‘Now, now, Ellie,’ he protested, holding up his palms in a placating gesture. ‘I may be a man about town, but as I assured you earlier, I’ve no interest in the infancy. My tastes run to mature fruit, not budding blossoms.’ He ran his eyes over her figure, and she had to resist the urge to slap him. ‘Ripe, fully developed, and like fine wine, aged enough to have developed complexity and staying power.’
‘Then I suggest you head off to a wine merchant. There is no such fruit available here, at any price.’
‘If I must, but first, allow me to apologise for my rather boorish behaviour at Gunter’s the other day. The wine fumes from the night before had not fully cleared from my brain, alas, and I made some rather...unfortunate remarks.’
‘I would rather describe them as “unforgivable”.’
He shook his head. ‘I had spent the night in riotous company, and my tongue hadn’t reverted to conversing with more...genteel persons. As I see you are striving hard to become. I asked around, and it appears this school is not only legitimate, you’ve obtained the backing of some quite prominent Society figures. I must say, learning about this side of you makes you even more intriguing, my dear.’
‘I am not your “dear”, nor will you develop an acquaintance with any side of me. Can I make it plainer than that?’
There was another knock at the door, and ready to welcome any interruption that would speed Mountgarcy’s departure, Ellie walked over and yanked it open. And then stopped, sucking in a breath, to find it was Christopher who had come visiting.
For a moment, she simply stood there, her avid gaze taking in his handsome face, the beautiful turquoise eyes gazing at her with warmth and concern—while awareness flashed through her, setting her senses humming in response to his nearness.
‘Mr Lattimar!’ she said, finding her voice at last. ‘Please, come in. Lord Mountgarcy was just leaving.’
Christopher’s smile evaporated as he jerked his gaze from her face to where the Viscount stood, watching them. ‘Mountgarcy,’ he said coldly, giving the older man a nod.
‘Lattimar,’ the Viscount replied. ‘Still maintaining your interest in the...school, I see. Another discussion on behalf of your mother, who, I understand, is in fact a benefactor of Miss Parmenter’s enterprise?’ Looking back to Ellie, he said, ‘Perhaps I would receive a warmer reception, were I also to become a supporter. I’m no stranger to philanthropic causes. I have a deep purse, a wide reach, and might be able to do you a great deal of good. Which could be...enjoyable. For both of us.’
‘If you truly are interested in joining this philanthropic cause, you should apply to Lady Sayleford. She’s to be the head of the governing board,’ Ellie replied.
Mountgarcy laughed. ‘Ah, you trump carnal interest by playing the card of the most eminently respectable Society matron of them all! Well done. The game grows more interesting by the day.’
Ellie nearly ground her teeth in frustration. ‘How can I convince you there is no game?’
‘You’ll never do that, my dear,’ he said, and strolled towards the door. As he passed her, he suddenly ran a finger under her chin. ‘Like silk,’ he murmured. ‘Good day, Miss Parmenter.’
Furious that he’d managed to touch her, Ellie slammed the door behind him, rubbing at the spot on her chin. ‘Detestable man! He claimed he came to apologise, but I think he only wanted to see how the ground lay, that he might scheme ways to bring me to capitulate.’
Christopher frowned. ‘You’re not alone and friendless any more, Ellie. There is no possibility of him manoeuvring you into a position where you would have to “capitulate”.’
Shutting out of mind the one way Christopher could with absolutely certainty prevent that, she said, ‘I know. I have my school, and enough supporters to ensure its future. It would take a catastrophe indeed to make me desperate enough to resort to sheltering with the likes of him.’
‘I intend to make sure you never suffer a catastrophe that serious!’ Christopher declared.
‘Enough about that unpleasant subject. What brings you to the school today?’
‘I called at Hans Place, but Tarleton said you were here. I hadn’t heard anything yet about when we might have our next lesson. No rush about it—I won’t be engaged on the political front until after the dinner at Lord Witlow’s next week. I...I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind about teaching me.’
