Chapter 7
Could a person die of grief? Of course not. As the days passed, Andrew first resigned himself to his loveless fate and then allowed anger to consume him, driving him through a few cases that had plagued him lately. In court, acting for a man claiming his brother had stolen property from him, he was nothing short of a firebrand, according to the judge.
His performance did his reputation no harm at all, and he found himself talked about. Visitors to his chambers increased, and his clerk was kept busy annotating new cases. At this rate they would have to take on more assistants.
That suited Andrew. Keeping himself busy worked well. Then he did not have to think about anything else.
The Lord Darius Shaw, for example.
His daughter recovered quickly and soon became her lively self again. However occupied he became, Andrew always spared several hours a day for her. When she had been smaller, he would settle her in his study downstairs while he worked through the night on tedious cases that brought in money. His love for Elizabeth constantly astonished him. He had not expected that to happen, but the moment he’d held her and gazed into her eyes, she’d ensnared him completely. He’d willingly die for her. She unwittingly formed another barrier to any thoughts of Darius and what he had taught Andrew.
More than he knew. The tepid “I care for you” had unlocked a barrier he had put across his heart after he’d left Oxford. Now he did not seem to be able to turn the key and lock it up again.
His clerk tapped on the door and handed Andrew a letter. “Something for you, sir. It doesn’t look like business. Hand delivered by a liveried footman.” That in itself was unusual. Whether it was the publicity of the court case involving The Lord Valentinian Shaw, or something else, more aristocrats were seeking him out.
Most of the cases were trivial affairs, concerning little work, but Andrew knew his customers. They were testing him. He could find himself with a comfortable business. Many lawyers acted as land stewards, working on several estates or one huge one. While he had no interest in becoming any man’s servant, accepting the management of several could lead to a comfortable living. He would not have to look from case to case any longer, but could depend on a steady income.
That was what he had always worked toward. But a nagging concern remained at the back of his mind. Was Darius responsible for any of this new business?
He broke the seal and opened the letter. Flowing black script on heavy cream paper revealed an invitation for a large ball to be held the next day. It would not be a matchmaking ball. It was the wrong time of year for that. Young ladies and their chaperones flooded into town in the spring to indulge themselves in the social round before dutifully taking a husband. This time, the back end of the year, had a more political flavor.
Miss Angela Childers requested his presence at her ball.
Well, that was something.
Andrew returned to his chair and rang for coffee while he scrawled a reply. Of course he would attend. Perhaps Miss Childers had business for him. At least Darius wasn’t responsible for this stroke of luck.
* * * *
Outside Miss Childers’s imposing London mansion set on one of London’s most fashionable squares in Mayfair, Andrew paused and tweaked his snowy-white neckcloth. He had broken out his best clothes for the occasion—the mulberry figured velvet coat and the ivory waistcoat embroidered by experts from Spitalfields. Wisely aware that he could not compare with the great and the good but could present a respectable figure, he had not attempted any fancy detailing. Plain silver buckles adorned his shoes and his knees, and while his linen and lace were good, Andrew didn’t sport double or triple flounces.
Curious as to what Miss Childers wanted, he stepped forward and presented his invitation. Others had swanned through without the footman halting them, but Andrew was not a noted figure in society. He had assumed this would be one of Miss Childers’ City balls, but it seemed not.
Angela Childers was one of those strange beings, someone who straddled City and County, having valid claims to belong to both. Her mother had been the daughter of a duke, her father a noted banker, worth more than all the dukes in the world, or so he had claimed in his lifetime.
Miss Childers had inherited the fortunes of both her parents. The wealthiest woman in Britain, to be sure, and possibly the world. She had declared she would never marry, and so far she had stuck to that resolve. Not the most romantic duke, nor the hardest striker of bargains in the City had snared her. Now, approaching the age of thirty, she was fond of declaring herself well and truly on the shelf.
Truthfully, a woman of fifty with her fortune would not be considered unmarriageable. However, Miss Childers was an exception to almost everything.
Andrew understood her predicament. She had more to consider than her own pleasure. Hundreds of employees depended on her for their living. As a single woman, she had no concern about inheritance. She could will her fortune to whomever she pleased.
Andrew liked her, although he did not know her well. Only from City dinners and suchlike, where they had exchanged a few words and found themselves in accord about many matters, including her determination not to marry.
Andrew was grateful she had remembered him. He could no doubt meet some potentially useful people tonight. He spared a thought for his daughter. She would be sleeping peacefully by now, and he had not had his usual pleasure of looking in on her.
