Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Nick was filled with triumph as he rode back to Hatton. When the property came into view, he realized that the hall, with its verdant pastures and tranquil lake, had never looked lovelier nor meant more to him than it did at this moment. He had overcome the threat of its loss and firmly believed the risks he had taken to keep it safe were not only worth it but completely justified.
Nick couldn’t wait to share the wonderful news with his twin and put Kit’s mind at ease about losing Hatton Hall to John Eaton. He knew they would have to have a serious discussion about the investments and choose a new trustworthy financial advisor who would keep a tight rein on his brother’s spending, but Nick decided that could wait. Today, he simply wanted Kit and himself to savor the moment and celebrate their good fortune.
“Kit, are you home?” Nick called the moment he opened the door.
“He’s been outdoors, painting, most of the afternoon. He’ll return when the light starts to fade,” Mr. Burke predicted.
“I have excellent news, Mr. Burke. We can stop worrying about John Eaton; I don’t believe he will be favoring Hatton Hall with his presence any time soon.”
“I was never worried, sir. I knew Eaton was no match for a man who defeated Napoleon.”
Nicholas threw back his head and laughed. “Wellington gave me a little help with that one, Mr. Burke.” He ran upstairs and removed the stocks and bonds from his saddlebags. As he looked at the valuable certificates, Nick admired their father’s shrewdness; his only mistake had been in trusting his cousin. The investments, and Kit’s vulnerability, had proved to be too much of a temptation for a miscreant corrupted by greed, as Eaton was.
He unlocked his desk and placed the investment certificates in the drawer along with the forty thousand pounds. Before he relocked the desk, he removed the title deed to Hatton Hall, along with the paper Christopher had signed, authorizing Eaton to make all financial decisions for him. Nick’s mouth curved as he anticipated his twin’s surprise when he handed it to him. He hung his blue coat in the wardrobe, removed his starched neckcloth, and unfastened the buttons on his embroidered waistcoat. When he heard his brother below, he picked up the two precious documents and hurried downstairs to share the good news.
“Let’s go into the library for a minute, I have a surprise.”
Kit set down his canvasses and followed him warily. “I remember the surprise you gave me last time we were in the library!”
Nick laughed. “I’m sorry I thumped you; I can never remember being that angry with you before.” His eyes examined Kit’s face, and he was relieved to see that the bruise had almost disappeared. “Christopher, if you could have one wish for anything in the entire world, what would it be?”
Kit’s eyes became wistful. “Do you want the truth?”
“Always.” Something told Nick he shouldn’t have asked.
“I wish I could go to Italy and study painting. Did you know that most of the world’s finest art is in the city of Florence?”
“Italy? What about Hatton?”
“Hatton has become a millstone about my bloody neck. Sometimes I hate the damn place!” Kit said passionately.
Nick was dismayed and wished he’d told him the good news immediately. “John Eaton no longer has possession of the title deed to Hatton Hall; we do! It will never be a millstone again.”
Kit stared in amazement at the deed with its red seals. “How on earth did you get it back from the thieving swine?”
“I robbed his coach on the heath.”
“You are the highwayman?” Kit asked in disbelief.
Nick grinned. “That’s not the only document I retrieved.” He handed his twin the authorization he’d signed. “I thought you might relish the pleasure of burning this paper.”
Kit let out a whoop of joy. “Christ, Nick, you are amazing! If you hadn’t left to join the army, I never would have gotten into such a bloody mess. Together, nobody can beat us!” He lit a candle, held the paper to the flame until it ignited, then tossed it into the empty fireplace.
“I’m taking Hatton Hall’s deed to London, and putting it in a bank vault, where no one can get their greedy hands on it again.”
“You are an arrogant bastard, Nick. Have you forgotten that I am Lord Hatton and the deed belongs to me?”
“Are you prepared to fight me for it, Kit?” Nick slipped the deed inside his shirt. “I assure you, my lord, that is the only way you will get it.”
Gray eyes stared into gray for a long, drawn-out minute. “I was only jesting. Damn, this is such a load off my mind; I think I’ll join Rupert at the Epsom races this weekend to celebrate!”
