Page 34 of How to Tempt an Earl

Prudence pursed her lips. “Where?”

Grace pushed a wayward dark curl off her shoulder and turned to Prudence. “It was a brief encounter.”

“How brief?”

“I was walking in Hyde Park with Adam. My brother loves the park, and this time of year is lovely and—”

“What about Castleton? You must have seen the earl up close, and in daylight. I’ve met his mother and his sisters, of course, but not the earl.”

Grace’s mind spun as she concocted her story. “Adam twisted an ankle. Nothing serious. Castleton carried Adam and hired a hack.” Once she started, she couldn’t stop. She wanted to tell Prudence something, but this story was sure to cause more questions.

“There has been much gossip about him,” Prudence said.

“What gossip?”

“There are rumors he owns an exclusive gaming club and an establishment where even ladies attend, wearing masks to protect their anonymity.”

Grace’s heart began to pound. “Truly?”

“Yes. I’ve even heard bare-knuckled boxing takes place there, and ladies can place wagers on their favorite pugilists. I’d give my two front teeth to don a mask and go to one of those clubs. Wouldn’t you?”

“I have no desire to see a boxing match, and a gambling hall holds no interest for me. I despise them.”

Prudence’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I know you worry about your father’s fondness for the tables. I admire you, Grace. I don’t know how you can work tirelessly on those ledgers for that proprietress.”

“I like the milliner, Mrs. Kent, and I enjoy my work.”

Prudence gave her an incredulous look. “How on earth do you sort out all those tiny figures?”

“The calculations are not difficult, just time consuming. You must maintain good records and line the numbers up correctly.”

Prudence scoffed. “I will gladly take your word for it.”

They were coming close to the shop now. Grace reached for the door. “I need for you and Rose to stand guard while I conduct my business.”

The shop’s bells chimed as the door opened and closed. A woman with dark curls fading gently to gray and wearing thick spectacles stood behind a counter. She was brushing a green velvet hat and looked up when they stepped inside the shop. Her gaze moved between Grace and Prudence.

“Good morning, ladies,” she said.

“Good day,” Prudence said.

It was always the same. Mrs. Kent never let on that she knew Grace. It was one of the reasons Grace had felt comfortable agreeing to handle the widow’s books secretly.

They strolled into the shop where a handful of ladies were examining and trying on the wares. Bonnets decorated with feathers, ribbons, lace, fake flowers, and spangles were displayed on stands around the shop. More bonnets, hats, and turbans made from silk, satin, velvet, and straw were arranged on tables. Grace nodded to the other shoppers as she walked past the shopkeeper and slipped her package on the counter.

“Did you have trouble with your items, miss?” Mrs. Kent asked. To any in the store, it would appear as if Grace were a customer who wished to speak with the proprietress.

“Only as noted.”

Mrs. Kent lowered her voice and leaned on the counter. “Ah, I have more work for you. Also, the tobacconist shop next door could use your services. I never mentioned your name, of course.”

“Of course,” Grace whispered.

She trusted Mrs. Kent to keep her confidence. She’d been working for the widow for a little over six months now after her husband’s passing. Mr. Kent had handled the shop’s accounting needs, and his wife had been struggling to take over the task. Grace had happened to be in the shop to hear Mrs. Kent complaining to her son about the ledgers, and she’d offered to work for the woman. It had been a mutually beneficial relationship. But to begin work for another business could impose risk.

She hadn’t lied to Prudence. She was good at her work and enjoyed it. More compellingly, she needed the money. Grace’s arrangement with Ian would erase her father’s debt to the Raven Club. But she still needed money to ensure the smooth running of the household and to properly take care of Adam.

Grace smiled at Mrs. Kent, feigning interest in the green velvet hat in the shopkeeper’s hands. “Please tell the owner I shall visit to discuss his offer.” Like many aristocracy, her father used snuff. No one would question her presence in the shop, especially if she picked up a tin of her father’s favorite tobacco during her visits.