Epilogue
They couldn’t quite manage the next day, but Hecate held firm. Simon would marry them before they left for Doireann Vale, or else.
Faced with her implacable resolution, and the fact that she was of age, Simon sighed, looked at his wife with resignation, and agreed to waive the banns.
“But you understand that this might easily be challenged, don’t you?” He stood in front of both of them in the parlour at Ridlington Chase. “Just because I’m saying the words over you in the church, doesn’t necessarily put the entire matter onto solid footing.” He frowned. “I suppose I could sort of smear the bit about the banns on the parish records…or add them to earlier postings…”
“Good lad. I knew you’d think of something,” beamed Finn. “What time tomorrow?”
Tabby had to laugh. “You’re incorrigible, Finn. But the perfect man for our Hecate, I’m thinking.”
“And I’m thinking you’ve a brilliant wife, Vicar. Well done.” Finn chuckled.
Hecate swallowed. “I’m getting married. Tomorrow.”
“You are indeed,” said Edmund, coming in just in time to overhear her words. “And for more good news, Max and Kitty are here. Not only that, but they’ve brought the baby too.” He grinned. “Our family grows apace, it seems.”
“How lovely,” laughed Hecate. “Now all we’d need is Richard and Cressida, but I wouldn’t ask that of them at this particular time.”
“In lieu of those two, it turns out that Sir Peregrine Hawkesbury and Max’s sister Grace are on their way as well. Kitty didn’t want them spending Christmas alone.” Edmund tilted his head to one side. “I rather think we have a full house.”
“Oh that’s wonderful.” Hecate turned to Finn. “So we won’t be marrying in front of a completely empty church after all.”
“And I was so concerned about that,” he teased.
“Edmund,” said Hecate. “You will walk me down the aisle, won’t you?”
He paused, obviously caught by surprise. “Oh sweet girl. Of course I will. I would be so proud to give you away.”
“Thank you.” Hecate rose and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek.
“So it’s all settled,” said Simon. “Tomorrow. Let’s say ten o’clock?”
“I’ll make sure we’re ready on our end,” added Tabby.
“Then ten o’clock it is.” Hecate smiled at Finn and took his hand.
*~~*~~*
So once again St. Simon’s church was the site of a Ridlington wedding as Miss Hecate Ridlington was given in marriage by her brother, the Baron, to Mr. Finn Casey.
Observing the proceedings was a good portion of the rest of the Ridlington family, along with those villagers who had scented something going on with the gentry living at the Chase. Many nearby residents had developed a nose for that sort of thing.
After giving his sister’s hand to Finn, Edmund took his seat next to Rosaline. Hugh had been allowed to join them under threat of severe and awful things if he didn’t behave himself.
Like the splendid future Baron he would become, the little boy merely swung his feet, and watched as the ladies tried not to cry.
Miss Helen Ridlington, the vicar’s daughter, was not quite at that stage yet, and her Mama and Papa had elected to leave her in Nanny’s capable hands. Those hands were also administering to Miss Margaret Seton-Mowbray. Nanny was enjoying the day every bit as much as the bride and groom, even though she was in the Ridlington nursery, not St. Simon’s.
None of the assembled congregation knew that at that precise moment, Mrs. Cressida Ridlington, ably assisted by the Branscombe Magna midwife Mrs. Polly Smith, Mrs. Parsnip Worsnop, and Mr. Richard Ridlington—much to the midwife’s disapproval—was giving birth to her children, a boy and a girl. Both were healthy and possessed of impressive lungs, as they demonstrated immediately upon their arrival.
Cressida smiled and held her babies. Richard beamed and gulped down a huge glass of brandy while privately wondering if he’d been scarred for life. The news of the arrival of Joanna and Gerrard Ridlington made its way to Ridlington Chase, but not quite in time to enhance the wedding breakfast.
