Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Madame Tussaud’s exhibit is in the Strand.
Tales abound of fair ladies fainting in The Separate Room, but how could that be?
Some of those ladies have husbands whose looks would shame a donkey.
If the ladies don’t faint at the sight of their husbands in the bedchamber, I don’t see why a death mask or two should make them do so.
Even a blind man couldn’t miss four scamps alighting from a carriage, Ian thought.
Their racket overcame even the noise in the Strand—the coaches trundling by with badly oiled springs, the workmen knocking about as they renovated a great house across the way, the vendors caterwauling.
He spotted the Taylor Terrors out the window at once, a familial gaggle that Felicity attempted to keep in order while arguing with the hack driver, who’d climbed down from his perch to point at something on the coach.
Ian glanced at his watch. One p.m. Earlier than he’d expected.
With a knock on the ceiling, Ian sent his coachman driving past the hack as prearranged.
Ian’s second knock brought the St. Clair carriage to a halt just ahead of the hack.
Disembarking quickly, Ian clapped his hat on and strode toward his prey.
He could hear Felicity’s protesting voice as he approached. “I shan’t pay a single shilling for damages, I tell you!” Enveloped in a black woolen cloak that looked as if it had seen better days, she shook her finger at the hack driver to punctuate every phrase.
The grimy driver shut the door, which didn’t latch until he lifted the flimsy panel an inch and forced it into place. Then he opened it again, letting it list down as he faced Felicity triumphantly. “You see that it’s broke, don’t you, Miss?”
“I see only that you’re trying to cheat me. I don’t dispute that it’s broken. It’s who broke it that I question. It was like that before we got in!”
“No, it weren’t!” The burly man crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “I take good care of me coach, I do, and that door were closing right proper when I stopped for you and yer brood. It’s those lads of yours what broke it.”
“That’s a lie! You probably broke the dratted thing yourself!”
“I’m warnin’ you, Miss—”
Ian stepped in quickly. “How much will it cost to repair the damage?”
The driver swung around, his gimlet eyes lighting up as he assessed Ian’s worth by the cut of his coat and the fineness of his linen. “Well, now, sir, that depends—”
“What are you doing here?” Felicity’s wary gaze flew to his coach not ten feet away, then back to him.
Ian tipped his hat. “Good morning, Miss Taylor. I was on my way to consult with my man of affairs when I saw the commotion. I thought I’d stop and offer my services.”
“There’s no need,” she said primly. “I have the situation well in hand.”
“Yes, but you and your brothers are obviously on an outing, and I’d hate to see it spoiled. I’ll be happy to pay for the damages myself if you’ll allow it.”
“Don’t you dare pay this scoundrel! I won’t have thievery rewarded, and he—” She pointed an accusing finger at the driver. “He is trying to cheat us!”
“Now see here, Lady Skinflint, you ain’t gonna be lyin’ to the gentleman about me!” With a belligerent air, the driver surged toward Felicity.
Ian sidestepped him to draw Felicity aside. Keeping an eye on the irate coachman, he murmured, “My God, don’t quarrel with him over a few shillings. It isn’t worth it.”
“But that door was broken before we—”
“I’m sure it was. What do you care?”
“It’s the principle of the thing!”
He gritted his teeth. “The principle of the thing will shortly have you and your brothers embroiled in a street fight.” Jerking his head, he indicated two men descending from hacks across the street and hailing their compatriot. One scowled; the other swaggered. Both looked troublesome.
When Felicity paled, he went on in an undertone.
“It’s your word against his, and you’re a woman with four energetic boys in tow.
This isn’t the time or place for your bloody self-righteousness.
I can trounce them for you if you like, but that’s not the lesson you want to provide your little charges, is it? ”
She glanced over at the triplets, who stood mute for once, looking warily from the driver to her and Ian. She winced. “No, I suppose not.”
“Then let me pay the damages. Unless you insist on paying them yourself.”
She flushed. “The driver wants two shillings, and I only brought enough money with me to cover the expense of the ride here and back. So if you wouldn’t mind ...”
“I don’t mind in the least.”
“But it’s a loan,” she hastened to add. “I’ll repay you later.”
“Fine.”
The point would be moot anyway once she agreed to marry him. Still, her lack of money struck him as odd. She’d brought less than two extra shillings with her on an outing with four boys? Was she worried about pickpockets?
They returned to where the driver conferred with his sneering reinforcements. The man faced him with a more aggressive stance, not even sparing Felicity a glance. “Well, sir? Does the miss agree to pay?”
