Lord Watt nodded. “That is a wise idea,” he said, as Bridgette opened her mouth to protest, not wanting to wait for a moment before involving herself. “And it will give you an opportunity to recover yourself a little more, Lady Callander.”
Closing her mouth tightly, Bridgette tried her best to react graciously, even though that was not at all what she wanted to say.
“I thank you,” she said, glancing back at Lord Millerton a little anxiously. “Although you will keep me informed of what occurs?”
“Of course,” Lord Millerton confirmed, with a stern nod of his head. “And you must ensure that your doors and windows are tightly secured each evening, Lady Callander.” His expression was firm, sparking a sudden sense of unease deep within her soul. “Whilst I removed you from the scene very quickly indeed, we cannot know if the perpetrator was still watching.”
“Indeed,” she whispered, suddenly a little afraid. “I quite understand, Lord Millerton.”
“Very good,” Lady Watt said, rising to her feet. “Now, Lady Callander, you must return tomorrow to take tea with me. I insist upon it.”
Bridgette rose also, accepting Lady Watt’s arm.
“Come and we shall take a turn about the house so that you can restore your strength a little more before it is time for you to depart,” Lady Watt continued, practically. “Your color is a little better, at least.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Bridgette replied, still feeling a little wobbly as she walked with Lady Watt. “I confess I am still a little overcome.” She let out a slightly shaky laugh. “Even though I saw a good deal last Season, I appear not to have any mettle at all.”
“You have more than enough mettle,” Lady Watt replied, firmly, patting her hand. “Now, come along and let us talk about something different, so that your mind is removed from what you have seen.”
Bridgette allowed Lady Watt to lead her along, listening to her speak about something entirely banal and feeling her heart settle a little more. It had been a horrendous thing that had occurred but here, secure in the knowledge that the League would do all they could to help and quite certain that, in the end, they would be able to find out the truth in its entirety. She could not live with anything other than that.
Chapter Six
“Madame Bereford.”
Sebastian bowed low, Lord Hearst by his side.
“Good evening, my lords.” It was as if she emerged out of the shadows, wrapped in a deep red satin gown and shawl. Her white blonde hair gave her an ethereal appearance, tied up at the back of her head with gentle curls tumbling down around her ears. She had slanted dark blue eyes and a gentle twist to her lips that could either be a gentle moue or an angry pursing of the lips. “Is this your first time here?”
Lord Hearst cleared his throat. “We do not come in search of pleasure this evening, Madame Bereford.”
She did not move and her expression did not change, save for a small arching of her brow which Sebastian thought spoke of a flicker of curiosity.
“Then you are not interested in any of my ladies?” she asked, a small purr to her voice. “How very strange.” Her eyes glittered. “I have even had some new ladies come from the ship ‘The Rose’ this very afternoon.” Her lips twisted and Sebastian could not quite make out whether or not she was laughing at him. “Can you not find even a flicker of interest now?”
Sebastian put both hands behind his back, smelling something sweet and yet a little smoky at the same time. It caught at the back of his throat, making him cough a little. Madame Bereford only smiled, her eyes fixed to his.
“We do intend to recompense you for your time, Madame,” he said, his throat still a little tight. “Might you be willing to speak to us for a moment?”
She considered this for a moment or two, making Sebastian and Lord Hearst remain quite silent as they waited, feeling as though they were on the edge of a precipice, waiting for her to reach out to them.
Eventually, Madame Bereford sat down quietly, her skirts swishing gently as she gestured for them to seat themselves also. Relieved, Sebastian sat down quickly, as did Lord Hearst. There was still a sense of awkward tension growing in the room, like a dark cloud spreading out above their heads. Sebastian held his breath as the lady arched one eyebrow at him, looking from Lord Hearst to him and back again.
“What is it that you wish to ask of me?” she said, a little tartly. “If it is to sell you one of my ladies, then I can assure you that I have no intention of doing any such thing.”
Shaking his head quickly, Sebastian let out a long breath. “No, indeed not,” he said, emphatically. “I have no intention of asking such a thing. Rather —” he exchanged a glance with Lord Hearst, “we seek information.”
Madame Bereford narrowed her eyes. “Information?” Her tone changed in an instant, now lower and holding a pinch of anger. “I do not sell information, about either my ladies or my clients.”
“An admirable position, of course,” Sebastian said, quickly, “but would you hold such a position if the person in question was deceased?”
“Could we not tempt you then?” Lord Hearst added, a trifle too breezily for Sebastian’s liking. “After all, there is nothing that need worry you, given that the fellow is quite gone.”
Madame Bereford kept her narrowed gaze fixed to Lord Hearst, who, after a few moments, dropped his own eyes to the floor, clearly somewhat discomfited by her eagle-like stare. Sebastian kept his own counsel, wisely choosing to remain quiet until Madame Bereford decided to speak.
“I would know the name of this gentleman,” she eventually said, turning her eyes to Sebastian rather than continuing to watch the now cowed Lord Hearst. “And I will not promise to say even a single word about him as yet.”
“But of course,” Sebastian said, easily. “It is a Lord Hazelton.” He watched the lady closely, looking for any sign of recognition. “Do you recall him?”