‘Have you heard him talk about horses?’ asked Serena, ‘The fellow’s a fool.’
‘Being a bad judge of horseflesh is hardly a-’ she caught herself once more. ‘Oh, stop it, Serena.’
But at this point, Serena, who had no intention of stopping the frankest conversation she had had with her sister in a month, was interrupted by the entrance of Lady Sumner.
‘Genevieve!’ said Serena swiftly, ‘May we congratulate you? Orry says that she has seen the signs that you are increasing.’ There was a ghastly pause as all colour drained from their friend’s face, then she burst into tears.
Honoria shot Serena a hard look and bustled to lead her friend to a small settle and sat beside her, holding her hands. ‘Pray do not say anything about this, I beg of you. My husband does not, as yet, know.’
Serena was not finished with plain speaking which had always been the way between them before Miss Horton’s marriage. ‘Why are you so upset about Benedict? You behave as though there is more between you than we know.’
Honoria was shocked. ‘Serena!’
Genevieve blinked. ‘You think-?’ she gave a peal of laughter that made the sisters’ shoulders fall a little. ‘I love Benedict as I love you all, but it is not that. It is that I feel so responsible for his injuries.’ She looked from one to the other of the sisters, ‘I believe it happened because Benedict felt he was on some - some business of mine.’
‘What business?’ continued Serena, now seated beside Honoria. But her voice was softer, moved by Genevieve’s evident distress.
‘I cannot tell you.
‘Genevieve, enough of these secrets!’
‘Your uncle has the matter in hand. That is all I can say.’
Honoria, reassured on her worst fear, was sympathetic to Genevieve’s discretion. ‘We shall not press you, Genevieve, but remember that we are here to help you.’
Genevieve frowned. ‘No one can help me. Look at what has happened to Benedict when he tried.’ She paused.
Mr Wilbert Fenton had topped the morning off by a visit to Lady Overton.
She was charmingly déshabillé in the fashion of the last century, when grand married ladies, dressed in only their commodious slips and a robe, allowed their beaux to visit their boudoir in order to watch them dress. Mr Fenton thought it a tempting reminder of his youth, as was Countess Overton herself. She moved to lounge on a silken daybed accepting her chocolate cup from her maid. She held out one hand and Mr Fenton bent low and kissed it reverently. During this process she had allowed a pale shoulder to escape her slip and Mr Fenton said with more genuine feeling than he had anticipated, ‘Countess, what a truly enticing woman you are.’
‘Wilbert Fenton, what on earth are you doing loose upon the world at this hour?’ He raised his eyes significantly to her maid. The countess waved her away and she left with a repressing look at Mr Fenton.
‘What a dragon!’ Mr Fenton remarked.
‘She protects the proprieties. She does not often leave me alone with a man in my boudoir.’ Her ladyship smiled, ‘Or at all.’ She smiled, sipping her chocolate. ‘Despite my reputation as a shocking spendthrift and keeper of a gaming house, I believe my honour is still intact. What brings you to my boudoir at this unearthly hour, Wilbert?’
‘I came here to make you a proposition, my lady, but now that I am in your presence, it becomes more of a heartfelt plea. You look quite beautiful today, my dear Aurora.’
‘And you are looking at me as you did twenty years ago.’ He got up and she held up a palm. ‘Do not approach me, I believe you are no more to be trusted than you used to be.’
‘In Vauxhall Gardens, along that quiet path - and you so lovely in that silver gown, who could blame me?’
‘I gave you a sharp shock!’
‘But only after you let me steal that kiss. What happy memories.’
The countess looked at him fondly. ‘What is it, Wilbert?’
‘I have come to ask for your hand in marriage.’
She laughed so hard that she almost spilled her chocolate. ‘You ridiculous creature! And you without a feather to fly with, I’ll be bound.’
‘You’d be right,’ said Mr Fenton, crossing his legs negligently, ‘but I could be of genuine help in running your little establishment.’ He sipped his own chocolate, ‘Indeed, I suppose it is the only thing I am qualified to do.’