“Yes. Two shillings, isn’t it?”
“Two guineas.”
He raised an eyebrow, bridling at the man’s blatant greed. “The lady must have misunderstood.” Approaching the hackney, he bent to examine the broken door and noted the pattern of rust on the twisted hinge. He glanced up. “Two guineas, eh?”
The driver scratched one rank armpit, a hint of uncertainty in his expression. His burlier friend nudged him. “Aye, sir. That’s wot it cost to fix a hinge these days.”
Ian straightened. “Then whoever repairs your carriage is cheating you. Let me do you a favor. Take your coach to Wallace’s on Chandler Street, and tell him I want the entire door replaced at my expense.
For two guineas, you should at least get something decent.
” He drew out his calling card and presented it to the driver.
The man took it reluctantly, then blanched when he saw the name on the card. With a nervous glance at his friends, he muttered, “I only want the hinge repaired.”
“Whatever you wish. Wallace will take care of you. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough, milord.” He scowled at Felicity. “But I ain’t comin’ back for her and her lot like I said I would.”
Feeling Felicity swell up beside him, Ian laid a hand on her arm. “There’s no need. I’ll take the lady and her family home.”
Her muscles tensed beneath his hand and didn’t relax until the hack pulled away. Then she faced him with typical Felicity impertinence. “Well, well. It seems you understand the ‘principle of the thing’ after all. At least when it’s your money.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I admit it—I couldn’t countenance paying off a rascal. Especially one who enjoys fleecing young women.”
Awareness of him flickered in her gaze. It sizzled the icy winter air, making him instantly glad he’d come. “Thank you for your help,” she said softly.
That was the only conversation they managed before a whirling dervish of arms and legs and eager young males stampeded up to them with all the delicacy of bull elephants.
Cries of “’Odsfish!” and “Aren’t you the man from the paper?
” and “Why did he call you milord?” tumbled from the triplets’ mouths as they circled him.
He suddenly felt like the bear at a baiting, prodded with sticks borne by creatures a third his size.
Creatures with worn coats and tattered hose.
How strange that their sister would dress them so poorly.
His gaze shot to her. Come to think of it, where was the elegant, fashionable attire she’d worn at the Worthings?
Her clothing today was serviceable, but he couldn’t miss the fraying edges of the woolen cloak and the faded color of her simple black bonnet, which had clearly spent too many days in the sun.
“Stop that, boys,” Felicity said sternly. “It’s rude for all of you to speak at once.”
He tore himself from musings about her attire. “They aren’t bothering me, Miss Taylor, but it might be better if we were properly introduced.” Ian smiled at the nearest urchin. “What is your name, young man?”
“I’m William.”
The boy had barely gotten the words out before the one next to him piped up, “This here’s my brother Ansel, and I’m George. But everybody calls me Georgie. And that’s James over there. He’s the eldest.”
“I see.” He used his observational skills to catalog identifying marks for the triplets, quickly registering Ansel’s mole, the scar on Georgie’s chin, and William’s missing tooth. “I’m pleased to meet you all. I’m—”
“—the Viscount St. Clair,” James broke in testily. When Ian cast him a quizzical look, the older boy shrugged his bony shoulders. “I asked Mrs. Box about you that day you came to our house.” He looked defiant. “The day Lissy shouted at you. I thought maybe you’d ... that is—”
“I understand,” Ian interrupted. “It’s good you’re looking out for your sister.” He shot Felicity a meaningful glance. “She needs someone to do so.”
Felicity rolled her eyes. “We’ve kept his lordship long enough, boys. I’m sure he has more important matters to attend to.”
Before he could protest, Georgie cut in. “Can’t he come with us to the exhibit?”
Nervously straightening Georgie’s collar, Felicity said, “Lord St. Clair has a meeting and no time to waste with us.”
“The meeting isn’t urgent,” he said. When her gaze shot to his, he added, “And I’ve never seen a waxworks exhibit. Besides, I promised to take you home in my coach.”
“He did. I heard him.” James assessed Ian a moment with eyes as green and sharp as his sister’s. “And it’ll save us half a shilling.”
Ian began to wonder if the Taylor finances were as secure as he’d been told.
Felicity’s anxious laughter only heightened his suspicions. “Don’t be silly, James. Who cares about half a shilling?” She faced Ian. “Truly, Lord St. Clair, there’s no need for you to bother. I’m sure a day with us would bore you terribly.”