Too Dangerous For a Lady (36 page)

I
've been saying to friends that I've been writing a Regency antiterrorism undercover cop, and that's pretty close to the truth, isn't it? It's a passionate love story as well, of course.

Antiterrorism is part of the Regency, because the postwar period was one of economic depression, which led to great unrest and fear, some of it fed by the French Revolution only a generation earlier. Many people were connected to victims. For example, one of Jane Austen's relatives was the widow of a French aristocrat who died on the guillotine. It's not surprising that the government was willing to take drastic measures to oppose the threat.

Much of the unrest and demand for reform was justified, but it was also exploited by those intent on a violent overturning of law and order. Waite and the Crimson Band are my own invention, but I took my inspiration from Arthur Thistlewood, a true character. In 1820 he and his co-conspirators were hanged for the Cato Street conspiracy to murder the prime minister and the cabinet as trigger for a violent insurrection. The event in Ardwick was my own invention, but it was modeled on the earlier one mentioned in the book, the Blanketeers' March. Unfortunately, that didn't fit with my Rogues timeline.

The Company of Rogues books have a clear timeline, and it's not a very long one. Though there are now fifteen books, the first one,
An Arranged Marriage
, opens in April 1814, and this one in September 1817. The men are in their mid-twenties, a prime time for marrying and “starting a nursery” as they said, especially those with titles and fortunes to pass on.

On to explosions. I had fun researching this! Gas-lighting was rapidly spreading throughout London's streets, and was being introduced for indoor lighting as well. As mentioned in the book, the smell of coal gas was a problem. You might remember that in
The Rogue's Return
, Simon and Jancy made a rapid retreat from their town house because gas had been installed. Shops using gas-lighting kept their doors open.

The gas was produced by private companies that stored it in huge gasometers and pumped it through the pipes. It's true that making coal gas explode isn't simple. It will flame, but for explosion there needs to be the right blend of gas and air in a confined space. Just like the chemists in the book, I couldn't come up with a way to make that happen, so I devised the plan to attack a gasometer with a missile. Very likely it wouldn't have worked, even if Isaac had really tried, because of needing that mix of gas and air. Which Isaac knew.

I've put up pictures connected to the book on Pinterest, including a map of the area around Great Peter Street, showing the Chartered Gasworks. You can find the photographs by going to Pinterest.com and searching for my boards. There's one for
Too Dangerous for a Lady
.

As for the exploding letters, I found a mention in a period record that the insurrectionists were experimenting with them. I couldn't resist. I'm not a chemist, but I found a few chemicals known at the time that might do the job. I deliberately didn't give any details just in case they would work!

Now, medicine. Edgar suffers from kala-azar, which is a real disease and still exists in the tropics. It's now called visceral leishmaniasis. It was thought to be caused by bad air, but in fact it's caused by protozoan parasites and spread by insects, like malaria. Antimony was the standard treatment and could work, but treatment improved when it was discovered that vanadium enhanced its effectiveness. I discovered that some fungi draw up vanadium and store it and ran with that. This isn't a scientific novel, after all, and I only needed to feel some plausibility for my own satisfaction. As the vanadium connection wasn't discovered until recently, I fear poor Dr. Grammaticus is going to have the threatened stroke before he can reveal his secret.

And the Curious Creatures? Did you recognize the name? I tossed them into a book years ago as yet another odd thing Nicholas Delaney was involved in. When I needed a philosophical society for this book, I knew there'd been something and it would be a perfect fit. Thank heavens for my readers, because some of them remembered the details for me.

Dear Reader,

If this is your first Company of Rogues book, I hope you've enjoyed it without feeling you were missing much. I always try to write my books that way. It is, however, the fifteenth, so if you're intrigued by Nicholas Delaney, Lord Arden, and the rest, a feast awaits. You can find out more about them on my Web site at jobev.com/rogues.html. There's even a video to enjoy.

All my novels and novellas are now available as e-books, and most are still in print. There's a full book list on my Web site, and much more, including a sign-up box for my occasional e-newsletter. You can also keep in touch by clicking the Like button on my author page on Facebook: facebook.com/jo.beverley.