So he’d been worried she might listen to the voice of prudence, and pull back? She ought to have enough sense to do just that, she thought, half-resigned, half-regretful. So far, spending time with him had turned up little reason to think less of him, beyond the indisputable fact of the unsuitability of their being together—a fact she’d already known, but still seemed to have trouble facing. She felt a futile satisfaction that he was apparently as drawn to continue spending time with her as she was to him.
‘No, I haven’t changed my mind—even though it would be more sensible. But I mean to honour my pledge to help you. I only just heard from Lady Sayleford that it would be convenient for her to lend me the Blue Salon tomorrow afternoon at three to meet Sophie, and received Sophie’s confirmation she could be there. I was about to write and request that, if your schedule will permit, we meet at two. Lady Sayleford has a fine pianoforte. Since your young ladies will surely perform at musicales and after dinners to display their skills, you will need to know what is required of gentlemen as such gatherings.’
‘Yes, I can be at Lady Sayleford’s tomorrow. An eminently safe venue.’
She looked up to meet his rueful gaze. ‘Exactly,’ she said drily, trying to submerge her regret that they must be safe.
‘I’d much prefer for us to be foolish,’ he said softly, echoing the words of her heart, and giving her a look that so mirrored her yearning it resonated deep within her.
It took her a moment to fight free of it. ‘All the more reason to be wise,’ she replied resolutely.
‘Regrettably true. In any event, I will look forward to hearing you play.’ He paused, as if uncertain whether or not to continue. ‘Did you enjoy music growing up?’ he asked finally.
She had a sudden vision of the old music room at Wanstead Manor, the couch covers worn and the window hangings faded, but the pianoforte kept in perfect tune. ‘I adored it. The last governess we had, before Mama had to let her go, was quite proficient, and taught me all she knew. There was no coal for the hearth, and we dared burn only one candle, but oh, how many evenings after dinner we’d bundle up in our shawls and retire there, me with mittens on, playing from memory for Mama and Sophie! Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘For so long, I’ve blocked out all thought of Wanstead. But despite our poverty, most of my growing up there was happy. I’m glad to recover one such memory.’
‘I’m glad to make you glad,’ he said with a smile, reaching out to clasp her hand.
Awareness jolted through her anew, stimulating nerves from the tip of her head to her toes. She should drop his fingers, step away, but the contact was so delicious, both arousing and comforting, that she couldn’t help indulging herself for a few brief moments.
Soon enough, he’ll be gone, and all I will have is this memory.
Artis came bounding into the room, stopping short at the sight of them, and giving Ellie the resolve to pull away.
‘Be you ready to go, miss? And is the nob going to escort us, too?’
‘Good afternoon, Miss Artis,’ Christopher said. ‘I trust you are getting along well here?’
‘Oh, yes, your Honour! ’Twas me lucky day when I tried to get me fives a-going into your pocket!’
‘And you’ve proved to your satisfaction that you’re in no danger here?’
Flushing, the girl looked at Ellie. ‘Right sorry I am, miss, to have thought you an abbess and this place a School of Venus! I can’t thank Miss Parmenter enough, sir! All the rum prog
I can eat, and jest look at me!’ The girl twirled, laughing with irrepressible delight. ‘Dressed up fine as fivepence! And being taught me sums and letters. Don’t imagine heaven be any nicer.’
Christopher shared an amused glance with Ellie. ‘Glad to hear you say so. Now, where is it I’m supposed to be escorting you?’
‘Artis is going to show me a market area where I can buy provisions at a bargain. Jensen will accompany us, so you needn’t waste your time on such a commonplace mission.’
‘On the contrary! As I told you, my mother insisted I learn about the products needed to run a household and where to obtain them. I’m as keen to guard my pennies as any thrifty housewife. Which market are we exploring?’
The clock ticking in her head warned that all too soon, she would finish his lessons, leaving her no further excuse to seek his company. With him professing his eagerness to go with them, Ellie couldn’t quite force herself to turn him down.
‘The markets up Tottenham Court Road,’ Artis answered him. ‘Just wait till you see the bargains there! Better than Cheapside!’
