Deliciously Wicked (5 page)

“Somehow I knew this would involve the handsome Mr. Mandeville,” Charlotte said.

“Let her finish,” Willow said.

“It appears that Mr. Munden, the foreman in charge of Mr. Mandeville's block, is quite convinced of Mr. Mandeville's guilt. For obvious reasons, I cannot offer him an alibi without severely damaging my reputation.” She gave a courtesy nod to Willow. There was no reason to tell them she'd come very close to compromising them without a single thought of her reputation. “So I feel it is only right that I offer my skills, our skills if
you're willing, to help clear his name. I've done what I can to secure his position at the factory, but I feel as if I must do more. Not only Mr. Mandeville's innocence is in question, though. More importantly, there is a thief working at my father's factory. He must be brought to justice. Will you help me?”

“Of course we will,” Amelia said.

“What does your father have to say about this situation?” Willow asked.

“I haven't told him. He does not need to worry about this. I want his recuperation to go as smoothly and quickly as possible.” Meg popped a bite of cake into her mouth.

“What is it that you would have us do, Meg, to help with Mr. Mandeville's situation?” Amelia asked.

“I suppose we can start with determining whether whoever did steal those boxes sold them anywhere,” Meg said.

“How will we do that?” Charlotte said.

“We should start with our servants; they often hear about these sorts of activities,” Willow said. “But Meg, you should inquire from the other workers if anyone saw anything. Then we can speak with some pawnbrokers, see if any of them have made a similar purchase.”

“I'll speak to Colin tonight to see if he has any ideas,” Amelia said.

“Brilliant!” Meg said. “I knew you would help.”

“What of Mr. Mandeville?” Amelia asked. “Does he mind us assisting you?”

“He's not doing any investigation on his own,” Meg said.

“Why on earth not?” Charlotte asked.

Meg relayed his feelings to them, about not needing to prove himself. “Perhaps once we're making progress, he'll be more inclined to join in.”

“We've all been falsely accused of something at some point in our lives,” Willow said. “Perhaps not of the criminal nature, but nonetheless it is most disturbing, and everyone reacts quite differently in those situations.”

“I do believe Willow is feeling sympathetic toward Mr. Mandeville,” Charlotte said playfully.

Willow crossed her legs. “I was only trying to present an explanation for his reluctance. Give him the benefit of the doubt, so to speak.”

“It was an excellent point to make,” Amelia said.

“It is exciting to have an actual case to work on,” Charlotte said. “Something besides the exceedingly frustrating Jack of Hearts case, that is.”

“Perhaps next time we meet, we will have uncovered something,” Willow said.

“And if, in the meantime, we discover anything pertinent, we can call a special meeting by messenger,” Charlotte suggested.

“Agreed,” Meg said.

It was settled. Now that the Ladies' Amateur Sleuth Society was working on the mystery of the missing boxes, revealing the truth shouldn't be too far off.

T
oday they would start the work on the decorative boxes. Yesterday Meg had gone over to the packing department to see the boxes herself. She needed a better image of what she and Gareth were to create. Her father had told her all about them when he'd first developed the concept and she'd thought it was a brilliant idea.

Keepsake boxes filled with fancy chocolates. Once all the delights were eaten, the velvet-lined drawers and spaces could be used to hold jewelry and other trinkets. Some were simple boxes with a hinged lid, but others were more like tiny chests with drawers and doors.

She and Gareth were to seal in the velvet and then paste the prints on the outside, and add tiny mirrors for decoration. It would be slow and detailed work.

It took a good thirty-minute carriage ride to get from Amelia's house back to Piddington Hall due to the wet
and muddy roads. Meg's insides felt jostled, and she wasn't certain if it was from the bumpy ride or her nerves. It was the right thing to do to help Gareth. Not only that, but it was giving her another look at the inner workings of the factory.

She had to stop by and pick up Ellen, her maid, so that they might have a chaperone during their evening time at the factory. Far be it from her to be criticized for the same thing twice, so she wanted to ensure that she was prepared in case Gareth accused her again. Not to mention, Willow would be awfully proud of her attempt to protect herself.

So with Ellen seated in the carriage next to her, she rolled down the hill to the factory. Meg had already made a decision about tonight; she would not allow Gareth to rattle her or irritate her. Simply because he had a tendency to be surly, that did not mean that she would return his foul mood with one of her own. No, she would be sweet and charming. Witty, if she could manage.

Tonight could be considered an official task at the factory, so she took a moment to straighten her dress, taking careful consideration with the tie at the neckline. Then she opened the factory doors. As she had done before, she did not look to her left where the machinery sat and the workers toiled the hours away; no, she kept her attention straight ahead as she made her way to the stairs. If she were to prove she could manage the factory, then she should act the part. Which meant spending considerable time in her father's office.