Yes, the next book,
The Viscount Needs a Wife
, will be about Beau Braydon's unexpected and unwelcome inheritance and the wife he chooses in a very coolheaded way to lighten the load. The problems he finds at his new estate are enough to ruffle even his smooth feathers, and then his wife is revealed to be not quite the woman he thinks she is.

Too Dangerous for a Lady
is my thirty-ninth book, which means that
The Viscount Needs a Wife
, out in 2016, will be my fortieth! Perhaps I'll buy myself a ruby! Read on for an early taste.

All best wishes,

Jo Beverley

Read on for a sneak peek at Beau Braydon's story in

The Viscount Needs a Wife

Available from Signet Select in April 2016

November 7, 1817

“K
athyrn, your dog is looking at me again.”

Kitty Cateril looked up from her needlework to see that indeed her King Charles spaniel was sitting in front of her mother-in-law, eyes fixed on her face. She bit the insides of her cheeks as she patted her leg. “Sillikin. Come.”

The dog cocked her head, then trotted over as if expecting a reward for a job well done. Kitty didn't know why she had the habit of staring at some people, but her mother-in-law couldn't stand it. Perhaps Lady Cateril knew that Sillikin stared only at people she thought suspect.

What secret sins could lurk in the soul of straight-backed, gray-haired Lady Cateril? She was the sort of woman who had always been described as “beyond reproach.” Now, dressed permanently in mourning black, she was canonized by the heroism and death of her younger son—Kitty's husband, Marcus.

Had Sillikin caught her wishing that the heroism and death had come together? That he hadn't lived, wounded and broken, for eight more years and married someone like Kitty? That devotion to Marcus's memory hadn't required her to offer Kitty a home? Kitty and her irritating dog.

“I will say again, Kathryn, that you should rename that creature.”

And I will say again,
Kitty supplied silently. “She's too used to the name by now.”

“She's a dumb creature. She cannot care.”

“Then why do dogs respond to their names as people do, Mama?”

Names. So powerful and sometimes poorly considered. She'd named a wriggling ball of fluff Sillikin, but she herself had been a mere eighteen. When she'd married at seventeen, she'd called Marcus's mother “Mama” in the hope of pleasing the disapproving woman.

If she began to call her mother-in-law “Lady Cateril,” would Lady Cateril begin to use “Kitty”?

Unlikely. “Kitty,” she had remarked at first meeting, was a romping sort of name. There'd been a clear implication that Kitty was a romping sort of person. Better that than being starchy as a frosted petticoat on a winter washing line!

The weather today wouldn't freeze cotton as stiff as board, for it was unseasonably mild. Abundant roses still bloomed, and some spring primroses were already in bloom. Kitty would take Sillikin for a long walk if it weren't raining. She might soon retreat to her bedroom, but she'd hear complaints later. In Lady Cateril's domain, bedrooms were not sitting rooms. They weren't dining rooms, either. The only time anyone was served food in their bedroom was in cases of illness.

Despite the name, Kitty had rubbed along well enough with her mother-in-law when she'd first come to live here. She'd been Marcus's widow and they'd been united in grief. As the six-month point drew closer, however, she'd prepared to put off her widow's weeds. When Lady Cateril realized Kitty had ordered new gowns in gray and violet, she'd reacted as if she'd spit on Marcus's grave. When reproaches and then tears hadn't changed anything, Lady Cateril had taken to her bed and sent for the doctor. Kitty had been
badly shaken, but the rest of the family hadn't seemed alarmed, so she'd stuck to her guns.

The first gown had arrived and she'd worn it, quaking. The next day Lady Cateril had emerged. Nothing more had been said, but a frost had settled. Kitty had realized then that in Lady Cateril's mind her only worthwhile purpose was as Marcus's inconsolable widow. She was as much a monument as the marble plaque in the village church.

C
APTAIN
M
ARCUS
E
DWARD
C
ATERIL

OF THE 29TH

H
ERO OF
R
OLICA

1784–1816

The words were inscribed on a large alabaster bas-relief that included a shrouded, mourning woman drooping over a plinth. The figure was carved out of black marble and Kitty had assumed that it was a symbolic representation of grief. At that point she'd realized it was supposed to be her. Fixed in drooping black for all eternity.

