Company Of Rogues: A Shocking Delight Part 19

She accompanied her friend to the shops for some last-minute items, then in the afternoon dined with the Hanways, finding the old-fashioned mealtime odd after dining in the evening. The talk was all of the wedding and Lucy couldn't help noting the changes it would bring. Betty's bedroom was to become a boudoir for her mother. Did Charlotte Johnson already have plans for her own bedroom?

As evening settled she had to return home. She used the knocker again, but this time the footman opened it.

Her father came out of the library, smiling. "Welcome home, Lucy. I've missed you."

Lucy went into his open arms, loving to be back, but heartsore as well. At this moment, everything about her home seemed the same, but it wasn't. She even felt it would be an intrusion to go into the library behind him. He drew her in there, however, and they sat in their usual chairs, one on either side of the empty hearth.

Did Charlotte sit in this chair at times?

Her mother's portrait was unshrouded. She'd wanted that, but had it been at Charlotte's prompting?

"Now, pet, tell me all your tonnish adventures."

He'd called her "pet" from the cradle.

Only now did it grate.

She cheerfully related b.a.l.l.s, the theater, and Almack's, then couldn't resist a mention of Wyvern.

"A few people did murmur about mother and scandal, but then the infamous Earl of Wyvern arrived and quite turned everyone's heads."

"Wyvern? Ah, the one with the very dubious claim to the t.i.tle."

"I'm surprised you've followed ton gossip, Papa."

"I keep an eye on all significant events, pet, and it's often hard to know what's significant until too late. Such a furor caught my attention. What sort of man is he? Young, I gather."

Lucy hadn't expected to have to discuss Wyvern at length.

"Young, but not callow." She took a moment to consider and then told him about the duel.

"That was well done of him," her father declared. "What wretches to risk your reputation so."

"They were both apologetic in their own way, Papa."

"If anything else like that happens, I'll have something to say."

"Please don't interfere."

"Not watch over my daughter's reputation?"

"I mean, I'm sure nothing like that will happen again."

"So he ripped a stripe off two n.o.blemen, did he? I wonder how he came by a commanding air?"

"Couldn't it simply be his nature?" Lucy asked, wishing she hadn't exposed Wyvern to her father's keen scrutiny. "You came from lowly beginnings, but command your life."

"Fair enough, fair enough, but I'd have thought he'd be a fish out of water among the ton."

"So did I, but he seems to have a wide acquaintance, some of the highest rank."

"Born a b.a.s.t.a.r.d and thought to be son of a tavern keeper?" Her father had come alert.

"His mother was a lady, and his sister's a viscountess. Doubtless she provides the entree."

"Odd, though, very odd."

"How?" she said with a laugh, trying to tease him out of his hawkish mood. Like this, her father could be dangerous to whatever prey was in his eye. "Do you think he's bribed lords and dukes to be amiable?"

"I don't like pieces that don't fit, pet. You'd do well to keep away from him."

Lucy crushed down the urge to argue. He was right, though not for the reasons he had in mind.

"It won't be hard, Papa. He's paying court to a Miss Florence." As soon as it was out she was shocked to be telling her father a lie. That didn't stop her adding, "She's the niece of Maria Celestin's first husband. You remember her? She's Lady Vandeimen now."

"Aye, I remember. Celestin was a sleazy specimen, despite his gloss, and now she's married a young rake. The woman's a fool."

"He's a very tasty rake."

Her father laughed. "Then perhaps not so foolish, as long as he doesn't ruin her. Celestin's niece, eh? Dowered by him?"

"I a.s.sume so."

"Could be a sensible match. She'll have a handsome dowry, but she's as dubious as Wyvern. Rumor says she's Celestin's daughter by a married Belgian cousin. But even if she's all she should be, she's from foreign merchant stock. Yes, a good match."

Lucy couldn't bear any more of that.

"And your match, Father? How go the wedding preparations?"

"Well enough," he said, relaxing into a smile. "Charlotte's fixing up the nursery and schoolroom areas to be just as they should be for Ann and Jane, and making some other small alterations."

Lucy reminded herself that it would be unreasonable to object.

"Will you go on a honeymoon?"

"For a short while only. To Canterbury. I suggested Brighton, but Charlotte thinks it too hurly-burly and would like to visit the cathedral. Charlotte's sister will come to care for the girls, but Charlotte doesn't want to be away from them for long."

Once they'd conversed so easily, sometimes late into the night, covering a world of subjects. Now silence threatened.

"How's trade?" Lucy tried. "Does the economy improve? I've lost track of such matters at Aunt Mary's."

"Which is as it should be. Slow improvement, pet, slow, but there's money to be made, especially now there's a proper crackdown on smuggling."

That reminded her of Wyvern's challenge about the price she paid for tea, brandy, and silk.

"Have we ever used Freetrade goods, Papa?"

He shrugged. "Your mother bought her tea cheaply, thinking she got a good price because she bought from friends of mine. I didn't like to disabuse her."

"Is it the same with the silks and lace?"

"If they're foreign made, more than likely, pet. I don't dig too deep into other men's business. Don't make that face. You enjoy the prices and sharing them with your friends."

"But I didn't know," Lucy protested.

"And now you'll pay more?"

"Yes. What of your brandy?"

