Page 9 of Indecently Daring

I swear I mean you no harm, and that my intentions, while selfish, are entirely honourable.

―Excerpt of a letter to Miss Emmeline Knight (daughter of Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight) from The Most Hon’ble Leander Steyning, The Marquess of Wrexham.

6th January 1845, Holbrook House, Sussex.

“Four hams, two bottles of port and six jars of preserves!” Cat said triumphantly to Aunt Harriet as the footman carried in their spoils.

“All from Mr Davies?” her aunt said in astonishment. “I don’t believe it.”

Alana laughed and gestured to Cat with a flourish. “May I present your secret weapon, Aunt. No one can resist her, I swear. Not only was Mr Davies putty in her hands, but even Mrs Davies liked her. It was she who donated the jam, and it's her best blackberry jam. Apparently, it's famous in these parts.”

“It is,” Aunt Harriet agreed, looking quite stunned.

“We also visited two other houses and stopped off at the bakers, so we have two lace hankies, six balls of wool, an Encyclopaedia Britannica, and the baker has promised to make two selection boxes of cakes and biscuits,” Alana said triumphantly.

“Well, I am impressed, girls. Truly. And, if you can get such a generous donation from Mr Davies, we shall be inundated.”

“I am at your disposal,” Cat said cheerfully, tugging at her bonnet ribbons and casting it to one side.

“She should work for the government,” Alana said, regarding her friend with fascination. “She’d make the most marvellous spy. I’ve never seen such a talent for wheedling information out of people. It was quite Machiavellian.”

“What kind of information?” Aunt Harriet demanded, leading them into her cosy parlour.

“Oh, the useful kind,” Cat said with a grin. “Like the fact Mrs Parker has a surplus of green satin sitting in her storeroom and she’s just taken delivery of two dozen kid gloves, that Mr and Mrs Clark could certainly spare a goose or two, and Mr Saunders had a mysterious delivery two nights ago that chinked and had French writing over the crates.”

“In other words, you can add a bolt of green satin, at least three pairs of kids gloves, two geese and three bottles of cognac to your list for the auction,” Alana said, shaking her head with undisguised admiration as she took a seat by the fire.

The day had remained bright and sunny, but it was bitterly cold, and her toes were numb, despite the sturdy boots she favoured. Cat’s feet must be like blocks of ice. Alana gazed at the dainty toes peeking out from beneath Cat’s fashionable gown. She’d not complained of the cold, not even once.

Alana’s stomach gave an audible growl, and she clutched at it. “Sorry. I’m famished.”

“How can you be famished?” Cat demanded. “I saw what you ate for breakfast. Sausages and bacon and eggs, and three slices of toast and jam!”

Alana shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m hungry.”

Aunt Harriet laughed, smiling at her indulgently. “I’ll see if luncheon is ready.”

Once she was gone, Alana stretched luxuriously, like a cat, relishing the heat of the fire as it warmed her frozen toes.

“What were you talking to Reverend Martin about earlier?” Cat asked, curiosity in her eyes.

Alana shrugged. “Nothing much. I just wondered why he’d been so unkind to the young woman with the jam tarts.”

Cat frowned. “Well, he didn’t want to encourage her attentions, obviously.”

“Oh,” Alana said, brought up short. “Was it obvious?”

“Er, yes.” Cat replied, staring at her as if she were a half-wit. “Good Lord, Lana, you have been out of society far too long if you couldn’t see that.”

Alana bit her lip, feeling suddenly rather guilty.

“What on earth did you say to him?” Cat demanded.

“Nothing!” she protested, her cheeks growing warm. “Only… well, I might have accused him of lying.”

“Lana!” Cat’s eyes grew wide. “You accused the vicar of lying?”

“And I might have suggested he was unkind,” she added, her cold toes curling with mortification.