by Jude Knight
The entrance hall was full of people—no doubt ducal servants and attendants. Rose took the contract papers up to her guest room and sat studying them until the earl and countess returned and she had to go down to be sociable.
The Duchess of Haverford had been visiting friends in Cirencester and was on her way to call on a goddaughter in Bath. “You will remember Polly, Anne, dear. She married the Viscount Sudding. And she has been delivered of a son, which is such a relief for the family. Three daughters, you know, and the cousin a very odd man. One would not want him to inherit. And she is still young, so there may be more.”
The thought clearly reminded her of her own offspring. “Rede, I had such a comfortable coze with Aldridge today.” Aldridge was seated on the floor at her feet, and she patted his cheek lovingly. “I had no idea you were here, darling. So pleased. I thought you and your friend, Lord Overton, had gone off to a party somewhere.”
“Overton returned home, Mama,” Aldridge told her. They had separated in London two months ago, after Overton read Aldridge a lecture on his drinking, refusing to ‘follow him to perdition.’ Overton headed back north to his estate, his wife, and his stepdaughters, and Aldridge rambled from house party to house party. “His wife is in expectation of a happy event.”
“How lovely! Lord Overton was at school with Aldridge, my dears. You remember, Rede. Such a nice boy. Injured in the war, you know, then came home to inherit the barony.”
She patted her son’s cheek again. “He has settled down nicely since he wed. Aldridge quite misses him, do you not, my love?”
“He is staid and boring.”
“And a new baby,” the Duchess continued, taking no notice. “How lovely.”
Aldridge shifted from under his mother’s hand, and got to his feet. “Perhaps Mrs Darling would play for us. Would you be so kind?”
Rose nodded, taking the message from the abrupt change of subject. His Lordship’s friend was not a topic to be discussed in front of a mistress, however expensive.
Her Grace watched her son thoughtfully as he arranged music for Rose, then turned pages for her. “You play beautifully, my dear,” she said, when Rose returned to her seat.
“Simple things, Your Grace,” Rose said. “I fear anything difficult is beyond me.”
“You do well, my dear, to know your limits and stay within them,” the duchess replied, her grave look giving the words another layer of meaning.
By the time dinner was called, Rose knew where Aldridge came by his conversational dexterity. The duchess swooped, with butterfly ease, from family to family, throughout the ton, and up and down society. Her Grace, it seemed, knew everybody in England, was related to half of them, and was godmother to the other half.
The addition of a duchess to the table did not change the informality with which they dined, and the conversation ranged freely around the table. Her Grace had news of Lady Chirbury’s sister, Kitty, who had been staying with her in London. “Dear Kitty; she is meant to be refreshing her winter wardrobe, but she and Mia will be spending their pin money on music and books, I dare say.” And she had spent half an hour with the nursery party. “Your Sarah is such a pretty child, Mrs Darling. And lovely manners.”
After dinner, the ladies withdrew to the great parlour, leaving the two men to the port.
“I am travelling in the morning, so will go up to bed,” the duchess announced. “Mrs Darling, perhaps you would give me a few moments of your time?”
“Be nice, aunt,” warned Lady Chirbury, making Rose even more nervous. The duchess gave an enigmatic smile and led the way upstairs.
“Leave us, dear,” she said to the maid who was standing ready by the bed. “I shall ring when I want you.” She took a chair by the fire and waved Rose to the other.
“Do not look so nervous, Mrs Darling. I do not intend to bite you.”
Rose blushed scarlet. Aldridge had promised to bite her, and had explained exactly where. No. She must not think of that. She sat, as commanded.
“Mrs Darling, you were raised gentry, were you not?”
Rose nodded, cautiously. Where was the duchess going with this?
“The manners, the speech, the accomplishments—they can all be taught, of course. But one who has learned them from the cradle...” Her Grace waved a hand as if to flick away counterfeits.
“The usual story, I imagine? Seduction or rape? And no father to defend your honour?”
“My father...” Rose swallowed hard to remove the lump that closed her throat at the memories. “My father was a librarian. He took the part of his employer.”
“Ah.” Her Grace nodded. “And the employer was the cause of your downfall. Or his son, perhaps?”
“His son,” Rose confirmed. His sons, in fact, but she would not say that.
“And Sarah was the...?”
“No, Your Grace. Sarah... came later.”
“Mr. Darling?”
“There was no Mr. Darling,” Rose admitted.
The maid must have added a fresh log to the fire just before they arrived. The top was still uncharred, but flames licked up from the bed of hot embers. A twig that jutted from one side suddenly flared, turned black, and shrivelled. The bottom of the log began to glow red.
The duchess spoke again, startling Rose out of her flame-induced trance.
“What do you want for your daughter, Mrs Darling?”
“A better life,” Rose said immediately, suddenly fierce. “A chance to be respectable. A life that does not depend on the whims of a man.”
“The first two may be achievable,” the duchess said, dryly. “The third is highly unlikely for any woman of any station. You expect my son to help you to these goals, I take it.”
Rose was suddenly tired of polite circling. “I was saving so that I could leave this life, start again in another place under another name. But my last protector cheated me and stole from me.
