'Twas the Night Before Scandal (The May Flowers Book 8) Read online

  “Anything you need from me,” he said, hovering on the other side of the table from her for a moment. At last, he let out a sigh and turned to head back across the room to the other set of tables. He’d collect his great-grandmother’s ring, pry John away from Lady Diana long enough to head out for a spot of coffee, and figure out exactly how to orchestrate the perfect proposal, and then—

  He stopped dead, his heart sinking into his stomach as he glanced across the room only to find the table where he’d put the ring completely empty. Dread filled him as he strode across the room, careful not to arouse Bea’s suspicions—he still wanted the proposal to come as a surprise, after all, and if she had reason to ask why he was running across the room all of a sudden, he’d have to explain the ring—hoping that his eyes deceived him.

  But no, the donations table was completely empty, not a scrap of anything that had once been there in sight.

  Chapter 2

  Panic hit Harrison like a cannonball in the gut. He picked up his pace, reaching the empty table at the far end of the room and staring at it as though everything that had been there just moments before would return. He walked around the table, bent to search underneath, and twisted this way and that, perplexed about where everything had gone and how it had disappeared so fast.

  “Something wrong, my lord?” one of the women who was volunteering along with the May Flowers asked as she carried a wide basket filled with toys to another table.

  “Um, er, no. That is to say…nothing’s wrong,” Harrison stammered.

  He didn’t know why he was so reticent about telling the woman he’d put a ring on the table and lost it. She seemed to be a good enough sort, although from what he understood, several of the younger, rougher women helping out with preparations for the party were actually whores. Bianca had a habit of befriending all sorts, whether they were bent on reformation or not, and it wouldn’t have surprised Harrison if some of the women in the room had customers waiting for them once they were finished volunteering. He didn’t want to give anyone, least of all Bea, even a fleeting suspicion that he would ever entertain the notion of paying that sort of woman a visit.

  The woman in question furrowed her brow at him for a moment, as though she thought he were barmy, before walking on. He probably was barmy. Only a first-rate fool would abandon a priceless family heirloom on a table in the middle of a crowded room.

  He turned back to the table once the woman had moved on, running his hands over the table’s surface as if by some miracle the ring had fallen into a crack or sunk into a portal to another world. The idea was ridiculous, but far less painful than the notion that he’d lost it.

  “What on earth are you doing, man?” John asked, striding up to Harrison with a bemused look on his face.

  “Did you see what happened to the things that were on this table?” Harrison whispered, glancing around as though everyone would overhear and know how big of a fool he was.

  “No.” John shrugged. “What happened to them?” he asked, as though Harrison had asked some sort of riddle.

  “I don’t know,” Harrison hissed. “I was hoping you saw where they went.”

  John flushed slightly. “I’m afraid I was too engaged with the lovely and irascible Lady Diana to notice much of anything, let alone what happened to a pile of old rubbish.”

  “It wasn’t rubbish, it was donations for the local orphanages,” Harrison said, continuing to look around. He edged his way to the next table, picking through its contents to see if the ring box had been moved there. But all that table contained was more of the same clothing, toys, and sundries that people were bringing in.

  “I know you’re of a charitable mindset,” John said, grinning as he followed Harrison from table to table, “but this concern is a bit daft, don’t you think?”

  Harrison stopped his frantic search and turned to his friend. “My great-grandmother’s ring was on that table.”

  John lost his smug look, his eyes suddenly going wide. “You put the ring on the table?” When Harrison nodded sheepishly, John laughed and shook his head. “Why didn’t you put it back in your jacket where it came from?”

  “Bea needed me,” Harrison explained, his face heating even more. “I didn’t think about where I was putting the ring. I didn’t think about anything but rushing to help her.”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” John said with a smirk. “I think the entire building could be burning and you wouldn’t think about anything but shielding Bea’s pretty little head from all the ash raining down.”

