Scandal's Mistress (A Novel of Lord Hawkesbury's Players) Page 3

  “Yes, Elizabeth. As to her, she is too young, Mother. I require a wife nearer my own age. Someone with good sense, a sweet nature, and a clear conscience.” He paused, thinking of Alice Croft and the easy way in which her thoughts followed his. A mind like hers would be an asset in a marriage. He shook his head and almost managed to dislodge the image of her. “A quick wit would be welcome too.”

  “You’re only allowed one wife,” Lady Warhurst muttered.

  Lately, having a sensible conversation with his mother was like raking fingernails across skin. A little painful and very irritating. “Shall we add obedient to the list too?” he said, more to annoy her than anything else.

  She gave him a tight smile. “I hear Whitby’s bitch has just had a litter of pups,” she said. “Perhaps one of those would suit.”

  He ignored the jibe. “And my wife must be strong enough to survive my family.”

  She linked her hands in front of her and rubbed a thumb across the largest of her emerald rings. It had been a wedding gift from his father, the second Baron Warhurst, before he’d squandered the family fortune. She’d continued to wear the ring even after he died and she remarried. Her second husband, Leo’s stepfather, had bought her the other rings to match it.

  “You forgot the most important characteristic,” she said.

  “That she must come from impeccable stock? No, Mother, I had not forgotten. It goes without saying.”

  “At least we agree on that. But Son…” She came out from behind her desk and took his arm, squeezing it in an uncharacteristically maternal gesture. “Do you think you could lower your expectations a little? I’ve already exhausted all the eligible young women of my acquaintance and you’ve not liked a single one. Why, pray, are you being so particular?”

  It was a question he’d often asked himself. His mother had presented several suitable candidates, but after meeting each of them in turn, he’d not been able to go through with the contracts. “Am I being particular?” he said. “Do you honestly think I would be happy with any of the women you’ve tried to marry me to?”

  She sighed again and her entire body seemed to deflate. Suddenly the tall, proud woman appeared smaller, older, weaker. Three words he’d never thought he’d associate with his mother. “I’m sorry your father did not leave the Warhurst title and estate in good standing for you, Leo. But what is done is done and it is now up to you to fix it.”

  “By marrying well.” He took his mother’s hand and brought it to his lips. She rarely spoke of his father, but when she did, a transformation always came over her. Usually she bristled with anger or frustration, but this weariness was new. He didn’t like it. Didn’t know how to deal with it. “Don’t worry, Mother. I know what I must do and that is exactly why I must choose my wife carefully. I, too, want to see the title returned to good favor. I want my children to inherit one of England’s jewels, not a decaying country residence clinging to poor land and a title with nothing but scandal attached to it. I want them to be proud to bear the Warhurst name.”

  As he’d never been.

  She patted his cheek. “Take the letter to Lady Norwich and see the girl for yourself. She may surprise you.”

  He doubted it. But if it would appease his mother then his life would be marginally easier, at least in the short term. “If you wish.” He left the room, but the feeling that he’d just been manipulated by the grand dame of manipulation dogged him all the way to Lilly’s apartments.

  With a wry smile he knocked on his sister’s door. She bade him enter. She reclined on her daybed at the far side of her withdrawing room, her feet tucked beneath the folds of her skirts. He was shocked by how colorless and small she looked amid the mountain of pillows. She’d always been so bright herself, like a vibrant gem, the glory of the family with her glossy black hair and her dancing green eyes. Now her hair was dull and her eyes flat. No light danced in their depths.

  “Ah, Leo.” She held out her hands and he took them. They were cold and as fragile as icicles. “Where have you been?”

  “Greeting friends I’ve not seen since I was last in London.”

  “Reacquainting yourself with your old haunts, no doubt,” she said with a hint of her famous smile.

  “I have no haunts in London unless you count the archery butts in Finsbury Fields. And the palace, of course.” The palace, always the bloody palace. It was where he should be now, finding out what had changed with the queen since his last visit to the city. Who was the new favorite? Who should he avoid? Who had control over which duties? Whose back should he scratch until his fingers bled?

