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Miss Moore was undaunted. ‘Everyone can see Lucy is unhappy. We shall tell them you have generously included her in the lessons, so that she might seek more compatible employment.’
Morgana gave Miss Moore a sceptical look. The story was preposterous. She took a deep breath. It would nevertheless afford the servants some protection, should the whole business fall apart. They could honestly say their mistress lied to them.
A few minutes later, with Miss Moore at her side, Morgana summoned Mr and Mrs Cripps. The butler and housekeeper listened to the concocted story with impassive expressions. Morgana had the sinking feeling they believed not a word of the unlikely tale. They did not even blink when she added that all the staff would receive bonuses because of the extra work entailed in having three more household guests.
By late morning, Cook, the footmen and maids were all given the false story. Morgana prayed the deception would hold.
She gathered her girls in the library where they could not be glimpsed from the street. Lucy had found dresses for them, and Morgana supposed she would need to concoct another story to explain why they had not arrived with luggage of their own. She bit her lip in dismay at the mounting lies.
At least the girls’ appearance did not now give them away. They appeared as ordinary girls, ones who might indeed be nieces of Miss Moore. Except for Rose, who could not look ordinary if she tried, and who spoke with an Irish lilt besides.
Miss Moore walked into the room, Lady Hart leaning on her arm. ‘Miss Hart, I hope you do not mind. But I should like to help.’
It had been enough that Miss Moore had not packed up and left London. Morgana had never expected her assistance. ‘But what of Grandmama?’
‘Allow her to sit among us. She will enjoy the liveliness, you know. It will be good for her.’ Miss Moore helped Lady Hart into a chair.
Why not? thought Morgana. There was no risk her grandmother would remember enough to expose the truth.
‘I should like to teach comportment and manners and proper speech,’ Miss Moore said.
‘I can teach music,’ Rose chimed in. ‘My father is a musician, and I have been trained on harp and pianoforte as well as voice.’
Mary Phipps looked up shyly. ‘I… I used to be a governess. I can teach all manner of things.’
‘That is splendid, Miss Phipps.’ Morgana smiled at her. ‘Perhaps you can look through the books here and find something useful.’
Katy laughed. ‘Well, there is only one thing I know, but I can teach it, all right.’ She gave a bawdy glance around the room. ‘Might need one of those handsome footmen to help me.’
Miss Moore, who was a good deal shorter than the red-haired young woman, still effectively looked down her nose at her. ‘Miss Green,’ she said in clipped tones, ‘you will behave like a lady here in this house. You aspire to be a highflyer, attracting the best and the richest. To do so you cannot act like common Haymarket ware. You must not fraternise with the footmen. Do you understand?’
Oh, yes. Miss Moore would be an asset indeed.
Katy looked down at her lap, but with a hint of rebellion in her eye. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘It is Miss Moore, dear,’ she said gently.
‘Yes, miss,’ Katy corrected herself.
Lucy hung her head. ‘There’s nothin’ I can teach. I’ll just be a burden on everyone.’
Morgana walked over and put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. ‘You shall be in charge of supplies, Lucy. You managed to find everyone a proper dress and a bed to sleep in. In fact, I will prevail upon you to produce a trunk to be delivered, the nieces’ luggage. Do you think you can contrive such a thing?’
Lucy gave a surprised glance, then wrinkled her brow. It took several seconds, but she finally responded. ‘I could send to home for some of Amy’s and my old clothes. Would that do?’
‘That is an excellent idea.’ Morgana had forgotten about her lady’s maid. No matter what Miss Moore thought, Morgana simply must tell Amy the truth, though what the girl would say about it, she could only guess.
The day flew by with all of them talking and showing off their skills. When it was time for dinner Morgana led them to the main dining room. Lucy held back, insisting she ought not to eat there. Morgana acquiesced. There would be time enough to bring her abovestairs. To do so now would merely whip up the servants’ curiosity.
