Not Just Lovely Laura

by Jessica Spencer

  Anthony went back to writing the letter to his steward. An old tenant had met with some misfortune and had appealed for help.

  “Say, ring the bell, Coz. My throat is parched. I could do with some of that brandy you inherited.”

  “Why are you here, Lancing?”

  Philip adjusted his cravat and smirked. “Ah! That's what I like about you. You come to the point. I'm here about your brat.”

  Before Philip knew it, Anthony was looming over him. “Keep away from Mary Jane!” he snarled and gripped Philip's shoulder.

  “Unhand me or else I'll tell everyone about your bye-blow!”

  Anthony's grip tightened until Philip winced. Anthony suddenly let go causing him to slump forward. He rubbed his shoulder and glared at Anthony, who was back in his chair, looking every inch the powerful duke that he was.

  “Speak!”

  “I know you have a brat in the foundling home. Never expected it of you. Truth be told, I like you the better for it! But I have pockets to let. Can you believe I have to sneak into my rooms like a thief? I'm in dun territory, Coz.”

  Anthony watched him impassively. He knew the wheedling tone wouldn't last. Philip had a notorious temper. He flared up when he was thwarted.

  “Coz?”

  “What do you want, Phillip?”

  “A small matter. Pay my debts and give me twenty thousand pounds. My lips will remain sealed. Your secret will go with me to my grave.”

  “Your secret isn't worth that much. It isn't worth anything at all.”

  “Doing it too brown, Coz! I went to the foundling home. The old bird didn't let me see the brat. She told me you hadn't left a child at the home. She lied through her teeth but she wasn't good enough. She went as white as a sheet.”

  “Your secret is worth nothing because I mean to see that the child placed in Mrs. Forsyth's care is acknowledged. I will be going to Harrogate, to speak to my mother about her. So you see, it won't be a secret anymore.”

  “Stop trying to bam me. You've always been a high stickler. You wouldn't want the scandal.”

  “That's precisely why I'm doing this. I want justice to be done to the child.”

  Philip pulled out a creased handkerchief and dabbed at his brow.

  “Will that be all?” Anthony asked, reaching for the bell.

  “Wait!” Philip said, a look of cunning dawning on his face. “Your wife used to say you were fastidious. She even called you a prig. You wouldn't dally with a servant. The mother of the child must have been a lady! A lady who was unable to pass off the brat as her husband's.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Fanny! You were always soft on her. I remember when we were boys, you liked to play the little gentleman for her benefit. You even hit me when I tried to steal a kiss! This is rich! Margaret was worried about her indiscretions because she thought you wouldn't put up with them. If she knew she would have lived a happier woman. Perhaps she wouldn’t have died.”

  “What do you mean?” Anthony demanded.

  “Remember I told you I had a secret? I thought to barter it for my debts and ten thousand pounds. It matters not now. I've had a change of heart. Lady Margaret lived the life she wanted. Moreover, she paid me for my silence out of her ample pin money. It would be dishonest to break my seal of secrecy. So how about this? You pay my debts, give me twenty thousand pounds, and the country house at Hertfordshire. I know you have no use for it. In turn, my lips shall remain sealed about the brat you sired with Fanny.”

  This time Anthony rang the bell. “If Lord Lancing has difficulty in finding his way out, you may use the services of a footman or two. If he comes again, you have my orders to bar him from entering the house.”

  Philip glared at Anthony and stomped out. Anthony ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. He had never felt such fury. Another minute and he would have been at Philip’s throat.

  He started to pace the library floor. As the minutes ticked by, his anger turned into an icy fear. Now what? If Philip was only after money, he would wait and try again. But there was much more mixed up. Jealousy and hatred and revenge. If he did what he threatened, Fanny would be ruined. Once again, he would be the cause of her troubles.

  Mary Jane was still young. The scandal could fade away by the time she was a young woman. It wasn’t uncommon for illegitimate offspring to be acknowledged.

