“Tea was fine.” Filling the empty silence was easier than contemplating her own envy at Jane’s hard-fought independence. “Lady Bonklesford likes a lot of sugar in her tea, but of course they own several sugar plantations in the west so they source it directly.”

  Jane slammed her fist on the table. “And how do you feel about sugar plantations?”

  “It’s terrible. I take my tea with honey.” Hyacinth hadn’t been able to influence Lord Walfingham to join Wilberforce’s abolition movement. He hadn’t cared for politics for the simple reason that the status quo suited him perfectly and he didn’t see the need to care for a change to that. “My father contemplated adding cotton to our factories, but my sister Elspeth convinced him not to because of the way it is produced. Linen is more ethical as the primary producers are free workers in Ireland.”

  Jane cleared her throat. “You’ve mentioned your father before, but not the specifics.”

  “My father owns several linen factories in Manchester.”

  “Several? If that’s true, he hardly needed to marry you off to an Earl.”

  “It’s not that simple. Yes, Father wanted the connection to the peerage for commercial reasons, but I had a choice. I didn’t have to pick Lord Walfingham.”

  “You could’ve picked a different Lord?” Jane sounded sceptical, which reflected how Hyacinth felt now, but back when she’d been younger it’d been different. It had been good for her confidence to be courted by Lord Walfingham and he had charmed her at first, until it was too late.

  “Yes. It just so happens that I made the wrong choice.” It wasn’t a choice she’d recommend to any young women. It’d been a deeply unpleasant experience for herself, although she did know some women who’d been fortunate enough to find a Lord of good character. Hyacinth wanted to hold Jane’s hand, not to comfort Jane, but to comfort herself that perhaps she had a chance at finding happiness with someone. She shook off the yearning; it was far too presumptuous to think like that. It was less than a week since their first kiss.

  “What other choices did you have?” Jane managed to get the point; Hyacinth hadn’t thought beyond getting married. It was what her father had wanted—more sons—and what finishing school taught her she ought to be doing.

  “I suppose I could’ve helped in the family business. Two of my sisters do that.”

  “But you would’ve needed to learn about business.”

  Hyacinth smiled. “Oh, Father already taught us the basics.”

  “I’ve heard that’s very unusual for your class.” For the first time in a week, Jane paid Hyacinth some attention outside of their kisses and she tried not to crave it terribly badly.

  “Yes and no. I’m one of seven sisters, and I’m sure I’ve said before that it is my father’s opinion that this was an opportunity to bring seven men into his business affairs.”

  “I remember but it’s hard to comprehend.”

  Hyacinth tilted her head and hummed softly. “My mother died when I was young, and my father’s only topic of conversation is his work, so naturally we all learned how to deal with business problems as he outlined them around the dinner table.”

  “Seven sisters!”

  She wasn’t sure why Jane sounded so surprised, recalling how Jane had a sister and a brother and had mentioned that it was complicated. She gulped. Perhaps in that context, seven was rather a lot.

  “Yes, it can sometimes feel like too many, but most of us are grown now and have our own families.” She would forever be grateful that she hadn’t the ability to have children as a son would’ve prevented her from quietly distancing herself from her husband’s family and expectations. She would’ve been the dowager Lady Walfingham, forever tied to ensuring that her son fulfilled his duties. Now the title had gone to her husband’s brother, and she was removed from that cycle. Essentially useless to them. She shook out her hands. She wasn’t useless to Jane, having learned something at tea this afternoon.

  “Lady Bonklesford did say one interesting thing at tea.” Hyacinth’s entire reason for this conversation was to relay this moment.

  “About?”

  Hyacinth’s leg jiggled. “She said she’d been offered several sets of Waterloo Teeth. Her own teeth are dreadful.”

  “It’s all that sugar. Serves her right.”

  Hyacinth agreed vehemently. “Yes. It’s not enough of a punishment for owning slaves...”

  “No. She needs a much greater punishment.”

  “About the Waterloo Teeth, Lady Bonklesford said she’d rejected them all because she wasn’t certain of the providence of the teeth and there was no way she would wear teeth grown in the mouths of the degenerates of society. Her words, not mine.” Hyacinth rushed through the last part, scrambling to make sure Jane understood the source of Lady Bonklesford’s disdain.

  “Oh she’s a silly fool if she only wants the teeth of her peers,” Jane said. “I sell these sets to the peerage because their teeth are rotted by overindulgence. The teeth of the poor are in better shape as they cannot afford sugar.”

  “Snobbery isn’t logical.”

  Jane tapped her little wirecutter on the table, then after a long time, she stopped. “Would she accept the teeth of an officer?”

  Warmth grew like a sweet pea from the middle of her chest, curling up and around. How clever of Jane to think of that. “Since most officers are younger sons from the best families, yes. Yes, I imagine that would suffice.”

  “If I sold her a set of teeth sourced only from young officers, I could triple my price.” Jane whispered cautiously as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her plans.

  Hyacinth breathed in deeply. This was the piece of the puzzle she’d been missing. “Yes. This is the answer to your problems. I could write out guarantees that mention the provenance of the teeth, and this will increase their value among the most snobbish elite.”

