Shady Lady (12 page)

“Eric is illegitimate,” he said.

“What?” She was shocked.

“Didn’t you work it out? His grandmother’s name is Foley. So is his mother’s.”

She shook her head. “I thought Mrs. Foley was Eric’s grandmother on his father’s side.”

“No.”

He seemed reluctant to go on, but she was too curious to be put off by that. “What about his father? Don’t tell me, I suppose he was already married!”

“Something like that. But he always provided for Eric and his mother. He was a decent man, Jo. He left money for Eric’s education and money to support Eric’s mother.”

“Little enough if you ask me.” She lapsed into silence. After a while, she looked up with an appeal in her eyes. “Can’t you see that it would be better if I were Eric’s guardian? There’s an excellent school in Stratford, the Grammar School, the school that Shakespeare once attended. Eric could go there as a day boy and come home to me every evening. Why do you keep shaking your head?”

“Because you’re not thinking. You’re a widow, a single woman. There isn’t a court in the land that would allow you to become Eric’s guardian, not unless his father had stipulated it in his will, and that didn’t happen.”

“Well, of course it didn’t happen! I never knew Eric’s father!”

“Don’t get angry with me! I didn’t make the laws.”

Her gaze was hostile. His was veiled.

She was first to break the silence. In a more conciliatory tone, she said, “I was thinking of an informal arrangement. If you and Mr. Sutherland are agreeable, the law won’t stand in our way.”

“But I’m not agreeable.”

Her hands curled into fists. “Do you mind telling me why?”

“Not at all. You’ve known Eric for only a short while. What if you discover, as time goes on, that he’s not what you thought he was?”

“I wouldn’t abandon him, if that’s what you think. When I make a commitment, I keep it.”

“Yes, I know. That’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Then why are you being so difficult?”

A slight smile curved his lips, but it was fleeting. “I might ask why you are being so unreasonable. No, listen to me, Jo. All that the vicar and I are trying to do is honor the wishes of Eric’s father.”

She leaned toward him, an appeal in her eyes. “He couldn’t have foreseen this situation, where Eric is alone in the world with no family to turn to.”

“I think he did, but even if he didn’t, it won’t do. A single woman with a child would arouse the worst kind of gossip.”

“As though I care about that!” she retorted.

“You may not, but you can bet your last farthing that the vicar does. And it wouldn’t be good for Eric either.”

There were other arguments she might have used, but she saw that his mind was made up and nothing she said would change it. So she marshaled her dignity and asked him about the schools he considered suitable for Eric. None of them was anywhere near Stratford. She thought it must be deliberate.

When there was a lull in the conversation, she said, “When do you expect Eric to go away to school?”

“There’s no hurry. His ribs have to heal first. But I’d rather he stayed in London where I can keep an eye on him, so if you’re planning to return to Stratford, let me know and I’ll make other arrangements for Eric.”

For a moment she was stunned, then she gasped and rushed into speech. “This is intolerable! If it hadn’t been for my aunt and me, Eric would still be in that dreadful school, in that monster’s power. We rescued him! Now you come along and suddenly you’re his guardian and you’re talking about taking Eric away from us?”

“I came along,” he replied sharply, “because you invited me. And I don’t remember saying anything about taking Eric away from you. He’ll go to school, eventually, as all boys do. Until then, as his guardian, I am entitled to have some say in the ordering of his life. I’m fixed in London for the next little while. If you take him to Stratford, I’ll hardly see him.”

Eyes clashed and locked.

He was the one to cut the silence. “What is it to be, Jo?” he asked quietly. “Do you return to Stratford or stay in town?”

Her voice was like ice. “I’m not in a hurry to get back to Stratford.”

“What about the
Journal
?”

“I have an excellent colleague who can manage on his own for a few weeks.”

“Ah.”

“What does that mean?”

He spread his hands. “I’m impressed. It’s not every day I come across a lady who owns and runs a successful business enterprise.”

She looked for mockery and saw none. “Thank you.”

Another long silence ensued. She didn’t know why he lingered. He must know she wanted him to go.

