Suddenly a St. Clair (The St. Clairs Book 5)

by Alexa Aston

  “And the final one?” Davidson asked.

  “Her cousin, who is now Viscount Morrison. From what she said, he may cause problems. Even though the steam engine and other devices within the house are hers, he might claim they are property of the estate. In fact, my next stop is the warehouse. I promised Lady Mia that I would have wagons sent down tomorrow to collect her projects and bring them straight here. Since she will be coming to London in the next few days, she can be presented with the second contract at that time.”

  The men discussed the final details, including that Matthew had the authority to sign any contracts drawn up on behalf of the family. Once they finished, Hudson and Matthew walked out together.

  “I can’t wait to meet this Lady Mia,” Matthew said. “I’m intrigued by a woman who is so talented in areas where men have always prevailed.”

  For a moment, jealousy flared in Hudson. He quickly tamped it down. Of course, Matthew should meet her. It would be expected.

  Then why did the thought of that—and his friend’s interest—bother Hudson?

  “Can I drop you somewhere?” he asked.

  “No. After sitting so long, I’d like to stretch my legs. I’ll see you later.”

  It was only after Hudson was halfway to the warehouse that he remembered he should have told Matthew about the diagnosis Cor had received. Hudson planned to return to Kent and spend the next few weeks at Eversleigh. He’d stop by tomorrow and see Matthew then to let him know what was planned.

  At the warehouse, he went to Mr. Garson’s office. The man oversaw every aspect of the warehouse. Once more, he explained—though much more briefly—that he had an inventor coming who would need space to work in and storage for a good number of her projects. He and Garson looked at a few places before deciding where to have Mia work.

  “I’ll have the wagons sent first thing in the morning, Mr. St. Clair,” Garson promised. “I’ll direct everything brought back to be placed here. Will this inventor need any certain equipment?”

  “She can decide once she’s in London and has visited the warehouse. I’m sure she’ll need tables to set up what she is working on. Beyond that, I haven’t a clue.”

  “What about production of this steam engine?” Garson asked.

  “I want Lady Mia to put the current model through several tests here before we move into production. Once we do, though, I want this to happen quickly. That means finding an existing place to manufacture this machinery.”

  “I have a good idea what we’ll need. Might I look at a few properties and then recommend a few to you?”

  Hudson had worried about that and was relieved he wouldn’t have to waste additional time in London doing so. Garson had a good eye and drove a hard bargain.

  “I trust you implicitly, Mr. Garson. Go ahead and find where we can locate this factory. Send word to Eversleigh when you do and I can come up for a day or two to see them.”

  “Very well, Mr. St. Clair.”

  His business accomplished, Hudson checked his pocket watch and saw it was a quarter till four. He decided his next stop would be Lord and Lady Trentham’s residence. He checked the address Mia had written on her letter and gave it to his driver. They arrived twenty minutes later. Hudson knocked at the door and presented the butler with his card.

  “I would like to see both Lord and Lady Trentham, if they are available. I have news from Lady Trentham’s niece.”

  “If you’ll wait here, Mr. St. Clair, I’ll see if they are in.”

  He was taken to a small parlor off the foyer and was struck by how different it was from the one he’d waited in this morning at Morris Park. He sighed, thinking about the butler checking to see if the Trenthams were home. If anyone would know of their whereabouts, it would be the butler. The ton had their servants, however, play the game of screening visitors by using that repeated phrase. Since he was a stranger to the Trenthams, he didn’t know if they would see him. If they weren’t home to him, he would leave Lady Mia’s letter with the butler and press him to get it into his employer’s hands as soon as possible.

  The butler reappeared. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. St. Clair.”

  He was led upstairs to the drawing room and announced. The couple was having tea. Hudson went and offered his hand to Lord Trentham and then bowed to his wife.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” he said, pulling out the letter from his coat pocket. “I have a letter for you, my lady, from your niece.”