He disliked stepping outside the circles he had made his own, where he felt comfortable. His uncles’ drapery business, his own legal concerns—there he was happy, but coming here made him uncomfortable and out of place. As he was.
Aristocrats passed by him, noses in the air, talking loudly to each other about the Park, the last ball, and fashion. Nobody took any notice of him, which, he supposed, was a blessing. He would find Miss Childers, thank her for inviting him, and leave. He did not belong here.
The footman standing at the door examined Andrew’s invitation carefully, as if he, too, doubted its veracity. However, he let him through and directed him to another man who would take his hat and gloves.
Inside, the spacious hall blazed with light, as did the other rooms in the house. Andrew tried not to gaze around like a gawping child faced with the grown-up world for the first time, but he found it difficult. Everywhere he looked there was something worth seeing, from exquisite paintings to delicate pieces of porcelain, all carefully arranged. Andrew found the effect delightful.
A woman he vaguely recognized as the countess of somewhere or other passed by, speaking to the mousy woman walking a few inches behind her. “Of course it’s vulgar. What else can it be? She’s from Trade. Her poor mother, forced to marry so far below her!”
Since, presumably, Miss Childers’s father belonged to the City. The countess should take care what she said. If Andrew were of a more vindictive disposition, he might drop the word at the next Guild dinner of how much the lady despised Cits. They might already know. Her comments on their hostess were the only vulgar things in this hall that Andrew could discern. Perhaps he, too, was blessed with inferior taste. Perhaps his vulgarity prevented him seeing true beauty.
He didn’t care. Instead, he climbed the stairs in the wake of the more exalted guests, intending to search for his hostess. He was even more determined to leave quickly. He spotted people he knew, but nobody he felt entitled to stop and talk to, although some nodded to him. No doubt they would talk if he stopped. A few glanced at him curiously. Everyone chattered, fans fluttering, their cultured voices vying with the attempts of the quartet in the corner to provide sweet background music.
The packed throng proved the ball a success, a sad squeeze, even though the rooms opened for the ball were more spacious than Andrew was used to.
Halfway across, someone murmured his name, and when he turned, said, “Pardon me, are you not the man who appeared so brilliantly at Bow Street to defend Lord Valentinian Shaw?”
He stopped and modestly said he was. That led to another person speaking to him, and another, so that he took half an hour to reach the end of the room. At least he knew where to find Miss Childers.
The next room contained just as many people as the previous one. Andrew reluctantly began to enjoy himself, as word spread of his arrival and people stopped to talk to him. A few did not, for he had not been introduced to them, and some were sticklers for correct procedure. He did not try to impose himself on them. One example of that, and they would label him an upstart, or encroaching. Nobody could freeze a person where he stood like an aristocrat.
A few stared at him, either through quizzing glasses or directly, but he did not comment or appear to notice.
Would his presence there help him in any way? Perhaps if he wanted to pursue his career as a barrister and appear regularly at Bow Street. Very few people engaged barristers to act for them in such arenas. He did modestly mention that most of his work took place elsewhere, concerned with property management, but nobody seemed interested. They drifted away, so he did too and found his way into the music room.
Although a quartet of musicians stood in the large drawing room, presumably because dancing would take there sometime, the music room also contained a musical air. Someone was playing the harpsichord, though unlike at a musicale, the people here did not give it their complete attention. The person at the harpsichord must have been a professional.
At last Andrew spied his hostess. However, he was already wondering if he should stay a little longer. Perhaps, as Darius had mentioned to him once, attending an affair like this would be good for business.
However, he wasted no time crossing the room and presenting himself to her.
He bowed, and Miss Childers offered him her hand to kiss. He was careful not to allow his lips to actually touch her skin, and then straightened.
Miss Childers was smiling. “I am so glad to see you here tonight, Mr. Graham. You are very welcome.”
“You’re gracious to invite me.” Already he was wondering why. Especially since she had slipped a tightly folded piece of paper into his hand before she’d let it go. He kept it in his palm, covered by the lace at the end of his sleeves. He knew better than to slip it straight into his pocket, because people would notice.
“I heard of your performance at Bow Street, and I had to meet the gentleman who had created such a stir. But as you know I’m a single lady, so I added two hundred of my most intimate acquaintances to give countenance to the encounter.”
Andrew liked the twinkle in her eye that told him she was entirely serious. The citizens of London knew her statuesque figure and perfectly oval face and respected her for running her bank so well. She disdained putting the business in the hands of the trustees appointed to conduct business on her behalf, although her father had expected her to become a lady of leisure. After a few spurious attempts at overwhelming her with male strength and acumen, her colleagues gave up and accepted her. She had broken through their contempt with sheer persistence and a strong dose of intelligence and common sense.
