Based on the heat in his eyes when he’d studied her earlier, she’d expected to find scorched furniture. If they hadn’t engaged in sexual relations, why was the woman here?
Daisy shook her head. It didn’t matter. No one had paid her to care about Mrs. Mallard. She was to confirm that Mrs. Parker was involved with this Bishop fellow. She did hope the woman made an appearance soon.
Her gaze shifted to the desk, over to the door where no footman stood guard outside, and back to the desk. She was quite alone. Other than the thudding of her heart and the ticking of the mantel clock, she heard no other movements.
After walking over to the large structure, she set the tray on the corner. Several newspapers rested evenly on one side. They were of no interest to her. She released the latch on an elegant wooden box to reveal correspondence. A quick glance through missives indicated they were related to business not paramours. She’d hoped for a treasure trove of love letters written by women who might have enjoyed his company, in particular one from Mrs. Parker. It would have been worth gold. A stack of ledgers was off to the other side. They would be related to business as well, no doubt. Still, she thumbed through the first to reveal columns of numbers. She lifted the second, her breath catching as her gaze fell on the third. In gilded letters was written Appointments. It couldn’t be that easy to gain what she needed.
Licking her lips, she glanced again toward the doorway. No one about. No shadows wavering beyond it to indicate someone’s imminent arrival. No distant sounds to be heard.
She set the diary in the middle of the desk. Between pages, a slender blue silk ribbon trailed out from the top. Using it as her guide, she opened the book to the present day, Friday. Each day was given its own page, and along the edge of the paper was listed various times. Today’s date showed 9 p.m. Chessmen Twin Dragons.
So that’s where he was headed. He’d be late to his appointment because of Mrs. Mallard. Had she been an unexpected visitor then? Had they previously engaged in a lover’s tiff? Had she come to straighten things out with him? Had she visited for another reason? Although Mrs. Mallard was not her concern, Daisy possessed an inquisitive mind, and questions constantly tumbled through it whenever she was presented with anything new or baffling. She always enjoyed deciphering any sort of puzzle.
She glanced at the day before. Thursday. Nothing in the evening. If he’d gone out, she hadn’t been alerted to it, but then her present duties involved assisting the upstairs chambermaid. That she’d been asked to deliver a tea service this evening had been unexpected. She turned the page back to Wednesday. 8 p.m. Blue-Eyes.
That would have been the woman she’d seen going up the stairs with him. She was disappointed he didn’t use names. Although perhaps it was only with this particular lover. Tuesday was dinner at Knight’s. Monday he’d gone to the theater with Rook. Chess pieces. Were they aliases as well? Could they be other paramours? Now she was curious about his future appointments.
She turned to Monday next. 9 p.m. Raven. Mrs. Parker had black hair. Could he be referencing her? On Wednesday he had another appointment with Blue-Eyes. Thursday evening had a notation of F&S. Was that another lady or a club perhaps? Surely not the Fair and Spare. The notorious establishment catered to bachelors, spinsters, and those no longer married who sought companionship or more—a sexual partner—for the evening. What need had he to seek out a rendezvous when ladies were coming to him? Was he that insatiable?
Daisy heard approaching footfalls. Quickly she closed the book and returned it along with the others to their places. She’d just picked up the tray when Mr. Perkins strode in and gave her a suspicious look. “The master left some time ago. What are you still doing in here?”
“I was simply tidying up as ordered. A few items were scattered hither and yon.”
“Bishop doesn’t like us messing about his desk. That’s not where you put the tea tray, is it?”
“No, but it’s where I found it when I returned to the room.” She’d become quite skilled at lying convincingly.
“Strange, that.”
“Perhaps his guest moved it to prepare herself another cup of tea.”
“Perhaps.” He jerked his head back slightly. “Come on then. Once those are washed, all the chores will be done and we can retire for the night.”
“Yes, sir.” With hasty steps she followed him out. By Monday, with any luck, she’d have the answer she sought regarding her client’s wife. The challenge would be proving it.
“You’re unusually quiet this evening.”
Bishop glanced over at the Duke of Kingsland—King—who occupied the chair to his right. Knight and Rook were also in the circle, seemingly curious to hear his response to their friend’s question. They were all situated in a corner of the library within the Twin Dragons, a club that had once been known as Dodger’s Drawing Room and had been the domain of men. But its new owner, Drake Darling, had expanded it to include women.
For some reason watching the ladies moving about had reminded Bishop of the new maid. He wondered if she ever visited here. He doubted it. He paid a good wage to his staff, but she didn’t strike him as someone who would spend frivolously on memberships. If she belonged to any club at all, it was probably Aiden Trewlove’s that accommodated women’s whims. Or perhaps she was a member of Griffith Stanwick’s Fair and Spare. But if she was a member of the latter, he’d never seen her there. And he would have noticed her. He tended to notice everything. “I have a lot on my mind lately.”
“Anything you care to discuss?” Rook asked.
Have you ever had occasion to set eyes on a woman and feel as though she had branded herself on your mind, a woman you can’t seem to stop thinking about? Who sends a thousand questions tumbling through your head like petals caught in a gusty breeze, like a whirlwind of discarded leaves traveling through the park? And makes you think in poetic phrases when you never have before? “No.”
Eyebrows went up at that, and Bishop knew it was because he wasn’t normally a man of few words. He relented. “If you must know, I’m contemplating a daisy.”
Rook laughed. “For what purpose?”
“As an addition to my garden.” At a table, sipping tea, in a yellow frock, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat. One he would remove so the sun could kiss her cheeks. He suspected as a child, she’d had freckles.
“You already have one of the most elaborate gardens in London. I know of no other that has as many varieties of flowers as yours.”
“But it has no daisy.”
“I wondered if perhaps you were mulling over your latest unflattering appearance in the gossip rags,” Knight said. “I assume you saw the damning article.”
“I did indeed. Blackguard Blackwood has a poetic ring to it.”
“Gentlemen are usually quickly forgiven their transgressions,” King said. “It’s been months since yours came to light. I’m unable to determine why the gossipmongers continue to harp on them.”
“I wasn’t born into their ranks, so absolution isn’t so easily granted. I’ll understand if any of you wish to no longer associate with me.” To be honest, he’d been surprised to find them waiting for him, a tumbler of scotch resting on the table before the empty chair when he’d arrived.