gave to a smitten young man to persuade him to keep her secret? Or would she truly be in danger? Of course there were many gentlemen who held grudges. But as the wife of the Earl of Northwick, would she not enjoy complete protection?
He resisted the thought, but it came anyway; would Ash be better able to protect her?
“ Well,” came Harcourt’s voice, through a haze of cigar smoke swirling around his head. “We at least know my plan worked. We provoked her, and she appeared.”
With all the commotion, North had completely forgotten about the plan.
“Well, then,” he said. “Let’s do it again.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Scarlet Plumiere sat at her dressing table searching the mirror before her for any sign of her mother. The slant of her nose, perhaps. Something similar there. And a look about her eyes.
Papa always told her there was a bit of her mother in her eyes when she laughed.
Summoning a false smile, she could not see it. Nothing mischievous. Nothing cunning in her eyes this morning. Perhaps if she had enjoyed a more successful night of sleep, she would look a bit more intelligent. But how could she expect to sleep when her fate might be revealed in the next edition of The Journal? As soon as she could get a paper in her hands, she would know if the boy had kept her secret.
The suspense kept her mind from settling ‘til nearly dawn. Had she remembered how early the paper would arrive, she would not have been able to sleep even then. But she’d forgotten, then she’d slept like the dead, and now it was too late.
If she did not get up earlier than her father, she had to wait for the man to finish with his morning read before she could have her turn. Sometimes it took him all of the morning, depending on the news of the day. And worse, sometimes the man forgot he had read the thing and started over once again.
But it was not the waiting that most concerned her, or even her fate, it was the reminder that her father’s mind was slipping further by the day.
Stella toed the door open, breakfast tray in hand and a grin on her face.
“Hopkins thought you might enjoy your own copy of The Capital Journal today, my lady.” The maid quickly placed the tray before her.
And so he had! There, next to her usual fare lay a lovely, crisp copy of the paper. But she restrained herself. First, she took two sips of tea and two bites of a warm roll, fortified herself with a bite of sausage, then chased it all down with a larger mouthful of tea. If the tray were returned to the kitchens untouched, she would be served enormous amounts of food all day. Best not to insult the cook or concern Mr. Hopkins. Since the butler had confessed his knowledge of her clandestine deeds, he had been a bit more bossy than usual. But she knew it for the affection it was.
She could wait no longer and pushed the tray to the side. The nosey staff would just have to face the fact that the morning was a bit too tenuous to include the cleaning of one’s breakfast tray.
With shaking hands, she picked up the paper. She leafed through the pages and could not find the personal section!
“It has to be here! They have never let me down before.”
She started again, from the beginning. It was right where it always was, directly after the fashion page. She sighed in relief.
Stella leaned over her shoulder.
“I do not see why they do not put it right there on the front page. I am sure it is the first thing everyone will be reading this morning.”
“Nonsense. Only gossipy women read my articles, and the men who get exposed.”
Stella snorted. "Surely you do not really believe that, my lady. Common and gentlemen alike go after the newsies like the last fish in the basket. When you are after someone, the paper does triple their business to be sure.”
The Plumiere had never considered what affect she might have on the newspaper. Still, it was flattering to know she was the source of entertainment for some. She had thought herself quite
He resisted the thought, but it came anyway; would Ash be better able to protect her?
“ Well,” came Harcourt’s voice, through a haze of cigar smoke swirling around his head. “We at least know my plan worked. We provoked her, and she appeared.”
With all the commotion, North had completely forgotten about the plan.
“Well, then,” he said. “Let’s do it again.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Scarlet Plumiere sat at her dressing table searching the mirror before her for any sign of her mother. The slant of her nose, perhaps. Something similar there. And a look about her eyes.
Papa always told her there was a bit of her mother in her eyes when she laughed.
Summoning a false smile, she could not see it. Nothing mischievous. Nothing cunning in her eyes this morning. Perhaps if she had enjoyed a more successful night of sleep, she would look a bit more intelligent. But how could she expect to sleep when her fate might be revealed in the next edition of The Journal? As soon as she could get a paper in her hands, she would know if the boy had kept her secret.
The suspense kept her mind from settling ‘til nearly dawn. Had she remembered how early the paper would arrive, she would not have been able to sleep even then. But she’d forgotten, then she’d slept like the dead, and now it was too late.
If she did not get up earlier than her father, she had to wait for the man to finish with his morning read before she could have her turn. Sometimes it took him all of the morning, depending on the news of the day. And worse, sometimes the man forgot he had read the thing and started over once again.
But it was not the waiting that most concerned her, or even her fate, it was the reminder that her father’s mind was slipping further by the day.
Stella toed the door open, breakfast tray in hand and a grin on her face.
“Hopkins thought you might enjoy your own copy of The Capital Journal today, my lady.” The maid quickly placed the tray before her.
And so he had! There, next to her usual fare lay a lovely, crisp copy of the paper. But she restrained herself. First, she took two sips of tea and two bites of a warm roll, fortified herself with a bite of sausage, then chased it all down with a larger mouthful of tea. If the tray were returned to the kitchens untouched, she would be served enormous amounts of food all day. Best not to insult the cook or concern Mr. Hopkins. Since the butler had confessed his knowledge of her clandestine deeds, he had been a bit more bossy than usual. But she knew it for the affection it was.
She could wait no longer and pushed the tray to the side. The nosey staff would just have to face the fact that the morning was a bit too tenuous to include the cleaning of one’s breakfast tray.
With shaking hands, she picked up the paper. She leafed through the pages and could not find the personal section!
“It has to be here! They have never let me down before.”
She started again, from the beginning. It was right where it always was, directly after the fashion page. She sighed in relief.
Stella leaned over her shoulder.
“I do not see why they do not put it right there on the front page. I am sure it is the first thing everyone will be reading this morning.”
“Nonsense. Only gossipy women read my articles, and the men who get exposed.”
Stella snorted. "Surely you do not really believe that, my lady. Common and gentlemen alike go after the newsies like the last fish in the basket. When you are after someone, the paper does triple their business to be sure.”
The Plumiere had never considered what affect she might have on the newspaper. Still, it was flattering to know she was the source of entertainment for some. She had thought herself quite
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