“I was sure you had invited me on the wrong evening,” he said, taking the opportunity to slip the note into his pocket.
Several ladies standing nearby tittered, and a couple of fans covered a couple of mouths.
“Indeed no,” the lady explained smoothly. “I merely wished you to expand your circle of influence. You should spread your wings, sir.”
“Even if I have to mix my metaphors in the process.” As soon as he’d said the words he wished them unsaid. This woman was doing her best to help him. She did not deserve a riposte like that.
However, the gasp and laughter told him he’d done well. Even more when he saw the smile Miss Childers bestowed on him. “Well said, sir. I should take more care, especially when conversing with a man as sharp as you.” She offered him her hand. “I would appreciate your escort to the main ballroom, if you please. The dancing is about to start, and I imagine your minuet is meticulously correct.”
If she had targeted him precisely for her revenge, she could not have chosen more cleverly. He would have to admit his failing to her. She laid her hand on the back of his arm, the pressure pushing his limb into the correct attitude.
Leaning toward him as he walked her slowly to the main room, she said, “You have a few skills to learn, sir. Including, I imagine from the widening of your pupils, the steps of the minuet.”
Relief swept him so he nearly sagged. At the pressure of her hand, he said, “You are exceedingly good with your silent instructions, ma’am.”
“I’ve had to be.” Her tone was dry. “Mingling in two of the worlds of London has forced me to learn several skills most people have no need for.”
“Two of the worlds? How many more are there?”
“You know another as well as I do. Much better, I imagine.”
He frowned. “How so?”
“The trial last year. The criminal world.”
Shock made him stumble, but he apologized and continued, since people were glancing in their direction. If they stopped, they would find themselves in the center of another group. “You cannot wish to become involved in the criminal fraternity, surely, ma’am. If you do, I am not the man you need.”
“No indeed. Allow me to explain. But not here. If you can contain your impatience for half an hour, I would like to speak to you in private. I have given you the means. Half an hour, sir. In the meantime, you may escort me over there, to the portly gentleman in blue-and-gold. He is the Duke of Chandos, and he will lead me out in the dance. Despite his appearance, he is a graceful dancer, and besides, he is the most senior gentleman. I know my society rules even if you do not.”
“I do not,” he agreed gravely. “Not the detailed and complex nuances society demands.”
She laughed, but quietly, a skill in itself. Laughter usually took Andrew by surprise, and it showed on the occasions when amusement broadsided him. “I shall have to learn. Doubtless if you were required to do so, you would master the technique. Ah, your grace.”
Andrew stood back while the grandee greeted his hostess, marking the way he led her to the center of the room and bowed to her. The quartet struck up, and the floor cleared, except for the couples engaged in the first minuet.
Although she had told him to learn, Andrew decided to leave the lesson for another time. He had a note to read.
Twenty minutes later, having followed the instructions, Andrew found the small and charming sitting room two floors above. The walls were decorated with green silk, and portraits of Miss Childers’s parents hung there. Not in the gracious poses formal portraiture demanded, but arm in arm, walking their dog, a large collie. Another showed a couple admiring an estate, with a house in the distance.
The door clicked, and Andrew turned as he heard a familiar voice. “Miss Childers has taste, does she not?”
His heart pounded, and heat flushed his body. He turned, but slower, longing for everything to return to normal. He had bidden farewell to Darius. “Was this her idea?”
Darius strode forward, his hands in the pockets of his white breeches, tightening the front of the cloth. Andrew fought not to look and barely succeeded.
“What? This meeting? Yes. She murmured the instructions to me like a lover, but she knows my preferences. I suspected something else, but not this.”
For the first time, Andrew saw Darius’s eyes, the blue so concentrated, dazzling to the observer. Tiny signs of tension tightened his jaw and put lines around his mouth. “No, not this. Why has she done it? Why speak to us both? A warning?”
“Perhaps. In any case it’s unfounded, is it not? We have done nothing.” A pause. “Nearly nothing. Not as much as I would like.”
As Andrew opened his mouth to reply, Darius held up his hand.
“No, I will say no more on that. I’m trying to be good. I promised myself I would.” His gold-embroidered waistcoat glittered when he took a few deep breaths.
Andrew waited.
“In the meantime, we still have one matter to discuss. I have not yet traced our mutual friend.” He glanced meaningfully at the jib door. Who knew who was waiting behind that unobtrusive entrance?
Unwilling to allow uncertainty, Andrew crossed the room, brushing past Darius as if he didn’t care how close he got, and opened the door. Nobody stood behind it. He closed it again. “The candles are lit and the fire made up. Almost as if we were expected.”