  Jane picked up a pen and scribbled some numbers on a piece of paper. “If this works and I sell my current supply for triple the value, I’ll get to my goal with the current cartoon of teeth Steve sent and any issues with further supply will be irrelevant.”

  A rifle shot went off as a bunch of soldiers sang drunkenly in the street outside, as if to prove their point. It’d been nearly a month since the end of the war and soldiers still celebrated; although Hyacinth had begun to believe that it was merely an excuse to drink and rebel rouse now that they had nothing to occupy their time. There wasn’t much work for those who’d returned from the Peninsular and soon it would be a new problem for the city.

  “Could you do it?” Jane asked.

  “Do what?” Sometimes she wondered if long term laudanum use had addled her brains as she’d forgotten what they were talking about.

  “Write a story that is believable?” Jane asked. Oh, yes, the provenance documents for the teeth.

  “Yes.” Hyacinth had seen many provenance documents for artworks and the like, and her penmanship was excellent. It would be a good challenge for her skills, a way to feel useful. She glanced over at Jane, whose fingers were so tight around her pen that her knuckles were pulled taut.

  “What is the problem?”

  “It would have to be completely foolproof. No one likes punishing the poor more than the rich, and they would not be pleased if they discovered their certificates of providence were ... a stretch of the truth.”

  The swirl of excitement in Hyacinth’s torso instantly changed into a churn. “As usual, you make an excellent point. We will have to be careful in the wording on the certificate to guard against that in the future.”

  Jane placed her pen back into the ink well and breathed in deeply. “You wanted to help my business. This is your chance.”

  Hyacinth felt the weight of responsibility and yearned to show that she was worth Jane’s belief in her. “I will write up several drafts and then we can, no not we, you. You can decide on the best version.”

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “This conversation must never leave this room. You cannot ask for advice. There is too much risk if we are discovered.”

  Hyacinth nodded solemnly. “I suppose this is akin to fraud?”

  Chapter 10

  Jane gritted her teeth. Akin to fraud? No, this absolutely was fraud. She had no evidence for where Steve acquired these teeth, only his word for it that they came from dead soldiers. She believed him because they’d been as close as siblings since they’d both been dumped at the Duke Street Orphanage and named after that year’s sponsor, Lord Bonklesford. Poor little Jane Bonklesford of no known parentage. She could hear the courts already. How dare she falsify a document to get more money from the rich? A little moral qualm came and went.

  No, she was only getting a decent living wage for her labours and hopefully a farm house for her brother who would struggle to get work like every other injured returned soldier. Society had thrown them both away and she wasn’t beyond a little bending of the truth to get more money from the people who could easily afford it. They wouldn’t even notice the loss. Was it a victimless crime to convince the rich to spend more than something was worth? Or just excellent sales strategy?

  “I will keep my mouth shut and my fingers busy, and I will burn every draft so there is never any evidence that I practiced first.” Hyacinth looked so damned kissable when she stared at Jane with that longing expression.

  “If this doesn’t work, it’s no loss provided we aren’t caught. There is a strong enough market for Waterloo Teeth that I can still sell them at the old price if need be.” Jane gasped. She couldn’t do this; she already had client orders for all the sets she had to hand.

  “What is the problem?”

  “I can’t do this. I’ve already promised these teeth at a set price to customers.”

  Hyacinth shook her head. “If we are prepared to fudge the truth on their provenance, then let’s go all in.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I will write to all your current customers and say that we have a new special order for them. We have a limited number of sets of teeth sourced from healthy young officers, members of the best families, who naturally have the best quality teeth, and perhaps they would like to upgrade their original order.”

  Jane let herself smile as her breath evened out. “Genuis. If we are going to do this, we may as well risk everything.”

  “And if it doesn’t work, at least we can say that we tried.”

  Jane wanted to growl. “Trying is not enough. We must cover our tracks. It is not enough to write a document of...” Whatever it was. She didn’t want to hang or be transported.

  “Provenance or authenticity.”

  “That. No, we need to have all the evidence that goes along with this. I need you to figure out what that should be and create convincing documents.” Jane pressed her lips together.

  “I can do that. My upbringing has prepared me for exactly this type of work.”

  “Gaining an advantage from your peers?” Jane couldn’t let herself trust Hyacinth, or this.

  “Who better than one of their own? I have a good understanding of what they want and what will appeal to them.”

  “And no understanding of how much they will punish us if we are caught.”

  Hyacinth shrugged. The casual gesture only reinforced Jane’s caution. “Then we won’t get caught.”

  Jane hummed low in the back of her throat. If she didn’t need the money—if Steve didn’t need the help—she’d never be tempted into taking this risk. It was safer to carry as she was—she’d get to her goal slower—provided she could get more teeth. Goddamn it.

  “Or we could leave a small clue that Lord Walfingham was the mastermind behind it. He was always in debt, so it would be believable, and he’s both dead and a peer, so can’t be tried on either account.”

  “And us?” They would still be punished as his servants in the matter.

  “How could we possibly understand what he intended to do? We are mere women. Our brains are not capable of such a scheme.”

  Jane blinked. “You would let them believe that?”

  “To save us? Absolutely.”

