“What is the total loss?” he whispered, his eyes roving the small, dark office until they settled on a brass and mahogany spyglass, aimed out the window at the harbor.
“The Caribbean Company losses totaled more than eighty thousand pounds. When your partner sold his shares, it filled the market and lowered the value. Then without his funds involved and without you making payments in the interim, your profits from the Delaware business began covering the debt.”
“So you’re saying…” Lord Thornshire whispered, his shoulders sagging and his hands falling to the arms of the chair uselessly, “…that I’m ruined.”
Davids did not speak for a few moments, allowing the Earl to recover from the news. Finally, he spoke up enough to say, “No, not entirely. Not if you can cover the amount that is owed to the Crown.”
“And how much is that?” the older man asked, sounding hopeful for the first time since receiving the news.
“Once the Crown profits from the sale of your ships and other equipment, takes possession and auctions your buildings in both of the American ports and your home-side properties at port here, and then receives payment for the final shipments that are already underway, that leaves you only owing…” Davids paused to scribble on a piece of foolscap with the nub of a well-worn lead. “…fifty thousand pounds.”
Lord Thornshire clutched at his chest so suddenly that Davids called to a clerk to bring a pitcher of water. The Earl stammered to himself like a madman for a few moments, then asked miserably, “Fift… fifty thousand pounds? Where am I to get fifty thousand pounds when my partner has abandoned me and the King now owns every nail of my ships? Everything I’ve worked for is gone!”
“Forgive me, My Lord, but do you not possess any properties, estates, other holdings you might sell?” Davids asked, but he shrunk back from the vicious look of rage the Earl cast towards him.
“Sell my home? Turn my wife and daughter out on the streets? See my beautiful child, the only one of three to survive to adulthood, cast out and working as a governess for only the price of her room and board? Then what, she may die alone and starving as an old woman having had no wages and pension to speak of? Is that what you’re suggesting I do?” Lord Thornshire demanded, rising up from his chair with renewed vigor, spurred on by his anger at the situation.
“I beg your pardon, My Lord, that was not my intention at all,” Davids answered humbly. “I am terribly sorry for this entire situation, but I have my orders. I’ve presented you with the bills for your debts, and I wish you every measure of good luck in someday recovering your fortune.”
Davids rose and bowed slightly, sufficiently dismissing the Earl. He nodded to a clerk who appeared with the older man’s hat and coat, signifying that he was to leave at once.
Edgar Alden, Earl of Thornshire, looked down at the coat and hat and seemed almost to not recognize them. They were the fine cloth and stylish cut of a man who had great wealth, but now, he was almost loath to touch them. He almost feared he would be called an imposter for putting them on and walking the streets back to his carriage—his fine, hand-carved carriage—that would carry him home.
Home. The Earl scoffed at the thought of his estate, and for a moment both Davids and the clerk watched him warily in case he prove mad. His laughter turned to a single, silent, choking sob, though, when he thought of his daughter at that home. She no doubt waited for him to return, having begged him only that morning not to be gone too long. What would she think of him now when she learned that he had been a fool in business?
She must never know! The Earl grimly took his effects and left the small office. I will do whatever I must to see that my failure does not bring scandal and ruin on her prospects!
“Lady Luciana! We must hurry if we wish to be home before nightfall,” Christina said, chiding Luci gently. “We’ve made countless rounds of the Carriage Drive and already stopped to speak to three households. How much longer shall we stall?”
“We’re not stalling,” Luci replied absently, still watching the road ahead of them. “I just have no wish to sit in that stifling house and sew at my needlepoint, not when we can be out in the fresh air and seeing who else has come out for the afternoon.”
“It’s the ‘who else’ I’m fearful of,” the governess answered, looking sideways at her charge.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Luci asked, turning to look at Christina, but her governess did not answer. Instead, another voice called out, diverting their attention.
“Lady Luciana!” Bradley called out from the adjacent Rotten Row. “What a wonderful happenstance, I feared I would not know anyone out riding today!” Bradley said, pulling his stallion up alongside their phaeton. He tipped his hat politely. “Lady Luciana. Miss Ross, as always.”
“Good to see you as well, Lord Stillscar,” Christina answered for them, “though I cannot help but believe it is more than fate that contrived to bring us all out together today.” She looked at Luci, and added, “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“No, I don’t agree,” Luci replied with a smile. “I rather think it’s astounding how even the Fates wish for us to have a pleasant afternoon with wonderful company.”
Bradley grinned at Luci’s obvious disagreement with her chaperone, but Christina only rolled her eyes.
“Lord Stillscar,” Luci said, turning her attention to him, “I find that I’ve ridden all afternoon, though. I’m very nearly sluggish from the passage. I think I should benefit from a walk to the Serpentine if you would care to join us.”
