by Suzi Love
His nonsense forced a laugh out of her. “Twaddle. You’ve faced hundreds of women in hundreds of ballrooms for years and never worried. In fact, you exalt in their attention.”
“With that class of ladies, I know where I stand. Know when to flirt, when to retreat. Know that the majority of them don’t expect anything more from me than some inane comment regarding the day’s weather.” He indicated the women watching them.
“These women are far more intelligent. Far shrewder. I’m terrified of making a mistake, because they will most certainly know. And condemn me for it.”
She didn’t laugh this time. Under his words, tossed about like a jest, she sensed the hint of true anxiety. Knew he truly feared failing these women who were depending on him so much. Linking her arm through his, she started to walk slowly towards the door of the Society. Though her stomach clenched, she turned towards him and lifted her mouth in a small semblance of a smile.
“Shall I tell you a secret, my lord?”
He patted her hand where it rested on his coat sleeve. “If it is something that will give me more confidence in facing these women, please, by all means.”
“I, too, am terrified each time I come here.”
He stared at her with lowered brows and his even white teeth worrying his bottom lip.
She nodded. “You see, like you, I fear not measuring up to the high standards set by others.”
He cocked an eye at her. “Becca?”
“Yes, Becca, with her mathematical acumen, helps these women so much. A hard person to imitate when my own skills with accounting are decidedly hopeless.”
He grinned. “So the sole reason I’m allowed escort you on days such as this, is so you may bring me here as a substitute for your sister. Should I have donned a gown?”
“Oh, no, I assure you, these particular women would rather see your more manly attributes displayed.”
His mouth twitched. “My problem is wondering if any of these women may have seen any parts of me displayed at the…ah… places where they work.”
She swallowed. Her hands covered her mouth. She spoke between her fingers. “I–I’d never considered that you may know any of the women we assist.”
He shook his head and pulled her hand away. “Sorry, sweetheart. That was a jest. A stupid one. It’s because my nerves are a little frayed today.”
“Why? Has something happened?”
“No, no, nothing to concern yourself with. A small problem that my cousins and I shall deal with, and hopefully terminate once and for all, later this afternoon.”
He placed her hand back on his sleeve with his usual finesse, yet he appeared ill-at-ease. Tense somehow. And she knew it was not any silly fear of meeting a room full of past or present street walkers. With his reputation, he’d no doubt encountered hundreds of them. That image did not sit well with her and now she felt uneasy. Perhaps the small problem he and his male cousins had later on concerned females. That image caused her stomach to roil and her fingers clutched at his sleeve.
He gave her a little frown and eased the grip she held on his sleeve. “And Lottie? Do you feel the need to compete with her?”
“A little, yes.” She shrugged. “My younger sister is also brilliant in her own way. Apart from her study of several of the new sciences–”
She giggled.
“When you giggle like a school-room girl, it’s like music to my ears. When others give silly laughs, it’s like fingernails scraped down a plaster wall.”
“That comical image of Lottie worshipping the hills and dales on your head with her fingertips caused my mirth. Apart from her love of lumps and bumps, Lottie interprets people’s movements and facial expressions. From studying them, she attributes emotions and intentions and motivations. She also understands several languages, so she can interpret the nuances of people’s spoken words as well. There are few secrets that are withheld from her when she wants to learn them.”
“Good heavens. I think I’ll remove my head and my expressions from her vicinity. Can’t think of anything worse than someone knowing my every thought.”
“I share little of Lottie’s skills, and only a small amount of her knowledge of the new sciences. I’ve been with her to some demonstrations of the theories of Franz Gall, where they try to show that our characteristics and criminality are determined by the shape of our head.”
“So, when we catch Lady Hetherington, Lottie will read her cranial bumps and see if her criminal traits have always been with her, or if living with a corrupt husband led to adopt the same procedures.”
“Oh, very good, Richard. You’ve been studying it.”
He gave one of his careless shrugs that didn’t fool her for a moment. The man devoured knowledge faster than the printing presses could produce it.
“I purchased George Combe’s boring book and read all of forty pages before throwing it at the wall.”
She snorted. “Good grief. Not…um…The Constitution of Man and Elements of Phrenology?” When he nodded she burst into laughter. “Nobody else of my acquaintance has managed the first ten pages. What a hero you are. Why did you attempt it?”
He gave another of those shrugs that gave away nothing, then grinned. “Perhaps I did it to impress you.”
She squinted at him to see if he was again testing her patience. Though he looked at least half way serious. She sighed. She never knew where she stood with this frustrating man.
“Hum. Well, perhaps I’ll frighten you with the knowledge that I can sense a lot of your thoughts.”
His eyebrows shot upwards. “That would terrify me. But I know you’re lying.”
“How?”
“Because if you’d read my thoughts when you bent to descend from the carriage, you’d now be blushing from head to toe. You see, from my position, I could peer straight down the front of that deliciously low neckline and see—”
She gasped, looked down, and attempted to hitch up the neckline of her gown with one hand. It stayed tightly adhered to her bosom. ‘You couldn’t see anything of the sort, you liar.”
