Chapter 14
Thalia marched down the hillside without looking back. The children crowded around her, all but clutching at her skirts. The quieter of the two boys, Alex, twisted around to stare back at Christian, his face giving nothing away. After a moment, he lifted his hand and waved tentatively.
An orange cat poked its head out of the hamper Thalia carried. It looked thoroughly displeased.
Christian curled his hands into fists, allowing himself a few deep breaths to calm his rage. He briefly considered running after Thalia but decided against it. She, too, would need to cool down.
“Good riddance, that’s all I can say,” Emmeline commented with a huff. “What a dreadful people. I could never understand why perfectly respectable folk choose to bother themselves with orphanages. Nasty, dirty, time-consuming places. Why, I remember Father saying once—”
“Have you quite gone out of your mind, Emmeline?”
She faltered, perhaps taken aback by his sharp tone or even the casual use of her first name. After all, they’d been pretty free with each other’s first names once upon a time.
“I… what?” she stammered, blinking hard. “What are you saying, Your Gr—Christian?”
Christian clenched his jaw until it seemed likely that his teeth would crack. He took a slow step forward, and Emmeline blinked, wilting back. It seemed she was realizing that she had made a mistake, but it was likely she did not understand what she had done just yet.
“How dare you speak to Lady Thalia like that?” he whispered softly. “And speaking so sharply to those poor children? How dare you?”
Color bloomed in Emmeline’s cheeks. “How can you say such a thing? That wretched girl touched my skirt. She might have lice! She would certainly have dirty, sticky fingers. And as for Lady Thalia… Well, did you not hear what she said to me? Tearing off my beads and shoving them down my throat? I never heard of such a thing! One word from me, and she’ll be banned from Society.
A word in the right ear, and I could have her Almack’s vouchers rescinded like that.
” She snapped her fingers. “And her brother can bleat and complain all he wants to no avail.”
“Did it not occur to you that Lady Thalia might be a friend of mine?”
The notion seemed to displease her a great deal. Sniffing, Emmeline tossed back her long tresses.
“You keep better company than that, I hope, Christian. Unless, of course, your taste in friends has greatly gone downhill since we parted ways.”
Christian drew in a deep breath and took another step towards her. She took a wary step back, confusion creasing her brow.
“I don’t understand,” she blurted. “You and I were good friends.”
“Yes, we were. And do you remember why we parted ways?”
Emmeline scowled but said nothing.
There had in fact been a number of reasons.
While Emmeline shared his desire to avoid matrimony and keep her freedom, she had gradually grown more and more possessive of him, even resenting the time he spent with his mother and sister.
That, coupled with her habit of entertaining gentlemen when he was away, had led to the end of their friendship.
He had not expected to see her in London this Season, at least not in the same circles. He had assumed, foolishly perhaps, that they would keep their distance from each other.
Apparently not.
Judging by the mulish expression on her face, she too was remembering why they had left each other’s company.
Christian met her eyes squarely. “Enough is enough, Emmeline,” he said shortly. “You and I are not destined to be together.”
“But if you would only reconsider! Think of the time we spent together. Were we not happy? Were we not—”
“You called Lady Thalia a shrieking banshee,” he interrupted.
She flinched, blinking. “Surely, you cannot mean to say that you have a genuine interest in a woman like her.”
“You no longer have the right to ask me what interest I have in anybody. I do not expect to see you again, Emmeline. And you would do well to avoid Lady Thalia. For your own sake as well as hers. She is remarkably protective over her orphans and might well make good on her bead-ripping promise.”
He turned to leave. Conversing with Emmeline was gradually making him more and more angry. It seemed almost laughable that at one time, he had craved her company more than anybody else’s.
Had she once felt the same way about him? It was likely.
Oh, they’d both known very well that it was not love. Emmeline had once confided in him that she did not believe in love. It was only a made-up idea, she said, the sort of thing poets complained about and authors wrote about. A waste of time, best avoided if it did exist.
At the time, Christian had agreed with her. But now, there was a light in her eyes that he recalled seeing before. What did it mean? Had she changed her mind about love?
He hoped not.
