Love Between the Lines (18 page)

“
You needn’t scowl at me. I did promise it’s not an insult, my lord. Why would anyone want to be a surprise? So many of those are unpleasant.” Like suddenly discovering someone was engaged to be married.

The tension around his eyes relaxed slightly.
“Do you always say exactly what you think?”

“
The alcohol helps,” she admitted. “I think I should go home. I hope Mrs. Pruitt hasn’t tossed my belongings from the house.”

Of course Lord Petersly insisted on escorting her home. They rode in silence until the carriage halted in front of her house. As he helped her down, he drawled, “Have you more criticisms of my behavior?”

“
Good heavens, you’re still annoyed that you don’t startle me? I don’t know why you think that was criticism. Surprising people are most uncomfortable to be around.”

“
Don’t think I don’t notice you haven’t actually answered. Do you have any more negative observations?”

“
I have no right to criticize anyone.”

“
Still you don’t deny it?” He grabbed her gloved hand and wouldn’t let go. “Tell me what else you think.”

She lost her temper as she tried to pull back
and he kept his firm grip. “Very well. You are obviously obstinate and spoiled. When you’re snubbed, you tend to behave in a rather childish manner. As you did with Oyster.”

His mouth opened. Then
he closed it. He gave a short gruff laugh. “I was about to say something rather unpleasant, but that would prove your point, damn you to hell.”

She suspected h
e must be seriously upset to use such language around a female, and she chose to remain quiet.

Thank goodness, he
got back into his carriage and left without making sure she made it inside. She watched the carriage for a moment and wondered what had gotten into the man. Perhaps too much drink. If she carried on with this scheme, she’d have to watch her own intake.

In her family
’s circle, women couldn’t easily imbibe alcohol, but this society seemed less restrictive—or perhaps it was a matter of which event she attended. Something else to note. She’d have to follow the rules she made for herself. That was the way she lived her life in the past, and it was time to return to what she knew.

When she got to her room,
Lizzy lit a candle and wrote notes from the ball. When she stared at the candle, she remembered the banks of them, the way the light sparkled on ladies’ diamonds as she danced with Sir Gideon. She remembered the way he made her laugh and the lemon-and-starch scent of him, and paused before she actually wrote those descriptions. She scribbled pages and pages, then laid down her pencil with a sigh. It was something of a struggle to strip off the gown designed to be removed by a maid. Wonderful to have so much work finished, though, she thought as she pulled up the covers around her neck. These articles would take no time at all. She fell asleep with a sense of a job well done, even if she had annoyed her accomplice, Lord Petersly.

That feeling of accomplishment vanished at once the next morning when she
discovered that she’d written about the lovely music, descriptions of the ballroom and the beautiful gowns—including an anonymous mention of her own—and the glittering jewelry. She’d written about the menu and food, for glory’s sake. If her assignment had been to act as a society reporter, she’d done a marvelous job.

When she went to breakfast
, her heart sank even farther into her shoes. Mrs. Pruitt hadn’t just put out the chafing dishes of eggs and bacon and retreated to the kitchen. She actually waited, arms folded over her large, chintz-covered bosom. “A word with you in my kitchen when you’re finished, Miss Tildon?”

Lizzy
gave her a faint, “Yes, of course.” Her head still hurt, and she had no appetite, so she only drank some coffee.

She patted her lips
with a napkin and nodded to the two other women eating breakfast. Rising from the table, she could only hope the scene would go quickly in the big, greasy kitchen.

Mrs. Pruitt greeted her with a smile.
Lizzy even looked over her shoulder to see if someone else had followed her into the kitchen and that was why the woman beamed. No, she was alone with Mrs. Pruitt, who advanced on her, still friendly.

“
He told me all about it,” she whispered to Lizzy.

“
Who?”

“
Sir Gideon. I had no notion you were so important.”

“
Oh. I am?”

“
And you related to practically royalty? Staying in my house. But I promised I’d keep my mouth shut. I will. But I just wanted to say how pleased I am that you decided to see how the little people live by staying in my house. You’re such a sweet, uncomplaining creature, I would never have guessed you were used to far better.”

Mrs. Pruitt seemed to expect an answer
, so Lizzy made an attempt. “Your house is so well run. Of course I wouldn’t complain.”