‘Late morning as it is, we should depart at once, then, before all the prime offerings are gone. No need for Jensen; I can carry the baskets.’ Giving Ellie a wink, with a sweeping motion, he herded Artis to the door.
Chapter Twelve
A short time later, their hackney set them down where the stalls of the street market began. If his cronies at the gaming houses with deep play and light ladies could see him now, Christopher thought with a grin. Bear-leading an urchin and a reformed courtesan to purchase brooms, scouring powder and cabbages.
But if it meant spending time with Ellie, he’d look at tooth powder and coal scuttles.
They had not gone more than a few steps when the competing voices of the merchants and salesmen crying their wares and the hustle-bustle of a diversity of people engaged his interest on their own behalf. ‘What an assembly!’ he called to Ellie over the hubbub, both of them pacing to keep Artis in sight as she darted in and out around pedestrians, stalls, wheelbarrows and donkey carts.
‘Fascinating!’ Ellie said, her eyes alight with curiosity. ‘I would never have expected such a vast array of goods at a street market.’
Seeming to have a destination in mind, Artis led them past stalls hung with tin saucepans, displays of glassware shiny as mirrors that caught and reflected the bright sunlight, bins of china and pottery in different hues. They tiptoed along the kerb to avoid tripping over a line of second-hand shoes, while an assortment of shirts, trousers, and vests pinned to a cord flapped in the breeze at them.
Artis finally stopped before a baker’s stand in one of the busiest sections. ‘Best bread and buns you ever tasted,’ she announced.
‘Right you are, young miss,’ the baker called back. ‘How many loaves can I get you, my lady? And maybe an extra bun for you, miss, for crying my wares for me?’
‘Six loaves, please,’ Ellie said, retrieving her purse.
Artis reached out for the roll. ‘Thankee, sir. Didn’t used to treat me so nice when I hung about, hoping to filch a bun while yer back was turned.’
The baker leaned closer to peer at her. ‘Why, you be that starving scamp of a boy I had to keep chasing off!’ he said in amazement.
‘Aye. Don’t do no filching now, but ye should be thankful I did afore, else I wouldn’t have known to bring you this lady here. Mind now, don’t you be charging her more than tuppence a loaf—I heard ye calling it out often enough.’
‘It’s a right fine lass ye make,’ the baker said as he parcelled up the loaves and handed them to Artis, who tucked them into her basket.
‘Thankee. I’m a student at her school now, and she’s got seven mouths to feed every day. Be worth yer while to send a boy there every morning.’
‘I expect so, if you’d like an order every morning, ma’am?’
‘For tuppence a loaf I would,’ Ellie replied.
After giving the baker the address on Dean Street, Artis led them off, happily munching her roll. And eating it daintily, Christopher noticed—a far cry from the starving urchin who’d torn into the damaged meat pasty like a wild dog that day in Green Park. What a service Ellie was providing, in truth!
‘Thank you, Artis,’ Ellie was telling her. ‘The loaves are excellent, and it’s half what I usually spend for bread.’
Artis nodded. ‘Told you so. There’s more coming.’
She continued to lead them from stall to stall, costermonger to costermonger, obviously having closely observed all the sellers in the bustling market and picked out her favourites. Ellie chose oranges from one wheelbarrow, butter and eggs from the back of a donkey cart, green and purple cabbages from a stall, turnips and onions from braided display. By the time they’d wound their way through the busiest section, their baskets were brimming with the addition of nuts, apples, cheese and a fine yellow haddock for the girls’ dinner.
‘Thank you, Artis,’ Ellie said after she’d tucked the last bit into their full baskets. ‘We’ve enough provisions for today, staples to last the week, and a promise from several vendors to come by Dean Street. All for significantly less than I have been paying.’
Artis nodded, her cheeks glowing at the praise. ‘Like I promised, miss. Nothing fancy here, just good honest grub at a fair price.’
The food stalls had given way to a lane offering household items, a coal shed side by side with a stall selling boot-blacking, another with combs, brushes and shaving gear. Beyond that stood an old wooden stall displaying used books.
