Chapter 23
Beth put a horrified hand over her mouth. He'd wanted them to have a flaming row, and they certainly had. And he'd never shown any sign of hitting her. But, Lord, he was angry and very frightened for her. Was she being an utter fool?
But she didn't see why Blanche should be exposed to risk while she was protected. And, she admitted, she wanted a part in the working out of her plan. She trusted Nicholas Delaney.
Then she remembered Nicholas's wife had declined the adventure and that brought to mind that strange confrontation between Blanche and Nicholas. He had once been an intimate of Deveril's....
Oh Lord, she had tangled herself in a mess, but it was impossible to back down now.
Beth went down to dinner with the duke and duchess that evening, for the first time in days, and found Lucien there, too. He treated her in the same reserved manner that had marked the days before their marriage.
The duke and duchess did not seem to notice. "You are looking so much better, Elizabeth," the duchess declared. "But surely that is a bruise upon your face?"
"I fell against a table, Maman," said Beth. "It is nothing."
"You must be more careful, ma chere. And is it not good news about the battle? Perhaps my poor France can finally know peace. But at such a cost, on all sides."
Talk over the meal was all of the battle. Afterwards the duke and duchess had a number of separate engagements. Lucien and Beth said they were spending the evening at home. The duchess clearly thought this very romantic.
Lucien accompanied Beth to her rooms. "Dress simply and I'll escort you."
Beth frowned at his cold manner but went into her dressing room and dressed again in her darkest old clothes. When she was ready she walked through into his dressing room with only the briefest of knocks. He was bare-chested and just about to pull on a shirt. Beth looked wistfully at his splendid torso and thought how they could be spending the evening. But no, he would still be going out.
"How would you like it if I just walked in on you?" he asked as he pulled the shirt over his head.
"I wouldn't mind."
Something warm flashed in his eyes, but then he concealed it. Beth was heartened, though. He wasn't as cold as he was pretending. She went to hand him his jacket. "It's rather fine though, isn't it?"
"Unlike you," he said, "I don't possess any plebeian clothes. We'll just have to hope anyone who sees us thinks me a swell out slumming with the upstairs maid."
"Lucien," said Beth, "this really isn't fair."
He looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"You may not be hitting me, but you're punishing me all the same for not doing exactly as you wish."
He turned away to arrange his cravat. "I'm supposed to turn a blind eye to any foolishness that enters your overeducated head?"
"There, see," snapped Beth, sinking into anger again. "How can any human being be overeducated?"
He turned to look at her. "Very well, then. Undereducated. Which is doubtless going to be corrected tonight."
Beth sighed. "I have a right to make my own mistakes, my dear."
"Do you?" he asked coldly, facing the mirror again and finishing an elegant knot with a few deft movements. "You might have a thought to those affected by them. I didn't join the army, because my death would be the end of our line, in law if not in fact. Your death would be just as disastrous."
"I hardly think our lives are at risk. And if they are you're risking yours tonight. You just don't want me involved in anything unpleasant."
He sighed and looked at her, then pulled her roughly against him. "Right. I don't want you involved in anything unpleasant. I don't want any other man mauling you, even for a moment. Don't do this, Beth."
Beth snuggled against him. Marriage was a funny business. Endless compromises. "I want to come," she said at last. "But if Blanche can handle the men on her own, I'll let her."
He pushed her back to study her. "You promise?"
"I promise."
He smiled. "Thank you. I confess, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this either." He gave her a steamy, ravaging kiss. "I must admit, too, I'm quite curious to see what you look like as a whore."
* * *
Later, when she looked at herself in the mirror in Blanche's temporary dressing room at Tom Holloway's rooms, Beth wondered what Lucien would think. She was sure he'd blow up again. Certainly Aunt Emma would have a fit of the vapors if she saw Beth now.
A brassy blond wig flowed over her shoulders and her face was so vividly painted there was no question of anyone seeing her bruise. Her skirts were halfway up her calves and her bodice was so low it barely skimmed her nipples.
"Lord above," she muttered.