“I do what I must, Your Grace. Should I have killed myself when I was disgraced? I had no skills anyone wanted to buy. I could play the piano, a little; sew, but others were faster and better; paint, but indifferently; parse a Latin sentence, but of what use was that in my circumstances? Should I have starved in the gutter where they threw me?
“Well, I was not given that choice. Those who took me from the gutter knew precisely what I had that others would pay for. As soon as I could, I began selling it for myself, and I. Will. Not. Be. Ashamed.”
Her vehemence did not ruffle the duchess’s calm. “We all do what we must, my dear. I am not judging you. Men have the power in this world, and women of the gentry are raised to depend on them for our survival. But you must know that Aldridge cannot offer marriage to a woman with your history.”
The mere thought startled a laugh out of Rose. Marriage had never crossed Aldridge’s mind. Of that she was certain. “His Lordship has offered me a two-year contract as his mistress,” she said, “with very favourable terms. If I accept, and if I save carefully, I will never need to take a protector again.”
“Two years!” The duchess arched a delicate eyebrow. “Aldridge seldom keeps a mistress beyond six months. He must be utterly besotted.”
“He has no thought of marriage,” Rose found herself reassuring the duchess. “And neither do I. I like him, but do not love him, and I think only love could make marriage tolerable.”
It was only partly true. She could easily fall in love with Aldridge... was, perhaps, beginning to do so already. That way, she knew, led to heartache, for the duchess was right. Aldridge would never offer her marriage, or even permanence.
The duchess nodded, decisively. “You are wise. I think you will be good for him, Mrs Darling—which is a ridiculous name. May I call you ‘Rose’?” Her Grace’s smile was a wonderful thing, another feature her son had inherited.
“Would you...” Rose had never imagined having such a conversation, but there was something about this woman. Nothing shocked her, and she listened. “Would you call me Becky? It is my real name.”
That squashed the nascent hope that the duchess’s sponsorship might mean she could avoid accepting Aldridge’s protection. Still, it was a good offer. Becky accepted the duchess’s outstretched hands. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will do my best to make him happy.”
Chapter Five
When Aldridge and Rede returned to the ladies, only Anne was left. Mama had carried Mrs Darling off for a private interview. His alarm propelled him up the stairs to retrieve her, but by the time he reached Mama’s room, she was alone.
“I hope you did not frighten Mrs Darling, Mama,” he grumbled.
What had Mama said to Mrs Darling? What had Mrs Darling said to Mama?
The duchess just laughed, patted his cheek, and told him he was a naughty boy. “Now off with you, dearest, and let this old woman seek her bed.”
Rose must have gone to bed herself, for she was nowhere to be found, and didn’t appear again until just before the duchess left in the morning.
Her Grace went down the line, enfolding each of them in a perfumed hug.
“Take care, now, Anne,” she said to the countess. “You must eat wisely and exercise a little each day.”
“Let me know if you hear from David,” she told Rede. “Jonathan always falls on his feet, but I cannot help but be a little anxious.”
She hugged Mrs Darling next, and Mrs Darling looked as surprised as Aldridge. “Remember, dear,” was all she said, ratcheting Aldridge’s alarm up another couple of notches.
Aldridge was last in the line, Her Grace having farewelled the nursery party upstairs.
“Do not look so worried,” she told him, patting one cheek while she kissed the other. He wished she would stop treating him as if he were twelve. Though knowing Her Grace, that would be the point.
“Relax, dear,” she told him. “The world is not on your shoulders. Have a little fun.”
Her Grace might be the only person in the world who thought his life wasn’t wholly devoted to fun. Even his father, who had off-loaded almost the entire work of running the ducal estates, continued to insist Aldridge was a useless ne’er-do-well with no occupation beyond enjoying himself.
Mind you, Aldridge was, himself, at pains to project that impression.
How long would Mrs Darling be fooled? Aldridge smiled. Not long, probably.
He waved off his mother’s carriage. Right. Time to bring this long negotiation to an end. With luck, they could be on the road tomorrow. His promise to Rede did not extend beyond the boundary of Longford Court.
“Mrs Darling,” he murmured, as they went back up the steps to the house, “have you made a decision? Will you accept my contract?”
Rede overheard, and held back, letting Anne go into the house without him. “Mrs Darling has asked me to look over the papers for her, Aldridge. You don’t mind, do you?”
He was rational enough to know he should not mind. If he’d met Mrs Darling in London, and she had a bit of Town bronze, he’d be dealing with a solicitor experienced in such matters, and would think nothing of it. However much he would prefer his relatives stay out of his business, Mrs Darling had a right to good advice.
“Of course not,” he assured Rede. “I am willing to make changes, of course. But I hope we can settle this today.”
Rede looked pointedly at Aldridge’s fall and snickered. “This way, Mrs Darling.”
Instead of following them into the house, Aldridge crossed the porch to the outside door of the estate office. It opened. Good. On the other side of the room, an interior door let onto the study, and he opened it a crack before Rede showed Mrs Darling to a seat.
“I have had a look through,” Rede said, “and it is a fair contract, on the whole. I would like to make a couple of suggestions, however.”
“Go on.”
