A Scandalous Proposal

“Usurped? I can think of other words, although I’d rather not.”

She refused to blush. “I suppose that’s as clear as we need make that, thank you. I felt you should know, since we are working together.”

“We are? I don’t believe I’ve agreed to a partnership of any kind.”

Apparently men could be maddeningly thick. “Do you really have a choice?”

“I don’t? Please, enlighten me.”

“Yes, I should. In the interests of fairness, I feel it only fair to add that I don’t like you. I may admire you, and even find you somewhat attractive, but I don’t like you. You clearly resent that I’ve come to you for assistance, and you enjoy making me feel uncomfortable.”

“Tit for tat, Miss Foster. I haven’t had a comfortable moment since you threw yourself at me in Bond Street.”

“I did not—oh, now you’re smiling. I probably should look at you more often.”

“And be in my company far less,” he shot back. “What are you looking at, anyway? Clearly you aren’t paying attention to our fellow travelers on this road to nowhere, or you would have commented on something by now. There are many finely feathered birds taking the air today.”

“There are? Oh, goodness—is that man on the large gray actually sporting a parrot on his shoulder? How bizarre.”

“You have no idea, Miss Foster. One day I might tell you a rather amusing tale about the tethered and caged birds still being seen around Mayfair by those not clever enough to have realized the joke. Our feathered friends are no longer in fashion.”

“Yes, you do that.” Dany really didn’t much care either way about fashionable or unfashionable birds. “But no, I suppose I’m not really paying attention, am I? I suppose I thought the experience would have more to it than following everyone as they follow everyone else. What is the point, do you know?”

“The point, my fine country miss, is to see. And to be seen. You, for instance, are being seen in the company of the hero of Quatre Bras and a dozen wholly fictitious escapades of derring-do here in London. Even now, people are whispering to their companions. Who is she? Did he rescue her? Is she an heiress? Should we stop and ask, or would the hero take offense at our blatant curiosity? What to do, what to do.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Most things are, Miss Foster. But remember, this was your idea.”

Dany thought about that for a few moments. “You’re right. It was my idea. I thought it would be interesting. I thought I would get to show off my new bonnet, which I couldn’t do because I cut my hair and now even this shako had to be stuffed with paper so it didn’t fall down over my ears. I used to have tons of it, you know.”

“Paper? Or hair?”

“Hair, of course. I grew it for years, on my mother’s orders. Do you have any idea how much trouble hair can be?”

“Not exactly, no. Is it as much trouble as having to stuff your bonnets with paper?”

Dany looked at him and grinned. “The bonnets are temporary. The hair was permanent. Or at least it was. By and large, I think what’s left is rather fetching. Certainly different.”

“Ah, yes, different. I believe that relieves me from having to ask why in blue blazes you hacked it all off. The color wasn’t enough?”

“You don’t care for the color?”

“Over the centuries, man has learned there is no safe answer to that sort of question, so I’ll pretend you didn’t ask it. Look here, Miss Foster, this is getting us nowhere, and we’ve much to discuss. For my sins.”

His voice had rather trailed off on his last few words, but Dany heard them. “And what sins did you commit? I know I didn’t commit any. Well, at least not connected to the pot my sister is boiling in at the moment. I’m not declaring myself free of failings.”

Cooper exited the park as neatly as he’d entered it, putting the curricle back out on the street. “I hope you won’t mind if I don’t chivalrously exclaim that you could never be anything less than perfect.”

“And now I’ll ignore that. You know, my lord, I believe we’re beginning to understand each other.”

He kept his attention on his horses, but she did notice that his right eyebrow elevated in possible surprise. Certainly not in humor. “Does that prospect frighten you as much as it does me?” he asked as he took the bays into a turn down a rather narrow street.

“I don’t know. At least neither of us has to waste our time or words in attempting to be polite. Which, you must admit, can only be considered a good thing, because we really don’t have time to waste on conventions and silly rules of Society. Oliver will be home in less than a fortnight.”

“I agree on the need for speed. The blackmailer’s next communication could arrive at any moment.”

“Yes, which means you need to reconsider the vantage point of my bedchamber. Where are we going? I’ve no fear you plan to compromise me, but if you have a destination in mind I suggest it not be Portman Square, as we still have much to discuss.”

“More than you could imagine, Miss Foster,” he said, pulling to the curb in front of a rather ancient-looking church stuck between a haberdashery and a tobacco shop. He set the brake and looped the reins around it. “Stay where you are until I come ’round and help you down. I only say that because you haven’t read the book yet, whatever book that might be, and shouldn’t attempt a descent on your own.”

“It’s not as if I couldn’t do it, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment. Just...don’t.”

She twisted about on the seat to watch as he walked behind the curricle, already tossing a coin to a young lad who had appeared out of nowhere to offer to “mind the ponies” for him.