Blanche, who was still in a wrap and beginning to apply her own makeup, grinned. "Getting stage fright?"
"A little."
"You don't have to come. I can manage."
Remembering Deveril, Beth had no doubt of that. "I have to go through with it."
Blanche smiled her understanding.
"Blanche," said Beth, "what was all that about with Nicholas Delaney?".
Blanche looked over with heavily darkened lashes and brows which made her look vulgar but very enticing. "I don't know."
"But did you really meet him with a whore?"
"Yes." Blanche enlarged her lips with scarlet.
"He must have been married then."
"I suppose so."
"Am I giving in to vulgar curiosity?" Beth asked.
Blanche grinned. "Yes. Irresistible vice, isn't it?"
Beth couldn't resist a few more questions. "Just tell me, was Lucien there, and why did you leave?"
Blanche considered her face and then skillfully applied a little more rouge. "No, Lucien wasn't there. He was out of town. I thought it was just a social evening among the demimonde. It was a ballum runcum."
"What on earth is that?"
"A naked ball," said Blanche prosaically. "At least, the women are naked. Most of the men keep their clothes on most of the time."
Beth stared at Blanche, having difficulty even imagining such a thing. "You're on Lucien's side, aren't you? You don't think I should be here."
Blanche turned to face her. "I think you have every right to make your own choice, but if you enter this world, Beth, even for an evening, don't think it's a game."
Beth looked at herself in the mirror and thought back with disbelief to the days when she'd fought battles as to whether to wear a cap or not. But she was going through with it. It would, she supposed, be a valuable extension of her education.
When she turned resolutely towards the door, Blanche said, "Good for you."
At the sight of her, Lucien briefly covered his eyes but then he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. "How much for an evening's tumble, Molly?" His eyes were laughing, not angry. When she pushed at him, he said, "Come on, I think you should get into your part."
"Charge 'im at least ten guineas, ducks," said Blanche in a heavy accent. Beth looked over at her and gasped. Blanche had obviously been easy on her.
The high dressed dark wig and vivid face-paint were vulgar but it was Blanche's gown which was outrageous. Stays pushed her lull breasts up outlandishly high and her bodice was all but transparent. Beneath it, her nipples were rouged scarlet. She looked nothing like the ethereal White Dove.
Hal Beaumont took a deep breath and stepped over to the actress. "Is that your price too, you shameless hussy?"
Blanche placed a hand on her hip and somehow managed to thrust her breasts a little higher. "I'll give a discount to a wounded soldier, luv."
"Done," he said and grasped her chin to kiss her.
Beth hid her face in Lucien's jacket. "Will it set a terrible precedent if I admit you're right?"
He held her tight. "I promise not to crow. Do you want to go home?"
Beth got her courage back. "No. But if I cling to you, don't blame me."
Lucien, Nicholas, Miles, and Tom Holloway were all dressed in grimy frieze and cheap finery, their faces dirtied. They'd greased their hair, too, and Lucien, who didn't seem to lose his aristocratic elegance no matter what they did, also wore a battered, low-brimmed hat to shade his face.
They were all in fine fettle, bubbling with excitement. Overgrown schoolboys, Beth thought, but she couldn't help catch their enthusiasm. Once out on the street she began to feel her part as if she was an actress walking onto a stage. "I think this comes easier than playing the marchioness," she said saucily to Lucien.
"Just remember this isn't your true calling."
"Swing your hips a bit more," Blanche said quietly. "You're walking like a nun."
Beth studied Blanche and then began the same kind of swaying walk, hand on hip, light on the feet, moving her shoulders to greatest effect.
"Hey, lovely!" called a roughly dressed passerby. "Want better company than you've got there?"
Beth winked at the man over her shoulder. Lucien dragged her against his side. "Gerout of it!" he snarled at the man, showing a fist. The man hurried on his way.
Nicholas was almost helpless with laughter. "We are supposed to be on serious business, my friends. Beth, you can come out and play harlot another night." He took Beth's other arm and hurried them along. Blanche had Miles and Tom Holloway to escort her as Hal had reluctantly split to do his duty with Francis at the front of Deveril's Grosvenor Square house.
