Lady Cora was having none of that nonsense. Leave a man at deaths door at his own doorstep, to be tended by indifferent servants? Not while she had a breath in her body, which was more than Lord Morgan seemed to have a moment ago.
She directed a footman to have her coach brought to the front door, then three more footmennot her son in his tight-fitting, elegant evening clothesto carry his lordship to it, and yet another footman to run and fetch a doctor to Royce House. Lord Morgan would be far better off there.
Are you certain, Mother? Daniel asked as he watched the three men carry the moaning man through the gawking crowds, while he could have done it himself with far less commotion in half the time. Instead he had to wait while his sister and Corie made their excuses to their dance partners and their farewells to the hostesses. Which he could also have done in half the time. At least Lord Morgan was breathing easier, and his color had returned some. The crisis seemed passed. Perhaps he simply suffered a weak spell, and hell recover as easily at his own home, with familiar surroundings. I know he has some kind of restorative some physician prescribed for him.
Lady Cora gathered her fan and her shawl and her beaded reticule. We are taking him home and that is final.
It will give rise to more speculation, you know.
She started toward the exit, the girls following behind. Bosh. He is too ill to ruin my reputation, even if I were willing to permit it. The girls will not be left unchaperoned by me or Susannas former governess.
Having him stay will be a great deal of work.
And my brother employs a great many servants. Furthermore, Eugenia Reynolds has nothing to do. My new secretary, which I never truly required, will be happy to sit by his bedside and read to the old dear or play piquet with him. Theyve become good friends during our jaunts around the city.
Matchmaking again, Mother?
She hid her blushes by hurrying after the footmen to direct the placement of the invalid. Lord Morgan needs someone to look after him, and Eugenia needs to be useful. Well see. And youll have to ride up on top with the coachman and the groom. Make sure they do not race through the streets. Lord Morgan does not need to be jostled.
So they brought him home, all of them relieved he was breathing better, some of them also relieved to be leaving Almacks.
The next morning, the house was still at sixes and sevens. Physicians and apothecaries were running up and down the stairs; footmen were being sent hither and thither with notes to Lord Morgans son in the country, canceling his appointments and those of the ladies. Meanwhile, dozensno, scores of gentlemen clutching bouquets gathered in the hall, while the women of the house were neither coming down to breakfast nor receiving visitors.
And the current master? Mr. Stamfield went out early to fetch, of all things, a dog! A dog, in Royce House. How Dobbsons standing would fall in the local pub.
His wig was so askew he tossed it aside and powdered his own gray hair. Mr. Stamfield left instructions to placate the gentlemen with food until he got back, so now Cook was having apoplexy of her own in the kitchen. Suddenly she had to satisfy an army of hungry males instead of feeding ladies with dainty appetites. On top of that, she was expected to provide invalid food.
With another gentleman to look after, Deauville also threatened to give notice, except the master was not in to receive it. He was outout of his mind, half the household believed.
Daniel couldnt leave the old relic at that near-derelict house. Or his dog, either. So he went himself to fetch the spotted hound.
The butler was snoring, a maid was sloshing dirty water around the front hall, and the dog was whining. No one had missed Lord Morgan except the old bitch, who likely hadnt been fed or walked. Daniel threatened to pound the butler into dog food if the house was not clean, with all its belongings accounted for, when his lordship returned. Or else hed have the majordomo replaced.
Then he asked the butler for the dogs name.
Go to Hell did not seem appropriate for such a sweet old thing, so Daniel called her Helen. She followed him out, since he had a thick sandwich of ham and cheese to share.
After letting the dog relieve herself, Daniel picked her uphe wore one of his old, loose coats for just such a needand placed her carefully beside him on the curricles driving bench.
Helen whimpered a little when they left the familiar neighborhood, so Daniel fed her more of his sandwich. Then he had to stop at a coffee shop and have his tiger run in to fetch him another breakfast.
Cant face the suitors on an empty stomach, can I?
Hed run out of excuses not to face the cork-brained crowd. He thought of throwing all of them out, saying that the ladies had decided not to marry. Hed be lying, but he could blame the instant welts on the dogs fleas.
Corie never got the chance to talk with the rest of the gentlemen on her list last night, so she couldnt be smitten with any of them. Which did not mean the ambitious female wouldnt grasp at the first offer she received. She might as well pick names out of a hat, for all she seemed to care about any of the men. He wondered why he cared about her finding a happy marriage.
He also wondered if he was honor-bound to tell the goddesss chosen sacrifice about her past.
He took himself into his uncles library, with its rows of special bottles on the sideboard. He did not pour any because his poor head was muddled enough thinking about Corie and her marriage, Corie and her happiness, Corie and her enchanting green eyes.
Dobbson gave him a minute to settle into the chair behind his uncles desk, where Daniel thought he might feel wiser, or look more confident and in command than he felt. Then the butler started bringing in the supplicantsthe suitors, that wasin order of rank.
The Russian prince fought too many duels. The earl had buried too many wives. The dukes heir had no hair on his head but a mustache full of crumbs. None of them was worthy of any of the females.
Daniel gave up. He was not his stately, Solomon-like uncle, who should be here where he belonged as head of the family. Daniel told Dobbson to send in all the rest of the men at once, and serve Lord Royces finest.
There werent enough seats, but they werent staying long, not if Daniel had his way. He looked around while Dobbson and a footman served various wines and liquors. Some of those present surprised him. He didnt think such confirmed bachelors were in the marriage market. Some of the absentees surprised him, too. A few of Cories suitors must have gotten wind of last nights news, her supposedly broken heart. He doubted theyd heard more, or no one would be here.