Toward the end of the event, Edmund stood and raised his champagne glass, as the others fell silent. “I’d like to propose a toast, if I may. And though we are here to celebrate Hecate and Finn’s marriage, I think it would be appropriate for me to broaden my wishes to include all of you, including Richard and Cressy, although they’re not here in person.”
He paused and smiled. “I see so many happy faces. And yet it wasn’t that long ago that there was barely a smile in this house. I am moved by the warmth and affection I feel here, and I’m overwhelmed that we have truly become a family. I’m not sure how it happened, but I do believe that those we love, who now share our lives, have contributed mightily.”
He glanced at Rosaline, sitting at the other end of the table. “I know I couldn’t have done much of anything without my wife.”
She blushed, but remained silent.
“So I’m going to assume that you, my brothers and sisters, have found strength and joy in those you have chosen to love, as well. The end result is that we are now, truly, a family.” He raised his glass high.
“I give you the six pearls of Baron Ridlington. And the joy of knowing so many more pearls will fill the years ahead.”
“The Six Pearls.”
THE END
A footnote from Sahara Kelly
So we bid farewell to the Ridlingtons and their assorted families, secure in the knowledge they are now happy, loved…and actually, quite fertile. There are bound to be more children, for that is how families build traditions, fortunes and dynasties.
And of course, we know that Dal and Augusta are heading in a certain direction. There’s even a strong possibility that come Christmas, we might find out whether Sir Peregrine’s life will veer down a new path.
One never knows.
This is a bittersweet time for your author, having to bid farewell to a series written about people with whom I have developed a very strong attachment. But I believe most strongly that series books can overstay their welcome, and I won’t let this happen to any of the novels I write.
These six books were a labour of love, but the operative word there is labour. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that writing a series is easy—it’s not. In this case, I found myself blessed with wonderful characters, but six was enough. Any more than that, and I worried that the stories might become repetitive, derivative or just flat-out boring.
So it’s on to new projects, new heroes and heroines, new looks at the Regency and the people who made it what I consider one of the most engaging periods in history. I’ve touched on Waterloo, on the emergence of women writers, on smuggling, scandals and even ghosts, all while in the company of a Ridlington or two.
But so much more was happening in the first two decades of the 1800s. So now it’s time to leave the Ridlingtons, and allow this particular family to go on with their lives.
There are plenty more stories to be told, so watch for new Regency romances coming soon.
*~~*~~*
In case you may have missed any of the first four novels in this series, and would like to catch up/find out how this family’s adventures began, here are excerpts from Edmund’s story, Simon’s adventures with Tabitha, the start of Letitia’s literary career and a peek at Kitty in London.
Links to all these books, available at Amazon.com, can be found in the bibliography, as well as at the end of each excerpt. (If you are a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, you may read these books—and most of Sahara Kelly’s other novels—for free.)
THE LANDLOCKED BARON
Book 1 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Series
“I do beg your pardon.”
Everyone’s head turned. The slender blonde stepped forward. “Oh please don’t. We should be thanking you for your care of our brother.” She put down her glass and came forward. “I’m Letitia Ridlington.”
“Miss Ridlington.” The woman curtseyed. “I’m happy to say that your brother is doing well. He has a headache, which is to be expected. But he sustained no other injury than a nasty knock on the head and the doctor expects him to make a full recovery.”
“You managed to reach Dr. Fisher, then?” Simon inquired.
“I did, sir. He had planned to attend the funeral, but said a local woman was in the throes of childbirth. The arrival delayed him, and he could only stay for a few moments, before hurrying back to the mother and babe.”
“One life ends and another begins.” Hecate sipped her champagne. “I’m Hecate. The last Ridlington. I don’t believe we’ve met?”
“Forgive me.” The woman paused. “I should introduce myself. I am Rosaline Henry, currently employed as companion to Lady Fincham.”
“We owe you an enormous debt of gratitude, Miss Henry,” said Kitty. “You handled all the confusion so well and with such an air of command. Everyone obeyed you without question and what could have been a terrible disaster was utterly averted. I was astounded.”