As they had expected, the streets were already filling with merry crowds celebrating the victory. All the buildings bore extra lights though they hadn't had time to mount proper festive illuminations. Drink was flowing but the mood had not yet turned wild.
Beth had never been involved in such an atmosphere in her life and, safe between Nicholas and Lucien, she loved it. When the crowd began to sing "God Save the King," she joined in lustily.
She laughed up at Lucien. He grinned at her, swung her out of Nicholas's grasp, and into a thorough kiss. The crowd shouted and whistled its approval. Beth was left feeling dizzy and very much wished they were in a more private place.
The crowds thinned as they got closer to Grosvenor Square. There had been riots here earlier in the year over the unpopular Corn Laws but the mob had no reason for anger tonight, no reason to seek out the homes of unpopular ministers and break the windows.
Such a disreputable group as they were gained a few funny looks, but the pavement was still supposed to be free to anyone, and so they strolled along without interference.
Near Deveril's house they passed Hal and Francis, every inch the gentlemen and apparently chatting while waiting for a friend or a carriage. Francis held up two fingers as they passed. He thought there were two men in the dark house.
They continued to Upper Brook Street, then slipped down the alley to Blackman's Mews, which ran behind Deveril's house. It was dark and slimy underfoot.
Nicholas seemed to have a mental map, for he stopped by a path leading up to a house. "All right," he said. "You go up first, Blanche, and get in there. They'll be cautious about opening the door—Deveril was a tough master and they don't know he's dead—but they'll open for you quickly enough. Keep them distracted and make a lot of noise. I'll climb on the roof of the scullery and in the upstairs window. It shouldn't take more than a minute or two to do the job. Lucien and Miles will watch near the kitchen, and Tom will watch back here with Beth. All right?"
Beth grasped her courage and pulled away from Lucien. "I think I should go, too." She carried on over his protests. "Two on two will be so much easier, and it's only for a few minutes. Please, Lucien?"
After a moment Lucien sighed. "You're determined to have your piece of the glory, aren't you? Go on then."
Beth recognized the extent of his sacrifice and gave him a hug. Then she followed Blanche up to the back door while Lucien and Miles slipped along behind them.
Lucien whispered, "Scream for help if you need it. Either of you." Then he and Miles moved off to the side to conceal themselves.
Blanche and Beth could see through a lighted sunken window into the kitchen. Two men were sitting at a table playing with greasy cards and drinking what looked to be a good wine.
"While the cat's away...." Blanche muttered. "At least there's no sign of a gun. Ready?"
The men were rough and dirty and reminded Beth of the two men who had accompanied Deveril, but she nodded firmly. "Ready."
Blanche went down the steps and knocked. They heard a bolt drawn back then the door was opened cautiously by a bearded man with a pistol in his hand. He hadn't been one of the card players. There were three.
"Yeah?" he grunted.
"Well," said Blanche in a heavy accent, "is that any welcome for a lady? I've a mind to share that bottle of wine, luv."
The man relaxed and opened the door a little more but also looked carefully out behind them. "Where did you fall from, me angel?"
"Heaven, of course," said Blanche. "Your master, he ordered us up for your supper, 'andsome."
The man's eyes sharpened. "His lordship? You've seen him?"
"Yesterday, luv. Look," Blanche added with a pout, "are you goin' to let us in? There's other fish in the sea tonight, you know. In fact, I think we should all go out and join the fun."
"Can't, me honey," the man said, adding with a grin, "but you'll certainly make a dull time brighter." He opened the door wide. "Come on in. Hey, lads, come see what his lordship's sent for us!"
The two men threw down their cards. "Bleeding sight for sore eyes," said one who was largely without teeth. His eyes seemed to strip the clothes off both of them.
"Too soddin' right," said the other, flashing a great many very yellow teeth.
Beth found herself frozen.
Blanche sauntered over to the table, and the two card players stared at her, mesmerized. "Wot a lucky girl I am, then," she purred, "to have such fine fellows smilin' at me."
