Reckless Rules (Brambridge Novel 4) (4 page)

There she had done it. She had relayed the facts without any judgement of the man’s actions. Nor did she reveal what Mr. Cryne had said about his father, or about the note that he had sent Agatha.

“Twenty thousand pounds?” Martha cried, falling back in her seat. “That is a fortune!”

“Martha, you forget that twenty thousand pounds is not a fortune to me.” Miss Rosa Fanthorpe stood and calmly paced around the central arrangement of chairs. “The fact that Mr. Cryne is in debt might be a useful bargaining tool should I take this marriage proposition forward.” She stopped pacing and faced Victoria’s back. “Lady Colchester, what would you do if you were me?”

Victoria swallowed and edged her chair round to face into the room. She needed to be careful in what she said next not to reveal too much, nor be held accountable for any decisions that Miss Fanthorpe might make at a later date.

“I do believe that it is worth entering a marriage knowing exactly how the land lies, and having worked out beforehand if one wishes to place oneself amongst it.”

“You should listen to Lady Colchester, Rosa my dear. She made a very happy marriage to Lord Colchester. She knows what she is talking about.” Martha sat forward again from her prostrate position on the seat. “In my youth—”

“Yes, yes.” Miss Fanthorpe flapped her hands at her companion. She stopped pacing and directed a long hard look at Victoria. “I would agree with you, Martha; however Lady Colchester is trying to tell us more than her words would indicate.”

Victoria fought the urge to shift in her seat. Miss Fanthorpe was
clever.
She pitied the poor Mr. Cryne if Miss Fanthorpe accepted his marriage proposal. She held Miss Fanthorpe’s gaze unblinkingly until the lady dropped her head and sat with a gentle thump on the central seats again.

“Know how the land lies…” Miss Fanthorpe repeated Victoria’s words.

“All I was going to say was that in our youth it was all about whether we loved the man we were going to marry, and whether he loved us back,” Martha said plaintively, obviously put out that Miss Fanthorpe had cut over her ramblings.

Miss Fanthorpe beamed. “That’s what Lady Colchester means. I’ve asked her to find out about Mr. Cryne’s situation. What I haven’t asked her to do is find out whether his heart is engaged or not. Well done, Martha.”

The companion smiled tentatively, seeming uncertain as to what she had said that might have prompted Miss Fanthorpe’s praise.

Miss Fanthorpe looked back up at Victoria. “Lady Colchester, I would like to engage your services again. I would like all information on Mr. Cryne’s activities with regards to women starting from six months before I met him, up until the present day.”

Victoria stroked lightly at her skirts, hiding the tension in her fingers. She had had enough of Mr. Cryne and his sweaty hands. Having to dance one more time with him was enough to put her off investigations altogether. At least Miss Fanthorpe had stipulated the six month window. Mr. Cryne’s note to Agatha had been written at least another six months before that.

“I agree to your request, Miss Fanthorpe.” Victoria furrowed her brow lightly as Miss Fanthorpe sighed happily. “Pardon me if I might ask one question?”

“Do go ahead, Lady Colchester,” Miss Fanthorpe said graciously.

“I can’t help feeling that you are asking if the gentleman’s heart is engaged, but you seem more practical about affairs of the heart yourself?”

Miss Fanthorpe laughed. “Oh dear me, Lady Colchester. Hardly anyone achieves a love match like yours.” Victoria twitched at her fan uncomfortably, but Miss Fanthorpe did not notice. “No, no, marriage for the likes of our class is more a chess game to be played on the board of the ton. One has a considerable advantage over one’s partner in life if they believe that you don’t know what they are up to, when in fact you most certainly are. Take Mr. Cryne’s twenty thousand pound debt. He believes that he will gain control of my fortune if he marries me. He is sadly mistaken, for father has left everything in trust for me and my heirs. His debt will only be paid should his grandmother die, or should
I
agree to bail him out. That debt will bind him to me, like love never could.”

Victoria nodded slowly. Miss Fanthorpe’s case had merit. If she had been able to do so, Victoria would have paid for information on Lord Colchester before she had married the man, and she recommended every woman did so. Victoria had already lived through one marriage based on lies and subterfuge. She would never endure another.

