Chapter Nine
Never in his twenty-six years of life did Leonard think he would be asked to do something so ridiculous. And for reasons beyond understanding, he was considering helping this woman.
“To be clear,” he began, “you plan to go after this item whether I help you or not.”
“I am afraid I don’t really have a choice.”
Mr. Hind’s muscled men came to the forefront of Leonard’s mind. While he did not enjoy being around Mrs. Gillingham or approve of her actions at all, he still didn’t like the idea of her being injured.
Leonard held out a hand, and Mrs. Gillingham’s eyes lit up. As she reached forward to take it, he pulled back just out of her reach.
“To be clear,” he began again, “I will not do anything illegal. Any help you need from me must be within the parameters of the law.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” She reached forward again, but he kept his hand back.
“I need your word.”
Mrs. Gillingham’s hand hung in the air as she deliberated. “On my honor. I will not ask you to do anything illegal.”
Leonard finally took her hand, shaking their agreement. A smile crept across her lips, and she held his hand a moment longer than he was comfortable with. “I am growing on you, aren’t I?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Warts grow on a person, but that doesn’t mean they are wanted.”
Leonard felt a bit of satisfaction when her smile slipped away and her mouth fell open. She had put him through enough trouble that he didn’t feel particularly bad about it.
“I am going home now, Mrs. Gillingham. Summon me when you need me.” He spun on his heel and huffed it back to his horse, a smile of satisfaction forming on his lips.
Walking nervous circles about the townhouse became a frequent occurrence over the next two days. It was possible he was imagining things, but Leonard could swear his pants were fitting looser from the increase in steps.
Every time a carriage rattled by, he rushed to the front window to see if a note was being delivered.
When an invitation came to attend dinner at the Seymour’s residence next week, he nearly threw it onto the floor.
It would be much more preferable to know what Mrs. Gillingham needed from him and when she needed him to do it.
Best to be done with this ugly business, and then he would have the funds to pay his friends and he could go back to—
His thoughts halted, for there was really nothing to return to. Unless one counted avoiding social gatherings as a pastime.
Perhaps his father would allow him to return home for good now that the season was at a close. Leonard could argue that his time spent in London was now a waste of time and resources, and if he were home, he could at least help his father out around the estate.
There. A perfectly logical idea. Once this horrendous affair was over, anyway.
The clock rang six o’clock, and as if an ominous sign, a knock sounded on his door.
Every muscle in his body seized, but he tried to force himself to relax.
She was only a woman. There was nothing she could force him to do if he was uncomfortable with it.
He was only helping her to keep her safe and to procure funds for the stupid wager, and then this frustrating woman would leave him be, and she would go on with her life—one without crime.
If she could be believed. Andrew said she seemed an honest sort, but honest people didn’t go about thieving.
“Sir,” Fitzroy said, walking into the drawing room, his neck uncharacteristically tight. “A woman is here asking for admittance to speak with you. And she is alone.” When he uttered the last word, it seemed to stretch longer than the others, and his voice dipped lower as if uttering a secret.
Better to get it over with than wear a rut on the floor from all his pacing. “Bring her in, please.” He nearly walked the length of the rug, but forced his feet to be still while he waited. This was what he had wanted. To know his task and be done with it. Soon, he could be free of this. And her.
A moment later, Mrs. Gillingham sauntered into the room wearing a deep blue gown that brought out the same color in her eyes. He hated that he had even noticed such details.
Just as he opened his mouth to greet her, she beat him to the punch. “Good evening, Mr. Stanton. I hope I am not intruding.”
“Not at all. I had been anticipating your appearance.”
“Oh?” Her eyelids drooped low. “You flatter me. I had thought you did not like me.”
Leonard rolled his eyes. “I don’t. I only mean to say that I want this situation over and done with. The sooner the better.”
“It’s always about getting down to business matters with you, isn’t it?
” She stepped further into the room, but rather than taking a seat, which Leonard gestured toward, she surveyed the walls.
“I believe that you are more fun than you let on.” Her eyes flicked to him.
“At least, I hope so for your future wife’s sake. ”
“I am rarely more fun than I am now. And you need not concern yourself with a fictitious woman’s future.”
“Ah, but she isn’t fictitious. Just unknown to you.
More of a mystery, rather.” Mrs. Gillingham walked around a vacant chair, then surprised him by taking a seat.
Of course, it wasn’t the one he had offered.
That would have been too predictable. Too easy.
And Mrs. Gillingham didn’t seem the sort to do either.
“Whether fictitious or mystery, it is none of your concern,” Leonard said.
“She.” Mrs. Gillingham lifted a gloved finger into the air. “Let us say she. It makes her seem inhuman.”
Leonard sat and leaned his elbows on his knees, scuffing his hands over his face. “I may not even get married,” he bit out. “So whether mystery or fictitious or human or it, does not matter.”
Mrs. Gillingham sighed, sinking into the back of her chair until she morphed to its shape while placing a hand to her brow. “Poor woman. I pity her already.”
“What is it that you need?” His voice was nearing begging status, and he hated himself for it. “I just want to know what you need from me, so we can move on with our lives and be done with this mess.”
A sigh sounded from her chair, but he was looking at the floor with his head cradled in his hands.
“Very well,” she said. “I shall get on with it.”
He closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“You may want to hold your thanks.”
He opened his eyes and glanced up at her. “Why?”
Mrs. Gillingham’s features took on a more professional appearance.
Her haughty, teasing smile was gone, and instead of loafing in her chair, she sat straight as a pin.
“I peddled the necklace several weeks ago, you see. So, I tried to get in touch with my middleman—the man I use to take care of the more dirty work of selling—” She waved her hand in a circular motion.
“You don’t do the selling?” Leonard’s brow wrinkled.
“Not typically. But it’s not often I need his services. It’s more a way to cover my tracks so no one knows of my little . . . habit.”
Leonard rolled his eyes. “Go on.”
“Yes,” she said, looking up as she decided where to pick up on her story.
Then she nodded as she brought her gaze back down.
“Well, I staked out his usual spots, but he was nowhere to be seen. I left a note with a mutual friend, and he assured me that he would deliver it for me. And if he did, then I have a meeting in less than one hour. I think you can understand where you come into this.”
He shook his head. “Is this the same location where you were going to have me deliver a parcel?”
“No.”
Strange. Her reasons for having him assist her seemed to change like the ever-shifting wind. It was impossible to guess what she needed from him at any given time.
Finally, he relented. “Is it a reputable part of town?”
She held a hand in the air as if weighing her choice of answer. “Define reputable.”
“Is it safe?”
“It will be, with me there.”
“And you want me to go down there with you and speak with this middleman.”
She looked off to the side as she listened, nodding along. “Yes. Are you all right, Mr. Stanton? Or is there some head injury in your past I should know about?”
He fisted his hand, slapping it into the open palm of his other. “I suppose I am only processing what you are asking of me. And whether I wish to do it or not.”
“Oh, but you must!” She perched herself on the edge of her seat. “A gentleman cannot go back on his word, and you made your word to your friends that you would pay them their end of the wager.” Her catlike smile slipped back across her lips.
For a fleeting moment, Leonard wondered if he could humble himself enough to go slinking off to his father and ask for the money. But even the simple thought made his stomach and defenses harden.
He would not do it.
Leonard took a long breath through his nose, regaining his patience. “Let us get this over with.”
Her smile returned. “That’s the spirit.”