Rosaline felt the colour rise in her cheeks, but kept her voice level. “You are too kind.” She stepped a little further into the room. “To be accurate, I am Mrs. Henry. My husband passed away last year which circumstance forced me into the position I have now with Lady Fincham.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Hecate moved to her side and touched her arm in sympathy.
“Thank you. But we must move on with our lives.” It was a practical and appropriate response, but Rosaline was moved, all the same.
“Our brother is doing well, you said, Mrs. Henry. That is good news indeed. Do you have medical skills?” Simon beckoned her to a chair and seated her, his voice kind.
“Not as such, sir. But I nursed my husband for several years. He sustained an injury during his service with Lord Nelson and our brave fleet. It left him unable to assume his duties, and quite unwell. It was that which claimed him after an extended period of pain. A sad time.”
“One learns a lot from such an experience, Ma’am.” Simon’s eyes were gentle. “Your fortitude is to be commended.”
“I appreciate your words, Vicar.” She dipped her head. “I believe you have the Ridlington living? You minister to its flock?”
Simon nodded. “I do. And it is quite gratifying work. Although,” he paused, his hand to his chin, “I can’t say that I recall seeing the Finchams in church of a Sunday…”
Noting his quiet grin, Rosaline smiled. “I’m afraid the Finchams aren’t of a religious turn, sir. I had suggested we attend services, but was overruled.”
“I hear that being overruled goes hand in hand with anything to do with Lady Fincham.” A younger man spoke, his voice full of laughter. “I’m Richard Ridlington, Mrs. Henry. And this is my twin, Kitty.” He waved his hand at his sister. “Now you’ve met us all. Not on the happiest of occasions…” he lifted his champagne glass, “but we are, in fact, celebrating our continued existence. And now, thanks to you, we can also celebrate our oldest brother’s recovery from what could have been a fatal injury.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Henry. We are truly in your debt.”
Rosaline found a glass of champagne in her hand, placed there by Letitia Ridlington.
“Please join us? To life and living and new opportunities…” She raised her glass as everyone echoed her sentiments.
Rosaline joined them, somewhat amazed at the concentration of diverse but equally powerful personalities all in one room. And all in one family.
The Ridlingtons were certainly a force to be reckoned with. She wondered if Edmund, the eldest brother and now the Baron, was equally dynamic. He would have to be if he was going to take this lot in hand.
St. SIMON’S SIN
Book 2 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Series
Simon became aware of the silence as the last of the carriages rolled away. The birds still sang, the ocean still provided a background of soft wave sounds, and the breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees and on the hedges that bordered either side of the lane.
“We should walk,” she said.
“Indeed.” Politely, he offered her his arm.
“I’m not decrepit, you know.” She lifted an eyebrow at his gesture.
“I wasn’t implying anything of the sort and you know it.” He sighed. “I was merely offering an arm. Must we always come to daggers drawn?”
She lifted her chin. “No. And I apologize. That was my fault.” She took his arm.
“Apology accepted.”
They began to follow the lane, strolling easily between the laurels and the wildflowers walling them in to their own private walk.
“You didn’t stay that day for the Spring Fair,” said Simon. “You arrived, said hullo, and that was the last I saw of you, even when we heard the sad news.”
“I know.” She nodded, her gaze fixed on the way ahead. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to re-establish my acquaintance with the people I used to know here. I certainly didn’t want their sympathy. Too much like pity for my comfort.”
“But they’re people you grew up with, Tabby. They’re not strangers.”
“To you? No they’re not. But to me…” she paused as if looking for the right words. “To me, they represent my past. Something that is gone and can never be recaptured.”
Simon took his own time answering. “It must have been difficult when your papa passed away. My condolences on his death. I never had chance to express them. You were gone before the news came to Ridlington.” He lifted his hand and placed it over hers where it lay on his forearm.
