Page 75 of One Thing Leads to a Lover

“Say something, Billy.” Langley looked at Millrose, who shrugged helplessly. “Surely you don’t mean to countenance this scheme?”

“I suspect it won’t matter what I say,” he said, with something like a smile of admiration for Amanda. “I don’t like the degree of danger, especially not with women and possibly children involved. But the plan gets full marks for ingenuity. So”—his gaze flicked between the two—“what happens once you’re inside?”

“Mrs. Drummond and I will pretend to be demanding customers. While we create a scene in the front part of the shop, someone else”—here, she had the grace to glance toward Langley—“can investigate the back door and the boarded-up window.”

Billy appeared to think over her plan. “Let’s say we do that. Let’s say Jacobs is inside—he’s unlikely to be alone. We’ll have men on the streets, before and behind the house, of course. Armed men. Nevertheless, you will both be taking a grave risk. It could all go wrong too quickly for anyone to come to your aid.”

“Then we will have to be resourceful, Colonel Millrose. I certainly do not want Mrs. Drummond to come to harm. If things start to take an unfortunate turn, I’ll say I’ve forgotten something and send my ‘maid’ back to my carriage.” She managed a slight smile for Fanny. “But if my sons are inside that shop, I won’t leave without them.”

To Langley’s utter shock, Billy appeared to be considering the scheme. After a moment, he gave a crisp nod. “All right.”

Langley swore—not under his breath, and without any apology.

No one paid him the least mind.

“I’ll go and get a few things together,” Fanny said, rising. Billy stood too, leaving Amanda alone at the table, her dark eyes wide, as if she were only now realizing the enormity of what she had proposed.

Fanny stepped to the door. “Pardon me.” In place of her usual brittle expression, he glimpsed strength—strength he hadn’t suspected her of possessing.

Or perhaps he hadn’t wanted to see.

“Fan,” he whispered, as she reached past him for the door. “Don’t do this.” If she refused to go along, then perhaps Amanda would come to her senses.

“If you have something to say to me, Major Stanhope,” she said, glancing once over her shoulder, “it might better be said elsewhere.”

He’d been avoiding this conversation for over a year, and a part of him longed desperately to avoid it a little longer, even as he knew he couldn’t. The words exchanged in the workroom earlier that afternoon had felt like having a plaster ripped off. Now it was time to see what scars remained. Exhaling sharply, unable to bring himself to look at Amanda, he opened the door. “All right.”

In the semi-darkness of the empty corridor, Fanny’s pale eyes searched his. “Does she know? How much you love her?”

“I—” Heat flushed into his face. “Is it so obvious, then?”

“Some of us have learned to look past that public face—those public faces—you put on. When I walked into that room earlier today, I realized I had never before seen you truly afraid. But there was no doubt in my mind that you were afraid now…and for her.” Fanny’s voice was still cool, but not cold. “Once, I thought it might make me feel better—to know that you, too, were susceptible to these petty, human emotions.” Her ice-blue gaze faltered. “It turns out, I was wrong. It’s really quite a wretched sight.” Something wry quirked at the corner of her mouth, then was quickly smoothed away. “Tell her. That’s my advice. Tell her before you lose your nerve, or you’ll never be any good to anyone here again.”

“Fanny,” he chided, then caught her hand. “We were friends once. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but nevertheless, I am sorry. Sorry I couldn’t save him, and sorry it’s taken me all this time to say as much.”

She withdrew her fingers from his grip and smoothed her palm down the front of her dress. “I know.”

“And you’re still determined to go with her?” he asked, swallowing past the knot of emotions in his throat.

“I am. Because it’s time for me to start earning my keep around here.” Then she laid her hand on his arm and favored him with the first genuine smile he’d seen on her face in a twelvemonth. “I promise I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble, Magpie.”

* * * *

Amanda’s knees shook beneath her skirts as she and Fanny approached the supposed dress shop. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes, wishing she had the ability to sense whether her sons were inside.

“Oh, dear,” Fanny clucked. “The sign on the door says closed.”

“What?” Amanda’s eyes popped open. “Well, we’re going inside, regardless. If we have to, we’ll pound on the door until they open it, and we’ll tell them we have an emergency.”

Fanny’s head tilted to the side as she fixed Amanda with a skeptical look. Her bonnet covered up every strand of her distinctive blonde hair. “An emergency that requires a dressmaker?”

Amanda darted her gaze around, searching for inspiration, and found it in a rusty nail sticking out from the wooden handrail leading up to the apothecary’s shop. What was one more casualty of her wardrobe? Tugging off one glove, she used her trembling fingertips to pry the nail loose. Then she handed it to Fanny and turned her back to the woman, speaking to her over her shoulder. “Tear my dress. Jagged strips. Right down to the petticoat. We’ll—we’ll say a stray dog attacked me, had me right in its jaws. I only just managed to get away, but I’m overcome. I need somewhere to sit down and something which with to make myself decent.”

Fanny took the nail and her blue eyes swept Amanda from head to toe. “You’re certain, my lady?”

“Please.”

Gripping the rusty implement, Fanny reached out for a tentative swipe, at first snagging the figured yellow muslin, but not tearing it. Then, drawing a determined breath, she switched her hold on the nail, the better to control its movement, speared its point through the delicate fabric, and dragged it downward. One long strip, then another, until most of the back of Amanda’s skirt was in tatters and the unmentionables beneath were on full display.