Mr. Munden stepped into her path. She stopped before she ran into him.

“Good day, Mr. Munden,” she replied. She tried to
keep her voice civil, yet laced with an air of authority. She'd rather not involve him in the situation any further.

He nodded and eyed Ellen, who stood beside her. He almost allowed them to pass, but spoke up before Meg took a step. “Might I ask why you're here, Miss Piddington?”

“My father has asked me to look in on things while he's at home healing.”

Munden's gaze narrowed in either annoyance or offense. “You think we're not running things without him?”

“Oh no.” She did her best to placate him, though it grated her nerves to do so. She wasn't quite ready to take her work at the factory so far as to goad a foreman into quitting. “Indeed, I'm certain you and the other foremen are doing a fine job managing the factory, Mr. Munden, but my father is eager for me to begin learning the business.”

That wasn't precisely the way the conversation with her father had gone. Before he could question her further, she began moving toward the office. “I shall be here on a regular basis.” She pointed upstairs. “In my father's office, should anyone need me.” And with that she stepped away from him and started up the stairs.

She nearly giggled as she closed the door behind her, but minding the windows lining the office wall that overlooked the factory floor, she restrained herself.

“He is the vilest of men, Ellen,” she said.

“He seemed as much,” her maid agreed.

It felt good though to take control of matters. If she were any sort of daughter at all, she would have done
this years ago and learned this business at her father's side.

Although it was quite likely that her father would have had none of that. He loved her dearly, but like all fathers, he wanted her to make a good match, marry, and produce children. But she couldn't afford to do that. Marriage was not for her. Not that she didn't want it. She wasn't foolish enough to pretend she did not desire a husband and children.

Loving involved too much of a risk. A risk of heartache, a risk of loss, and she simply wasn't strong enough. That had become all too clear to her when her mother had died. The pain had been so great, it had nearly consumed her. She'd learned quickly to swallow her pain and put on a smile for those around her. Especially for her papa.

So she squelched those desires, and on most days she managed just fine. On occasion, though, they'd creep out and threaten to choke her with their intensity. Today, however, was a good day, and the needs she couldn't permanently forget were nicely hidden away.

Meg unpinned her hat and hung it on the coat tree by the office door, then took a seat behind her father's large mahogany desk. It would be an hour or so before Gareth completed his shift. In the meantime, she would tidy her father's desk and read a few things to better acquaint herself with any new business. As she took in her surroundings, an overwhelming sense of pride welled in her chest. Her father had come from modest beginnings and had built this factory to what it was today, the third largest confectionery in England. She would never be so accomplished or so determined, but she would strive to carry on his legacy.

 

Gareth had watched Meg walk into the factory and straight up to her father's office. Again in one of those dresses that fit her body divinely. The cut of the jacket flaunted her tiny waist, and the bustle accentuated her rounded bottom. The fact that he actually knew her waist was tiny and her bottom rounded did not flee from his mind. Although he had only touched her a brief moment, while he hoisted her up to that window, neither his hands nor mind had forgotten.

It was enough to drive a man to Bedlam.

In a short time, he'd be alone with her. Caught in a situation he was still unsure how he'd wound up in. Rotten luck. Or maybe it was a family curse. His father had certainly had a lifetime of bad luck. Perhaps it made more sense to question how Gareth had managed to survive in London this long, even if he was slightly outside the bustling city, without encountering an even larger disaster.

So the fact that out of all the men working in this factory, he'd be the one accused shouldn't have surprised him in the least.

He was tired of it. He'd be a bloody liar to say he wasn't. People would believe what they wanted about a person regardless of the truth; he'd learned that long ago. Better to simply live life as quietly as possible in hopes of not being noticed at all.

Sometimes that plan even succeeded. Yet other times, as was the case with Mr. Munden, the plan failed miserably. It failed with Meg too. She had certainly noticed him, no thanks to his reckless behavior that initiated kisses.

He had not yet decided if it was a blessing or a curse
to be caught in Meg's attentions. A man would be a fool not to want attention from such a woman. Fool or not, he couldn't afford the risk.

Meg's attentions could lead to only one result. Marriage.

He'd long ago given up the accoutrements of a gentleman, but he still had a gentleman's honor. Being a selfish bastard might come as first nature with him, but he need not given in. Surely he could be stronger—stronger than his damn father had been. He would not toy with her affections or her reputation, any more than he already had.

He would end that tonight. There would be no more kisses, or thoughts of kisses. Meg was an innocent, and if he wasn't careful, he could hurt her in ways he didn't know where to begin to salvage. He wouldn't allow that to happen. She was helping him and he appreciated it. It was a gesture made from kindness, though, and he ought to remember that.