Beth gathered her wits and quickly entered the kitchen and shut the door. The third man turned and leered at her, putting down his gun. As she'd hoped, he didn't remember to shoot the bolt again. Lucien could get in if things turned bad.
She smiled at the bearded man, though she feared it came out a bit sickly. "Hello, sweetheart."
He reached out to grab her, but she sidestepped him. "Don't I get some wine, 'andsome?"
He grabbed her anyway. "Pay a kiss for it," he said.
His mouth was slack and wet and sour. Beth was sure he wasn't as foul as Lord Deveril, but she could quite see how Clarissa had thrown up her breakfast. She commanded her rebellious stomach to be still and writhed about as if she were enjoying it. She hoped Lucien couldn't see this, or he'd be fit to kill.
When the man's mouth freed hers, he chuckled. "You're a proper spicy dish, aren't yer, me little molisher? Come on, Pepper, and have your wine. There's plenty more where that came from." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to the table where Blanche was skillfully playing one man off against the other with much shrieking and banging about.
Was Nicholas inside? Just to do her bit, Beth staggered and knocked over a stool.
Her escort pulled her straight. "You're well on the go already, ain't yer?" He thrust the bottle at her. "Have some more."
They needed to play for time. "Well," said Beth with false refinement, "hi ham more haccustomed to drink from hay glass, sir."
Blanche shrieked with laughter. "Right spark, she is. We call her 'the duchess!'"
All the men roared, and the black bearded one casually tweaked one of Beth's nipples. Fortunately he took Beth's outraged squeal as part of her act. "Right away, Yer Grace. The best crystal, do yer?" To Beth's horror he went out of the room to get it. Was he going upstairs? Nicholas was up there somewhere. She ran after him.
The man turned, then grinned knowingly. "So that's yer game, Duchess. Yer a smart one and no mistake. Fancy a nice comfy bedroom, do yer? Come on, then."
Beth glanced around frantically. They were at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the ground floor, and the wall was lined with shelves holding bowls and pots. The noise from the kitchen was deadened by the closed door. She could hear nothing from above. Nicholas must surely be in, which was the noisy part. If necessary she'd break some pottery.
"I think I'd better go back to me sister." she said coyly. "She'll get awful jealous."
"Let her, Pepper. Perhaps I'll give her a turn upstairs, too. Come on." He grabbed her wrist in a beefy paw.
"Let go!" Beth squealed. She suddenly remembered that they weren't supposed to go upstairs and dug in her heels.
"Wot the hell's up wiv you?" the man growled. "Don't you play off your airs and graces wiv Tom Cross, Duchess." He yanked her to him, turned her over his knee, and landed two stinging blows on her behind, which her flimsy skirts did little to cushion. Beth saw red.
"You disgusting man!" she shrieked as soon as she was upright. She grabbed at the shelves. The first thing that came to hand was a small iron skillet. She crowned him with it with all her might. His eyes crossed, and he collapsed down at the base of the stairs.
"Bravo!" declared Nicholas from the top of the stairs. "I was beginning to think you'd need rescuing."
"I rescued myself," said Beth, aware of a flicker of pride. She rubbed her behind and rearranged her bodice. "Are you finished?"
"Yes. I'll give Lucien the signal and you can get out of here."
"What about him?" asked Beth, pointing to her victim. "Won't he spoil the plan?"
"No, he won't be surprised to find you crowned him. But he won't keep long either. Get on your way." He disappeared back to the upper reaches.
Beth put on a brazen face and sauntered back into the kitchen. Blanche was on the toothy man's knee, feeding him wine from the bottle. The other man was hovering impatiently. He turned quickly. "Where's Tom?" He wasn't so much suspicious as wary of poaching on the other man's property.
"Gone to get me a glass, of course," said Beth saucily. The man came at her. Beth backed up. She really couldn't take another mauling kiss. She looked around for a weapon—
Lucien and Miles burst in. "Wot the hell you doing, Molly?" Lucien roared, grabbing Beth.