  And if Philip slandered Lady Margaret, her brothers would take care of it. They were a powerful family. In this whole mess, the ones to suffer the most would be Fanny and Annie. They were both innocent and did not deserve to face the consequences of his bullheadedness.

  He cringed at the thought of paying Philip for his silence. He knew once he started, Philip would continue to make demands. But he needed to buy time. If only Fanny would agree to wed some eligible gentleman, all would be well.

  Before he could pen a note to Philip, a footman came in, bearing a card on a silver tray. Anthony raised an eyebrow on reading the caller’s name. “Show his lordship in here,” he said.

  Andrew, Earl of Nethercote, came in a few minutes later.

  “This is most unexpected. Delightful but unexpected,” Anthony said, extending his hand in greeting.

  The Earl of Nethercote was a close friend. He had inherited his title at a young age. Along with the title, he had also acquired a mountain of debts and estates badly in need of repair. Everyone expected him to marry an heiress or the daughter of a wealthy Cit to remedy the state of affairs. He had shocked them when he had chosen to go into trade and infuriated them by making a pile of money.

  “It has been an age since we met,” Anthony said, after making his friend comfortable with a glass of madeira.

  “I don't spend much time in England. I have been fortunate in my choice of steward. He puts to good use the funds I send from America. Finally, the manor house has regained its noble appearance from the veritable ruin it had become. Tenants who had left in my sire's time have returned.”

  “So I've heard. Lord Dunn was foaming at the mouth about it. He had prophesied a dark future for you. He wanted you to wed his daughter. He still feels slighted that you preferred to make your own fortune rather than repair your family's fortunes with a handsome dowry.”

  “Like you, I wanted to marry for love. All of us had strong ideas. Gareth was fond of saying ...”

  “Love is a quagmire. And yet, love has found him. He and Lady Maria are very much in love.”

  “You were also fortunate. You found Lady Margaret in the very first Season.”

  Anthony thought better than to disabuse his friend. It was no surprise Nethercote thought his to be a love match. He had thought so himself.

  “I'm sorry for your loss. You lost her very soon. It was a difficult year, wasn’t it? First Lady Margaret, and six months later, your father.”

  Anthony sighed. “Our family has seen many deaths in the recent past. A year before my father’s demise, his younger brother and son died in a tragic fire that killed ten other people. A month later, my brother was dead. The shock of his death caused my father to have a stroke. The physician warned us that his days were numbered.”

  “I read that Edward died in a boating accident.”

  “That is what we call it. His friends couldn't tell us how he drowned. They were in their cups, all of them. They assumed Edward had taken it into his head to go out on the lake. Being inebriated, he had been unable to manage the boat. But Edward was not one for stirring away from the bottle. He also had a good head. His favorite pastime was to drink others under the table.”

  “I've always noticed how unlike the two of you were. Edward liked to drink and to chase anything in a petticoat. You were always trying to do the right thing. Edward was into enough scraps for the two of you. Wherever he went, scandal was certain to follow.”

  Anthony steepled his fingers. “I'm afraid you will revise your opinion very soon. I shall acknowledge a child currently housed in a foundling home.”

  Lord Nethercote’s eyebrow rose by
a fraction before he resumed his habitual bored expression. “Like I said, always trying to do the right thing.”

  “There's more. My heir plans to drag in a lady into the mess. I doubt her reputation will survive it. The ton will forgive a duke much but will literally rip a woman to shreds.”

  “Would you care to share the lady's identity?”

  “I don’t think you know her. Lady Mannering hasn’t moved much in Polite Society.”

  Lord Nethercote flicked a speck from his immaculate coat sleeve. “If my memory serves me right, Lady Mannering is Baron Rowley’s daughter. She made a brief appearance during one Season.”

  “The same. Philip was here before you. He told me he knows about the child. He will spread the word that Lady Mannering is the child's mother and had played her husband for a cuckold.”

  Lord Nethercote’s look of boredom was replaced by one of keen interest. “Why will he say that?”

  “He has debts. He wants me to pay them and to give him twenty thousand pounds.”

  “Why will he say Lady Mannering is the child's mother? Why did he pick her?”

