her, he said, “Come on, then. No more kissing or talk of kissing, not today at any rate. We should get inside and see what catastrophe awaits us.”
Winn stepped down from the carriage and reached back to assist her. Holding her gloved hand in his, even for that brief moment, brought home to him just how true his earlier statement had been. Somehow, she had invaded every aspect of his being. No part of him remained unaffected by her—heart, mind, body and soul.
*
Effie waited patiently in the small coffee house near the Royal Arcade. She knew the moment he walked in. So perfectly attuned to him was she, she could feel his presence. As he approached, she took a deep and steadying breath. When he rounded the table and took a seat at the one adjacent to hers, she knew he did so for her benefit. He was mindful of her reputation at all times.
“You summoned,” Highcliff said, his voice deep and rumbling.
“I asked you to join me,” Effie pointed out. “That’s hardly the same thing.”
“I have no choice but to heed the call, Miss Darrow. I’d say it is exactly the same,” he replied. “To what do I owe the honor? If you’re expecting an apology for what transpired at our last meeting, I won’t offer it. I’d just as soon cut out my own tongue.”
Recalling just how skillfully he’d kissed her with the appendage offered up as sacrifice, Effie thought that would be a terrible waste. But she wouldn’t encourage him by saying so. Instead, Effie cast a quelling glance in his direction. “Despite your supreme arrogance and conceit, my invitation has nothing to do with the new complexities of our very old acquaintance. It’s about Calliope and the Earl of Montgomery.”
“For what it’s worth,” Highcliff replied, “He’s perfectly acceptable. I couldn’t find a shred of dirt about him. His business dealings are above board. He doesn’t wager heavily, nor drink heavily. He doesn’t frequent bawdy houses and hasn’t maintained a regular mistress for years. The man is practically a monk by society’s standards. If there’s anything about him untoward, he’s managed to be the soul of discretion… and I always find the dirt, Effie, no matter how well hidden it is.”
“This is more about Calliope than about him, I suppose… the earl has inadvertently discovered her parentage and it could very well put her in danger.”
“Well, all he has to do is keep it a secret,” Highcliff sneered. “Problem solved.”
“Unfortunately, that cat is out of the proverbial bag thanks to a gentleman of the earl’s acquaintance by the name of Charles Burney.”
He muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Not fit for your ears,” he answered. “Burney is trouble… trouble of the worst sort.”
“What sort is that?”
“The desperate sort. To say his pockets are to let is an overstatement. They’re no longer even his pockets,” Highcliff replied. “Desperate men are dangerous men.”
It was something she knew well. The past few months, it seemed one or another of her girls was always in some sort of jeopardy. “Then you should accompany me on my next errand, Lord Highcliff.”
“What sort of errand?”
“We’re going to speak with Madame de Beauchamps. It seems she may have known Calliope’s mother long ago.”
Effie dropped a few coins on the table and rose. Walking out of the coffee house, she waited until he exited a few moments after her. When she was certain he was following, she made her way along the Arcade to the entrance to Madame de Beauchamps’ shop. As she opened the door and stepped inside, a bell tinkled above the door. The woman in question came out to greet her.
“Miss Darrow! How good it is to see you! It has been some time. Are you in need of a new gown?” the shopkeeper and most fashionable modiste in London asked with a beaming smile.
“No, Madame, not today,” Effie said. The bell tinkled again, signifying that Highcliff had entered. “But is there a place where you and I—and my friend—might speak privately?”
The shopkeeper looked askance at them both, but nodded. “For you, Miss Darrow, certainly. If you will follow me, I have a small, private parlor in back.”
Through the rabbit warren of bolts of cloth and half-made dresses, they followed the dressmaker until they emerged at the entrance to a small room. It was windowless, but decorated with light colors and well-lit by gas lamps and strategically placed mirrors that amplified the light. A settee and armchair richly upholstered in