Chapter 10

ten

R OYSTON GLANCED BEHIND him as he walked along the Serpentine, heading to the other side of Hyde Park. Angeline and her mother were still in the middle of the path, talking.

Damn. He hadn't expected to meet Angeline so soon. On second thought, it was better that way. He'd already made a faux pas by telling Angeline he wouldn't forget her. The remark had come out of his mouth unbidden. He didn't regret his honesty. Lady Redvers and Mrs. Haywood didn't need to know he wished to see Angeline again.

The encounter would have been the perfect excuse to say he would call on them. The more he thought about what had happened last night with North, the more worried he became.

He wanted to ask Angeline what her business with that man was, but he also simply wanted to spend more time with her. She had a fierce spirit he deeply admired. He liked her strength and unconventional attitude. He liked her sense of humour. He liked holding her, too. Her wild rose scent was delicious. And he couldn't care less about her scarred arm. Besides, he had scars on his soul uglier than any burn scars.

When Angeline and her mother disappeared behind a turn, he focused on his next meeting. He crossed the park and exited it, patting the thick envelope in his jacket. Carrying three hundred pounds while walking across London wasn't wise, but he didn't trust anyone.

A thief robbing him today would make a fortune, granted he managed to subdue Royston. He took a series of shortcuts and stopped in a quiet alleyway at Mrs. Walsh's door.

He knocked and waited, gazing around. The alleyway was dark but clean of rubbish or sewage. The houses close by weren't fancy but decent, with recently painted doors and pretty curtains at the windows. The shops were just around the corner. Mrs. Walsh couldn't have found a better location for her women's shelter.

The door swung inwards, and Mrs. Walsh came into view. "Good morning, my lord."

"Madam, good morning." He removed his hat.

Mrs. Walsh smiled, and a few wrinkles appeared around her eyes. "Lord Wharton, thank you for coming here. I didn't think you would come in person."

"I wanted to ask you personally how you were faring. I see you found great accommodation." He moved to enter, but she held up a hand.

"Apologies, my lord, but you must understand I can't let you inside." She stepped out of the house and left the door ajar. "Please don't be angry, but the women I provide lodging for in the house don't wish to see a man in a place where they feel safe."

"I understand. We can arrange for a different type of delivery in the future, but today, I wanted to talk to you." He searched the alley and pulled out the envelope. "I hope this helps. I'll send more as soon."

Mrs. Walsh took the money and curtsied. "Your generosity won't be forgotten, my lord."

"What else do you need?"

Her smile didn't reach her eyes this time. "Nothing. Your Lordship takes good care of us. I am able to rent this house thanks to you, my lord."

"Mrs. Walsh, I was born in a brothel. My mother would be alive if a place like yours had existed. Please be honest."

She hesitated. "Money helps, my lord, but things need to change from the head. We ask for laws that protect us and give us the opportunity to start afresh."

Ah, yes. Parliament. He didn't tell Mrs. Walsh that the head had no intention of changing.

He put his hat on, caught by a moment of sadness. No, more than sadness, it was a painful sense of impotence. The same sense of impotence he'd experienced when his mother had died. Or rather, when she'd been murdered. He hadn't done anything but watch and cry.

He rubbed an aching spot in his chest, wondering if he would ever overcome that sense of lack of power. He was a baron now, but he didn't feel powerful.

"If you need anything, send for me," he said, controlling the quivering in his voice.

"Thank you, my lord. Really. You do so much for us." She bobbed another curtsy before entering the house.

He wasn't doing enough. Aside from providing money, he couldn't do anything else. His title was useless from this point of view. Or maybe he didn't possess the skills to navigate politics.

A seat in Parliament was his goal when he'd realised that the combination of money and political power would give him the chance to help women like the ones in Mrs. Walsh's house, to do more than hand them money.

If he were in Parliament, he'd fight for those who raised a child on their own after a terrible past of abuse, poverty, or both. Charity could only do so much. And if he failed in the House of Lords, he would fight to raise awareness of the suffering of the fallen women until people would listen.