  Anthony ran a hand through his hair. “A shot in the dark. He thinks I'm too particular to consort with a serving maid. Recently there have been rumors linking me to Lady Mannering. The gossip arose because I called on her after she came to London. That made him assume it is her.”

  “But it isn't?” Lord Nethercote persisted, his eyes boring into Anthony's.

  Anthony rubbed his temple and stared out of the window.

  “Is he true in his assumption?” Nethercote asked again.

  Anthony sighed. “I had better tell you the whole of it. It will be in the strictest of confidence. I’m telling you because I fear I may need the help of friends. Gareth already knows but he is now a married man. He has to divide his time between his friends and his wife.”

  Starting with the night the stranger accosted him at his house, Anthony told Nethercote everything. When he finished, Nethercote gave a low whistle. “I must say you are handling it well. What do you plan to do now?”

  “I must pay Philip. I can't do anything to help Lady Mannering if he spreads the rumor.”

  “From what you have told me, I won't put it beyond him to take your money and blacken your name and the lady’s. Why don't you leave Lancing to me? I'll give him a thrashing he won't forget. He's a bully and a thug. I know how to deal with cowards like him.”

  In spite of the worry nagging him, Anthony smiled. Nethercote had always been very good with his fists. When they were at Eton, he had often tackled the bullies harassing Gareth about his mother.

  “Your plan might work. If it doesn’t, we shall think of something else.”

  “Whereat may I find the rascal?”

  Anthony gave him the directions to Philip’s rooms and the disreputable club he favored.

  “I'll go to his rooms first,” Lord Nethercote said, pocketing the sheet of paper.

  “I have to see Mr. Morrison about the papers. He is a windbag and will dawdle if I don’t pay him a visit. I also have some business at the children’s home. I had hoped to leave for Harrogate by tomorrow. I thought to engage a nurse and remove Annie to White Willow on my return from Harrogate. Lancing has put my plans to disarray. I cannot leave London until I am assured of Lady Mannering’s safety.”

  “The weasel will not harm Lady Mannering. You have my word for it,” Lord Nethercote said, looking grim.

  ***

  Mr. Morrison was still drafting the papers. And Mrs. Forsyth was away for two days. He had wanted her help in engaging a nurse for Annie. Fortunately, her assistant knew a couple of women who would be interested in the post. She promised to send them over to Anthony’s townhouse between eleven and one the following afternoon. He did not ask to see Annie. He guessed she was in the schoolroom with the other children.

  Anthony directed the coachman to Philip’s rooms. Nethercote was capable of handling Philip but his cousin had a mean streak. It would be better if they tackled him together.

  Nethercote was outside Philip’s lodging. “Lancing hasn't been here for the last three days. The landlord fears he has left without paying his shot. I’m going to his club.”

  “I'm coming with you,” Anthony said, dismissing his carriage.

  The club was the type of gambling hell that attracted gentlemen who were blackballed from better clubs. The doorman was an insolent fellow but jumped aside at Anthony's curt order. The smell of stale alcohol and tobacco hung heavy in the room. The club would come alive at night but even during the afternoon, a game was in progress at one table. Philip wasn't in sight.

  The owner sniggered. “He'll come when he has some blunt.”

  “Who are his friends?” Nethercote asked.

  “The Hon. Harry Brent and Lord Caddy may know where to find him. They used to run a scam of sorts a few years ago.”

  Anthony and Nethercote split up. Anthony went in search of Harry Brent and Nethercote after Lord Caddy. An hour later they met at White’s.

  “Caddy saw him yesterday. He was in the company of a lawyer. Shady looking fellow. Philip told Caddy that he would soon be flush in the pocket.”

  “Harry Brent also mentioned the lawyer. He doesn’t know the man’s name. Said he looked rather shabby, smiled a lot, and had a gold tooth.”

  “I fear he is hiding in the commercial district. The place is worse than a maze.”

  “Why is he hiding? Do you think he means to strike?” Nethercote asked.

