A Love Most Daring (Bow Street #3)

Chapter 1

“Which one?” I asked. “The blue or the red?” I turned to Ginny, holding each evening gown against me in turn, first a sky-blue silk with delicate embroidery along the hem, then a bold wine red with a gathered bodice.

Ginny reclined in an armchair, eyeing me with ill-concealed amusement. “Whichever is quickest to dress in. We’re late, Beatrice.”

Punctuality had never been my strong suit. “Not very late.”

“I do not think there is such a thing,” she said, wrapping one hand under the swell of her belly. She did it without seeming to realize, already protecting the child who grew within her. “You are either late, or you are not.”

“Then I doubt a minute or two will make any difference at this point.” I shook the two dresses at her. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Ginny said dryly, “that you are very concerned with what you are wearing to a simple dinner party.”

“I think I am showing the appropriate amount of concern, considering your mother-in-law is hosting this dinner party.” I dodged her insinuation.

“Which several handsome Bow Street Runners will be attending?” Her green eyes gleamed mischievously.

“You are useless,” I declared, turning to my lady’s maid waiting to help me dress. “Mariah, you choose.”

“I think the red is very fetching on you, Miss Lacey.” Her lips twitched. “I daresay Mr. Drake will think so as well.”

I dropped the gowns to my sides in exasperation. “I suppose you both find this all very amusing.”

“Extremely amusing, I would say.” Ginny grinned widely. “I’ve never seen you so out of sorts.”

“It is your fault,” I pointed out. “You and your matchmaking.”

“I cannot help it.” She stood and came to my side. “Ever since I met Mr. Drake, I have been anxious for the two of you to become acquainted. Besides, you haven’t been terribly subtle about your wish to meet Jack’s friends.”

She was right. I’d made no secret of how thrilling and romantic I thought my friend’s courtship with her husband, Jack, had been.

And since he was a former Bow Street Runner, it stood to reason that one of his brother officers might be similarly willing to sweep me off my feet.

Not that Ginny and Jack’s relationship could be so easily replicated.

But if I could find a love half so real and passionate, I should count myself fortunate indeed.

Ginny turned me toward the mirror, then took the two dresses from my hands. We were a study in contrast, my golden hair and freckled skin against her deep-red curls and ivory complexion. “Which do you feel most confident in?”

She held them up against me in turn.

“The red,” I finally decided. It was the bolder of the two options, and I liked to make an impression when at all possible.

“An excellent choice,” she said, handing the gown to Mariah.

Mariah helped me dress, then touched up my hair.

I was nervous but in the most delicious, anticipatory way possible.

What if tonight were the night I met my future husband—the man I would fall in love with?

Ginny had only wonderful things to say about Mr. Drake.

And if that wasn’t enough of a recommendation, her sister-in-law, Verity, also insisted that he was as good a man as they came, charming and honorable and handsome.

She would certainly know, having worked alongside him at Bow Street as a sketch artist and a private investigator in her own right.

But that familiar, shadowed worry crept again into the back of my mind, the one that had lingered since I’d arrived in London.

I tried to push it away. It had been two years, after all.

Surely no one remembered me—or the rumors.

There was certainly no reason to assume Mr. Drake knew about them.

Yet I could not rid myself of the unease.

I was so unused to meeting anyone who hadn’t already heard my name whispered about in the darkest tones.

Mariah finished and stepped back. I took a deep breath to steady myself—I couldn’t allow myself to lose this chance. I met Ginny’s gaze in the mirror.

She smiled softly. “You look lovely.”

There was none of her previous teasing in her expression, only kindness. I knew I could depend upon her when it mattered, and she understood how much importance I’d placed upon tonight.

She took my arm. “Come, then, let us make our very late but very grand entrance.”

Jack sat waiting for us on a bench near the stairs. Well, perhaps lounging was the better word. My friend’s husband always managed to look quite comfortable wherever he was.

“Ah, I see you’ve finally finished sewing your dress.” Jack stood, slipping his hands into his pockets.

I raised an eyebrow. “Sewing my dress?”

“You’ve both been in there an age,” he said with a smirk. “I couldn’t imagine what else was taking so long.”

“Hush, you.” Ginny took his arm. “A gentleman would wait for a lady no matter how long she took to ready herself.”

“A pity, then, that you did not marry a gentleman.” He winked at her.