“You cannot possibly be in love with her,” Emmeline scoffed bitterly.
Christian turned back to her. “Love? Who talks about love?”
“Oh, everybody. Do you mean to say you haven’t heard?
There is gossip in town about you and Lady Thalia.
You pay her too much attention, and even rakes are careful about seducing innocent wallflowers with marquesses for brothers.
They say that you must be serious in your pursuit.
If you were inclined to seriously pursue any woman, why her? ”
Why not me, was the unspoken addition.
Christian tightened his jaw, looking away. “I didn’t know that you listened to gossip, Emmeline.”
She flinched, taken aback for only a minute. But then fury flashed in her eyes, and she stormed past him towards the receding figure of Thalia and her little entourage. “I shall ask her myself, then.”
Christian lunged forward, seizing her wrist and hauling her back. She yelped in surprise, staring up at him in consternation.
“Let me be clear, Emmeline, since apparently you do not listen to me otherwise,” he hissed.
“Lady Thalia is my betrothed. Yes, betrothed. What do you think of that? There is an understanding between us. If you disrespect her again, you’ll be disrespecting me.
And you well know the consequences of that.
I won’t allow you to speak cruelly to her.
Now, I cannot control the gossip you share with others, but I should warn you about trying to besmirch Thalia’s name.
Cross me, and you won’t be able to show your face amongst the ton ever again.
Do you understand? Do you understand me, Emmeline? ”
Emmeline had gone quite pale, the color clashing with the burgundy of her dress. “Betrothed,” she echoed weakly.
Christian gave a tight nod. It was the first time he’d said that word aloud. Betrothed.
“So I see,” Emmeline said tightly. “Thank you for explaining this to me. I suppose we had better part ways, then.”
“I agree.”
Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and strode off down the hill. She looked back several times and flinched each time Christian caught her eye.
I haven’t seen the last of her, he thought grimly. She’s got her heart set on me again for some reason. She won’t spread the news about my betrothal to Thalia.
That was probably for the best. Thalia’s brother clearly disapproved of him. It was unlikely that he’d remove his consent to the betrothal, because Christian was a rich duke, but one never knew. Best not to give him any excuse.
When Emmeline was finally out of sight, Christian let out a long, ragged breath. He glanced in the opposite direction, hoping to find Thalia, but she was nowhere to be seen. He’d expected that.
I shall have to explain at the fireworks show.
He thought uneasily of the translations Thalia was meant to be doing for him, as well as the new notes and papers he’d found in his sister’s room.
Those papers appeared to be poetry, judging by the length and rhythm of the lines.
He’d have no chance at all of translating them himself. Would she still do the translations?
Well, she would have to if she wanted him to keep up his side of the bargain.
A bargain. That’s all this is. I act as her betrothed, and she helps me find Laura.
Thoughts of his sister brought a fresh wave of unease. There’d been no word from her and no news of her from the spies he’d sent out all over England. And now Scotland, too, based on what Thalia had discovered.
I’m going to give her a good kicking when she gets home. The worst scolding of her life. Not that she’ll listen to me. Not that she ever did.
He set off down the hill. There was no point in trying to find Thalia, and he wasn’t sure that visiting her at home was a good idea.
Might as well get a drink, then.
His feet took him to White’s. It was hardly as exciting as Hartley’s, but it could provide decent food and good drink at the very least.
A footman took his coat and hat at the door, and he was assiduously shown to a private table. Unlike Hartley’s, privacy could be almost guaranteed downstairs at White’s. There were plenty of secluded alcoves and private booths, although one was never entirely safe from fellow members.
At this time of day, however, the clubs were quiet. It was too late for luncheon and too early for supper, the usual times when gentlemen sought to avoid their families and have a little peace and quiet.
Brandy was brought, and Christian took a long, careful sip.
The Emmeline problem would require some attention. He doubted that she would lose interest in him so easily. Whatever impulse had sent her skittering back to him would not recede anytime soon. His threat might keep her from gossiping about Thalia, but he would doubtless see her again.
No, Emmeline did not interest him. Thalia, however, did.
He thought about how she’d smiled at the children and how they’d beamed back at her, adoring and admiring. Nobody could doubt that they loved her.