The dinner was the most pleasant Morgana had passed in the house to date. When Mr Cripps and the footmen left the room, Morgana and Miss Moore drew the girls into the conversation, learning more about their lives. Rose talked of growing up in Ireland and of recently coming to London. Mary spoke of being the daughter of a country vicar. When he died, she’d become a governess. She did not disclose how she wound up at Mrs Rice’s house. Katy, whose table manners needed the most improving, said she’d left Derbyshire to make her fortune in London and she’d go to the devil before she’d return there. Morgana’s grandmother cheerfully picked at her food and smiled at them all. At meal’s end, Morgana left the table in high spirits, confident that all would go well.
She retired to her room to dress for the musicale. As Amy worked on another braided style for her hair, Morgana told her the truth about the plan.
‘Do tell me what you think of this business, Amy. Tell me if you think I’ve done right by your sister.’
Amy frowned as she concentrated on sticking hairpins in securely. ‘It is not right, miss. I cannot say ‘tis right, because it is not, but Lucy was ready to run off again, I know she was.’ She gave Morgana a quick glance in the mirror. ‘You stopped her from doing that. Going with one of those procuring fellows, I mean.’
Amy’s point did not miss the mark. Morgana knew the better course was to convince Lucy and the others to lead moral lives, but, once fallen, could they rise again? Lucy had convinced her she could not.
Morgana watched Amy concentrate on her hair. She set her chin in determination. This was the only chance for Lucy. The only chance for all of the girls to change their lives.
Sloane surveyed the room where the guests to Lady Sed-ford’s musicale loitered in groups, waiting for the latecomers to be announced and the programme to begin. Across the room stood his brother, Lord Rawley, who, without cutting him directly, was at least pretending he had not seen him. David gave him a friendly nod. At least the Earl was not present, although Sloane would have experienced a smug satisfaction if his father had witnessed him mingling successfully with Lady Sedford’s set.
‘Lord and Lady Cowdlin. Lady Hannah. Miss Hart,’ the butler announced.
Sloane turned to watch them enter and greet the host and hostess. Lady Hannah looked as delectable as a dish of cream and strawberries in a white gauzy gown decorated with red ribbon. Her cousin wore a much plainer gown, one done up in gold fabric that nearly matched her eyes and glistened under the candlelight.
Averting his head so as not to be so obviously gaping, Sloane observed Lord and Lady Cowdlin stop to converse with friends. Lady Hannah seized her cousin’s arm and propelled them both forward. Hannah glanced in Sloane’s direction, pretended to glance away, whispered something to her cousin, and led her gracefully across the room, making it appear as if it were mere chance that they came to where he stood.
‘Good evening, Lady Hannah, Miss Hart.’ He bowed.
‘How nice to see you here, Mr Sloane.’ Lady Hannah smiled up at him, showing her white, even teeth. ‘You must sit with us. I insist upon it.’
Miss Hart also smiled, but her smile seemed distant, almost sad.
He turned his attention to Lady Hannah. ‘Nothing would delight me more, my lady, but it might hint at partiality. I would not wish to make you the topic of gossip.’ If Sloane were perceived to favour Lady Hannah to the exclusion of other eligible young ladies, he would be forced to make her an offer. He did not wish to be forced into anything.
A fleeting look of disappointment crossed Lady Hannah’s face. She quickly recovered. ‘I have it. You shall sit next to Morgana and that will seem quite unexceptionable.’
He opened his mouth to reply, but her attention had already flitted away.
‘Oh, look,’ she cried. ‘Here comes your nephew, Mr Sloane. Perhaps he will join us as well.’
When the programme was about to begin, Hannah hurried them all in, and arranged the seating to her satisfaction. At one end sat Lord and Lady Cowdlin, then David, Hannah, Morgana, and Sloane. David made polite conversation with Lady Cowdlin, while Hannah looked about the crowd, waving to friends. Miss Hart studied her programme.
