Chapter Seventeen
Janelle accepted another invitation to dance.
Three balls in as many nights, and somehow she had become a popular dance partner.
She was an engaged person and therefore off the marriage mart.
And yet, she was abruptly popular with political gentlemen who wanted to know all sorts of details about her fiancé’s work.
She had no answers for them. She didn’t know anything.
So she danced and smiled and tried to keep from worrying about the sudden absence of pregnant women in her…
er, in Betty’s life. Three nights and no messages from Madame Florina.
Was there suddenly a dearth of expectant mothers in London?
Or had Major Vance done something annoying?
Obviously, it was Major Vance, but what had he done? She’d been fretting about what he’d discovered about her—about Betty—for the last three days. He knew everything now, and she dreaded the angry discussion with her fiancé that was surely coming.
Except no such confrontation occurred. Indeed, she received a note telling her that Lord Benedict was to be absent for the next couple weeks but that she could put her every faith in the major.
Fat chance. And yet, she had no other recourse except to sit and wait for news.
She’d simply rested for the first day. With the lower population in Devon, she’d rarely needed to work the night through then appear bright-eyed before her father the next day.
There had been a few times, naturally, but nothing like the fast pace of London when—up until now—Madame Florina had sent for her day and night.
Now she’d gone three days without a word. Something was up, but what? She’d already resolved to visit the madame in the morning and demand an explanation. But in the meantime, she danced, smiled idiotically, and fretted.
Then, at the exact moment she stopped thinking of him, what happened? He stood right beside her aunt, waiting for her to step off the dance floor. Damn irritating man. But her other choice was to remain with her current dance partner and that would be extremely tedious.
So with a stiffening in her spine, she left the floor and joined her aunt and her nemesis near the punch bowl.
“Good evening, Miss Caddick,” he said bowing deeply before her.
“Major Vance—” she began, but her aunt interrupted her.
“You’ll not believe the bother. There’s something amiss with your wedding invitations and the major needs you to attend to it right now.”
Janelle frowned. “Right now?” What could possibly be so vital—
“It’s my fault, I’m afraid,” the major said as he bowed again. “Matters of state have prevented me from attending to it before now, and I’m to send a missive to your fiancé by courier in an hour. There’s also a letter from him.” He held out his hand. “If you would accompany me, please.”
“Where?” She wouldn’t normally be so curt.
Indeed, she was a woman who was polite by rote.
And yet the minute the major showed up, her skin flushed, her tongue spouted all sorts of awkward things, and…
well, and her body grew horribly, awfully awake.
It was as if every aspect of her person was suddenly alerted her that he was here!
As if that were of life and death importance when it absolutely was not.
And yet, here she was with her heart beating fast and her gaze noting that he looked especially handsome tonight. He was in his military uniform, and didn’t that fit his broad shoulders exquisitely?
“I’m afraid I must take you to the Foreign Office for the letter,” he said. “It’s come in a diplomatic pouch and even something so mundane must not leave those premises.”
She stared at him. Was he serious? He looked serious, but how could a letter from her fiancé be anything of national interest? Meanwhile, her aunt grew impatient at her standing there gaping at him.
“Don’t just stand there. Go with the man.”
“But aunt, you wanted to stay for the supper.”
“I’m not going, you goose. The major has found a lovely young gent to serve as my escort tonight.” She gestured behind her at a young lieutenant in full uniform. “He will see that I am returned home safely.”
“But—”
The major interrupted. “I’ve a maid in the carriage, so you can be sure of the proprieties. I have taken every care.”
Her aunt squeezed the man’s biceps in admiration. “Of course, you have. My niece is being a ninny. Now go, Janelle. You must get used to this kind of thing now. Your fiancé is a very important man.”
What could she say to that? She pressed a kiss to her aunt’s cheek, then headed for the door.
A footman already stood ready with her wrap, and another held the door open for her.
She looked around as they headed out, but no one seemed to think the situation odd.
In fact, when she stopped to take her leave of her hostess, Lady Leigh gripped her hands and said, “We are all slaves to our husband’s careers. You’ll get used to it.”
“I suppose I’ll have to,” she said, then she allowed the major to whisk her away.
His carriage was parked a little way down the street, but that gave her time to talk to him. Or at least try.
“Major, as much as I appreciate—”
“Wait until we’re inside the carriage.” His words were curt, his tone low and…
something. Did she hear anger? Annoyance?
She had no idea and she despised speculating.
She needed to understand exactly where she stood with a person.
That way, she could play into their expectations and then fade completely away from their consciousness.
Except with the major. She never knew what he thought of her, and that irritated her beyond belief.
“This is highly unusual,” she said under her breath.
“Not for you,” he retorted. Then before she could ask him what the devil he meant by that, he hauled open the hackney door.
She was certainly accustomed to travelling in hackneys, but she had assumed they had Lord Benedict’s carriage.
And hadn’t he claimed a maid would be with them? Because there wasn’t.
She halted half in and half out of the conveyance.
“I don’t understand—”
“Get in!” he huffed. Then he did something she never expected. He planted his very large hand flat on her backside and pushed.
She was neatly catapulted onto the seat. And while she settled on the squabs—her backside still tingling from the press of his hand—he leaped in, slammed the door, and bellowed, “Go!”
