Chapter 6
Cart reclined against the fraying seat of his dated carriage as his mother lectured Theo on her decorum when visiting her first modiste.
Unbeknownst to him, there was a proper protocol females used when attending their modistes.
There were measurements to take, orders to be recorded, and fabrics to be chosen.
All he saw was any advantage earned from Lord Barton’s acquisition flying quickly from his hands to pay for ladies’ finery; gloves, slippers, bonnets, and gowns.
It was unimaginable how little his coin covered in the way of women’s necessities—and Theo had yet to be presented to society.
What then? Formal ball gowns and headpieces?
A proper phaeton to take rides in the park?
Cart would do well to keep his options open. Business with men such as Barton was not enjoyable on a personal level, but provided the funds necessary to keep his mother happy with enough stashed away for Theo’s grand presentation to the ton.
Expense, expense, expense.
Everything translated to a figure—a shilling here or a pound there.
There was no end in sight, certainly.
It would be best if he kept his eyes closed as if he dozed as the carriage delivered them to Bond Street with its fashionable modistes, mercantiles, booksellers, and even hat shops with exquisitely constructed—and preposterously adorned—headpieces displayed in large glass windows to lure in London’s finest members.
It was a way of life Cart was uninterested in: the opera, the musicales, the dinner soirees, the balls. Not a single one drew his interest…until his encounter with Miss Judith Pengarden. Jude.
If she attended all social functions, it might very well change his opinion of them.
For now, he prayed for the midday traffic to lessen, allowing them to arrive quickly on Bond Street and for him to be rid of his mother, though he would enjoy a few uninterrupted hours with Theo to hear how her studies were progressing.
Curse his lack of a second proper carriage or suitable horse.
He’d been relegated to calling on Miss Jude only after delivering Lady Cartwright and Theo. And then he’d be beckoned to return within an hour’s time to collect them.
As if he were a bloody nursemaid.
But there was little choice as he’d sold all but one of their family carriages shortly after arriving home from university.
It meant fewer stables hands with salaries and upkeep on only one coach.
As inconvenient as it was at this precise moment, it had saved Cart four hundred and twenty-six shillings in the last several years.
If his mother hadn’t insisted the curtains be drawn tightly, Cart would have carried along his current periodical, Silliman’s Journal, which offered fascinating theories on geology.
The journal had arrived from the Americas only a fortnight before, and Cart was re-reading each scientific article with an eye for applying the information to his own studies.
An elbow nudged his side. “Simon,” Theo whispered. “Are you sleeping?” For effect, he breathed in deeply, emitting a snore. Theo giggled and Cart cracked open one eye. “Oh, I knew you pretended.”
“I am certain you did not,” he huffed, closing his eyes once more.
“Either you bluff or you and Momma have far greater things in common than you admit.”
Cart opened his eye a slit once more and took in Theo’s smirk before giving in and sitting up straight.
He immediately wished he hadn’t. Across from him, Lady Anastasia Cartwright had fallen into a slumber after her instructive tirade regarding proper manners when a lady arrived on Bond Street to spend her coin.
Unfortunately for Cart, and supporting Theo’s claim, his mother reclined in the exact same position Cart had been in moments before, her arms even folded over the expanse of her bosom.
Theo giggled. “For a certainty, you look far more like Momma than I.”
Cart wished he could deny Theo’s words, but saw most of his best features mirrored in the woman directly across the carriage from him—that was, all except her tendency to ridicule. That was a quality he found highly distasteful and never sought to imitate.
“Oh, you think you are far removed from her?” he teased.
When she nodded, he continued, “Let us hope you acquired Father’s good sense and not hers.
” He laughed, startling Lady Cartwright where she dozed before she shifted and her breathing deepened once more.
Part of him wanted to wake her and point out that she was wrinkling her dress—a gown he’d likely paid her maid an extra hour to press the night before.
He pushed the thought from his mind. He’d gone over this many times in his head—his chances of ridding himself of his mother’s continued expenses were elevated if he were to allow her a significant allowance to attend society functions.