“Indeed.”
“I have heard nothing either, although I have made inquiries.”
The outer door opened silently to admit their hostess. Both men swept into low bows.
Miss Childers nodded. “We do not need to stand on ceremony here. Please take a seat, gentlemen. If you wish for refreshment, the decanters are on the sideboard. It’s the good brandy and port, and I believe there’s claret too. I’ll take a brandy.”
Used to the lady’s more abrupt manner, Andrew relaxed. He felt more at home with this version of her. Strolling to the sideboard, he chose the brandy and poured liberal amounts into two of the tumblers. Turning, he received a curt nod from Darius and poured him one, too.
He took his time delivering the drinks, enough to regain his equilibrium and take a hefty sip of his own.
Miss Childers, in her elaborate ball gown and her huge side hoops, took up the whole of one sofa. Darius took a seat in one of the armchairs that faced it. He took the other and put his glass on the table by his side, pleased to note he didn’t tremble one bit.
“How may we serve you, madam?” he asked.
She raised a brow. Miss Childers’s hair was powdered tonight, but he knew the guinea-gold shade well. The powder made her appear washed out, her pale complexion fashionable but unflattering next to the dead-white of the hair powder. Her height and her generous figure did not appear to its best in a formal evening gown, though he had to admit the silk—painted with twisted vines, butterflies, and other assorted plants and lizards—was of the finest quality. The diamonds around her throat were probably real, though their size would hint at paste.
“It’s not you serving me. It’s how we can help each other.” She glanced at Darius. “I suspect, my lord, you will find this project interesting, so I will not ask for anything except your silence in this matter.”
Both men nodded.
The lady continued. “I have recently become aware that we have an interest in a mutual acquaintance.”
Andrew felt at home with this kind of dialogue. It sounded almost the same as the formal language used in courts of law. However, he had no idea what she was talking about.
“You will excuse my lack of refinement. When you had your unfortunate encounter at the molly house, you were found in company with a young gentleman, one Matthew Canning. That young man has asked to withdraw all his funds from Childers’s bank. Unfortunately, the bank has been requested to withhold the money.”
“Who requested you to do that?” Darius demanded, his voice sharp.
The lady slowly turned her head to meet Darius’s steady gaze. In that moment, Andrew understood how this woman could run such a large enterprise on her own. She did not falter or look away and appeared content to allow the tense silence to continue. Many people would have rushed to fill the uncomfortable pause, but she did not.
However, they did not have all evening. Fascinated though he was, Andrew needed to move matters along. “Whitehall,” he suggested. “Let us settle on that for now. They asked for the funds to be withheld.”
Miss Childers was the first to look at him. She nodded. “Yes, let’s. I run one of the biggest banks in London, so I hear of matters you might not immediately apply to me.” She took a sip of brandy, not at all abashed at her statement.
Managing a business so large would intimidate the boldest man or woman. That she could accomplish that on her own filled Andrew with admiration.
“Whitehall wants me to put a stop to his funds. When he arrived in London, he deposited a good sum with the bank.”
“What did you do?” Andrew asked softly. He steepled his hands, pressing the tips of his fingers under his chin.
“I ordered the tellers to give him an excuse. They are there because they can think on their feet. They sent him away. He left an address, and we promised to expedite his request as soon as we could.”
“And the address?”
Andrew could have hit Darius. The question was too eager, too quick, and it sounded too much like an order. Andrew would wager that Miss Childers took orders from nobody, even a handsome, arrogant marquess’s son. She wouldn’t take his demand kindly.
Her smile did not waver. “I will get to that. In return, gentlemen, I have a favor to ask.”
Clever, to incite their interest and then ask for something in return.
“Name it.” Darius again. Did he have to sound quite so eager?
Miss Childers cast Darius an amused look. “You haven’t heard it yet, my lord. What if I am about to propose marriage to one of you?”
Darius went pale, an interestingly delicate shade. “I gave my word, ma’am.”
The lady threw back her head and howled with laughter. The diamonds in her hair glittered against the dead-white of her hair powder, adding vitality and life to the arrangement. “I will not hold you to it, sir. I know your—”
Darius exchanged a glance with Andrew, the alarm in his eyes a reflection of Andrew’s own.
Andrew gave an inward groan. She was astute, this woman. She would not have missed that instinctive exchange. “Some people have made excellent marriages when they share friendship and nothing else.”
Was this lady of the same inclination? Did she prefer her own sex? She was boldly good looking, but her attraction was most definitely feminine. Not that Andrew was any judge.
