Chapter Five
It was a perfect night for spying.
There was no moon to reflect off his spyglasses. It had not rained that day, so the ground was not muddy and the bushes behind which he was hiding were not dripping moisture onto his head. A godsend considering one could be hiding in certain places in certain positions for many an hour.
He looked across the street and counted again the number of heads that passed behind the window, which he then checked against his list. Satisfied that he had all the correct information, Anthony Ashton rose from his position in Mrs. Hibbard’s front garden and brushed the earth from his knees.
Dressed as he was in all black and shrouded in a black cloak, he represented something neither real nor imaginary. A specter in the night.
This was the last of his current mission. Mrs. Hibbard and her cronies would be arrested for their part in a smuggling ring come morning. He would be there when they were all questioned to attest to their honesty. It was his particular skill.
Not that any of his family knew what he did.
So Anthony played his part, as did the other members of The Ring.
Quiet in the knowledge that he was good at what he did, respected by his fellow spies and needed by his country.
This part of his life was his own little secret, his own little white lie, his whole other life outside of the secure walls of his family.
It was a dangerous occupation to be sure, but one he thrived on.
How else could he mix such different lives together?
Where could he play a part only to leave it when he had discovered all he could or determined a certain amount of guilt?
Being a younger son and therefore of little consequence in the scheme of things allowed him to have a certain amount of freedom, a certain amount of respectability and a dash of anonymity.
It was as Stafford had put it, so very convenient.
Tony had returned from reporting his findings to Stafford and made his way home. Now his mission was Miss Sterling, but she was not his enemy. How to negotiate around this new duty? He had many missions involving women in his past, but they were not innocent debutantes, hell bent on marriage.
Downstairs, the butler intercepted him. “The dowager requests your presence in the morning room, my lord.”
“Thank you, Franklin.” He walked across the hall and opened the doors to see his mother, sister, and Miss Sterling huddled over some fashion plates. It looked as though all had been forgiven between them, but he was not sure he was.
The dowager looked up and smiled. “Ah, Tony dear, we have need of your assistance.”
“Ladies.” He bowed. “What can I help you with?”
“We need you to come with us to Madame Milicent’s.”
“The modiste on Bond Street? If that assistance requires me to pontificate over dresses, I am afraid I will be of no help.”
“Surely, you know what suits and what does not?” Marianne asked with a teasing brow.
Taking a small cake off a plate on the table, he sat in a chair. “I assure you, what fabric or color you choose is of no matter to me.” He popped the cake into his mouth.
“We require your attendance and that is that,” was all she said.
This made his head snap back as if punched in the face. “Surely, you jest, Mother.”
“I certainly do not.”
“What use will I be at a modiste?”
“You will be our judge. We will need your opinion on what a young man finds appealing.”
“I could not possibly have an opinion on the matter.”
“You have eyes, do you not?”
“That is beside the point, I…”
“Good. It is settled. We leave in a half hour. It is lucky for us that we have such a good standing with Madame Millicent.”
“Do not debutantes simply wear white?”
His sister and mother laughed. When he met Miss Sterling’s gaze, she simply blushed and shrugged.
The warmth on her cheeks was very becoming.
It animated her features and lit up her eyes.
He liked the look on her. He knew from experience that no amount of argument was going to be won by him, so conceded defeat.
“Very well, I will make sure that the carriage is ready.” As he waited, though, the thought of seeing Miss Sterling in a pretty dress appealed.
She was far too young to be wearing the drab colors he had seen her in.
He had never set foot inside a modiste. Was it the same as a tailor’s shop?
This could be more interesting than he thought.
The modiste was not interesting. He was bored. He had made a circuit around the shop several times. Held the door open for a multitude of women who came and went but not even a glimpse of his family or Miss Sterling in two hours. So much for his so-called opinion.
When his sister came out, she looked like she had been crying.
“What’s wrong?”
She simply smiled and said, “Nothing is wrong. You just wait and see.”
Then his mother emerged from behind the curtain, a smile on her face that he hadn’t seen since Marianne’s presentation to the queen. Now he was nervous, though he told himself he was merely curious to see what had brought on these emotions in his mother and sister.
Madame Millicent came out and waved towards the curtain.
“May I present, Miss Lucinda Sterling.” She pulled the curtain apart and there she stood.
On a small pedestal wearing a lovely dress of the palest green.
A dark emerald-green ribbon sat just under her bosom in the popular Empire style.
A matching ribbon in her hair and along the hem of the gown completed the look.
“Close your mouth dear,” his mother whispered in his ear. If clothes made the man, then it was the same for a woman. She had been pretty before, but now…?
She was staring at him, her large green eyes wide with uncertainty. He should do something, say something.
“Miss Sterling, you are… stunning.” And he meant it. The fit, the style, it all made sense to be on her body. The slight puffed sleeves and the low neckline. As her guardian, he should not be looking at her ample assets, but he could not look away.
“Isn’t she just exquisite?” his sister asked.
Tony nodded and said, “That dress, it accentuates your natural beauty. Please, never wear brown again.”
“Oh, la,” Madame Millicent said in her French accent. “I can promise you, my lord, that while I am her modiste she will never wear that shade again. Just one more thing.” She produced a transparent piece of material and tucked it in to her bodice. “Much more the thing for daytime.”
“I am most reassured, Madame,” he said. “Miss Sterling.” He held out his hand to her, and she put hers tentatively in his. “Are you happy?”
“Yes, thank you. I am so grateful. I mean I have never been so well looked after. Thank you, Madame.”