From then on, she'd sought a way to escape, but here she was, nearly a year later, with no realistic option. She had hardly any money and no possibility of desirable employment. She picked up Sillikin, her dependable source of comfort. . . .

The door burst open and Lord Cateril entered, eyes wild. “The most dreadful news!”

Lady Cateril put a hand to her chest. “John? The children?”

“The princess! Princess Charlotte is dead!”

There was a moment of stillness as they tried to accept the impossible. Princess Charlotte, heir to the throne, who they'd heard had been confined for the birth of her first child, was
dead
?

“No!” For once, Kitty and her mother-in-law were in harmony.

“The child?” Lady Cateril asked desperately.

“A son. Also dead.” Lord Cateril sank into a chair by his wife's side and took her hand. “All hope is gone.”

It was overly portentous, but Kitty knew what he meant. The king and queen had presented the nation with seventeen children, but now with the king insane and expected to die at any time, there'd been only one legitimate grandchild, the Regent's daughter, Charlotte.

With her dead, the succession was in peril. Unless one of her aged uncles produced a legitimate child, the British Crown could pass to a foreigner. That was alarming, but Kitty's heart ached for the people involved. “Poor woman. And her poor family. Royal, but not beyond the hand of fate.”

Lord Cateril sighed. “Amen. The shops and theaters have closed in respect. The court is to go into mourning, but I'm told everyone of all degrees is putting on black, or at least dark bands.”

“We must do the same,” Lady Cateril said. “The family must wear full black.” In spite of her genuine shock and sorrow she shot Kitty a triumphant look.

Kitty almost protested, but Lord Cateril agreed. “You're right, my dear. And black bands and stockings for the servants. Now, please gather the household together in the hall. I must read out the news.”

Kitty helped to pass the word and soon the family and servants stood together in the hall as Lord Cateril read out the letter he'd received. All were affected and many wept.

Afterward she went to her room to take out one of her black bombazine gowns, wishing she'd given them away as she'd thought to do. As a red-eyed housemaid fastened the back, Kitty resolved two things.

Court mourning would last only until the funeral. She'd do no more than that. And she would find a way to live again—to escape the everlasting shadows of Cateril Manor.

*   *   *

The princess's coffin, along with that of her stillborn child, was lowered into the royal vault at Windsor on November 15, but they didn't hear the details until two days later. Lord Cateril read the account of the interment to the assembled household and they all prayed again for the princess and the bereaved family. He then declared that the servants could put off mourning.

Kitty went upstairs and came down again in a pale violet gown. When she encountered Lady Cateril, she received a flat look, which seemed even worse than anger. Strenuous thinking over the past weeks had brought her no closer to escape.

She'd discussed the situation with her sister-in-law Sarah. One barrier to employment was that she had no references. She asked Sarah if she might at least give one about her character.

“For employment?” Sarah had asked, eyes wide. “Mama would never permit that.”

“She can't stop me.”

“But she can make my life miserable if I assist you.”

Sarah was plump, practical, and kind, but not courageous. She never tried to cross Lady Cateril over anything.

Kitty tried another approach. “Don't you think we should try to ease her out of her mourning? She has two fine children still, and six grandchildren—yours and Anne's.”

Anne was Lady Cateril's youngest child, who'd married a man who lived three counties away, probably by design. Anne had as much spine as her mother.

“She won't,” said practical Sarah. “In some ways she likes the effect of it, but it reflects true grief. She always loved Marcus best.”

“Doesn't John mind?”

Sarah shrugged. “He's his father's favorite, and he is the heir. Surely you're comfortable here overall, Kathryn. Why would you want to become someone's servant?”

On the surface it would be idiotic. She was treated as one of the family with everything provided for her. She'd never had to touch the small sum left her by Marcus, for any bills were paid by Lord Cateril without complaint.

Kitty spoke the truth. “I want to wear rainbow colors and be joyful.”

Sarah frowned. “I don't think governesses or companions are encouraged to dress gaudily, or romp around laughing.”

Kitty sighed. “You're right, of course.”

She left it like that, but such reasons didn't change her mind. She was only twenty-seven years old. She couldn't live like this for the rest of her life.

