Nell had been granted a full day off the following day. Her sister had given birth the day before, and Nell had asked for and been granted time to see her new nephew.
“No. I want to go today. Look.” She dumped her sewing basket over—which delighted Welly, who grabbed a bit of yarn and ran off with it—and lifted two veils from under the scraps of fabric and unfinished embroidery. “We will wear these. No one will recognize us.”
“But what if someone does, my lady? This isn’t at all proper.”
“It’s not as if we will be in St. James’s at night. It’s only slightly forbidden to women during the day.”
Nell made another plea for her mistress to reconsider, but Lorrie had already tucked the veils under her pelisse. She had to see Ewan Mostyn, and nothing Nell said would convince her otherwise.
Two nights ago, at the conclusion of the Dewhursts’ ball, Ewan had put her in the carriage with her parents, informed the party he would see them the following day, and closed the door. After the musicale last night he’d done the same thing. Her parents had not remarked on it. Why should they care if the hired help chose to sleep God knew where as long as he was present when required?
The problem was that Ewan had chosen to sleep at the duke’s town house so many other nights. They’d spent hours together in the predawn, huddled close while she read to him.
And now he made those meetings impossible, and she must meet with him because she had finally solved his father’s problem. She knew how to save Pembroke, and she couldn’t even tell Ewan because he wouldn’t see her.
And it was her fault. Lorrie didn’t think it any coincidence that Ewan had chosen to avoid her after he’d caught her in Francis’s arms. He’d seen her with Francis before, at the prince’s ball, and the look on his face that night had been impatient and angry.
But at the Dewhursts’ ball Ewan had looked more hurt than angry. And it was her fault he felt betrayed.
She had to tell him there was no reason to be hurt. She didn’t care about Francis. But more importantly, she had to tell him her plan to save Pembroke.
“We’ll tell my mother we are going out shopping,” Lorrie told Nell, who seemed finally to have resigned herself to her fate and put a shawl around her shoulders.
“What if she wants to come, my lady?”
“She won’t. She has charitable meetings all day—if that’s what you want to call afternoon liaisons with her lover. She won’t want us along when she sneaks off to see him.”
“Oh dear.” Nell pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were bright red, almost as red as her hair. “I don’t think you should say such things, my lady.”
Lorrie shrugged. “What other explanation is there? No one can be that charitable. You needn’t pretend the staff never gossips about such matters.”
“Of course I must pretend, my lady. Just as I’ll pretend today that I don’t know you plan to see a man in his private rooms.”
Lorrie flashed her maid a warning look. “Nothing untoward will happen. I only need to speak with him for a minute or two. You can wait downstairs, and I will return so quickly you’ll hardly know I was gone.”
“But a gambling hell, my lady!” Nell’s hands went to her cheeks again. “That’s the devil’s work.”
Lorrie tried very hard not to roll her eyes. “Then do not gamble. I won’t ask you to throw the dice, only wait a few minutes while I speak to Mr. Mostyn. Come on.”
Lorrie found her mother in the drawing room and informed her of the plan to go shopping, taking Nell along, of course. Her mother suggested she also bring a footman to carry the packages, but Lorrie said she only planned to look, not buy more than a hat or a book, and Nell could certainly manage those. Then because her mother looked as though she might insist on the footman, Lorrie suggested the duchess come with them. To her surprise, her mother almost looked regretful to decline. Lorrie began to wonder if perhaps her mother really was spending afternoons attending meetings for hospitals and orphanages, and if the duchess might not wish to go out with her daughter for a bit of shopping instead.
Before her mother could insist on a footman, Lorrie took Nell’s arm and hurried her outside. The day was cool and cloudy, but it was not so cold they could not walk to St. James’s Street. Nell walked a step or two behind Lorrie, but Lorrie could hear the maid clearly enough when she spoke.
“I don’t suppose this meeting has anything to do with the time you and Mr. M spend in the library together every night.”
Lorrie stopped, and Nell plowed into her.
“You know about that?”
Nell gave her an innocent smile. “I am good at pretending.”
“I’m helping Mr…M with an estate issue,” Lorrie said, hoping he would not mind if she revealed a little of his private affairs. “That’s all. Nothing sordid about reading documents and land surveys.”
“Nothing sordid at all, my lady.”
Lorrie began to walk again.
“Is that what you will be doing at Langley’s, my lady? Reading land surveys?”
Lorrie didn’t answer. When they neared St. James’s Street, Lorrie ducked into a small shop selling soaps and perfumes. She pretended to browse. Before leaving, she donned her veil and made Nell do the same.
The rest of the walk was made in what seemed like twilight. Through the dark netting, everything looked shadowy and sinister. By the time she reached Langley’s she was shaking with fright.
She told herself to stop acting like a child. What was the worst that could happen? Her identity would be discovered? That would make her life difficult for a little while, but her life wouldn’t be in any danger.
Lorrie stood before the door and studied it. The hell looked closed. It was barely noon, and as most of the ton was only just rising at this hour, there was no need for an establishment catering to the upper classes to open its doors this early.
And since the doors were closed, how to gain access?
“Have you reconsidered, my lady?” Nell asked.
“No.” Lorrie took a breath, telling herself she had not reconsidered. “Should I knock?”
“I think it might be better if we go in. Harder to kick someone out than refuse entrance.”
That was true enough. Nell seemed to have resigned herself to this outing and apparently wanted it over and done.
Lorrie reached for the door and pushed it open. She was immediately assaulted by the odors of tobacco, spirits, and leather. These masculine scents were familiar to her, having lived with a father and three brothers.