Blanche leapt off the toothy man's knee with an impressive squeal of fear. "Help!" she cried. She tried to hide behind the toothless one, but he didn't look keen to fight.
"Who're these then?" he asked.
"We're the ones wot say where they go and who they go with, that's who," snarled Lucien. He dragged Beth towards the door. "I'll give you wot for when I get you home!"
Beth started to wail. Miles grabbed Blanche without hindrance from either of her would-be swains. As they got to the door, Beth saw the pistol Tom had put down and grabbed it. Then they were out.
As they ran through the back yard towards the mews, there was a roared obscenity. "No little drap's going to do fer me!"
"Tom!" Beth gasped and thrust the pistol into Lucien's hands.
"What have you been up to?" he drawled as he quickly checked it. A glance back showed the three guards in the doorway.
"Come on!" whispered Nicholas.
They all ran into the mews, heading for the exit into Upper Brook Street where Tom Holloway was waiting with a carriage in case they needed a quick escape. A carriage entered the mews from that direction.
"Hell," muttered Nicholas.
They looked back. Deveril's bullies were coming into the mews and at least one had a pistol. With a curse, Nicholas flattened himself against the wall out of sight. Lucien waved the pistol, and the men hesitated.
It seemed an age they were frozen there. Would the men raise an alarm? Or were they too disreputable to call attention to themselves? Would the coachman try to stop them if they ran past him?
"Scylla and Charybdis," murmured Lucien lightly. "Can we take them?"
"Psst!"
They all looked in astonishment at the nearest carriage house. A small figure appeared and beckoned urgently.
"Robin!" Beth gasped.
"Come on!" the boy whispered and beckoned again.
After a moment they ran towards him, Nicholas carefully moving behind them.
"Stop them!" bellowed Tom. "Thievery!"
"Oy there!" yelled the coachman. "Stop!"
They were in the coachhouse, "Follow me," said Robin and darted through the vehicles towards the back.
Without question, they obeyed. He led them out an unglazed window and into a narrow gap between the coach house and the wall of a nearby house. It was clogged with weeds, but they trampled along it after the boy. He stopped and disappeared through the wooden wall into another building of the mews. When Beth got there she found two planks were missing, allowing enough space for a person to squeeze by.
They were in a stable with three horses standing in stalls. The beasts shifted lazily. In the distance they could here the bangs and voices of their pursuers.
Robin silently pointed to a ladder. They crept over and climbed up to find themselves in unused sleeping quarters, dusty and almost pitch dark. Robin moved the ladder over against a wall then reached up. Getting his meaning, Lucien leaned down, with Nicholas and Miles anchoring his legs, and hoisted the boy up.
They shut the hatch and collapsed in the dark to get their breath back. Beth could hear someone, probably Nicholas, trying not to laugh. They could hear faint voices but none nearby.
There were two windows. They were very dirty but they let in some light and gradually Beth's eyes adjusted so that she could see a little. She wriggled over into Lucien's arms.
"Exciting enough for you?" he murmured.
She laughed softly. "Truth to tell, I'm enjoying myself."
"So I gather. What did you do to poor Tom?"
"Knocked him out with a skillet. He was taking liberties."
He stifled his laughter against her shoulder.
"To what do we owe the pleasure of this rescue?" asked Nicholas of Robin.
"Oh, allow me to introduce you," said Lucien. "Nicholas Delaney, Robin Babson. What on earth are you doing here, Robin?"
"Looking after you," said Robin cockily. "Seemed too good of a night to be tucked up asleep, what with the battle and all, so I sneaked out to see some fun. When I saw you doing the same, I reckoned there was something up. You could have knocked me down wiv a feather when I saw you all togged up like that." He looked at Beth and rolled his eyes. She giggled.
"I were behind you all the way here, and you never knew a thing. I knew you'd end up needing help. I heard a bit of your plan, and while you were striking the dub I sneaked around this place."
"Well done indeed," said Nicholas. "Wellington couldn't have done better. We shall see you rewarded. If, that is, you can be relied on to stand mum." There was an undeniable note of steel in his voice.
