The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(36)

“I’ve already done so.” Mrs. James’ eyes glittered like jet beads. “Since I and my stepson Alastair—he was a great favorite of your late husband’s—have been so much in this house, the servants naturally looked to me to play hostess. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Rosie said politely. “I wish only for your comfort.”

In the stilted silence that followed, Aunt Helena came forward.

“Lady Daltry,” she said pleasantly to the dowager, “it has been quite some time since we have met. I regret the circumstances, but may I say how well you are looking?”

“Thank you, Lady Harteford.” The dowager inclined her head graciously. “I trust your husband and sons are well?”

“Very well. Thank you.”

Aunt Helena took a seat, and others followed suit.

The ticking of the ormolu clock soon became deafening.

“I wanted to express my gratitude,” Rosie said. “For your support today—”

“You misunderstand,” Mrs. James said coldly. “We are not here to support you.”

“Now Antonia—” the dowager began.

“You may choose to pretend that this is some cozy family affair, Charlotte, but I’ll not.” Mrs. James crossed her arms over her scant bosom, directing a livid glare at Rosie. “Not after this chit has brought scandal down on our heads. Why, she’s made poor George a laughingstock—the punch line of a vulgar joke.”

Heat scorched Rosie’s cheeks.

“What happened wasn’t Rosie’s fault,” Polly said staunchly.

“Perhaps your notion of wrongdoing and mine are different… Lady Revelstoke.”

Before his marriage, Polly’s husband had been an infamous rake, his presence deemed unwelcome by certain sticklers. Mrs. James’ snide emphasis reminded Polly of the fact.

Seeing Polly’s bottom lip quiver, Rosie felt a rush of anger. “Speak to me any way you like, Mrs. James, but you will not speak to my sister that way.”

The other’s brows arched. “I’ve said nothing that isn’t true.”

“As I’m sure everyone is quite peaked,” Aunt Helena intervened, “I think it best that we defer this conversation. Until everyone is in a better state of mind.”

“I quite agree,” Lady Charlotte said. “The funeral is no time to delve into family affairs.”

“Are we certain we are discussing family affairs, Aunt Charlotte?” Miss Eloisa’s delicate inquiry was girdled with steel.

“Hush, girl.” Lady Charlotte clucked at her charge. “Mind your manners.”

“But everyone is saying it,” Miss Eloisa protested. “You know they are, Aunt Charlotte. It is better for her sake that she knows.”

“Eloisa,” Miss Sybil said timidly, “perhaps this isn’t the best time—”

“Did anyone ask for your opinion, Sybil?” her younger sister shot back.

Miss Sybil fell silent.

Rosie swallowed. “What are they saying?”

“How do I put it politely?” Miss Eloisa tapped her chin. “That your marriage is a sham.”

A fist of panic pounded in Rosie’s chest. “It isn’t. I have papers—”

“Papers don’t mean anything.” Mrs. James stood.

Aunt Helena and the dowager rose as well.

“Now, Antonia, I must insist—” the latter said.

“Do you want to be recognized as a part of this family?” Mrs. James demanded.

“Yes,” Rosie whispered. “I do.”

“Do you wish to have our backing through the scandal that you’ve caused? To be lifted onto our shoulders rather than be fed to the wolves of ruination?”

Rosie gave a mute, desperate nod.

“Then you shall have to furnish proof.”

“Of… what?”

The fires of judgement blazed in Mrs. James’ gaze. “Consummation.”





Chapter Fifteen


“We’ve got a problem,” Horace Grier declared.

A common refrain of late, Andrew thought wearily. The afternoon was his time to get work done before the club opened its doors to the usual mayhem. On his desk, he had a stack of ledgers that he’d intended to review, but Grier and Fanny had burst in, facing him across the desk, hostility crackling between them.

He set down his pen, his gaze taking in the pair. “What now?”

“Malcolm Todd, that’s what,” Grier said.

At the mention of his rival, Andrew’s jaw clenched. “I just met with the bastard. Made it clear that Nursery House is no threat to his business.”

Three days ago, he’d had a parley with Todd. He preferred to avoid bloodshed whenever possible, and thus he’d taken pains to quell any rumors concerning his venture. He’d informed the other of Nursery House’s purpose—and that it posed no competition to Todd’s brothel two blocks away.

“Todd didn’t get the message, apparently. Got his men surveying that damned nursery of yours,” Grier said. “He’s spread the word that you’re encroaching on his territory.”

Andrew slammed his fist on the desk. “The lying bugger. He’s been spoiling for a fight, and now he’s using this as an excuse to start a war.”