Yet despite Miss Fanthorpe’s confidence that she would be in control, Mr. Cryne was a
slippery
man. No amount of information would be able to predict how he would react to being held hostage by her knowledge of his debts.

“I do believe we have finished here,” Victoria said crisply. “If I might approach the subject of payment?”

“My man of affairs has already made the donation that you requested to the James Robertson Pauper establishment in Hoxton. Where should I send the payment on the completion of the second investigation?”

“Edward Deacon’s Work House in Mile End,” Victoria said. She was also one of the patrons of that particular establishment. It didn’t do to funnel too many funds into just the one place. She didn’t want too many questions being asked about why so many of the ton were suddenly becoming interested in the welfare of the poor. It would be bad for her investigation business.

“Excellent. Now then, have you seen the new production led by David Garrick? I thought Keane was marvelous.” Miss Fanthorpe pulled Martha from her seat and they followed Victoria out of the powder room.

Victoria let herself be drawn into the small talk. It was a good change of tempo and an excellent camouflage to what had been a very successful meeting. They had in fact been very fortunate that no other ladies had entered the powder room.

As they entered the hallway to a babble of female voices, the reason for their privacy was clear.

“Do tell us about some of your experiences in the forge, Mr. Standish?”

“Oh no, I would rather hear about his manor house. You have very
secluded
views of the sea I hear?”

“Oh my,” Miss Fanthorpe muttered. “Would you look at that? Now that is a man who it would be interesting to know about.”

Victoria followed Miss Fanthorpe’s rigid gaze and blinked slowly in frustration. Bill stood opposite the entrance of the powder room, leaning his massive shoulders against the wall. He had taken his coat off, revealing his immaculate shirt and waistcoat straining against his hard muscles. Ladies and their companions crowded around him, batting their eyelashes, uncaring as to who should see their behavior.

“Dreadful,” she murmured quietly, but loud enough that those on the edge of the group would hear. Many of the younger girls gave her quick worried glances, and without a murmur, slipped away, dragging their companions with them. One in particular gave her a horrified look.

“Miss Armistead,” Victoria said flatly. She almost laughed as the girl picked up her skirts and trotted away without waiting for her companion. That just left the widows, many of them seasoned women with fortunes to match.

“Just because you, Lady Colchester, are a paragon of virtue,” one of them said snidely, “doesn’t mean to say we can’t have some fun.”

“Yes. Mr. Standish could make me very happy,” another preened, shooting Bill a low look from beneath her lashes.

Bill’s Adam's apple moved as he swallowed.

Victoria smiled.

“If you would excuse me ladies, Lady Colchester has requested a private conversation with me,” Bill said. Victoria started and brought her gaze up to his devilishly handsome face. He grinned at her unrepentantly. “She said it was urgent.”

The widows tittered and remained where they were, keen to see the perfect Lady Colchester put a step wrong.
How could Bill have put me in this position?
He knew how she felt about his continued advances. Or at least he should. She had been quite firm in the face of his… onslaught. Victoria guiltily pushed down the memories of carefree cart rides in Brambridge, lazy picnics on the beach, an idyllic summer curiously free from cares.
That kiss.

“Ah yes,” Miss Fanthorpe exclaimed. “I asked Lady Colchester to introduce us.”

Victoria sighed with relief at the unexpected rescue. But Miss Fanthorpe had not finished. “My father is very interested in your story, Mr. Er...”

“Mr. William Standish,” Bill said, sweeping his eyes over Miss Fanthorpe with obvious admiration. “And your father is?”

“Magnus Fanthorpe.”

“Of course, the iron manufacturer. Pleased to meet you, Miss Fanthorpe. Do let us find a quieter room where we can all speak more intimately.”

Victoria rolled her eyes and Miss Fanthorpe blushed happily. The widows, giving up the attack for the time being, left in ones and twos to go back to the dancing in the main room. It was not long before only Victoria, Miss Fanthorpe, Martha and Bill were left.

“Perhaps we could discuss my father another time,” Miss Fanthorpe said in an alluring voice.

Victoria wanted to shout about Mr. Cryne, but watched helplessly as Bill pulled Miss Fanthorpe’s arm towards him and gallantly kissed the fingers of her glove.      

“There is nothing I should like more,” he murmured seductively, muscles rippling as he let Miss Fanthorpe’s arm go.

“Cooeee,” Martha whispered.

