy, mind, but something good and filling.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Poole, although that is very kind. Just some hot water so that I might have a wash, and perhaps some tea. But don’t let me interrupt your dinner, afterward is fine.”

“Bless you, child,” the old housekeeper said with an amused chuckle, “Poole and I finish with our meal before the sun even begins to go down. Let me take you up to the blue room and get you settled in and then I’ll have your water and a tray sent up.”

Lori loved the old couple who ran Serena’s London house, but right now she just wanted to be alone.

Fortunately, Mrs. Poole—accustomed to Gareth Lockheart, one of the most taciturn people Lori had ever met—was used to serving people who had no desire to chatter, and soon left Lori alone in the comfortable suite of rooms.

Once she’d had a wash and drank three cups of tea, she felt more human, but no less miserable.

The night seemed interminable, and she tossed and turned in the comfortable bed, alternately fearing that Fast would find her or that he’d not even bother looking.

By the following morning, she decided that she had behaved far too dramatically not going home.

The truth was that Lord Stand Fast Severn didn’t care that she had gone. Indeed, he was probably overjoyed to be spared the irritation of having to tell her about his betrothal to Miss Pascoe and ask her to leave.

And so, after she had broken her fast, Lori took her leave of the kindly Mr. and Mrs. Poole and went home.

It was something of a shock when she opened the door to the parlor and Freddie smiled up at her. “Oh, you’re back,” she said, looking not at all surprised to see her.

That was when Lori remembered that she had supposedly written to her friend and that Freddie had no clue that Lori had spent the last two weeks in a brothel.

Before she could compose her face, Freddie was on her feet, heading toward her with outstretched hands. “Lori? Whatever is the matter?”

Without any warning—either to herself or to Freddie—Lori burst into tears for the second time in less than a week.

Freddie took her in her arms and gently comforted her while the storm raged. Once her calm friend had soothed Lori to the point of hiccupping and sniffing rather than wailing and sobbing, Freddie stood and crossed the room to pull the servant cord before rejoining Lori on the settee.

“I will order some tea,” Freddie explained.

Lori nodded.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you for listening to my sniveling.”

“That is what friends are for. You can tell me why you had to snivel once we have tea. I suspect we will need it.”

Lori gave a watery chuckle. “As always, you are right. I will need to fortify myself before I commence my confession. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what has happened while I’ve been gone.”

Freddie was in the middle of describing the most recent scandal—two well-known widows who’d actually come to blows over the same man—when the door opened, and Mrs. Brinkley entered carrying a tea tray.

The housekeeper laughed when she saw their startled faces. “I saw you when you came in, Miss Lorelei. I knew what you’d need before her ladyship even rang.”

“Oh, Mrs. Brinkley!” Lori said, yet again choked up. “You two are both so good to me. You’re going to make me start blubbering all over again.”

Freddie patted her shoulder and said, “You cry as much as you want. Everyone needs a good blubber on occasion.”

It was so like Fast’s words from the other night that her eyes prickled dangerously.

Once the housekeeper had departed and they each had a cup, Lori begged Freddie to join her in splitting a cake.

“I know you are still out of sorts when you can’t even eat a whole one,” Freddie chided, dabbing her lips delicately after a bite of the decadent cream cake. “Now. Tell me what happened.”

Lori tried to organize her thoughts—as if she were pitching the idea for a story to David—but the moment she opened her mouth, it all came pouring out in a rush.

Not just everything that had happened these last two weeks, but even her mortifying history with Lord Dorian.

She ended her tale of woe with the article in today’s newspaper.

“Is it true about Lord Severn’s betrothal to Miss Pascoe, Freddie?” Lori asked. ‘Or could I have misunderstood the announcement?”

“I’m sorry, Lori, but I’m afraid it is the truth. That wretched Mr. Pascoe approached me again. He offered me so much money to plan the wedding breakfast that I couldn’t turn him down.” She saw Lori’s look of horror. “Of course, now that I know about you and his lordship, I shall cry off and tell Pascoe—”

“ No, you most certainly will not!” Lori interrupted. “That will do nothing for me and will only ruin your reputation. Please,” she added when her friend opened her mouth to argue.

