Bridget examined the crushed calling card one more time, then headed back to the sideboard. After opening a bottle of whisky, she filled a glass with more than she should, downing it all in one go.
Her future and that of her family stood on a knife’s edge. If the Lintons could escape from this nightmare without it becoming public knowledge, she might finally have a chance to find contentment. To put the misery and heartache of her past to rest. She had as much invested in the outcome of the next few weeks as anyone else.
“Whoever you are, I will do all that you ask to save my mother’s reputation. But if you are a scoundrel seeking to profit from our misfortune, rest assured I will do everything in my power to destroy you.”
One person had already ruined her life. She would not stand for it to happen a second time.
Chapter Three
Later that morning, Stephen stood staring out the window of Lady Bridget’s drawing room watching the passing parade of London life. After the vexing night he had experienced, followed by the news of his father’s death, it was a pleasant relief to undertake such a mindless activity.
He turned as the door opened and through it stepped a tall, blonde woman in a gray gown. She held out a hand in greeting. Stephen took it and bowed his head.
“I am sorry if I kept you waiting. My household staff can be unreliable at times, and I was only just informed of your arrival,” she said.
“That’s perfectly alright. I was a little late for our appointment. This morning has not run according to my expected schedule.” One couldn’t plan for the news of a parent’s death, let alone when it had been the result of a violent altercation. Not that his new client needed to know any of those sordid and rather sad details.
“Lady Bridget Dyson, pleased to meet you,” she said.
“Sir Stephen Moore.”
A look of understanding and possible recognition appeared on her face, along with the hint of a blush on her cheeks.
“We have never met, Sir Stephen, but I am a friend of Lady Naomi Steele, and she has made mention of you at times. I must confess that I have heard the odd rumor about her brother, Lord Harry, so I am not entirely surprised to discover that the man Tristan has hired to help us also happens to be one of Harry’s business colleagues.”
He fixed his customary light air to his demeanor and smiled at her.
Everyone in London thinks they have the measure of the RR Coaching Company. Trust me, Lady Bridget, you only know what we allow you to perceive as being the truth.
“As far as I am aware, Lord Harry is a respectable businessman. My work with him is restricted to that of the RR Coaching Company. I cannot speak to anything else that he may be involved with, other than to advise you not to listen to speculation and rumor.”
It wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t to know that the RR Coaching Company was a front for all the illegal dealings of the rogues of the road.
Bridget nodded. “My apologies if I have offended you in any way.”
His gaze drifted from the drab of her gown to her face. A pair of almost iridescent blue eyes stared back at him, and his heart skipped a beat.
How did I miss those stunning eyes?
Stephen’s mind slipped back into the days of his youth. Lady Bridget’s eyes were almost a perfect match for the warm waters of Lake Annecy in France.Utter perfection.A man could gladly lose himself in those blue pools.
Goodness gracious she is a delight. Gosh.
When had he started speaking like the queen?
Get a hold of yourself, man. You are not one for getting into a wobble over a woman. She is your client. Calm down.
He blinked hard in an effort to regain control.
“No offense taken, Lady Dyson. If I am honest about it, I think Lord Harry enjoys creating rumors. A man who dresses as outrageously as my good friend does, knows full well that people are inclined to talk about him.”
Bridget smiled. “Yes. While I haven’t been about in society much over the past year, one cannot ever forget the spectacle of Lord Harry Steele making his entrance to a party clad in a bright purple and yellow banyan with matching fez. The stuffed peacock he carried under his arm was quite the talking point of the evening.”
Stephen chuckled. “You haven’t seen him getting about with Milton, his piglet. Now that is a sight. Even the piglet seems to think it amusing.”
He wasn’t going to make mention of the fact that he too had a soft spot for Milton, or that rubbing the piglet’s belly and hearing its little grunts was a source of particular enjoyment for him.
A moment of awkward silence followed before Bridget motioned to the nearby sofa. “Shall we get started? I expect your time is valuable, Sir Stephen.”