"It's the way of the world and I've no mind to put any more money than necessary into the government pot to pay for another of the Regent's follies."

"But if you want smuggling stopped, you must stop buying smuggled goods! Without a market, the trade will shrivel."

He shook his head. "I expected the west end to turn your head, pet, but not in a reforming direction. Be at ease. Charlotte's a woman of firm principles, and once I explain the likely source of cheap goods she'll shun them. Could make things difficult now and then, but we'll adapt, as married couples must."

Difficulties?

Because her father's dealings weren't entirely aboveboard?

Lucy had never seen any sign of that, but she'd never looked.

Perhaps a rapid rise in wealth couldn't be achieved entirely on the right side of the law. Again, her world was being turned upside down.

"Is it spoken of in the Mayfair drawing rooms, then?" he asked. "The Freetrade and the price of silk?"

"That we should all buy British silk to support the industry, certainly. The Regent makes much of that, which is well done of him. Nothing about smuggling, though. Nothing of importance at all. No, that's not true. Slavery was mentioned at one gathering, with support given to Mr. Wilberforce's attempts to outlaw it everywhere. At another, there was discussion about climbing boys and alternative ways to clean chimneys."

"Brushes are much improved and can do the job."

"We use brushes here. Perhaps I can organize a demonstration."

"Don't stick your head up yet, pet. Wait until you're married and amy lady.' Have your eye on anyone?"

Was she imagining it, or was he keen to hear her say yes?

"Alas, no," she said lightly. "I won't settle for just anyone."

"You're too much your mother's daughter for that. But the season won't go on forever. Will you stay with your aunt afterward? Perhaps go to Brighton or some similar place?"

"Do you want me to?" she challenged.

"I want you to enjoy yourself, pet." She was sure that was true, but also that he hoped she'd be away longer.

Forever?

She managed a smile. "I'm sure you and Charlotte would like the house to yourselves for a while, and I'd like to see Brighton. And the sea."

"You've never seen the sea?" he asked in surprise.

"Not unless the tidal stretch of the Thames counts."

"I suppose when we went traveling it was inland."

"And not too far and not too long, business being demanding."

"A good plan, Brighton," her father said and rose. "I'm engaged at a meeting at the Nutmeg. You won't mind me leaving you alone?"

She rose to kiss his cheek. "When have I ever?"

He left and it felt a more meaningful separation than his spending a few hours elsewhere.

The Nutmeg Inn was a favorite haunt of those merchants with interest in the spice trade. She'd never been there, and probably would not be allowed in, being a woman. There were many other such places, some with express interdicts against women.

That hadn't mattered when her father took her thoughts and concerns to such meetings and returned to talk over all that happened. But could a true partnership exist on that basis, and would her father cooperate? From their recent discussion it seemed more likely that he'd push her out again to "her rightful place." He was so sure he knew what was best for her.

She stood in fury, hands clenched, wanting to smash something. Things weren't to blame, however. People were. The world was.

Wasn't it possible to change the world?

The crepe had been removed from her mother's portrait, and something else. She scanned the room, trying to decide what was missing. The Indian statue. The G.o.ddess Lakshmi. It was supposed to bring good fortune and wealth to the house.

There'd been nothing lewd about it. It had shown an Indian lady in a lovely gown and headdress, holding a horn of plenty in one hand, pouring gold coins into a pot with another, and flowers in the other two. Perhaps it was the four arms that were intolerable to Charlotte, but more likely she thought it pagan.

There was something else.

Ah, a new china potpourri jar. A slightly different scent.

And hadn't there been a change in the hall?

She walked out and looked around. The statuette of the naked discus thrower had been replaced by a vase, and a painting of a shepherd with his shepherdess had gone. Were even two simpering country lovers too suggestive for Charlotte?

Who would soon be Mrs. Potter and rule here.

Lucy went up to her bedroom, which was blessedly untouched, thinking about the shepherd and his shepherdess, and the Peasant Earl and Iphigenia.

Tonight was Lady Iphigenia's ball. Would Wyvern be there? Would he dance with her?

How much was her dowry?

Impossible to summon a carriage and race over there to intervene, and foolish in all regards. After wasting time looking west toward Mayfair, Lucy went early to bed.

She expected to enjoy a night in the comfortable privacy of her familiar bed, but she lay sleepless. When the clocks struck midnight, she realized Lady Iphigenia's ball would still be frolicking along. When it struck one, she knew everyone would be leaving supper to return to the dance.

She forced her mind away from that, but then it latched onto her father's words about the Freetrade. She'd always believed him honest, but he saw nothing amiss with using smuggled goods. He'd always driven a hard bargain, and perhaps not always looked closely at the origins of cheap goods.

She'd never come across anything she'd think of as illegal, but her involvement had been in his prosperous days. He'd probably done any number of shady things when starting out, perhaps especially after his marriage.

She could imagine how that would have spurred his ambition. He'd have wanted to prove to his highborn bride that he was worthy. He'd have needed to give her a life close to the one she'd abandoned for love of him. He'd succeeded, more or less. Her mother had settled into the City with ease and made friends. But had she shown a preference for the company of Maria Celestin, the merchant's wife who was from the same background as she? Had she concealed a hurt from being cut off by her father?