Nick immediately decided that it was not the best time to tell his twin about the investments he’d recovered. He also concluded that it was high time he removed everything from his desk and got it safely to London. “I won’t join you. I have some unfinished business in Town.”
“In that case why don’t you try out my phaeton? That pair of chestnuts I bought are a bit of a disappointment. Their gait doesn’t seem to match. Perhaps you can solve the problem.”
The problem is that they are not a matched pair. “All right, I’ll give them a run and take a look.” Nick hesitated, more than curious about Alexandra’s visit this morning. “By the way, did you decide on a date for the wedding yet?”
“I told Alex it would have to be in the next two weeks, thinking I’d need her money to save Hatton, but thanks to you I can now give her the month she asked for.”
“Did you tell her about your financial troubles?”
“Good God, no! I don’t want her to think I’m marrying her for her fortune. She’ll find out soon enough.”
Nick clenched his fists and vowed to replace the money his twin had squandered. He would do everything in his power to make sure that when Kit married Alexandra, it would not be for her money.
The next morning, while Kit still slept, Nicholas transferred the stocks and bonds, as well as the four bundles of twenty-pound notes, from his locked desk into a valise. In a separate bag, he packed his black clothes, which Mr. Burke had meticulously cleaned, tucked in the black leather mask, and added his army pistols. In the stables, he harnessed the chestnuts to the phaeton, tied his mare’s reins to the back of the carriage, and was on his way to London before his twin even opened his eyes.
As Nick tooled along the Great West Road, he watched the chestnuts’ gait closely and saw that every now and then, the lighter horse fell out of step with the leader. He theorized that if he put blinkers on it, so that it couldn’t see the leader, it would have to rely on the other animal’s rhythm and would find it easier to keep pace. He reflected that it was rather like what he was doing with Kit, keeping him in the dark about their finances to keep him in line. His mind then moved on to what lay before him.
Alexandra put off telling Dottie that she had agreed to marry Kit in two weeks time. Then, on Friday, she received Kit’s note, giving her a short reprieve.
My Dearest Alexandra,
Please forgive me for the way I behaved when you came to see me. I am more than happy to concede to your wishes and have our banns read in church. A month may seem forever to an impatient bride-groom, but I do understand that a bride needs time to prepare for her wedding.
Love, Christopher
P.S. Rupert and I are off to Epsom races on Saturday.
Struggling to push aside all thoughts of Nicholas, Alex went out to the garden to convey her news to Dottie and Margaret. “Christopher and I have decided to get married in a month. Our banns are to be read in Hatton church the next three Sundays, and the wedding will be the following Saturday.”
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful. You must have a new gown.”
“We cannot afford such an extravagance,” Alex protested.
“Fiddle-faddle! You are to be Lady Hatton; you cannot go to your husband in rags! Ride over and tell Rupert he must drive us to London tomorrow.”
“Rupert and Christopher are going to Epsom races, I’m afraid. I shall ride to Town as I did last weekend. I have to deliver my article to the Political Register,” she improvised quickly.
“You cannot ride into Town alone; ’tis most improper! I cannot understand what I was thinking of to let you go last week.”
“I’ll wear Rupert’s clothes and a tie-wig. No one will know I’m a female, and it will be the very last time, I swear! We did have an agreement, Dottie. You promised me complete freedom if I agreed to become Lady Hatton; I have kept my part of the bargain!”
“Mmm”—Dottie cast an accusing glance at Margaret—“I do know what happens when a young woman is forbidden to do something. Since I don’t want you running off with an untitled lout, I suppose I had better let you have your last taste of ‘complete freedom’ as you call it. I shall be most interested in reading your article.”
Alex swallowed. “It’s not finished yet; I’d better get to it.”
When she put pen to paper it was simple enough to write a scathing article about the Prince Regent and his disgraceful attitude toward England’s new hero, Wellington. It was no secret that the Iron General had shouldered most of the cost of war during the last year, with little support from the government or pudding-witted George, who had been deliberately penurious with both troops and funds. Then, when Wellington had won victory for England, Prinny was so jealous and afraid that he had stripped him of his power and sent off his Peninsular Army directly to America, out of his control. Now the Regent was offering him the insulting post of Ambassador to Paris to keep him away from England.
