“You have worked so hard and come so far, I would hate to see your career destroyed because of me.”
He stared at her, marveling that she would think of his reputation, already blemished, before her own.
“As much as I appreciate your concern for me,” Rob replied, “it is your reputation that will suffer more.”
“That doesn’t concern me.”
“You clearly don’t know the damage and heartache gossip can cause.”
“I am not totally naive—”
“But you are ignorant.”
“I am not!”
He held his fingers to her lips. “I mean that as a statement of fact, not a criticism. Given that you are a carefully reared young woman, I would expect nothing else.”
“I truly do not care what Uncle Elias will say,” she insisted. “He doesn’t care enough about me to even bother with my opinion in so important a matter as marriage, so why should his opinion about who I care for trouble me? As for other people, I value their opinion even less, except that they may criticize you. But for your sake, I think we must be cautious and patient. At the theater Philip provided ample proof that he has misrepresented himself. He is not nearly as friendly with the king as he led my uncle to believe. It could be that Uncle Elias will call off the marriage.” She smiled with charming and unexpected shyness. “If so, I shall be free to be courted by another.”
“That does not mean he will welcome me. He may prefer Lord Cheddersby.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Except that he has reservations about Lord Cheddersby’s associates.”
“My past is well-known in legal circles, too,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but,” she said, another beautiful smile dawning on her face, “it could be that he will welcome a solicitor in the family, especially one also reputed to be clever.” A twinkle of merriment appeared in her eyes. “Of course, you might be expected to do some legal work for nothing….”
Hope sprang to life as he took her in his arms. “That is a bride-price I would certainly be willing to pay.”
Once more they kissed, this time tenderly, hopefully.
“When can I see you again?” Vivienne asked. “There is still so much more I would like to know about you.”
“And I, you,” he said softly.
“Mr. Harding!” Dillsworth called out from the other side of the door.
“Yes, yes!” he answered, reluctantly moving away from her and going toward the door.
“Will you come to my uncle’s tomorrow? You could say it is about the marriage settlement.”
He frowned.
“I know this must seem dishonest to you, but—”
“But I will be there to discuss the marriage settlement.” He made a little smile. “There is no legal obligation for me to say I hope nothing comes of it.”
“Tomorrow seems a long way away.”
“For me, too,” he whispered before he put his hand on the latch. “And I will see what I can do about keeping Lord Cheddersby safe. I am not without some means of offering protection without his being aware of it. He may seem a bit of a fool, but I am sure that, like most men, he has his pride.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Mr. Harding.”
“Robert. Rob,” he quickly amended.
“Rob,” she whispered.
Then, as he opened the door for her and as quick as the blink of an eye, he was again the grimly formal solicitor. “Good day, Mistress Burroughs.”
“Good day, Mr. Harding.”
Chapter 11
That night, Rob stood with his back to the rough wooden wall of the building in Shoe Lane, the air fetid with sweat, blood and sawdust. He was not watching the cockpit, but looking at the entrance over the heads of the mob of men who cheered, moaned, roared or cursed, depending upon which of the bloodied roosters in the cockpit they had bet on.
Surely Jack would be here soon. He was here nearly every night, even when Rob had paid him to do something else. Jack didn’t know he knew that, or that Rob forgave him the weakness that made him gamble. Gambling made Jack happy, even when he lost, and since Rob usually had some task for him, he wouldn’t starve if he lost his last halfpenny.
A loud roar from one part of the crowd and curses from the other told Rob the fight was over. He glanced at the ring. The winning bird, cradled and stroked by its owner, looked half dead; the loser appeared to be no more than a mass of blood and feathers.
If Jack didn’t come soon …
At the moment, a familiar figure with a black patch over his eye sauntered through the door. He was greeted with merry shouts and salutations as if he were the prince of the cockpit.
“Hell, I’m nearly drowned,” Jack cried jovially, shaking himself like a wet dog.
“Oy, Jack, have a care!” a man complained as drops of water flew off Jack’s sodden hair.
Rob shouldered his way toward his friend and clapped his hand on Jack’s shoulder before he started betting.
Jack looked as if he’d been caught with the crown jewels, while the men surrounding them exchanged puzzled glances.
“I need to speak with you,” Rob said quietly.
“My attorney this is,” Jack explained expansively when he realized who it was. “Little trouble with a woman.”
He grinned, but Rob could see his dismay.
His cronies laughed, then all eyes except Rob’s turned to the cockpit as a new pair of roosters were brought to the ring.
“Outside,” Rob murmured.
Jack stopped looking at the birds. “It’s bloody raining.” He nodded at the cockpit patrons. “We might as well be invisible, for all they care.”
“I’ve got another job for you.”
“Oh, is that why you’re here?” Jack’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Wouldn’t be watchin’ that neat little package of a female, would it? The one Martlebury’s supposed to marry?”
“No.”
“Damn.”
“It’s Lord Cheddersby.”
“That fool of a fop? What’s he been up to?”
“He was nearly involved in a duel with Sir Philip Martlebury.” At the idea of anybody insulting Vivienne, Rob curled his fists so tightly, his short nails dug into his palm. It was easy to imagine the things he would like to do to the arrogant bastard who dared to insult her.