"You can depend on me, milord!"
"Plain Mr. Delaney. What do you want?"
"What?"
"What reward do you want?"
Robin looked blank. Beth quickly said, "I think he should be allowed to choose what profession he wants to train for."
"He's learning stable work," said Lucien with the clear meaning that there was no other job on earth worth having.
Beth could see that Robin was torn between a desire to be away from horses and a fear of being away from his idol. "Perhaps you'd prefer an inside job, Robin," she prompted gently.
"Perhaps," he muttered.
"I have a fancy to have a page. Of course, you'd have to spend a lot of time with me and wear a fancy livery."
He glanced up, wary but bright-eyed. "Might not mind."
"And I'm afraid I would have to insist that you learn to read and write and all kinds of other things if you are truly to be of use to me."
"Do you think I could?" he asked uncertainly.
"I'm sure you could. After all, you can't stay a page forever. You may want to become a footman, or even a butler one day."
"Like old Morrisby?" he asked, as wide-eyed as if he'd been offered the crown of England.
"Exactly. So if you cared for such a change...."
"Yes, please," he said with careful good manners.
Lucien ruffled his hair. "Ambitious little imp, aren't you? Now, if you want this glorious future, you'd better get us all safe away from here or we'll be too busy picking hemp to assist you."
"Gam!" scoffed the boy, grinning at them. "Not but what you'd have been in a bumblebroth without me. Wait here."
He slithered over to the hatch and raised it a crack. Then he pushed it up carefully and swung himself down. Beth gasped at the drop, but they heard him scamper away.
In a few moments he was back. "All's bowman. Here's the jacob."
Within minutes they were all safely down and the hatch closed. Lucien replaced the ladder against the wall. "There's a back way out the mews," said the boy. "Follow me."
All went sweetly and soon they were on Park Street and working their way, a group out for a lark, to Grosvenor Square to tell Hal and Francis all was done. They turned onto the square and froze.
Hal and Francis were there, talking to the First Minister of England and the Duke of Belcraven. Francis looked over and gave a wild look.
The duke caught it. He turned, curious. His eyes passed blankly over the ill-favored group, paused thoughtfully on Robin, then traveled back.
Beth felt herself color up and hoped her garish face paint hid it. She could sense Lucien fighting laughter. He got enough voice to say, "Evenin' guv. And a grand night for England!"
"Indeed it is," said the duke and looked at Robin. "Don't I know you, boy?"
"Who, me, guv? Nah." True to his part he walked boldly forward. "Got a sixpence, mister, to help toast the duke?"
Blanche, the other professional, swayed forward. "Give me a shilling and I'll sing a ditty."
At the sight of her, the Earl of Liverpool grew red in the face. "Begone with you, you shameless hussy!"
But the duke laid a hand on his arm. "They are only out rejoicing on this great day, Liverpool." He produced a coin. "Let me see... I wonder who is your leader."
Without hesitation, Lucien dragged Nicholas forward. "Here he is, milord."
"I might have known," murmured the duke and passed over the five-shilling piece. "Be sure everyone gets a bumper, my good man."
Nicholas groveled and touched his forelock. "Surely, Yer Honor. God bless your lordship. Long life to Your Grace...."
"Enough!" declared the duke, but he was clearly struggling to keep a straight face. "Be on your way." His gaze wandered over them again, pausing appreciatively on Blanche and even more so on Beth. Quite clearly, he winked. "After all," he said to the disapproving Lord Liverpool, "on such a night as this, are not all the people of England one big happy family?"
"This rabble is no family of mine," said the earl haughtily. "I doubt they are even voters."
"Don't be so harsh. Who knows how even a small change in fortune could transform them." He addressed the group once more. "Can I not depend upon it that you will improve yourselves rapidly, my good people?"
They all chorused their agreement.
"I do not think it beyond possibility, Liverpool, that one day soon these promising fellows could aspire even to a house in Grosvenor Square."
"You're mad!" said Liverpool. "Come along, Belcraven. The horses are standing."
