Company Of Rogues: A Shocking Delight Part 13

"A shame Miss Potter didn't attend our church," Susan said to David as they walked home, Con on her other side. "As she wasn't at Lady Wraybourne's last night, you've left the field clear for your rivals."

"Need better intelligence," Con said. "Spies in the household."

"This is not a laughing matter!" Susan protested. "Thirty thousand pounds."

"With a person attached," David said. "I'm not going to marry her."

Susan stopped. "Why not?"

"Because she's quick and clever-"

"Miss Potter?" she interrupted, astonished.

"And thus, deceitful."

As they walked on, he told them about the way she'd reacted to the duel, and also about the encounter in the bookshop.

"It's not a sin to dress plainly for a visit to a shop," Susan said. "I like her spirit."

"So might I if she were honest with it, but she'd still not be a suitable bride. She's active, forceful, and holds strong opinions on the Freetrade. I could hope she'd be too clever to betray a husband, but when she's so skilled at deception, I'd never be able to trust her."

"It does seem a shame," Susan said. "She could dupe a Preventive officer with ease. I think you should learn more about her before giving up hope."

David didn't attempt to express his deep sense of vulnerability where Lucinda Potter was concerned. "I can't afford to waste time on her. I need to settle this quickly, so I'll look more closely at Miss Tapler and Miss Rackman."

"There have to be any number of well-dowered ladies whirling around the ton. Not thirty thousand or even twenty, but well enough. Cast your net wider."

"Turning your nose up at merchants' daughters? What then of Miss Potter?"

"Don't be irritating. In her case I want you to take more time. Thirty thousand, David. I know you could use every penny."

"I don't know why Con hasn't strangled you by now."

She chuckled. "Because I'm always right!"

David looked at Con, but the besotted man showed no offense.

That should turn him scathing about the follies of love, but he knew it for the gift it was and envied those allowed it.

"Please, David," Susan said, manipulating now. "Give it a week at least. A week in which you pay serious court to Miss Potter. You might find that all will be well."

He knew her insistence came from caring, but also from guilt. If he led an unhappy life because he'd accepted the earldom, she'd feel the burden of it. When he agreed, it was because he wanted to try to make Susan happy.

But also from a weak hope that Miss Potter would prove honest and true, and safe for him to wed.

Chapter 11.

Everyone retired early on Sunday night, but that meant that on Monday Lucy was awake early. She normally woke feeling freshly ready for the day, but today she felt sluggish. The tedious Sunday spent mostly sitting meant she hadn't fallen asleep easily, and she'd woken in the dead hours of the night remembering a dream of a church abuzz as a hive with scandal. Scandal about her mother and herself.

Buzz, buzz. Wicked folly.

Sting! She'll be like her mother.

Sting! She'd run off with a rascal. . . .

She'd lain awake in the dark fighting to dispel the nonsense, knowing it grew in some way from the wretched earl. She'd met Lord Wyvern twice. Three times if the two occasions at Lady Charrington's ball were counted separately. No one could tumble into perilous insanity in such a brief time.

That's what her mother had done, though. Sting!

Marriage, any marriage, would shatter her hopes. But it was what her father wanted for her. Marry her off. Get her out of his new home. His and Charlotte's home.

Buzz, buzz. Sting! Sting!

The house on Nailer Street would be more of a home to Charlotte's two daughters than to her. It would be entirely the home of Charlotte's future children, especially the eldest boy.

Who would in time inherit it.

And there was nothing she could do to stop that.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Now, in the morning light, the tormenting thoughts were only memories. That didn't mean they weren't true, however.

Monday. It had to be better than Sunday.

Surely they would flit about Town all day and dance until dawn and she wouldn't have to think about anything. Especially if she had the good fortune not to meet Wyvern.

Exasperated, she climbed out of bed and went to look out through a gap in the curtains. The window gave only a view of other houses, but the sky said it was a beautiful morning. That was what she needed. Fresh air and suns.h.i.+ne to drive away the dismals.

A glance at the clock told her it was only just ten. That would have been late at home, but here Clara could sleep on for hours. At home, she would go out into the garden to enjoy such a morning, but this house had only a yard at the back that ended with a high wall that separated it from a lane, then the backyards of a similar row of houses on the next street. The people who lived in these fas.h.i.+onable terraces seemed to feel no need for a garden. She supposed they had ample greenery on their country estates, and if they pined here, they visited one of the nearby parks.

The parks.

Lucy rang the bell, but she waited at the door to tell Hannah to be quiet about bringing the was.h.i.+ng water so as not to wake Clara.

"I'll wear the mouse-brown traveling dress," she whispered as she washed as quietly as she could. "It's easy to get into. And the small bonnet."

"A bonnet, Miss Lucy?"

"We're going for a walk."

Once the corset was laced, she said, "I'll finish dressing. You get your things and meet me in the hall."

The maid went and Lucinda put on the gown, which fastened at the front. She added a short spencer and the simple bonnet that went with it. She'd brought the traveling outfit because she'd brought nearly everything, but she'd not expected to wear it.