The things he could do, because violence had been as natural as breathing to him once.
But he was not that boy anymore, and he could not wield a sword like a gentleman. If he attacked Philip, he might kill him with his bare hands. And then he would be hung, as the man who had reared him always claimed he would be.
As that man had been when he had been caught with stolen property in his coat.
“A duel, eh? What’s Cheddersby been up to? Dippin’ his wick where he oughtn’t?” Jack let out a low whistle. “Not samplin’ Martlebury’s bit of goods?”
“No. He was defending Mistress Burroughs’s honor.”
“He was, and not the other way around? I’ll never understand the nobility. Still, couldn’t blame a bloke for trying.”
“Jack,” Rob warned.
“Say, ain’t you the touchy one. Just a question. No need to get your drawers in a bunch, although she doesn’t look like the loyal kind to me.”
“I didn’t come here to talk about Sir Philip’s bride,” Rob said.
His friend’s eyes widened, and Rob noted how bloodshot they were. Clearly Jack had been spending considerable time tonight in a tavern or alehouse.
“Damn it, man, you already got your heart broke by a whore,” Jack muttered. “Ain’t once enough?”
Rob grabbed Jack by his worn, wet lapels. “Don’t you ever call Janet that again. Do you hear me?”
“Aye, I do!” Jack cried.
The men nearest them glanced over, so Rob let go. Their attention quickly returned to the squawking combatants.
“Damn me for a tinker, Rob,” Jack muttered as he straightened his shoulders and tugged his jacket back into place. “
She was my sister, after all. And there’s no denying she done you wrong, takin’ off with that nobleman. I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”
“Forgive me,” Rob said, embarrassed by his lack of self-restraint.
“So, what is it you want me to do?”
“Keep watch on Lord Cheddersby. I fear Sir Philip may try to do him harm.”
“Jealous sort, is he?”
“Very, and not wise,” Rob added as he put a sovereign into Jack’s grubby, outstretched hand. “Don’t interfere unless he attacks Lord Cheddersby. I’m not a barrister, so if you’re brought before the King’s Bench, there’s nothing I can do for you. The barristers aren’t likely to come to the aid of a friend of mine, either.”
“Then what am I to do if Cheddersby’s in trouble?”
“Call an alarm and wait for the king’s soldiers.”
“If raisin’ a hue and cry’s all you want,” Jack said genially, “I’m your man.” He smacked himself on the chest, then coughed.
“Just keep watch over Lord Cheddersby.”
Rob began to leave, but Jack’s strong grip on his shoulder made him turn back. “I thought you was Martlebury’s solicitor, not Cheddersby’s.”
“If Martlebury’s in Newgate, how will I get paid?”
“Ah!” Jack nodded his approval and let go. “So Cheddersby doesn’t know he’s goin’ to have a shadow?”
“No, and I don’t want him to know.”
“Martlebury wouldn’t take kindly to your tender care for his rival, neither, would he?”
“It would not be in Sir Philip’s best interest to harm Lord Cheddersby.”
“Well, you know me, Rob. More of a shadow than a shadow ever was.”
“Aye, Jack,” Rob replied with a rueful grin. “I remember.”
“Now how about a spot o’ fun? Care t’ make a little wager? I’ll take Wiggy Jones’s bird for a shilling.”
“And then you’ll no doubt take me for more,” Rob answered with a low laugh. “I haven’t been around the cockpit in years. I’d be a fool to bet against you.”
Jack’s eyes gleamed in the dim light, and when he spoke, his voice was full of good humor. “Aye, you would. How be three-to-one odds, eh?”
“Good night, Jack,” Rob said with a wry smile as he turned to go. As he moved forward, his smile quickly disappeared, for he was anxious to get out into the cleaner night air, away from the pressing bodies and even more oppressive stench.
Nevertheless, he glanced back, intending to wave farewell to his friend. Jack, however, was already busy placing his bet.
* * *
At noon the next day, as the maids cleared the table and set out fruit for the final course, Uncle Elias smiled at Vivienne.
He had been smiling at her quite frequently during the meal, and she was beginning to feel nervous.
“You seem happy, Uncle,” she finally ventured before the stress became unendurable.
“I am.” Giving her another beatific smile, he leaned back in his chair. “I received an invitation this morning.” “Oh?”
“Lord Cheddersby has invited us to his fete.”
Vivienne tried to look enthused. “Oh?”
“Yes. All the most important people in London will be there, I’m sure. Perhaps even the king.”
“And the queen?”
Her uncle frowned. “Yes, and maybe the queen.”
“Or Lady Castlemaine—certainly plenty of people who need fabric.”
“Exactly. And he spoke of you in the highest terms. ‘Your lovely niece’ was the exact expression.”
She smiled weakly. “Indeed?”
“Perhaps you will be more pleased with the honor he does you when you see his new house. It is a veritable palace, they say.”
“I’ve heard Lettice describe it so.”
“If the king is there, we must do our best to seek him out. Charles seemed most intrigued by you, my dear. You are a very pretty young woman, so that is perfectly understandable. And if he chooses you, you will be well rewarded.”
