Lord of Mischief

by Sasha Cottman

  “I think it’s time you and I agreed on a new name. How about Zeus? While you won’t ever be an ancient god, I do think it adds a certain level of gravitas to your impressive size.”

  The dog’s ears pricked up. Freddie walked out of the kitchen before stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Zeus! Come on, boy,” he called.

  The sound of paws and claws scattering on the stone floor came from the kitchen, followed by the appearance of a large head in the doorway. Zeus had a huge grin on his face.

  With Zeus by his side, Freddie went in search of a bottle of his father’s good wine. He would need to numb himself to the pain of his bruised and battered face if he was to stand any chance of getting sleep this night.

  The following morning, he paid Trenton Embry a visit.

  “I was wondering when you would darken my doorstep,” said Trenton, ushering Freddie into a drawing room.

  He walked up to Freddie, then stopped. He let out a disapproving “tut” as his gaze ran over Freddie’s face. The force of Francis’s punch had resulted in a pair of black eyes as well as a broken nose. The two bottles of wine he had polished off the previous night had at least given him a decent night’s sleep, but Freddie knew his face was a mess.

  “No need to ask who gave you that,” said Trenton, pointing at Freddie’s face.

  Freddie straightened his back. He had never taken to the dour Embry. “Since you already know full well whose handiwork is reflected on my visage, I came to ask you why you felt the need to seek out Evelyn Saunders last night. Eve and I were finished the moment she left Rosemount Abbey, so why would you feel the need to stir the pot?”

  Trenton snorted. “As usual, you have it all wrong. I spoke to Miss Saunders and told her you were under the influence of Osmont Firebrace, and that at some point in the future she may wish to hear you out and possibly forgive you for being a complete ass. If there is one thing I know about women, it is they don’t suddenly fall out of love with a chap. You no doubt broke her heart, but I would wager a guinea on the fact she still lies in bed at night and cries over you. She, of course, told me otherwise. The girl does have a strong spirit about her.”

  “And that is all you told her?”

  Trenton pointed toward the door. “Yes. The rest of it is of no interest to me, nor of my concern. You made this mess; I suggest you either set about cleaning it up or accept you are going to be lying in it for a very long time.”

  Freddie pushed past him and headed for the front door. Trenton followed. As they entered the front foyer of the elegant townhouse, Freddie noticed several large travel trunks.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  Trenton nodded toward the trunks. “Home to Somerset. I’m getting married at the end of the month. This London trip was my final fling before leaping into the arms of wedded bliss. Truth be told, I cannot wait to get out of this god-forsaken city. The stench is bad enough, but the people within it are rotten to the core. If I never set foot within its boundaries again, I shall die a happy man.” He held out a hand to Freddie. “Second sons like you and I can live perfectly happy, purposeful lives, without having to make naked grabs for power and ill-gained wealth. I hope someday you come to that realization. I think deep down you are a better man than your actions have reflected. You need to search for the truth of who you really are.”

  A reluctant Freddie shook his hand. He now understood Trenton’s indifference to the Bachelor Board challenges. He had never intended to win a seat on the board.

  Freddie headed for the front door.

  As the butler opened it, Trenton hurried to Freddie’s side. He took him by the arm and pulled him into a nearby room. “If there is one final piece of advice I would be keen for you to hear, it is that Osmont Firebrace is not a man to be trusted. He and the other members of the Bachelor Board are no friends to you. Firebrace is not the man you think he is—he is pure evil. He will bring you down to a level where you will lose yourself forever.”

  Freddie met his gaze. “I know.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Freddie made it back to Grosvenor Square and proceeded to lay low for the next few days. The swelling around his nose and eyes made it difficult to see.

  He finally made it out of the house and to Covent Garden late in the morning some two days after Francis had done his best to rearrange his face. Being the hour, it was, he knew Hattie and her bodyguards would have come and gone some hours earlier. He made his purchases and headed home.

  After putting his shopping away and feeding Zeus, he emptied his coat pockets of coins and deposited them onto the kitchen table. Among the coins he found a small folded up piece of paper.

  He frowned, unable to recall where the paper had come from. He unfolded it and let out a small. “Ah.”

  St John’s Church, High Street, Holborn

  Hattie Saunders’s soup kitchen was based out of the church. He read the address a second time. It wasn’t too far a walk to High Street, similar to the distance he had regularly walked to the House of Commons.

  She was the one person in London he did know who might give him a fair hearing. Hattie had offered for him to come to the church. To share a meal with her and the parishioners. She was someone who had changed her life, and now led an existence with meaning and purpose.

  Trenton’s words rang in his ears. You need to search for the truth of who you really are.

  It was a humbling thought that the two people he had ridiculed the most were the very same people who seemed to know him best.

  His face was still a bruised mess, but no doubt Hattie would already know the cause of his injuries when she saw him. He closed his eyes, sending out a silent prayer. If he was to seek a way back to the Freddie he had once been, he would have to find a new path to tread.

  “Sorry, Zeus. I don’t think they would appreciate you coming in and trying to eat their supper. You shall have to stay here,” he said.

