Sixteen
“You’re back early.” Lyman was trying for a nonchalant tone, but feared he hadn’t managed it. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is something the matter?”
James Wood stood before him, still in his hat and coat. Lyman, in contrast, wore only his trousers and shirt. This was a marked departure from his usual attire, as he never ventured into the common areas where Mrs. Hirsch or the other lodgers might see him unless he was fully dressed. Wood’s expression signaled that he’d noticed.
“Not at all. Clarkson said he would finish up the work that was left,” he explained, still eyeing Lyman suspiciously. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course. I was just working on my book. Are you, er, back for the evening, then?” Please say no. Wood might take an early supper at the public house down the road or have an errand to run. Anything to take him away long enough for Della to slip back out.
“I suppose so.” Wood looked him over. “Why?”
Blast my luck.
“I was just making conversation,” Lyman replied coolly. “I’d best get back to my work.”
“Did you move that table?” Wood craned his neck to look into the dining room just as Lyman was about to walk away. He crossed through the doorway to inspect things more closely. “And what happened to the other chair?”
“I borrowed it,” Lyman replied, thinking quickly. “The one at my desk has a loose leg.”
Wood frowned at this. “Of course I don’t mind, but I wonder if Mrs. Hirsch might object to you taking things from the common space and rearranging the furniture…”
There were four chairs at the dining table and only three lodgers. The man was insufferable.
“I’ll be sure to put it back just as soon as I’ve had mine repaired.” Lyman spoke through gritted teeth. “Good day.”
He hurried back into his rooms, careful not to open the door beyond the absolute minimum required to get himself inside. Della had concealed herself in the bedroom, but peered around the doorframe at his entrance. He brought a finger to his lips to signal silence until he came close enough to whisper in her ear. “One of the other lodgers is back early. Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”
Her dark eyes grew round at this. She stood on tiptoes to reach his ear and whisper back, “How do we get out?”
I have no idea. If it had been Clarkson that came home early, Lyman could have asked him to wait in his room a moment to avoid embarrassing Della as she left. But Wood would be sure to poke his nose in and run straight to Mrs. Hirsch to complain about the indecency of Lyman having a woman in his rooms. He would get Lyman turned out of the house, not to mention the consequences for Della if anyone learned who she was.
“I’ll think of something,” he promised. “Let’s finish getting dressed.” It was the only thing they could do for the moment.
From somewhere outside his rooms came the sound of Wood dragging the table across the floorboards.
Lyman tugged his waistcoat and day coat on quickly, then redid his cravat. In the same period of time, Della started the laborious process of relacing her corset extremely loosely and tugging it back over her shift, so that all that remained was to pull the laces tight again. Unable to progress any further without Lyman’s help, she motioned to her back and turned away to let him finish the job.
He shouldn’t have been able to appreciate the intimacy of the situation. Not when they were in danger of being exposed any minute. But the heat of Della’s skin teased his fingertips through the thin shift; reminding him that he hadn’t quite had his fill. Lyman leaned in close to her ear to whisper, “Tell me if it’s too tight,” as a chestnut curl brushed his cheek.
He could have taken her again right there, if not for their unwelcome intruder.
Della nodded, which he took to mean that he hadn’t botched the laces too badly. He had no idea how women got in and out of all these contrivances; it seemed to involve some form of sorcery.
Her gown was next, with its multitude of buttons, and then her gloves. Finally they were both nearly as presentable as they had been several hours ago, except for Della’s hair, which he judged beyond his power to repair.
There’s only so much I can do.
Once they were both ready, they stared at each other expectantly. Lyman had hoped something would have come to him by now.
With an apologetic look, Della returned to the desk and picked up her pencil.
“How can you write at a time like this?” he hissed, following her.
“He has to leave eventually, doesn’t he? And I still have work to do. I may as well accomplish something while we wait.”
She didn’t even look worried, though she had far more to lose than Lyman did.
“What if he stays for the rest of the evening? You can’t intend to wait until he’s sleeping.”
“I could.” Della bit her lip. “I’m sorry to impose on your hospitality, but I don’t see what choice I have.”
She must have meant it when she said her parents wouldn’t notice her absence, but Lyman didn’t think Annabelle would be quite so understanding.
“I could distract him somehow while you slip out.” It sounded too risky even to his own ears. How could he keep Wood trapped in his room? He might go downstairs and ask Mr. Hirsch to summon his apprentice to complete some task, but then he would have to explain why . He didn’t want to incur his landlord’s suspicion. “Oh! I could find an errand boy to come back here and call him away for some emergency. By the time he realizes it’s a hoax, you’ll be long gone.”
“I’m impressed to see you have a knack for scheming, my lord,” Della whispered with a smile. “I wouldn’t have thought it. But won’t he suspect you?”
Probably. Lyman didn’t have a history of playing pranks, but there was no one else around to take the blame, and he’d already made Wood suspicious. “I’ll handle it.”
