“I wish I knew who she was,” Charlotte Smythe declared. “I’d have Col go to fetch her money. Lord Daedalus be damned.” The famous chess mistress was affianced to Bow Street’s most successful Runner, Archer Colwyn. Cordelia wouldn’t mind having his assistance if—Wait! Lord Daedalus?Two of the ladies had referred to her publisher asLord Daedalus. Her head began to spin.
“Lord Daedalus?” Her voice cracked a bit. “The owner of Forbidden Pleasures bookshop, the shop on Holywell Street, is a member of theton?” Cordelia gave up all hope of sounding disinterested. Perhaps they would believe she was eager for more gossip. At this point she’d rather be known as a gossip than asAn Insatiable Lady.
“Oh yes,” Julia Amherst said. “Lord Daedalus Whitcombe, brother and heir to the Duke of Chelmsford. Didn’t you know?”
“No. I didn’t know.” She stuffed the macaron from her plate into her mouth and chewed vigorously to keep the series of vulgar, unladylike words going through her mind from spilling from her lips.
“Cordelia has only recently returned to Town,” Lady Honoria explained. “She’s been away for several years. Your father was ill, was he not?”
She swallowed hard and smiled. “Five years, yes. We’ve been rusticating in Surrey whilst Father recovered his health. My brothers and I have only lately come up to Town for the Season.” A duke’s brother. Her publisher was a bloody duke’s brother who intended to force her to reveal her identity by withholding money she’d rightfully earned. Her temper went from simmer to boil. The assistance of the Bow Street runner looked better and better the more she fumed, though she didn’t have any notion of following through. Her publisher might need the man’s help before this latest hurdle in her life was crossed.
The conversation turned to the missing page from her book. The other ladies made quick work of reading the conclusion ofAn Insatiable Lady’slatest bedchamber adventures. They were eager to discuss her work. Even more eager to speculate on the contents of her next book. She allowed their conversation to flow around her whilst she contemplated her publisher’s demise by increasingly gruesome means. By the time she had beaten him unconscious with a copy of Fordyce’s sermons and tossed him into the Thames the other ladies were making ready to leave. Cordelia gathered her book and reticule and hurried toward the entrance hall of Lady Camilla’s townhouse. She’d already begun a list of things she must do in the next few hours to secure her identity and deal with her scheming publisher.
“Are you quite well, my dear?” Lady Camilla placed a stilling hand on Cordelia’s arm. The other ladies had made their farewells and were bustling out the front door still discussing naughty novels, Charpentier’s macarons, and men who were slow to learn the futility of backing an independent woman into a corner.
“Yes, of course,” Cordelia said too quickly. “Do I appear unwell?”
“Somewhat. Yes, you do. Is there something amiss with your charity work?” Lady Camilla’s expression was nearly impossible to discern. Her questions were innocent enough, but sounded almost as if her intent was to ask something far more personal.
“My charity work?” Her mind raced. What did this deceptively harmless maven of society know, worse what did she wish to know? Lady Camilla’s access to the secrets of thetonand how she acquired them was legend.
“I know about the Seven Dials women you are aiding. Such work cannot be easy for an unmarried gentlewoman.”
Cordelia slowly, ever so slowly released the breath she’d been holding. “Mister Carrington-Bowles told you.”
“That you brought one of your Seven Dials girls to his infirmary after the cock-bawd she left found her and had some bully boys beat her senseless? Yes, Lionel told me. He is most impressed with your efforts.”
“I am more impressed with his, my lady. The time he spends in The Dials already means a great deal to the people who live there.” Cordelia had discovered his efforts only a few weeks before and already his reputation amongst London’s least favored citizens was whispered of in the streets and alleys. She had been fortunate to find his infirmary the day she’d discovered Polly O’Hara in a crumpled heap behind The Bucket of Blood on Rose Street. Carrington-Bowles was one of the wealthiest gentlemen in London, but he chose to provide an infirmary and medical care in one of the most dangerous parts of the City. Cordelia counted her work as little next to his efforts.
“Do not allow her to start on our Lionel’s virtues, miss, or you will be here until supper if not beyond.” A dark-haired slender young man sauntered up the corridor to kiss Lady Camilla’s cheek. She swatted at his arm, but gazed at him with such fondness Cordelia felt a pang of longing for her own Mama.
“Miss Cordelia Perriton, may I make known to you Mister Nathaniel Charpentier, scoundrel and chef extraordinaire. Nathaniel this is Miss Perriton, a member of my literary society and the brave young woman who is working to help some of the unfortunate ladies of Seven Dials.”
Lady Camilla’s introduction brought a heated flush to Cordelia’s face. She’d never sought to hide her efforts. Her brothers had tried. If Lady Camilla knew, who else in society did? Her work as a writer and her work in Seven Dials were entangled far too closely for too many people to learn all the details. She offered Mister Charpentier her hand.
“CB spoke of your work in Seven Dials only yesterday,” he said as he bent over her hand. As he straightened he gave Cordelia a wink. “He did not mention, however, your membership in her ladyship’s literary society.” He tapped the copy ofA Banquet of Base Desiresunder Cordelia’s arm. “May I compliment you on your taste in books? This one is already a favorite of mine. CB favors it as well, even with the missing final page.”
“Atherton’s bride has brought us the final page,” Lady Camilla said. “She managed to have it from Whitcombe’s own hands.”
“Well done, Lady Honoria.” A baby’s cry from one of the floors above drew the chef’s immediate attention. “One of my mistresses calls, and I obey. Miss Perriton, it has been a pleasure.”
“The pleasure was feasting on your brilliant pastries whilst we ladies read and conversed,” Cordelia replied.
He executed a sharp bow, kissed Lady Camilla once more, and bounded up the stairs.
“The infant girls he and Mister Carrington-Bowles have taken as their wards?” Cordelia asked as she followed his progress toward the sound of the crying babe.
“Yes,” Lady Camilla said, her expression suddenly deep in earnest. “They have taken the girls on together, as their children.” There was an unspoken truth in those words. A truth Cordelia understood at once.
“Then they are fortunate girls indeed to have two such loving and devoted papas.”
“The moment Honoria introduced us I knew I liked you, Miss Perriton.” Lady Camilla looped her arm through Cordelia’s and led her to the front door which a footman quickly opened. “Are you certain you will not tell me what has you so discomfited?”
Cordelia smiled, though she feared her expression was more of a grimace. She wanted to tell someone. Secrets, those as monumental as the one she kept, or perhaps the secret that kept her, grew heavier the longer one carried them about like a packed portmanteau. No, there was already one person too many interested in her secret. She’d have to take care of him first, before sharing her hidden identity with anyone else.
“I am perfectly fine, Lady Camilla, I assure you. Only a little concerned about Polly O’Hara, the girl your nephew helped, but I am certain to set everything to rights soon.”
“Of course,” Lady Camilla replied. “Our worries are nothing compared to what awaits Lord Daedalus when he meetsAn Insatiable Ladyface to face. How I would love to be a mouse in the corner when that happens. Wouldn’t you?” The wily old woman waved her off with an enigmatic smile. Cordelia made no reply, but hurried across St. James Square to her family’s townhouse which she currently shared with her three brothers. Time enough to fret over what Lady Camilla knew or did not know later. How had her life suddenly grown so complicated?
