Sorrow squeezed her heart. How could Hadleigh think such a thing? She did not know his past, and it did not matter. Because she knew him. Knew that he was honorable and good, worthy of the best life had to offer.
Impulsively, she leaned down and kissed his lean cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Hadleigh,” she whispered. “You are deserving of all good things. May your dreams be sweet.”
He mumbled something, his features relaxing.
She doused the lamps and closed the door softly behind her.
Present Day
The afternoon after the masquerade, Livy and her friends entered Charlie’s drawing room. Charlie rose from the chaise longue in a sweep of cerulean moire silk.
Smiling, she said, “Welcome, Willflowers. Do you have something for me?”
Opening her reticule, Livy removed the small leather-bound journal and brought it over to Charlie. “Miss Jardine’s diary.”
Taking it, Charlie waved them to the seats around the coffee table. She sat as well, flipping through the journal before putting it aside.
“Splendid work,” Charlie said warmly. “I shall return this to its rightful owner, who I know will be most grateful. You have saved her from Edgecombe and his nasty plan and allowed her to move onto her future. She is in love, you see, and could not in good conscience accept her gentleman’s offer until she was free of the blackmailer.”
The thought of love and marriage was more than Livy could bear. After Hadleigh had smashed her heart into smithereens last eve, she wanted nothing to do with either. She was done with Hadleigh. Done with chasing after him. Done with him patronizing her and treating her like an infantile idiot. If he did not want her, then she had better things to do with her time.
Helping others seemed like a good place to start.
On either side of her, Fi and Glory watched her with concern. Her bosom chums knew her state of affairs: they had comforted her in the retiring room at the masquerade while she’d wept over the shards of her dreams. They had suggested canceling their appointment with Charlie until Livy was in better spirits, but Livy had insisted on coming today.
She shoved aside thoughts of her ill-fated love and addressed Charlie.
“It was our pleasure and duty to help,” she said resolutely. “Now that we have done our part, we wish to learn more about membership in the Society of Angels.”
A smile touched Charlie’s lips before she spoke.
“The Society of Angels is an agency that offers investigative services to female clientele,” Charlie said in business-like tones. “It is an organization run by women for women, the first of its kind in London.”
Livy tilted her head, absorbing this new information. Given that sleuthing was a profession that ran in her family, she did not find Charlie’s proposition as outlandish as other young ladies might. In truth, the notion of investigating sounded intriguing…and like the perfect remedy for a broken heart.
“I started this organization because the needs of women are not well served by agencies run by men,” Charlie continued. “The concerns of female clients are often not taken seriously, the clients themselves labelled as ‘silly’ or ‘hysterical.’ And if the cause of a woman’s travails happens to be a man in power? Well, you can guess the outcome.”
Charlie’s words had a razor-sharp edge.
“Do you speak from personal experience?” Livy asked.
Charlie acknowledged her question with a nod. “I was once a young woman in need of assistance. I had the resources to afford the very best. Time after time, I was let down—if not swindled outright—by the male investigators I hired. Some even tried to take advantage in other ways until I dissuaded them.”
Livy’s nape tingled at the flinty look in Charlie’s eyes. The lady reminded her of a bumblebee: golden elegance that housed a deadly stinger.
“In the end, I took matters into my own hands. I acquired the necessary skills to conduct my own inquiries and decided to use those skills to benefit other women in need. I have assisted ladies who had lost all hope of finding answers, helping them when no one else would.”
“Jolly good!” Approval shone in Glory’s hazel gaze.
“The Society generates a handsome profit, but no woman is turned away because of financial hardship. I ask my clients to pay what they can afford,” Charlie said. “For instance, I assisted a dowager duchess by uncovering her nephew’s plot to lock her in an asylum and steal her wealth. She expressed her gratitude through a donation that covers the costs for women like Marie Jardine.
“The demand has become such that it exceeds what I am able to do alone. I have agents—genteel spinsters, widows, and working-class women—who assist me, but I realized that I have another goal: to pass on my knowledge and legacy to a new generation of young ladies.”
“Like a finishing school for female investigators,” Livy breathed.
“Exactly. I want to teach exceptional young women to become the best that they can be, mentally and physically.” Charlie leaned forward. “Society uses the label of the ‘weaker sex’ to keep us from recognizing our true strength. I was once like you: a sheltered miss who was taught from birth how to be a lady. My worth was measured by my ability to make a good match. When it came to courtship, my looks and fortune were seen as my main merits. My spirit was deemed an inconvenience, my intelligence an even bigger flaw.”
“But you did make a good match.” Fiona tipped her head, her red curls swinging to one side. “You married the Marquess of Fayne.”
“Which is how I learned that entrusting one’s happiness to anyone but oneself is a mistake.” Charlie’s words were matter-of-fact. “Learn from me: independence, not love, is the key to happiness. Never give up who you are. For anyone or anything. And that is my ultimate goal for my Angels: to give them the ability to choose their own destiny.”
For Livy, the words resonated like a church bell. After all, she had invested
