by Cheryl Bolen
He pounded the table. "It was not an unimportant purchase. In fact, it wasn't at all the type of purchase a woman should make. Especially without her husband."
"But I did seek Timothy's advice."
"Did George completely fail to instill propriety in you?" he asked angrily.
She jerked up her head, a haughty expression on her face. "You don't have to bring my brother into this."
They faced each other, flaring eyes locked. It was as if neither of them would flinch first, so intense were their unwavering gazes. Then all of a sudden, Glee's face softened. "Forgive me, Blanks," she said contritely. "You're absolutely correct. You're my husband, and I should always defer to your judgment. Would it please you if I returned the phaeton?"
He thought about the poor coachmaker who had likely tipped a few bumpers last night to celebrate having made a sale. "It's not the phaeton, nor the money. It's the idea that my opinions weren't solicited by you."
She lifted her thick, dark lashes. "I've been most insensitive. I'm sorry."
Now what was he supposed to say? All I really want is for you to never make a public display of yourself on the phaeton's high perch. When, truth be told, what really bothered him were the missing earrings. And he begrudgingly refused to speak of them.
Now she made him feel the oppressor when he was being the oppressed. She did display extraordinary understanding.
"I thought perhaps the two of us could take a turn about Bath in your new rig," he said.
Her lips lifted into a smile. "Could we see the lad who hangs about your solicitor's?" she asked hopefully.
He frowned. Why did she have such a knack for reading his mind? Were there other matters she read with equal accuracy? The thought frightened him. He hadn't wanted to ever be that close to a woman. Or to anyone. He especially hadn't wanted to ever be saddled with a wife. "I looked for him yesterday while I was at Willowby's but saw no sign of him."
She shrugged. "We'll just have to make inquiries."
"And when we find him?"
She shrugged again. "I'm not really sure. . ."
"Together, we'll be able to think of something," he assured.
After the groom brought around Glee's new phaeton, Gregory assisted her in climbing up on the box, then he joined her and took the reins.
They went north first and circled along the Royal Crescent, then came back down Milsom Street past Bath Abbey and stopped near the quay and the three-story edifice where Gregory's solicitor had offices.
The lad was in front of the building, Gregory noted with satisfaction. Giving Gregory even greater pleasure was the fact the boy sported a new woolen coat and sturdy new shoes.
"Is that him?" Glee asked.
Pulling the phaeton parallel to the building, Gregory nodded.
The lad, a huge smile on his thin face, came running toward the phaeton. "Need an experienced ostler?" the boy asked excitedly.
Gregory's eyes narrowed, a grin pinching his cheek. "Do you remember me, lad?"
The boy nodded. "You're the gent what gave me a crown."
"There'll be another crown for you today if you watch the horse while my wife and I take a short walk to unstiffen our legs."
"Ye can count on me," the lad said confidently.
Gregory disembarked and offered a hand to Glee.
"And what might your name be?" Glee asked the boy.
"Me name's Archibald, but those what know me calls me Archie."
Smoothing her skirts as she got to the pavement, Glee asked, "And how old are you, Archie?"
"Eight," he boasted.
"You seem rather young to be wandering the streets with no adult," Glee said.
Gregory scowled at his wife. She would have to be blind not to have seen hundreds of the boy's class similarly unchaperoned. Gregory's chest tightened. A pity he couldn't help them all.
"Oh, me mum's just inside the building if I should need her."
Gregory laid a hand on the boy's bony shoulder. "I had need of you yesterday but couldn't find you."
The boy's cork-colored lashes downcast, he shrugged. "I had to help me mum yesterday, but I'm here most days."
"You help your mama clean?" Glee asked.
The boy shook his head. "She don't ever let me clean. The nobs don't like having a child underfoot."
Archie did not divulge in what manner he had helped his mother on the previous day, Gregory mused.
"Did your mother work yesterday?" Gregory asked.
"She did her work later. So long as she gets her work done, it don't really matter when she begins," the boy said defensively.
Glee mussed his light brown hair. "I'm sure she is a very good worker. As are you."