  “He must be hiding from his creditors. I can’t say what he will do. He was always a loose cannon.”

  “We have scoured all his haunts. If he has the lawyer fellow helping him, he may be playing a deep game.”

  “We need to bring in a professional. I know just the man,” Anthony said.

  Anthony called for notepaper and writing material and penned a note. Enclosing a bank note that was more than adequate to cover the fee and expenses, he sent it to the runner.

  “Now what?” Nethercote asked.

  “Now we keep our ears open. At the first whisper of scandal, we follow it to its source. It should lead us to Philip.”

  “What of Lady Mannering?”

  “It's best I pay her a visit. She isn't happy about being in London but her circumstances have forced her to take up residence with her cousin.”

  “Do you mean to say Mannering didn't leave her comfortably settled? The man was plump in the pocket. What about the marriage settlement? Didn't her father and brothers see to it that her interests were protected?”

  “Her father is deceased. I presume she doesn't want to make a home with either of her brothers,” Anthony said and changed the topic. He had no business discussing Fanny's affairs. He could only blame the lapse on his anxiety for her.

  Lord Nethercote had no such scruples. “I am sorry to hear that. I would like to be of service to her. If I pretend to court her, the gossip surrounding both of you will die.”

  “What's your reason? Though I doubt she will agree.”

  “I want to make amends. When Lady Fanny was pilloried with unpleasant jests, I was a willing party. I can take a large share of the blame for her sudden departure from London.”

  Anthony nodded. “I'll see what I can do. She's proud. She might not agree to a charade of this nature.”

  Nethercote might be able to make amends for his boorish act. Would he be able to set right the wrong he had done? He was the reason for all that she had undergone during her first season.

  “I meant to call on Daventon today. I shall have to put it off for tomorrow,” Nethercote said.

  “He will be delighted. It is an age since any one of us saw you.”

  “I remember his sister was devoted to him. She would write to him every week.”

  “Lady Laura is the best of sisters. She is kind and courageous, and unaffected. She is like a breath of fresh air, cleansing and energizing. You won't find her playing the coquette or resorting to artifice. I hope she doesn't fall pre
y to the practiced charms of a rogue.”

  Lord Nethercote opened his mouth but stopped. Anthony had a faraway look in his eyes. So that was how matters stood. Wimberley had fallen for the chit.

  “Lady Laura sounds fascinating. I must make her acquaintance,” he said, and was rewarded with a grim look.

  ***

  Anthony stayed up late, nursing a glass of brandy and staring into the library fire. His life was no longer the same. It was four years since his wife had passed away. Four years in which he had mourned the death of his first love, and the death of love itself.

  When he had seen Laura for the first time at his aunt’s ball, he had stared at her as if she was an apparition. He still remembered the enchanting picture she presented in her white and silver gown. Embarrassed when she had caught him gawking, he had hurriedly left. Later, he had suppressed his burgeoning feelings for her. He had found reasons to distance himself. That she was too young. And later, the scandal that threatened his good name was reason enough.

  Deep in his heart, he knew that he feared to marry for love. Margaret had destroyed that faith. He no longer blamed her. She was seventeen then, and an obedient daughter. She did what her sire wanted. She didn’t even think it wrong. How could she? She was a gently bred female. Her duty was to snare a husband.

  Laura was different. She was her own person. She knew her own mind. Only female modesty kept her from baring her heart to him. By denying his feelings, he was denying both of them a chance of happiness.

  He would have to speak to Gareth.

  Chapter 26

  When Anthony summoned his footmen and instructed them to show Lord Lancing the door, Philip put up a belligerent front. But as soon as he was out of the imposing mansion, he furtively looked up and down the tree-lined avenue. He pulled his hat forward and turned up the collar of his coat. Keeping his head low, he briskly walked to the street corner. He was in luck. A hack was idling nearby, looking for a fare. He hopped in and gave directions.

  Philip left the hack in a busy street and plunged into a narrow lane. Passing through a network of alleys and by lanes, he arrived at a decrepit building. Before he could knock, the door creaked open.