The thought was unworthy. Without his help, she didn’t know what would have become of Eric, not to mention herself. She couldn’t expect him to think like her in every particular. That was the trouble. It was irrational, but she
did
expect him to think exactly like she did, at least about Eric, and when he didn’t, it rankled.

She was casting around in her mind for a neutral topic of conversation when he said conversationally, “Our mutual friend, Henry Gardiner, tells me that the
Journal
was foundering until you took the helm.”

It was the truth, but it seemed disloyal to John to admit it. “I was lucky,” she said. “I acquired a few writers who were writing what people wanted to read. It was as simple as that.”

“Writers such as your friend Lady Tellall?”

She gave him another hostile look. She wasn’t forgetting that he had once referred to the
Journal
as a broadsheet. The insult still stung. “Not everyone is a glutton for literary works, you know, or devoted to politics. Some of us like to read stories of real people. I don’t take the
Times
as my model. If I did, most of my readers would cancel their subscriptions. I prefer the
Courier
. The serious news and the parliamentary report are still there, but not on the front page.”

He said gently, “Jo, I’m not finding fault. I applaud your success.” He paused. “But Lady Tellall! She writes about real people, but she misrepresents them.”

She tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. “You can always write a letter to the editor with your complaint, and I’ll make sure it’s published.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of lowering myself to her level!”

“Mmm. Pity. It would sell more papers. Or you could try suing me. You’d lose, of course, but that would sell more papers as well.”

His lips thinned, then suddenly he laughed. When he got up, she did too, and followed him to the door. She said, “You said that you would make other arrangements for Eric if I returned to Stratford. What other arrangements?”

He was laughing when he turned to face her. “Do you never give up?”

“Never!”

“Eric could go to my sister and her husband. They have children of their own. I think Eric would like it there.”

“I see.” Her voice was coated with acid. “A husband makes all the difference!”

“I’m afraid so. Now, if you were to marry . . .” He left the words hanging, inviting a response.

She wondered where this was leading. He could be caustic when he wanted to be, and she had no desire for that acid tongue to make a mockery of her marriage.

“I doubt that I shall ever marry again,” she replied carefully. “John and I were very happy. We were well suited. I don’t expect to meet another who would suit me half as well. That’s why I won’t marry.”

“He sounds like an exceptional man.”

She heard something in his voice, not amusement but a change of inflection. “If being good and decent is considered exceptional, then I suppose he was.” She lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug. “He wasn’t like you. He wasn’t a man of the world. He wasn’t particularly handsome or charming.” She smiled to herself. “He could be quite gruff when he wanted to be. He was also kind, generous, and as straight as an arrow. That was John.” She looked at him curiously. “Why do you want to know?”

There was a change in him. The clear gray eyes became veiled, but only for a moment. Then he was the Waldo she knew, cynical and mocking.

“No particular reason,” he said, “except that I was under the impression that yours was a grand passion. I think I was misled. Was I?”

His flippant rejoinder was more hurtful than annoying, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to show it. She tried to make her smile as easy as his. “Passion is transitory, Mr. Bowman. Haven’t you discovered that yet? John and I were friends as well as lovers. Our marriage was grounded in friendship and mutual respect.”

“Is that yes or no?”

Now he had gone too far. “Don’t mock what you don’t know!” Her voice was tight.

His was amused. “You took the words right out of my mouth.
Passion
, Jo. If you haven’t experienced it, you’ve been cheated.” When he lowered his head to hers, she held her ground. “Now I know why you kiss like a novice,” he whispered.

He was chuckling when he left her.

She took a moment or two to compose herself before she joined Eric. They played cards, but her mind wasn’t on the game. She was thinking up annihilating rejoinders to wipe the laughter from Waldo’s eyes. As her temper cooled, however, it occurred to her that he had not answered her question. Why was he so interested in John?

When Waldo turned the corner of Greek Street into Soho Square, Sergeant Harper fell into step beside him. He was in his early forties, and his sun-baked face wore a perpetual frown. His garments were well-made and tailored to fit his stocky frame, but he never appeared to be comfortable in them. When he was in uniform, however, he was an imposing, compelling figure.

