Chapter Twelve
There was another world that existed between dreams and reality, and that was where Leonard currently resided. Bits of the night clung to him, dreams of Samuel and his father, disappointment swirling in his mind. And yet, a light tugged at him, calling him out of those memories and feelings.
Mr. Stanton.
He buried his face in his pillows, his father’s face still scowling at him, with Samuel smiling just behind. The paradox of their expressions only caused Leonard to thrash his head. He could feel the soft case of his pillow, but sleep hadn’t completely lost its grip.
Mr. Stanton!
Why would his father or Samuel refer to him so formally? Little by little, Leonard became more aware of his surroundings. Light filled his room, and a hand touched his shoulder.
He pushed up from his bed with a start, ending up on all fours with his blanket draped across his back.
“Mr. Stanton.” Fitzroy was standing beside his bed, looking for all intents and purposes quite upset.
Throwing the blankets off and leaning back so he was upright on his knees, Leonard rubbed his face. “What is the matter, Fitzroy?” It was very unlike him to come in and wake him like this.
“That woman,” he bit out. “She is here.”
“What?” Leonard’s hands dropped from his face. “What time is it?”
“It is eight o’clock.”
“And someone is here?” He hopped out of his bed, then walked to the window and glanced down at the street.
Fitzroy stayed near the bed. “Yes. That Mrs. Gillingham. I told her it was not yet visiting hours, but she refused to leave.”
“Wonderful,” Leonard all but moaned, running a hand through his wild hair. He must have been thrashing quite a bit to cause such tangles. “Did she say why she was here?”
“No. I made her wait in the morning room.”
Scuffing sleep-warmed hands over his face again, he addressed his employee once more. “I need a warm basin, please. And I shall need help dressing before I go downstairs.”
Fitzroy bobbed a quick bow. “Of course, sir.” Quick as ever, he left the room.
Leonard walked back to his bed and sat on the edge, trying to wake himself enough to grasp the reality of what was happening.
But his dream warred with his thoughts. His father’s expectations, Samuel’s sweet disposition and failing body.
Both reminders of what Leonard was supposed to be doing in London in the first place.
Instead, he was gallivanting about London with a criminal.
The door opened, and Fitzroy hurried in with the pitcher of water, which Leonard used to quickly wash his face and run his wet fingers through his hair.
“I asked Mrs. Ayles to bring up some tea as well.”
“Very good.” He splashed another dose of water onto his face. It would take all his wits to deal with Mrs. Gillingham this morning. Why on earth was the woman even here?
With a warm cup of tea now in hand, dressed in breeches, a shirt, a waistcoat, and a coat, he made his way downstairs.
There she was, sitting on his parents’ settee, looking for all the world as if it wasn’t strange at all for her to be in their townhouse at eight in the morning.
“This is an early visit,” he said, his voice still gravelly from sleep. He walked with care to keep his tea from sloshing, then took a seat across from her. “Which seems a tad unnecessary to me.”
“Time is of the essence, Leonard.”
He took a deep breath and sipped his drink.
It would be futile to point out that she shouldn’t address him as such.
Nothing about this woman was conventional.
She thieved and was a widow in her early twenties, giving her a strange independence most young women didn’t have.
“How did you learn my name?” he asked instead.
She smiled, eyeing the cup in his hands. “I heard the gentlemen referring to you as Leonard last night.” Then she leaned forward. “Are you going to offer me tea?”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” He took a long, slurping sip just to make his point, then smacked his lips. “Mm. Quite good.”
She rolled her eyes. “Anyway. We have work to do, and I thought it best to get an early start.”
Leonard grimaced, lowering his cup. “I am not a person who enjoys early mornings.”
“Ah, so you are a man of the evening?”
“No.” He jerked his head. “I am not that either.”
“That might not work in our favor, for I am both.”
“Good thing this situation will not last long. Then I can go on sleeping in and be home reading by myself in the evening, and you can go on doing whatever it is that you do.”
“Except no more thieving. I made a vow.”