The boy looked up at Glee, shading his blue eyes from the sun. "How'd ye know?"
"Oh, I can tell by looking at you what a very fine helper you must be. And my husband has bragged of your service to him any number of times."
Archie tossed a satisfied smile at Gregory.
As Gregory and Glee strolled through lower Bath, they had the good fortune to run into Appleton and the twins, the three of whom promptly addressed Glee as Pixie, much to her husband's consternation. Gregory glared at his friends but said nothing.
The five of them fell into step in two rows along the pavement. "We were turned out," Elvin announced dejectedly.
"Turned out of what?" Gregory asked.
"I expect they were given their walking papers from the serving staff at the Upper Assembly Rooms," Glee said.
The three bachelors nodded.
"Elvin was caught in the act of. . .enhancing the flavor of the tea," Appleton said.
Melvin and Elvin laughed. "Then they realized we weren't the regular staff and made a big scene," Elvin added.
"And I thought you did such a very good job," Glee said with mock outrage.
Appleton turned around to address Gregory, speaking with naked admiration. "A deuced fine wife you've got for yourself."
"If one has a penchant for extricating one's spouse from scrapes," Gregory mumbled under his breath.
Appleton offered Glee his arm, and they walked together a few feet ahead of Gregory. "I say, Pix, I've had another deuced good idea on how to enliven the Assembly Rooms next Tuesday."
Gregory—quite oddly—fumed as his wife expressed an interest in Appleton's schemes. The both of them were far too old to behave so childishly.
"Elvin and I plan to pen a note to Miss Holworth that purports to be from a secret admirer. The note will request that she meet her admirer at the Bennett Street entrance to the Assembly Rooms at nine."
Elvin came up on Glee's other side. "Then we'll also send a note to old Mr. Goodfellow, begging him to meet Miss Holworth at nine at the Bennett Street entrance.
Glee was silent a moment before reacting to the trio's scheme. Then she spoke cautiously. "I daresay your lark will cause much merriment, but let's hope it's not at the expense of either participant. For I know of nothing against Miss Holworth, save a profound shyness. Now, if Miss Aggremont were to be the pawn. . ."
Elvin coughed. "But Miss Aggremont's a paragon!"
Glee frowned. "And well she knows it."
"If Pix says Miss Aggremont needs taking down a notch, Miss Aggremont it will be," Appleton said.
Gregory unaccountably swelled with pride. Glee wanted no part of a scheme that would entrap innocent persons. And Jane Aggremont, he had to admit, was far from innocent. In fact, she was a worthy target for such a prank. A more self-centered woman he had never met.
"What of old Mr. Goodfellow?" Elvin asked.
Glee thought for a moment. "The poor man has only just come out of black, and I hear he still mourns his deceased wife dreadfully."
"She's got a point there," Appleton said.
Despite their childishness, Gregory was getting into this. "What about Jefferson?" he asked.
"He's far too handsome," Glee said. "What's needed is a man who thinks he is much more worthy than he actually is."
"Sounds like Jeffer
son to me," Gregory mumbled as he watched his wife's back. And the backs of the two men at either side of her. Anger swelled within him. Why did his wife have to find Jefferson handsome? Gregory's hands coiled into fists.
"What about Thornton?" Melvin asked.
Gregory's vision shifted to Melvin, who walked beside him. A very good idea. Thornton was a pompous, arrogant ass.
"He'd be perfect!" Appleton exclaimed.
So it was settled. Next Tuesday, Miss Aggremont would receive a note supposedly from Mr. Thornton, who begged a private meeting with her. The two of them, Gregory thought, heartily deserved to be made a laughing stock.
"Where are we going?" Melvin asked.
"I want you to see my new phaeton," Glee said. "Timothy helped me select it."
"Blanks didn't object?" Elvin asked.
Blanks spoke in an even voice devoid of emotion. "I was not overjoyed."
"In the future I will consult my husband before making any out-of-the-ordinary purchases," she said.