Freddie finally sighed but nodded. “Very well.”

“When are they to marry?”

“In three weeks’, time. As soon as the banns have been read.”

Any hope that Lori had been clinging to disintegrated. “Three weeks,” she repeated hollowly.

“Lori, darling?”

“Yes?” Lori said, barely able to squeeze the word out.

“Am I wrong in thinking that you would like to marry Lord Severn?”

Lori bit her lip, struggling to get control of her emotions, which were rioting like a flock of chickens being savaged by a fox.

“I love him, Freddie,” she said, her voice breaking. “Even now that I know what a vile, duplicitous rat he is.” Thankfully, she didn’t dissolve into tears again. “I—I’m ashamed to say that I would have abandoned all my so-called principles in a heartbeat for him.” She gave a bitter laugh.

“Oh, Lori. I am so sorry. I used to envy you for your position on marriage. It seemed so—”

“Safe?” Lori guessed.

Freddie nodded.

“I suppose I thought so, too. It turns out that there is no safety. At least not if a woman wants to live in the world and not in a cave out in the middle of a swamp.”

Freddie smiled sadly. “What will you do now?”

“I’ll finish my new book and then try to sell it.”

“Please tell me you will continue living here while you do. You don’t need to leave because you’re not working for that dreadful Parker. You have always believed that I am doing a favor for you , but the reverse is also true. A single woman living alone is prey to—” She broke off and bit her lip, a scowl suddenly marring her ice queen facade. “That man who works for Lord Severn—”

“Has Mr. Gregg been bothering you?” Lori demanded.

A delicate flush spread across Freddie’s cheeks like a pink mist. “Well, bothering is rather harsh . But he does seem, er…”

“Interested in you?”

Freddie nodded.

“Has he been inappropriate or—”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Freddie gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “In any case,” she said, before Lori could delve further. “I really wish you would stay.”

“Oh, Freddie. I just can’t be here right now—at least not for the next three weeks.”

Freddie knew what she meant without Lori having to put it into words. “Why don’t you go and visit Portia? Or I know Annis would love to see you.”

Both Portia and Annis were dear friends from their teaching days. Both women had often invited Lori to visit. But…well, right now she didn’t want to be with friends. She wanted to be alone in a cave, where she could lick her wounds. That wasn’t possible, but she would look for the next best thing.

Lori smiled at Freddie. “Now would be a terrible time to visit. Portia is caught up with the twins and Annis is all but a newlywed. So is Miles,” she said before her friend could suggest him.

But Freddie wasn’t beaten, yet.

“I have been thinking of taking a place in Brighton this summer, Lori. Perhaps you might go down there and investigate what is available in advance?”

Lori laughed. “I will not allow you to put yourself into debt leasing a house in Brighton just to save my pride. I am going to visit my brother. It has been ages. The girls will all be unrecognizable.” Indeed, it grieved her greatly how much of her nieces’ childhoods she’d already missed out on thanks to her avoidance of scaly men such as Lord Dorian and Daniel Fenton.

“Is that wise, darling? I know you were most unhappy there. And now, after you’ve told me the reason you fled Moorcross…Well, I cannot blame you for avoiding the place for so long. Are you sure you—”

“I need to face my demons. I can’t run every time I make a foolish decision.” She gave a bark of unamused laugher. “There will soon be no place left for me in Britain if I do that. Besides, you need to—to plan this wedding. And also finish launching the twins.”

“Oh, did I neglect to mention they have both accepted offers?”

“Freddie! Congratulations.”

Freddie smiled wearily. “I hope they are happy. Rose accepted Viscount Dorset—who is a kind, sweet boy. But poor Lily is marrying Baron Sterling.”

“Lord! Sterling must be forty.”

“Try one-and-fifty.”

Lori hissed. “That should be illegal.”

“Her fond papa is not forcing her. Lily wants the marriage, the social-climbing little minx.”