Della bit her bottom lip. “Are you sure it’s quite safe to leave me alone here when you go out to find a messenger? There’s no chance the other lodger or your landlady would try to come into your rooms while you’re gone, is there? I’m not dressed for a climb out the window.”
“They shouldn’t.” Lyman frowned. Now he was doubting himself. There was no logical reason Mrs. Hirsch should pry into his rooms, but she did have the keys. And while it would be a gross intrusion on his privacy for Mr. Wood to attempt such a thing, Lyman couldn’t rule it out completely. If the man suspected him of doing something improper, might he not poke around in search of proof the minute Lyman left? “Never mind,” he finally said. “Let’s wait a while and see if he goes out on his own before we run the risk.”
Della nodded. “Anyway, it will be harder for anyone to see our faces if it’s dark out when we leave.”
She went directly back to her work, while Lyman found it impossible to focus now. He listened to every creak of the floorboards, trying to pinpoint Mr. Wood’s location from moment to moment. Every so often, Della would set down her pencil to ask Lyman’s opinion on a subject or to reread a passage she’d written. It was a novel experience to collaborate this way. He might have enjoyed it if he weren’t so preoccupied.
When at last they heard footsteps on the stairs, they were coming up, not down.
“That will be Mr. Clarkson, whom you met the other night at the theater. I can ask him to help us. I won’t mention your name, of course.”
“I trust you,” said Della easily. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who’d wept this morning over her club’s reputation. Lyman couldn’t for the life of him understand why a business should mean more to her than her own well-being, particularly when her family didn’t seem to need the money.
Her friends had something to do with it, no doubt. Della was too loyal for her own good.
Stop thinking of that. Lyman didn’t want to start regretting what they’d shared so quickly, and dwelling on her club was the surest way to do it. Besides, they had more immediate problems to worry about.
“Wait here,” he whispered. He crept into the hall with a light step, meeting his friend in the entryway where he was still hanging his hat.
“Good evening.” Clarkson nodded in greeting. His voice was deep and clear, with a tendency to carry too easily.
“Shhh.” Lyman motioned for silence as he whispered. “I need you to distract Mr. Wood for me. Can you find a way to keep him in his room for five minutes?”
Clarkson’s eyebrows shot up, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Dare I ask why?”
“Better not to,” Lyman replied with a rueful sigh. Though Clarkson was intelligent enough to guess, he’d rather not recount the specifics of his predicament while Wood was just in the next room. “Will you do it?”
“Of course.” Clarkson stopped to think for a moment, his rich brown eyes narrowing in concentration. “Though the surest way to keep him talking is to pretend I’m too ignorant to understand something without his help, which I shall never live down. I hope you appreciate what a sacrifice this is for me.”
“I’ll buy all your tobacco for a year,” Lyman promised.
With a look of great forbearance, Clarkson turned himself toward Wood’s room. He hadn’t yet drawn close enough to knock when the door opened and its occupant stepped out. He looked startled to find both men watching him.
“I thought I heard you come in.” Wood nodded toward Clarkson. “Did you finish reviewing the jurisprudence for Mr. Hirsch?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure how to interpret an older case I found. Would you have time to go over it with me before I turn in my notes? You might spot something I’ve missed.” Clarkson was doing a convincing imitation of someone who looked up to Mr. Wood, which couldn’t be easy. But just as Lyman had started to slip away, confident that all was in hand, his friend’s tone changed. “Wait a minute. Is that my cravat?” He pointed at the blue silk encircling Mr. Wood’s collar.
“What?” Wood glanced down. “No, I don’t believe so. I have one in this color, you know.”
“It’s been missing for weeks. Did you borrow it without asking?”
“What an accusation!” Wood turned to Lyman for assistance, forcing him to halt his retreat. “Are you hearing this?”
“Mr. Clarkson, didn’t you have something you wanted Mr. Wood to look at?” Lyman tried hopefully. But the subterfuge was forgotten.
“Let me see it,” Clarkson insisted. “Mine has my initials sewn in at the back. Then we’ll know.”
“This is absurd!” Wood huffed with indignation. “I won’t be treated like a common thief in my own home.”
“I never said you were a thief,” Clarkson replied, his voice tight. “I said that it looks exactly like the cravat I’ve been missing and I want to check for my initials. Perhaps the washerwoman mixed it up.”
This didn’t sound like an explanation that anyone believed for an instant, but it would have allowed Wood to save face, if only he would take the opportunity. “I can’t believe your insolence! If you keep this up, I’ll have words with Mr. Hirsch.”
Clarkson snorted. “You’re going to ask him to preside as judge in a dispute over a cravat?”
Wood grew red in the face. “I’ll tell him you’ve been harassing me with unfounded accusations!”
“Fine,” Clarkson said. “Keep my cravat. I’ll buy another.” He didn’t sound happy about it, but the embarrassment of taking the quarrel to Mr. Hirsch must have outweighed the value of the patch of silk in his estimation.
“It isn’t yours,” Wood returned peevishly.
“Which you could easily prove by letting me have a look.”