They walked the short distance to one of the coffee shops that had recently sprung up in the area. Waldo’s mind was preoccupied. He was thinking of John Chesney and how Jo had put her husband on a pedestal. No man could live up to what Jo expected in a mate. He’d been hard on her for her own good. He was perfectly sure that John Chesney had been a good, decent man, but he’d been in his grave for three years. It was more than time that Jo cut her ties to the past and looked to the future.

There was something else that irritated him, something that Eric had told him, in all innocence, when they were playing cards while both Jo and her aunt were out of the house. It seemed that the boy had overheard snatches of conversation that were definitely not meant for his ears. Aunt Jo was worried about her friend. No one knew where she was. That’s why Aunt Jo had come up to town, to find her friend.

He had not mentioned it to her because he hadn’t wanted to betray the boy, and he was hoping that she would mention it to him first.

Why hadn’t she? That was the thought that nagged at him.

Harper led the way to a window table. Though they couldn’t see Mrs. Daventry’s house, they had a good view of the square. They would see anyone coming and going from Greek Street.

Waldo ordered coffee. Harper, who had not eaten yet, ordered the steak pie and new potatoes.

Harper knew the reason for Waldo’s trip to Stratford, so Waldo spent the next few minutes relating the outcome. He ended by saying, “She’s not going anywhere, not for the next little while. She won’t leave the boy with the servants. She’ll wait till her aunt comes home.”

“Do you still think she may run off with the boy?”

“No. She has other things on her mind. But if I’m wrong, she’ll go to Stratford, if only to take charge of the
Journal
. That paper means a great deal to her. It won’t be difficult to find Eric there.”

“Do you still want her watched?”

Waldo thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye on her from now on.”

Harper had always enjoyed a familiar relationship with all the officers he’d served under. Captain Bowman was a different case. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. The man who now charmed his way through the most exclusive drawing rooms in London wasn’t the man he’d known in Spain, when they’d both worked on special assignments for British Intelligence. Captain Bowman was known to have nerves of steel; he was cool under fire. He would not tolerate incompetence in the men who were under his command. The men who worked closely with him revered him. As for others, like Harper, who were not part of that inner circle, they sucked in their bellies and squared their shoulders whenever the captain came into their line of vision.

Waldo, who had been watching the emotions chase themselves across Harper’s unhandsome face, said humorously, “Harper, you disappoint me. I’ve been led to believe that you’re disastrously outspoken. Don’t hold back on my account. There’s a question you’re burning to ask. What is it?”

“Two questions,” said Harper, whose hard stare was just short of a glare.

“Well?”

“Why can’t the boy go with Mrs. Chesney to Stratford? She seems fond of him and he of her, at least from what you’ve told me. It seems the best solution all round to my way of thinking.”

Waldo gave him the answer he’d given Jo, that it would give rise to unpleasant speculation and gossip and the vicar would never allow it.

“If you’re the boy’s guardian,” Harper went on doggedly, “then what the vicar wants don’t count.”

Waldo smiled and rested his linked fingers on the flat of the table. “Next question,” he said.

Harper’s bushy eyebrows climbed. “You’ve just answered it, sir. I was going to ask what happened to the Captain Bowman I knew in Spain, but I see he’s still alive and kicking. You never confided in nobody then neither.”

“Harper,” Waldo gently remonstrated, “I was a secret agent. We’re not supposed to confide in people.”

“I’m not talking about those kinds of secrets. You know something that you’re keeping to yourself.”

“
Disastrously outspoken
doesn’t do you justice. But enough of this cat-and-mouse game. You have a report to make, sergeant, and I’d like to hear it. So, what has Mrs. Chesney been up to in my absence?”

Harper sucked in his belly, squared his shoulders, and made his report.

Waldo was in his rooms in the Albany, dressed to go out for dinner, sipping a sherry while he waited for his friend Ruggles to call for him. He was thinking of Eric’s artless remarks and Sergeant Harper’s report. When he put them together, he had a very good idea of what was going on.