“Perhaps you should have rethought the tiger,” she said as she allowed him to assist her to the uneven flagway. It wasn’t quite the same as being swooped up into his arms, but the touch of his hands at her waist while she rested hers on his shoulders for that brief moment wasn’t exactly a distant second in how it affected her heartbeat.

If only Mari would climb out of her latest pit of despair; Dany really did have a few important questions for her.

“Tigers are for show, unless one employs an aging pugilist, and they don’t look all that well in livery. Harry and his livery wouldn’t last a moment in this neighborhood. You failed to tell me, Miss Foster. Do you possess any other talents save pickpocketing?”

She brought herself back from her new, unexpected curiosity concerning All Things Cooper. “That’s not fair. The chapbook was mine. I was only retrieving it. What sort of talents?”

“Playacting. I’ve every hope you’ll have no problem with a bit of fibbing.”

Dany tipped up her chin. “I may have found the need in the past, yes. A fib is often more kind than the truth. Especially when one’s mother asks unfortunate questions.”

“Very good. Steadfast and upright honesty would do us no good at the moment.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we remove ourselves from the sight of passersby?”

Oh, we most certainly shall, Dany thought, quickly understanding that she should not be where she was, certainly not with him. They were in the process of being clandestine. What a lovely word—clandestine. How could she have, even for a moment, thought the baron was a sobersides? What fun!

“This chapel is no longer in use except for occasional weddings, but the frescoes are said to be in remarkably good repair. Aunt Mildred said we should not fail to see them before leaving London.”

Aunt Mildred? Ah, so the fibbing had begun.

“Then how bad of you, for not telling me to bring my sketching pad. You always were a bit of a loose screw, Cousin Mortimer. Just for that, I believe I’ll insist in inspecting every single fresco in some detail, and you’ll be stuck chaperoning me for at least another hour before you can cry off and go chasing down your highly unsuitable friends.”

Bless the baron’s heroic heart. He winked at her! She’d get him to understand she would be more of a help than a hindrance.

They mounted the six steps to a pair of heavily carved wooden doors, pausing only as Cooper handed over a penny to the old man sitting on a wooden stool, curiously not showing any hint of curiosity upon seeing customers so late in the day.

“You always were a bit of a pill, Cousin Gertrude,” he responded in just the correct tone of cousinly disgust as the old man creaked to his feet to push open one of the doors. “Next you’ll say you want me to bring you back again tomorrow, and I won’t. Not if you beg.”

The old man cleared his throat. “There be sheets of paper and charcoal sticks inside, miss, for those who wish to take rubbings from some of the tombstones out back. Some lovely old stones we’ve got, we do. Only a penny for five.”

Dany turned her most winning smile on the caretaker. “Why, thank you, good sir. Cousin, don’t just stand there like the fool you are. Give the man a penny.”

“Going to use them to stuff more bonnets?” Cooper asked, reaching into his small purse. “Here you go, sir, a six-pence. We’d rather not be disturbed.”

“None of them never does,” the old man grumbled, shaking his head as he returned to his stool as Cooper grabbed her hand and pulled her inside before she could ask the old man what he meant.

The door had barely closed before Dany turned on him, laughing. “Did you hear that? This place is used for assignations, isn’t it? The man as nearly said that. Do you take advantage of this chapel often?”

Still clasping her hand, for there were only a few candles burning and the stained-glass windows didn’t let in much light, he led her to a bench placed against one wall. “I thought I was being original, as a matter of fact. Here, sit down. You lie too easily for my comfort, Gertrude.”

“Gertie. I much prefer Gertie. So you don’t think the caretaker believed either of us?”

“Do you?”

Dany thought about that for a moment. “I’m not certain. I wouldn’t want to be thought of as a loose woman. Or as someone as silly as my sister, who probably would have thought trysting with her unknown admirer in an ancient chapel the epitome of romantic expression. Of course, in either case, you’re the rotter of the piece. Shame on you.”

The baron sat down beside her. “You don’t have a single nerve in your body, do you?”

“I don’t think so, no,” she said as every last nerve in said body commenced to tingle at his closeness. Not that he’d ever know that. “Papa vows I was a cuckoo hatchling. You do know about cuckoo birds, don’t you? They lay their eggs in other bird’s nests? If my great-aunt Isobel on my father’s side hadn’t had my same outrageous hair color, I believe Mama would have had considerable explaining to do. And don’t look at me like that. Yes, that’s how I know so much about...usurping. My brother explained it all to me. So, now can we get down to business? What time do you want me to meet you at the tradesman’s entrance? Timmerly locks all the doors at midnight, but I managed to find an extra key for the side door that leads to the kitchens. It will be a simple matter of Emmaline letting you in, and sneaking you up the servant stairs.”

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