Gareth watched the men around him closing down for the day. They were working longer hours these last few weeks, trying to keep up with all the orders. The store in London was selling the goods as quickly as they opened their doors. It was good for all of them. There had even been whispers about a raise in the wage. But Gareth wouldn't hold his breath on that one. He'd worked long enough to know that the Piddington employees had it good. Damn good. And they'd do well to keep their mouths shut and be thankful for their current pay and all the other benefits of their positions.

“You working late again tonight?” Jamie asked.

“I have to replace those stolen boxes.”

Jamie made a face. “Do you want me to stay and help you? I don't know how, mind you, but I can learn anything.”

Gareth smiled at his unlikely friend. “No. You go home to your family.” Jamie smiled, and Gareth was struck by the youthfulness in his face. He was a good ten years Gareth's senior, but he was the most contented, happy man that Gareth had ever seen. “Mary will have your hide if you're late for supper.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes jokingly. “Are you certain you've never met my Mary?”

Gareth laughed. “No, I've never met her.”

“Is the lass helping you tonight? I saw her come in earlier.”

“Yes.”

“It will make the time move by quicker to have someone to chat with. If you get bored, you need only look up and see her smile.”

If only his friend knew that Meg's smile could be his undoing. “You're the worst sort of romantic, Jamie. Go home.”

Jamie pounded Gareth on the back. “See you tomorrow then.” He gave him a wink, then turned to go.

Gareth leaned against the far wall, partially hidden behind the shadow of a door. There was no reason for him to advertise the fact that he was staying behind. Especially since everyone else had seen Meg enter the factory. Surely everyone knew she had not yet left. It took only a few minutes longer for the rest of the men to file out of the factory, leaving Gareth alone.

With newfound determination to keep as much distance between himself and the beauty as he could, he
made his way to the makeshift packaging room to begin work on the boxes. He saw no reason to go and retrieve her.

The room they were working in was going to be the office of the incoming staff. Men in cravats who wouldn't have to get their hands and clothes dirty. Gareth wanted one of those positions, but so far he'd done a rotten job showing that.

If his father hadn't wasted all their money, Gareth wouldn't need a job. He'd be wealthy and living comfortably in the country or in a luxurious town home in the best part of London. But life hadn't worked out for him that way, so he had to work, which was why he couldn't let anyone know the truth about him.

The long, narrow room had only one table to fill the space. He made his way to it and sat. Atop the wooden table sat the seventeen boxes, all different sizes and styles, and the rest of the materials they would need to complete their task. Plush velvet material, small cut mirrors, prints of kittens and maidens and floral landscapes, and glue all laid out for their use.

He grabbed one of the smaller boxes, figuring it was better to start with a minimal amount of work and build up to the larger, more elaborate boxes. He'd never even held one of the finished boxes before, but he had seen them. He hoped his memory would serve him well tonight.

It only took ten minutes for her to appear in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What do I appear to be doing?” he asked. Then he added, “Working on the boxes.”

“But you don't know how yet,” she said. “I went and spoke to the women in the packaging room and they gave me instructions on how to proceed.”

He caught her frown before he looked down at his current project. “I've seen them before. I decided that was enough information to get started.”

“I am supposed to help you with these,” she said firmly.

“Be my guest.” He motioned to the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“I'll have you know that my maid is right outside the door. That should give me sufficient protection,” she said.

He had half a mind to tell her she didn't need protection from him, but it would have been a lie. He was glad she'd brought her maid, glad to have a buffer between them so he might control himself and not give in to the temptation of her lips.

She sat across from him. “It appears that all of the supplies are here.”

He knew she was not satisfied. That he had irritated her, and if he were half a gentleman, he would apologize for his rudeness. Instead he found great pleasure in her irritability. Not because he was cruel, but rather because she was so easy to rile. It didn't hurt that she looked so damn sensual when she got mad. She had this habit of chewing her lip, and it nearly drove him insane.

She leaned forward to eye his progress. “You're doing a nice job.”

How he wanted to say something sardonic, but there was no reason to make her completely dislike him. Quite soon she sat working quickly, no longer pursing
her lips, but rather grinning. And humming. It was as if he had invited little Snow White to work beside him. He nearly expected to see woodland animals gather at her feet.

She looked up and caught him staring. A wide smile spread across her face.

He scowled and looked back down to his box.

She laughed heartily, and the sound of it warmed his insides.

“You like me,” she said.

That caught him off guard, and he found himself struggling to suppress a smile. “Do I?”

“Oh yes.” She met his glance. “You don't want to admit it. But you simply can't help yourself. Rest assured, though, that it is a normal reaction.”

That earned her a hearty laugh of his own. “Is that so?”

“Indeed. Everyone likes me.” She nodded, and her red curls bobbed. “I'm a likable sort.”