Mrs. Pruitt smile grew even wider.
“And is Mr. Oyster truly a bodyguard for you?”

This was easy enough
to answer without getting into trouble. “Yes, he’s been working for me for years. When did Sir Gideon visit?”

Mrs. Pruitt squeaked, a
n odd noise coming from such a substantial person. “You’d never believe it, miss. I believe he was rather the worse for drink when he came here at six a.m. He came straight to my kitchen door. Still dressed in evening wear, of all things. I had to wonder if it was all a sham, a gentleman having me on, you might say, but he is so convincing. He took the time to answer most of my questions. I asked myself, why would such a powerful man as he take the time for deception?”

Lizzy
longed to know what questions he answered, but she only agreed that it was unlikely that he’d be interested in playing a hoax, and she was pleased to verify all he’d said—whatever that was. She longed to ask Mrs. Pruitt about the latest batch of fictions he’d constructed. She allowed Mrs. Pruitt to curtsey to her and even press her hand. Then, without meeting anyone’s eye, she walked back through the dining room and up to her room. She gathered her notes and set off for Langham House.

Was she cast in the role of
Petersly’s relative with Mrs. Pruitt too? She wished she’d seen Sir Gideon rolling up to Mrs. Pruitt’s door at dawn.

And he had come here to preserve her
good name with the lady at the boardinghouse. She walked a little faster and wondered if she could use that as an excuse to visit his office and say thank you. No. No. No. No more flirting with the danger of Sir Gideon.

It was enough to be heading to work and her very own desk—her first
desk in an actual newspaper office, if one didn’t count those months she’d done a miserable job as a society reporter, hoping for real assignments. Perhaps if she’d viewed all those flower shows on the arm of Sir Gideon, she would have written the sort of fulsome articles the society pages required.

On her way into the impressive brick structure that was the home of Langham House, she saw the constab
le she’d met a few days earlier. She’d already formed a bond with him.

“
Good morning, miss,” Roberts said. He was tall, even for a bobby, and rawboned. His Adam’s apple was so prominent Lizzy had to keep herself from watching it as he talked or swallowed. He seemed to have a perpetual cold in the head.

“
Any interesting news for me?” She slipped him a few coins and a friendly smile.

“
There was a woman taken up overnight. She was dead as can be and resembled the other one what’s in the madhouse you asked me about.”

“
Dead?”

“
Horribly tortured too,” he said complacently. “Just what’s meat and drink to you lot, so you know the boys are on it already.”

She felt her heartbeat speed up and knew she was like a firehorse hearing the clanging bell, but no, she didn
’t have to run to the scene of interesting disasters anymore.

“
But you say she resembles the other one? The madwoman?” That settled it. She was as superstitious as the next newspaper man, and this seemed a sign. Lizzy would go talk to the madwoman.

“
Both have dark hair, blue eyes.” He rubbed his red nose. “I didn’t see her, but from the description, looks like you a bit.”

Blue eyes. There was no reason for the shiver down her back
. Howe and his crew of idiots were the only possible echo from her former life. They had been caught. They were an ocean away. They certainly didn’t kill or seriously injure the girls they picked up off the streets.

Then she remembered the fourth thug, the article she hadn
’t written.

She raced into the building,
glad she’d decided to go to the sanatorium. Interviewing Ellen Miles might help her rid herself of the creeping feeling. Tooley would call the sensation a reporter’s instinct but she called it an unreliable nuisance.

She made her way through the impressive outer chamber of Langham House
to the main news area.

“
Anyone know of a woman murdered last night? I’ve heard she resembled me.”

“
Certainly.”

She waited
, but the man who’d spoken didn’t add details. “What do they know? I promise not to poach on your territory,” she said. It was Mitchell, the man who’d complained that she worked too quickly.

He sighed.
“The girl is still not identified. She was found near Elgin Avenue. Bloody horrible things done to her. That should sell a few papers.”

She thanked him
, and rather than ask him more details, she pulled out her guidebook. Elgin Avenue. The name sounded familiar because she’d seen it yesterday. Maida Vale. The tickling sensation grew worse.

When she opened the door
to the annex, she saw at once that two men waited by her little space. One stood by her desk and one sprawled elegantly on the wooden chair behind it.

The other reporters in the room were bent over papers or
scribbling on foolscap. Her fellow workers appeared utterly oblivious to the interlopers’ presence, but she knew better.