He flashed her a wicked grin. ‘No, but I do have a truly vivid imagination.”
She gave him a small slap to his wrist and marched to the door, shooing the inquisitive ladies inside as she went. As had always happened before when he’d accompanied her, the women were grateful to have Richard’s help with their accounts, and he mingled easily with them, standing on no ceremony, no matter who they were or in which street they resided.
He demonstrated a simple way to keep a tally of the money they earned in a notebook and then subtract their expenses each month to show what they might be left with, and how much they might afford to use for their investments. Then he wrote down an up-to-date list of the share opportunities coming up and gave his personal forecast for each.
Because he regularly visited Threadneedle Street, he spoke to the eager listeners about recent discussions in the coffee houses amongst the traders. These women knew—as did Laura—that for them to go to these places would cause a stir. There remained the old guard, who disapproved of women being involved in anything to do with the banking or market precincts and often forcibly removed them. Having the Earl, a direct participant each day, relay the latest news was far, far better than paying for news sheets and pouring over them by dim candles at night.
He set them to work on their accounting, and strolled around the perimeter of the room to watch and be on hand if anyone needed assistance.
“You’re very good with them,” Laura said. “Most gentlemen would never set foot in this house, and would never agree to teach women in trades how to budget their own money.”
“I enjoy doing it. I struggled with schooling when I was a child and I know how demoralizing it can be to not be able to undertake simple tasks like these for yourself. And while we spend two hours here, I have my men out working on our other problems.”
She groaned. “Something warns me that we are falling behind in this race. That the Syndicate is winnin
g. I also worry about Lottie and my aunt at home while I am here. But they assured me they would be perfectly fine without me while I attended to several errands.”
“You didn’t send me a list of the addresses you intend visiting this afternoon, as I requested.”
“And you haven’t told me where you’re going. So we are even.”
“I need to know so I can accompany you. Protect you.”
“And who protects you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Your hypocritical attitude becomes annoying. You insist on knowing where I’m going. You want to accompany me everywhere. Yet now, when I have finally accustomed myself to your irritating presence, you acts in a secretive way and have a mysterious rendezvous. If I was a suspicious sort of female, or your wife–”
“Heaven forbid,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“I’d assume you were visiting a new mistress.” She leaned closer and her eyes widened. “You’re wearing your nighttime cologne. The special one I mixed with musk and sandalwood. The one you said puts you in mind of a seductive evening.”
Her mouth opened but she couldn’t speak the words. The size of her blunder mortified her. She felt her face redden. “Oh!”
He shook his head and tapped her mouth closed with a finger. “No, my curious little cat. I do not have a new mistress, and no, I’ll not discuss this subject any further with you.”
She remained mute, disconcerted, considering the situation as he prowled the room and performed his duties with effortlessness and honesty, unperturbed by their conversation.
In return for his able assistance, the women were eager to share the news they had collected around the back streets and alleyways of the city. No one mentioned the reasons they were out working on these streets, or in the houses fronting them, late at night. Laura and Richard accepted every tiny piece of shared information as though it was a gold bar. Each piece of the jigsaw would help them piece together the bigger picture. Hopefully very soon.
“Ruth, you must take care when you search the receipts of your abbess,” Richard told the doe-eyed beauty almost sitting in his lap.
“We know Lady Hetherington’s organization has control of as twenty broth… ah…visiting houses, and perhaps even more. Her blackmail schemes seem to have netted her many, many unfortunates who are now obliged to do her bidding.” He patted the girl’s hand. “I’d be devastated if any harm came to you, pet.”
“Oh, my lord, I does it all for love of you.” When the other women all tittered, she flushed. “And for us. If ′un the Yard catches these crooks fast, we’ll be safer goin′ ′bout our business at night. More trade means more coppers to save in my little tin box.” She smiled up at Richard, with a worshipful smile. “And the more you’ll ′av to ′elp me with me sums.”
Laura cleared her throat, but no one took any notice. She did it again, louder.
“I think it is time the Earl and I departed. I know he has another pressing appointment this afternoon.”
Did she imagine it, or did he squirm slightly at her words? He didn’t meet her gaze as he disengaged Ruth’s clinging hand and stood to his feet. He bowed deeply. A collective sigh rose from the women, some old enough to be his mother. One who had long retired from rough trade could even be his grandmother. This was too much. These women, who should be immune to every man’s charms, looked about to swoon at his feet.
“Ladies, it has been a pleasure as always. And remember, if you hear word of any men going about the local tradesmen, the shopkeepers, or the owners of your establishments, and trying to set up rings of investors, send word to my townhouse. You all have my card with the address.”
In unison, they nodded. “We need to stop these men before they convince any more innocent people with a little cash to spare to invest in their fraudulent schemes.”
As they walked to the door, the women’s chatter came to Laura’s ears.
“He’s ever so handsome.”
“I do envy Lady Laura having that one dangling on her line.”
“Hope she knows how to reel him in.”
“Hope she remembers some of those tricks we’ve taught her and her sisters.”
Beside her, she could hear Richard’s snorts and chuckles as he struggled, unsuccessfully, to keep his mirth under control until they reached her waiting carriage. He lasted until he’d handed her inside and waited until she settled her skirts. He leaned in the open door.