“What is the meaning of this?”
Rather than be intimidated by her tone, he relaxed back against the squabs. “The meaning, Miss Caddick, is that there is a woman in labor who needs your help. We are on our way there now.” Then while she gaped at him, he frowned in consternation. “Sorry. I meant to call you Miss Betty.”
She echoed his frown. “We’re headed to a patient?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re taking me?”
“Yes.”
“Of your own free will?”
“Obviously.”
She snorted at his dry tone. Nothing was obvious with him. “Why?”
“Because you are good at it.”
“Of course, I’m good at it,” she snapped. “But that didn’t make a difference three nights ago.”
He crossed his arms as he met her hard stare with a casual air. “It made a great deal of difference.” He sounded like those words choked him. “And because Lord Benedict ordered it. That and a great deal more.”
Now that was news and not of a comforting sort. “So you told him.”
“I did.” Then he grimaced. “But he already knew.”
She jolted. “Everything?”
“Everything,” the major confirmed.
Of course, he knew everything. Hadn’t she guessed as much? And yet the confirmation rattled her. “How?”
The major shrugged, a very distracting shift of muscular shoulders. “I do not know exactly, though I suspect Lord Nathaniel.”
The kind gentleman who had helped her at the Foreign Office. The newlywed ne’er-do-well who was perpetually about. “How would he know?”
He stared at her as his tone became tiresome. “I told you,” he emphasized, “you are now moving in a circle where such things are noticed. You are watched, tracked, and reported upon.”
The idea made her shudder. With all the people in London, she’d felt so anonymous. “Lord Nathaniel was spying on me? But I’m nobody.”
“You’re Lord Benedict’s future wife. That makes you important.”
She was beginning to realize that. And yet, it still boggled her mind.
“That is what you have been saying,” she finally admitted.
Then she looked out the window, her heart breaking with her next words.
“Everything about my life really is going to change. You’re going to make Betty a rarity, aren’t you?
” He might be taking her to a laboring woman now, but she could read between the lines.
This would happen less and less after her wedding, until Betty was no more.
Her eyes watered, and she pressed her hand to her mouth.
What was she going to do? Her father, her aunt, and so many people told her she must marry.
And indeed, she liked Lord Benedict, at least what she had seen of him.
She thought they might get along well together. But if she had to give up being Betty…
She didn’t know if she could do it.
“It would break you, wouldn’t it?” he asked, his tone low.
She blinked back her tears. “What?”
“Not being Betty. Right now, you’re wondering if you could manage giving it up. You’re wondering if you could defy your aunt and your father, if you could give up everything to become Betty for the rest of your life. No more parties, no more nice clothes.”
As if she cared for any of that. The real problem was much more basic. “My father doesn’t realize it, but he pays for my medicines. My pin money gives me bandages and pays the cabbies who take me to the patients. I still want to study, and the cost of books alone is exorbitant.”
“What would you eat? How would you live?”
All good questions. “Most midwives make a living.” A poor one, but they survived.
“You don’t ask for coins from the women themselves.”
“But I would need to, wouldn’t I? Or I wouldn’t eat.”
He nodded and she saw sympathy in his eyes. Damn it, it was an impossible choice. She needed support in order to do the work she loved. And that didn’t even mention the other difficulty.
“If I’m always Betty, I’d have to give up my family, too.
Father wouldn’t stomach the embarrassment.
” He might be harsh, but he was her father.
Her aunt had always been kind, and her brother was…
well, he was her baby brother and she adored him.
They had always helped one another. If he weren’t right now at school, she’d be pouring her confusion into his ear.
“And yet, you are still thinking of it,” he pressed. “What would it cost you to give it all up to become Betty?”
It would turn her into Midwife Cooper. Not as stupid, of course.
She wouldn’t go about cupping everyone. But she’d have to be money-conscious, and she would hate it.
And yet that was life, wasn’t it? Her patients made such choices every day.
Eat or pay rent. Hire a midwife or risk a neighbor’s untrained hands.
She—and her patients—had survived on the luxury of her father’s money, but that would have to end.
“There has to be a way,” she whispered, knowing that there wasn’t.
Even before having her first Season in London, she knew that her days as Betty were numbered.
She would have to marry sometime. Her husband—whomever he was—would not allow his wife to go off delivering babies like a country witch woman.
“There is,” he said, his voice grim.
It took a moment before she understood his words. And even so, she had to replay them in her mind three times before she stared at him. “What?”
“Did you wonder why I came for you? Why you haven’t received a message from Madame Florina?’
“Yes, I did.”
“It is because I have found a way—perhaps—for you to maintain this ruse even as Lord Benedict’s wife.
“Truly?” The elation in her voice was hard to hide. “What have you discovered?”
“A possibility,” he said, his voice hard. “But only if you will do exactly what I say, when I say it.”
“Anything,” she said, even knowing that that was a rash promise. And yet, the depth of her fears pushed her to confess the truth. “Whatever you need me to do,” she said.
“You’re going to regret saying that,” he said grimly. “But it is exactly what is required of you now.”
And so her bargain was set, though she had no idea what she’d just promised. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to argue. The hackney pulled to a stop.
“We’re here,” he said as he handed her a dark cloak. “Cover yourself and we’ll see if you can do what needs to be done.”