  God he hated court.

  “I find that very hard to believe,” she said. “I seem to recall you cut quite a swathe through the city’s better inns for a time.”

  And some of the worst ones too, but he saw no point in reminding his half sister of the fact. The days when he would drink to excess were over. Youthful anger coupled with cheap wine had resulted in too many aches in the head. When he grew older and wiser, he’d realized an aching head wasn’t going to get back what his father had lost.

  “I’d much rather be here talking to you, Lilly.” He suddenly smiled.

  “Why are you smiling at me like that?” she asked.

  “I’m happy.”

  She made a sort of grunting sound, albeit a delicate one. “Where have you been this morning?”

  “Looking for Lord Hawkesbury.” He picked up a candied fig from a trencher that she’d not touched, but she snatched it from him before he popped it in his mouth.

  “Those are for me.” She took a bite and glared at him defiantly.

  “I see I’ve hit a raw nerve.” He’d not meant to wound her. Indeed, how was he to know she cared enough for the cur that the mere mention of his name would turn her into an angrier version of their mother. To his half brother’s credit, Blake had warned him that Lilly loved the earl.

  Foolish, blind girl. And she used to be so sensible too.

  “Those are also mine,” she said, dragging the trencher of sweetmeats onto her lap.

  Until she said it, he hadn’t been aware he’d been staring at them. His stomach growled. Lilly’s smile was all childish petulance.

  “Good,” he said. “You should eat them. You’re fading away.” He pulled a chair closer to her and sat down. “I don’t like seeing you this way.”

  “You mean carrying a bastard child?”

  He winced. “I mean ill. Like a shadow. You sit here in your rooms day after day.” He indicated the books piled up beside her needlepoint. “All you do is read or embroider. You never go anywhere anymore.”

  “That’s because I don’t wish to vomit in front of our friends.”

  It seemed she wanted to make the conversation difficult. Very well. He would bite. “I hate what Hawkesbury’s done to you.”

  “You and Robert are obviously cut from the same cloth,” she muttered. “I seem to recall him also forgetting that I had something to do with my condition.”

  He sighed. “Lilly—”

  “No! No, Leo!” She returned the trencher to the table, stood, and went to the oriel window. She stared down at the central courtyard below, crossing her arms over her waist as if holding onto her unborn babe. “Leave Lord Hawkesbury alone.” She sounded as faint as her complexion. “He will not marry me, no matter how hard you try to force his hand. He’s going to be wed to Patience Enderby, who is also carrying his child. He made his choice.”

  “Blake says Hawkesbury assured him the girl’s babe is not his. You don’t believe him?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that it is better for everyone that you accept Hawkesbury’s decision. It’s better for all of us if you get on with your own business.”

  “My own business!” Hot, sharp rage spiked through him. “My business is to create the best future for my family. A secure, happy future where they are admired and respected. Your…state is an impediment.” He regretted it as soon as he said it, but he couldn
’t take the words back. That would only lessen their impact. Lilly needed to understand that her actions had a far-reaching effect.

  “You speak of a family you don’t yet have, Leo.” He had to step closer to hear her, but then he was sorry he did. The sorrow in her words stripped him to the bone. “But what of your current family? What of your brother and sister? Do we not matter in this future of yours?”

  He stood utterly still and stared at her back. Sunlight picked out the deep green hues of her gown, the luster of the pearls in her earrings, the pureness of the white ruff at her throat. It warmed his skin and melted his anger. “Of course you matter.” He touched her arm, tentatively, and felt her shudder beneath his fingers. She didn’t pull away. “Forgive me?”

  She hesitated then turned into him and buried her face in his chest. If she cried, she didn’t make a sound. He held her and considered ramming Hawkesbury through with his blade, but since that wasn’t a viable option, he tried to steer her away from her woes by mentioning their brother’s luck.