‘Do you enjoy music, Miss Hart?’ Sloane asked her.
She gave him a serious expression. ‘You must not consider yourself obliged to make polite conversation, Mr Sloane.’
His brow furrowed. ‘Are we back to not speaking, Miss Hart?’
Her face relaxed. ‘Oh, no. I did not mean that. Goodness! I must have sounded cross. I am vexed at my cousin, not you. She treats me as if I were a doll to be moved about at whim.’
His lips twitched. He leaned closer to her. ‘Confess, Miss Hart. You merely dislike being told what to do.’
She smiled. ‘You have the right of it, Mr Sloane. It is one of my abiding faults.’
‘Mine as well,’ he admitted. ‘Let us begin again. Do you like music, Miss Hart?’
Her ginger eyes came alive with expression. ‘I do like it excessively, sir.’
‘Do you play?’
She rolled her eyes, very unladylike, but charming none the less. ‘Badly, therefore, never in company, but I do love to bash away for hours on my pianoforte.’
‘Hmm.’ He pretended to study the programme. ‘I wonder how thick the walls are between our houses.’
She laughed softly. When he glanced at her again her eyes sparkled. ‘And you, Mr Sloane, do you play?’
He could not help himself. He gave her a wicked grin. ‘Not music, Miss Hart, but I play at other things very well.’
He watched, fascinated, as her pupils grew larger. Her smile changed from mirthful to inscrutable. Perhaps he’d gone too far. Reverted to his rakish ways. But she did have that effect on him. He averted his gaze.
Morgana looked away as well, resisting the impulse to fan herself. Had he been flirting with her? If so, it felt delightful. Very stimulating. She hoped her cheeks were not as flaming red as they felt.
She was glad Sloane did not dislike sitting next to her, though she still had no doubt he would rather be next to Hannah. Hannah had her head together with the younger Mr Sloane, who was obviously as captivated by her as his uncle.
It did not matter, Morgana assured herself, that Hannah drew the attention of men so easily. She was glad someone distracted Hannah from her chief prey. Morgana needed this opportunity to speak to Sloane. She opened her mouth again, but there was a signal that the music was about to begin.
Lady Sedford had achieved the coup of engaging Camporese for the evening. When the soprano stepped out in front of the musicians, she looked much taller and more slender than she’d appeared on stage at the King’s Theatre, perhaps even as tall as Morgana herself.
Camporese reprised her solos from Penelope, to much applause. Morgana noticed that Hannah attended more to the guests than the music. Her uncle, quite the opposite, dozed, his chin drooping to his chest. Morgana smiled at that and glanced at Sloane, who caught her look and held it a moment before turning his eyes back to the soprano. The contact had been fleeting, but it somehow warmed Morgana all over. She did fan herself this time.
When Camporese finished her part of the programme, the room erupted into applause and shouts of ‘Bravo’ and the soprano gave a deep curtsy. Lady Sedford announced a brief interval and everyone left their seats to mingle. Morgana watched Sloane converse with Hannah and his nephew.
A gentleman and lady approached her. Morgana recognised them as Sloane’s brother and sister-in-law, Lord and Lady Rawley. Her aunt presented her to them.
Lady Rawley gave her an inquisitive look. ‘I see you are acquainted with Cyprian, Miss Hart.’
Remembering that Sloane was estranged from his family, Morgana regarded the woman with some interest. ‘I am, ma’am.’
‘What do you know of him, my dear?’ Lady Rawley’s question was phrased in ominous tones.
Morgana immediately leapt to Sloane’s defence, though the notion he would need her protection was ludicrous. ‘He is often in the company of my aunt’s family. He is acceptable to them, and that is all I need know.’
Lady Rawley leaned in closer. ‘My husband says there is more to it, Miss Hart. Cyprian has the most shocking reputation. I implore you to beware of it and inform your cousin before she makes a terrible mistake.’
