Page 2 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

“You are too kind, my lord,” Jeremy said as he walked the man to the door. “And I do believe I will take you up on the offer when I have the chance.”

They said their goodbyes, and once Wilmore was gone, Jeremy rushed back into the heart of his shop to gather the things he would need for the call he was about to pay.

“Why are you going to this Mr. Conroy instead of having him come here?” Timothy asked as Jeremy rushed around, gathering supplies as the young men who worked for him sewed away.

“Not ‘Mr.’ Conroy,” Artie corrected Timothy, “Sir John Conroy. He’s a particular friend of the Duchess of Kent.”

“And who’s she when she’s at home?” Timothy asked.

Artie sputtered and huffed incredulously. “Do you know nothing? She’s the mother of Princess Victoria, the heir to the throne. If you listen to the gossip, which I don’t generally,” Artie added, sending Jeremy a look as if he wasn’t sure whether Jeremy would approve of his staff gossiping, “the Duchess and Sir John want to set up a regency to rule in Princess Victoria’s place, should our good King William die before she comes of age.”

“Oh,” Timothy said as Jeremy shrugged into his coat and took up his tailoring bag. “And the king’s deathly ill, ain’t he?”

“Isn’t he,” Jeremy corrected the lad, even though he didn’t mind if Timothy maintained his low-born ways. He wouldn’t get far in the tailoring world if he didn’t lose his base accent and learn to speak like a gentleman, though. “I’m off,” he told the boys. “I should return by this evening.”

“Yes, Mr. Wilkes,” the two of them answered almost in unison.

Jeremy sent them a parting smile—he really was pleased with his staff, although he would need to hire another skilled tailor if things continued the way they had been—and set out to make his appointment with Sir John.

When the request to consult with Sir John Conroy about expanding his wardrobe and adding a few quality pieces for state events and such had been issued, Jeremy had been incredibly flattered. On the face of things, Sir John wasn’t any better than half the men Jeremy counted among his clientele. But the connection to the crown, though vague, was undeniable.

That was reflected in the note that had arrived at the shop first thing that morning asking Jeremy to meet with Sir John at Kensington Palace instead of at Sir John’s residence. Jeremy had been asked to attend a few members of the nobility for consultations and measurements at more than a few of the grandest houses in London, but he’d never been asked to meet with someone at a palace.

Of course, getting into the palace was more of a chore than it should have been. The Kensington Palace staff were rigid in their rules and protocols. Even though Jeremy arrived at the back and was seen in through the kitchen and servants’ hall, he had to undergo a veritable interrogation by the butler, then was shown to a remote receiving room far away from the center of the palace to wait.

Finally, a good half hour after the time appointed for him to see Sir John, he was taken to a different room deeper in the palace.

“There you are,” Conroy greeted him curtly. “We do not have much time. I am expecting…someone else.”

“Very well, sir,” Jeremy said with a gracious nod. “If you would be so kind as to instruct your man to bring the valise I arrived with to us so that I can show you the fabric samples and drawings I have brought for you.”

“What?” Conroy snapped, looking exceedingly nervous and put-out.

“I had a bag with the tools of my profession with me when I arrived,” Jeremy explained, “but it was confiscated for investigation. I do have my measuring tape, though,” he added, taking the tape from his pocket. “We can begin while my bag is located.”

“I suppose,” Conroy said. He glanced past Jeremy to the liveried footman. “Find Mr. Wilkes’s bag and bring it here at once.”

“Yes, sir.” The footman bowed, then left.

“If you would be so kind as to remove your jacket, I shall take your measurements,” Jeremy said as affably as he could.

In fact, he instantly disliked Conroy. He’d heard rumors, but seeing for himself that the man was cold, strained, and anxious was telling. He had nothing to say to the man as he flitted around him, measuring his arms, chest, waist, and other necessary parts, and Conroy didn’t seem particularly inclined to speak to him either. More than that, if the curl of Conroy’s lip every time Jeremy touched him was any indication, Conroy could sense what he was and despised him for it.

When the measurements were done and the footman still hadn’t returned, Jeremy felt incredibly awkward just standing there with the man.

“Perhaps I could go in search of my things?” he asked Conroy with forced affability.

Conroy huffed a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “I did not bring you here to snoop around the palace,” he began.

He stopped suddenly as a flash of movement appeared just beyond the half-closed door at the other end of the room.

“Yes, go and find your things,” Conroy said, going stiff. He waved Jeremy toward the opposite door as if pretending to be casual, but if anything, he’d suddenly become more anxious.

“I shall be but a moment, sir,” Jeremy said with a nod, then turned to go.

He was eager to get away from Conroy and a bit worried that it was taking so long for the footman to return with his things.

No sooner had he crossed into the other room when he heard the sound of footsteps as someone else joined Conroy and their overly loud whisper of, “I’ve obtained the poison, sir.”

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