“Of course. I’ll be along after I engage a boy to tend my horse.” Bradley turned and rode a short distance away and dismounted, handing off the reins to one of the many street children who gladly accepted a coin to watch a gentleman’s horse.
“What are you up to?” Christina asked, her threatening voice nearly a hiss.
“Nothing. It’s only as I said, I should like to go for a walk, that’s all.” She smirked at her governess and directed the driver to stop a short distance ahead.
Luci disembarked from the phaeton and strolled slowly toward the path that followed the Serpentine. Other members of the ton were milling about in twos and threes, and Bradley soon joined Luci on the path that led to the ornate lake. Boats drifted on the water, many rowed by young gentlemen eager to show their prowess to their peers.
Christina scowled but she walked behind, close enough to serve as chaperone but distant enough to afford the pair some privacy. She seemed oblivious to their talk but every so often would snap her head up to decipher some word or phrase that caused her alarm.
For her part, Luci was thrilled that Bradley had gotten her message, sent with a stable boy in exchange for a small sum. Now, with them walking the footpath in full view, her plan was unfolding nicely.
“Bradley, I wondered if you’d forgotten your promise to send word to me this week past. I’ve been taken with such loneliness in the many days since Bette’s affair,” she said, feigning a slight pout.
“I’m so very sorry, my dear,” he answered quietly, nodding at someone who caught his eye across the path. “I’ve been away, finishing some urgent business. But I have wonderful news for you.”
“Oh, you mustn’t tease me,” Luci answered coyly. “There is no news so wonderful as hearing that you would be in the park today and able to join me for my ride.”
“Is that so? Then I shall not tell you my news and spoil your happiness,” Bradley teased, risking an adoring look in her direction. “Anything I have to share of my business must be minor in comparison.”
“No! I was wrong,” Luci cried. “Tell me what wonderful news of your business!”
Bradley laughed out loud, earning a reproving clearing of Christina’s throat. He looked over his shoulder and nodded to the governess, then said softly, “I have completed one of the deals I’ve been working on, and it has put my fortune in rather good stead.”
“Truly?” Luci asked softly, tears of happiness pooling in the corners of her dark brown eyes. “
So you’re that much closer to speaking to Father?”
“That I am, my dear,” he assured her. “I cannot envision asking a man of such great esteem as your father to willingly bless and approve a match that is so far beneath his fortune… and your great worth. It shall not be long now, but every day I grow closer to having the sort of standing that I could proudly stand before him and ask for your hand.”
“I’ve no wish to argue with your great announcement, Bradley, but you know that I care not about these things,” she said kindly. “Father has a fortune sufficient for both of us. It is honorable that you wish to ensure that you can support a wife and a family, but I am not in love with a ledger book! I wish to marry the sort of man that you are, in great measure.”
Bradley turned to look at Luci full on, smiling broadly as if to show that he cared not a whit who should see them. For her part, Luci was equal parts overjoyed that his business dealings were nearly finished but also that a great number of people had seen them walking in the park, accompanied by a chaperone no less. It would take only one or two of the right people to begin talking about them, and then Bradley would not have to wait to speak to her father; Father would see to it that Bradley made an offer within the day after escorting her in public.
Too soon, there was no longer an excuse to be away from home. Christina strongly hinted that the hour was growing late, and Bradley said his goodbyes. As soon as the phaeton pulled away from the Carriage Drive, the governess pounced.
“What do you think you were playing at, arranging such a ‘chance’ encounter in full view of the ton?” Christina hissed, trying to keep their driver from overhearing. “Without your parents’ approval, that was a foolhardy thing to do! What shall you do if word gets back to them?”
“That was my very intention,” Luci replied, an aloof look on her face as she placidly looked out at the countryside. “When they hear that I was set upon by an Earl and seen by quite a few of the better families, they’ll take pains to ensure that they seem approving. Father may even insist that Lord Stillscar come to dine.”
“Oh, really? And what is your devious plan should they reject the notion?” Christina pressed. “What if they insist that the bearer of this tidy bit of gossip was mistaken, and that no daughter of theirs would ever venture such a public outing without their knowledge and express approval?”
Luci blanched. That had not occurred to her, not given the way her parents approved of her every whim. What if she had accidentally brought a dark cloud of suspicion on her family? That had not been her intention at all!
“Well, we’ll just have to hope that Lord Stillscar hurries in his business endeavors and asks for my hand before any of the tongues can wag,” Luci said, too elated with her outing to allow any concern to dampen her spirits.
“You’re impossible,” Christina muttered. “The lengths you would go to in order to marry a simple country earl?”
Luci squared her shoulders but glowered slightly at Christina. “You have no idea how far I’m willing to go for the man I love.”
Chapter 4
“This will only pinch slightly, My Lord,” the physician, Sir Rawlings, said as he held the metal instrument over Gideon’s leg.