  “You’re right, of course,” Harrison said, continuing his search of the tables nearest the one that had been cleared. “Even though I know you’re being an arse. But there isn’t time for that. Help me find what happened to the ring.”

  John heaved a long-suffering sigh and set to work, moving through the tables with Harrison and scanning their contents. Everything looked the same—so much so that for a few, fleeting moments of hope, Harrison thought that he hadn’t set the ring on the table that had been cleared after all, but had set it on another table. A few more minutes of searching and picking through things proved that to be a false hope, though.

  “It’s gone,” Harrison said at last, once he and John had circled back to the empty table. “Grandmama is going to murder me. And as for Bea—”

  He glanced wistfully to the other side of the room, where Bea was deep in conversation with Diana as the two of them constructed more bows. Bea glanced up and met his gaze, her cheeks flushing in a way that was so beautiful it made Harrison’s trousers tight. But there was no time for any of that.

  He jerked his head back to John. “What am I going to do?” he hissed, panic on the verge of getting the best of him.

  John looked around as though an answer would spring up out of nowhere. A few seconds later, a young lad in worn but clean clothes and a cap strode up to the empty table with a new box of donations.

  “Excuse me,” John addressed him. “Do you know what happened to the things that were on this table?”

  “Yes, I do, my lord,” the lad answered with a cheeky grin.

  Harrison was so overwhelmed with relief that he didn’t care that the lad was being clever with him. “Where has it all gone?” he asked.

  “That depends,” the lad answered, then waited for the banter to continue.

  “Depends on what?” John asked, narrowing his eyes as if to tell the boy they wouldn’t stand for his cheek.

  “On who carried what out,” the boy said.

  Harrison let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Son, we really don’t have time for this.”

  “Although we might have time to string you up by your ankles,” John growled.

  The lad saw that the time for joking was over. “All the stuff from this table was taken out to three carts, and each of those was heading to a different orphanage.”

  Harrison gaped at him. “Three different orphanages?”

  “Yessir, my lord. One to Hope Orphanage in Hackney, and the other two to Mr. Siddel’s orphanage and to the Sisters of Perpetual Sorrow in Limehouse.”

  Harrison and John exchanged a look. “Are you familiar with either of those places?” Harrison asked.

  “No.” John shrugged and shook his head. “Are you?”

  “No.” Harrison let out a breath of disappointment, deeply worried that his family ring was gone.

  “I know where they all are,” the lad said.

  Harrison and John both turned to him.

  “What’s your name, lad?” John asked.

  “Burt, my lord,” Burt said with a wide smile. “And for tuppence, I can take you to them all.”

  The hope Harrison thought he’d lost returned. He reached into his pocket and took out a small coin. “There you go, Burt. And there will be more where that came from if we find a certain item I’ve lost.”

  “What item is that, my lord?” Burt asked, a gleam in his eyes.

  “Never you mind, scamp,” John answered, turning
Burt by his shoulders toward the door. “Lead the way. We’ve got to recover Lord Linfield’s lost heart so he can propose to his sweetheart.”

  “Oh, so it’s about love, is it?” Burt asked, hurrying ahead, Harrison and John behind him.

  “It is,” Harrison admitted. And if he didn’t find the ring so that he could surprise Bea with the most perfect proposal ever, he didn’t know what he would do with himself.

  Bea watched Harrison and John flitter around the far end of the room as Diana prattled on about how much better the world would be if women were in charge. She was utterly puzzled about what Harrison could possibly be doing, darting back and forth as he was. He didn’t seem to have any aim other than studying the items that had been donated. She couldn’t think what possible interest any of the donations could have for him, but there didn’t seem to be any other explanation for his searching.

  And then he left. Just like that. Without saying goodbye to her. He and John rushed out, following a young lad called Burt that had been running errands for Bianca and some of the others all morning. As soon as Harrison left the room, Bea felt as though her heart fled with him.

