Lady Charlton,
I am extremely disappointed. So far my daughter has been seen being escorted by various undistinguished Misters, one Viscount—your own nephew—but no Earls or Dukes. It is Not Good Enough. I made it Very Clear to you that she is to marry a Titled Man. To refresh your memory of our agreement, I have enclosed a Reminder—a copy only. I hold all the originals.
Octavius Bamber, esq.
She unfolded the enclosed paper and glanced at the contents. Bile rose in her throat. She crumpled the copy in her fist. She did not need to read the whole thing. She remembered the occasion . . .
She walked over to the fireplace and threw the letter in the fire. She watched as it briefly flamed then slowly turned to ash. Oh, that all her problems could so easily be destroyed.
But what to do?
She is to marry a Titled Man . . .
It seemed she’d been unduly optimistic in assuming that Bamber’s main desire was to see his daughter settled securely and happily. This letter made it clear that all he cared about was a title.
If only the wretched man had called in person, she would have talked to him, tried to convince him that Lucy’s happiness mattered more than any title. But he’d probably paid some urchin to deliver the letter. He must know that the money he’d given her for Lucy’s expenses had run out by now.
She had promised not to force Lucy into an unwelcome marriage and she utterly refused to break that promise. And since Lucy was as determined as ever to eschew lords, it was more important than ever that Bamber’s hiding place was found and the letters retrieved and destroyed. He had, after all, broken his side of the agreement by not providing her with the money he’d said he would.
She sat down and penned a quick note to Gerald, then drank a cup of coffee to brace her nerves.
Octavius Bamber would not ruin her day.
* * *
* * *
Lord Tarrant and his daughters arrived right on time. He introduced Alice and Lucy to each girl in turn, starting with the oldest, Judith. She curtsied and greeted Alice with faint reserve, as if wondering just who Alice was and what their relationship was to be. Or maybe Alice was ascribing her own foolish imaginings to the child.
Simple friendship, she reminded herself.
The next daughter, Lina, also curtsied—it was clear the girls had been well trained—and murmured her greetings in a shy almost-whisper. She was a pretty child with blonde hair and wide blue eyes, and Alice wondered if she resembled her late mother. Judith’s gray eyes obviously came from her father, but otherwise there was no strong resemblance.
Of the three girls, the littlest, Deborah, looked most like him, with curly dark hair and wide gray eyes. She bobbed a quick, crooked curtsy and rattled off, “HowdoyoudoLadyCharltonMissBamber.” She glanced cautiously at her father, then added, “Yougotacat?”
Lord Tarrant gave Alice a look that was half amusement, half apology.
Alice gave a rueful smile. “Why, no, I’m sorry, Deborah. I’m afraid we haven’t.”
“Oh.” The small person scowled.
“There’s one that’s often in the garden,” Lucy said. “I’m not sure who it belongs to, but I often see it out there. A ginger tom, very friendly and well fed, so it obviously belongs to someone.”
Deborah’s eyes lit up. “Can we go see?” Judith nudged her, and Deborah added, “Pleeeeease.”
Lucy glanced at Alice for permission. Alice raised a brow in query at the children’s father. He sighed and nodded, “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Lucy assured him. “It’s a glorious day. Shame to waste it by being inside. Come along girls.” She whisked all three girls away, leaving Alice alone in the drawing room with Lord Tarrant. Which had not been the plan. At all.
Those smoky-gray eyes . . .
She invited him to sit. “Sherry?”
“No, thank you.”
“Your daughters are charming.”
“Even ‘Yougotacat?’ Debo?”
She laughed. “She does seem rather more interested in cats than people.”
His eyes crinkled with amusement. “It was practically the first thing she said to me when we met. And now the first thing she says to me each morning is ‘Wegettingthatkittentoday?’ Which she repeats at intervals throughout the day.” His mouth quirked. “At that first meeting I did mention a vague possibility of getting a kitten. How was I to know she’d take it as a sacred oath signed in blood—my blood.”
Alice laughed.
“In my defense,” he added, “I had no idea quite how determined a person that small could be. She’s utterly relentless.” It was clear he adored the little despot.
“So are you going to get her a kitten?”
“Of course, if only to save my own sanity.” He gave a snort of amusement. “The headmistress of the school she was at told me that Debo had been checking the kitchen cat every day, waiting for it to give birth. ‘It’ being a very fat tom.”
She chuckled.
“The difficulty is in finding suitable kittens in London. It seems very few kittens are allowed to grow to a size ready to be given away—most people, unless they want one for themselves, drown them at birth.”
“Oh dear. How very sad for the mother cats—and the kittens, of course,” she added. Thaddeus had never allowed her any kind of pet. It suddenly occurred to her that she could have a cat or a dog now—in fact she could fill the house with pets if she wanted.
It was odd how these random reflections kept popping into her mind. She supposed after eighteen years of having the law laid down to her—and in a way the eighteen years before that had been just as strict, though Papa’s law had been slightly more benevolent—she was only just getting used to her freedom.
She suddenly became aware that he was looking at her with a quizzical expression. “What?” she said.
“You went away, somewhere else. Somewhere not very pleasant, I suspect.” His voice held no criticism or accusation, just a quiet observation.
She felt herself blushing. “Sorry, I was just . . . just thinking about cats and keeping pets. I’ve never had one.”
“Never? Don’t you like animals.”
“Oh, I always wanted one—a dog rather than a cat, but I would have been happy with either.”
“Then why did you never get one?”
“My father didn’t approve of unnecessary animals—which was his definition of a pet—and my husband didn’t like them, either. Cats made him sneeze.”