“Perhaps they do, but I do not marry for a different reason: I can never be sure the man courting me is not a clever fortune hunter.”
“Some men are extremely wealthy.”
“None of them are men I wish to marry.” She shrugged. “I am nearly thirty, sir, and I believe well on the shelf. Much to my relief. I will live my life as well as I can and leave my businesses to worthy candidates when the time comes. That is enough for me. It has to be.” A touch of wistfulness echoed in her last words, but Andrew would not question her. It was none of his business. Had she met someone? Someone she couldn’t marry? That put her in a similar situation to Andrew and Darius.
“I have seen what happens to heiresses who marry. They lose all their property and become nothing but the chattel of their husbands. I have no mind to see that happen to me. So I must forego that part of life. I am fortunate that I have the wherewithal to life in comfort and for society to continue to accept me.”
“Speaking of respectability, ma’am, should you not have another lady present? A companion?”
Miss Childers dismissed that notion with a wave of her fan. “A footman stands in the corridor. He has been with me since I was a child, and he will not betray my situation to anyone. And I know you will not. My current companion is a prosy bore. I am in the process of ridding myself of her.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, I will have to replace her, but I have someone in mind.” He sipped her brandy. “And that brings us back to the business in hand. We have spent too long in here already. People will talk, if we absent ourselves much longer.”
Here was a woman Andrew could admire. He was probably not the first person to think that, but one of the few who had absolutely no pretensions to her hand. And judging from what she had said, she knew why.
“I have a new enterprise in mind.” She met Andrew’s gaze and then flicked a glance at Darius. “I read the account of your defense of Lord Valentinian Shaw last year, sir, and you impressed me a great deal. I may need help in a new venture I’ve a mind to engage in, but it will not be primarily in estates and management. No, the concerns are more of the criminal variety. The Waltham Acts are a disgrace, a great injustice. You can escape the noose for murder or be hanged for stealing a penny loaf. I have a group of people ready to help me in this enterprise, but I need a legal adviser.”
“Indeed, ma’am?” His heart beat faster. “The enterprise you speak of?”
“Will remain covert. Under my control. But the evidence and the challenges will not. I would like you to act for us in court.”
He began to understand. Would he become part of the lady’s crusade? He could make a lot of enemies if she decided to force Parliament to reconsider the acts that were the basis of English justice. But yes, he’d seen certain things that had made his blood boil. “The best course is to take it case by case, at least at first. But you must aggregate them all and create a complete group that Parliament needs to take notice of.”
She nodded. “I would pay you a retaining fee, of course, but I would not expect you to work for me exclusively. This is nothing to do with the bank, but I do have other business concerning my property I would like to discuss with you.”
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to bribe me or pay me a retainer. I am with you, ma’am. I have seen enough in the courts to know that I would like to help with this work.” Oh, so now he was offering to work on a case-by-case basis? He hadn’t done that since he left Oxford.
Andrew did not miss her glance at the clock standing by the window.
“Why did you want me present, ma’am?” Darius asked.
“Because of your brother, and because I need someone like you to help. You are not the only gentleman of fashion I am asking to help me. Since you two are acquainted, I thought it best to see you both together. And the other matter. That concerns you, does it not?”
Dipping into her bosom, she drew out a piece of paper. The sight left Andrew unmoved. That, more than anything else, went a long way to convince him he would never allow another woman into his bed. If he could not get excited over this beauty, then women were just not for him.
And they never would be.
Darius rose in a smooth movement and took the paper. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “This man could cause the deaths of many people loyal to the crown if he is not stopped. He has a list that would put many people in danger. Your excuse might be the reason he is still in this country.”
She met his gaze, eventually nodding. “Thank you for trusting me. If I delay him further, he may become suspicious, so you will have to act quickly.”
“He has a contact, a man who is probably more dangerous than he is, and we want to catch him, too. This may help us.”
“Us?”
Darius shrugged. “Loyalists. My father knows about this matter.”
Her nod this time was gracious enough for a queen. “I trust your father implicitly. What will you do with this person?”
“I do not yet know. Tell my father his name, I suppose.”
“Act for yourself,” she advised. “Bring him back to London, and let the law deal with him. If he is a traitor, he will lose everything. Reputation, fortune, and any respect he might have garnered.”
With a rustle of her ample skirts, Miss Childers got to her feet. “I’ll say good evening, sirs. Please remain here for a short time before you leave. I shall go to my bedroom and from there to the ballroom. Needless to say, you have not seen me.”
Andrew rose and bowed, as did Darius, when she left.
He expelled a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Well,” Darius said. “Here we are again.”