His hope was that an aging lord would take notice of her and set his sights upon courting her, either improving his mother’s sensibilities or taking her off Cart’s hands entirely.
Several years now and his hopes had been dashed season after season.
No man took interest in his mother, or at least no man called on her.
He supposed there could be goings-on he was unaware of, but his ability to see all happening around him was strong. Certainly his mother was not able to slip away under his nose to meet with a suitor.
Theo elbowed him again. “Simon, I doubt you ever listen to me.”
“What?” he asked to cover his inattention.
“Just so. I asked if you’d take me with you,” she pleaded.
“I do not see the need for new gloves or boots. I would much rather accompany you on your errand. It must be far more important than selecting the ‘perfect shade of cream’ for a new set of gloves that will likely be ink-stained before a fortnight passes, thus gaining me yet another scolding from Momma.”
“You know I cannot liberate you from your fate this day.” Normally, he’d have rescued Theo from his mother’s clutches; however, today his errand was not of the ordinary sort.
“But one day in the future, you will thank me for insisting you are properly educated in both your studies and…the less desirable daily female obligations.” He was calling on Jude—at her home—and he was nervous beyond anything he’d ever felt.
His palms perspired, his forehead was moist, and his pulse had elevated.
No amount of breathing or calming arithmetic figuring helped.
His unease had grown so intense that Cart contemplated joining his mother and Theo for their shopping excursion.
However, that would draw far more attention than his accompanying them in the carriage as opposed to simply riding one of the aging stable stock.
He refused to arrive at Miss Judith’s on a horse barely capable of carrying his weight.
That was far more debasing than arriving in a carriage older than he.
His financial situation was known far and wide within society, yet a part of him hoped that Miss Jude hadn’t heard of his family’s disgrace at the hands of his uncle.
He stiffened. Why should he care what she thought of him?
Cart was calling on her because he’d blurted his request before taking the appropriate time to thoroughly assess his words and the consequences that would follow his declaration.
If he’d taken the time—and hadn’t been drenched in murky, offensive-smelling pond scum—Cart would have seen the error of his request and adjusted the conversation, turning it in a more neutral direction.
Instead, he’d been made to offer as escort for his mother and sister on their excursion.
“If I must attend to Momma, your duty as my guardian and wise elder requires you to stay by my side.” Between the pair, Cart was not convinced he was the wisest Montgomery offspring.
Theo would one day be a worthy adversary in every endeavor she undertook, but for now, she was continually relegated to precocious girl by him, and bothersome child by their mother.
Her toothy grin told Cart she thought she had him bested.
“Aw, well…” Cart turned fully toward her on the bench seat.
“My first priority as your guardian is to make certain you are properly cared for and all you require is available to you. Thanks to our scoundrel of an uncle, I must provide a service and collect my fee to maintain our home and provide you with an adequate education—and those delicate white gloves you so loathe shopping for.”
Theo slouched in her seat, defeated.
“Do sit up straight, Theodora,” her mother chastened.
Neither had noticed she’d awakened, but from her dour expression, she’d likely overheard his comments about their uncle, her brother-in-law by marriage.
“It would also suit you well to smile—young ladies who take to excessive frowning create horrid aging lines.”
“Momma, I—“
“I do not need excuses, young lady, only action,” Lady Cartwright continued, unfolding her arms, which had creased her gown.
She pulled the curtain back, the late morning sun casting a bright trail down the seat between Cart and Theo.
“We are almost there. Simon, I am happy to see you departing the townhouse—you’d do well to dispel your lone tendencies and mingle within society more.
My friends fear you are turning into a recluse of the worst kind. ”
Theo sighed beside him and Cart wished he could give her what she wanted. One day, she’d thank him. He was certain of it.
“Simon,” his mother called, still staring out the window. “Do return on time to collect us. I will not be wandering the streets of London like a vagabond awaiting your return.”
“Of course, Mother.” Cart would never leave Theo stranded, even during the busiest hours of the day in the most heavily populated thoroughfare in London. “I will not be long and will likely return long before you have completed your tasks.”
The carriage slowed in front of the milliner’s storefront and rolled to a jerky stop.