“I shall make myself so.”
“You really do love your wife.”
“All I’ve ever wanted is for her to be happy.”
At half seven, Thursday evening, with all her chores done, Daisy feigned a megrim and retired to her bedchamber, grateful Bishop had no lady friends visiting that night requiring she carry up any trays. He’d gone out earlier, apparently to enjoy dinner with friends. After arriving in her room, she changed out of her uniform and into her simple gray frock. A few minutes later, she managed to slip out of the residence with no one the wiser and made her way to the street where Mr. Parker was waiting for her in his carriage.
Although he hadn’t given her the specifics, he’d offered her a rather large amount in addition to the already agreed upon cost of her services because he needed a witness in hand for this evening. She wondered if perhaps Bishop wasn’t with friends, but with the man’s wife, and Mr. Parker knew where to find them so they could be caught in the act. She rather hoped, if that was the case, they wouldn’t be too far into the act.
Mr. Parker had assured her that after tonight they’d have all they required so she could resign from her post at Bishop’s. She didn’t much like admitting her mixed feelings regarding that possibility. The rapscallion intrigued her far too much.
Every time she decided he was an absolute scoundrel, he did something incredibly unscoundrel-like. Last night when she’d gone up to deliver the tray to him and Blue-Eyes, she’d heard laughter coming from the room and had hesitated to knock, to interrupt. The sound had seemed so natural, as though they truly enjoyed each other’s company. For a moment, she’d been jealous that her occupation made her suspicious of him and his actions. She couldn’t simply accept a smile, or a question, or a bit of conversation without wondering at the true reason behind it. She’d become incredibly guarded with her own emotions, but her reason there was more because of her parents than anything. In addition, the untrustworthy sorts she encountered certainly didn’t diminish her fear of being hurt, of trusting someone only to discover she shouldn’t.
When she’d finally rapped on the door, and his deep voice had bidden her entry, she walked in to see the couple sitting on opposite ends of the settee, he again comfortably attired in little save his boots, trousers, and shirtsleeves, his long legs stretched before him. Blue-Eyes was holding a gossip rag, and Daisy was left with the impression the woman had been reading snippets from it in order to keep him amused. Without being asked, she carried the tray to the low table that always began its night against the wall and deposited the tray.
“Oh, look here,” Mrs. Bowles announced. “Something about your friend the Duke of Kingsland strutting about. Speculation is that his duchess might be with child.” She glanced over the top of the paper. “Is she?”
“You know I don’t discuss my friends’ personal lives.”
Reaching out, she playfully slapped his arm. “You’re absolutely no fun at all.” Then tilting her head slightly, she looked at Daisy. “Don’t you quite agree?”
Bishop glanced over his shoulder, pinning Daisy with a stare as effectively as if he’d shot an arrow into her and secured her against a tree. She was relatively certain he was daring her to answer the question that never should have been asked of her, a servant. She hardly knew how to respond. While she wouldn’t describe him as carefree, she had enjoyed his companyat the club. Other times as well. In the hallway. In his library. While she might not label their time together following the incident at the Cerberus as enjoyable, she had to acknowledge that his opening up to her had created a sort of intimacy as well as satisfaction, because she rather doubted he’d ever shared his mother’s story with anyone. But he’d told it to her and in the telling had handed her something precious.
The woman moved to the edge of the cushion as though waiting on pins and needles for Daisy’s response. Bishop didn’t appear to even be breathing. Daisy finally decided upon, “It’s not my place to say.” She ensured her tone signaled a clear message that no amount of cajoling would result in a different answer, because she was reasonably certain Blue-Eyes wasn’t one to give up easily, especially when mirth was dancing in those eyes for which he’d named her. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
For the briefest of seconds, it looked as though he might do the cajoling, but instead he settled back, seemingly relaxed. “No. Thank you.”
She headed for the door, stopped, turned. “How is your hand?”
He opened it, closed it, flexed it again. “Much better.”
“I’m glad.” She gave a quick curtsy. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Oh, we shall,” Mrs. Bowles said, and Daisy heard her tittering laughter as she closed the door in her wake and had the absurd thought that she hoped the woman might choke on one of the grapes she’d left for her. However, Daisy’s hopes did not bear fruit as she and Sarah had not needed to drag any inert forms from the bedchamber that morning.
Now as the carriage rattled along, she focused her attention on the man sitting across from her. The man who had greeted her and then lapsed into silence as the horses set the vehicle into motion.
“I love a good mystery,” she said quietly after a time. It was part of the reason she’d become an inquiry agent. “Am I to deduce where we’re going?”
“To a brothel.”
She felt as though she’d been smacked. “Bishop is taking your wife to a brothel?” That made absolutely no sense.
“No, it’s not my wife’s infidelities I want you to witness, but my own.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I wanted proof she had strayed, but now that I have it, I realize for her to have any hope at happiness in the future, I must play the villain. I have been assured that a peephole looks into the room where I’ll have my liaison. You need not observe the entire encounter, simply enough of it so you can convince a court I was unfaithful.”
“Mr. Parker—”
“I realize I’m asking a great deal of you. If the sum to which we’ve agreed isn’t enough, I can provide more.”
Her job was to get the results her clients were paying for. It was not to convince them that they’d gone rather mad, and yet, she couldn’t be silent when she feared he was making a grave mistake. Especially when he was so undeserving of all the unhappiness showered upon him. “Are you certain this is the wisest course?”
“Divorce is not pretty, Miss Townsend, but there is no reason it must be absolutely hideous.”
“I hope someday you will find a woman who appreciates you, Mr. Parker. You are too kind by half.”