“Then you know Papa died in London.” Her tone was calm. “He was there under his physician’s care. There was nothing anyone could do. I should have been there, I suppose, but I took a chance on coming down here. Of course, that was when he passed away.” She sighed. “The way of the world. Always doing the worst possible thing at the worst possible time.”
“So you vanished again, leaving us wondering if you had received a summons from some high ranking Government agency.”
He smiled as he gently referred to her previous adventures in Europe. Her task as an intelligence-gatherer, or as his sisters liked to refer to it—a spy—had intrigued them all last autumn.
She chuckled. “No. I’m hoping that phase of my life is over. I am retired from anything to do with the Government—of any nation.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Simon heaved an inner sigh of relief. “What are you going to do with the rest of your time, Lady Ellsmere?”
“The title is nominal, at best.” She sounded wry. “I can order an evening gown and have it delivered the next day. But I don’t have a residence to receive it.” A slight snort followed. “Stupid, isn’t it?”
Simon snugged her arm in a little closer to his body. “I know Worsley Hall has gone to some relative…a distant cousin?”
She nodded. “A man I had never heard of, let alone met. My home. Gone just like that with Papa’s death.”
“And that’s why you’re here now? To conclude those matters?”
“Mostly, yes.”
They walked on in silence for a little while, Simon as busy with his thoughts as he imagined her to be with hers.
“What shall you do, Tabby?” He brought them to a halt and looked down at her. “Worsley is no longer yours. You are a widow, and apparently there’s no home for you with the Ellsmeres.”
She stared ahead, but he saw her throat move as she swallowed.
“Can I help? Can the Ridlingtons do anything? I know Edmund and Rosaline would…”
“No, stop.” She turned and disengaged her arm from his. “I have a mission already, Simon.”
“I thought you said no more Government business for you.”
“Not that kind of mission.” She blew a breath out from between her lips. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’ll just come right out with it.”
“Very well.” He wondered at her tone. Her face was expressionless, quietly attractive in repose and giving nothing away.
“I have been asked by the Diocese to review and assess the finances of St. Simon’s church.”
WORD OF A LADY
Book 3 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Series
He was a little younger than she’d anticipated. Perhaps in his early forties, which was no great age, but given that he was the name behind a prestigious London publishing company, she’d been prepared for someone with more of an elderly appearance.
“Miss Smith?” He rose as she entered the parlour.
“Indeed.” She dropped him a polite curtsey. “Thank you for the honour you do us, Mr. Lesley. Coming all this way from London is very much appreciated, and quite a surprise.”
They sat, he in a large chair by the fireplace, she in a smaller one next to the well-worn sofa.
“After reading your…er…friend’s manuscript, I felt it incumbent upon me to visit in person. And to be honest, I have an acquaintance in the area, so it was a case of killing two birds with one happy stone.” He crossed his legs. “I suppose there is no chance of my meeting with Lady Corinth in person?”
“No sir, I’m afraid not.” Letitia kept her expression calm and her words simple. She was masquerading as the author’s friend and intended Mr. Lesley to completely accept her role. “Given the nature of the manuscript, I’m sure you can understand her desire to remain anonymous.”
“Indeed.” Lesley nodded. “Cytherean Tales has the potential to be a very popular volume, Miss Smith.”
Letitia’s heart jumped. “It does?”
“Yes.” He tapped his leather case which lay on the table next to him. “It is quite remarkable in its characterization and the heroines’ voices are strong and will easily attract and hold a reader’s attention.”
“Well,” Letitia cleared her throat. “I can assure you she will be very happy to hear that. Very happy indeed.”
“You realize however, that this is a very controversial volume?”
“I do.”
“You have read it yourself?” He raised an eyebrow. “I will admit to some surprise that a lady of your tender years has risked exposing herself to the material contained in this book.”
Letitia’s chin rose. “I believe Lady Corinth wrote much of the book with women in mind, Mr. Lesley.” She caught herself up. “At least that’s what she told me, several times, during its creation.”
