David had inherited ten years ago, so it was a surprise to Daniel to find evidence of David’s former business in the cellar of Norwick House. What was David thinking to keep the paintings? Daniel wondered. Nostalgia? Daniel rather doubted any of the prostitutes featured in these paintings were favorites of David’s – the man preferred a string of mistresses he kept in their own homes. Besides the three harlots he knew to have gone onto become mistresses, he wondered if any of the other women gone on to become famous. He didn’t think so, although he wouldn’t know for sure unless he went through every painting, and he wasn’t about to do that – especially in Clarinda’s presence. So why keep the paintings?
Daniel shook his head. “I do not know why he kept these. I am sorry you saw them,” he apologized, reaching out to take one of Clarinda’s hands. “I shall see to it they are ... sold. Discreetly, of course,” he added. And I’ll take the matter up with David, next time he pays me a visit, he considered. The rake.
Clarinda regarded Daniel for a very long time, her eyes limned with tears. She believed what Daniel said, but she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by David. Damn him!
Without another word, she pulled her hand from Daniel’s and made her way out of the vault, out of the cellar and out of Norwick House.
Chapter 16
The Earls on Marriage
Despite having attended the funeral of a fellow earl, making a spectacle of himself by twirling the widow in front of a crowded church, and co-hosting the post-funeral reception at Worthington House, Milton Grandby, Earl of Torrington, strode into White’s at precisely seven o’clock for his usual evening visit. The butler nodded as he passed, surreptitiously checking the time on the clock in the entry to see that it was, indeed, seven o’clock.
A footman saw to his usual drink as he took his seat in a wingback chair near one of the card tables. Although the usual foursome wasn’t in place, Grandby knew at least two of them would be arriving shortly. He hoped one of them was Lord Everly. If the explorer hadn’t yet made arrangements for his sister, Lady Evangeline, to be married, Grandby intended to inform Everly he would be taking matters into his own hands. At three-and-twenty, it was high time the comely blonde was settled. And Grandby knew who would do the settling if it was up to him.
“Has Lord Everly arrived yet?” he asked the footman as the young man set his brandy on the small table next to his chair.
“He has, my lord. I believe he’s in the large card room.”
Grandby considered what to do. He pulled a crown from his coat pocket. “Could you let him know I would like to see him for a meeting of a private nature?” He held out the coin.
“Of course, my lord,” the footman replied as he took the crown and disappeared from the room.
A newly ironed copy of that day’s The Times lay on the table next to his drink. Although Grandby had read most of it that morning before the funeral, he picked it up and turned to the pages at the back. Having barely begun reading about some actress who was scheduled to begin a run in a Drury Lane production the following month, he was surprised when he heard the sound of a throat clearing. Lowering the paper, he found Lord Everly staring down at him.
“I believe I was summoned?” the explorer stated, his manner suggesting he was none too pleased at being interrupted during his game of whist.
“I simply requested to meet with you,” Grandby replied, setting the newspaper aside and indicating the chair adjacent to his own. “It’s about my goddaughter.”
Lord Everly’s eyes widened behind the gold wire spectacles he wore. “Which one?” he wondered as he took the chair to Grandby’s right. “Don’t you have ... some twenty or more?”
Grandby sighed, not wanting to admit he had no idea how many there were. He’d been deep in his cups when agreeing to be a godfather to the first four or five, and after that, it was almost expected that he would accept the honor even if the father hadn’t asked directly. “Your sister, of course,” he countered with a raised eyebrow. “I know of a possible suitor for your sister, and I hope you will give him your blessing – and encouragement – to court her.”
The explorer’s mouth opened and closed, not unlike the mouths of the fish he kept in the large tank in his library. “And what if I find this ... possible suitor ... lacking?”
His eyebrows arching up in surprise, Grandby regarded the younger man with a hint of derision. “Do you honestly think I would allow a less than suitable suitor to court your sister?”
Lord Everly shrugged and appeared suitably set down. “Well, I suppose not. But what makes you think my sister wants to be settled?”
The simple question caught Grandby off-guard. “She’s almost on the shelf, she’s lonely when she’s left behind at Everly Park when you’re off globe-trotting, and she told me so at the last ball,” he replied, his tone a bit impatient.
“Oh,” was all Everly could manage in response. He suddenly looked uncomfortable. He had to admit he knew his sister wanted to get married. She’d wanted to for the past two Seasons. But his trips to the ends of the earth hadn’t been conducive to her attending Society events. She needed a chaperone, and if her brother wasn’t in attendance, then neither was she.
“Have you someone in mind for her?” Grandby wondered. Perhaps the explorer had the perfect mate in mind but hadn’t yet made the necessary introductions. Or perhaps the mate wasn’t yet back in London for the Season.
Looking even more uncomfortable, Lord Everly seemed to squirm in his chair. “Yes, but I would be much obliged if you could give voice to your choice first. In case mine is ... less than suitable.”
Grandby nearly said the word, “Coward,” but managed to suppress the urge. “Lord Sommers, of course,” he stated, as if there could be no other choice for Lady Evangeline.
