His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(42)
The sounds of a normal morning routine came from inside the stable. Horses munching hay, a groom whistling God Save the King while he swept the aisle. This conversation wasn’t normal, though, not between Lily and her cousin.
“I’m sorry, Lily,” Oscar said. “I know Papa keeps a close eye on you. I hadn’t realized it was that bad.”
Because Lily and Uncle Walter made sure nobody realized exactly how contentious their relationship was.
“I manage,” Lily said. “Once you have a few pounds together, take them to Worth Kettering to invest. He’s discreet and canny, and your small sum will soon grow.”
Oscar burped, perfuming the morning air with stale wine and garlic. “Papa wants to invest with Kettering. I’ve wondered if the Ferguson side of your family does business through him. They have the paternal portion of your inheritance to manage.”
Since leaving her finishing school, Lily hadn’t seen the Ferguson side of the family. Mama’s husband had been a younger son of an Irish ducal family, and they preferred their seat to anything resembling English soil. Once a year, the current duke wrote to her, and he wrote back. All very proper and hopeless.
“How do you know the Fergusons are minding my father’s fortune?” Lily knew it, because Walter had explained the finances to her in detail more than ten years ago.
“I’m lazy,” Oscar said, “I’m not stupid. Any hatpin will open the drawers to Papa’s desk, and if he don’t want me poking about in his study, then he shouldn’t keep our best brandy on his sideboard. Though lately, even the best brandy hasn’t been worth the bother.”
The joy filling Lily as a result of her dawn ride was fading, like a creeping fog obliterates the sun.
“Is Uncle in financial difficulties?”
“How can he be in difficulties when he has the Leggett half of your fortune to bring him right? I’m not saying he’d steal from you, but he might make himself a small loan to weather a rough patch.”
Walter Leggett would steal from Old Scratch himself.
“Get whatever money you can to Worth Kettering,” Lily said. “Do it yourself, don’t trust the servants.”
“Not even Lumley,” Oscar murmured, suggesting he was sober enough to grasp the import of the conversation. “I can be careful. You be careful too, Lily. I’ve heard you’re spending time with Kettering’s titled brother. Is that at Papa’s behest?”
Well, yes. Initially. “I enjoy the earl’s company. Grampion doesn’t put on airs and he’s sensible.”
“And if you can bag that one,” Oscar said, squinting down the neck of his empty bottle, “you’d dwell in Cumberland, far from Uncle’s reach. He’ll never let Grampion pay you his addresses though.”
“You seem quite certain of your conclusion.”
Oscar tossed the bottle into the bushes. “Lily, if Papa’s in dun territory and dipping into your funds to cover his losses, the last thing he’ll do is get into settlement negotiations with the Kettering family. Before a titled lord takes a bride, her family’s finances and his family’s finances are shared in detail. Your Ferguson relations will bestir themselves to get involved, and then you have an earl and a duke peering at Papa’s ledger books. He won’t like that.”
Lily’s hopes—so fragile and new—took a bludgeoning. Oscar, hen-witted bon vivant and fashion plate, had seen what she had not.
“I have been an idiot.”
Oscar patted her arm. “You’re pretty. You needn’t be clever.”
She rose and paced away from the mounting block. She liked Oscar well enough, but she didn’t like him touching her even with tipsy affection. Then too, he needed a bath and a long session with his toothpowder.
“I have been too focused on missing earbobs when I should have seen the larger context.”
“You’re not wearing earbobs.”
And Lily hadn’t been thinking. She’d been dreaming of a serious, passionate earl who intended to make an appointment to speak with Uncle Walter next week. Good God, what a muddle.
“We never had this conversation, Oscar. If anybody asks, we talked about how to bring my mare back into condition.”
“Regular work,” Oscar said. “Fine for a horse, has no appeal for me. Where are you off to?”
“I must change out of my habit. Uncle would scold me into next year if I showed up at breakfast in riding attire.” And Lily felt a desperate compulsion to make sure her small hoard of money was where she had hidden it.
She let herself through the garden gate and took the servants’ stairs up to her room.
*
“We’re off to see your Uncle Worth and Aunt Jacaranda,” Hessian said, extending a hand to Daisy. “At the rate your social schedule is expanding, I shall soon have to find you a pony.”
The nursery maid, a stout, gray-haired bastion of starch and bombazine named Sykes, folded her arms.
Daisy’s grip on Hessian’s hand tightened. “Even if I’m bad, you’d give me a pony?”
Oh, for God’s sake. Hessian hefted the child to his hip. “You cannot be bad, Daisy. You might make a misstep, have a lapse, exercise poor judgment, or do something you regret, but you cannot be bad. And yes, if you’re consistently making poor choices, I might limit your time in the saddle temporarily, but that would take extreme provocation.”