“You astound me.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure that we will be able to market it as suitable for ladies.”
Unwilling to argue at this point, Letitia let that issue lie. “Do I take it then, that you are considering accepting Lady Corinth’s work, sir?”
“Indeed yes. I will be very happy to offer a publication contract to Lady Corinth. On most generous terms, I might add.”
Since she couldn’t stand up, shout, dance, whoop or do any of the things she would like to have done, she just smiled.
“There is one proviso…” He reached for his bag and withdrew the manuscript.
Her heart dropped to her boots. Here it comes. Nothing is ever that simple.
“I have made a copy and taken the liberty of marking up some areas that need greater clarification. I’ve also had a copy made of the document with the suggestions. It never hurts to have an extra manuscript for safety.”
“Would not an editor be the one to make those suggestions, sir? I believe I’ve heard that that’s how these matters are handled?”
“We do have editors with whom we consult; several are well-respected in their fields. However, given this particular volume and the nature of the content, I felt it better to retain it in our own offices. I’m sure you can appreciate my point of view.”
She watched him. He was not embarrassed, just cautious.
“Therefore I have done what might be called a preliminary read, and made some editing suggestions. If Lady Corinth would be good enough to look them over, and perhaps attend to them, then we would be delighted to offer one of our highest tier contracts.”
He withdrew a document from his case and passed it to Letitia.
Her vision blurred for a few moments as she read the terms. The advance alone would be enough to fix a lot of the rotting floors at Ridlington Chase. And the consequent profits from sales and second and third editions? Her mind scrambled to grasp the significance of the numbers.
After a few minutes, she laid the document beside her on the couch. “You must be confident of success, Mr. Lesley, to offer such generous amounts. You’ve said yourself that this is controversial material. Are you that sure it will sell? Is there a market for works of such a nature?”
“I can understand your questions, Miss Smith. And since they must emanate from Lady Corinth herself…” He glanced at her with a questioning look.
“Yes, they do.”
“Then you may reassure her that yes, there is indeed a very active interest in such books. I think it fair to describe this as erotic, if you’ll forgive my blunt words. And such volumes have achieved very healthy sales numbers, while not necessarily finding their way into the most popularly visited sections of bookshops or libraries.”
“Ah,” exclaimed Letitia. “I see what you mean.” You’re going to make a fortune selling my book under the counter.
THE MISTRESS WAGER
Book 4 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Series
The evening was shaping up to be one of unalloyed boredom for one or two of the guests, Mr. Max Seton-Mowbray among them. The star pianist, a Señor Marcovicci Bonatello, was…uninspired. Max decided that was the word that best described his performance.
Technically brilliant, every note perfect, but lacking anything lifting it beyond the ordinary. His sister’s abilities with this particular movement from one of Beethoven’s early sonatas left Señor Bonatello’s far behind. He sighed silently as his mind drifted to Grace.
She possessed a rare gift for music, seeming to be able to anticipate the next measure and play the current one accordingly. She painted images with notes as far as he was concerned; her performances always conjured up visions of one kind or another.
And yet few had ever heard her play.
It was becoming clear Grace needed to liberate herself from her self-imposed confinement, but damned if Max knew the right words or the right circumstances to provide her with the key.
A slight clearing of the throat to his right attracted his thoughts away from family matters and he turned his head slightly to see Miss Kitty Ridlington suppress a wince as she stretched her spine a little in a movement just short of a fidget.
He sympathized. These chairs were bloody uncomfortable for a lengthy piece of music. He doubted that situation would change even if the great Johann Cramer himself were sitting at the piano playing the same piece.
Finally, his patience was rewarded by the final bars of the sonata, and Max found himself rising and applauding along with the other fifty or so people in the room. Most of whom, like him, were probably welcoming the chance to stand and stretch, rather than expressing enthusiasm for the performance.
The murmur of conversation grew as the audience began the tedious process of filing out of the ballroom and into the reception hall where food and beverages would be served. With his customary adroitness, Max easily found himself beside his prey.
