Page 18 of An Unbending Lady for the Desperate Earl
“Perhaps it may prove an education for you, to see how the other side lives.” The concerned furrow disappeared, leaving the somewhat mischievous, perpetually driven individual he had come to admire.
And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder what had caused that expression in the first place. Could it be that, despite all of her chiding to the contrary, she was embarrassed to show him where she hailed from? He couldn’t decide for sure. Perhaps it was something else, pertaining to the case. However, for his own part, he felt curious to discover more of the world that had made Miss Victoria McCarthy.
“I look forward to my education, then,” he said.
She smiled strangely, half-sad, half-pleased. “Do not be late. I cannot abide lateness.”
“I will not, Victoria.” The name grew easier to say with every usage.
“Just think, Lord Galbury—come Friday evening, we may capture the devils who have done this, and rescue Miss Longacre from a terrible fate,” she paused, “but that will only be the beginning of our trials, if we are successful.”
Christian frowned. “How so?”
“If they have these ladies imprisoned somewhere, then we will have only a short time in which to gain their location from the two men who have done this,” she explained, fully engrossed in her thoughts. “And if only one of these men is present at the ball, we may have to bide our time to avoid any warning being sent to his accomplice. Yes, we may have to…” she trailed off.
“May have to what?” Christian prompted, his stomach churning.
Victoria leveled her gaze at him. “Use Miss Longacre as bait.”
Chapter 9
Victoria stared at herself in the looking glass of her sometime bedchamber at her mother’s residence in Southwark. She didn’t know why she hadn’t suggested that Lord Galbury collect her from her own residence at the London Docks, above Benedict’s office. A momentary embarrassment at the thought of such a grand gentleman having to visit that grim area of London, she supposed.
It is not like me to feel embarrassment. Why, I hardly know the meaning of the word.She couldn’t fathom it in the slightest, but when Lord Galbury looked upon her, she found that she wished to be viewed by him in the best possible light. Another entirely new sensation to her, for she ordinarily could not give a fig what anyone thought, least of all a gentleman.
And now I am trussed up like a gaudy peacock. I may as well nip at my cheeks like one of those fancy ladies and complete this absurdity!The woman staring back at her through the mirror was one she hardly recognized as herself.
Her unruly raven hair had been tamed into submission by her mother’s skilled hands, and curled into a rather elegant style, with an emerald-green ribbon to hold it in place. Her lips held a flush of color, dabbed there at her mother’s insistence. Victoria thought she looked wholly ridiculous—a clown in a fine dress.
“Oh… my sweet girl!” her mother, Elizabeth McCarthy, who went by Betty to all who knew her, crowed from the doorway.
“I know, I look a fright.” Victoria observed the flowing gown that adorned her slender frame. It was not her natural figure, but her employment often meant she forwent meals for the sake of a case and being so active all the time had made her lithe and wiry where she ought to have been plump and fuller-figured, like her dear mother.
“On the contrary!” Betty chirped. “You look… why, you look like a true lady. If I were to see you in the street, I would think you highborn.”
Victoria pulled a sour face. “Now, I despise this frock all the more.”
“Nonsense. You look divine, my darling.” Betty came to stand beside her daughter and rested her hands on Victoria’s somewhat hunched shoulders. Gently, Betty pulled them backward, to give her daughter a more regal posture.
They will be hunched again before the night is out, Mother, no matter what you may try to do.Victoria preferred comfort over what was thought ‘beautiful’ or ‘elegant’ on a woman.
“I suppose it is fortunate that you would be fooled by my appearance.” Victoria relented slightly. “For if you are fooled, then perhaps I will pull the wool over the eyes of all those in attendance this evening.”
She observed her reflection again. Out of the three gowns that had hung dormant in her mother’s armoire, as a bygone remnant of that ball she had attended with her father, Victoria had selected this one: a sweeping gown of emerald satin, trimmed at the capped sleeves and rounded neckline with black lace. A black ribbon had been tied beneath her bust, to accentuate her shape. Another insistence of her mother’s, which she had deigned to go along with. After all, her mother knew how to be a woman more than she ever would.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Betty said softly. “It has been much too long since you came to the house. I’ve missed you.”
Victoria met her mother’s gaze in the mirror. “I’ve been busy.”
“You always say that.” Betty sighed, lowering her gaze. “You work too hard, Victoria. I would say it’s not right for a woman to work as you do, but I know it would fall on deaf ears. And I have seen the good you do in this city. I only wish you would come home more often, so I could be certain that you’re safe. Every evening, I wonder where you are, and if I might have to endure Benedict coming to my door, to tell me that some tragedy has befallen you.”
“It would be more likely that I would be coming to the door, telling you of some tragedy that had befallen Benedict.” Victoria’s attempt at a jest fell flat.
“It worries me, Victoria. I understand why you’re compelled to this calling, which I will blame your father for every day, until the day I die, but why must you live elsewhere? You have grown so thin, sweetheart. At least here, I could make sure you eat and get your rest.”
Victoria felt a grip of guilt in her chest. She had endured this conversation with her mother more times than she could count, and it never got any easier. In truth, she kept away from the house because she feared that, one day, her work might follow her home and put her mother in danger. But she couldn’t tell her mother that. It would only have worried her more.
“It’s easier to be near the office,” Victoria replied, with the same line she always used. “I work such strange hours that I would only disrupt you, or make you fret even more. You know this, Mama.”
