Regency Rumours: A Scandalous Mistress / Dishonour and Desire. Juliet Landon

Lord Elyot muttered.

      ‘No, I don’t. Father would remind you that you don’t form that kind of alliance without first consulting him so that he can tell you why it won’t work. Is that why you’ve given him the slip?’ He grinned, mischievously.

      Approaching the heavy wrought-iron gates of Sheen Court, Nick waited until they were on the long driveway before answering. ‘It was not the way it appears. I’ve had to move rather faster than usual, that’s all. Well…no, that’s not quite all. This one is different, Sete.’

      Seton’s frown returned as he stole a sideways glance to judge his brother’s seriousness and saw, by the total absence of the usual triumphant grin, that it was indeed quite a different matter, this time. He drew gently upon his reins. ‘Well slow down and tell me, then. Are you saying you’ve offered for her? Why couldn’t you come to the same informal arrangement you usually do?’

      ‘Take her as my mistress, you mean? That suggestion would not have gone down very well, but the problem is that word has already got out that Lady Chester and I have an understanding. Don’t ask me how it happened, because I’m not at liberty to explain, but it’s there, and rather than have to deny it at every end and turn, which would take some doing, it suits my purpose to go along with it. But it looks as if Father and Mother may hear our names linked before I can inform them of my intentions.’

      ‘Which they will not like one bit. Send them a letter, Nick.’

      ‘Yes, I shall send Todd up to St James’s Square this afternoon with some other information. That’s the best I can do. Don’t look like that, lad. They’ve been nagging me for years to find a wife, so I may well get round to it, eventually.’

      Seton picked up on the tone. ‘That sounds as if you’re not too sure of her, in spite of the understanding. Is she not willing, after all?’

      ‘The story’s a bit complicated, Sete. I’ll tell you one day, but I wanted you to know that she’s accepted me partly because it will help to get Miss Chester launched into the auction ring, which she’s having trouble with down here.’

      ‘Only partly? What’s the other part?’ When his brother’s reply was slow to emerge, Seton made it for him. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘so you’ve got something on her. She’s not willing, but she has to accept you to keep you quiet. Eh? Well, that’s not your usual style. And how long is this…engagement…going to last, may I ask, until you snare another bird, or until she.?’

      ‘No, there will be no other, Sete. It’s this one, or nothing.’

      ‘Oh, really. And does she believe that?’

      ‘It’s the last thing she wants to hear at this point. She would not believe a word of it, I’m afraid.’

      The hooves clattered across the stableyard cobbles where grooms came running to hold the bridles and to wait for the men to dismount. With a last look at the swishing tails, the brothers turned towards the house.

      ‘Sounds to me,’ said Seton, unhelpfully frank, ‘as if you’re nicked in the pipkin, old chap. Taking on a prime Ace of Spades and a niece can spell nothing but a fistful o’ trouble, ‘specially if it’s not much to her liking. Still, you usually know what you’re doing. You can rely on my discretion, you know that.’

      ‘Yes, I do know, Sete. Thanks. The story so far, in case our sister wants to know, is that Lady Chester’s affairs are being examined to see what’s what. Meanwhile we shall be seen out and about together before any announcement is made. That should give the parents time to see that I’m serious.’

      ‘But Father’s bound to think she’s Apartments to Let, Nick.’

      ‘Maybe at first, until he can see for himself that it’s not so. She’s as able to flash the screens as any widow in London, and more than most. You’ve seen for yourself what would drive a man to make a bid for her, haven’t you?’

      The long slow breath expelled from between Seton’s lips was followed by a deeply envious growl. ‘I wish that pert little miss had half her aunt’s style. She’s a nice enough little thing, and I don’t mind helping you out while I have nothing much else to do, but there are times when I’d like to put her across my knee.’

      ‘Then you’re being too kind to her,’ said his brother, tersely, passing his hat, gloves and riding whip to a waiting footman.

      ‘You told me to be kind, dammit.’

      ‘Use your loaf, Sete. If the chit needs a firm hand, then use one. She’ll not break in half.’

      ‘You don’t suppose she’ll go crying to Aunt Amelie, then?’

      Lord Elyot allowed himself a huff of amusement at last, though it was for the name, not the potential crisis. ‘No!’ he said. ‘She might cry into her pillow, but she’d not admit to losing the upper hand. I expect she’s had her father wrapped round her little finger since her mama died, so now’s the time to break the habit before she kicks the door down.’

      Seton’s whip slapped hard against the side of his top-boot before he handed it over. ‘Oh, good lord, Nick, why should I care what bad habits she gets? She’s not a filly of my choosing.’

      ‘Then have yourself a bit of fun,’ said Lord Elyot, callously. ‘It’s only for the short term, after all. You’ve broken in fillies before.’

      ‘Not two-legged ones.’ The frown returned. ‘You’re not suggesting I seduce her, are you?’

      ‘Of course I’m not, halfwit. I’m not suggesting anything as irrevocable as that. But if you want her to grow up, you must school her. You’ve had it too easy, Sete. See what you can make of her.’

      ‘Hmph!’ Seton grunted.

      

      It soon became evident, that afternoon, that the promised ride was to lead them up the stony road to Hill Common, the road Amelie had last travelled on a donkey in driving rain and darkness. By daylight, it gave them astonishing views across the river, across Richmond town and the royal parkland beyond. But it was the workhouse itself that surprised her most, having never seen it except in her imagination where she expected it to resemble all the others she knew of, stark, uninviting, with high walls and barred windows, silent, forbidding, a desolate last resort.

      In reality, the only common factor with those she had seen was its size: in every other respect the Richmond workhouse was revolutionary in its attitude to care and clean accommodation, in variety of useful occupation and teaching, in food and self-sufficiency, in everything but the luxury of family, which many of them had never had, anyway. Amelie and Caterina learnt that it had its own infirmary and maternity ward, which is where Lord Elyot guessed they would stay longest.

      While the men visited the leather workshop, the weavers, the gardens and the blacksmith, the two women were escorted by the friendly white-aproned matron into a bright clean dormitory that smelled of babies and soap and woodsmoke from the fire. Between curtains, beds and cots were arranged along each wall and round the central pillars and, although privacy was not a priority, mother and childcare was of a kind that Amelie had thought quite impossible in a place which, by tradition, had such a low regard for human comforts.

      They visited every mother and her infant, of whom at least six could have been the one she had attempted to rescue on that rainy night a week ago. And by the time Amelie had held the last soft helpless bundle against her shoulder, nuzzled its downy head and breathed in the sweet milky aroma, the tears she had been fighting were running freely down her face and dripping off her chin, and the mothers to whom she had come to offer pity were, without exception, pitying her.

      The last sleepy little mite was prised gently out of her arms and put to her mother’s breast. ‘Her name?’ Amelie asked, still weeping.

      ‘She ain’t named yet, m’lady. What’s yours?’

      ‘Amelie.’

      ‘Then that’s what I’ll call her. Emily.