  He jammed a chair against the door to keep Zeus from going upstairs while he was gone. He put his coat on, ruing the fact Eve had bought him a dog who could open doors.

  “Try to be good. If you cannot, I would appreciate you don’t start chewing on any new pieces of my mother’s furnishings. You have made a mess of enough of them already.”

  He closed the door behind him, in the full knowledge Zeus would have the door open by the time he got to the garden gate. His mother would kill him when she found out what the dog had done to her favourite couch.

  The church was not as easy to find as he had thought it would be. Freddie walked past it before he realized the simple stone-fronted building was in fact a house of worship. He stood outside for a short while, unsure whether he should go inside.

  The thought that going home would only give more credence to Trenton’s opinion of him being a coward kept him from turning on his heel and leaving. Finally, he mustered up enough courage and pulled on the brass handle of the solid oak front door.

  Once inside he found himself standing in a simple, but well-kept church. He had been half expecting to find beggars on the front steps and homeless families asleep inside. There were little of the trappings of the wealthier churches such as St George’s, Hanover Square, where his parents attended when they were in town. The windows were plain glass, with no expensive leadlight to add color to the room. Two small vases with red roses were the only sign of decoration. A fire burnt in a nearby hearth, adding a little warmth to the place. While it lacked the towering gilt-edged columns and highly polished wood of St George’s, St John’s still had a dignity about it.

  He walked farther inside, unsure of himself. He wasn’t certain as to why he was there; what he did know was that he had been drawn by the promise of change.

  The door to the right of the chapel opened, and Hattie stepped inside. She had a basket filled with vegetables in her hands, which was clearly heavy from the way she struggled to carry it. Freddie hurried to her side and quickly relieved her of the heavy burden.

  �
�Thank you. I am very pleased to see you,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow. Her gaze fell on his bruised face, and a flush of red burnt on his cheeks. “Oh dear, it’s as ugly as I thought it might be. How is the face healing?”

  “The swelling has gone down, and I can sleep on my back once more. Other than that, it is as well as can be expected. Not that I deserve anything less than what Francis dished out,” he replied.

  She shook her head and tut-tutted softly.

  “If you would be so kind as to bring the basket, I will show you the kitchen,” she said.

  He followed her out to a room that ran off the side of the church. It was very similar to the kitchen at his home, but with a much bigger fireplace. Over the fireplace hung two large pots, the contents of which were giving off a heady aroma. Soup.

  His stomach growled loudly.

  Hattie chuckled. “Here, put the basket down and grab a bowl. The afternoon meal will be served in an hour so you have time to eat before the hungry hordes from the St Giles rookery arrive on our doorstep.”

  When he hesitated with embarrassment, Hattie took a ladle and filled up a bowl before handing it to him. “Go on. You look like you could do with a hot meal.”

  Freddie sat down at the table, and she took a seat opposite where she began to peel onions.

  “I find if I get a head start on the evensong meal about now, we can get everyone fed and out of the church by just after nine o’clock. Will gets impatient with me if I come home any time after ten,” she said.

  Freddie nodded as he put his spoon to his mouth and tasted the soup. A hot meal was something he had not enjoyed for some time. The moment the soup touched his tongue he felt his mood lift.

  “This is really good,” he remarked.

  Hattie looked at him from over her pile of onions. “I’ve been making it for quite some time now—I’ve lost count of the number of batches. Though, I must confess, it has risen substantially in quality since Will began supporting the soup kitchen. We now have barley, meat, and herbs in it. The old mix was rather watery.”

  Freddie took a second mouthful. The comforting warmth seeped deep into his bones.

  “I see you didn’t bring your dog with you,” she said.

  “No. Zeus is at home probably destroying something else with those sharp teeth of his,” he replied.

  Hattie nodded.

  “Zeus? So, you took my words to heart about the dog’s name being ridiculous. I think this new name suits him much better. I expect he is grateful. Well done, Freddie.”

  He smiled. It was strangely comforting to sit with a friendly person and talk. He missed the simple pleasure of being with friends and family.

  Hattie sat back from the onions and puffed out her cheeks. She sucked in a deep breath before rising quickly from the table and dashing outside. When she returned a few minutes later, her face was flushed and she was wiping tears from her eyes.

  Freddie said nothing but having been at home during the early stages of both of Cecily’s pregnancies, he knew the signs of morning sickness only too well. He pushed his bowl to one side and picked up the knife. He was surprisingly adept at peeling and chopping onions and soon had the pile reduced and sitting on a plate.

  “What else have you got for me to cut and peel?” he asked.

  Hattie pointed to a large basket by the door piled high with carrots and turnips. He lugged the basket over and between the two of them they made short work of the rest of the vegetables.

  The simple action of chopping vegetables brought a rhythmic calm to his troubled mind. By the time they were finished, he was prepared to admit he was actually enjoying himself.

  “I should get the bowls ready,” said Hattie. She went to a nearby cupboard and picked up a pile of wooden bowls, which she brought over to the table.

  Freddie followed suit. “Where did you get all these bowls?” he asked.