“Good evening, Miss Ridlington.” He glanced around. “And Miss Hecate? I believe I saw her earlier…”
Kitty dropped a slight curtsey. “Good evening, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. Yes, my sister is speaking with friends, I believe.” She looked off to her right. “Just over there.”
“Ah yes.” He noted the group was absent one Dancey Miller-James, and heaved a sigh of relief. “In that case, I declare my intention of seizing this opportunity to offer my arm as support and guidance through the starving throng.” He raised his bent arm, holding it out to her, his expression daring her to accept.
“How eloquent, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. And yet a simple may I escort you would have worked just as well.” She shot him a somewhat scornful glance. “I’m hungry too.”
“Good.” He merely grinned as she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve and allowed him to steer them to a couple of empty chairs. “Wait here, don’t let anyone take that seat, and I’ll fetch us a couple of plates.”
“Don’t forget the lobster patties,” she said as he turned to leave. “I adore them. Miss those and I will never speak to you again.”
“A terrible threat.” He chuckled. “Lobster patties it is.”
Adroitly balancing two plates, he returned minutes later, pleased to observe that Miss Ridlington had indeed managed to defend their seats from other guests.
“Your refreshments, Ma’am.” He bowed, gave her a plate and then took his own seat. “You will note the preponderance of lobster patties.”
She was surveying the mountain of little pastries with approval. “You certainly took me at my word, sir.”
He munched appreciatively for a moment. “The thought of being cut from your list of acquaintances struck terror into my soul. By the way,” he munched again. “You’re right about them. They are quite delicious.”
Both ate appreciatively, the silence between them oddly comfortable as they watched the ebb and flow of people in the room.
Then Kitty swallowed, and spoke. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” He turned his head and looked at her.
“Being quite unlike yourself.”
He blinked. “In what way?”
She barely restrained a snort. “Mr. Seton-Mowbray. We have crossed paths now more times than I can recall, at a variety of events, over what has to be close to a year or so. In all that time, in all those encounters, you have never revealed any desire to be charming or attentive. In fact, you have mostly appeared to be uninterested, often intimidating, and seldom conversational.” She considered the contents of her plate and carefully selected another treat. “And yet this evening, here you are, waiting on me, fetching me lobster patties, and generally acting in a most unexpected way.” She popped the confection into her mouth and murmured in delight for a moment. “I should add that I am not complaining.” She licked her lips. “But it is quite out of the ordinary.”
Max had a difficult time pushing aside the results of watching her tongue leave a sheen on those full lips. “Really.”
“Yes. Really.” She set her plate aside with a sigh. “So I shall repeat myself. Why are you doing this?”
“Because it gives me pleasure?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m sure there are many things that give you pleasure. But you had ample chance to explore this particular behaviour before now, and you didn’t. So no, I won’t accept that reason.”
He shrugged. “You have found me out, Miss Ridlington.” He too set his plate on the small table behind them. “I have something of import to discuss with you.”
“Better,” she nodded.
He narrowed his eyes. “That is the truth, you know. It is important. And I’m not sure how to begin the conversation.”
“Well, when you decide, do let me know?” She sighed. “I can’t say I’m averse to missing the second part of the evening’s entertainment. Señor Bonatello must be having an off night.”
Blackmail and the Bride
Book 5 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Series
The Earl of Perrenporth looked exactly as one might imagine; perfectly groomed silver hair, an elegant air, and creases on his face that spoke of many happy years.
Beneath his august and charming exterior was a mind sharper than any sword, and a determination that would have made a bulldog look like a newborn lamb.
Richard had learned rapidly never to underestimate the Earl, no matter how casual their conversations. So he entered the Earl’s study with the usual amount of trepidation.
“Ah, good. Ridlington. Just the man I wanted to see.” The Earl rose with a smile.
Richard bowed. “I have a delivery for you, my Lord.” He withdrew the envelope he’d received earlier and passed it across the desk.