Gideon remained silent, fearful that if he dared to utter a response he would embarrass himself greatly. His injuries in the fire had taken well over a year to heal, and now the resulting scars pained him horribly. When Sir Rawlings had said there were treatments which could alleviate much of the pain, Gideon had willingly agreed.
Yet now he found himself wishing he’d never given Derwall leave to force him to endure this appointment. It had been one agonizing prod after another, just as Gideon had feared.
The needle slid beneath the skin and Gideon gritted his teeth, shoving his fingernails into his palms. It went on for a horrendously long time, and just when he thought he could endure it no more, Sir Rawlings slid the needle back out and dabbed at the speck of blood with a cloth.
“There, that should take effect in only a few minutes. Once it becomes numb to the touch, you’ll have a much easier time enduring the therapy,” the physician promised.
Gideon breathed deeply, trying to quell the nausea that rose up in his stomach. He nodded, though, grateful to the physician for understanding the intensity of the pain that the burned nerves still suffered.
“It is a very real syndrome, despite what any know-nothings with a medical bag and some opium might tell you,” Sir Rawlings had said when he was first consulted. “Medical science now understands that the damage to the nerves, such as with a severe burn or even an amputation, can very nearly ‘trick’ the brain into believing the limb is still aflame or still attached.”
Gideon had thought it sounded like quackery at first, but when other learned acquaintances confirmed the very same research, he decided that anything would be better than continuing in this way.
“Now, I am ready to work on your leg,” Sir Rawlings said, prodding the immense scars gently with his fingertips and noting how the patient registered no sensation. “The intention is to stretch the skin to release the nerves that have been trapped by the healing tissue.”
“Will it hurt the way your needle did?” Gideon asked hesitantly, dreading the confirmation of his concern.
“Absolutely not, My Lord,” the physician replied happily. “The needle not only numbs the leg, but it will actually remain painless later into the evening. Do not be alarmed if the sensation does not return for several hours, in fact.”
Sir Rawlings set to work, and Gideon found himself bemused that he had ever been fearful of this sort of treatment. He’d tended to his wounds with such delicate care, making effort to never risk further injury. He was actually pleased when the hour was up and the physician declared himself finished for the day.
“It will take a day more to see what amount of pain you feel once the treatment has worn off,” he explained, “but then another week longer before you should know if there is any improvement to the motion and the enduring pain. Once that week has passed, we’ll arrange to do this again and assess what improvement there is.”
Gideon thanked the physician profusely and bade him return in a week’s time. Derwall couldn’t stop smiling as he showed Sir Rawlings out, thanking him surreptitiously at the front door for all that he’d done.
“That went rather well, did it not, My Lord?” Derwall asked when he returned to Gideon’s chambers.
“It did, yes,” he answered. “I’m pleased with how it went, I need only wait to see if I’m eating those words later this evening.”
“Have no fear, My Lord. The physician left instructions for warm compresses and laudanum if there is any discomfort.” Assured that there was nothing else he needed to do, Derwall bowed and left the room.
Gideon fell back against the bed, relishing the sensation of feeling nothing in his injured leg for once. It was disconcerting, the ability to see and touch his leg but gain no sense from it, but it was a vast improvement over the brutal scorch he typically felt all day and night.
The relief was not the only surprise. Gideon was also in a much better mood, a better state of mind even, now that he wasn’t endlessly plagued by his leg. He was now looking forward to seeing the builder for a third time, eager to see the renovations completed. He was even looking forward to the interviews for a housekeeper that were to take place that afternoon.
Gideon thought back to the other appointments he’d arranged that day, thankfully very few as he hadn’t known how he would feel following his visit from the physician. He still needed to inquire about a stablemaster and meet with the breeder he’d contacted. He felt certain he could accomplish those tasks without causing himself any harm.
“My Lord, the breeder has arrived ahead of schedule as he caught an earlier carriage from the port,” Derwall said, hesitating. “If you are not yet recovered, I can bid him wait or offer him some refreshment. Perhaps I could take him to see the current state of the stables and inquire about his thoughts on
improving them?”
“Thank you, Derwall, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” Gideon answered, sitting up and smiling. “I think… I think I’m able to get up.”
“That is marvelous news, My Lord,” the butler agreed. “I will have him wait in the drawing room, and tell him you’ll be along shortly.”
“Very good,” Gideon said, already limping across the room to the chair and retrieving his coat. “I think I shall pace for a bit though, just to be certain it doesn’t pain me on the way down.”
Derwall nodded and Gideon was alone again, still grinning at this new progression. Inwardly, he chastised himself for putting off such a helpful procedure out of nothing more than fear. It made him question what else he had needlessly put off, and become determined to see those important details through.
A Court of Thorns for Lady Ambergrave: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 3