“It was my pleasure, ma chère. I will have your other dresses made up and sent over as soon as we can.” Madame Millicent then clapped her hands, and her assistants came out with bags and boxes, their arms full.
How were they all going to fit into the carriage? “What are all these?”
“A young lady, forced to flee in the night, cannot be without the essentials, my dear boy.”
“Mother,” he warned. He did not need a repeat of what had happened at dinner. Only, his mother was right; she had been forced to leave with nothing.
Marianne lifted both brows before she said, “Oh? How would you describe the debacle, dear brother?”
“A rushed exit without warning?” Miss Sterling offered with a smirk.
“Touché, Miss Sterling,” he replied. She was making light of it, and he found himself laughing, but when she smiled, his heart leaped in his chest. That smile was dangerous to a man’s equilibrium and the first one he had encountered since meeting her.
He wanted her to smile more. It suited her.
He decided to make it his mission to get her to smile at least twice more today.
“You look far too pretty to just ride home in the carriage, and I doubt there is room for us anyway. Let us send the carriage home and walk around the corner to the confectioners.”
“Oh yes,” Marianne gushed. “Can we, Mother?”
“Tony is right. We cannot waste a good dress sitting at home. Lead on.”
They made their farewell to Madame Millicent, sending home the carriage to return in an hour. His mother and Marianne walked arm in arm and that left Tony to offer his arm to Lucinda.
“Am I forgiven for my part in last night’s dinner? I really am sorry for my part in it and mentioning… well, your lack of dresses. It was unnecessary.”
She looked up at him as if gauging his sincerity. “I am the one that needs forgiveness. I was oversensitive.”
“Nonsense. We handled last night with no finesse or thought to your circumstances. For my part I am terribly sorry.”
She sighed. “Then you are forgiven.”
He smiled at her. Gone was the drab little orphan replaced by the beauty on his arm. “You really do look lovely, you know.”
She blushed again. “I am not used to flattery, my lord. I do not know what I should say. Miss Covington said that vanity was a sin.”
“Well, Miss Covington has not seen you in this dress, has she? And you should simply say thank you to compliments.”
“Even if the person saying it is not genuine?”
Did she doubt her own prettiness? “I assure you my compliment was sincere.”
“Marianne told me that men will say anything to get what they want. False flattery being quite common. They hope to woo a woman with poetry about one’s beauty or send notes of undying love after meeting only once. How am I to know who is genuine and who is not?”
“To some extent that is true, but must you lump us all together? That would be unfair. I think you will know a sincere gesture once you hear it. In any case, I will be there to guide you, I promise.”
She lifted a brow. “You should not make promises you cannot keep, my lord.”
“Ah, I deserved that. In my defense, I had no idea things would turn so quickly, and I do apologize for not holding up my end of the bargain.”
“That makes apology number three. For my part, I acted like a scared rabbit scurrying away at the first sign of the farmer. I am usually braver than that.”
“You are remarkable, Miss Sterling. To have survived Beckett’s hasty retrieval of your person in such a manner and not to have screamed the house down or fallen into fits of tears and nerves I will never know. For that you have my admiration.”
“I will use your advice and simply say, thank you.”
He tried to see her face, but he could not see her full expression around her new bonnet. “Excellent.” Tony held the door open and ushered her inside the small shop. His mother and Marianne had already gathered around the various displays of small cakes, jams, macaroons, sweetmeats, and syrups.
Miss Sterling looked around her in wonder. This was likely her first venture into a confectioner. He wanted to make it special for her. “I can recommend the lemon drops.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“Did you think we would come in here simply to look at the displays? You must buy a box of something. You can go and sample some of their wares at the counter. Off you go.” He gave her a friendly push.
It was not long before she was giggling with Marianne, where they were eagerly pointing at what they wanted to try.
“She’s a bright girl,” his mother said beside him.
“Yes, she is. How do you think she will go once in the marriage mart?”
“I have no doubt she will be a success. She does not have the same luxury as Marianne; she will have to marry fast. Once word gets around that she has a dowry all the worms will make their way out of the woodwork.”
“That is what I am afraid of. How will we handle things about her dowry? She must have some but not too much. I shall have to get in touch with her solicitor but in the meantime let us try not to speak of it at all.”
“I agree. She is na?ve in so many ways despite her so-called education. Finishing schools are not for daughters of the ton. That is why we educate them at home; there is no substitute for experience. She may know how to add up the household accounts, but does she know how to plan a dinner party? A luncheon? A ball?”
“I will have to depend on you for that. I still think it was a mistake for Markham to leave her with me. However, I am grateful for your help, Mama.”
“We have had a rough start, but Marianne is very much taken with her, which is a good sign. I am worried though.”
“About what?”
“One does not go through such a traumatic experience and simply wave it off. It is not healthy, my dear boy, not healthy at all.”
“I will keep an eye on her, but she is more likely to talk to Marianne than either of us. Let us hope she does so soon. Now what sweets would you like?”
“Oh!” Tony’s mother clapped her hands and hurried over to the two girls.
He watched them with amusement. He was not a sweet tooth himself, but he did not mind a well-made pastry now and again.
The carriage arrived out the front of the store and he managed to usher them back in without too much delay.
Overall, it had not been that bad of a day.
He had made his final report and managed to keep three women happy. Not a bad day at all.
The duke was not at home when they returned, so he left Miss Sterling with his mother and sister to unpack all her new purchases.
He went to his study, where he had a desk set up, and wrote down some notes in code.
He wrote to his friend Bellamy, who was currently rusticating with his wife and his newborn son, Henry, in the country.
He did not expect to see them in London this year but promised to come out and stay once the season was over and Miss Sterling had caught herself a husband.