She left the room and went downstairs, enjoying the quiet of the house.

In the hall she eyed the door to the library. She opened it and looked in. Deserted. And as she'd hoped, three newspapers were spread on the table. Aunt Mary certainly Would Not Approve, but she went over to read the Times, turning past the advertis.e.m.e.nts on the front page, hungry for news.

She scanned a summary of last week's parliamentary business. The first part was on international affairs. She normally tried to keep abreast of that, but she sped on to national matters. An item on climbing boys was interesting. The practice of using young boys to clean chimneys certainly should be banned. There were other ways.

She saw a small article about an exhibition of new inventions for the home. It didn't seem likely to appeal to her aunt and cousin, but she'd like to go. Inventions were always intriguing, often useful, and sometimes excellent investments.

Then came a slightly longer account of a parliamentary debate on the detrimental effects of smuggling on industry. One speaker from Suss.e.x complained that the Freetrade in his area meant there was none of the trading enterprise that was making the midlands and north so prosperous. It was Parliament's duty, he said, to crush the iniquitous trade lest Britain's ancient parts crumble whilst northern upstarts rise in glory.

"Miss Lucy?"

Lucy started, but it was only Hannah. She reluctantly closed and smoothed the newspaper, then pulled on her gloves and left the house, wondering which side Wyvern would be on. Was his land in the north, midlands, or south? His mother's lover had been a smuggler, so surely on the south coast somewhere. He was interested in agriculture, however, for he'd purchased that book. As smuggling damaged agriculture, he must be opposed to the vile trade.

His views would be interesting. But she had no desire to discuss the matter with him. Really, she didn't.

The street was abustle with servants on errands, street vendors pus.h.i.+ng carts and calling their wares, and cows and goats being led along to dispense milk on demand. There were no fine carriages and no sauntering dandies to trouble her, for the ton slept.

The air felt fresher, however, and Lucy resolved to come out in the morning more often.

She was soon in Hyde Park, and found the nearer part the domain of children and nursemaids. She watched a young girl running along, trying to get a kite to fly. It reminded Lucy of the times her father would help her to fly a kite or sail a boat on a pond. He'd always been busy, but he'd found time to spend with her, even when she was too young for business matters. Her mother had sometimes complained that he encouraged her in boyish games, but he'd always laughed and said it would do no harm.

She recognized that he'd longed for a son. If Charlotte Johnson gave him a son, he would find even more time to play boyish games with him. Then later, he'd introduce him fully into the manly world, and the manly world would accept him warmly.

She sniffed back tears as she turned away from the kite.

There, only yards away, stood the Earl of Wyvern, watching her.

He walked forward. "Tears, Miss Potter?"

Hannah stepped forward as if to protect her, but Lucy waved her back. "Hay fever," she said.

"I see no hay."

Lucy pulled her handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, making good work of it to support her excuse. "As I'm sure you know, my lord, it can be caused by new-mown gra.s.s. You will allow there to be plenty of gra.s.s?"

He smiled. "And newly mown."

That smile shouldn't be allowed, nor should he be allowed to wear the country clothes in which she'd first seen him.

"Pretending to be a simple country gentleman again, my lord?"

"There's no pretense."

"The Peasant Earl in truth?"

She walked on, but he kept pace with her. "What does that mean?"

Hannah had dropped back discreetly. Lucy knew she should avoid a private discussion with Lord Wyvern, but what could be the harm here in a park?

"Your latest designation from the gossips. From a novel about a hidden heir raised in a hovel. In the end, you marry a shepherdess called Iphigenia."

"A most unlikely shepherdess."

"She's revealed to be the daughter of the king."

He laughed. Such a laugh shouldn't be allowed, but Lucy couldn't help but smile.

"So you truly are addicted to novels," he said. "How goes Love and Horror?"

"Flouris.h.i.+ngly, all around Town. And more horror than love."

"As bad as that?"

"If that duel had actually happened, yes."

"Miss Potter, on that occasion, I fear I spoke to you discourteously. I apologize."

Lucy glanced at him and saw sincerity. That must mean he was after her fortune after all, but she couldn't be cold in return. Not here, and not with him being the Winsom's man.

"I was a little intemperate myself, my lord. Do you come often to the park?"

"Especially in the morning, though it can't compare to the Devon coast."

As she'd thought.

"So far away," she said, reminding herself that distance was another bulwark against insanity. Devon wasn't as far from London as Scotland, but it was too many miles for her. "You must be interested in the parliamentary debate on the Freetrade, my lord."

"Not at all."

She stared at him. "How can that be?"

"Nothing will stop smuggling except lowering excise. The government won't do that because it needs every penny of tax to pay the debts from the long wars."

"You can't condone illegality."

"I can't stop it, either."

"You're an earl!"

"Earls don't have armies anymore, Miss Potter. Even an army would be hard-pressed to guard the whole coastline of Britain on a moonless night."