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Attempting to rouse her spirits once again, she reasoned aloud, “It is not as if you have not known the interest of other men. There is absolutely no reason why you should possess girlishly weak knees whenever Lord Harlow is in the room. Foolish, foolish woman!” she chastised. “Your fascination lies in that brief encounter in the Park,” Colleen hissed, as anger hunched her shoulders. “You idolised a simple ‘good day’, a kind gesture from a young gentleman. You have placed Lord Harlow on a pedestal.” She laughed in irony. “He is a man—a perfectly flawed man, as are they all.” She added with regret, “A perfectly handsome man with a heart-stopping smile, but flawed, nevertheless.”
Shoring up her resolve, she announced aloud, “Just a few more days,” she cautioned her heart. “Then Lord Harlow will absent himself from your life. Even if Thomas Everley was not your father, there remains an ocean between you and the gentleman. An Earl cannot simply choose whoever he wishes to marry, and that is assuming he would choose you. Harlow must choose a wife who will benefit the Earldom, not his heart.”
Colleen shrugged and wrapped her arms tighter about her knees, as she stared out into the semi-darkness.
“It is too late to consider your life and the legacy your father has left you. You must settle in your mind, my girl, you shall spend your days alone. Be happy to have a roof over your head and a purpose in your life. You have the foundling home and the mothers who require your charity and your oversight. Make that the focus of what you will do for the remainder of your days. No man of Lord Harlow’s ilk would condone your assisting those who require it the most, and you are not the type to abandon a project once it has begun.”
Chapter Four
Grandison had spent the morning at his club, attempting to leave behind the image of Miss Everley turning her head away from in dismissal. However, the memories of the previous evening continued to haunt him.
More disconcerting, he had dreamed of seducing the woman, taking her to his bed — her willing lips creating a fierce need he had rarely known. Never known, if he were honest with himself, which he was not. He had awakened with his manhood hard and a ‘hunger’ that he doubted even his mistress could assuage. In fact, the idea of coupling with Susana Wisley provided him no pleasure. For the first time, ever, he thought only one woman might satisfy him, and that particular lady wanted nothing to do with him.
“We will see if she has had a change of heart since last evening,” he grumbled as he abandoned his newsprint to head toward the door. Unfortunately, Lord Liverpool brought a halt to his plans. “Your Lordship,” he murmured as he bowed.
“I was hoping to encounter you this morning, Harlow. I called at your house, but you had already departed.”
Grand dreaded this conversation: He had hoped to know something tangible by now.
“I decided to take my meal here, sir. My staff was up late.”
In truth, they were all abed when he had snuck in last evening, but Grand would not disclose that fact to the Prime Minister.
“Then join me for more coffee,” Liverpool instructed as he led the way to a table in a private room, set aside for his Lordship’s pleasure.
Once they were settled and the coffee served, Lord Liverpool stated the obvious, “I understand that you and Miss Everley called upon Dostoff at the Red Hawk last night.”
Grandison frowned in irritation.
“As it was nigh on three of the clock when we returned home, the idea that you never sleep is confirmed.”
Liverpool chuckled.
“I have mastered the art of sleeping with my eyes open. In that manner, no one attempts to take advantage of me when I least expect it. Doing so keeps my enemies off balance.”
“I will keep your advice in mind, sir,” Grand said evenly.
They sat in silence while the club’s footmen served Liverpool’s meal, providing Grand time to organise his thoughts before the Prime Minister questioned him again.
Too soon, however, they were surrounded by privacy once more.
“Tell me of your encounter with Dostoff,” Liverpool instructed.
“Not much to tell,” Grand said cautiously. “Miss Everley simply requested that ‘Mr. William’ employ his resources to learn of the necklace. I travelled with the lady to ensure her safety.”
Liverpool spoke casually, but Grand thought his words were more in the form of a warning, one that had arrived too late.
“Trust me, Miss Everley requires no chaperone. Despite traveling with her man Jones and the footman Ardent when venturing forth, Miss Everley is capable of defending herself. I have employed her previously.”
“You have?” Grand asked, the words slipping out before he could swallow them.
Who had Liverpool consulted to learn more of the lady? Had not Miss Everley told Grand that she had never met the Prime Minister? She said his Lordship had contacted a ‘friend’ — a friend for whom Grand still had no name. Her protector, perhaps? Why was he back to thinking that she was another man’s mistress? Perhaps because if such were true, it would prevent him from thinking of seducing her himself. Even so, the idea that the lady answered to another did not sit well with him. Was Lord Hampton involved more deeply in the woman’s life than Grand had first assumed? Or was her ‘friend’ someone he did not know? Could it be Dostoff? If he thought such was true, it might, quite literally, drive him to Bedlam, so Grand quickly dismissed the idea. Yet, doing so brought him back to his original question: Had the lady known her previous ‘endeavours’ had been ordered by Liverpool, meaning that she had blatantly lied to him? Of course, he had danced around the truth with her also, but that was different, was it not?
“You thought this was Miss Everley’s first foray? How amusing! Surely, you must realise there are others in the Home Office who are being paid to keep a thorough record of people like Miss Everley, along with an accounting of her skills,” his Lordship remarked with a lift of his eyebrows.
“I simply assumed—” Grand said lamely.
“A top-notch agent never assumes,” Liverpool warned. “Such can mean success or failure.”