  “It seems Blake will be the only one of us to find happiness this year.”

  “He doesn’t have to be.” She looked up at him with her huge green eyes. “Why can’t you be more like Robert?”

  “You wish me to become a pirate?” He knew it wasn’t what she was suggesting but he wanted to return to their familiar, and safe, bantering.

  “I mean find a sweet girl and fall madly in love with her.”

  “Ha! You wish me to take leave of my duty and my senses?” Blake should have sorted out the whole bloody mess between Lilly and Hawkesbury in the days after his return to London, but instead he’d fallen in love and dumped the burden onto Leo. If that’s what love did to a man, then he wanted none of it.

  “I am aware that Min is not the sort of girl you can marry, Leo. Her family is hardly reputable, but that was not important in Robert’s case. What I am referring to is their happiness, their suitability, and their deep affection. Min has transformed him.”

  “And you want a woman to transform me?”

  She sighed. “I simply want you to be happy. We all do. You’re such a tyrant lately.”

  “And you think falling in love will make me less of a tyrant? Make me happy?” He scoffed. “I am hardly a poetry-reading, soft-headed youth.”

  “Neither is Robert and yet Min makes him happy.” She smiled wanly and wiped his doublet where her face had been moments ago. “Spend more time with him and you’ll see.”

  “Now that we are both in the one place together, spending more time with him will be inevitable. But if he spouts poetry at me I shall be forced to shut his mouth with my fist.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” said a familiar voice behind him.

  “Robert!” Lilly let go of Leo and ran to her other brother.

  Blake caught her face between his hands and frowned. “You’ve been crying.” He turned on Leo. “What have you said to her?”

  “Nothing you shouldn’t have already said before my arrival in London.”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. He looked like he wanted to knock their half brother’s head off his shoulders.

  Lilly placed a hand on her brother’s arm. “Robert,” she warned. “Not here. My maid’s just changed the rushes.”

  Blake seemed to relax, just a little, and Leo almost smiled at his sister’s technique for diffusing potentially explosive situations.

  “My study,” he said to Blake. “Now. We have business to discuss.”

  “Very well, go and talk about me behind my back. Everyone else will be soon enough,” Lilly added, patting her still-flat belly.

  “Oh, Lil,” Blake said, kissing the top of her head.

  “No they won’t,” Leo said, brushing past them both. “They’ll be praising you on your fortunate marriage. Come, Blake.”

  “Yes, my lord,” he mocked. “As you wish.”

  Leo waited for Blake to take his leave of Lilly then together they walked to Leo’s study in silence. When they reached the sparsely furnished room on the south side of the house, Leo indicated his half brother should sit. Blake remained standing.

  “I spoke to Alice Croft this morning,” Leo said, sitting at his desk. If his brother wanted to stand, so be it.

  Blake’s face lightened a little at the mention of her name. “How is she? Still giving her father headaches?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Leo pulled out a sheet of parchment. “But I’m sure she is. A woman like her…” He trailed off, aware his brother was watching him with a smile.

  “Yes?” Blake prompted.

  “She is entirely too clever for a woman of her station.”

  Blake tipped his head back and laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “I’m not sure there is such a thing as a woman being too clever, but that’s where you and I differ. I like a woman with wit.”

  “It’s not the only thing we disagree on. Will you bloody sit down! My neck is aching having to look up at you.”

  Blake sat, still smiling. “Did Alice agree to spy on Hawkesbury for you?”

  Leo nodded. “For a price.” He told his brother about the arrangement he’d forged with Mistress Croft, including Blake’s own role to play with London’s merchants and his betrothed’s wedding dress.

  Blake listened and agreed. “She’s thought of everything. It’ll be a good arrangement for her and I’ve no doubt she’ll make a success of any venture she takes on. But you’re a fool, Leo.”

  “For agreeing to her terms?” He’d been wondering the same thing. What if the seamstress decided it wasn’t enough and demanded more from him to keep her silence?

