Chapter One #2
As the coach slowed and they all stepped to the ground a short distance from the main activity, Maggie turned to their driver and pressed a coin into his gloved palm.
“We shall not need your services for the afternoon. Enjoy an ice at Gunther’s and return in two hours to retrieve us.
” She glanced toward the splashing pool, surrounded by stone columns and must have found something that piqued her interest because she amended with a murmur. “Make it three hours.”
Sariah offered a grand smile. “Shall we enjoy the day, ladies?”
Four men lounged on the slight hill near the shaded copse of trees barring the Peerless Pond from the rest of London.
Reed Carrington reclined on his side, an elbow propping him up.
Jackson sat beside him while James and Henry were lying flat on their backs, one pretending to doze in the midday sun with his hands beneath his head, while the other tossed a ball of twine in the air and caught in on the descent.
After spending a few hours in the pleasure bath beyond their grassy overlook, they had decided to enjoy the scenery.
Experience had taught them that as the day wore on, more women were wont to dare to escape the sultry, summer heat and dip a foot in the natural spring.
There were times when the small group decided to do some fishing on the other side of the embankment that had been carved out for just that purpose, but today, lazy observation had won out over any such sport.
“I wonder if there will be any new visitors to the pool today,” Henry remarked as he caught his makeshift toy.
“Highly unlikely,” Jackson said in a bored tone, choosing to pull apart leaves of grass. “But one can only hope. I grow weary of the same tiresome ladies. I use that word lightly, of course.”
Reed gave a derisive snort. “What would you prefer? An innocent debutante for you to debauch? Really, Jackson, your tastes haven’t changed in the least over the years.”
“I have risen above the rakish circumstances of my youth,” he retorted firmly. “Do you find it so difficult to believe that I am tired of spending my nights at a gaming hell and would prefer to find love?”
Both Reed and Henry looked at him askance, but it was Reed who spoke. “Have you lost your senses? What sort of romantic drivel are you spouting? Love is reserved for poets and the theatre. It is in rare supply for the masses, especially those of our particular ilk.”
“Desperate for alms, you mean?” Jackson snapped. “Why don’t you just say what you mean, Reed? We are orphaned bluecoats that have nothing to recommend us.”
“That is not entirely true,” Henry said with a lifted hand. “We have our own shipyard which makes a rather secure living.”
“That may be,” Jackson reluctantly agreed, then added, “But we shall never escape our previous circumstances. Besides, do you not understand by now that working for a wage is frowned upon in English society?”
“Hang polite society rules,” Reed muttered. “There is entirely too much focus presented on men of leisure when it is the sweat off of our brows that drives this country to its fullest extent. They just refuse to acknowledge our efforts.”
His companions uttered their agreement, but Reed was already discounting the conversation when Henry brought up another worthless point.
Let them fight amongst themselves over a topic that Reed had already dismissed.
The truth was that it didn’t matter how much they wanted to rationalize their importance in society, it would never truly be recognized by those in power.
Reed was perfectly fine with that. In truth, he’d considered leaving his home country behind and moving across the ocean to explore the Colonies at length.
Although he supposed the Americas had not been called that in some time.
The war for independence had been over for nearly fifty years.
Most of the tensions had finally subsided, while those in England were eager to make a deal with the new country if it might benefit the Crown in some way.
They had resources which they discovered could be of good use and thus, the betrayal had eventually been forgiven for trade purposes.
Reed had never cared much for the political aspect.
He only wanted to find a way to secure his future with a past that had been littered with turmoil and strife.
He was sick of the workhouse and the stigma that came with living on Little Chapel Street at the Blewcoat School in Westminster.
He was through being looked upon as a charity case.
It was one of the reasons he’d worked so hard to better his circumstances.
It had taken some time, however. He had been something of a scoundrel in his younger days, causing havoc wherever he went, nearly being expelled from the Blewcoat School more than once.
He despised feeling the enclosure containing him and vowed that he would discover the freedom that had always been denied him.
Ever since he was a boy in that dreaded uniform that flashed to everyone that he was someone of limited circumstance, he’d fought at the bit to drag himself out of the mire.
Fortune had finally intervened when he’d become friends with these three men.
They all had a similar, rakish nature, but more importantly they had a specific drive that overrode all else.
Together they had embarked on a quest to rule the world.
They hadn’t accomplished that goal quite yet, but they were well on their way, as the coins in his purse would attest.
One of Reed’s heroes had always been John “Mad Jack” Mytton, a squire from Shropshire who was known for his extravagant lifestyle, the sort of man who would do anything so long as it amused him.
He had a very eccentric nature, and Reed and his fellow cohorts had spent some time at his estate, Halston Hall after a brief interaction in London.
It was due to John’s instruction that Reed discovered much about life and finance, and how to not become such a spendthrift. Most importantly, he discovered that life was too short to be taken so seriously. It was meant to be lived to the fullest.
Ironically, his mentor was now serving as a High Sheriff after having spent some time fighting in the war, a position that Reed never imagined John would enjoy.
“I say, what do we have here? Three pigeons ripe for the plucking.”
Reed glanced at Jackson, and then Henry, who had risen from his reclined position. Even James decided to crack an eyelid and lift his head at the announcement.
Curious as to the sudden interest of his friends, Reed looked toward the pond where their focus had landed and—paused. Three women in fashionable attire were huddled together, the joy upon their collective faces rivaling the sun overhead with the brilliance of it.
It was as if the trio were cut from a similar cloth, and yet, they each had their own unique awareness.
The red-haired lady wore a gown of light green and a straw bonnet that did little to hide the satisfaction blossoming on her face.
It was as if she had accomplished some great triumph.
The fair-haired woman was in blue and appeared fascinated with everything around her, her mouth expressing a slight oval.
However, it was the vixen with the mahogany hair in a pale pink gown that drew his particular notice.
She had a similar expression to that of her companions, but there was something altered on her expression as she viewed the swimming hole.
It was as if she had found her true purpose in life at last. It was a mixture of determination and excitement, traits that had melded from each of her friends and swirled into one perfect example of femininity.
It did not hurt matters that she was rather accommodating to look at either.
“I feel as though it is our duty to make our presence known and ensure they feel welcome.”
Reed rolled his eyes at James, who was now fully awake, his focus similar to that of a predator on the hunt for fresh prey. “Just remember to keep your cock in your pants,” he drawled. “We do not need our names plastered in that ridiculous scandal rag.”
“The Belle only chooses men of elevated rank, does she not?” Henry said in an aside.
“No,” Reed clarified, although he was ignored.
The three men at his side were already getting to their feet and straightening the cuffs of their shirts.
He remained where he was, quite comfortable to continue observing.
It wasn’t as though he lacked for female companionship.
He had a particular favorite at the local brothel that he frequented.
He had no need to meet anyone new.