  Lady Trentham frowned as she took it. She stared at it a moment and then her gaze met his. “What’s wrong, Mr. St. Clair? Who are you and why are you delivering word to me from my niece?”

  “I was at Morris Park today. I had an appointment to meet with Lord Morrison regarding one of his machines.”

  She sniffed. “And how did that go?”

  “Why don’t you read Lady Mia’s letter and then I can clear up any questions you might have?”

  She opened it with trepidation, holding it tilted toward her husband so they could both read it at the same time. Hudson watched her eyes widen and she swallowed. She set the letter in her lap.

  “How did my brother-in-law die?” she demanded. “You needn’t tread softly, Mr. St. Clair. I was at Morris Park only a couple of weeks ago. I know of my brother-in-law’s mental impairment and how ragged Mia was, taking care of her father and the entire estate.”

  “I’m to understand he wandered off on occasion,” Hudson said. “He met with an accident, possibly falling and hitting his head. He was found in a creek.”

  “He drowned?” Lord Trentham asked.

  Hudson nodded.

  “Oh, poor Mia,” Lady Trentham said, her lips trembling. “To lose both her parents. And to have no husband to turn to.” She looked to her husband. “We must go to her tomorrow, Trentham. Bring her back here once the funeral is done.”

  He kept quiet, knowing what this very proper woman might say if he told her that, by now Lord Morrison was already six feet under.

  “Of course, Fanny, dear,” her husband replied.

  “We were to bring Morrison here,” Lady Trentham continued, looking at Hudson. “Now, it will only be Mia.” She brightened. “She’s to have a Season, you know. She’s a pretty girl. Well, not quite a girl, but hopefully some man out there will want her.”

  Then she gasped. “Oh, no. The dowry. There’s no dowry,” she moaned.

  “I thought you said we’d put up your sister’s manor house and use that,” Lord Trentham said, his arm going about her in comfort.

  “That won’t be possible now,” she said. “That greedy little nephew of Morrison’s is the viscount now. The manor house is part of the estate’s holdings. He won’t part with a farthing for Mia. She will be destitute”

  Her words made Hudson all the happier, knowing Mia was taking care of herself, thanks to her inventions.

  “My lord, I told Lady Mia that you would help her engage a solicitor. You see, I have bought her most recent invention, a steam engine. She won’t be without income. I’m having my solicitor ready the contracts as we speak but she’ll need legal advice before signing it.”

  “You bought it?” Lady Trentham asked. “One of those contraptions? Oh, they were simply everywhere when I went to see them. You couldn’t even find a place to sit. It was horrible.”

  “Lady Mia is quite a talented inventor,” Hudson told the woman. “Once I see more of her designs, I may wish to purchase those, as well. The St. Clairs are always looking for innovative ideas.”

  “St. Clair? Are you related to the Duke of Everton?” asked Lord Trentham. “Isn’t he a St. Clair?”

  “Yes, the duke is my older brother,” Hudson said, keeping the details to himself. “I handle a good deal of our family’s business enterprises.”

  “Well, Mia’s ideas must be brilliant, Fanny. Otherwise, Mr. St. Clair would have nothing to do with her or her inventions. St. Clairs don’t throw good money after bad.”

  “It’s just so . . . unsavory, Trentham. A woman. Who wea
rs trousers, for goodness’ sake!” Lady Trentham looked to Hudson. “Please, Mr. St. Clair. Whatever you do, don’t spread word of my niece’s involvement in . . . making . . . these gadgets. It would positively ruin her chances at making any kind of match at all.”

  Hudson thought that true in part. He also believed if Lady Mia was as talented as he suspected—and didn’t have to scrimp on materials as she obviously had in the past due to their financial situation—then she could make a good deal of money with her inventions. That money would draw some men to her like flies. Men who needed ready cash. Men with debts. Suddenly, he worried all over again for her. What if some unsavory rogue married her for the money she brought in?

  He shook his head. Men married for large dowries all the time. This wouldn’t be any different. Once Mia Sloane wed, she would no longer control any money she received. She wouldn’t be able to enter contracts using her own name. Knowing the little he did about her, she might deliberately fail at her Season in order to maintain control of her present and future.