“You persist in thinking there was something special about the attention he paid me?”
“I most certainly do.”
“And thus you still believe I have the ‘opportunity’ to become yet another of the king’s whores?”
Uncle Elias frowned. “That is a crude way to put it.”
“It is the appropriate word. After all, by ‘reward’ you mean payment for services rendered, do you not?”
Her uncle’s brows lowered in a scowl. “Vivienne, you claim you are not a child anymore, so don’t think like one. If Martlebury or even Cheddersby suggested such a thing, naturally I would be upset. But we are talking of the king. If Charles likes you, you will be mistress of the most powerful man in the kingdom—and he is a very generous man. You will have a house, a title or two in all likelihood, and plenty of money.”
“You would call that a fair exchange for my virtue?” she demanded.
Before he could answer, one of the maids appeared at the door. “If you please, Mr. Burroughs, that lawyer’s here to see you. Mr. Harding.”
Vivienne felt her face flush with excitement, and she quickly looked down at the linen tablecloth.
“Is he? Show him to the withdrawing room,” Uncle Elias said as he rose. “He must have the preliminary draft of the settlement.”
She likewise stood. “May I come with you, Uncle, and hear what it says?”
“I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with that document.”
“I would rather be married than a man’s mistress.”
“I see. This is not the final version, not by a long ways,” he replied warily, obviously not sure what to think about her sudden interest. “You won’t be signing this.”
“Nevertheless, I would like to understand something of what will happen to my dowry if we decide I should marry Sir Philip, after all. Don’t you think I should?”
“Well,” Uncle Elias mused as he strolled to the door, “perhaps you should. I will not live forever, and you should have some notion of what is legally yours according to the settlement—if you marry.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
Together they went to the withdrawing room, and the moment she saw Rob standing so grave near the windows, happiness and heat combined within her.
Perhaps only she, of all the women in London, knew that a fiercely passionate man existed within that seemingly cool and reserved frame.
“Mr. Burroughs, Mistress Burroughs,” Rob said evenly as he bowed.
“Good day, Harding, good day,” her uncle cried, hurrying toward him. Vivienne hung back, determined not to betray to her uncle the emotions Rob invoked in her. “I gather you have brought the first draft of the settlement.”
“Yes, sir, I have,” Rob replied, pointing at the document already unrolled on the table beside him. There was a quill and ink at the ready, too.
“Excellent!” Uncle Elias glanced back at Vivienne. “I’ve decided to let my niece have a look at it and explain something of the terms.”
“A very wise decision, Mr. Burroughs. I would more of my clients took the trouble to have their families informed of their legal matters.”
Uncle Elias smiled and his chest swelled with pride. “I’faith, sir, I am not a fool, and neither is my niece. Besides, everybody knows how clever you legal fellows can be, eh?” He chortled and gestured for Vivienne to come closer.
She did so, acutely aware that Rob was looking at her, and that while his expression might not convey much to her uncle, she could see Rob’s regard for her deep in his dark eyes.
Her uncle took a chair at the table, and she another.
“Won’t you sit, Mr. Harding?”
“Thank you.” He sat beside Vivienne, so close that if she put out her hand, she could touch him.
She struggled to calm her breathing—and not to touch him.
“Now, Vivienne,” Uncle Elias began as if she were a simpleton, “we have it as follows: Your dowry
goes to your husband, but remains in trust, so that neither you nor your husband can draw on the principle. You, and you alone, are free to specify who shall inherit the principle upon your death. During your life, the interest naturally goes to your husband.”
“What if I have need of the principle?”
“What could you possibly need the principle for?” her uncle demanded. “Sir Philip is not a pauper.”
“I can think of several things. My husband may gamble away the interest, and all the rest of his own money. If he has control of the interest and I no other income, how would I be able to live?”
Uncle Elias looked at Rob and raised an eyebrow.
“We could amend it that your niece could draw on the principle if she needs it, or receive a sum from the principle yearly.”
“A yearly sum payable directly to me, or to my husband?”
“Directly to you,” Rob replied, looking at her with a steadfast gaze.
“But that would erode the principle,” Uncle Elias protested.
“What good will the principle do me if I and any children I may bear are reduced to living in poverty?”
“I must concede that is an excellent point, Mr. Burroughs,” Robert said. “Your niece would make a fine attorney, I think.”
Uncle Elias threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, yes, a woman attorney! What next—a woman physician? A female judge?”
“Who better than a woman to ensure that women and children are protected and considered?” Vivienne said.
“Again, your niece makes a fine point. And I must tell you, Mr. Burroughs, that I have seen this very situation. Indeed, I have gone to court to argue against such settlements, to allow a woman to get at money intended for her use, but not clearly stated as such.”
“And won, too, eh?”
“After a long battle. In the meantime, the woman and her children suffered greatly.”
“Vivienne could always come to me.”
“If you are alive and able to help financially. I think I need hardly point out to a man of your business experience that the future is never secure. There could be a war or natural disaster that has a serious impact on your trade, or some other catastrophe. Indeed, Mr. Burroughs, from what I understand of your business, it is even dependent on such intangibles as ladies’ tastes in fashion.”
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