A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(32)
Lieutenant Crisp blinked at him, clearly not following the exchange.
Julia patted his arm kindly. “Perhaps you could take Miss Everett around the paintings. She is so slight, I am worried she will become caught in the crush. I daresay I will see you at the rout next week. Charles, do wait until I have taken leave of Lilith. I shall not be above a minute.”
She darted off. Lieutenant Crisp crossed obediently to a slender brunette hanging on to her mother’s arm. Lieutenant Neville watched Julia for a moment, then made some low-voiced comment to his companions who stifled their amusement.
Charles’s eyes, however, were still on Lieutenant Crisp. “I swear, Verity, if Julia runs off with that stripling, I will not rest until I have fetched her back.”
“She will not, though I can see you doing exactly that,” said Verity. She creased her brow. “I have often wondered why my father would not go after Kitty and Captain Eastwick when they eloped. He rode roughshod over everything else. Every plan he made had to be carried out to the letter. Why would he not drag Kitty back to marry Mr Prout when the match was his own arrangement? It makes no sense.”
“Mr Prout?”
“Mr Prout is a Newmarket gentleman with a small estate. Papa was most insistent on the match. They had dealings at the time, I remember. I believe Papa sold him a horse. Or Mr Prout sold Papa a dog. I don’t recall the details. He had many such acquaintance.”
“I am ready,” said Julia, returning. “That was a most instructive afternoon. Thank you so much for suggesting it, Verity. I cannot remember when I have enjoyed anything more, having started with such low expectations. Shall we go?”
On the way back, Charles let Verity’s and Julia’s chatter wash over him as he thought about the brief conversation he’d had with Fitz while both were striving to look as if they were mere nodding acquaintances.
“Interesting,” Fitz had said on being given a summary of Verity’s adventures. “I agree with you. A word with this Molly Turner could be advantageous. An assignment for Nicholas, I think. He will be back tomorrow. If you start hanging around the theatres yourself, it could arouse suspicion in many undesirable quarters.”
“Indeed, and if you do, it will arouse even more. Nick, however, already has something of a reputation in that direction. Will you send him word?”
“I will. You concentrate on playing the conscientious attorney.”
“Fitz, I am a conscientious attorney, and one who will have to work tonight to make up the time spent on this afternoon’s charade. I apologise, by the way, for letting Verity know about us, but she had already guessed and as it turns out, her friendship with your sister is useful.”
His friend shrugged. “Lilith is loyal and discreet. If you have no objection, she and Miss Bowman could form a useful line of communication.”
“It seems to me to have already been established.” Charles let his eyes rest on Verity’s animated profile as she turned to ask something of Miss Fitzgilbert. “This latest development shows promise, though I could wish Verity was not involved. A conversation with Mrs Eastwick regarding ‘Sim’s fancies’ might prove interesting, don’t you think? Sadly, I do not see how I can be in Grosvenor Street the whole day waiting for her to call. I received all manner of curious looks in the haberdashery shop this morning as it was.”
“No matter. The information may come from Mrs Turner.”
“Or even from Verity herself. I swear these women pull information out of the air. Only collect two of them together and you have the secrets of three ducal houses laid bare in the same time that you and I could play a hand of piquet.”
“It’s a thought, Charles.”
“No. No it isn’t. We have both seen the bodies, Fitz.”
Now he left Verity and his sister in Grosvenor Street and proceeded to the Temple on foot, walking fast to shake the fidgets out of his body. In truth, he was not sorry to be on his own. He would have preferred to have had a clear day altogether before being in Verity’s company again. That moment yesterday when she’d given him no more than a sisterly kiss...
He walked faster, rounding other pedestrians and the small knots of urchins who were everywhere on the streets. It was of no use him forming an attachment to Verity. He was a working attorney. He would not be able to give any woman a home for the next several years, much less the daughter of a gentleman who had been brought up with servants and space around her and a comfortable house. A voice in his head pointed out that he was a gentleman’s son and that the rent on a set of rooms in the Albany was comparable with a small apartment in Islington say, or a little further west. He told the voice to be quiet and turned into Middle Temple Lane almost at a run.
A soothing perusal of boundary clauses and the precise definition of a client’s tenancy agreement did much to rid him of the sensation of a wasted afternoon, even if it failed to alleviate the disparity in his consciousness between a gentleman of means and a gentleman with no expectations whatsoever. He succeeded in writing several firm letters and sent them off with the clerk to the mail before he was informed that Scrivener was waiting to see him, should it be convenient.
“Regarding Captain Eastwick,” began Scrivener. “I collect Miss Bowman has now made contact with her sister.”
“She has, as have I this morning, but I should like to know more about the man himself.”