The sigh of relief that came from Lord Everly could almost be heard into the next room. “Of course. He was my choice as well. And I shall speak to him upon our next meeting,” he assured the Earl of Torrington.
Nearly draining his brandy in one gulp, Grandby nodded at the younger man. “See to it. If Lord Sommers hasn’t paid a call on Lady Evangeline by this time two days hence, I shall take matters into my own hands.” With that declaration, Grandby stood and bowed to Lord Everly before taking his leave of the men’s club. A footman near the entry double-checked the time on the clock, sighing with relief when he saw it displayed seven-forty-five.
Lord Everly watched as the older earl left the club, shaking his head ever so slightly. How had Grandby guessed Sommers was Everly’s first choice for his sister? Everly hadn’t discussed the matter with anyone. Not even his sister. Evangeline had attempted to raise the issue at least a couple of times in the last week, knowing that Everly wouldn’t leave on his next expedition until she was suitably settled with a suitable gentleman of the ton. But the idea of arranging his sister’s marriage was such a source of consternation, Everly had avoided the issue at every turn. What if his choice proved a poor choice? He’d never be able to forgive himself if Evangeline was left unhappy. Or if her husband turned out to be deep in debt or deep in his cups or deeply disturbed, Everly would end up deeply depressed.
No, it was far better that someone else – someone of Grandby’s choosing – be his sister’s husband. Then Everly could head off for the islands of the Caribbean for his next adventure knowing Grandby had the situation well in hand. And if Grandby would see to encouraging Lord Sommers to court his sister, then there really was no reason for Everly to discuss the matter with his friend – especially if he wasn’t going to be meeting the man in the next two days.
He could easily avoid Jeffrey Althorpe for two days.
After three, Grandby would have spoken with the man. Baron Sommers and his sister might be betrothed in four.
And, with any luck, his sister would be married by this time next week, and he could be on his way to th
e Caribbean! Everly made his way back to his game of whist, a knowing smile the only evidence of his logical thought process.
Chapter 17
Adele Gives Her Advice
“Thank you so much for not turning me away,” Clarinda said when Adele swept into the Worthington House parlor at seven o’clock in the evening. Although the funeral and reception had gone well, the reading of the will had raised more questions than it had answered. Why had David kept the paintings from his brothel? Why hadn’t David been more specific about the monetary arrangements? Why had he left so much to Daniel’s discretion?
And from where (or whom) had Dorothea been left with the impression that David wanted her to marry Daniel?
Clarinda felt exhaustion overwhelm her. Given the oddities revealed during the solicitor’s visit, she didn’t look forward to that night’s dinner with Dorothea and Daniel. In a display of true cowardice, and with several cobwebs still attached to her skirts, she had taken leave of Norwick House with not so much as a word to anyone but Porter, who had arranged the town coach and the driver who now waited out in the drive in front of Worthington House.
Adele gave her friend a heartfelt hug. “Clare! I could no more turn you away than my own husband. Even if he was three sheets to the wind,” she claimed, stepping back to regard Clarinda. Tendrils of cobwebs clung to the silk of Clarinda’s gown, the light gray contrasting so much with the black fabric that they were hard to ignore. “What has happened?” She started to allow Clarinda to answer and then said, “Besides my husband having embarrassed himself in front of the entire church with his pronouncement to the bishop of your condition?” she added, sotto voce, not letting on that she had noticed the cobwebs.
Clarinda’s eyebrows cocked up as she grinned. “And yet, I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t say anything about your condition,” she accused, her manner almost breathless.
Adele rolled her eyes and tried hard to suppress her surprise at Clarinda’s manner. “Believe me, he made sure the bishop knew long before we left St. George’s,” she claimed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I nearly died of embarrassment!”
Clarinda regarded her friend with furrowed brows. “Why? Why would you think it so hard for people to believe you to be with child?” she wondered.
The older woman shook her head but finally allowed her shoulders to drop. “I never imagined me to be with child, Clare. Never in my life did I think I would ever have a baby. And now Grandby is talking about having two!”
Clarinda giggled, imagining her godfather’s enthusiasm for fatherhood. “Let me guess –he wants a girl first and then a boy,” she offered, grinning mischievously.
Adele’s eye widened in surprise. “How did you know?” she asked, her hands going out to her sides.
“You could have twins and get it over with in one pregnancy,” Clarinda offered, the humor gone from her voice.
Her eyes widening even more, Adele stared at her. “No!” she replied in alarm. “Is that ...” Her eyes turned to slits as she regarded her friend. “Is that what you’re doing?” She asked the question as if Clarinda had some say in the matter.
“I ...” Clarinda paused, not sure how she should tell her friend how she knew she was carrying twins. “I have reason to believe I carry twins,” she acknowledged with a hesitant nod.
Adele stepped back, her eyes now blinking. “Oh!” she replied. “You might carry a boy and a girl. Or one of each!”
Clarinda’s eyebrows furrowed as she considered Adele’s phrasing, deciding she wouldn’t correct the countess. I’d better not have two of each, she thought. At least, not all at once. “Exactly,” she replied. “But that’s not my immediate problem,” she added, remembering why she’d taken the trip to Worthington House at a time she knew Grandby would be at White’s. Adele’s inhalation of breath had Clarinda pausing. “What is it?” she wondered.
