“So, now you know the truth? Or was Lord Harkom nothing but hot air?”
A tear forced its way out of Faith’s eye as she put her hand to her bodice. “It wasn’t what I wanted to be the truth, but I do have the incriminating letters—and Lord Harkom doesn’t. That’s the main thing.” A spasm of fear made her reassess as she turned towards the door. “Please don’t ask me about it now, Charity. Look, I really should go. I can’t subject you to danger. Where is Miss Eaves tonight? She said she was going somewhere. Perhaps she can help me.”
“Miss Eaves!” Charity scoffed, calling after her friend as Faith ran to the door, “Come back, Faith. I’m perfectly safe. You know Madame Chambon guards us like a wolfhound, and the only reason Anastasia got hurt was because Madame thought she needed teaching a lesson. Please tell me why you want to seek out Miss Eaves? She’s no friend of yours. Unless you want her to print the letter you found!”
“Dear God,
only one of them.” Faith swung around, her jaw set. “I’ll never breathe a word about the other letter, and so I’m not even going to tell you what was in it. But Charity, when Anastasia got hurt, didn’t she leave shortly afterwards?”
Charity nodded.
“Do you know where she went?”
“No, I don’t, Faith. She moved on to another life. That’s how it is with girls like us. No need to look so concerned.”
“She left with Lady Vernon, didn’t she?”
“I don’t remember exactly—”
“Please try.” Faith gripped Charity by both forearms and looked into her friend’s eyes. “Try and remember who took Anastasia away.”
Charity looked puzzled, and then a look of understanding crept over her face.
“Yes, I don’t have time to tell you more, Charity, but this is the reason I need to find Miss Eaves. She might not be the one who can reveal this to the world, and although she’s been no friend of mine, she does have connections, both in the newspaper world and in society. And it’s because of her belief that she really was telling a truth the world needed to know, that she printed what she did about me, that I think she’s the person most likely to help me now.”
“But Faith, you don’t even know where she lives!”
“No, but I do know where she’ll be tonight.” Faith turned and hurried back, a thought occurring to her. “Charity, I need your masque. The one on a stick. Indeed, it’s fortuitous that Miss Eaves will be attending Lady Ridgeway’s Masquerade. I’m sure she’d not want to talk to me unless we were in disguise.”
Chapter 28
Crispin didn’t care that he was damp with evening mist by the time he’d walked to Madame Chambon’s. He needed a bracing walk to clear his head, and he wasn’t going anywhere afterwards. Not after he’d located Faith. What he’d say to her, he wasn’t sure.
And how she’d react to seeing him after all this time, he had no idea.
Would she consider he’d let her down? He hadn’t found her in a whole year though it wasn’t for want of trying.
Was there any truth in Lord Harkom’s claim, earlier, about what he’d done to Faith?
Not with Faith.
He truly couldn’t believe that, and not after Charity’s claims that Faith had gone to see him because of her concerns over Crispin.
Which meant that Faith had read the claims espoused by Harkom? Were they indeed written down as allegations? Could there be any truth in them?
His throat felt dry, and his head was sore. The street lamps looked hazy like his surroundings. Was his father’s coldness predicated upon the fact that Crispin was not his natural-born son? Could he have suspected that he’d had someone else’s bastard foisted on him?
By an innkeeper’s daughter?
Crispin swallowed. No, this was Harkom’s way of extracting the maximum from the situation. It couldn’t be true.
By the time he reached Madame Chambon’s, his outerwear was slick with wet, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to find Faith and sink into her arms. If she could forgive him, it didn’t matter if Harkom’s allegations were true or not.
Of course, if Harkom’s allegations were given credence, then that was a different matter. But he didn’t want to go there yet. He just wanted Faith.
“Oh, Mr Westaway; you just missed her.” Charity was lying on her front on her bed, when Crispin entered after knocking briefly and being invited in. She rose onto her knees, her face a picture of delight as her silk peignoir fell away revealing the mounds of her full white breasts over the top of her corset. “I’m so glad it’s you though,” she added, as she covered herself. “I mean, that because it’s you, you don’t want any of my pleasuring.” She blushed, and Crispin could see the flare of colour was real. He was sure he blushed too, as she went on, “I mean, it would be so wrong to be pleasuring the young man whom my best friend is in love with.”
Crispin felt a stab in his chest cavity and tried to ignore the words that resounded in his head…the young man whom my best friend is in love with. Could that really be true? “Please, Charity, I don’t think I have much time and I need to find her!”