“Well, it must be a weight off your mind to have them both off your hands. Will you manage their weddings?”

“No, that I will not do.” She waved her hand. “But I don’t want to talk about the twins. When will you go, Lori?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why so soon?”

Lori shrugged. “There is nothing to keep me here.”

“What about Parker? Can you just leave without giving him any notice—not that the wretched man deserves the courtesy.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you that part. I went to see him directly after leaving The King’s Purse”—she felt her face heat at saying the brothel’s name but ignored it— “and I stopped at The Mercury offices this morning, and both times the door was locked and there was nobody there, not even his secretary. Indeed, the man seems to have disappeared into thin air.” With her manuscript, but Lori didn’t bother mentioning that.

“Shouldn’t you at least stay until you can speak to him and retrieve your manuscript?”

“I would like it back, but I had the sense to make a copy of it—a tedious process I now am grateful for—after talking to Mr. Keats.” She paused and then added the real reason she wanted to be gone so quickly, “I don’t want to be here if Lord Severn should come looking for me.”

And worse, she didn’t want to be there if Severn didn’t come.

***

As much as Lori dreaded going back to Moorcross, she was thrilled to see her family again.

All of them—her brother Jeremy, his wife Sarah, and their five daughters, from fifteen to four—were waiting at the coaching inn to greet her when she arrived on the stage.

There was squealing and weeping and laughing and Lori floated back to the vicarage on a cloud of family love and affection.

Lori’s first three days at the vicarage were pure heaven, and she spent every minute getting reacquainted with her family. She had only ever seen young Gwendolyn, her brother’s youngest child, at her christening almost five years before. Of all her brother’s daughters Gwen looked most like Jeremy and Lori. She had the same dark, wiry hair and green eyes while her other nieces were the very image of their pretty auburn-haired, blue-eyed mother.

Not until the fifth day did the outside world come crashing back in, when her brother brought a copy of the World Examiner home.

“Sir Matthew remembered how much you enjoyed reading the newspapers and sent this along after my visit today.”

Few people could afford a subscription to a newspaper, so passing the copies from person to person was common. Sir Matthew, a kind man, also had the misfortune to be Daniel Fenton’s father.

Lori glanced at the well-thumbed newspaper as if it were a fresh turd. “How kind of him.”

Jeremy laughed. “You needn’t wrinkle your nose. I know it’s not your precious Times , but it’s better than nothing, hmm ?”

“Yes, of course,” she muttered.

Lori held off opening the World Examiner for a record two days. That meant she’d not read any news from London for a week . An unprecedented dry spell from news these past seven years.

“You are picking up that newspaper as if you wished you had tongs,” Sarah teased.

It was a Saturday evening and the family had retired to what Sarah called the Great Room , a name that was more wishful thinking than accurate.

Lori smiled tightly and turned immediately to the back section.

Jeremy—who was watching her rather than working on his sermon, which is what he was supposed to be doing—chuckled. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I’d not seen it with my own eyes.”

“What?” she rudely demanded.

“Is this really my sister turning to the society section of a newspaper?”

She scowled at him. “Shouldn’t you be busy working on words to inspire the masses tomorrow morning rather than scrutinizing my reading habits?”

“Touchy,” he murmured, but slid his reading spectacles back down and returned to his labors.

Georgie, her second youngest niece, popped up beside Lori’s chair. “Will you play a game of Spillikins, Auntie Lori?”

Lori smiled. “I’d love to. You play Clara, first, and I’ll play the winner.”

Once everyone was occupied, Lori took a deep breath and marched through the various snippets of nauseating gossip, not breathing normally until she’d gone all the way through to the end.

Thankfully, there was nothing at all about Miss Pascoe or Fast. Indeed, it seemed to be an especially dull week for gossip. Lori could only assume that was because the Season was winding down.

She sighed and tossed the paper aside, feeling a great deal like a soldier who had just dodged a bullet.

But that Sunday, Lori had to face not only one bullet, but a veritable barrage.

