Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection

“Yes, miss, my lady. I apologize, I truly do, but so as to be sure no one else disturbed you two fine ladies, I took it upon myself to send your maid outside and station myself right on the other side of the curtain. I couldn’t do much besides clap my hands over my ears not to hear that her ladyship is in a bit of a pickle.”

“I am not in a—”

“Oh, I was wrong, it isn’t a wrinkle. Why, Mari, I do believe you’ve picked up a smudge. Go on, please, Mrs. Yothers.”

“Yes, miss. And seeing as how we’re all women here, even you, young miss, and with the poor dear increasing and all...”

“I am not—”

“Here, Mari, you don’t want to forget your reticule,” Dany said, shoving the thing in her sister’s gut, leaving the latter rather breathless. And mercifully silent. “Mrs. Yothers? You were saying?”

The seamstress shot a compassionate glance at Marietta. “I remember how I was with my first. It does get better, my lady, as the months go on. Before it gets worse again, that is, but that’s over quickly enough and you’re back to doing what got you in the delicate way in the first place. But that’s not what I’m here to say. I think, Your Ladyship, what you need right now is a hero.”

Dany rolled her eyes. That’s what the “humph, humph” was about? How depressing. “A hero, Mrs. Yothers? What a splendid idea. Would you perhaps know where to locate one?”

The woman smiled as she reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a wrinkled, dog-eared chapbook. “I do indeed, yes. Here you go, miss. You can keep it, seeing as how I know it all by heart, anyway, and there’s a whole new one waiting for me upstairs when I go up for my tea. I hear it’s even better than the first.”

Dany was already reading the title on the front cover: The Chronicles of a Hero.

“A hero? But, Mrs. Yothers, surely this is just a made-up story? This man, this—” she looked at the cover again “—His Lordship Cooper McGinley Townsend? He’s no more real than Miss Austen’s Mr. Darcy.”

“He looked passably real to me about an hour ago, when he and his companion sauntered past, out on the strut. Spied one of my girls staring bug-eyed at him through the window, and gave her a tip of his hat, he did. Such a gentleman. Everyone knows him, miss. Purest, bravest man alive, and bent on helping other people out of their troubles, especially pretty young ladies. Prinny himself handed over a title and an estate to him. I do nothing but hear about him in here, miss. He’s a hero to all the ladies, who chase him something terrible, poor man.”

Dany looked down at the cover once more. What a ridiculous print. Nobody looked like that, at least nobody real. But if he did...

“Dany? Daniella, for pity’s sake, what are you staring at?”

“I wasn’t staring,” Dany answered quickly, folding the chapbook and stuffing it into her pocket. “I was thinking. Mrs. Yothers, you just might be right. Mari, shall we go? Thank you so much, and I’m certain Lady Cockermouth will return in the next week or less to order at least another half dozen gowns, four of them for me, as a matter of fact.”

“I’m what?” But even Marietta wasn’t that thick. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. And bonnets. And...and scarves. I do favor scarves. You know, the sheer flowy ones. And...and...”

A young boy hastened to open the door to the street for them, and Dany took her sister by the elbow, ready to pull her out of the shop if necessary before she bankrupted the earl. “Mrs. Yothers understands, don’t you, Mrs. Yothers, and is terribly appreciative of your custom?”

The seamstress blushed, and bobbed several quick curtsies. “I do indeed, miss. As my son says, mum’s the word.”

“Thank you. Mari, we should be going now.”

“We should have gone long since,” her sister pointed out as her lady’s maid rose from a bench outside the shop and fell into place three paces behind them. “We shouldn’t have come at all, not in the delicate state I’m in, and certainly I shouldn’t have dragged your flapping mouth along with me. Now look where I am—beholden to Mrs. Yothers.”

“She’ll be worth every penny if she’s right, and she doesn’t really know anything. She was being nice mostly because you’re pregnant.”

“I am not—oh, the devil with it. Tell me what’s going on in your mind, Dany, even though I’m not going to like it, nor will I approve. Mama placed you in my hands, remember.”

“The answer’s obvious, Mari. You can’t fix what’s wrong, and heaven knows I have no idea how to fix what’s wrong. But a hero? Morally upright, generous of heart and spirit, wonderfully hand—handy. I think we should apply to him for his assistance.”

“Don’t even think such a thing,” Marietta said, her voice trembling. “The poor man is absolutely besieged with all matter of ladies of the ton. Young, old, eligible misses and their mamas, married women—they’re after him day and night. Oliver told me the man had to flee London, in fact, to get away from their flirtatious entreaties and embarrassing importunities. Now he’s back, according to Mrs. Yothers, and I’m certain the ladies are making utter fools of themselves yet again. I couldn’t possibly be so bold.”

And there was the smile that had launched a thousand nervous tremors within her family. “That’s all right, Mari, because I could. In fact, I’m quite looking forward to it.”

“Dany, you wouldn’t dare! Oh, what am I saying? Of course you’d dare. But you cannot, Daniella. You simply cannot!”

“Why? At least I’d know his name, which is more than you took the time to find out when you were punishing Oliver with your unknown lothario, offering up your reputation to be shredded—and even signing your name to those dangerous notes. You couldn’t have scratched ‘Your Beloved Snookums’ or some such equally cloying and anonymous?”

“That would have been silly. He already knew my name.”

“Exactly. You didn’t have to sign your notes at all. Oh, don’t start crying again. I’m merely pointing out the obvious. Now let me think more about how I’m going to approach your hero.”

“The baron is not my hero, and you are definitely not going to attempt to run him to ground like some fox. I can’t let you do it. I’ll say it again. Mama sent you here to practice for the spring Season. I’m to tutor you, train you, set a good example for you.”

“And you’re doing a whacking great job of that so far,” Dany said, grinning. “Rule number one. I now know, as if I didn’t before, never to exchange silly letters with unknown men.”

Marietta probably hadn’t pouted so forcefully since she was twelve. “One mistake. I made one mostly innocent mistake.”

“And Oliver deserves half the blame for that. Possibly more, as there was jewelry involved. I remember. See? Lesson two, learned. If jewelry is involved, there may be exceptions to rule number one.”

“You’re being facetious.”

“And enjoying myself mightily. And more than slightly excited, I’ll admit that as well, considering I’d come to town believing I would be bored spitless. How do you propose we go at this, Mari? If we knew the baron’s direction, I could simply pen him a formal note, asking him to meet with me on an urgent personal matter involving an innocent woman’s virtue. Or do you think my chances would be better if I approach him in public, perhaps at the theater or one of the parties we’re committed to this week?”

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the chapbook. Truly, she could stare at the print for hours, just to look into those green eyes. “I believe I’d recognize him if I could somehow manage to casually bump into— Oh!”

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