What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(106)

“Bless you, sir.”

“Wait a few minutes,” he said. “I wish to help you.”

Lucy put the precious coins in a small purse she hid in her apron. When Mr. Woodward returned, he gave her a letter. “This should help you to procure employment.”

Oh, dear God. It was a letter of character. She could escape Buckley. “You’ve been so kind, sir.”

“Godspeed, dear. We will see you at Almack’s next week.”

Her spirits rose as she walked out and crossed the street, dodging the mud and horse droppings. She realized she was near the place where she’d threatened the handsome stranger with her knife only last night. In retrospect, she thought she’d misjudged him, but she shook off her guilt. A rich man like him hardly needed her sympathy. Her survival and that of her grandmama depended on keeping her wits about her.

She slowed her step as she neared a large building. A well-dressed gentleman handed over his horse’s reins to a groom. Lucy had heard of the Albany, the famous gentleman’s quarters. It occurred to her that she might inquire about employment there. Surely a place designated for bachelors would require the services of maids. Now that she had a letter of character, she had a far better chance of finding decent employment. She told herself not to get her hopes up, but she had nothing to lose, so she rapped the knocker.

Two hours later, Lucy had passed muster with Mrs. Finkle, the head housekeeper. The rules were simple enough. All she had to do was clean until the rooms were spotless, and of course, she mustn’t fraternize with the gentlemen residents. Lucy had no intention of jeopardizing her new position. She was thrilled that her pay would be twice what she made assisting Buckley. For the first time in three years, she dared to hope that she and Grandmama might improve their circumstances.



Mrs. Norcliffe’s drawing room, that same afternoon


“I am exceedingly concerned about attendance at Almack’s,” Mrs. Norcliffe, the newest patroness, said. “The gentlemen are abandoning our fair temple of respectability in droves. Something must be done.”

Lady Jersey sniffed. “One would think that the quadrille would entice the gentlemen.”

Mrs. Norcliffe thought no such thing, but she kept silent. Everybody knew that Lady Jersey had introduced the quadrille to Almack’s. “I will be honest, ladies. I have a personal concern in seeing Almack’s returned to its former popularity with all of the beau monde.”

Lady Cowper, whom everyone knew was having an affair de coeur with Lord Palmerstone, sighed. “I believe we must resort to stronger measures, but Mrs. Norcliffe, you speak of your own concerns. Does this perchance relate to Granfield?”

Mrs. Norcliffe set her dish of tea aside. “My son refuses to leave his shabby rooms at the Albany. I fear he will take after his bachelor uncle, God rest his soul. The dukedom is in jeopardy. I must find my son a bride, for he surely will not consider it.”

Lady Castlereagh sniffed. “I’ve yet to meet a bachelor who did not resist marriage. My advice is to trap him.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “I could not lower myself to such tactics.” Not yet, at any rate.

Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, known as one of the highest sticklers, drew her quizzing glass to her eye. “You must find a way to entice Granfield. He will want someone young and pretty with at least five thousand for her marriage portion.”

Princess Esterhazy’s eyes twinkled. “Let us not forget that His Grace has already inherited a fortune. You need stronger inducement. I recommend an introduction to a beautiful young woman. If all goes well, he will conceive a grand passion for her.”

Lady Jersey rolled her eyes. “The only thing that entices gentlemen is their clubs. They gamble, they drink, and they take snuff. How many lose and win fortunes every night? It is scandalous.”

Mrs. Norcliffe applied her fan. “I had hoped that he would accept Lady Bellingham’s invitation to dine. She had meant to invite Miss Lingley and her parents, but apparently my son begged off due to other commitments.”

“Well, we all know what that means,” Lady Sefton said.

Mrs. Norcliffe sighed. “Indeed, the clubs.”

“I think they would live in them if possible,” Lady Cowper said.

“Perish the thought,” Countess Lieven said, “but truly we must help Mrs. Norcliffe in her quest. A dukedom is too important to let fall to a distant cousin or worse. No one wants to find an American among one’s relations.”

Mrs. Norcliffe placed her hands primly in her lap. “Dancing is the mode of courtship, is it not? Do we not encourage our fair offspring to find their perfectly suitable partners for life at a ball?”

“Yes, of course,” Lady Sefton said, “but you wish to make a point, do you not?”

“We need to make the experience exciting for the gentlemen,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

“No spirits,” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell said. “The gentlemen will huddle around the sideboard all evening and overindulge.”

“Mrs. Norcliffe, how do you propose to drum up excitement?” Lady Cowper said.

“It is rather daring,” she said, “but one thing we know about gentlemen is that they cannot resist competing.”

All of the ladies leaned the slightest bit forward.

“I propose a dancing competition, one that would stir up passions not only for the dancers, but for observers as well. Of course, I hope to find my dear son a wife in this manner.”