His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(31)



“Most settlement money is simply kept in the cent per cents,” Worth said.

“And most young ladies of good breeding and ample fortune are married off within a year or two of their come out. Lily Ferguson is comely, intelligent, very well-dowered, and as far as I can tell, in every way a woman worthy of esteem.”

“And yet, we heard her insulted at my very club.”

“Precisely. Most doting uncles would be anxious to see a niece well settled in her own household, a devoted husband at her side. If that were Leggett’s aim, he’s had years to achieve it.”

“And those Sapphic tendencies?”

“An exaggeration at best, a ridiculous fabrication more likely.”

Worth was silent while swallows flitted in and out of the barn and horses munched an unlooked-for treat. “Do you recall Vicar Huxley?”

“To my sorrow.” The ordained man of Christ had beat his wife and children, while preaching love, tolerance, and turning the other cheek.

“You deduced what was afoot long before anybody else did,” Worth said. “Does Miss Ferguson’s situation strike you as similar?”

When week after week a woman was too stiff to rise from her church pew unaided and her children were perfectly behaved regardless of all provocation, even a gormless lad knew something was amiss.

“I am not an expert on abused women, but Miss Ferguson moves with a deal of bodily confidence. Her caution seems to be more of words and emotions than deeds, so I’d say no. Gentlemen are to protect the ladies and ensure their well-being though. That can easily shade into stifling a woman’s freedom and disrespecting her independence. I’m sure a female of spirit and wit would be hurt by such insults.”

“Lannie taught you that.”

Doubtless, Jacaranda, Avery, and Worth’s infant daughter were teaching him the same lesson. “You’ll see what you can learn regarding Leggett?”

“He’s trying to curry my favor, so a few polite inquiries from me will flatter his ambitions. Shall we storm the nursery?”

Yes, please. “Daisy and I are walking in the park with Miss Ferguson and her young friend on Wednesday at eleven. Perhaps Avery would like to join us?”

Worth crossed to the garden and held the gate open. “How will you get to steal any kisses with an infantry square of small children underfoot?”

Hessian sauntered through the gate. “The children occupy one another, leaving many an opportunity for a stolen kiss between the adults. It isn’t complicated, Worth.”

Worth should have burst forth in whoops of fraternal disrespect, should have punched Hessian on the shoulder, should have quipped that Jacaranda had stumbled upon that strategy months ago.

Instead, Worth walked to the house without another word, suggesting to Hessian that the family financial genius could learn a thing or two from his dull stick of an older brother.

*



Tippy was aging, and the realization both saddened and unnerved Lily.

Miss Ephrata Tipton hadn’t been young when Lily had met her more than twenty years ago, and she was the closest thing Lily had to an ally. She was a slight woman, with intelligent brown eyes and graying brown hair. She’d doubtless been pretty when Lily had been too young and frightened to notice.

“You’re kind to pay a call on me, miss,” Tippy said, “but you needn’t bother. Mr. Leggett sends my funds regularly, and I have all I need.”

An odd thought occurred to Lily. “Do you have friends, Tippy?” She always seemed so brisk, so confident and self-sufficient.

Tippy’s little parlor was a riot of cabbage roses—even her porcelain tea service was adorned with cabbage roses—dried bouquets, cutwork, and other evidence of a woman’s pastimes, but Lily had never once come upon another caller here.

“Chelsea is growing so fast these days,” Tippy said. “I hardly know who my neighbors are anymore.”

Chelsea had the dubious fortune to lie close to London, and in a direction the city seemed determined to sprawl. Beyond the village, fields and pastures clung to the rural past, but every year, more houses and streets sprang up, and the fields receded, acre by acre.

“Does the vicar look in on you?” Did anybody take notice of a woman who’d spent her life devoted to a family to whom she wasn’t related?

“I don’t always get to services,” Tippy said, opening her workbasket. “The weather can be so nasty, and my hip does pain me.”

She took out an embroidery hoop, one she’d likely owned since before Lily’s birth. The needle moved more slowly now, but the stitches were as neat as ever.

“Tippy, if I asked you to, would you move back to Uncle Walter’s house?”

Tippy bent very close to her hoop. “Himself wouldn’t want an old woman like me about. Creates awkwardness among the help to have a pensioner at the table.”

Something about Tippy’s posture, hunched over, getting in her own light, sent a chill through Lily. “You’re afraid of him.”

“You are too,” Tippy retorted, “because we’re both sensible creatures who know what he’s capable of. You be careful, Miss Lilith Ann.”

“You’re not to call me that.” Though Lily was glad she had.

“He’s not here to chide me for it, though you’re right. I ought not. How’s that Oscar getting on?”

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