What a Spinster Wants - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,38

disbelief. “I forget how removed you have been, Radcliffe,” Ingram said on a sigh. “Miranda has the ability to move in the highest circles effortlessly and could be employed as an operative for the Home or Foreign Office. She is conniving, she is mischievous, and she has absolutely no shame. I’ve never been more terrified of any person, male or female, in my entire life.”

“I find this difficult to imagine,” Graham admitted with some hesitation, seeing the effect the woman’s name had on the others. At their matching sly grins, he hastily added, “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“Wise notion,” Henshaw grunted, shaking his head.

“Miranda could help in the right circumstances,” Tony confirmed, taking them back to the topic. “What other measures are we putting in place?”

Henshaw straightened in his seat. “Edith is having word sent to me whenever Sir Reginald calls on her. I don’t have many calls upon my person at present, so in theory, I should be free to come if needed. Her footman, Owen, is everything a Highlander is expected to be, so I do not fear for much while he is there.”

“Good,” Graham murmured, his eyes staring off at nothing for the moment. “But why can we not do something about Sir Reginald himself?”

“Cam?” Tony asked with some invitation.

Cam heaved a disgruntled note. “My sister’s husband has some dealings with the law, and with some powers behind the law, none of which I know anything about. I am meeting with him this evening to beg for his assistance. And I hate begging.”

Ingram patted his back twice. “There, there.”

Graham snorted once. “But surely, for Lady Edith, we will all be making sacrifices.”

The table grew silent, all eyes on him.

That was unnerving, to say the least.

Was he wrong? He was willing to sacrifice for her, and he barely knew her. Why wouldn’t these men, who knew her better, do the same and more?

“I like you, Radcliffe,” Cam stated as though revelation had come to him.

Tony hissed in apparent pain. “So sorry, Radcliffe. Nobody deserves that.”

“No, indeed,” Ingram agreed.

“Lads, behave,” Henshaw suggested lazily. “The man only knows Lord Sterling. It’s not his fault we’ve got Tony instead.”

“Hey!”

Graham chuckled at that. “I trust Lord Sterling is also involved?”

“He will be,” Tony muttered with a dark look at his friend, “and anybody else we can trust.”

“Is that a long list?” Graham asked, lifting a brow.

The men looked at each other, faces wreathed in confusion.

“No,” Henshaw said slowly. “No, it isn’t.”

Chapter Nine

An unexpected guest is rarely a pleasant thing.

-The Spinster Chronicles, 4 September 1819

“A letter for you, Miss Perry.”

“Thank you, Owen! I cannot imagine who would wish to send me a letter here; I saw my mother only yesterday, and she had nothing of great importance to say at all. There is no reason for my brother to send me anything, either. He is far too busy gaming at present. Do you know anything of gaming, Owen? Apparently, James is rather skilled, but I have no idea what that means.”

Owen blinked at the barrage of words, and Edith bit her lip to restrain a laugh. Amelia had been staying with her for a week now, and there was a distinct change about the house since her arrival. Everything was brighter and more filled with cheer, and though Amelia was still not quite herself, she was an improvement on the place.

Even if she did talk a good deal more than Edith ever did.

“I dinna gamble much, miss,” Owen admitted after a heavy pause. “An’ ne’er well, when I do. But I’d be willin’ to teach ye if ye’ve a mind to learn it.”

Now it was Edith who stared, her mouth gaping. Owen rarely offered to do anything that did not involve physical violence, and there was nothing he detested so much as company. Yet here he was, offering to instruct Amelia in gaming, of all things.

“Would you?” Amelia squealed and beamed up at Owen as though he were her oldest friend. “That would be so wonderful, Owen. I would be ever so grateful. I do feel quite the dunce at times, you know. No one ever teaches young ladies the practical things in life.”

“Gaming is no’ verra practical, miss,” Owen told her with a wry smile Edith couldn’t believe she was seeing. “But I see yer point right enough. When next ye’ve an evening free, I can teach ye. Mistress, too, if she’s of a mind.”

Edith raised a brow at her manservant, catching his mischievous glint. “Should I be of a