“Cooee indeed,” Victoria huffed inwardly. She would have been more impressed if she hadn’t seen Bill act the same way a thousand times since he had joined the ton. Many times with other ecstatic ladies. And at least a hundred times unsuccessfully with her.

Each time she had rebuffed him. She had known that the advances of an illegitimate former smith would have brought unwarranted attention to her
activities
. And she had been right. Bill
did
stand out like a zebra at a horse race. His entrance to the ton had been explosive. Most were scandalized by his appearance at the gatherings. But still, many ladies loved him, his massive form, and charm, and patent unsuitability for marriage held a dangerous allure. And the men, equally attracted to his athletic form, wanting to wrestle with him or pit their strength against his.

Miss Fanthorpe giggled— the most girlish behavior Victoria had seen from her in the last hour— and drew Martha away, leaving Victoria and Bill alone.

“I suppose you do have something to discuss with me?” Victoria said rather ungraciously.

“Yes, but not here.” Bill took Victoria’s arm and drew her with surprising gentleness into a small blue room where a fire blazed merrily.

“You should watch out for Miss Fanthorpe,” Victoria said before she could stop herself.

Bill let go of her arm and shrugged off his coat before walking towards one of the sofas. It was as if he hadn’t heard what she had said.

“She has an interest in Mr. Cryne and will only use you,” she said wildly, skirting the edge of the room.

“Why, Victoria, it sounds as if you really do care.” Bill turned and smiled wolfishly at her. “Why don’t you come a little closer and tell me how you feel about that?”

Damn the man. He was a liability.
But so very, very persuasive.

“I have told you before, Mr. Standish, that as Lady Colchester, I have no interest in a relationship with a… a man such as yourself.”

Bill’s smile disappeared suddenly. “A bastard such as myself, you mean.”

Victoria swallowed. Didn’t he realize how much it cost her to keep up appearances? That a liaison with him would destroy everything that she had worked so hard to build? That she was afraid that if she became involved with him she would
lose herself
again forever? She pushed her chin up.

“Yes,” she said firmly, wincing as a shadow crossed Bill’s eyes.

“A bastard, a smith, whatever I am, I could give you much pleasure, Lady Victoria Colchester. Do you not remember our kiss?” Bill stared at her. “I can see the attraction in your eyes. You still want me.”

“The other ladies of the ton attest to your brilliance in that arena.”

Bill reddened. “But you are the one I keep coming after, Victoria.”

Victoria sighed. “What did you really want, Bill?”

Bill flung himself down on the sofa which creaked and bowed at the middle. “Where’s your brother? I need to ask him for some advice.”

Victoria should have known the reason Bill had wanted a private chat hadn’t been because he wanted to chase her yet again. She pursed her lips. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did—a little.

CHAPTER 4

Bill waited as Victoria stared at him.

“I have no idea where Henry is.” Victoria smoothed a small, shaking hand over her immaculate silk skirts.

He cocked his head on one side and raised an eyebrow. With an outraged squawk, Victoria flew to the door and fumbled with its handle. At last she managed to pull the door towards her and, with one last huff, she was gone.

Bill smiled slowly. At least she had shown some emotion for once. For the first time since their weeks together in Brambridge.

He hadn’t really needed to know where Henry was. He could have easily asked Lord Granwich and he would have found out where the man was hiding with his wife. But it had been worth it just to see Victoria’s expression when she became aware that he wasn’t really chasing
her
again.

He had been until she finally confirmed what he had known all along. That she rejected him time and again because he was a bastard.

The fire continued to blaze merrily in the blue room long after Victoria left. Bill stared into the dancing flames, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Every recent encounter with Victoria left him feeling exactly the same way, ashamed, and slightly— no—greatly inadequate.

Yet she was like a drug to him. He couldn’t stop himself coming back for more, like a martyr with a hair shirt. Was it because she was someone he could— no— should, never have, or because she continually rejected him because of who he was?

Bill pushed himself off the sofa. It groaned as the springs unwound. Long minutes had passed as he had sulked because he couldn’t have what he wanted. He should have been used to it by now. He narrowed his eyes. She may not want him but by hook or by crook he was going to have Lady Colchester. She epitomized everything that he was not, wellborn, the soul of propriety, wealthy and powerful.