  Still, he politely said, “I never discuss business with others, Lady Trentham. Especially when I find someone as clever as your niece. I wouldn’t want to compete for her services and designs. Have no fear, Polite Society will not hear from any St. Clair regarding Lady Mia’s brilliance.”

  Hudson would not only keep quiet about the business transaction between the St. Clairs and Lady Mia, but he also considered waiting to deliver her letter to her cousin. He thought he would sound Trentham out regarding the idea.

  “My lord, not only did I agree to deliver Lady Mia’s letter to you and your wife, I also have in my possession a letter for the new Viscount Morrison, notifying him of his uncle’s passing. Would it be agreeable to wait a few days before I present it to him?”

  Lord Trentham frowned. “What would be the purpose of the delay, Mr. St. Clair?”

  “It would give your niece a chance to organize and carefully pack her materials. Knowing the viscount would see little value in her devices, I have offered her space for them in one of our warehouses and a position as a consultant. As I mentioned, we may be interested in more than her steam engine. A delay would ensure that everything belonging to Lady Mia would be vacated from the property before the viscount arrived to take possession of the estate.”

  The former diplomat didn’t respond immediately, mulling over Hudson’s words. Finally, he said, “Much as I’d like to give Mia the additional time, I cannot condone holding off on such news. Horatio Sloane is now Viscount Morrison and deserves to be notified of his elevation to the peerage.”

  Hudson wasn’t happy with the man’s decision but he understood why Trentham took such a position. “Very well. Arrangements will be made to have Lady Mia’s personal items immediately withdrawn from the property and delivered to our warehouse. I promise no announcements will be forthcoming regarding my family’s business transactions with your niece. Her Season should be safe.” Lady Trentham seemed slightly mollified by his words. “Very well then, Mr. St. Clair. Thank you for coming.”

  He saw he was being dismissed and rose.

  “Give my best to Lady Mia when you see her,” he said. To Lord Trentham, he added, “The contracts will be delivered here tomorrow. I know Lady Mia will need your sound advice regarding them.”

  “I’m sure they will be more than fair,” the nobleman said. “Thank you for coming and letting us know about Lord Morrison, Mr. St. Clair.”

  He bowed and left the room, returning to his carriage. Hudson didn’t look forward to the next stop.

  The dreaded Cousin Horatio, now Viscount Morrison.

  Chapter Six

  Hudson knew Horatio Sloane from his infrequent visits to London’s gaming hells. He’d first gone to them when he became a St. Clair. Luke told him it was part of his education in becoming a gentleman. Hudson hadn’t corrected his new brother, knowing society would never accept a duke’s bastard as a gentleman. He was curious, though, about the hells and eager to soak up any information from his outgoing brother.

  Luke had given Hudson a stake and then turned him loose. He kept his money in his pocket, not making a single wager the entire night. Instead, he went from table to table, trying to see what the games of chance were about and their rules. When Luke saw Hudson wasn’t going to gamble, he slung an arm about him.

  “If your looks didn’t give away that you are a St. Clair, your shrewdness has. Come, little brother. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about gambling.”

  They had gone to three establishments the next night and Luke had thoroughly explained the rules of the various games to him. The pair had also gone to the card rooms, where Luke murmured in Hudson’s ear about not only the rules but what to watch for. He learned about tells, ways a player would give away what he held in his hand. After another night of observation, Hudson declared he was ready to gamble.

  He tried different games of chance, Luke preaching to him about probability and outcome, and found them a pure form of gambling. His brother also shared ways that the house might cheat its customers and recommended that Hudson stick with cards. He’d told Luke he needed practice before he sat in on a card game, especially because many of the tables had high stakes in order to buy in.

  That had led to Luke gathering Evan and Alex and Evan’s friend, Lord Merrifield, convincing the three to teach the newest St. Clair all the tricks of experienced card players. The men had begun by having hands dealt to them face up in order for Hudson to see every card they held. They explained why they kept certain cards and returned others, drawing two or even three.