Lord Dorian, his wife, and three perfect children had recently arrived to visit Dorian’s mother and father—the Earl and Countess of Seton. Of course he wasn’t the only unwanted face from her past; there was also Daniel Fenton, who still lived with his parents.

Jeremy had insisted that Lori stand beside him while he’d greeted his flock. “They are all eager to see you,” he said, using guilt to get her to comply.

Dorian had merely nodded loftily at her while he’d ushered his family past on his way out of the church.

But Daniel had obviously relished an opportunity to talk to her. “I heard you’ve been here almost a week, Lori. Where have you been hiding?” His lips curled into an unpleasant smirk.

Before she could answer Jeremy narrowed his eyes at the younger man. “It has been a long time since my sister’s last visit, and we have been selfishly keeping her to ourselves.”

Daniel met what Lori thought of as Jeremy’s fire and brimstone gaze and his smile dimmed. “Yes, yes, of course you are,” he muttered, stepping out of the way to allow his father—who really was a dear old man—to greet her.

“What a delight to see you again, Lorelei,” Sir Matthew gushed, his bright blue eyes sparkling with good humor. “I do hope you will accompany the vicar the next time he comes to call so we can have one of those lively conversations we used to enjoy. I have missed your newfangled opinions about female suffrage, my dear.”

Lori bit her tongue rather than point out that most of the arguments she’d posed had been around for years. “I would like that, Sir Matthew,” she lied.

“I’ll send over a few newspapers this afternoon so you can enjoy a Sunday treat, what?”

“Thank you, sir. That is very kind.”

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jeremy murmured as the last of his flock wandered back to their individual pastures.

Not as bad as having sand rubbed in my eyes.

“No, not bad at all.”

“I can’t say that I liked the way Daniel Fenton was leering at you. That is one young man I cannot like. And today he was looking even slimier than usual.”

Lori laughed. “How un-vickarish of you, Jer!”

Jeremy pulled a face. “That observation should stay between the two of us,” he murmured, and then said more forcefully, “It is wonderful to have you back, Lori. I have missed you more than you can know.”

Sir Matthew continued to send over newspapers and Lori—against her better judgement—continued to read them. They were filled with stories that were almost uniformly bland and boring, except for one shocking piece of news regarding Lord Moreland’s death.

Evidently, the earl had died in a fire, but his death had gone unnoticed for some time. His lordship’s servants in London had believed he’d gone up to Yorkshire to his estate, while his Yorkshire staff believed he was in London.

It transpired that he was at neither place. Instead, his lordship had paid a rare visit to one of his minor holdings. He had been inspecting a barn of some sort and must have been overwhelmed by smoke when a fire started.

It was fortunate that his signet ring had been found in the rubble or his death might have remained a mystery.

Lori felt sorry for anyone who suffered such a miserable end, but if there was one person who deserved it, it would be Moreland, the serial rapist.

She imagined that Fast would be relieved to learn the man was dead.

As for Fast himself, she had not read a word. And not for a lack of looking, either. Indeed, she’d scoured every newspaper the squire sent over and had even purchased one of her own at exorbitant expense in the village. Nowhere did she see the announcement of his marriage to Miss Pascoe.

That was odd as the banns would have been read the requisite three weeks and Mr. Pascoe had clearly been eager to secure his quarry.

Lori was tempted to write to Freddie, not just to ask about the wedding, but because she had not heard from her friend since the first week of her stay. Freddie’s only letter had been brief in the extreme. It had also been carefully crafted, clearly composed with the intention of making no mention of the wedding . It was passing strange that that had been Freddie’s only letter as she was usually a diligent correspondent.

If Lori didn’t receive a letter in tomorrow’s post—which would mark more than three and a half weeks in the country—she’d swallow her pride and write to ask Freddie for details of Fast’s wedding.

As if thinking about the post had summoned it, her brother opened the door to the small sunroom where Lori was in the habit of writing most mornings.

“This is for you,” he said, handing her a letter and eying her curiously.

