Page 53 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“Yes, but . . .”

Let her squirm her way out of that one, thought Elspeth uncharitably, wishing she needn’t think about Gloriana’s suggestion but knowing she had no choice. Knowing this might be her only chance for love . . . but at what risk?

“They can’t convict him of theft if he has no stolen goods on him,” Gloriana said.

Perhaps not—although Elspeth didn’t trust magistrates either. “Even an accusation would ruin Mr. Turner’s reputation.”

Gloriana gave that an entire two seconds’ worth of thought. “Very well, he needn’t take the book. All I want to know is where Lord Hythwick keeps it. Once I know that, I’ll find a way to get it. Perhaps I can hire a burglar again.”

Elspeth considered Gloriana’s proposal but couldn’t find an objection.

“You told me Mr. Turner wasn’t happy in Hythwick’s service,” Gloriana said. “This is his chance to leave him—to set up a business of his own. Former valets often become innkeepers, for example. Or tailors. My brother will pay well to get the book back, and just think! Mr. Turner would then be able to afford a wife.”

Elspeth sat down. Yearning washed over her. Temptation gnawed. If only . . .

This was ridiculous. She didn’t even know if Mr. Turner cared for her. In fact, she was almost certain he didn’t. Those kisses had probably meant nothing to him. She stood and paced to the window. It was rude to turn her back to her mistress, but she didn’t care. She watched a few carriages roll by. Watched pigeons bickering on the pavement. Watched a maid belatedly sweeping a doorstep across the way.

Gloriana’s voice scattered her thoughts. “I shall miss you sorely, Elspeth, but this may be your only chance of marriage. You deserve that chance.”

Elspeth sighed.

“Well?”

Elspeth gritted her teeth. She needed time. “I’ll think about it, Miss Glow.”

“Think about what? It’s not complicated. All I want you to do is contact him for me. Lord Hythwick’s house isn’t far from here. Surely his servants and mine frequent the same taverns on their evenings off.”

Grrr. “Mr. Turner goes to the Bull and Crown from time to time.” But he’d made no attempt to talk to her since that horrid day last summer. A casual nod, after which he averted his eyes, couldn’t be called encouraging. She gazed down at her clasped hands. “I don’t know if I can, miss.”

“Can what? You needn’t ask him to do anything except meet secretly with me. I shall explain what I wish him to do.”

“I can’t just go up to him out of the blue like that!”

“It’s not out of the blue. You’re already acquainted. You don’t need an introduction.”

“No, but I don’t even know if he . . .”

Gloriana gave an exasperated huff. Honestly, was a little patience and understanding beyond her? Yes, of course it was. As the Quality went, she was unusually considerate, but one could only expect so much. “If he what?” she asked.

“If you must know,” Elspeth said, “I don’t think he wants to speak to me. We became close quickly but parted on a—a most unpleasant note.”

“So? You can’t let one bad moment destroy your entire life.”

“No?” Elspeth retorted. “You’ve done a pretty fair job of it yourself, miss.” She ignored Gloriana’s widened eyes and went on. In for a penny, in for a pound. “The only difference, Miss Glow, is that you can make as many stupid mistakes as you like, and money will come to your rescue.”

For a long moment, Gloriana was silent. “Yes, but you haven’t made a stupid mistake, Elspeth.” Pause. “At least, not yet. Why not talk to him? At the very worst, you’ll find out that he doesn’t care for you.”

“Why won’t you talk to your marquis?” Elspeth retorted. “Why not explain why you’ve been acting like an idiot for so many years? What’s the worst he can do?”

“We’re not talking about my situation, which is far more complicated.”

“Not really. Either way, it’s naught but a man and a maid.”

“I will talk to him, sooner or later. But what I’m asking you to do is urgent.” She frowned. “Why did you and Mr. Turner part on an unpleasant note?”

“Because his master had just assaulted my mistress, of course! Poor man, he was mortified. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes, and he bid me such a curt farewell . . .”

“Why? It wasn’t his fault.”