“
Mr. Brinker. Lord Petersly. Good morning,” she said and was pleased she managed to sound brisk and businesslike. “How may I help you?”

Mr. Brinker
’s expression was as wooden as the desk. Lord Petersly wore a wide grin as he rose from her chair.

“
I gather from Brinker here that he’s been sent by your employer to give you a tour of London. If you want such a thing, I think you should let me conduct it. I’ll be able to get you into exhibitions and libraries most people don’t get to see.” People like a common valet, he didn’t need to add. The meaning was obvious.

Br
inker didn’t so much as flinch at what she thought was an insult to him. He even gave Lord Petersly a slight bow and then aimed another at her.

She wondered what
the valet would do or say if Petersly managed to seduce her. Would he save any of his disapproval for Petersly or would he only see her lack of moral fiber? After all, it was the female who must constrain and stop the male. That was the way of the world.

Her
flash of resentment at the status quo was over almost before Mr. Brinker finished the bow and turned back to her.

“
Good morning, Miss, uh…” His voice trailed off. He glanced nervously at Lord Petersly before turning back into a block of wood. She guessed he wasn’t sure which name she used, and he was rotten at deception. How could she resent Mr. Brinker when he was so terribly earnest? The very opposite of Lord Petersly and Sir Gideon.

“
She is either Miss Drury or Miss Tildon,” Lord Petersly supplied. “No need to hide her identities from me, for I know all.” He waggled his eyebrows, the same expression she’d seen Sir Gideon use before. Of course they had been boys together and were almost friends.

At that moment, s
he wished they’d go away and leave her in peace to work.

“
Of course, my lord,” Brinker said solemnly. “I was given to understand Your Lordship is well informed.”

“
Then why the hesitation?”

“
I am uncertain which name miss would prefer, my lord.”

Not quite standing up to the nobility but certainly there was a cool rebuke in his manner. Good for you, David Oliver
, she thought.

“
Thank you. You may call me any name you wish, Mr. Brinker. As to the tour of London, that’s not possible,” she said. “I am afraid I have a previous obligation, gentlemen.”

“
Work, eh?” Petersly said. “What does that mean today? Will you be writing up yesterday’s adventures?” He winked.

S
he pulled out the watch from her pocket and glanced at it. “In a half an hour, Oyster and I are going to visit a sanatorium for the mad.”

Mr. Brinker looked solemn. But surprisingly, so did Lord Peter
sly. Had she ever seen him in the grip of any emotion other than anger or amusement? Now he seemed entirely serious.

“
The young lady that was found badly injured?” he asked. “The one named Miles or Mills?”

“
Yes, how did you know?”

He shrugged.
“Something you said in passing.”

Had she mentioned the woman
? She couldn’t recall. He’d been so focused on the silly game they played on society and his flirtatious nonsense she was surprised to know he’d listened to her.

“
Why do you want to interview her?” he asked.

“
I’m interested in all aspects of society. Even the experiences of the unbalanced. Perhaps I shall visit various asylums.” It seemed like an absurd explanation but it appeared to satisfy him.

Lord Peter
sly laughed. “You are fearless, Miss Drury. A little creature like you. If you went up against the devil himself I wouldn’t put my money on him.” He grasped her hand as if he would kiss it in greeting, but he didn’t raise it to his lips.

“
Thank you, I think.” She couldn’t help feeling warm when he looked at her. He had a most appealing smile. Most spoiled boys did.

Now his eyes grew heavy with that seductive look
that made her blush at the same time she wanted to roll her eyes. The man was undeniably attractive, even if he knew it.

“
We shall have to meet to discuss the next event we should attend. I would enjoy that a great deal,” he said in a low voice.

Mr. Brinker cleared his throat but Petersly didn
’t release her hand.

“
I shall be on my way. Good morning, miss, my lord.” He bowed and left.

Petersly still lightly clasped her fingers
. She’d stripped off her gloves as she’d walked into the building, ready to work. So when he leaned over to at last kiss her knuckles she felt the heat of his breath and the imprint of his mouth. She wondered how many hands he’d kissed so expertly. Perhaps he’d even practiced that delicate, perfect touch of lips on skin. That thought made her grin. And when he straightened and looked into her eyes, his smoldering half smile vanished. He must have seen her amusement.