Gregory's insides collapsed. She hadn't really got the point of his anger.
She turned her head and smiled at him. "Blanks, dear, would you object if I have my phaeton painted bright red?"
A red phaeton! What would the minx think of next? "So long as you don't wear the red dress when you ride in it," he answered with a calm he was far from feeling.
"I cannot understand why you dislike that dress so much. I've received any number of compliments on it."
Gregory mumbled an unintelligible retort.
When they reached the phaeton, Gregory tossed Archie two crown and happily watched the boy's face brighten. "I've a mind to hire you to come work in my stable," Gregory said to the boy.
A wistful look crossed the lad's face. "I can't leave me mum."
"But your mother could enter into service at our house, too, and the both of you would have your own room and board furnished," Glee said.
The boy shook his head. "Me mum's happy where she is."
Not only during the drive back to Queen Square but throughout the rest of the day, Gregory pictured the wistful expression that had come over Archie's face when he offered the lad a groom's job. What compelled the lad to refuse an offer that would improve his—and his mother's—life?
Chapter 15
The trio came to dinner that night, and silliness prevailed. But Gregory's low spirits prevented him from joining his wife and friends in their levity. He did not at all approve of his wife's familiarity with his friends. Nor did he approve of the encouragement she gave their schemes. She was far too enamored of pranks for a married woman. The whole lot of them had no more maturity than young Archibald.
But it was Archie himself who caused Gregory the most consternation. The lad had fairly shot down Gregory's hopes by refusing to come into Blankenship service. Why had the blasted lad refused? Gregory had been smugly content the boy would come under his protection, and he would never again have to put himself out for or to worry about the lad. The boy himself obviously had no desire for security. Damn him.
Archie, unfortunately, had other allegiances. And Gregory meant to uncover the wherefore of them.
The following morning he went to Willowby's office on the pretext of having the solicitor look over some leases. Once again, there was no sign of the lad.
To Willowby's clerk, Gregory asked, "You procured the shoes and coat for the wretched lad, I see."
The clerk looked up at him, grinning broadly. "His mum was very grateful."
"Did you tell them . . ."
"I said the benefactor was one of Mr. Willowby's wealthy clients."
Gregory nodded. "I got the impression they—mother and son—were extremely poor. Do you know if they've got permanent lodgings?"
"Couldn't say, sir," the clerk responded as he shuffled papers around his desk. "Though it grieves me to say it, the pair of them look to emerge from the gutter half the time."
Gregory winced. "I'm particularly interested in facts about the boy—if you should learn anything."
The clerk looked up from his papers. "Yes, of course, Mr. Blankenship."
Gregory then went to another tenant of the building and asked the clerk there if he knew where Archie and his mother lived. The man shook his head, unable to reveal any more information. Gregory went to leave the office.
"Wait," the clerk said, "I don't think they have permanent lodgings. It seems to me that Mrs. A. carries all her worldly possessions about in a cloth bag that goes everywhere with her."
Gregory looked puzzled. "Mrs. A.?"
"The lad's mother. She says her foreign last name's too difficult to pronounce."
"The woman speaks with an accent?" Gregory asked.
"Oh, no, she's most likely a British native. I believe her former husband was the foreigner."
"The lad's father that would be," Gregory said.
"I suppose.”
"Is Mrs. A. working today?"
The clerk withdrew his watch from his waistcoat pocket. "She often comes in late, but she works late and works hard."
Gregory nodded and left. Why would the boy not delight in the chance to procure a comfortable home for himself and his mother? And to get paid to care for the horses he was so enamored of?
That afternoon, the trio assembled at Blankenship House where they had previously decided to meet, before departing for the prizefight which was to take place a few miles from Bath.
Gregory was most vexed. He had looked high and low for Glee but had been unable to find her. Something about leaving her for several hours made him nervous. There was no telling how much mischief she could do. She could cavort with Jefferson. Or race her phaeton through town. Or order more scandalous dresses. Or give away his mother's emeralds. Or, perish the thought, bring home urchins to lavish her attentions upon.