Lori understood why when she saw who the sender was: W.H. Newcastle & Sons.

She made a mortifying gulping sound as she stared at the copperplate writing on the envelope, which shook in her trembling hand.

“That’s a very respected publisher, is it not?” Jeremy asked.

Lori nodded dumbly. She was amazed that David had actually sent her manuscript to W.H. Newcastle—for that is the only reason she’d have a letter from them because Lori had been far to cowardly to approach such a prestigious publishing house.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

She shook her head.

Jeremy laughed and sat down beside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so terrified, Loribell.”

She looked up at the old nickname. “I can’t open it, Jer.” She thrust the envelope at him. “Will you read it? And if it is dreadful… Well, if it is dreadful, don’t say anything. Just burn it.”

He took the letter without speaking, his eyes moving quickly over the sheet, his expression giving nothing away before he looked up and said, “May I read it to you?”

Lori was finding it impossible to speak, so she jerked out a nod.

“Dear Miss Fontenot,

I am writing in regard to the manuscript titled, Briarly. I apologize that it has taken me so long to respond. I received your book several weeks ago but was unexpectedly called out of the City before I could draft this letter to you. I’m pleased to inform you that I began reading on a Monday afternoon and did not stop until sometime early Tuesday morning—”

Lori shrieked.

Jeremy looked up. “Lori?”

“Keep reading,” she barked.

Her brother grinned. “It is my pleasure to offer you a contract for the publication of Briarly, which we would likely release in three volumes. We can offer you ￡ 150, the terms to be discussed in more detail if you deign to accept.

I understand that you’ve been employed by David Parker at The Mercury and therefore will understand if he already made arrangements for your manuscript before he closed his paper and left the country.

In any event, I look forward to hearing from you, should you be interested in our offer.

Respectfully,

W. H. Newcastle”

Jeremy finished reading and looked up. “Well? Isn’t this a matter for celebration?”

Lori shook her head, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Whyever not?” he demanded.

“No, I didn’t mean it’s not cause for celebration,” she clarified. “I was shaking my head because I can’t believe David Parker left the country—and why has there been no mention in any of the newspapers I have read of him closing The Mercury ? And if David didn’t give Briarly to Newcastle, then who did give it to him?”

“I don’t know. But does it really matter at this point?” He grinned. “You’ve received an extremely respectable offer to publish your book.”

Lori could hear the words, but she couldn’t quite believe them.

Jeremy put a hand over hers. “I suppose this means you will be leaving us soon, doesn’t it? I do hope you won’t stay away so long before your next visit?”

She heard the sadness in his voice, and it penetrated the fog of shock surrounding her. Lori smiled at her brother, squeezing his hand. “No. I will never stay away so long again.”

“Why did you stay away, Lori?” He chewed his lip, the gesture so familiar it gave her a sharp pang. “Something happened to you here, didn’t it?” His mouth turned down at the corners. “Something with Lord Dorian—or Daniel Fenton?”

“It was a long time ago.”

His hand tightened painfully. “Did either of them—”

“No, Jeremy. It was nothing like that. Really,” she assured him when he continued to look skeptical. “I left because I’d outgrown Moorcross and it was time to stretch my wings. I needed to go away from here and seek my fortune.”

His jaw worked for a moment, and she feared he might pursue the issue. But he must have sensed her reluctance, so he smiled and said, “So, then. When are you leaving us?”

“I’ll stay until your next service and then leave on the following Monday. There’s no—”

The door to the parlor flew opened and Sarah stood on the threshold, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

Jeremy shot to his feet. “Is something wrong, Sarah? The girls—”

“No, no, the girls are all fine,” she said, her gaze fixed on Lori. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there is a visitor for you.”

“A visitor?” Lori and Jeremy said at the same time.

“It is Lord Stand Fast Severn,” Sarah said in an unnaturally high and squeaky voice. She looked from Lori to Jeremy and back again, as if she were struggling with something, and then she burst out in a gleeful voice, “The King of the Rakes is at this very moment in my very own sitting room!”