Chapter 12

twelve

A NGELINE'S CHEEK TINGLED pleasantly when she sat next to Royston to listen to the piano concert. The soft brush of his fingers had left a path of pleasant shivers on her skin, but his words had left a path of happiness and tenderness in her heart.

The gazebo where a grand piano sat was adorned with pink roses, and the rows of seats around it had pretty matching ribbons. Mama sat on Angeline's other side, a smug expression on her face.

If anything, Angeline had proved her wrong because Royston had been impressed with her archery skills. She still glowed about his praise. It didn't mean anything though. He wouldn't court her only because she was good with a bow. Oh, well, she didn't care. He wasn't interested in marriage anyway, and she enjoyed his company.

Lady Redvers and her daughter took the seats in front of her, chatting in whispers. Mr. Wright, a tall and thin man, bowed to the audience. His rich auburn hair and sparkling green eyes gave him a youthful look. He sat on the piano bench and began playing a beautiful, sweet piece.

"Which piece is this?" she whispered to Royston.

"Liszt, Liebestraum number three. It means love dream."

There wasn't a more fitting title for the beautiful music, and the piano player added a ridiculous amount of ache to it.

Now she understood why Mr. Wright was the best pianist at the moment. He had the uncanny power to capture those who listened and never let them go. She raised her gaze from the talented pianist and was surprised to find Royston staring at her with intense hazel eyes.

He smiled, long bronzed eyelashes fluttering. His harsh lines softened, and his boyish beauty shone. When he smiled like that, he didn't look harsh at all.

She couldn't help but smile back. With the music caressing them and the blowballs floating around, she could easily believe they lived in a fairy tale. She should feel uncomfortable about sharing such a long stare with a man, but instead, a sense of calm washed over her. In that quiet moment between them, the world seemed perfect.

She returned her attention to the pianist when the music ended and clapped with the rest of the audience.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said.

"One can't help but fall in love." He sounded so serious she wondered if he meant… no, of course he didn't.

Lady Redvers stood up, clapping. "Thank you, Mr. Wright, for your performance. Now my daughter Georgiana will play a Chopin's sonata."

Judging by how Miss Taylor turned the colour of turnips, she wasn't ready.

"Mother," Miss Taylor said.

"Don't be shy. Lord Wharton loves music, don't you, my lord?" Lady Redvers asked, half-turning around to see Royston.

Angeline held back a comment. What did Royston have to do with Miss Taylor's playing?

Royston rose as well. "I do, my lady."

"Go, darling." Lady Redvers almost shoved her daughter towards the gazebo.

Miss Taylor shuffled towards the piano. She exchanged a few words with Mr. Wright, who flushed a deep red, before she sat on the piano bench. She and Mr. Wright went through a stack of music sheets, talking in whispers.

"You'll see, my lord," Lady Redvers said. "Some young women like my daughter are skilled in delicate, tasteful forms of art. Other not-so-young women instead, alas, find pleasure in unladylike activities."

Like archery? Angeline clenched her fists in her lap.

"It's not a surprise if such women can't find a good match or any match at all," Lady Redvers continued, sitting down.

"I believe that every skill has its merit." Royston sat as well. "Especially if it comes from hard work and dedication."

Angeline mouthed, "Thank you."

"Does your daughter play the piano, Havisham?" Lady Redvers asked.

"Not really," the earl said. "But she loves cricket. Who knows, perhaps one day she'll be as skilled as Miss Haywood is with a bow." He gave her a polite nod.

"Thank you, my lord," Angeline said.

Lady Redvers straightened. "I guess cricket is better than archery."

Mama pressed her lips in a hard line. "I have to say?—"

Oh, heavens. Angeline gave her mother the slightest shake of her head. No arguing.

Mama cleared her throat. "Being good at something like archery doesn't exclude being good at other, more delicate activities."

"Besides, Lady Redvers," Lord Havisham said, "now that I think about it, Miss Haywood is an excellent piano player."

"What?" she said at the same time as Mama said, "Excuse me?"

Lord Havisham didn't flinch at the surprised tones. "I heard her playing. She sounds like an angel, true to her name. A professional."

Royston frowned.

"Oh, really? I'm eager to hear her play then." Lady Redvers sounded livid.

What in the blazes was happening? Angeline exchanged a glance with her mother who was speechless. Royston kept frowning.

"I'm sure Mrs. Haywood will be happy to organise a piano concert for us only." Lord Havisham angled towards Mama. "What do you say, Mrs. Haywood?"

It was the first time Angeline had seen her mother astonished.

When Mama swallowed and said, "Of course," Angeline knew she was doomed.

After the festival ended and Angeline had left in a hurry with her mother, Royston headed to the women's shelter. A jumble of different thoughts and feelings crammed his mind. The moments spent with Angeline had been the best, not only of the day but of the year. The worry about what her mother might be doing poisoned his happiness.