With a smile, the duke followed.
Beth called after him. "No reason a lady can't aspire to live in Grosvenor Square too, Yer Honor!"
He turned back, laughing. "No reason at all. But you're a saucy piece, aren't you?"
Beth cocked her hip and ogled him. "I'm the apple of me father's eye."
"I don't doubt it," the duke said, and his glance encompassed both Beth and Lucien. "I don't doubt it at all."
Liverpool's carriage rolled away, and they all, including Hal and Francis made haste to Upper Brook Street, where an agitated Tom Holloway was waiting with a carriage. There were two. Eleanor waved out of the second.
Nicholas, Lucien, Beth, and Robin scrambled into Eleanor's hackney while Hal, Miles, Francis, and Blanche piled into the one driven by Tom Holloway. A glance back at Deveril's house showed it quiet and dark. The guards had doubtless decided, no harm having been done except to Tom's head, not to cause a commotion.
"What are you doing here?" Nicholas asked Eleanor as he drew her into his arms.
"I didn't want to miss all the fun. Did you carry it off?"
"Only just. We had to be rescued by this gallant fellow," he said, ruffling Robin's hair. He passed over the dollar. "I think you earned this."
"Thank you, sir!"
"But," said Lucien, "you are not going on the Town to spend it tonight. Promising young men need their sleep."
Robin glowered slightly but muttered, "All right."
"Think, Robin," said Lucien gently. "A change is a change. You're not the same boy. If you came up with any of your old friends now, they'd roll you naked and sell every scrap you owned."
"Reckon you're right, milord," said the boy, much struck. He gave a little sniff. "It's hard, givin' up what a person's used to."
Beth leaned over and put her hand over his. "It is hard, Robin. But life is change, if you want to make anything of it." She smiled at Lucien. "And it is definitely worth it in the end."
Nicholas smiled at his wife. "And here I've been persuaded to settle down."
Eleanor surveyed his rough appearance. "You call this settling down?"
"Tamest of the tame. But we have finished our business and, praise be, can return to Somerset."
They had arrived at Tom Holloway's and went quickly in. When Beth went to change, however, Lucien said, "You could just put your spencer over that dress, since we are going to have to smuggle you into the house anyway."
Beth looked down. She had long since forgotten to be conscious of her exposed state. "I could," she agreed.
Lucien counted out ten guineas and proffered them. Face burning, Beth grinned, took the coins and dropped them down her bodice. She grinned at Nicholas and Eleanor. "I reckon I got to ensure me independence one way or another, eh?"
Lucien bundled up his good clothing and they slipped away, passing Blanche and Hal on the stairs.
"Get the money up front, luv!" called Blanche. Beth giggled. "Oh, I've certainly 'done that!"
* * *
Later, limp and content in Lucien's arms, Beth said, "Can we go back to Hartwell?"
"Yes," said Lucien. "After you've been presented." He caught the protest on her lips with his own. "I've let you play the whore, Beth, and I haven't even asked what Tom did to cause you to wrap a skillet round his head. Now it's time for you to play the marchioness."
Beth snuggled closer to his warm, hard body. "I don't think there's much difference between the two."
"I'll go odds the queen wouldn't agree. You could always borrow Blanche's dress for court and see."
Beth chuckled. "Do they throw the highest aristocracy out for lewd behavior?"
"I'm not at all sure."
Beth ran her hand along the fine contours of his arm. "What's the duke going to say?"
"Nothing, I suspect. You know, I've never seen him laugh like that. He's changed. It's as if we've all changed since you've came among us, Beth."
"For the better?" asked Beth.
"Indubitably. You've been like warm sun on frozen ground. My mother sings, my father laughs. And I... I delight in the wit and the strength and the spirit of my friend for life. More men should be as fortunate as I."
"Clever men," said Beth softly, "always will be. And clever women will appreciate a clever man when they meet one".
The End
Want more from Jo Beverley?
Page forward for a special Author's Note
followed by an excerpt from
CHRISTMAS ANGEL
The Company of Rogues Series
Book Three