  Maybe she could let herself dream that they could make this work. “How would you leave a small clue? It can’t be obvious.”

  “Obviously.” Hyacinth winked and a cold chill raced over the back of Jane’s neck. “I’ll use paper from the same supplier that he uses. I’ll have to get it directly from them, as the paper he used had his watermark on it.”

  “Not exactly an unsubtle clue.”

  “No.” Hyacinth tapped her fingers on her thigh for a moment. “The other clue is that I have been asking my peers about teeth. And it’s not the first time. Lord Walfingham’s mother has a set that are poorly fitted. They often fall out when she talks.”

  “Too many sets are too wide for people’s mouths. I make three standard sizes, but customers often want the largest ones whether they fit or not.” Jane rolled her eyes.

  “Discretion is not part of the wealthy’s vocabulary.”

  “No. It is not.”

  Hyacinth grinned. “I’ve accidentally laid the groundwork for this.”

  “Accidentally?”

  “Yes. I told people I was asking about teeth on behalf of my mother-in-law who wanted a better set, and now it looks like—”

  Jane shuddered. “It’s not going to work. It looks like you are taking over your husband’s work. The suspicion won’t go on him. It’ll go on you, and then people will blame the Soho Club. You can’t connect it to him at all.”

  “But—”

  “No. You must never mention teeth again with your peers. Your mother-in-law now has a pair so it’s slipped your mind, never to pass your lips again.” Jane aimed for stern, but the way Hyacinth’s lips parted softly sent a lick of heat up her spine.

  “You are right. I will source the paper from elsewhere. There will be no connection to me or my dead husband’s name, or to the Soho Club, or to you. No clues.”

  Jane nodded slowly. “If you can achieve that, we might just pull this off.” She couldn’t trust Hyacinth to do this—her class didn’t help people like Jane—but she might just make enough money that she could disappear before she got caught. Until then, she was going to enjoy the pleasure Hyacinth offered, so she walked towards her and pulled her close for a kiss. The trick, like anything, was knowing when to stop.

  Chapter 11

  Hyacinth knew that being kissed by Jane meant that she’d done well. Warmth mixed with the sensual heat of the kiss, swirling like naked flames sizzling on wet wood. She wanted to please her, and not just in bed. She wanted to be more than a temporary lover for Jane, more than a helper in her business. If her brother could do it—live with a man and be in love, with all the risks of the sodomy laws—then she could dream of something similar too. Perhaps she’d always been a romantic. She sighed into the kiss. Her family’s background in trade would prove to be helpful and she should be planning, but the kiss was too sweet, too hot, and nothing else mattered. She wrapped her arms around Jane’s waist.

  “Jane.” Her desperate whisper was lost to the kiss, a mumble against Jane’s tongue, disappearing into the lashing and flicking of heat up her spine and into her core. From this kiss, she was soaking wet, ready for more touches by Jane’s amazing fingers. She swept her own hands up over Jane’s waist to cup her petite breasts, hidden away under the heavy wool of her ordinary gown.

  “Yes?”

  “More please.” She couldn’t articulate the way she needed more time with Jane like this; to make up for all those years lost to her horrible marriage, as if a few kisses could wipe her slate clean and allow her to start again. She pushed Jane away with a gasp. It wasn’t fair—or romantic—to expect Jane to do that for her. She’d already been her nurse, healing her from addiction and pain. Jane couldn’t be burdened with healing her brokenness too.

  “Hyacinth?”

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can do this.”

  Jane glanced sideways at her. “Do what?”

  “This. Kissing and—” Hyacinth gulped. “I’ll do the provenance documents, but this intimacy isn’t right.”

  “Oh?” Jane frowned, a deep furrow between her brows.

  “I’m recovering from a bad marriage and laudanum, and I don’t want this to be a replacement for those.”

  “What are you saying?” Jane seemed to shrink before her, like she was trying to fold in on herself.

  “I don’t think it’s fair on you for me to expect you to heal me and replace my past.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps I’m the one who should make that decision. You can’t change your past, but you can move forward.”

  “But what if I’m just leaping to the next thing without thought?”

  Jane sighed. “I knew I couldn’t trust someone like you. You’ve just used me as a toy and now you are going to go back to your own class where you belong.”

  Hyacinth’s stomach sank. No, that wasn’t what she meant at all. Jane had it all twisted and wrong, except it was true that Hyacinth worried she was taking advantage of Jane. “I don’t belong anywhere. And yes, it’s not fair for me to kiss you while I work out where I do belong.”

  “Just leave then.” Jane turned away and sat at her desk. The dismissal was what Hyacinth deserved, so she left her own room and walked out through the club, unsure of where to go now.

  It was almost dark when Hyacinth walked through the door of The Delicate Owl a few hours later and sunk heavily onto a chair. She hadn’t known where else to go and her feet had slowly taken her to her sister’s tavern. Thankfully the long summer days were light until late at night and she’d been safe enough walking alone on busy streets. The noise and vibrancy of the city with people everywhere only exacerbated the emptiness inside. Who was she without laudanum, without her husband, without a purpose? It wasn’t fair to expect Jane to answer those questions for her.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7