He paced in front of Mrs. Walsh's door, waiting for the lady to open. He'd always considered himself a good judge of people, but if what Havisham had told him was true, Royston had been wrong about Mrs. Haywood. Very wrong.

Blackmailing rich men who were unfaithful to their wives, as wrong as it was, was one thing, especially if Mrs. Haywood might not have had many choices in her life. But taking advantage of the misfortune of poor women was quite another.

"Lord Wharton." Mrs. Walsh curtsied. "Sorry to have made you wait. I didn't expect anyone."

"Madam, do not worry." He handed her another envelope filled with banknotes he'd hastily put together before coming.

Mrs. Walsh hesitated before taking it. "Thank you, my lord. A second donation so soon."

"Actually, I came here mostly to ask you something." And he hadn't wanted to come empty-handed.

"Anything, my lord."

"Did a Mrs. Haywood come here, asking to see the girls?"

Mrs. Walsh's peaceful expression hardened. "Oh, what a nasty visit, my lord. Yes, a woman came and introduced herself as Mrs. Haywood. Quite a refined lady. Dark hair, dark eyes. Very well-spoken and very pretty."

Royston's heart gave a solid kick of disappointment. "What did she want?"

"Honestly." Mrs. Walsh shook her head. "She wanted to recruit a few women who live in the house. She said she could pay well if the girls did a good job by…" She averted her gaze. "Well, Mrs. Haywood wanted to use the girls to meet some gentlemen in an intimate rendezvous. She was quite insistent about the idea of taking photographs of the girls with the gentlemen."

He passed a hand over his face. "Unbelievable. What did you say to her?"

Mrs. Walsh lifted her chin. "I told her to leave immediately. My guests have seen enough violence and abuse. They don't need more."

"Bless you, madam."

Mrs. Walsh wasn't finished. "When I asked her why she came here and not to a brothel, she had the audacity to say that she didn't want to recruit women from the trade because she'd need to share the income with the madam of the brothel." Her voice broke. "She said the girls here were cheaper since they didn't work for anyone."

"That's horrible. I apologise."

She smiled. "For what, my lord? You didn't do anything."

"I don't know, for the cruelty people are capable of." He almost jolted when she put a bony hand on his cheek in a maternal gesture.

She withdrew her hand. "We're lucky there are people like you who balance the unkindness."

No, he wasn't the damn hero everyone thought he was. "Thank you, madam. Please, should Mrs. Haywood return, send for me."

"My lord." She curtsied.

Royston bowed and dragged his sorry self towards Havisham's house. Mrs. Haywood was such a disappointment, and since he hadn't been sharp enough to understand how conniving she was, perhaps Angeline was the same.

No. His heart screamed she was innocent. Still, she had to know of her mother's activities. He wondered why she didn't protest against the recruitment of abused women.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and braved the cold wind blowing from the north and carrying a chilly drizzle. The day had started with bright sunlight, but it'd changed quickly, just like his mood.

Icy raindrops slid down his neck, causing his skin to pebble. By the time he arrived at Havisham's house, he was cold and drenched, and he didn't care. He could have hailed a cab, but he needed the air to clear his head. Not that it worked. His feelings were all over the place.

Havisham welcomed him into his warm and dry drawing room, eyeing him with suspicion. "Good Lord, what happened to you?"

"I went to see Mrs. Walsh." He brushed a wet curl of hair from his face.

"I see." The earl poured him a glass of brandy. "Here. You seem to need it."

He took the glass. "Mrs. Haywood… I can't believe it."

"She's a clever woman who would deceive the most skilled criminal." Havisham took a sip. "The private detective informed me Mrs. Haywood keeps a list with the names of those women whom she employs. They're at her beck and call, constantly threatened by her."

"How did he discover that?"

Havisham plopped down on the armchair. "Because he talked with a girl who was blackmailed by Mrs. Haywood. That woman is a menace."

Royston nursed his drink. "Bloody hell."

"I've been in Mrs. Haywood's house a few times when she was alone. I noticed a filing cabinet in her personal study. I've seen her myself stashing important papers in there. I hate being insistent, but if you search her study, you won't simply recover the material she has on me and give me back my life. You'll have the opportunity to search for Mrs. Haywood's list of girls, those girls she exploits for her games because surely, you aren't na?ve enough to think she tried to recruit only Mrs. Walsh's women."

He couldn't swallow the brandy.

Havisham took Royston's arm. "You could save them all. You could help them get away from their miserable lives and find a proper job. I don't need to tell you how many of those women die every month from starvation and diseases."

A sickening lump crawled into Royston's throat. Mrs. Haywood had to be stopped.

"What's the plan?"

"Remember the little scene at the festival when I mentioned an event where Miss Haywood could exhibit her skill at playing the piano?"

"Yes?"

"That event is going to help us. I'm going to talk to Mrs. Haywood immediately." Havisham smiled. "I have an idea."