‘I have no urgent need of any help,’ she said, regarding Mr Fenton speculatively, ‘that I know of.’
‘Your establishment is getting a bit of a reputation, you know. For card sharks who prey on the innocent.’
‘Whenever I learn of such persons, I refuse to admit them again.’
‘But that is only after the damage is done. I could spot them long before that.’
Her ladyship sat up with energy. ‘If you did this, you would be like me, Wilbert. Admitted to only half of the polite world’s homes. Shunned by others. Even the regent will fail you.’
‘I believe I can make do.’
‘You would have no objection to being a kept man?’ He raised his brows. ‘I have a different proposition for you, if you mean it.’
Mr Fenton frowned.
‘I would accept your offer of marriage, but close the gaming club.’
He was stunned.
‘And you would have to give up gaming, as would I. It is what destroyed me in the first place and after two years of this place, I have had my fill. But it is in your blood, Wilbert, and I cannot marry another gamester.’
Mr Fenton surprised her by saying, ‘I have had my fill for some time, but it has rather become a habit. But what could we live on?’
‘In the past two years the Faro Bank has made one hundred thousand pounds.’
There was a stunned silence. ‘Then why, my dear, would you consent to marry this old reprobate?’
‘We are old friends, are we not? And however much of a devil you are, Wilbert Fenton, you are admitted everywhere. You are my ticket back to respectability. To my old life. Almacks! Balls!’
He thought about it. He believed she was right. His connections and her money would admit them to every but the most stuffy of the denizens of the polite world. He thought with relish of how they would cause talk, but it would die away. There had been no scandal of the risqué kind about Lady Overton. His fellows would rake him over the coals about becoming leg-shackled at his age, but he would not be blackballed. Of course his nights of dissipation with Prinny would lessen, but to tell the truth they had palled in any case. Marriage would supply the perfect excuse to lessen his duties there. He walked over to her and pulled her to her feet and into his arms, kissing her neck and shoulder as he had twenty years ago.
She giggled and then made quite another sound. ‘My dear, remember this is only a marriage of convenience!’
‘So I thought, my dear Aurora,’ said Mr Fenton, suavely, ‘but it seems to me that it might become quite another kind of marriage.’
Sometime later, with her head on Mr Fenton’s chest, both sitting on her daybed, Lady Overton murmured, ‘There have been many men who attempted to flirt with me, you know.’
‘I have seen, but you always carried it off with magnificent detachment my dear.’
‘Thank you. But it was not always pleasant.’ He squeezed her lovely shoulders with his comforting arm, feeling suddenly protective. She sighed and then said playfully, ‘But Wilbert, I should let you know that I intend to put you on a reducing diet. It is not healthy for you to be so portly my dear, no matter how well you carry it off.’
‘Losing my girth might be much easier than you imagine, my love,’ said Mr Fenton.
Her ladyship raised her face, and he kissed her once more. He found that he was much more satisfied with his bargain than he could have guessed.
Chapter 18
Genevieve Talks To Benedict
Genevieve, Lady Sumner’s, excess of emotion relating to Benedict’s injuries had of course been noted and cogitated upon by Lady Fenton. She was nearly sure t
hat there was nothing scandalous at its root, but nevertheless, she took pains to ensure that Genevieve never nursed Benedict alone. In his moments of consciousness, he’d looked pleased to see Genevieve, and had muttered a word that she could not quite catch, and once, when she and Serena were in attendance, he had asked for her by name. But this morning she left Honoria with Benedict whilst she took the air in a carriage and did a little shopping for things that could make the invalid a little more comfortable. Some lavender pastilles to burn, some of Doctor Elcott’s Elixer, which had worked so well as a tonic when Benedict was a boy, and some softer flannel to bathe his head (which she would strive to keep Mrs Hunter from seeing, since the housekeeper would no doubt be affronted).
That morning, though, Benedict awoke much better than before. He wanted to sit up and it was no use Honoria adjuring him to stay still, he struggled until a footman took his other arm and lifted him to seated position. Genevieve, seldom far, came in and arranged the pillows at his back to add to his comfort.