Alex pointed out that the Prince of Wales was reluctant to reward Wellington with a decent pension, yet he and his brandy-soaked friends dropped thousands of pounds at the races and the gaming tables on a weekly basis, and he had just paid a fortune to an artist called Thomas Rowlandson for some pornographic sketches. To add insult to injury, the rotund Regent had persuaded the government to spend hundreds of thousands on a collection of Dutch artwork. She ended the article by demanding reform. Government abuses had been overlooked because of war, but now that the war was over, they should and would no longer be tolerated.
Alexandra was so pleased with the article that she decided to take it to the Political Register in the morning and try to get it published. Then she drew a caricature of Prinny and his cronies at a gaming table, groaning beneath a mountain of money.
On Saturday morning, Rupert drove his phaeton to Hatton Hall, picked up his friend Kit, and headed south to Epsom for the races. This weekend was the annual Oaks race, second only in importance to the Derby, and Epsom’s close proximity to London guaranteed a large attendance by titled young bucks. It also attracted opportunists such as prostitutes, pickpockets, and peddlers who sold everything from fruit to flesh. Since drink was the foremost vice of the nobility, tents had been set up with the expectation of doing a brisk business in the sale of wine, whiskey, and blue ruin.
Christopher carefully avoided any mention of his financial difficulties to his future bride’s brother, yet thought nothing of sponging off his friend, taking full advantage of his generosity. Rupert laid out the money for their bets on the first race, and when Kit won he pocketed the winnings without a thought. When they encountered the Duke of York with his latest mistress on his arm, Kit tipped his hat with great deference, hiding his jealousy until His Royal Highness was out of earshot. “Fat Freddie is addicted to the turf! The lucky swine always wins obscene amounts of money. No wonder the fat pig has women panting after him. Let’s put our money on whatever he’s backing in the next race.”
Their enjoyment of the day increased apace with the guineas they won, and their laughter grew louder each time they repaired to the refreshment tent. It was mid-afternoon before Kit had a sobering encounter that effectively wiped the smile from his face. Rupert had just left to place their bets on the next-to-last race, while Kit lingered behind to finish his whiskey. Suddenly, he heard a voice that sent a cold shiver down his spine.
“Hello, Harm; thought I might run into you at Epsom.”
“Get the hell away from me, Jeremy Eaton. You and your fucking father have sucked me dry!”
“I doubt that, cousin. You are adept at worming your way out of any difficult situation that may arise. We have much in common, you know. Trouble with our fathers must run in the family. Mine has kicked me out of the ancestral home. It’s a good thing I prefer London to Slough; so much more convenient to White’s.”
“Can you not get it through your thick skull that my money is all gone? Even a leech like you cannot suck blood from a stone!”
“Harm, did I mention anything about money? What I have in mind is accommodation. As I recall, isn’t your town house on Curzon Street within walking distance of White’s? A year’s free lease would suit my needs perfectly.”
“You had better have a care,” Kit threatened with deadly menace. “If my twin learns that you are blackmailing me, he will take you down so hard, you will never get up again!”
Jeremy laughed in his face. “You are so droll. Your twin is just as guilty of perpetrating a criminal fraud on the authorities as you are. The two of you conspired to lie about your father’s death. I am sure the gallant captain would never forgive you if you allowed this to get out. Think it over, cousin; ’tis a small price to pay for my silence. I shall be at White’s on Tuesday.”
Kit watched him stroll off to enjoy the last race. I shall never be free of him! The son of a bitch will blackmail me until the day he dies! As he went in search of Rupert, one scheme after another went through his mind to rid him, once and for all, of the bloodsucking swine. Each plan he visualized ended by his putting a ball in Jeremy Eaton’s brain. Kit dismissed each plot as too risky; then it suddenly came to him that there was a way to shoot his cousin—and get away with it. Without a doubt, the perfect answer to his dilemma was a duel!
“Damn, where have you been? You just won the last race and weren’t even here to watch it,” Rupert informed him.
“How much?” Kit asked absently, his mind on bigger fish.
“Odds of twenty-to-one gives you a win of two hundred guineas!” Rupert said happily.