Two days after she'd put off mourning, Kitty found the parlor empty. John and Sarah had driven out to visit friends who were celebrating the recent healthy birth of a child. Lady Cateril was going over the account books with the housekeeper, and Lord Cateril was in his office.

Thanking the heavens, she settled by the fire, Sillikin at her feet, to seek escape of another sort—in the delightful adventures of the heroine in
Forbidden Affections
.

Dulcinea was trapped in the rat-infested castle in trembling expectation of a visit from the evil count when Lady Cateril entered the room.

“Silent reading, Kathryn? You know I don't approve.”

Damn.
She couldn't resist asking, “Would you like me to read to you, Mama? You might enjoy
Forbidden Affections
.”

She only heard her own words as she spoke and had to fight the giggles. Fulminating was exactly the word for the look she received. She braced for the scold to follow, but the door opened. Poll, the housemaid, had a letter in her hand. “His lordship's sent this for Mrs. Marcus, milady.”

She looked as if she might give it to Lady Cateril, so Kitty held out her hand. “Thank you, Poll.” She received
letters from only one person, so she said, “It will be from my friend Ruth Westway.”

“Ah.” Lady Cateril's expression lightened a little. Ruth was a clergyman's wife and thus approved of. She sat. “You may read
that
to me, Kathryn.”

It was spiteful revenge for that mischievous offer to read from the novel, but not worth fighting over. Kitty and Ruth were long past their school days, when they'd shared all the anxieties, dreams, and longings of their silly hearts. The letter would contain news about Ruth's home and family, and of her work in the parish around the Shropshire village of Beecham Dabitott.

Kitty broke the seal and unfolded the letter, but was startled to see that Ruth had written a great deal. To save the cost for the recipient, she'd kept to one sheet of paper, turning it sideways and continuing the letter crossways. There were even a few lines on the diagonal.

A sense of dramatic doings rose from the jumble, especially as one phrase stood out because Ruth had underlined the
Yes!

Yes! I'm sure your astonishment equals mine.

At least that didn't sound like tragedy.

Kitty needed to read the astonishing news in private, but Lady Cateril was waiting. The beginning of the letter seemed to be normal news and she didn't think Lady Cateril could see the crossways writing, so she'd make do.

My dear Kitty, it's been a long time since I wrote, but we've been very busy here in Beecham Dab. Such terrible news about Princess Charlotte. All around put on some mark of mourning, and we tolled the bells at the time of her interment. It is a reminder to us all to be mindful of everlasting life.

Sadly, we have been visited by death more frequently than usual here this year, which has kept us busy. A sickness came in the summer heat and carried
off ten in the parish, including the sexton. Many others were ill, even into harvesttime. By God's grace all in my family escaped and are well. Little Arthur is babbling very cleverly for three. Maria is still quiet, but that makes her an easy babe.

Kitty remembered that Ruth's second birth had been difficult. She and the child had survived, unlike poor Princess Charlotte. She continued to read more descriptions of the children and the hard work of the parish, and about a pair of clever cats they'd acquired, which were keeping the vicarage completely clear of mice.

At that point she invented a farewell and folded the letter. She longed to leave the room immediately to read the rest, but that could stir suspicion, so she used the entry into a necessary subject. The housekeeper had asked her to try to persuade Lady Cateril to allow some cats in the house.

“Perhaps we should have cats, Mama. There are mice in the kitchen area, causing problems in the storerooms. A cat or two would control them.”

“I could tolerate cats
there
, Kathryn, but cats do not stay in their allotted space.” Kitty had no answer to that. “I'm pleased you see for once that I am right. It's a pity that your dog doesn't kill mice. Dogs do generally obey orders.”

Sillikin half opened her eyes as if commenting on that.

“I've never known her to kill, Mama.”

“If she weren't fed, perhaps she would.”

Preferably kill you!

Seething, Kitty left the room without explanation. She couldn't stay in the room another moment, but she itched to read Ruth's astonishing news. Perhaps Andrew Westway had been offered a grander parish, or even a place in a bishop's establishment. Kitty had no idea how advancement in the church was achieved, but she was sure Ruth's husband deserved it, if only because Ruth had chosen him. Perhaps they'd received an unexpected inheritance, or found buried
treasure in the garden. Perhaps the Regent had dropped by for tea!