“The contract specifies a nurse for Sarah. I suggest changing that to a governess. Anne tells me she is a bright little girl. You have been teaching her yourself, I understand, and I expect you will continue. But your time will be at my cousin’s disposal, and a governess will provide structure and continuity.”
Aldridge nodded. Perhaps Rede’s intervention was a good thing.
“Also,” Rede continued, “as she grows older, you will want to hire other teachers for particular skills. I suggest you broaden the bit about teachers for you to include her.”
That was fair. Aldridge had no objection to that.
“And I would write in a clause that says you have the hiring and firing of staff. You will know best what you want, particularly for Sarah, and you will be more comfortable if they answer to you.
“The town-house. Make sure you have the right to refuse one that is unsuitable, and for God’s sake, reserve full control of its decoration. I have seen Aldridge’s bedchamber in the heir’s wing at Haverford House.” Rede lingered meaningfully on the word ‘seen’.
“What is wrong with his bedchamber?” Mrs Darling asked. Aldridge wanted to know, too. He’d spent a lot of thought and effort getting it just the way he wanted it.
“It is clearly designed for one thing, and one thing only,” Rede said. “And sleeping is not that thing.”
Yes, true. And none the worse for that, Aldridge thought.
“You do not want your daughter to grow up in a fornicatorium,” Rede continued, “if you will excuse my blunt language, Mrs Darling.”
“Decoration,” Mrs Darling said, firmly. “Is there anything else, Lord Chirbury?”
“It is a two-year contract, and if you wish to leave early, you do not keep the house.”
“Yes,” Mrs Darling acknowledged. “That is fair, is it not?”
“Add a clause to say, if he wishes to dismiss you early, you do keep the house, and also any quarterly payments owed to the end of the term.”
Really? Aldridge bristled. Whose cousin did Rede think he was? But on reflection, it was fair enough.
Rede hadn’t finished. “He has given himself right of renewal at the end of the two years. Make that ‘renewal upon mutual agreement.’”
Aldridge shifted uneasily and caught himself in the movement. Again, a fair clause. And one that would not affect him, besides. He’d never kept a mistress even a year, let alone longer, nor ever given one reason to want to leave him.
“You have written a note about... er... intimate services.” For the first time, Rede sounded a little embarrassed.
“Yes. Aldridge said he would not require... that is to say, I would have the right to...”
“Yes, quite,” Rede interrupted. “Mrs Darling, such a clause... it would be unenforceable in law, you understand. Property rights are one thing, but the courts would hold that anything Aldridge does to a woman under his protection—mistress, wife, sister, or child—short of causing serious bodily harm, is perfectly acceptable.”
At that, Aldridge very nearly opened the door. He would never hurt any woman, let alone one he had in his keeping. The idea! But Rede was still talking.
“But you do need not worry on that account. Aldridge, whatever you might have heard about him, is a good man. I have never known him to break a promise, nor deliberately hurt a woman or child. He is a careless son of a devil, though. Don’t give him your heart, Mrs Darling.”
“I have no heart left, Lord Chirbury. But thank you.”
The two in the study were silent after that exchange. Aldridge didn’t want Mrs Darling’s heart, or anyone else’s. Having his lovers profess such feelings left him embarrassed and slightly guilty, as if he owed them an apology for retaining his own. Certainly, if he were capable of this kind of love (and he rather thought he wasn’t), he’d not be offering
it to a woman he had purchased. He’d cheerfully share the rest of his anatomy, though. One part, in particular, thought it had waited long enough.
In the next room, Rede said, “One last thing. Your name. The contract should bear your full legal name, though I well understand your wish to bear a working name while you are active in the demi-monde. I think it unlikely in the extreme you will need to sue Aldridge, but if anything happened to him, you might end up fighting his father, and in that, you will need all the advantages you can get.”
“Let us pray that never happens,” answered Mrs Darling.
Aldridge should have thought of that. He had no intention of breaching the agreement, but Rede was right again. Life was a chancy thing, and His Grace would spurn her without blinking an eye. Or insist on taking his son’s place, the old rouê.
“Very well, if you have no questions? No? Then we just need a fair copy written, and you and Aldridge can sign before witnesses.” Rede pitched his voice to carry a little further. “Aldridge? If you have finished eavesdropping, how about joining us and writing out the new copy of this contract?”
Rebecca Mary Winstanley. So said the contract, his copy of which currently resided in the case of legal papers he carried with him always. Rebecca. Becky, at least when they were private, though she would continue to use the name ‘Rose Darling’ in public.
He’d asked the loan of two carriages, one for him and Becky, and one for Sarah and the maid they’d borrowed from Anne. They would be one night on the road, and he did not intend Becky to spend it looking after Sarah.
Indeed, why wait for an inn, when one had a commodious carriage?
With many miles of journey ahead of them, they had plenty of time to explore one another, and he was enjoying a long appetiser to the main event when the carriage drew to a halt not a half hour out of Longford.
Becky tucked her exposed breast back into her bodice, and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders to cover the loosened stays, while he buttoned the side of his fall that she’d half released.
Just in time, as a knock on the door revealed a tearful Sarah.