  “…and with all the new organizations forming around the issue of women’s suffrage, I think it’s only a matter of time before we see not only women gaining the vote, we’ll see them elected to Parliament as well. And once that happens—Heavens, Bea, are you paying any attention at all?” Diana asked with a huff, throwing the ribbon she’d just finished tying down on the table.

  “What? Oh. Hmm?” Flustered and blushing, Bea dragged her eyes away from the doorway Harrison had disappeared out of and focused her gaze on Diana.

  Diana tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips as she studied Bea. “The sun does not rise and set dependent on whether Harrison Manfred is in the room.”

  “I know, I know,” Bea sighed, letting her shoulders drop as she tried to concentrate on her work. “It’s just that…I wish…if he would only….”

  “Get on with it and propose marriage,” Diana finished, rolling her eyes. “Believe me. You make it hard for me to think of anything else.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bea set aside her newly finished bow and gathered up materials to make another one. “I’m a bore, I know. It’s just that I love him so, and it makes me so anxious every time he runs out on me like this.”

  “Well, wherever he was running off to,” Diana said, tilting her nose up and staring at the doorway, “he can’t be up to any good. Not if he’s with John.”

  Bea nearly laughed in spite of herself. She and Diana made quite a pair. Both of them pined after the men they loved like silly schoolgirls, but they each had different ways of doing it. But Bea wasn’t sure whether it was more effective to long wistfully for a man or to pretend that she couldn’t stand him.

  She had only begun to contemplate the question when the two middle-class ladies, Bianca’s neighbors in Clerkenwell, who had just carried in fresh armfuls of greenery launched into a curious conversation.

  “Treacle all over everything,” the dark-haired one said, her eyes round. “It was a right mess to clean up.”

  “Over their schoolbooks and everything?” the grey-haired one asked.

  “As if the books were toast,” the dark-haired one answered with a nod. “The whole lot of them were ruined.”

  “Books don’t come cheap,” the grey-haired one agreed. “Whoever done it should be horsewhipped, if you ask me.”

  “What’s this all about?” Bianca asked as she walked up to the table to sort the new greenery.

  “If you please, Lady Clerkenwell,” the grey-haired lady said, bobbing a quick curtsy. “Someone’s gone and pulled a prank at St. Joseph’s Orphanage.”

  “They rigged a bucket of treacle to fall all over Sister Mary’s desk,” the dark-haired woman said.

  “Good Lord.” Bianca’s eyes went wide. “That sounds like the sort of prank Rupert and I used to play on our German governess when we were children.”

  “That’s exactly what it sounds like,” Diana agreed, sending Bea a look as though pranks were played on governesses all the time.

  Bea assumed she was right, though she and her sisters had never been so bold as to tease their governess in any way. Madame Julienne was the closest thing they had had to a mother, after their own mother died in childbirth. But the idea of pranks had always fascinated Bea.

  “A whole pile of books was ruined, my lady,” the dark-haired woman continued to tell the story to Bianca. “And books are precious, they are.”

  “I agree,” Bianca said in her take-charge voice. “I’ll be certain to pay a visit to St. Joseph’s to assess their needs, and I’ll purchase all new books for them as soon as our party and the Christmas holidays are over.”

  “Bless you, Lady Clerkenwell,” the grey-haired lady said, beaming as though Bianca were an angel. “You sure have been a boon to this community.”

  As soon as the two ladies moved on, Bianca slid closer to Bea and Diana. “Can you imagine what the likes of Claudia Denbigh would say if they heard how much of an angel I am?” she laughed.

  Bea laughed along with her, knowing full well that Bianca had made more enemies than friends among the ranks of the aristocracy because of her wild ways. Bea was secretly in awe of Bianca herself, particularly Bianca’s amazing ability to get along with people of all classes and to treat everyone as though they were equals. Then again, Bianca had married a man who had been born in a brothel, even if he was a lord now. That had been entirely Lord Malcolm Campbell’s doing. Lord Malcolm, as everyone knew him, whether it was the proper form of address or not, had married Bianca’s mother just the year before, but he had been a friend of the Marlowe family for decades, and he was one of the most powerful men in England. Which made it even more astonishing that Bianca could move so freely in middle-class circles as well as higher ones.

