“Of course he does.” Louisa’s voice was dryly amused.
“So, judging by all the moping you have been doing, you did not have this information.”
“No. I did not.”
“Well, now that you do perhaps you can better employ your time on my art work as well as pondering whether you would be suitable to take on the life of a duchess.”
“I could probably answer that question right this minute and tell you that I would be the least suitable duchess to ever take on the role.”
“But…” the Dowager Duchess studied her intently.
“But…I think that I could love your son, heart and soul. I think it would be worth it to find out just what kind of duchess I could be, if I had the chance to be Jeremy’s wife.”
“What if you were not able to be both duchess and painter? Which would you choose?”
Louisa opened her mouth to answer but then closed it again. The Dowager Duchess smiled at her. “It’s not so easy is it?”
Louisa shook her head ruefully. “The answer should be obvious. I would be honored to serve the Duke as his wife. On the other hand, the prospect of never having a paintbrush in my hand…” her fingers flexed even as she thought it.
“An impossibility?”
Louisa nodded slowly. “I fear so. But…”
“But what, my dear?”
“Why would he make me choose?”
“I feel quite sure that Jeremy would not consciously make you choose; however, the role of duchess comes with various obligations and duties. You may find that your painting is confined to the back burner, forever an afterthought.”
“Perhaps…” Louisa flicked her a glance before looking away.
“What is it? Don’t be shy.”
“Well, perhaps you could teach me how to…balance? If you taught me my duties, I could find a way to fulfill them without losing myself.”
The Dowager Duchess smiled. “You feel quite sure that he will make an offer for you?”
Louisa thought about it seriously. “If he was serious enough to go to come up to scratch with my father, and then listen to his advice…I think that there is a good chance that he will choose me.”
“Well…you are fly to the time of day; I will say that for you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Louisa inclined her head with a smile.
The Dowager Duchess sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I will teach you what I know. The rest, is up to you.”
“That is all I can ask.”
“But I need to know. What will you do if he changes his mind? If he does not make an offer?”
Louisa sighed. “I suppose…I shall have to live with it.”
“Or maybe you talk some sense into him.”
Louisa grinned. “Yes. Maybe I do that.”
* * *
Gilbert nodded to Fairchild as he took a seat opposite him.
“Notley. This is a surprise.”
“Ah,” Gilbert paused to take a drink, “if you’re surprised to see me, you shall be shocked to know the Duke is here as well.”
“The…Duke? Are you sure?”
Gilbert laughed. “Am I sure? I traveled with him.”
“What does he want?”
Gilbert frowned into his tankard of ale, “Nothing good.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Go over your records with a fine-tooth comb. He will be wanting to see you in the morning.”
Fairchild nodded. “I will do that. I am surprised that he is interested.”
Gilbert sighed. “The new Duke is unpredictable.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
Gilbert gave him a look. “I do not know yet.”
* * *
“Rise and shine Louisa! It’s market day.” Her father called from the other side of the door. She had not really been speaking to him in the last few days, too wracked with a feeling of betrayal. Although she understood what her father had meant by asking Jeremy to be sure, she was also quite annoyed at him for doubting that she wasn’t just some green girl suffering from her first infatuation…and then tarring the Duke with the same brush.
It really is none of his business!
A marriage was between a man and a woman and only they knew if it was suitable or risky.
Yet, she could not quite ignore him. For one thing, he was still sick. For another, market day was important to them. Apart from the fair, there was hardly an occasion as colorful and brimming with all sorts of life as market day. She and her father derived some of their best works from scenes they captured in the early morning light, as people hustled and bustled about, bargaining and arguing, shouting their wares and haggling.
Their market day paintings usually sold quite well among noblemen for whom the paintings were probably the closest they ever got to the filth and press of people.
For Louisa, it was a great exercise in capturing images quickly and drawing more from the atmosphere of a place rather than an accurate representation of every little thing. It was the opposite of portrait painting and much more enjoyable. It was easier to give the marketplace paintings her own twist; she might add scampering little imps to represent the street urchins darting hither and thither, trying to snatch an apple or a discarded loaf for a meal. She might add an old hag, looking for simples as she cast a furtive eye about, the wart on her nose as big as a rock. Perhaps she meant to cast spells with them, perhaps to heal the sick…no one would ever know.
So she got up and made her preparations, still not ready to exchange pleasantries with her father, but not willing to miss out just to sulk.
