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Chapter Seven
Dita slowly climbedthe marble stairs. Attending the theater hadn’t distracted her from her swirling mind or emotions and her self-disgust. What had happened to the woman who swore to never speak with Dash again?
“Are you feeling well? You were quiet the entire trip from the theater.” Emmy stopped on one of the steps on their ascent to their rooms. “These late hours are taking a toll on you.”
Dita was exhausted but too tired to sleep. She needed a bout of stick fighting or an early gallop on Rotten Row. Sitting in a theater box, making frivolous conversation about nothing was tiring. The Season already grew tedious, and it was only a month into activities. Her unrest had nothing to do with Dash, or that she continued to think of him and the way he could summon her feelings with a simple touch. He hadn’t sent flowers the next day after the ball as many of the gentlemen had but had sent an enormous box of licorice, her favorite childhood treat.
His note in his barely legible scrawl signed with Beldon was brief and proper for anyone to read:Sweets for a sweet woman.Their time in the garden and his note had kept her awake, remembering when he told her after bringing pleasure with his tongue that she was sweeter than any candy.
“I am tired, not from the lack of sleep but the monotony.” She hated lying to her best friend but nothing would come of discussing Dash. “I had hoped that I would have made progress with a possible interview with Lord Rathbourne or have more information to share about Lord Yardley. The only thing I’ve learned is that there is bad blood between Yardley and Sidmouth and no way to find out why.”
“You can’t help that Lord Yardley is a bore. You can approach Lord Vinson or possibly Lord Sidmouth at tomorrow night’s ball. Both gentlemen might be amenable to talking with you.”
“Were you able to learn anything in the retiring room tonight about either man’s mistresses?”
Emmy spent time in the retiring room listening to the other companions and ladies’ conversation. It wasn’t for gossip but for information that might help them in their inquiries. But it was Emmy’s ability to read lips that was their secret weapon. In her father’s parish, there had been a deaf family. Emmy had helped the family to find ways to communicate with the other parishioners so the family would be less isolated from the rest of the community. And now it was part of their plan to teach how to read lips for intelligence gathering. The technique had its draw back since you had to have a perfect view of the subject, which could be tricky in a crowded ballroom. And it wasn’t completely reliable.
“Nothing in the retiring room tonight except that Lady Yardley detests her husband and spent little time in his company. It isn’t surprising that he spends his nights at Haversham’s gambling club.”
“I’ve been a fool to believe the gentleman would speak with me about anything of substance. You, Totty, Rosetta, the footmen, and stablemen aren’t bound by social proprieties and are able to ask questions. Whereas I’m treated as if I’m some sort of social misfit. I don’t know how I will endure the Season without contributing anything.” And not have a distraction from thinking of Dash. “If we aren’t able to have our school, you’ll still have your studies, Olivia will pursue her mesmerism, and Charlotte might take to the stage. All I will have is a very busy social calendar and constant pressure to marry from Roddy and theton.”
“You are tired. This is not the Dita I know. Seeing Beldon is weighing on you. And you’re pressuring yourself too much about finding more substantial information for Lord Rathbourne. Tomorrow will look better. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
She smiled at Emmy with the shared memory of one of Miss Danvers’s adages.
Emmy was correct that Dash was constantly on her mind. But her friend had no idea that her prank had unleashed Dash’s need to prove that the Frenchman hadn’t won her heart. And like a fool, she had kissed Dash, trying to prove she was unmoved. She was always a sucker for challenges of any sort. Dash used his knowledge against her. She wanted to rage, but she could only fault herself for letting the need to win expose her vulnerability. She was no wiser or experienced in understanding her needs or Dash. In his arms, she had returned to being the naïve young woman who believed his touches and kisses meant something more than a game. She wanted to understand his reason for leaving her, but she didn’t want to relive the miserable months of heartbreak. She had too much to lose to renew contests with the rake.
“We have to find out the reason why Lord Yardley makes visits to the docks. If we are to accept what his stableman has reported to Harry about the lord’s activity, Yardley might be involved in smuggling, which would be a scandal but not something to take to Lord Rathbourne. I think it might be worth having Harry, our stableman, follow Lord Yardley once Alfie leaves for Sussex.”
Alfie took his role as Dita’s protector very seriously and would never approve of Dita playing an active part in gathering information or involving Dita’s childhood friend and his assistant in clandestine activities. She hadn’t yet shared her idea with Alfie that she personally would be gathering information. She had a pretty good notion of how Alfie would react.
“Is it a possibility there is a link with Yardley’s gambling debts to Haversham and his trips to the docks?” Dita and Emmy often discussed every avenue of information and how it related to possible espionage.
“Maybe we should be looking more closely at Haversham. Lady Billingsworth wasn’t discreet in her conversation with Mrs. Donaldson about the club owner. The Duke of Leicester has never acknowledged his bastard son. They were quite titillated that Haversham was a bare-knuckle boxer and is associated with criminal elements. They said it was the makings of a Gothic novel. It is amazing what we’ve learned by paying attention at the social events.” Emmy laughed.
“I wish we had a way to gain information about the workings of the club. Haversham is most likely involved with smuggling of liquor and maybe he has ties to the French. But why would Lord Yardley be involved with smuggling? To pay off his debts to Haversham? We need someone in the club.”
“Charlotte could probably carry off going in disguise,” Emmy added. “You would be recognized, and I would never have the courage to try.”
“Many of the men of thetonspend their late nights there.” Dita wasn’t used to fits of self-pity, but thinking of how Dash spent the last years reinforced how little experience she had in understanding men’s needs. She had believed that he loved her as much as she did him. But no longer did she harbor such childish fantasies. Her parents’ marriage was a cautionary tale if there ever was one.
“Come on, I’ll have Rosetta heat a cup of milk for you.”
“I will retire soon, but I am in need of something to read.” She would never admit that she needed a book to distract her from another night of remembering Dash and how she melted against him and hadn’t wanted to stop. The daytime kept her busy and unable to dwell on useless thoughts.
Dita strode down the hall to the library. She would find a Gothic novel to get lost in with its gruesome details.
“Billy, you may retire. There is no need for you to remain at your post,” Dita addressed the young, gangly footman, who was quite proud of his new elevation from boot boy to footman.
“My lady, his lordship may need me.”
“My brother is home?” Dita hadn’t seen Roddy since the ball two nights ago.
Billy opened the door for Dita to enter. A fire roared and all the candles were lit. Roddy, with his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, sat behind his desk, which was covered in stacks of papers. A snifter of brandy was within his reach.
“Roddy, I didn’t think I’d find you home. It seems that you are never in residence.”
He ran his hand through his messy, thick blond curls. They both shared their father’s tall, lean stature and curls that refused to be tamed. Tall stature wasn’t as prized for a woman as for a man. She had endured both Roddy and Dash calling her bean pole or stretch when she was growing up.