He walked back to the park, in the company of too many dark thoughts.

His mood didn't allow him to enjoy the sunshine glittering off the Serpentine. His steel factory was his pride, not only because of its impressive success. Many honest men and women from the rookery had found employment at Wharton Steel.

The factory had changed lives for the better, and he was finally doing something useful with his life, instead of stealing or throwing punches in an illegal ring. But Mrs. Walsh was right. Fallen women needed new laws and the government's intervention to change their circumstances. Something more than even a hero baron could offer.

"Wharton, fancy that."

Royston jolted at hearing Havisham's voice. "Havisham."

The earl's reddened face and short breath made Royston think Havisham had run to catch up with him.

Havisham took a few deep breaths, one hand on his hip. "I saw you coming out of an alleyway and called you, but you didn't hear me."

"I was lost in my thoughts."

"I was thinking about asking you for a meeting," Havisham said.

Not another meeting. "For what reason?"

"I understand I didn't make myself clear during our last conversation and that I might have offended you."

Instant tension tightened Royston's neck muscles. "You made yourself very clear. I don't need your money, Havisham, and I don't want to steal from anyone."

Havisham held up a hand. "I respect your decision, and I apologise for having offered you money you obviously don't need. I didn't mean to offend you."

Royston chose his words carefully because he couldn't forget Havisham's kindness. "Also, I'm sorry to say that I find it hard to believe Mrs. Haywood is capable of blackmailing anyone."

"Are you accusing me of lying?" The earl's voice hardened.

"I'm saying you might be mistaken or there's something else going on."

"She's a ruthless blackmailer, trust me. I'm sure she has a string of lovers she regularly blackmails." Havisham hesitated. "I have a new deal to offer."

"Havisham, please."

"My new offer isn't money. It's something more important for you." His icy blue eyes glinted as he came closer. "I offer you a seat in the House of Lords."

Blimey. That caught Royston off guard. "Do you have the power to grant me a seat?"

"I wouldn't have offered it otherwise. I'm the seventh Earl of Havisham and know the House of Lords well. I'll support your case and present it to the lords myself. I can assure my fellow peers will follow me once I support you, and I'll see that a seat will be yours. I just need you to help me."

Dammit. "But to have the seat, I have to retrieve the material Mrs. Haywood has on you."

"Exactly," Lord Havisham said. "I appreciate your moral reservation about taking something from Mrs. Haywood without her consent. I was unfaithful to my wife. I can't deny that. But Mrs. Haywood collected evidence against me and blackmailed me. I've walked away from the life of an adulterer. I want to take care of my children and my wife. Mrs. Haywood threatens to ruin everything my wife and I have built so far. Think about the consequences my family will face if Mrs. Haywood reveals what I did. My wife will be devastated, and her father will destroy me. My family will be torn apart. Please. I need your help and discretion."

Mrs. Haywood was undoubtedly doing something against the law and morally wrong. But Royston didn't believe he could right a wrong with another wrong. Years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to say yes. Now he wasn't so sure.

"What is more important, Wharton?" Havisham said. "Taking those bloody photographs or having the opportunity to help people?"

"Why are you offering the seat right now? Why not before?"

"I had no idea you wanted a seat. I spoke with Redvers at the ball. He was sorry because of a conversation he'd had with you and told me he could do nothing to help you." Havisham shrugged. "I assumed a seat held more value than money for you."

It did. "What will you do once you have those documents? What will happen to Mrs. Haywood?" Royston narrowed his gaze.

"Absolutely nothing," Havisham said. "I'm not interested in revenge or destroying her. Besides, she doesn't know I want to cut ties with her. She doesn't suspect anything at the moment. I gave her the last batch of money three days ago and pretended everything was fine. I won't see her again. In fact, I really don't care about what she does. I simply want her to stop blackmailing me. Believe it or not, I don't hate her, but I hate the leash she has on me. I want my life back."