  “For spying on Hawkesbury at all. Our sister doesn’t want the union.”

  “So she says,” Leo said. “But you know as well as I do that she’s lying. Despite everything, she still loves the cold-blooded cur. Would you deny her that love?”

  Blake snorted softly. “You speak of love as if you know what it is. But I can assure you that you do not. Not yet.” He leaned forward and regarded Leo with sympathy. Sympathy!

  Ha! Blake was the poor fool who’d fallen victim to soft-headed tendencies, not the other way round.

  “Our sister does love Hawkesbury,” Blake went on, “but that is precisely why she cannot marry him. Not unless he wants the union too. Wholeheartedly.”

  Leo shook his head. His brother was talking nonsense again. Falling in love had a lot to answer for. “She needs to marry him or she will be ruined.”

  “As will your chances of returning to the fold at court if she does not?” Blake scoffed. “This isn’t about you, Leo.”

  Leo shot to his feet, rounded the desk, and grabbed Blake by the front of his doublet. He would have hauled Blake to his feet but his half brother rose of his own accord, his arms outstretched in surrender. Damn him. Leo could do with a good fight. At least if he fought Blake there’d be no repercussions afterward. Well, not as many as if he fought a stranger in the street.

  “I am well aware of that,” Leo said, shoving Blake away. “How can I not be in this family?”

  “Leo—”

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “I’ve already said I will.”

  Leo returned to the desk and retrieved the quill from the inkstand. He handed it to Blake. “Write a letter of introduction to one of your cloth merchant contacts for Mistress Croft. Then go and tell Minerva that the seamstress will be making her a gown for her wedding feast. Don’t mention anything about our arrangement.”

  Blake took the pen and dipped it in the ink. “I will mention everything to Min whether you like it or not.” Leo began to protest so Blake stopped writing. “We have no secrets between us.”

  “How sweet.” Sickeningly so.

  “Min can be trusted.”

  If Blake believed it then it was probably true. He remained a good judge of character no matter what other faults he’d developed. “Just write the letter.”

  Blake did. “Now, as to the rent for Alice’s shop.”

&nb
sp; “What of it?”

  “How will you pay for it?”

  Leo didn’t detect any note of sarcasm in his half brother’s tone but still, the question grated. “I will find a way.”

  “You have no money.”

  “I have land in an area known for its coal.”

  “But you have no mine, and no capital to start one or even investigate the viability of one.”

  “I’ll find the capital,” Leo said. “My neighbor, George Finchbrooke, has loaned a small sum, and someone at court will be willing to sink their funds into a partnership if it might make them even richer.”

  “Do you truly think so?” Blake folded the parchment and reached for a stick of sealing wax. “A partnership with the son of the last Baron Warhurst who infamously fleeced half the court in exactly the same way that you plan on making money?”

  It was true. Leo’s father had petitioned several noblemen— Hawkesbury’s blackmailer, Lord Enderby, among them—for money to invest in a mine on his land. He never dug a single hole, however, and instead spent the money on his mistress. That was over thirty years ago, just before he died. Leo had been only a babe at the time but those who’d lost heavily to his father never let him forget it.

  “I paid back their debts as soon as I could,” he said.

  “And bankrupted the Warhurst estate in the process.” Blake pressed the seal on his signet ring into the wax, then returned it to his finger. “Hardly a good business brain you have there, Brother. I’m not sure anyone would be flinging their money into a mine on land which may or many not yield anything, let alone coal.”

  “I was able to sink some test pits with George’s loan but there wasn’t enough for actual mines. The results were positive and that should be enough to satisfy all but the most grieved by Father’s actions.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said Blake. “Your father angered a great many people. People with long memories who are still very influential at court.”

  “Do you have a point or do you simply like reminding me of the stain attached to my name?” Not that Leo needed reminding. He was all too aware of the tarnished blood that ran through his veins.

  Blake leaned heavily on the desk and lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I wish I could help you but—”