‘Thank you.’ After his struggle, he closed his eyes, woozier than he would admit to. He opened them to two pairs of anxious eyes looking down at him, whilst the footman left. ‘I am quite well. Don’t send for the vicar just yet.’ The two girls looked at each other and laughed. ‘I take it I’m in Mr. Allison’s house - I think I’ve seen him once or twice when I woke up.’
‘Yes. Oh Dickie, you have no notion how good it is to see you awake. Your head was broken by those dreadful ruffians. I am sure Mama feared you may awake an imbecile, but I see you are no more imbecilic than before.’ Benedict laughed and winced simultaneously. Honoria sat on his bed and grasped his hand. He groaned. ‘Do you remember any of it?’
‘Lord yes! There was a man with a cudgel. I think he meant to finish me, but they only hurt my head. It’s a hard thing to break. One of them I cut in the stomach with a bottle I managed to smash on a wall. The other snuck up behind me and delivered the last of it. He had shiny boots,’ he added, his gaze distant, ‘I saw them as I fell.’ He shook the memory off. ‘Not just a regular ruffian.’
Genevieve spoke ‘Do you know why, Dickie?’
Benedict turned to his sister, as if he had not heard. ‘Orry, I’m hungry,’ he held his hand up to stop her interrupting. ‘Do you think you might make some of Mama’s posset for me?’
‘Of course, but you don’t like-’
‘I have a need for it.’
Honoria bent and kissed him lightly and melted away towards the kitchen.
‘I have your money,’ he said to Genevieve.
‘What did you do, you silly boy?’
‘I just won back your inheritance.’
‘Then that belongs to my husband.’
Benedict jerked, causing his ribs to tear into his inner organs and a wave of pain to erupt. ‘It does not. It belongs to you and no one else. You will put me in a terrible fix if you-’ he coughed and moaned in pain once more.
Genevieve sat on the bed beside him and echoed his sister in grasping his hand. ‘I promise not to let him know. But Dickie, did you really think money would solve my problem?’
He closed his eyes. ‘I wanted to go and shake an apology from the brute. But you were right. Hurting Sumner would have made me feel better, but would have rebounded on you.’
‘I wish I’d never let you guess - this is all my fault.’
‘Then I thought of my Aunt Millicent. And yes, I did think money was the thing.’
‘Your aunt, Lady Millicent?’
‘She is married, but lives separated from her husband in a way that the world accepts. Because she is rich.’
‘And the daughter of an earl. She is allowed to be eccentric.’
‘I had to do something, Jenny. If it was Honoria or Serena, I know my father would have done something, whatever he says about the sanctity of marriage. Your father is not such a man. But you do have a brother, Jenny. That is what I have always been to you.’ She hung her head, too moved to speak, not wishing him to see the hot tears that sprang so easily to her eyes since he had been lifted from the filthy back alley where he had been found. ‘No point in winning it from Sumner - he doesn’t have it anymore,’ continued Benedict. ‘So I cheated the cheats. It turns out that I have a talent for it, so says my uncle. Most of the money is at Carstairs’. The last lot-’
‘They didn’t get it. It was still wrapped around your waist when you were discovered by the watch.’
‘Then there is close to 10,000 guineas all told. For you to get away, Jenny. Europe is safer these days. You could live anywhere. If you are afraid, I’ll come with you to see you settled.’
She could only imagine the scandal - what it would do to him. ‘Can you imagine me in Europe? I hardly knew how to bear London. I’m a country girl.’
She could tell that Benedict was a little hurt. ‘There is a deal of countryside in Europe, so I hear.’
She was frowning. Something was taking shape in her head. ‘I’m sorry, Dickie. You are such an idiot you know, to risk yourself like that.’ She rifled his hair as she’d used to. ‘Thank you for caring - and if I can pull it off, I might, just might, be able to solve this problem.’ She smiled at him and he looked relieved.
‘I thought you might not take the money. Indeed, how to make you take it is all I’ve been thinking of for weeks before Shiny Boots attacked me.’
