Part Thirty Seven

She put her fingers to good use, pretending it was for her mother. Looking up and smiling at Harriet every now and then made it look genuine. But her heart didn’t play for her mother, it played for him; for them. Liam and Becca both. Her heart was bouncing around in her chest. Was that normal? She’d never had a man drag her behind shrubberies before. And oh, the way he’d held her…

She hit a sour note.  Cringing, she glanced at her mother.

“You need to practice more,” Harriet said, picking her book back up and burying her nose in dismissal.

Molly no longer had her mother for an audience.

One slip and she was unworthy of being heard. She took a deep breath, and played again. This time she imagined Liam and Becca right there with her, appreciating her music, occasional sour note and all. 

The door to the parlor opened and the butler walked in. Molly kept playing lest she draw the wrong kind of attention from Harriet. She would have to pretend she wasn’t insanely devoted to Liam. Who knew what might happen otherwise. Harriet might decide to ship her back home at a moment’s notice before she could send word to him about it. 

And then, she realized that her mother was standing over her. Molly’s fingers froze on the keys. “Yes ma’am?” she asked.

“Is this why you were pacing earlier?”

“This?”

Harriet lowered her voice. “Mr. Daltrey is in the foyer.”

“He is?” Molly’s voice squeaked. She needed to get a hold of herself. “I do hope nothing is wrong with Becca.”

“Is he here to speak with me about you?”

“Whatever for?”

Harriet’s brows narrowed. “Don’t do this with me.”

“It’s about Mr. Hilton. I did not wish to alarm you, but I had another altercation with him.”

“What happened?” Harriet’s tone of voice told Molly that she had already blamed the entire situation on her.

Molly glanced at the parlor door. She needed backup, because her mother would never believe her without an eyewitness. “Perhaps you should allow Mr. Daltrey to tell you. He’s an investigator, after all.”

Harriet rubbed her temples. “Very well.” Turning, she went to the door and told the butler to allow Liam to enter. Molly stood from her piano forte, smoothing her hands over her cream gown and feeling to make sure her curls were in place. As much as she wanted to see him, she was anxious about having her mother and Liam in the same room together.

The butler opened the door and ushered him inside. Hyper-aware, Molly could smell him even from across the room. Her face warmed as she relived their moment behind the bushes in Hyde Park.

“Mr. Daltrey.” Harriet gestured to a settee. “Should I call for tea?”

“No.” He glanced at Molly. “Are you well, Miss Taylor?”

She ducked her head in greeting. “Yes, very much.” Now that he was there in the room, she was suddenly very well. Too bad her mother was also present. But this had to be done.

Her mother sat, clearing her throat. Molly forced herself to take her place next to her.

Liam sat across from them, eyes tightening as if he really would rather not be doing this at all. She couldn’t blame him. Molly would much rather be all alone with him.

“This is not the easiest topic in which to discuss with you, Mrs. Taylor,” he said. “But it must be done. Since you’re new to London, I am going to assume you are unaware of the reputations of some of the bachelors. Several of them are not the best of company for young ladies.”

Harriet folded her hands in her lap, her profile to him now. Molly recognized her mother’s battle face. “And just how do you define unfit, Mr. Daltrey?”

Part Thirty-Nine