Her father sighed as he caught sight of her. “I know that you know about the Duke asking me for your hand. No doubt you blame me for his absence.”
She shrugged, rather sulkily. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I did ask him to go away so he could be sure. I was only trying to protect you.”
She took a deep breath, and prepared herself to be as civil as possible. “I do thank you for your concern, Father, but I do not think it was necessary to send him away. I am a grown woman able to discern her feelings quite accurately. The Duke has been away at sea, has had his adventures and come home to assume his responsibility. So we must also assume that he is a grown gentleman able to discern his emotions. For you to discard both of our feelings in such a manner was not fair!” her voice rose with every word and by the end of her diatribe, she sounded quite shrill. Her father seemed to hunch in on himself more and more with every word.
“I am sorry you see it that way, Louisa, but you must trust that was not my intention. I am sick. Very likely I shall soon be gone and there will be nobody to speak up for you.”
“I can speak up for myself, Father!” Louisa knew she was shouting, but couldn’t seem to make herself stop.
Americus abruptly made for the door. “We are wasting the light. Are you coming?”
Louisa could do nothing but growl.
Chapter 27
Revelatory
Jeremy woke up early, commandeered a horse and went to see his man of business. His steward had confirmed that he had indeed notified the gentleman that the Duke would be calling upon him and so he expected that Mr. Fairchild was ready.
He arrived at the man’s Cheapside office to find it still locked, much to his chagrin. Looking around, he spotted a small coffee shop not far away and decided to have something to eat, since he had skipped breakfast.
He entered the dimly-lit shop; the only light coming from the open door and took a seat at the end of a bench. To his surprise, a serving girl appeared almost as soon as he sat down, asking for his order.
“Some coffee, please, and perhaps a pigeon pie if you have it.”
“Coming right up guv’nor,” she said and even sketched something of a curtsy. Jeremy hid his amusement, looking down at his hands as he waited for his food. He looked up as he heard a loud giggle and saw that there was a young woman ensconced in a man’s lap at the next table. He snorted,
looking away.
It’s too early for this surely.
But something about her drew his attention and he looked up just in time to see one of her hands snake into the man’s pocket and emerge with his purse. She leaned in, kissing him passionately all the while picking his pockets. Jeremy almost laughed out loud, debating with himself whether or not he should warn the man.
But then his vision sharpened as he got a good look at the girl. She was statuesque, with silky blonde hair; she wore no cap and her décolletage was on full display. There was just something about her that was eerily familiar.
She got to her feet and walked casually away, the man watching her hips sway the entire time. Jeremy decided not to say anything to him.
Serve him right for being so distracted and careless.
He thought back with a pang to his friend Daniel, and how sick he had become when just such a quick-fingered girl had poisoned his drink. He stiffened suddenly, eyes narrowing as he peered into the gloom to more closely study the girl. If he was not mistaken, and he was quite sure he wasn’t, this girl was the same one that had poisoned his friend!
They had looked high and low for her after the incident but she had been nowhere to be found. No wonder if she’d ran off to London. She stopped at another table, bending to whisper in another man’s ear and he was just sharp eyed enough to see her tuck the purse in the man’s waistcoat.
So they were a gang, working in concert with each other. She straightened up, threw a smile at her mark before heading toward the back as if she was going to the privy. Jeremy smirked, looking at the man she’d given the purse to…and froze.
It was his man of business, Mr. Fairchild.
Jeremy blinked a few times, unable to believe his eyes.
What on earth…?
He sank back into the shadows, just watching everyone in the room. The man who had been robbed did not realize until it was time to pay for his ale. He stood up, frantically searching his pockets as Mr. Fairchild casually got to his feet and left the shop. Jeremy drank his coffee slowly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.
The man finally realized that he had been robbed and took off for the back of the shop, following the young woman. The serving girl watched him go with a look of shock on her face.
So the shop is not in on it.
The man came back, looking frantically around. “Where is she? Where did she go?”
“Who’m you speaking abaht?” a diminutive woman emerged from behind the counter to ask.
“Th-the wench who sat in me lap! She stole me money! Call the Constable! Get me a Bow Street Runner.”
“Now haud on. Calm down man. You said which wench stole your coin? Do you see her? Is she still here?” the madam asked.
The man looked around as if he expected the wench to pop up at any moment. “No. She’s not here!”
