Thief of Shadows (Maiden Lane #4)(17)

“… a soiree or ball or some such. I expect you’ll attend,” Thomas murmured next to her.

Megs started slightly. She had no idea what “some such” he was talking about, but she could find out later readily enough. “Of course. I’ll be quite pleased.”

“Good. Good,” Thomas said vaguely. “And Mother will be in town by then as well. Too bad Griffin and Hero have run off to the country. Odd time to do it, in the middle of the season.”

“Mmm.” Roger was talking to three other gentlemen who Megs knew were close friends of his: Lord d’Arque, Mr. Charles Seymour, and the Earl of Kershaw. Unfortunately, she didn’t know the other gentlemen at all well and was thus rather shy around them. In fact, Lord d’Arque was a notorious rake. If she could only catch Roger’s eye, perhaps she could signal a meeting in the garden.

Plum-colored silk overembroidered in gold and silver thread blocked her line of sight.

“Oh, Lady Margaret, I’m so relieved to see you here!” Lady Penelope spoke to Megs, but it was at Thomas that she batted her eyelashes. Beside her, Miss Greaves smiled shyly at Megs. “I must speak to you about Mr. Makepeace.”

“Makepeace?” Thomas frowned. “Who is this chap, Megs?”

Megs opened her mouth, but Lady Penelope was already talking. “He is the manager of the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children, my lord. Or I should say the current manager, for I must speak frankly and say that I am deeply doubtful of Mr. Makepeace’s qualifications. I think if we could only find a more polite manager, the home would be vastly improved.”

Thomas looked both confused and bored by this explanation, but Megs couldn’t let it go by unchallenged. Mr. Makepeace might be nearly as stodgy as Thomas, but he’d devoted his entire life to the home. It seemed a shame to let a bully like Lady Penelope take it away from him.

Megs smiled sweetly. “We’ve appointed Lady Beckinhall as Mr. Makepeace’s tutor in matters social. Shouldn’t we give her a chance to educate Mr. Makepeace?”

Lady Penelope sniffed. “Lady Beckinhall has all my admiration, of course, but I have little hope that even she can effect such a drastic change in Mr. Makepeace. Rather, I believe that an entirely new manager must be found. To that end, I have just today started interviewing men I think might be suitable for the position.”

Megs stiffened at this information. “But we already have a manager—”

“Not, as we’ve already agreed, an appropriate one.” Lady Penelope smiled prettily, though quite a few of her teeth were showing. “The gentlemen I’ve agreed to interview all have lovely, polished manners and are recommended by some of my most intimate friends.”

“But do they have experience running an orphanage?” Thomas arched an eyebrow in amusement.

“Pish!” Lady Penelope waved an airy hand. “The man I hire can learn, I am sure. And if need be, I can always hire two gentlemen.”

Miss Greaves cast her eyes heavenward for a second and Megs wished she could do the same without being seen by Lady Penelope. At least Lady Penelope seemed aware of the huge amount of work Mr. Makepeace did all by himself.

“I don’t think we can make any drastic changes while both Ladies Caire and Lady Hero are away from the city,” Megs said firmly. “After all, they are the original founders of the Ladies’ Syndicate.”

Lady Penelope’s bottom lip stuck out in a pretty pout, and Megs felt a welcome wash of relief. Lady Penelope must know she could not act in Lady Hero’s and the Ladies Caire’s absences without damaging her cause irrevocably. Megs made a note to write all three ladies so they might be aware of the danger to Mr. Makepeace.

At that moment, Roger looked over, catching Megs’s eye, and all thought of the home fled her mind. He winked and tilted his head imperceptibly in the direction of the garden terrace.

“Oh, I see a dear friend,” Megs murmured. “If you’ll excuse me?”

Megs only vaguely heard Thomas’s and Lady Penelope’s polite words. Roger was already moving obliquely toward the French doors. She must be careful, but soon—so soon!—she would be in her lover’s arms.

Chapter Four

Now wise men have tried to explain love—and they have failed. All I can say is that the Harlequin and the fine lady fell in love that day. True and lasting love that cares not for man’s rank or place in the world: a thing both grand and awful…

—from The Legend of the Harlequin Ghost of St. Giles

“They say the king himself has put a price upon his head,” Pinkney said chattily the next morning.

Isabel glanced up at her vanity mirror and watched as the lady’s maid placed a pin precisely in her hair. Her mouth was dry as she asked, “The Ghost?”

“Yes, my lady.”

A price on his head. With Charming Mickey dead, the authorities had obviously concentrated their ire on the Ghost of St. Giles. Perhaps he’d lie low, avoid the streets now that they had suddenly become much more dangerous. Isabel bit her lip. Except in the short time that she’d talked to him, the Ghost hadn’t seemed the type to avoid danger. Oh, why was she worrying over the man anyway? It’d only been chance that had set him in her path and her own perhaps overlarge sense of right and wrong that had picked him up and saved him from the mob in the first place. She’d probably never see the man again in her life.