Chapter 10
Cart breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he heard the door shut behind Jude.
It had been his plan to show her all type of antiquities in his possession—an intellectual wooing, if you will.
The pair of them finding a mutual affection based on common interests…
that would lead to more. More of what? Cart hadn’t thought that far, which was evident in his almost disastrous visit.
The hour had passed so quickly, he’d lost track of time.
If he were lucky—not that Cart took much stock in luck—but if he were, Jude was not currently being accosted by Lady Cartwright as she left Cart’s townhouse.
Overall, his time with Jude had gone as well as could be expected.
Returning to his desk, Cart sank into his chair and placed his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, flipping the ends over his ears. A stroll in the park…tomorrow at half past five. He opened his appointment log to see that he had a meeting at two in the afternoon. He was free after that.
Very good, he thought.
It was not often he ventured out for any fresh air or exercise beyond what was necessary to meet with someone, such as the garden party with Lord Barton.
Even during his time at Eton, Cart did not take to archery or riding as most of the students did.
It was far more beneficial to his future that he use the library and other educational services offered.
Years after his requested departure from the university, Cart still longed for the quiet hours surrounded by books of learning with access to scholars in any given field of study.
Cart was resigned to spending an increased amount of time outdoors if it was something Jude partook in regularly.
“Simon Montgomery!” Lady Cartwright swept into the room, snapping Cart from his daydreaming of Miss Jude—an irrational waste of time, to be sure.
His mother, dressed in the height of fashion, or at least what had been fashionable five years prior, discarded her wrap and handbag on the seat Jude had vacated not long ago.
“A carriage was departing as I arrived home. Did I have a caller?”
He remained silent, deciding whether he should deny any knowledge of a caller.
“Oh, you were locked in here and didn’t hear a thing,” she said, answering her own question and providing Cart with a way out of correcting her. No one corrected Lady Anastasia Cartwright, especially her own children. “It is not healthy, all this stale air and musty books.”
Cart removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose, a headache taking hold at her shrill proclamation.
Nothing his mother hadn’t said before. Though, somehow, her words rang truer than before.
Maybe it had been unwise of him to dedicate so my years to his studies, the search for his family heirlooms, and his quest to collect.
Could it be his overwhelming need to hunt and gather was due to everything he held dear being stripped from him without any type of warning?
It was only in his nature, a personal correlation between his identity and his need to possess, which drove him to crave the tangible. It was something about himself he’d never felt the need to question.
And Cart still hadn’t the time to question why he felt the way he did…it simply was.
Especially when his mother had him pinned by her unrelenting stare.
“I will need an increase in my allowance,” she said, obviously irritated to have to repeat herself and beg her son for coin. “I have incurred unforeseen expenses that I simply cannot neglect.”
“Another new dress—or possibly a hat much like the many you currently have sitting unworn in your dressing chamber?” The ache behind his eyes intensified.
Cart had no clue why he argued with her over expenditures.
He would give her the coin regardless of the frivolous nature of her desires.
It was the ruin they’d settled into. She badgered him about his ineptitude, blaming him for his uncle’s deceptions.
And he pretended to be the penny-pinching, ungrateful son, who would cast his aging mother out of his home if he could pull himself away from his studies long enough.
It was exhausting—and Cart yearned to be rid of the charade.
If not only to relieve himself of undue pressure but also to put Theo at ease.
She didn’t deserve a mother and brother who were constantly at war over trivial things.
Purchasing a new dress and parting with coin that could buy an entire meal was not as monumental as Cart and his mother made it out to be.
“Mother.” Cart gave in. The time it would take arguing over the increase in allowance was better spent working.
“My apologies for my insensitive comment. How much will you be needing? I will have it delivered to your chambers when I return after my appointment—or, if you prefer, I can send the funds directly to settle your account.”
“Handle my affairs as if you are my keeper?” She was affronted by his offer, further maddened by his gall—when in truth, he only sought to help her.
“Do have it delivered to my rooms. Besides, I find myself longing for travels. I have been in this crowded town too long. It is time I see a bit of what lies beyond London.”