Clarence was not among the petitioners, either, Daniel was relieved to see. Dobbson informed him that Master Haversmith and Miss Stamfield had taken the dog to the kitchens, for breakfast.
Better Helen having another meal than Haversmith asking for Susannas hand, Daniel decided. He had strict instructions to turn away any offers for his sister until the end of the Season.
So he dismissed most of the youngest suitors. Youhe pointed at one of themcome back in two months.
Youthe youngestcome back in two years.
To one with a vacant, opiate-induced smile, he said, Do not come back at all.
He told the older gentlemen what his mother had instructed him to say: that she was honored by the attention, but she was not considering a courtship at this time. She was too busy preparing for the ball next month, chaperoning her charges, and caring for Lord Morgan. Daniel tempered the mature suitors disappointment by adding, He is her secretarys particular friend, you see.
They left happy after draining their glasses in a toast to Lady Cora.
Few men were left, far fewer than Daniel expected from the names in the betting books. All were sober and well dressed, some in riding attire with high-topped boots, some with high shirt collars. Some were at ease; some appeared anxious; some looked as if theyd come simply because it was all the fashion this week.
The banker kept consulting his watch. Like Daniel, he must have thought getting a female hitched was a matter of moments. Daniel couldnt reject a chap for being impatient. Not a rich one, anyway. If Sir Jamison was late for a tryst with his mistress, that was another matter.
He cleared his throat to get their attention. As you must know, Miss Abbott is not receiving callers this morning. Nor do I speak for her, except to ensure no unsuitable gentlemen are permitted to call on her. Therefore, if you are persona non grata in polite circles, Id be grateful if you left before I have to rearrange your facial features. The rest of you are free to pursue your suit, as you will. Then he added, Within the bounds of propriety, of course.
Which caused hoots of laughter, that Daniel Stamfield was preaching correct behavior.
He laughed along with them. I know, I know; theres nothing like a reformed rake for hypocrisy, but were talking about a lady. Ill have to consult with Miss Abbotts father, of course, before making any formal announcements, but it is not I you have to convince of your worth; it is Miss Abbott herself.
He tipped his glass, his first of the day, and muttered, And heaven help you.
They filed out, patting one another on the back, laying more wagers, bragging of their prospects.
He poured himself another glass.
Before he could drink it, someone coughed. Daniel looked over toward the cushioned window ledge, where a gentleman was getting to his feet.
Sorry. I didnt notice you in the crowd. Lord Trowbridge, is it? Daniel vaguely recalled the distinguished-looking gentleman had something to do with the government, from when he helped Harry. Trowbridge was older than most of Cories admirers, although not as old as the banker. He hadnt been at Almacks, but Daniel never got to visit the cardroom. Nor had Trowbridge called at Royce House before, as far as Daniel knew, so he must have come upon Miss Abbott at one of the functions Daniel had escaped. The unfortunate chap undoubtedly fell silver-templed head over well-shined boots the moment Trowbridge saw her beauty and heard her lilting voice.
The problem, though, other than his resenting the man for being so perfect, was Lord Trowbridge wore black ribbons trailing from his sleeve.
It is a little soon to come courting Miss Abbott, isnt it? That is fairly brazen while you still wear mourning for your first wife.
Trowbridge came closer to Daniels desk. He touched the ribbon at his sleeve. Yes, it would be disrespectful, but you mistake my reason for calling today.
Lud, you are not interested in my sister, are you?
Trowbridge frowned. Are you always so quick to jump to conclusions? I worry about my mission, then.
Your mission?
For answer, the man reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a ten-pound note, issued by the Bank of England. He put the largish paper on the desk in front of Daniel.
I dont recall any debts. I dont even recall seeing you at the clubs.
I seldom have time. And, as you said, I am in mourning. And you are making hasty judgments again.
Daniel looked at the bank certificate. Then . . . ?
Pick it up.
Daniel watched Trowbridges face, watching him. Not trying to bribe me or anything, are you?
Trowbridge shook his head and clucked his tongue, so Daniel knew hed guessed wrong again.
Daniel picked up the banknote with two fingers, and dropped it quickly. He looked at his fingers, then at Trowbridge, and grinned. Who are you exactly and how did you know to come to me?
The older man smiled back. So they were right. You can tell a counterfeit bill by its feel.
Daniel stretched his fingers, still sensing that bit of heat at their tips. It seems I can, which is a surprise to me, too. I think you better sit down and tell me how you got here. More important, who else you are going to tell. The whole family could be in jeopardy if word got out that the Royce men dabbled in what appeared to be magic.
Trowbridge explained that he was an undersecretary at the royal exchequer, answerable to the minister of finance. He worked with various other branches of the government, ones seldom in the public eye.
That answered one question for Daniel. You know Harry, do you?
I have had that pleasure, yes. Very closemouthed, your, ah . . . Trowbridge was not sure what to call Lord Royces baseborn son.
My cousin. My friend.
You are fortunate. As we all are, to have had him working for England in the late war. No one quite understood his function, or his talent, of course.
Which was meant to reassure Daniel that whatever Trowbridge was, he wasnt a talebearer. Of course.
Or your other cousins talent, Lord Rexford.
Which in turn meant Trowbridge was well-informed. Rex was a brave soldier, an officer, dont you know.