“You’ve no right to look! My word as a gentleman should be enough.” Wood stamped his foot on the floor. “That’s it. I am going to tell Mr. Hirsch about this. He should know what sort of man he’s opened his house to.” Wood strode toward the door.
“You can’t be serious,” Clarkson called after him, hurrying to catch up. “I said you could keep the bloody thing.”
Lyman didn’t waste a minute. This wasn’t the method he would have chosen to empty the second floor, but empty it was, and who knew for how long. He raced back to his room and motioned to Della. “Hurry, they’ve gone downstairs for a minute. If we’re quick, we can have you out of here before they return.”
Della didn’t need a second warning. She snatched up her things and scurried to the door, holding the hood of her cloak up to hide her face as she went. They paused at the top of the stairs to listen. They could hear knocking on the first floor below and a flurry of voices as the argument was recounted. A click of the latch signaled that they’d gone inside.
Lyman went first, motioning Della to follow as he confirmed the landing was safe. They fled the street as soon as they could to find a hansom cab on the corner. He didn’t feel right sending Della off alone with an unknown man as her driver, so Lyman accompanied her to Mayfair and said his goodbyes there.
“I’m terribly sorry about all of that,” he began. “I should have known it was too risky to bring you to my lodgings.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said quickly. “I don’t regret a thing.”
She was daring enough to risk a kiss, her mouth brushing over his so quickly that Lyman scarcely had time to reach out to touch her before she pulled away, and then he was watching the sway of Della’s skirts as she rushed back to the safety of her front door.
By the time Lyman had made his way back to the Hirsch residence, the quarrel was long over. Wood was barricaded in his room, though Clarkson came out to greet him at the sound of the door.
“It was my cravat,” he announced with grim satisfaction. “The initials were right where I said.”
***
“Where on earth have you been ?” Annabelle was waiting to confront her as soon as Della arrived home. “You’ve been gone all day, and without a chaperone. I hope you weren’t with Lord Ashton all this time.”
“You’re the one who sent for him in the first place,” Della reminded her. “What did you think would happen?” But the reminder of her sister’s role in starting the whole evening had her feeling charitable enough not to start a quarrel. “Don’t worry. I only wanted to work on my book without any disturbances, that’s all.”
“You’ve been gone nearly ten hours!”
“Another of the lodgers came home earlier than expected and I had to wait him out. The important thing is that I’m back safe and sound, and I finished two whole chapters plus my introduction.”
“That doesn’t sound like very much for all the time you were there,” Annabelle observed wryly. “How did you and your viscount pass the rest of the day, I wonder?”
“I won’t listen to such wild accusations,” Della replied. It was all she could do not to squeal with glee at the memory. She judged it best to change the subject before she gave herself away. “You just don’t have any proper conception of how long writing takes. Anyway, did I miss anything here while I was out?”
“Supper. Also, several of your friends came to call, including Jane. She left a note.”
“Thank you.”
Once her sister had accepted that no further information would be forthcoming and given up trying to learn more, Della went to retrieve her messages and asked a footman if Cook would be kind enough to prepare her a plate of leftovers she might take in her room. While at Ashton’s lodgings, she’d succeeded in forgetting the catastrophe at Bishop’s for a short time, but now it all came rushing back.
She flipped through the calling cards, casting aside all those that weren’t Jane’s.
Della,
All is in hand. Eli and I will handle the club tonight while his mother watches Gloria. I have persuaded Cecily to help us counter the rumors. (I know, not the most likely solution but she is good with people.) Get some rest. I’ll try you again when I have more time.
—Jane
Cecily? Cecily? It should be Della’s job to quell the rumors and smooth over ruffled feathers, not hers! Della had years of practice keeping their members happy. She was good at it. Why should Jane suddenly trust her cousin, when the pair had been rivals more often than friends?
Della set the note down and began flipping through the other cards she’d tossed aside. Miss Berry, Lady Eleanor, Miss Anwar… It seemed many of her regular attendees had stopped by the house this morning to discuss what they’d seen or heard last night. And now Della couldn’t return their calls unless she consulted Jane or Cecily first, lest she say something that contradicted their story.
As she picked at her meal, Della wondered what type of reception she would receive at the Williamses’ town house when she next called. What if she arrived to find Hannah in the middle of packing her bags for an extended voyage to the continent? Her mother probably wouldn’t be too happy to see Della again, assuming the poor woman hadn’t keeled over from apoplexy yet.
It’s too late to call anyway. They’ll have left for Bishop’s hours ago.
The doors would already be open by now. Would there be more members than usual, drawn by the scent of gossip, or less, as women sought to avoid being tainted by association? She wasn’t sure what news would be harder to receive—that Jane hadn’t been able to solve everything without her, or that she had, proving once and for all that Della was entirely superfluous in this operation.
It was too maddening to think of it, so Della resolved to stop. She was exhausted, and her bed was right here. Although it had the disadvantage of not having the Viscount Ashton inside of it, it was otherwise quite comfortable. Besides which, she had the memory of their recent lovemaking to warm her as she slept.