He’d heard from others that she took various children out of the orphanage on a treat outing for a picnic up on the hill. He’d also heard that she paid for the food out of the meagre allowance her brother gave her.
She seemed relieved when I spoke about patronizing the orphanage, he thought, swigging back the last of his brandy. I daresay I could do some good.
He hadn’t intended to offer his help, but wouldn’t that be a good way to keep an eye on her?
And if my help benefits some orphans and hard-working nuns… well, there are worse ways to spend my money.
He thought of how the children had stared up at her, hanging on her every word, and his chest tightened.
My son would be about their age. I wonder what she would be like with him? Would she love him, care for him, and make him love her?
Maybe. No sense in pondering that, though, because his son was long dead.
“You can have another,” his father had said, as if it didn’t matter in the slightest. As if children, even babies, were entirely interchangeable.
As always, Christian put aside thoughts of his father. It only made him angry. Having finished his brandy, he gestured for a footman to bring him another.
Instead of a footman hustling over, however, he caught a glimpse of a freckled, chestnut-haired young man of about twenty with round spectacles slipping down his nose. A footman scurried behind him, looking frantic.
“Sir, your membership…” the footman began, but Christian waved his hand.
“I know this fellow. No need to throw him out.”
The footman reddened. “Your Grace, he does not have a membership.”
“Nevertheless, he can stay. He will leave shortly, I’m sure.”
The footman pressed his lips together in annoyance but apparently did not wish to risk contradicting Christian. He moved away, leaving the man free to slip into the seat opposite.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
“Don’t thank me yet, Samuel. I am about to throw you out myself. I only ever see you when you have a tremendously scandalous story to write.”
Samuel winced. “You know how careful I am with my newspaper. I don’t carry gossip.”
“Don’t you?”
“I came as a courtesy. There’s talk about a secret engagement.”
“I assume you didn’t hear this story from a young woman in burgundy?”
Samuel blinked myopically. “What? No. It’s simply talked about.”
“Good.”
“Good?” he echoed, confused.
Christian didn’t bother to explain. Samuel was a decent enough man for a journalist, but he could never fully be trusted. One could never be quite sure what he would write.
At least I know that Thalia and I have been convincing.
“Wait until Lady Pembroke’s fireworks show before writing anything,” he instructed. “I’ll make it worth your while. I shall tell you what to write when the time comes.”
Like any good journalist, Samuel would never accept a bribe in exchange for sitting on a story.
However, the reason he had such control of his newspaper and the funds to write what he liked was all due to Christian’s help some years ago.
In return, he was willing to bend the rules of conscience just a little if his benefactor required it.
He narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips. “I have written about Lady Thalia before. She’s a kind woman and greatly charitable. I don’t wish to destroy her reputation.”
“You won’t. Besides, I’m sure you meet a great many charitable women.”
“Not as many as you think. And Lady Thalia is charitable for God’s sake, not for the benefit of being seen to help. There is a difference, you know.”
“But no difference in the results.”
“You would be surprised.”
A brief silence fell between them.
Christian tapped his fingertips on the table, leaning forward. “Lady Thalia and I have an understanding,” he said. “There’ll be no destroyed reputations. We have spoken of this. However, you must wait a while before breaking the story.”
Wait until I know for certain that she will help.
Something tightened in his chest. If Laura returned of her own accord tomorrow, would he still fulfil his promise to Thalia? He’d be under no obligation to do so, yet he felt an uneasy tension in his gut at the very thought of betraying her.
Samuel eyed him for a long moment. “I will do as you say,” he relented. “But beware, I’m not the only writer in London, not by far. You can’t control what the other newspapers publish.”
“No, but yours is the most widely read.”
“You are up to something, aren’t you? I can always tell. Just don’t let Lady Thalia suffer because of your mischief. It is not fair.”
Christian lifted his eyebrows at the young man and gestured for a footman to approach. The man was at his side at once.
“Your Grace?”
“My companion is just leaving,” he said sweetly.
Samuel rolled his eyes but rose to his feet.
“Think on what I told you,” he said shortly, and took his leave.