Where had that wife of his gone? His lips a grim line, he thought about not going with his friends. Leaving Glee to her own devices could prove regrettable.
"You quite the thing?" Appleton asked Gregory with concern.
"I'm fine. It's just that I hate to leave without telling my wife." What a hen-pecked fellow he must seem!
Smiling, Appleton clapped him on the back. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd be deferring to a chit half your size."
"Don't call my wife a chit!"
Appleton and the twins exchanged amused glances, then Elvin set a hand to Gregory's back. "Shall we go?"
His tiger brought around Gregory's phaeton and, with reluctance, Gregory hopped on the box. "Care to ride with me, Melvin?" Gregory asked.
Appleton had lined up his phaeton next to the twins's, and Blanks's phaeton made a third, resembling a Roman chariot race.
Elvin smiled and shook his head sheepishly. "I mustn't hoard your other seat. You never know when you might need it to transport an important person."
The lot of them were dicked in their nobs, Gregory was convinced, though he had never thought to throw Melvin's name into such company. Melvin used to be the level-headed one.
After they crossed the River Avon, they were soon in the countryside, greatcoats flapping in the wind as they put more distance between them and the city. Soon, a knot of carriages, gigs, horses and shabbily dressed pedestrians signaled the location of the fight. One after another, with Gregory leading the way, they turned off onto a lane thick with merrymakers and drove past throngs of happily shouting fight attendees. Gregory flicked a glance to Melvin, who was closest to him. Why was the fellow smirking? Gregory's gaze shifted to the others, all of whom were smiling.
A smile curled on Gregory's own lips. Nothing like a prizefight to equalize all men—from swells to servants—united in their love of manly sport.
And there was no sport more manly than pugilism. What courage these men had! Who could not admire these marvelous beasts whose fancy footwork and skill with their bare hands put them in dire danger every minute they were in the ring?
Gregory led the others past those who had gathered leisurely to cel
ebrate and make the odd bet. He pulled to a stop when he found a space on a knoll where the three phaetons could line up next to each other and still be able to see the fight some forty feet away.
His friends parked their vehicles next to his, then all of them disembarked to go make wagers. Gregory meant to wager on The African, a magnificent creature. As quick on his feet as any fighter he had ever seen. Gregory had seen him fight in London last spring. Not even Gentleman Jackson was as fleet of foot.
While they walked to betting cages, Gregory nodded any number of times at acquaintances of his who had gathered here this day, perched above the teeming crowds on the seats of their conveyances.
Gregory put a hundred quid on The African.
"I've got fifty quid that says the Englishman will get the best of your black," Appleton said to Gregory after he placed his wager.
"I do hate to take your money," Gregory said by way of an agreement.
The four of them chuckled on the way back to their rigs. As Gregory neared his, he saw that his blasted tiger had helped himself to the master's seat. The gall! Gregory strode over to his phaeton, a frown on his face.
As he drew closer, he saw that his slip of a tiger—dressed in green and gold livery with powered hair—was not his tiger at all, but his perplexing wife dressed as a lad! Drawing his brows together, Gregory openly scowled up at Glee, his fisted hands on his hips. "What do you think you're doing here?" His eyes trailed over her smooth breasts which the tiger's shirt did little to conceal. How could he have not noticed it was his lovely—maddening—wife in the child-sized Blankenship livery?
His glance flicked to his friends, who burst into laughter. "You knew all along, did you not?"
"Of course," Elvin said. "It was Appleton's idea. And a capital one at that!"
Glee's eyes grew wide as she watched him. "I did so want to see a mill first hand, and I dared not ask you for I knew you'd become angry. Really, Blanks, there's no end to your old-fashioned views of what a wife is to do and not to do!"
Appleton, his eyes glittering with amusement, was quick to champion Glee's cause. "Marriage really has made you old fashioned."
Gregory glared at his friend. "I am not old fashioned!" He met his wife's frightened gaze. "Take a look about you, Mrs. Blankenship. Do you see any other women here?" His shimmering brown eyes flared in anger.