“Well then, I suggest you go on and find her wherever she is. We’ve nothing to do with the Constable here. Why’d you let some stranger sit in yer lap?”
The man became extremely red but had no answer to give and so he just flounced out of the shop, muttering to himself. Jeremy checked his pockets to ensure that he still had his purse.
He had a lot to think about.
* * *
In the end, Jeremy did not call on his man of business, opting instead to visit White’s in the hope of finding his friend there, just sitting down to breakfast. He was not disappointed and ordered a beefsteak for himself as well as a tankard of ale.
“What’s raining on your parade this morning?” Daniel asked.
Jeremy bit his bottom lip, wondering how to explain. “I…think my man of business is involved in some sort of criminal enterprise.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
Jeremy leaned forward, looking around to check that nobody was listening. “Remember that time you were robbed when we went to the tavern and you had those two tavern wenches with you?”
Daniel’s expression became dour. “How could I forget? My stomach was upset for quite some time.”
“Yes, well, I just saw her picking a man’s pockets in a coffee shop near Mr. Fairchild’s office.”
Daniel frowned. “You saw the woman who poisoned me in a coffee shop?” he asked in stupefaction.
“Yes.”
“Huh…And that makes you think your man of business is a criminal?”
“No! Mr. Fairchild was also in the shop although I did not see him as I went in. The woman passed the purse on to him!”
Daniel leaned in as well. “I do not understand what you’re saying. Could you start at the beginning and tell me the whole story?”
“Sure,” Jeremy said and proceeded to do just that. Daniel was a good listener, oohing and aahing at all the right parts. Afterwards though, he sat back, looking thoughtful.
“You think he sent those girls to Munboro?”
Jeremy shook his head. “I think they were in Munboro already but then when they realized we were looking for them, they fled here.”
“And just happened to meet with Mr. Fairchild? That’s a hell of a coincidence.”
“Yes…hell of a coincidence.”
They stared at each other, thinking thoughts they did not want to speak aloud. Not yet. Not without any proof.
“So will you go and see him?”
“I will have to. I imagine he’s wondering where I am right this minute.”
Daniel straightened up feigning pomposity. “You’re a Duke! Of course you don’t turn up on time to meet mangy money managers. It’s all so…pedestrian.” He waved his finger airily, making Jeremy laugh.
“I do not think I am the type of duke to pull that off successfully.”
“You never know. I have faith in you.”
Jeremy just laughed and dug into his steak. They ate in silence for a while.
“Seriously though, what will you do next?”
Jeremy chewed thoughtfully. “Confront Fairchild?”
“Is that wise? He is a criminal.”
“I cannot simply pretend I don’t know. In any case, I must withdraw my family’s holdings from his care.”
“Mm, well, you are not going alone.”
“Thank you.”
“Take your steward with you.”
Jeremy simply gave him a look and Daniel burst out laughing. “Of course I’m pulling your leg. I shall accompany you to this dastardly den. When shall we go?”
“After breakfast?”
“That’s fine. Let’s do it.”
* * *
As they walked down the street toward the offices of Mr. Fairchild, they caught sight of the man himself, engaged in intense conversation with Notley. Jeremy paused, just watching the two men. He turned to Daniel and they exchanged glances.
“Do you think…?”
“On the basis of what? Them speaking to each other?”
“They seem to know each other very well.”
“Yes, well, they both worked for your father. No doubt they had plenty of interactions over the years.”
“Exactly. Plenty of interactions. And now this wench, who was in Munboro, stealing from men in taverns – not just you – fled to London and now she is working for Fairchild?”
“Those are an awful lot of accusations. Almost a conspiracy.”
“I have not – yet – accused anyone of anything.”
“But I can see the wheels turning in your mind, old friend. Do you really want to stir this pot?”
“I do not see that I have a choice.”
“And this has nothing to do with your dislike of the man?”
Jeremy just sighed, long and deep.
* * *
Louisa was surprised to find Mr. Jones sitting with her father when she got home from painting at the gazebo. She had finished her painting of roses and was thinking about working on Jeremy’s portrait. There were elements she did not require his presence for. She had avoided working on it because it made her miss him and she did not want to pine.
She refused to be that tragic heroine wasting away as she waited for her prince to rescue her. There was work to do, and lessons with the Dowager Duchess on the various duties she might need to perform should she become the Duchess of Munboro. She had no time for misery and angst.
Tempting The Ruined Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 23