At that moment, Cart would have agreed to deliver it to St. James’ or Buckingham Palace to end this.
He would do anything to not see the accusing stare or hear the accusation of his negligence that led to her throwing herself at his feet for funds in the first place, though traveling—especially outside London—had been something she’d been vehemently against for many years. “How much will you need?”
Her chin notched up, showing her disdain for her place in society. “I am confident twenty-five should be enough.”
It was almost her entire monthly allowance. “I will collect twenty-five shillings.” Cart would not admit he did not possess that amount lying about his study.
“Pounds.”
Cart’s eyes narrowed and his throat constricted. “Pardon?”
He wondered if his hearing were worsening along with his eyes, for he’d most definitely heard her incorrectly.
“I am requesting twenty-five pounds.” She pronounced the words slowly, as if he were an infant still working to grasp the English language.
His butler didn’t make that amount per year. “Have you lost your mind?”
With that amount of coin, she could travel to the Orient—or farther—and live for years without wanting for anything.
Her face reddened and she stomped her foot, much like Theo had done when she was younger—before growing out of such childish ways of self-expression. “It is my money,” she shrieked. “Your father promised—“
“It belongs to the Cartwright Earldom,” Cart corrected.
“Which I am as Lady Cartwright,” she countered.
“Mother.” Cart massaged the back of his neck to lessen the gathered tension. “Most days, I find it difficult to scrape together twenty-five shillings. Where do you suggest I find twenty-five pounds?”
“Sell something.” It was always her answer. She never offered anything of value belonging to her to sell, however.
“If you still have your jewels close, I can select a few pieces and have your funds by day’s end.”
“You shall not sell my things,” she huffed, waving her arms wildly about his study. “Since you are responsible for the financial crisis we are in; why not be rid of all the useless things I see you toting in here daily?”
How she could blame an eighteen-year-old boy for their family ruin was incomprehensible.
He’d spent more years than he cared to admit knowing he was responsible for his family’s financial woes—countless nights assessing what he could have done differently to foil his uncle’s plans and innumerous days spent trying to gain back all of what his family deserved.
Yes, his mother blamed him for all their troubles, but it was nothing compared to the culpability he laid at his own feet.
Cart hadn’t yet reached his majority when his father passed.
His uncle was appointed as his guardian until Cart finished his studies.
His mother had been the one present while Julian Montgomery, his father’s only sibling, pilfered every penny from the estate—and his treachery ran far deeper than that.
“I have worked tirelessly—for years—to restore our family’s wealth and possessions.
” Cart slammed the palm of his hand on the desk, rattling his neatly organized quills.
His mother’s eyes widened and she gasped at his uncharacteristic display of emotion.
“And every day, you find joy in telling me how it will never be enough for you—never be restored to what we once had.”
Lady Cartwright crossed her arms and glared at him, as if challenging him to prove he could ever be enough for the Cartwright title.
“Have it your way.” He wasn’t giving in, only seeking to use the situation to his advantage.
“I agree to dispose of one of my antiques, however…” He let the words trail off, not wanting to jump straight into his compromise with her as she’d likely spot his manipulation.
“In exchange for the twenty-five pounds, you will not take Theo with you but allow her to attend a school of my choosing—away from London.”
And you, he added silently.
“I have told you repeatedly, I forbid her to attend a school away from this townhouse and if she were to travel with me, her education would continue to be seen to.” Cart knew the possibility of her agreeing to his demand was slim.
She was a fairly rational thinker and disregarding his offer so readily did not suit her character.
“However…” She sighed as if seriously considering his proposal. “When would she leave?”
“As soon as I’ve located and interviewed a school—and found it appropriate.”
“Thirty pounds.” Lady Cartwright was nothing if not insightfully clever with her bargaining skills. “And she does not depart until after the season ends and I’ve settled on my own travel plans.”