Well, if Mrs. Haywood wouldn't be harmed by Havisham, and if Havisham wanted only to live a quiet life with his wife and family, then retrieving those documents might be worth it. Besides, should Mrs. Haywood find herself in financial trouble because Havisham didn't pay her anymore, Royston would be more than happy to help her.

Also, blackmailing was illegal and morally wrong. But… no. Despite all those valid reasons, he'd left his criminal past behind. He wouldn't become a thief again. He'd get a Parliamentary seat but on his own terms.

He touched the rim of his hat, his shoulders stooping. "I'm sorry, Havisham. I'm not in the trade anymore. I suggest you talk with Mrs. Haywood and find an agreement."

Havisham slouched. "Think about it. We'll talk again soon. "

"I wish you good luck. Good day."

Yet when Royston headed home, he wondered if he'd done the right thing.

The day was perfect for Angeline. Sunny weather, blue sky, just enough breeze to be pleasant. And for once, Mama, whose schedule was more busy than the queen's, had taken her to an intriguing social event. This time it was a festival held in Hyde Park with stalls of food, music, and competitions to raise money for charity.

Some important peers of the realm had been specifically invited, but the day was open to anyone who wished to participate in the games and donate money. Rowing, archery— that was interesting —cricket, and games of cards would keep the participants busy for the whole day.

But Mama's goal was to see Royston again and start her matchmaking game to pair him with Angeline. To be honest, Angeline wanted to see him, too. There had been no need to put too much effort into convincing her although she hadn't changed her mind about drugging him. Or accepting his money. Or having a tumble with him only to blackmail him later.

"Keep smiling." Mama twirled her parasol that matched her yellow gown.

"I can't smile for no reason."

"Society is always studying and judging. You must behave like a lady even when no one is watching you."

"Which sounds exhausting." Angeline searched the crowd for Royston.

He might have changed his mind and decided not to come although Mama had told her his presence had been confirmed. He hadn't looked particularly happy at Lady Redvers's ball. Maybe he didn't enjoy social events.

Angeline tilted her parasol to cover her face when she spotted Mr. North. He was heading to the boats on the Serpentine for the rowing race. After all, he had an affinity for water.

"Careful," Mama said. "The viscountess is coming with her plain, forgettable daughter."

Lady Redvers walked straight towards them. Her smile was nothing but a challenge. "We meet again, Mrs. Haywood, Miss Haywood. Such a pleasure."

Angeline curtsied. "Lady Redvers, Miss Taylor."

"Good morning." Miss Georgiana Taylor was a copy of her mother— same glossy brown hair and large brown eyes, but her features were softer and her smile more honest. "Such a lovely day." Even her voice was more musical than her mother's. Quite melodious.

Now that Angeline thought about it, she could swear Miss Taylor sounded exactly like the young lady with her pianist lover.

"My lady." Mama bowed her head gracefully as if her last encounter with the viscountess hadn't been abysmal.

"It's always nice to see some familiar faces." Lady Redvers gestured at the people crowding the meadow. "So many people here have no acquaintances among us peers, like you, Mrs. Haywood."

Miss Taylor and Angeline exchanged a glance.

"Quite the opposite, my lady," Mama said with no small amount of pride. "I have many friends among the peers. You'd be surprised by what I know about some members of the ton ." She laughed. "I'm joking, of course."

Angeline coughed politely in her fist, silently begging her mother to stay quiet.

"I was wondering whom you know," Lady Redvers said. "Because, pardon me, but you seem to appear at every party and ball."

Oh, Mama knew many of the nobility here at the festival, starting with Lord Havisham. She'd likely blackmailed a few gentlemen there at one point or another. Honestly, whom or how many, Angeline didn't want to know.

"I believe I've never asked what your late husband's trade was." Lady Redvers was obviously on a mission to discover Mama's secrets.

Well, good luck with that. Not even Angeline knew everything about Mama, and quite frankly, it was better that way.

Mama twirled her parasol with a nervous tweak. The viscountess had struck a nerve. "My dear husband traded in steel, just like Lord Wharton. The baron and I have a lot in common."