“Was there something ... in Norwick’s will?” Adele asked, her expression indicating alarm. She remembered Clarinda saying the funeral reception would need to be kept short as the solicitor was expected at Norwick House at four o’clock that afternoon.
Rolling her eyes, Clarinda shrugged and shook her head. She hadn’t even thought to tell Adele about the comedy of errors that had only concluded two hours earlier. “Too much,” she finally answered. “Not the least of which was the revelation that my husband has a collection of paintings in the cellar.” She still didn’t know what to think of those paintings. Why would David have kept them? For his own titillation? Or did they have some other value?
“Nudes?” Adele half-questioned, her eyebrow arching up in amusement.
Clarinda fought hard to hide her surprise. Leave it to Adele to correctly guess the nature of the paintings. “How did you guess?” Clarinda replied with a wiggle of her own eyebrows. “They’re from ... the brothel he used to own,” she whispered. “There must be twenty of them. Daniel said they were like menu boards – to show what a harlot looked like so a gentleman could choose which one he wanted.”
Adele mouth opened a bit, but not in alarm. “Really?” she murmured slowly. “The Elegant Courtesans. Did you ... look at them?”
Clarinda’s own mouth dropped open. Adele knew of the brothel? Clarinda was about to deny having seen their subjects but decided to tell the truth. “A few of them. Ann and Angelika, a brunette with a quill and some buxom blonde. I was so angry, so hurt – I had to leave.”
Adele’s head dipped a bit. “Samuel’s favorite was a woman named Meg. She had dark red hair and could do somersaults in bed,” Adele claimed, her delivery so calm Clarinda had to blink a couple of times.
“Somersaults?” Clarinda repeated, doing her best to keep her mouth closed.
Adele gave her a shrug in return. “So he said. I only know because he used to tell me everything when he was drunk. Meg was just one of the reasons I didn’t mourn him,” she whispered with a shake of her head.
Clarinda inhaled slowly, realizing just then that she should be grateful David hadn’t bedded anyone else since their wedding. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her head shaking a bit. “I knew of David’s businesses, of course,” she said with a sigh. “I know I probably shouldn’t have known, but ... I wasn’t about to be wedded to someone only to find out he was a rake, not like Lady Brockhold did,” she explained, remembering how the petite milk water miss, a perfect gently bred daughter of an earl, had married a viscount who not only kept a string of mistresses but also had at least four illegitimate children and was deeply in debt. “So, when our fathers arranged the marriage, I used my allowance to pay a former Bow Street Runner to find out everything about David. And then I used what I discovered to demand his fidelity. He had already sold the businesses, of course, but I thought it best to be certain he wasn’t bedding a mistress or two.”
Adele pursed her lips, as if she had to hide a smile. “I did the same before I married Milton,” she whispered.
Clarinda nodded, not surprised by the admission. Adele’s first marriage might have left her a wealthy woman, but she deserved every pence she inherited. To use some of that money to pay for an investigator before marrying another rake made a good deal of sense. “Why do you suppose David kept the paintings?” she asked, obviously still annoyed with her late husband.
Shrugging, Adele crossed her arms. “Because he could? Because he liked them? Because the artist might one day be famous, and they’ll be worth buckets of blunt?” she countered, a wan smile appearing. “What’s to become of them in the meantime?”
Clarinda sighed. “It’s up to Daniel. He assured me he would see to it they disappeared.”
Smiling, Adele cocked her head to one side. “That’s not all that’s got you upset, though,” she accused, realizing Clarinda harbored more troubling news.
Clarinda started to object until she remembered the part of the will where David claimed she
should continue to live at Norwick House and that David should take up residence there. She told Adele about David’s wishes, all the while wondering about David’s motives. What could her husband have been thinking? The arrangement was practically scandalous! “Adele, what do I do tomorrow? In the coach? On the way to Sussex?”
Adele took Clarinda’s hand and led her to the nearest chair, indicating she should sit down. “Will Daniel’s mother be with you?” she asked carefully, an eyebrow cocked to add weight to her question.
“Yes,” Clarinda replied carefully.
“Then your problem is solved. Dorothea will talk the entire trip – you won’t need to say a word,” she claimed, shaking her head.
Although there was wisdom to Adele’s words, Clarinda shook her head. “She’ll run out of talk eventually,” she countered.
The older countess regarded her with sympathy. “Clare, if it was up to me, I would apologize to Mr. Fitzwilliam ...”
“Apologize?” Clarinda interrupted, astonished at her friend’s comment.
“Apologize. The man adores you. Even Grandby noticed. In fact, Norwick looked just like Milton did when he was about to ask for my hand,” she said as she took Clarinda’s hands in hers. “And when Norwick does offer – Milton is quite sure the man will do so because he would be a fool not to – accept him,” she finished, holding her breath as she watched the volcano building right before her eyes. “Clare, please, think about it. He loves you. He needs you. You’re expecting ... twins, perhaps ... and they’ll need a father,” she said in a voice that was as soft as a sigh.
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