Morgana’s indignation caught fire. How dare this woman presume to spread tales of Sloane to someone she had met not one minute before? She would not stand for it!
She favoured Lady Rawley with her most innocent look. ‘I fear Lady Hannah will demand the details before giving any credence to my words. Would you please tell me exactly what Mr Sloane had done to earn his shocking reputation?’
‘Why… why he is a womaniser, for one thing,’ the lady responded.
‘Indeed?’ Morgana feigned interest. ‘With whom has he been linked? I am sure my cousin will wish to hear names.’
‘I do not precisely know,’ admitted Lady Rawley. ‘But I have it on good authority—’
‘Oh, Hannah will not credit that at all, I’m afraid.’ Morgana feigned being thoughtful. ‘But I suspect there are many gentlemen who claim success with the ladies. That would not be enough to concern Hannah. What else has Mr Sloane done?’
‘I do not know, but it was very bad,’ Lady Rawley said with spirit. ‘Something during the war, I think.’
Morgana pretended to consider this. ‘I believe I must inform my uncle of this shocking information. He is responsible for Hannah, you know.’
‘I am sure your uncle knows,’ admitted the lady. ‘Everyone knows.’
Morgana smiled. ‘Then it must be a mere hum, because Mr Sloane is invited everywhere. He even has vouchers for Almack’s.’ She acted as if she were just struck by a thought. ‘I suppose I could alert Lady Sefton or Lady Castlereagh. I shall tell them you have informed me.’
Lady Rawley paled. ‘No, no, do not do that. I would not trouble them. I am sure if Cyprian has vouchers, it must be quite all right.’
‘Yes.’ Morgana nodded firmly. ‘I am certain such rumours are none of our affair.’
The guests began returning to their seats for the second half of the programme, and Morgana had an excuse to escape Lady Rawley.
When she again took her seat next to Sloane, he said, ‘I see you met Lord and Lady Rawley.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said brightly. ‘Charming woman. She could not say enough about you.’
He laughed, that deep sound that seemed to resonate inside her like the bass notes of the music. ‘I hope you defended my honour, Miss Hart.’
She looked him directly in the eyes. ‘I did.’
Hannah leaned over her to ask Sloane something about the music. Soon the second half commenced, several selections from Haydn, guaranteed to please everyone.
It was not until the supper after the performance that Morgana found an opportunity to speak with Sloane again. He had not remained with their party for the meal, but joined some others, to Hannah’s complete dismay. Morgana noticed him walk over to the buffet table to fill his plate and so joined him.
‘May I assist you, Miss Hart?’ he asked politely.
‘How kind of you.’ She seized this chance, keeping her tone casual. ‘I have been meaning to ask you, Mr Sloane. There is a service you might do for me, if you would be so good.’
He cast her a suspicious look. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing of consequence,’ she assured him. ‘I wish to contact Harriette Wilson, and I wondered if you might give me her direction so that I might pen her a letter.’
‘Harriette Wilson?’ His voice barely managed to remain a whisper. He moved closer to her and put a small round potato on her plate. ‘Why the devil do you want to correspond with her?’
‘Oh,’ she said lightly, ‘that need not concern you. I only need to discover where she resides, and because you are acquainted with her, I thought you would help me.’
‘What are you up to, Miss Hart? Does this have anything to do with that infernal glove shop?’ he asked in a fierce whisper.
‘No,’ she said, pointing to a small sausage, and again not entirely telling the truth. ‘I wish you might forget that episode.’
‘And the scrap in the park? And what else? I do not need to be involved in your schemes, Miss Hart.’ He pointed to a parsnip and she shook her head.
‘Then I am sorry I troubled you. I thank you for providing my meal.’ She reached for the plate.
He did not let go. ‘I will carry it for you.’
They walked across the room, both with stiff expressions on their faces. When Hannah spied Sloane, she insisted he join them, sitting him next to her, of course. He looked distracted and annoyed, even as he listened to Hannah’s chatter.