  “I saw the way you drooped like a blossom in the frost when Harrison dashed out of here,” Bianca said, jolting Bea out of her thoughts.

  “Oh,” Bea said, using the excuse of reaching for wire to tie the bow she was making to lower her eyes. Bianca was likely to see the truth in her expression if she didn’t. “It’s nothing. I was just….” She couldn’t think of a way to finish her sentence.

  “Patience, ducky, that’s all you need,” Bianca said with a wink. “Just a little patience.”

  “Bea has no patience,” Diana laughed. “She is consumed by love, and if it remains unrequired, she’ll expire, like a maiden in some medieval tale.”

  They all shared a laugh, though Bea had to admit there was a certain degree of truth to the joking accusation. She was veering closer and closer to desperation with every day that passed.

  Bianca seemed to notice. Her expression changed from teasing to contemplative, and she studied Bea with a calculating look.

  “Mama and Lord Malcolm were dead-set against me marrying Jack,” she said, as though speaking her thoughts aloud. “But I won that battle in the end. And do you know how I did it?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Bea said, her face flaring hot, unable to meet Bianca’s eyes. In fact, Bea—and everyone else in society—knew exactly how Bianca had won the right to marry Jack Craig. He’d gotten her with child, and Bianca had been too stubborn for a lightning-fast marriage to a more suitable groom to cover the fact.

  “Determination,” Bianca answered, a light in her eyes that said she knew full well what Bea had been thinking. “You may think it was the other thing,” she went on, looking extraordinarily proud of herself when most people would have said she should feel ashamed, “but no, it was determination. I wanted Jack, so I stepped up and had him.”

  Diana let out a snorting laugh at the double-entendre, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “No, I mean that too,” Bianca said in a confiding voice, glancing between Diana and Bea. “And that’s where you have the advantage over me.”

  Bianca leaned in, and Bea couldn’t help but crow
d closer to her. She, Bianca, and Diana formed a secretive circle beside the table.

  “Seduction is a tool that can be used by women just as easily as men have always used it,” Bianca said. “And aren’t we always saying that women should have equal rights to men?”

  “We are,” Diana agreed, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

  “So use your best assets,” Bianca went on, glancing to Bea. “Harrison is too much of a gentleman to refuse to marry you if he’s compromised you in any way.”

  “But I couldn’t lure him into that sort of a situation,” Bea whispered, then blinked. “Could I?” In fact, the prospect of seducing Harrison was as appealing to her as it was shocking.

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Bianca said, straightening. “I believe you are perfectly capable of proving too much for Harrison to resist. All you have to do is arrange the right situation, and, as the French say, voila!” She took a step back, spreading her hands as though she’d completed a magic trick, victory in her eyes.

  “I suppose I could invite him over for supper tonight, though it’s painfully short notice,” Bea said, shocked that she was actually entertaining the idea.

  “Short notice or no notice at all, I’d wager Harrison would fly to your doorstep if you so much as crooked your finger,” Bianca said.

  Bea hoped she was right. “Papa and Evelyn will be dining at Uncle Gregory’s house tonight,” she went on, a plan forming in her mind. “I was going to have supper with Diana—”

  “But I would gladly cede the evening to your nefarious plots, if that’s what would make you happy,” Diana finished her sentence for her. “Just because I don’t care for the company Harrison keeps doesn’t mean I’m not all in favor of you getting what you want.”

  Bianca made a sound as though she didn’t believe a word of Diana’s protest against John, but she was wise enough not to voice her opinions. “It’s settled, then,” she said instead. “You’ll invite Harrison over for a private supper tonight, and if things progress beyond the dining room and into the bedroom—” She shrugged, grinning. “Well, all is fair in love and war, is it not?”