“Yes, you did.” He took another sip of tea, then he finally felt a bit of guilt for his rudeness as he began to waken and get his wits about him. He stood, then rang a bell. Fitzroy came a moment later.
“A pot of tea if you wouldn’t mind, Fitzroy.” Leonard turned back to Mrs. Gillingham. “Now, what is it I have to do today? Pet a tiger from the royal menagerie?”
“We need to figure out where Mr. Fagean lives and his daily habits.”
“Why?” Leonard took a few steps closer. “You will not steal this necklace back.”
She sighed, then watched as Fitzroy rolled the tea cart in. Once he left the room, she helped herself to a cup and stirred a bit of cream inside. “No. I am not planning to steal it. But I need to find a way to be introduced to him and his wife.”
“We can’t just go and ask to buy the necklace?”
With a roll of her eyes, she took a drink of her tea. “No,” she said after swallowing it down. “That would be most suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I suppose.” He leaned against the wall behind him. “I just want this ugly affair over.”
“I understand. But I promise you will be rid of me soon enough.”
“I still don’t think it necessary to start this early in the day. I will have to ask you not to show up again at such an hour.”
“That may be an impossible task.”
“Because?”
She smiled over the rim of her cup. “Because you look rather adorable when you are awoken first thing.”
His hand immediately shot to his hair. True, he hadn’t put in any pomade, but he had combed it.
Was it that obvious? Feeling strangely vulnerable, he instead turned his attention to the window, pulling the drapes to the side as he glanced down the street.
Sure enough, he could see her garish carriage. “Will we take your carriage?”
“I had thought of hiring one. Mine might draw attention.”
“Without a doubt.” His eyes were nearly blinded by the yellow even from this distance. “Why such an outlandish color?”
“I like the attention.”
He glanced back at her. At least she was bold enough to admit the truth, which Leonard could begrudgingly appreciate. “You didn’t seem to last night.”
Her smile fell, but she shrugged it off. “Meeting new people can be overwhelming.”
“You’ve never seemed overwhelmed by me.”
She stood, straightening her attire. Then she asked, without glancing at him, “Are you ready to leave?”
“Can I at least finish my tea?” Without waiting for her to answer, he walked over and retook his seat.
She tipped her cup back, finishing the remainder of her tea before setting her cup down and then walking over to him.
With her gaze looking him up and down, Leonard felt himself sinking lower into his chair. How he wished he could go back upstairs to bed. But this woman was his means to an end, and the sooner they could get this awful ordeal over with, the better.
Then her eyes caught on a painting hanging above the mantel. “Is that your family?”
He sat up in his chair. Why did she feel the need to pry into his personal life? That had nothing to do with their current endeavor. “I don’t feel that’s important at the moment.”
His words had no effect on her as she now stood below the painting, studying it with a finger pressed to her chin. “You look like your father.”
“Please don’t say that.” He rubbed his brow, then stood and refilled his cup.
“Why not? He is an attractive man. And your brother . . .”
Leonard’s hand froze, lingering in the air above the cream. “What about him?” The man who had painted their family’s portrait had specifically been told to make Samuel look healthy. But healthy to their family and healthy to the rest of the world were different things.
“I do see a resemblance. But I believe he favors your mother more.”
Lucky man. At least in that one regard. “Yes. I would agree with you.”
She spun toward him, a pleased smile on her face. “That is the first thing we have agreed upon, I believe. A triumph.”
With his cup now replenished, he ambled back to his chair and plopped into it.
“More tea?” Mrs. Gillingham sighed as she paced the room. “I am quite anxious to be on our way.”
“And I am quite content to finish my cup.” He nearly grinned as she crossed her arms at his response. The woman was clearly not accustomed to being at someone else’s disposal.
Finally, much to Leonard’s chagrin, his cup was empty, and he had no excuse to postpone the day any longer. “All right.” He sighed, standing. “Let us get on with it.”
She didn’t waste a moment, making for the door quickly—and he allowed himself a moment of weakness to appreciate her figure as he watched her go.