Goodness. Mama should inform Angeline of such lies. At least she'd be prepared to answer accordingly.

"Well—" Lady Redvers was interrupted by her daughter.

"Mother, Mr. Wright is going to play a sonata in the gazebo. You promised me we'd listen to his lovely music. Shall we go and see when his performance starts? I don't want to miss it."

Yes, definitely Miss Taylor was the woman behind the curtain, which meant Mr. Wright the pianist would be her lover, perhaps.

"I'll see you later, Mrs. Haywood, Miss Haywood," Lady Redvers said.

After another quick round of curtsies, the two ladies left.

"Talking about steel." Mama tilted her parasol to the side to get closer to Angeline. "Lord Wharton is over there, chatting with Lord Havisham."

"Where?" Angeline searched the meadow through the marquees, stalls, and gazebos and found Royston next to the refreshment table.

"I asked around," Mama said. "Many mothers have set their eyes on Lord Wharton as a possible suitor for their daughters."

"Oh, really?" Angeline scoffed. Ridiculous. Only because he owned a successful factory. No one really cared about who he was.

"He has the reputation of being grumpy."

"He isn't. He just feels uncomfortable among society." He also had a kind heart and gentle hands.

"Some say he isn't even handsome."

"Outrageous." Angeline was upset on his behalf. "He might have a rough type of beauty, but he's very handsome."

Mama laughed. "You like him. Excellent."

"Oh, Mama. You're incorrigible."

"I always do my research, and I'm glad you like him. Because I have plans."

Angeline shot her gaze skywards. "Of course, you have."

"According to my lady friends, Lord Wharton likes well-mannered ladies. Do not show him all your…" Mama waved a hand. "Athletic skills. You're a proper lady, all right?"

"What does that mean? That I can't participate in the archery competition?"

Mama grinned. "Quite the opposite. You will. I insist."

Angeline rubbed an aching spot on her forehead. "I don't understand you."

"I know. That's a problem. See, Lord Wharton signed up for the archery competition."

"Did he? How do you know that?"

"I told you. I do my research. Knowledge is power, my dear. Anyway, you're going to compete against him, and you're going to lose. You'll let Lord Wharton win. Men have big egos. The fastest way to conquer them is to let them believe they're wonderful, amazing achievers."

"I don't think you know the baron at all. He won't be impressed if I let him win, and I doubt he cares about losing."

Mama smiled as Royston tipped his hat at her. "You're wrong, darling. All men are the same. If you win, he'll detest you. If you lose, he'll adore you."

"I don't think so."

Mama's smile faltered. "Between you and me, who knows men the best?"

Dash it. "You, of course. But I know Royston better than you."

Mama's eyes brightened. "I like it when you use his Christian name. Good."

"Mama, please." She exhaled some of her frustration.

"Do you want to prove me wrong? Lose against him, and we'll see what happens."

"No. If I'm going to compete, I'll do my best to win." What a bother. Angeline flexed her fingers to warm them up. "I'm a jolly good archer, and I'll show my skill to everyone."

"Miss Haywood," Lady Redvers said from behind Angeline, causing her to jolt. "I apologise, but I couldn't help but hear what you were saying."

Angeline was sure the lady had eavesdropped on purpose.

"Don't tell me you mean to compete at the archery competition," Lady Redvers said. "Goodness, that would be quite inappropriate. I do hope your mother doesn't encourage you to perform such wild activities."

Mama's eyes became two obsidian blades. "I encourage my daughter to be happy and admired in whichever way she chooses to do that."

Not entirely true, but Angeline appreciated Mama's help.

Lady Redvers ignored her. "Miss Haywood, you're already old enough to be considered a spinster if you don't mind my frankness. You'll ruin your chances of finding a good match by behaving so recklessly. Besides, you'll only make a fool out of yourself." She let out a squeaky laugh that could crack glass.

That did it. Maybe Angeline was too sensitive. Maybe she had a temper; maybe she was a spinster, but she'd show Lady Redvers and everyone watching what she could do with a bow.