“Excellent, excellent.” The Earl sat returned to his seat, reached for a small sharp dagger, and neatly slit his way past the seal. Opening the letter, he read for a few moments, nodded, and refolded the paper. “Just the news I’d hoped for. Thank you, Mr. Ridlington. You have done a great service this afternoon.”
“I am honoured, sir.” Richard took a small relieved breath. “There were no problems or observers as near as I could tell. It’s getting rather chaotic out there now, so I doubt I was remarked in any way.” He glanced from the window, noting that even here, tucked away from the main thoroughfares, there was a muted rumble making its way through the air.
“Evacuees?” The Earl glanced at him.
“I’m not sure. Mostly military at the moment. Mounted, on foot, in wagons…you can barely cross the street for them.”
“The forces are indeed gathering, I’m afraid.”
Richard nodded. “It’s going to be a big one, isn’t it?”
The Earl looked out his window, silent for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “That’s up to others to decide, lad.”
“Of course, sir. If that’s all…?” Richard prepared to take his leave.
“No, as a matter of fact it’s not. I’d like to speak with you on another matter, if you have the time to spare?”
“Of course,” answered Richard with alacrity. “I’m at your disposal, my Lord.”
“Funny you should say that.” The Earl chuckled, rose and crossed the room to the small table in the corner. “Join me in a brandy? I’ve worked hard and you’ve been out in the chaos. I think we both deserve a few moments respite.”
“Thank you, sir. Indeed, that would be most welcome.”
The Earl poured the liquor generously into two glasses and motioned at the chairs arranged comfortably on this side of his study. “Sit.”
Richard sat, wondering what the Earl wanted to talk to him about.
The other man also took a seat, crossed his legs, and regarded Richard over the glass as he sipped. “I hear you’re having a spot of bother with Angleford.”
Richard, caught mid-swallow, coughed as the brandy caught in his throat. “Er, yes, you might say that,” he rasped.
“To the tune of five thousand guineas, if I heard correctly?”
Growing increasingly unsettled, Richard nodded. “You are well informed, sir. Yes. The gentleman with whom I had expected to complete some business was killed and all our money vanished. I find myself unable to meet Angleford’s terms at the present time.”
There was no point in prevaricating, since it was most likely that Perrenporth already knew every single detail and sum of money, down to the last sixpence.
“Was it a foolish endeavour?”
Richard straightened. “No, sir, it was not. We purchased a boat, found a reliable crew, and have managed to assist more than a few families in their attempts to leave Europe and return home. As you are well aware, transportation is a challenge right now, what with the military requisitioning most everything that moves, and prices for passage anywhere out of Brussels soaring to absurd heights. We kept our prices to no more than what was required to cover our costs, and thus we were able to carry more passengers than we’d anticipated, and all was accomplished with the utmost discretion. We did make a profit, in the neighbourhood of ten percent for our investors and ten percent for us. It was not a scheme designed to gauge the desperate…”
“Easy, lad. I never implied that it was.”
Richard subsided. “Good,” he muttered.
“However, Farley was a poor choice of partner,” observed the Earl in a moderate tone.
“I know that now,” growled Richard.
There was silence for a few moments as both men took another drink.
“Why not go to the family? You have more than enough money there, I should think, between direct family and new in-laws.”
Richard shot the Earl a look. “Would you?”
The Earl met that look with one of his own. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Forgive the question, but I needed to see if you were the man of honour I believe you to be.”
“Well then.” Richard drained his glass. “If there’s nothing else, my Lord, I should be on my way…”
“A moment, if you please.” Perrenporth stayed him with a slight gesture of his hand. “Suppose there is a way for you to settle with Angleford, that doesn’t involve you asking for help from your family.”
Richard’s eyes widened. “If it doesn’t involve anything illegal, then I’d be glad to entertain any suggestions, my Lord.”
“Good.” The Earl’s grin was innocence personified. “I have a proposition for you.”