‘I will take it - on the condition that you reserve £500 to buy your coronet.’
‘Second lieutenant in the Hussars! But I cannot-’
‘I’m afraid you must, if you want me to take it.’
‘But I have it by cheating - I cannot start my career with dirty money!’
‘And yet you wish me to.’
‘That’s different. I was returning your money to you when it was as good as stolen from your fool of a husband.’
‘Do not speak so, Benedict. I cannot hear that from you.’
‘I am sorry, Jenny. But you must see that it is different to give the money to you than to spend it on myself.’
‘Oh, this is one of those strange rules of gentlemen that I do not understand. How is this then, if I can achieve my own plan, I will accept all 10,000 guineas. Other than that I will take nothing. If my plan works, however, after receiving the money I will make a gift - or a loan if you prefer - to my brother to buy himself a coronet and go and make mischief for King and Country rather than getting into scrapes here.’
‘If your plan does not work?’
‘Then all the money you have won will be better in a charitable trust for impoverished gentlemen cheated at cards or some such thing, for I will not take a penny of it. Hiding in Europe is not for me. I will have to lie in the bed of my own making.’
By the vengeful look in Benedict’s eye, Genevieve guessed that her young protector had mentally reverted to his first plan, of shaking Sumner till his teeth rattled. Somehow she knew that Benedict would not come second to her husband, whom she realised she had begun to see as much more omnipotent than was real. He shrunk in the fire of Benedict’s eyes. But that confrontation must not occur. Her plan must work for his sake too. At the very least, a scandal that dear Lady Fenton would not appreciate could be avoided.
Honoria came back with the posset and both ladies looked on as he scrunched his nose in displeasure, but ate it, duty-bound. Despite herself, Genevieve laughed. Benedict threw his damask napkin at her.
Chapter 19
Confiding
Mr Wilbert Fenton’s valet had been up betimes to visit 32, Ludgate Hill, the well-known address of Rundell and Bridge, Jewellers, carrying a very large sapphire cravat pin (won at play from the Prince Regent himself) and a fine emerald ring that had once belonged to his father, but which was completely out of fashion at present. Mr Fenton often thought he had been born in the wrong age. He rather liked the fashions of his father’s times, when gentlemen were expected to dress in silken brocade and show their handsome legs in white stockings and high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. But every age has its ho
rrors. The wigs, hot and sticky and requiring one’s head to be shaved - and the sparsity of well washed linen, would not have suited the modern man of 1814. But he would be an antidote now if he wore his father’s ring, however handsome it appeared on his hand, so to have it made into a ring for his intended was something he could surprise her with. The money from the cravat pin would frank him and his household comfortably until the marriage took place.
When Pierre returned, he handed his master the sheaf of bills he had received at the jeweller’s, and a note that had been left on the hall table by a footman who knew better than to disturb his master at l’heure de la toilette.
Benedict awake, said Lady Sumner’s note without preamble, He has remarked on two things about his attack. One, he wounded one of them in the stomach with a broken bottle, and second, the man who felled him with the cudgel, the cur who had sneaked up behind him, had the high-polished boots of a gentleman. Lady S.
Interesting. Which of the heads that Benedict had shaved recently would have been foolhardy enough, or enraged enough, to act personally. It seemed a trifle outlandish when there were villains enough (and more) in London to employ in such things. Any ale house in the wrong part of town would supply them, he believed. Someone so enraged or so coldly vengeful that he wished to see the assault on his prey, or even to offer violence himself. Did he mean murder? At least he had not taken care to avoid it. A cudgel to the head hardly leaves the victim in a chatty mood. He had wanted harm more than money, which he may have believed Benedict carried with him still. Or hoped, at least. For the chance of hunting through Lord Carstairs’ rooms was far too dangerous. There was an army of staff who attended the rooms of the various young gentlemen who lived there, it would be more difficult to penetrate than one of the stylish houses in Grosvenor Square. No, attacking Benedict was the only hope to recover any money, but the vicious use of the cudgels talked of revenge.
Honoria and the Family Obligation Page 16