‘Be ye needing any of these, miss?’ Artis asked. ‘I used to stand here and just look at them, all them pretty-coloured covers with the letters stamped out in gold. How I wished I could read one! Now, thanks to you, soon I will.’
Christopher ran a quick eye over the selections on display. Old sermons, hymnbooks, some novels, and a copy of One Thousand and One Nights. Plucking out that volume, he said, ‘If you like tall tales, you’ll like this one, Artis.’
The girl took it from his hand, the look on her face reverent as she carefully turned the pages. ‘That be wonderful, sir. Mebbe some day I’ll own a real book.’
Before she could put it back, Christopher produced a coin and flipped it to the bookseller. ‘You own one now. In thanks, for helping Miss Parmenter save so much blunt.’
The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Truly, sir? I kin keep it?’
Christopher smiled as her obvious delight. ‘Truly. It’s a gift. And mind, I shall want to hear a dramatic reading of the story of Scheherazade, once you’ve mastered your letters.’
Artis looked at Christopher with awe. ‘Never had nobody give me nothin’ afore. I’ll treat it tender as a newborn babe, sir. And thankee!’
After stroking the leather binding, Artis opened the book, rapt as she slowly flipped through the pages. Watching her, Christopher was moved—and humbled.
‘We have so much, and count it so little,’ he said to Ellie beside him, her gaze also on Artis.
‘So I was thinking this morning. And realise even more, walking through this market. Such a variety of common folk, all busy about the tasks that keep this great metropolis running,’ she said, gesturing towards the throng hurrying by. ‘The costermongers with their wares, of course, but all who buy from them, too—boot makers and bakers and butchers, blacksmiths and mechanics and sweepers, maids and cooks and footmen, coachmen and ostlers and keepers of public houses. People you serve, and want to give a fairer voice in determining their government. What noble work you perform!’
Her praise warmed, but also surprised him, that she recognised and appreciated his goal. What a dedicated reformer she would make! ‘You’re right, I would like every able-bodied man to have a vote—and women, too, eventually. But no cause for adulation yet. We’re far from achieving that. The Lords are kicking up a fuss about fairly appor
tioning even the votes that now exist.’
‘It’s a beginning. Those in power would never have initiated change, had you and your fellow reformers not dragged them down that path. What immense satisfaction that must give you!’
‘It does. Much like, I imagine, rescuing girls like Artis gives you.’
Gesturing to the girl, still raptly regarding her book, Ellie said, ‘You’ve certainly made a friend for life there. It was so kind of you to give her—’ she broke off, her eyes widening and her lips curving into a smile ‘—a book! We shall squeeze a lesson out of this shopping expedition after all.’
‘Training me how to carry a market basket for a young lady?’ he teased.
‘As if you’d bring a gently born young maiden into this mob!’ she replied with a laugh. ‘I’m in earnest! As we already discussed, you cannot give a lady jewels or any sort of apparel, but books are quite permissible.’
‘Improving sermons, guide books to London, biographies of the kings and queens of England?’ he suggested.
‘Yes. No fiction, of course. Also, gifts of oranges, like those,’ she said, gesturing down the street towards one stall, ‘or such fine apples and pears as those,’ she continued, pointing out another, ‘or a basket of nuts would also be welcomed by the household.’
They’d been following Artis, who strolled along with most of her attention focused on her book. As they reached a crossroads, she looked up to get her bearings—and stiffened, an expression of alarm on her face.
‘What is it, Artis?’ Ellie asked.
‘N-nothing, miss,’ Artis said. ‘Need you anything else? P’haps we oughta get back.’
Exchanging a puzzled glance with Christopher, Ellie said, ‘Very well. We have all we need today.’
Nodding, Artis set off again at a brisk pace, leading them this time down a side lane away from the main road of the market. Not until they were several streets along, after peering behind them, did she slow her pace. ‘There’s a good tea shop here, if you want a spot of refreshment.’
Secret Lessons with the Rake Page 13