“I’m simply breathless with anticipation to know the tricks you’ve learned. Especially if Ruth taught you.”
He ducked his head back from the opening in time to dodge the object she’d flung at his head: her notebook. He bent to the ground and retrieved it, flicking through a few pages as he held it up in the air. “Always wondered what you wrote about me in here.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
He grinned and stepped back, signaling to her coachman to drive on. “I’d dare anything where you’re concerned, my dear.”
As the carriage pulled away, he waved the notebook jauntily in the air, his mouth wide open with a smug, self-satisfied grin. She leaned as far out the window as she could and reached for it, but only grasped thin air.
She let out a string of curses, the sailors’ ones she seemed to only use in his presence. His laughter rang in her ears. She banged her bonnet back against the upholstered head rest, not caring that she crushed its pretty brim. Ooh! She hated more than anything the times when he got the better of her.
Especially when she lost her temper over it. Like now.
She trusted him to not read her private scribbling, yet, if the situations were reversed, she doubted she’d be so keen to guarantee his privacy. The temptation to take a peek into his private thoughts might prove too much for her. Would it for him though? Double blast the man. She tried to calculate the weeks until the bride and groom returned, and she could be relieved of some of her duties involving the Earl. She still wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing, or a disaster.
Laura’s bad humor evaporated some time later, not from any excitement over paying two boring and regulated duty calls, but due to her excitement over the four paper-wrapped books that rested beside her on the carriage seat. She loved books, adored them. And now that the Jamison’s finances were once again sound, she could afford this little occasional extravagance.
A visit to Mr. Robert’s shop meant a long journey home, but she smiled, appreciating the silence inside the carriage in contrast to the busying traffic outside, as working day people began to wend their way home.
Some were on foot, some in omnibuses, and some via the train companies that the majority of their investments were with. She leaned her arm on the window ledge and watched the hustle and bustle in each new street they turned down.
So often in the City they were travelling at night, on their way to attend dinners, balls and musicals, and she saw little. Today, however, the yellowing afternoon light softened the normal glaring grime of gutters and streets and made them appear lighter, more habitable. She smiled, enjoying the moment.
As the carriage wound around streets she rarely travelled, Laura checked her little watch. If the rest of their trip continued on this way, her aunt would be fretting because she would be late.
Perhaps she could take home a small gift to appease her anxiety. She pulled opened the roof flap and spoke to her coachman, ordering him to stop a few streets further on at the tiny sweet shop that sold the boiled sweets her aunt adored.
John coachman pulled the carriage to a halt in front of a long stretch of parkland and turned to lean down and speak to her.
“Sorry, my lady, but this ′ere’s close as I could manage to yon shop. Street’s too full of cart sellers. Small market goin′ on.”
He waved towards the side of the road, where carts piled high with fruits and vegetables stood side by side. “You keep Warren close behind you, mind, ′cause ′is lordship gave orders that we keep you safe.”
Laura hid her annoyance. Ric
hard’s issuing orders to her servants irritated her, yet she understood his reasoning well enough. She also knew why John coachman and Warren would be eager to not upset the Earl. Richard’s cold stare could freeze the blood in an enemy’s veins, and she’d seen grown men quake in their boots at a few sharp words from him.
She managed a small smile for Warren. “Stay close then. We wouldn’t want to upset the Earl, would we?”
Not expecting a reply to her dry comment, even from outspoken Warren, she turned and walked down the footpath, twisting and weaving between wagons and pedestrians. Once or twice she checked over her shoulder to reassure herself that her escort followed close on her heels. Reaching the shop, she indicated to Warren to wait outside, opened the door and stepped inside, smiling as she inhaled the familiar sweet smell. The plump rosy-cheeked wife of the proprietor boiled and rolled children’s peppermint sticks in her back room, on the same stove where she cooked Aunt Aggie’s favorite toffees.
The mix of strong smells, caramel, vanilla and lemon, flooded her nostrils, the power of it almost too much for her oversensitivity to cope with. She withdrew her kerchief from her pocket, used to this occurrence after so many years dealing with oils and aromas and blends of fragrances.
“Oh, my dear Lady Laura, so lovely to see you again,” the beaming little lady gushed, “although I notice the kerchief is already to your nose, you poor dear, and yes, I do understand, because I too suffer with same affliction, on many, many occasions, and especially on those occasions when I’m mixing a particularly large batch of sweets that need a strong, stringent base oil to give the flavor or aroma and–”
Laura pulled the kerchief away from her nose long enough to interrupt the flow of words. “I’d love to stay and compare ingredients and blends, as I know you’re like me and have so few people with which to discuss things such as distilling oils. But I must purchase my aunt’s gift and depart, or I shall be very late for dinner and she’ll fret.”
The darling woman apologized several times for keeping a valued customer waiting, as her husband wrapped a large quantity of toffee in a paper roll and secured it with a pretty ribbon. The pair, as round and happy as a pair of summer robins, escorted her to the door, still chattering, still smiling. Being with this couple never failed to lift her spirits.