Bea was filled with a feeling of dread that went ten times deeper than anything she’d felt when the icy gutter water splashed down on her. “Oh, dear,” she sighed, sending Sister Constance a long-suffering look.
“I’ll catch him out at the party tomorrow night,” Diana went on, a devious light in her eyes. “I’ll force him to confess in front of everyone just what kind of nuisance he is. That’ll show him.”
“This is precisely why I took orders,” Sister Constance said, rolling her eyes. “Men and love are far too much trouble.”
“I am not in love with John Darrow,” Diana said through clenched teeth.
“Of course, you aren’t, dearie,” Sister Constance said, patting Diana’s shoulders while sending Bea a sardonic look.
It was all Bea could do not to laugh, in spite of the cold and the smell surrounding her. Diana was as in love as she was.
Which gave her an idea. If Diana was determined to call John out for pranks—that Bea was certain he hadn’t pulled—at the party, then perhaps she could bring things to a head with Harrison as far as marriage was concerned. After all, Bianca had encouraged her to take things into her own hands. Seduction was one way to do that, but there were dozens of others she could try.
Chapter 8
The simple hall in Clerkenwell had undergone a complete transformation by the time Harrison arrived for the party on Christmas Eve. Its drab walls were hung with garlands of holly and pine accentuated by bright red bows and silver bells. More garlands had been strung from the rafters and decorated with paper snowflakes made by the orphans of the various institutions that the party was intended to support. The effect was almost as if they were in a snowy forest. Several Christmas trees had been brought in and decorated with shiny baubles of all descriptions. Some of the older boys stood guard over the trees, minding the candles that illuminated their boughs.
Dozens upon dozens of wrapped gifts were nestled under the trees, and already boys and girls of all ages were crowding around to gaze at them in wonder. A few of the bolder children even picked up the gifts to shake them, as though they could guess what was inside. They were minded by women, and a few men, as in the case of Stephen Siddel—who had as many youngsters crowded around him and gazing at him in awe as if he were Father Christmas himself—taking care that no serious harm came to the gifts. Each of them was decked out in what Harrison was certain were their very best clothes, though the circles of society that he ran in would likely say they looked shabby. They would have been wrong. Everyone in the hall appeared happy, and happiness was the most attractive garment of all.
Tables stretched along one wall containing refreshments of all sorts. Harrison recognized several members of the May Flowers, friends of his, manning the treats, including Henrietta O’Shea and Cecelia Marlowe. They were some of the highest-ranking women in the room, and yet they blended in with the middle- and working-class women as though they had all gone to school together.
It was as cheery a sight as Harrison could imagine and a testament to Bianca’s organizational skills, but Harrison’s heart was heavy for so many reasons, not least of which was the woman on his arm. His beloved grandmother had insisted on attending the party with him. By the looks of her, she was enjoying herself immensely, even though it was necessary for her to use a cane to get around in her old age. Harrison scanned the room for a chair where she could sit, but even as he spotted one, he had the feeling she wouldn’t be relegated to the corners of the room quietly.
“Where is that fetching sweetheart of yours?” she asked as Harrison steered her over to the Christmas trees so that she could watch the bright-faced and excited children. “I was given to believe she would be at this party.”
Harrison sent her a wary, sideways look. “I’m certain she’ll be here at any moment, Grandmama. She and Lady Diana were instrumental in carrying this whole thing off.”
His grandmother hummed and glanced up at him with a knowing smile. “I expect to see the darling creature wearing my ring when she arrives.”
Self-consciousness slithered down Harrison’s spine. “Yes, well, there may be a slight problem with that.”
His grandmother looked surprised. “You have proposed to her by now, haven’t you?”
“I intended to propose this evening,” he said, tugging at his collar. The room suddenly seemed entirely too warm with too many people crowding around.
“Intended to?” His grandmother looked shocked. “You mean you didn’t run straight to that angel’s house to drop down on one knee the moment I handed over Mother’s ring?”
Sweat began to creep down Harrison’s back. “Yes, well, you see, there was a slight hiccup with the whole process.”
He cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, and scrambled for a way to confess he’d lost the family ring. More than that, he feared he would have to confess that it was gone forever. He and John hadn’t spotted so much as a glint of it, and they’d checked every box at every orphanage the donations had been taken to. The only explanation he could think of was that someone had discovered the ring and lifted it for their own financial gain. For all he knew, some middle-class housewife was about to unwrap the most precious Christmas present of her life, thanks to his carelessness. And now he had to confess all to his grandmother.
He opened his mouth, praying that he’d find the right words to make himself look foolish without appearing criminally stupid, but every thought blasted out of his head as he spotted Bea in the doorway. She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, so much so that the breath left his lungs. She wore a magnificent gown of festive red and had her red-gold hair caught up in the latest style, a glittering pin holding it in place. The cut of her gown showed off her shapely figure, and the expanse of skin it exposed across her chest and shoulders was as pure as porcelain. The blush that kissed her face was the stuff artists would have scrambled over each other to paint, and the hope in her eyes as she searched the room left him ready to leap into action or fall at her feet if she wanted him to.
As if she could hear his thoughts and feel the force of his love, she glanced right at him and smiled. If Harrison had trouble breathing before, that trouble was tenfold when he saw the way her eyes glittered, even across the room, as they met his.
His grandmother huffed a laugh at his side. “Well, my boy,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “You’d better stop dragging your feet and propose to that fine lady before one of the other gentlemen in this hall sees her and snatches her up.”
“Would that I could,” Harrison sighed before he could check himself.
His grandmother turned to him. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“I…um….”
Harrison was spared having to come up with an excuse, or confessing about losing her ring, when John strode up to him and clapped him on the back. “This isn’t fair at all,” he said with a rakish look for Grandmama. “How is it that this miscreant has snagged the finest lady in the room this evening?”
“Good evening yourself, Lord Whitlock,” Harrison’s grandmother said, sending John a look that said she was too old and had seen too much to fall for his tricks. She did, however, let go of Harrison’s arm so that she could tuck her hand into the crook of John’s elbow. “You always were a rascal,” she said with a chuckle.