  “Will managed to source two hundred for us from the army stores. Before that we had to manage with a lot fewer and people usually had to share. Some of these saw service with the troops on the battlefield at Waterloo … as did he,” she said.

  Freddie stopped momentarily piling bowls on the table. He knew Will had been an agent for the crown in Paris during the war, but it had never occurred to him that Eve’s brother would have actually been in the midst of the final fight to topple Napoleon. “Will fought at Waterloo?”

  “He didn’t actually draw his sword. He wasn’t stationed with any of the regular regiments; he was a special operative. He brought news to the allied command of Napoleon’s troop movements and suspected battle plans,” she replied.

  Eve had said little of Will’s role during the war. Will Saunders had risked his life for his country, and an ass such as Freddie Rosemount had had the cheek to play the fool in front of him. He took a slow, deep breath in as a powerful sense of shame filled his heart.

  Hattie hummed a happy tune to herself as she worked, leaving Freddie to make yet another promise that his selfish, self-centered days were a thing of the past. Trenton Embry had been right about second sons being able to live useful and purpose-filled lives. He needed to find his true path forward.

  They had just finished piling the bowls and spoons onto the table when the first of the local parishioners arrived for their supper. Hattie and Freddie stationed themselves near the large pots of soup and soon had an orderly procession of hungry people rotating through the church.

  A young lad no older than five held up his bowl and smiled a toothless grin. Freddie leant over and gave his dark brown hair a friendly ruffle while Hattie filled the boy’s bowl with soup. Freddie picked up a large piece of bread and handed it to the boy, whose eyes lit up at the unexpected bounty.

  “You need a big piece so you can grow tall and strong,” he said.

  The lad headed over to a nearby table with his soup and bread in hand, and Freddie stood and watched for a moment as he tucked eagerly into his meal.

  This is worth more than all the finest houses and horses.

  As soon as the first pot of soup was finished, Freddie cleaned it out and filled it with vegetables and barley to begin cooking for the later sitting. When the last of the vegetables went into the pot, he stood back and took in the humbling sight of fifty hungry people all quietly eating soup.

  Hattie came and stood next to him. She reached out and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “Well done, Freddie. You helped to feed all these people. The children will sleep with full bellies tonight because of you.”

  He was humbled by the simple goodness of Hattie Saunders and her selfless endeavors to help strangers. Once he would have dismissed her efforts as being that of a religious zealot, but at no time during the evening had she pressed anyone on the matter of God.

  As she went about her work, he remembered the story of the Good Samaritan. What someone did in their life was the most important thing of all, not what they said they should do. All his puff and bluster about wanting to be a member of the Bachelor Board meant little when it had been about himself. Shame was one thing but knowing the pain he had caused his family—and especially Eve—stung him hard. The poor of London seated at the tables eating a meal made with honesty and love had more honor than him.

  “I would like to come here every day and help, if you will have me,” he said. The lump in his throat made speaking difficult, while the tears in his eyes had him blinking hard.

  “Of course, we will have you. No one is ever turned away from St John’s; this is a house of God. We accept all those in need, not just the hungry,” she replied.

  He turned to her, and it finally dawned on him why he had come. He was in need. In need of a way to find himself again. To earn forgiveness from his family. To find the strength to face Eve once more.

  “Can I go to the market for you in the mornings? I can meet your footmen there and have the fresh supplies here by the time you arrive.” It would not be polite to mention Hattie’s delicate condition. If he went to the market early in the morning
and got supplies, Hattie would be able to rest at home until later.

  “It is an early start, and I have to admit it is becoming a bit of a struggle at the moment. An extra hour or so of sleep would be wonderful but are you sure you want to take on such a responsibility?” she replied.

  “Yes, I am certain. Though, I think …” He stopped for a moment, unsure of himself. This was about more than just himself. He was re-forging his connection with the Saunders family. While Hattie may have been able to forgive his transgressions, there were others who may not. “I think … I mean, I would like to have Will’s blessing about this matter as well. I know this is your soup kitchen, but he is Eve’s brother and I behaved terribly toward her. It would mean a lot to me to know he approves of our arrangement or is at least aware of it.”

  Hattie looked at Freddie, her face a study in seriousness. “Of course. If there is one thing Will and I completely agree on, it’s that we do not have secrets we withhold from one another. It took us long enough to come to that realization when we first met, and I would never do anything to give him cause to doubt me now.”

  Her words took him by surprise. He had assumed that Will and Hattie were a simple enough love story, but it would appear that they too had not had an easy journey into wedded bliss.

  She read the look on his face. “One day, I shall tell you the story of Will and I. It began far from London. Make enough pots of soup and you will earn it. In the meantime, we had better get ready for the next group of hungry mouths.”

  “Thank you. I promise I won’t let you down,” he replied.

  Hattie went over to the large pot of soup and stirred in some more herbs. Freddie headed out to the tables and began to make his way around, collecting bowls and talking to the parishioners.

  Late that evening, he finally dried the last of the clean soup bowls and closed the door of the church behind them, then helped Hattie to her waiting carriage. He politely refused her offer of a ride home, knowing he needed the walk.