“You understand that as Lord Cartwright—and Theo’s legal guardian—I do not have to obtain your permission?” he asked. “I only seek to keep the peace in this household by extending to you my plans for her future, no matter if they impede yours.”
“You will ruin any prospects she has of a proper match,” Lady Cartwright accused. “No man will seek the hand of an overly educated, free-minded young woman.”
“I think you misjudge what gentlemen find appealing in the fairer sex.”
“It most certainly is not a woman who seeks a career as a doctor—or heaven help us both—studies the law.”
She could not understand why any woman would seek to study more than needlepoint and the harpsichord.
However, times were changing. The roles of men and women were blurring—and Cart would not allow his only sibling to enter her adult life without the skills and knowledge to care for herself and her family.
It mattered naught that Theodora was a woman and, therefore, deemed less than a man.
Cart shuddered to think what would have happened if he’d been a woman, arriving home to find out someone had taken all that should have belonged to him and should have supported many generations to come. Theo would never know that fate.
“School for Theodora—and thirty pounds for you to do with as you wish,” he offered. “In exchange for you not fighting me on this decision.”
It was the best agreement Cart could hope for. It would definitely be worth the many pieces he would be forced to sell in order to scrape together the funds he’d promised her.
“Momma.” Theo’s voice came from the open doorway.
Cart replaced his peeved expression with a welcoming smile for his sibling, hoping his mother saw fit to do the same.
“Yes, my dear.” The words were strained.
“Cook is looking for you to discuss the menu for supper.” Thankfully, Theo appeared oblivious to the debate regarding her future that had only moments before heated hotter than ever. “She awaits you in the drawing room.”
Lady Cartwright swung back around, a generous smile playing across her lips as if to show him she were still in control—at least where the staff was concerned. “I agree with your proposition, Simon. Do fulfill your obligations quickly. I have much to prepare for.”
She turned on slippered feet and marched toward the door, pausing briefly to peck Theo on the cheek before departing the room with her skirt billowing in her wake.
“What have you been quarreling over this hour?” Theo asked, entering the room further.
“You know us too well, Sprite,” he replied, hoping to distract her from the question. When she refused to rise to the bait of her hated nickname and only stared, awaiting an answer, Cart continued, “It is of no import—only adult matters.”
“I am not far from being an adult, Cart.”
He took a moment to look her from crown to toes, shocked by how true her statement was, but never would he admit it.
At her age, there were many young women already promised to their husbands.
“I assure you, the thread of our discussion was as uninspiring as the unseasoned duck soup Cook makes every Christmastide.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Yuck!”
“Exactly so.” Cart relaxed into his chair. “Now, where did you run off to when my visitor arrived? You were very serious in your negotiations to see her.”
Theo’s face paled. “Oh, I realized neglecting my studies only to gain a peek of your caller was not my wisest decision.”
“You seemed very convinced of it before,” he said. “Why the quick change?”
“I am almost of an age to be rid of these plaits and short dresses. It would not be in my best interest to gain a reputation by spying on others.” Theo had been taking note of their mother’s strict lectures on decorum.
“Besides, whoever she was cannot be all too interesting. She was here to visit you, after all.”
Cart chuckled. “Yes, yes, I know. You find your older brother highly tedious and dreary.”
A bit of coloring returned to her cheeks with his laughter. “I will let you return to your dull routine.”
She dropped into an exaggerated curtsey, one their mother would in no way approve of, her hands lifting her skirt high enough to expose her stockings where they ended just below her knees.
“You are allowed to pester me any time,” Cart said, settling his glasses on the bridge of his nose once more. “And I think you shall be meeting my visitor at some point.”
Theo’s smiled wobbled slightly and he filled with concern.
“Is all as it should be?”
“It is just that your mention of routine reminded me that I must practice my piano before Gustavo arrives for my lesson.”
“Very well.” Cart nodded in dismissal, though he felt her words were forced.
But there was much he need ponder before his afternoon in Hyde Park on the morrow. None of it having to do with his mother or her travel plans and all to do with Jude; namely, how he would hide his lack of a proper open-air carriage—or rideable horse.