I could not help but laugh, and neither could Ginny. I followed them down the stairs as Jack leaned closer to Ginny and whispered something in her ear. She giggled—giggled!—and nudged him with her elbow. No doubt it was something only a married couple would understand.

I swallowed and looked away. I was glad for Ginny, of course.

As my dearest friend for twenty years, she deserved every happiness.

But there was an edge of envy as well. How badly I wanted what she had—the love of a good man, a family of her own.

I’d nearly given up my dream altogether in recent years, but perhaps . . .

Perhaps this was the night that would change that.

I trailed behind Ginny and Jack as they approached the drawing room.

Though the town house was a modest size, Ginny’s mother-in-law had outfitted it gorgeously.

Rich damask wallpaper framed the entryway decorated with polished furniture and gilded mirrors.

Nothing too ostentatious but just stylish enough to display Mrs. Travers’s excellent taste, befitting of London’s premier actress.

She’d invited Ginny and Jack to stay during their visit to Town and had generously included me as well.

She’d been all that was gracious and welcoming when we’d arrived yesterday, though I could not say the same of Jack’s grandmother.

I admitted some relief that the prickly, elderly woman preferred solitude and would not be attending the party tonight.

Mrs. Travers waited outside the drawing room door in a gown of deep royal blue. Her ebony curls were touched by gray, which only enhanced her timeless beauty. She greeted us all warmly, fussing over Ginny and suggesting a seat near the fire, though Ginny insisted she was perfectly well.

A small crowd moved about the drawing room as we stepped inside, perhaps a dozen people. Among them, I knew only Verity Denning, Jack’s sister, and her husband, Nathaniel. I’d met them when they’d visited Jack and Ginny at Wimborne, and I’d become fast friends with Verity.

Another gentleman stood with the Dennings. I studied him surreptitiously. He looked to be a few years older than my four-and-twenty, with the broadest shoulders I’d ever seen. A girl could get used to such shoulders.

Ginny glanced at me and gave a subtle nod at the gentleman. So this was Mr. Drake. For some reason, simply putting a face to the name helped calm my nerves. He was handsome, with an open face and a quick smile. My heart ticked faster.

What if he knows? came that traitorous voice from the shadows of my mind. I shut it away.

Ginny and Jack went to join the group, but Verity came to my side before I could follow them. “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Have you now?” I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Why is that?”

She quirked a knowing smile. “A little bird told Mother that you might be pleased to be seated next to a certain officer at dinner.”

Oh heavens. Did everyone know about Ginny’s madcap scheme to match me with Mr. Drake? I flushed. “Remind me to scold this bird very firmly later.”

“Nonsense,” Verity said, taking my arm. “I have little doubt you will be thanking her.”

This would be the last time I ever made my interest in a man known. How positively mortifying.

Verity led me to the group. I was careful not to look at Mr. Drake as I exchanged how-do-you-dos with Verity’s husband, Mr. Denning—heavens, he was attractive, the lucky girl. Gathering my courage, I then turned to the broad-shouldered man.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said without preamble, smiling in a way that I hoped came across as friendly rather than forward.

I seemed to succeed since he met my smile—and better yet, there was nothing in his smile that hinted he knew even a whisper of my past. The pinching in my lungs eased the slightest bit.

Ginny’s lips darted up in amusement. “Beatrice is not one to stand upon ceremony, I’m afraid. Mr. Drake, allow me to present Beatrice Lacey, my dearest and most outspoken friend, as you’ll soon see.”

“There is nothing wrong with a woman who knows her own mind,” Mr. Drake said with a bow.

I was half in love with him already.

“Unless she also insists on knowing yours,” Mr. Denning said with a pointed look at his wife, and Verity slapped him lightly on the shoulder, laughing.

“Mr. Drake and Jack are old friends,” Ginny said, continuing her introduction. “They served together in the army and then came to Bow Street.”

I knew this, of course. I’d already pried such details from Ginny as we’d traveled to London yesterday. But I nodded with interest, as if I’d never heard it before.

Mr. Drake focused on me, clearly curious. “What brings you to Town, Miss Lacey?”

“I’m afraid I simply trailed behind Ginny and Jack,” I admitted. “This case you are working seems to have gathered quite the crowd.”

“We are glad for the help,” Mr. Drake said. “It has gotten out of hand rather quickly.”