“I warrant my luck has changed,” Kit declared. “Why don’t we go to London for a couple of days next week and make the rounds of the clubs? Sort of a last fling before I become leg-shackled!”
Alexandra, wearing her male attire, went directly to the newspaper office when she arrived in London. The editor of the Political Register was so pleased with the article and caricature that he paid Alex ten shillings. It was more than she had ever received for her writing, and it made her feel good inside. The country was sadly in need of reform, and if her efforts helped, even in the smallest way, it was worthwhile. Perhaps after they were married she could persuade Christopher to take an interest in the government. As a Lord of the Realm he had a voice and should use it to help bring about changes to unjust laws and petition the Regent for reform.
She stabled Zephyr at Berkeley Square, then went upstairs to change from her male attire. When Hopkins served her a light lunch he asked after Sara and Mistress Margaret, as he called her mother.
“I believe Margaret enjoys being back at Longford Manor. Sitting in the garden every day seems to have done her good. Sara likes the country too; the sun has brought out her freckles, and I’ve been teaching her how to ride.” Alex took a deep breath, then plunged in. “Hopkins, I want to thank you for your unfailing kindness to me on my visits to London. Whether I dress as male or female, and no matter what strange hours I keep, you never raise an eyebrow or show the least disapproval. After this visit I probably won’t be back at Berkeley Square for some time. I am to be married shortly.”
“I wish you every happiness, Mistress Alexandra. If the lucky gentleman is Christopher, Lord Hatton, I know your grandmother will be most pleased with your choice of husband.”
“Thank you, Hopkins. Before I left Longford, Dottie made me promise to visit Madame Martine’s in Bond Street and at least look at new gowns, but it seems such an extravagance.”
“Every bride should have a new gown for her wedding, Mistress Alexandra; ’tis a tradition, not an extravagance.”
“You’ve convinced me, Hopkins. I’d better go now, while the mood is upon me, before I change my mind.”
As Alex walked up Bruton Street on her way to Bond, she decided against white for practical reasons. By the time they married, Christopher’s mourning period would be officially over, and since social invitations would begin to arrive for Lord and Lady Hatton, Alex decided that a new ballgown would not be amiss. She would put it on Dottie’s account, and somehow, someway, pay for it later.
Alex did not mention her upcoming wedding to Madame Martine, since she did not want the Frenchwoman telling her that her choice was unsuitable for a bride.
“I weesh to thank you verrry much for recommending my shop to the Duke of Devonshire’s sisters. Both Lady Granville and Lady Carlisle came in to buy cashmere shawls, like the one you chose, and ended up purchasing many other garments.”
“Oh, I’m so glad they brought you their business. Today I came to look at gowns, and perhaps I’ll take a cashmere shawl for my grandmother; she loves beautiful things.”
When Madame Martine brought out a gown of palest sea-foam green muslin, Alex knew she had to have it. It had long, diaphanous sleeves that fell in points, and the low-cut bodice was decorated with rosebuds and leaves of green silk love knots. When Alex tried it on, it fit her to perfection. “Oh, it makes me feel so feminine; I cannot resist it!” When she looked at the shawls, one stood out from all the rest. It was cream cashmere with a black silk fringe, and she knew Dottie would adore it. “Wrap them up, please; I shall take them with me.”
As she strolled back to Berkeley Square, enjoying the sights and sounds of the London afternoon, she refused to dwell upon what lay ahead of her in just a few short hours.
Only when the clock chimed seven did Alex begin to prepare for what would be her final performance at Champagne Charlie’s. To her horror, the flesh-colored net garment that had been washed so often suddenly fell apart. Reluctantly, she knew she would have to perform naked this one time. Alex dressed quickly, feeling great relief that this would be the last time, and hoped fervently that Charlotte King would not be angry when she found out that Caprice would not be back. As Alex walked along Pall Mall, she had to admit that Mrs. King had always dealt generously with her, allowing her to use her private bedchamber to dress after her performance, and always coming upstairs with her hundred guineas before she left. Alex took a deep breath, lifted her chin high, and walked into Charlie’s. Only three more hours and I’ll be back in Berkeley Square, without anyone ever knowing my wicked secret!