  “Three makes you look too needy,” Merrifield proclaimed. “I’ll keep a low card sometimes and exchange two others just so no one will sense I reek of desperation.”

  After a long night of seeing the other players’ hands, Luke determined Hudson was ready for the next step. When they gathered a second time, all cards were dealt face down and the men played accordingly. They would talk through their moves, however, explaining why they took a certain card in order for Hudson to understand their strategies.

  By the third time the men played, they dealt Hudson out. Instead, he stood and circulated, viewing each man’s cards and watching how they played them. After an hour, they allowed him to determine what moves to make.

  Their fourth time to play, Hudson was allowed to sit in. No one showed his cards. No one explained anything. They played for real.

  And Hudson won. Handily.

  “It could be the proverbial beginner’s luck,” Alex observed, “but I think with that luck Hudson displays tremendous skill.”

  “You’re an exceptional player, Hudson,” Evan praised. “He’s ready to go back for a visit to the gaming hells, Luke. Turn a new St. Clair upon the unsuspecting gamblers of London.”

  The next night, Luke did take Hudson back. He was a bit nervous but put all his lessons to good use. He understood when to bluff. When to fold. He watched for the tells of other players and was good at picking up on them. When the night ended, he’d won a decent amount. Not substantial but enough of a profit to return Luke’s stake and have plenty left in his pocket.

  Ever since then, Hudson had gone occasionally to the gaming hells for something different to do. He no longer needed the money since he had plenty of his own. He returned merely to keep his skills sharp. That was where he’d come across Horatio Sloane, now Viscount Morrison. Sloane was a sloppy player who seemingly endorsed no strategy, playing on pure gut and losing more often than not. He had two huge tells. His left eyebrow would raise slightly when his hand was good. He cleared his throat when it wasn’t. Hudson knew him to be in heavy debt to several of the houses and had been surprised when Lady Hortense wed Sloane last year.

  The new viscountess was another matter.

  As a rule, Hudson wasn’t invited to ton events the majority of the time. He might be a St. Clair, but it was on the wrong side of the blanket. Polite Society didn’t include bastards on the invitation list of their social gatherings. O
f course, his St. Clair relatives always were eager for his presence at any event they held. A handful of their friends—Morefield, Merrifield, Rutherford, and Neville—made a point of including him in any activity they sponsored. The men and their wives had always been gracious to him. Their guests tolerated his presence, the men more than the women. The men talked horses and boxing and Hudson had boxed against many of them at Gentleman Jack’s. His brother-in-law, Anthony, had gotten Hudson into the sport and he found it an incredible outlet for the emotions he kept hidden inside. Anthony had explained he’d used boxing as a way to focus his anger in a healthy manner when he’d returned from the war and still enjoyed going to the club to keep physically fit.

  It was at those few social gatherings he attended that Hudson had come across Lady Hortense. She was the daughter of an earl and Hudson’s same age. Because of that, he’d been at university when she made her come-out, marrying a man twice her own father’s age. The husband had died less than two years after their wedding, leaving Lady Hortense a very young, very wealthy widow. She had garnered quite a reputation as being a tiger both in—and out—of bed after his death. When she’d made known to him her interest in a liaison, he had made an excuse that he was too busy with his current mistress to be entangled further. What Hudson didn’t say was the feral way she’d looked at him had signaled she would be trouble down the line. He liked his lovers undemanding. An affair with Lady Hortense would be far more complicated than he desired. Even if she was a beautiful woman.

  Why she’d wed Horatio Sloane, though, had never been made clear. The man had debts up to his ears and would inherit a dilapidated estate. At any rate, Hudson dreaded the upcoming encounter. As his carriage arrived at a lavish townhouse, he decided he would merely play errand boy and give the butler Lady Mia’s letter. He saw no need to see the couple in person.

  As he reached the door, he heard another carriage approaching and cursed under his breath.