Chapter Seven

Friday, 28 April 1826

Kirkstone House, Mayfair, London

Half-past eight in the morning

M ary looked over the array of food on the sideboard in the breakfast parlor, wishing she had requested a tray of tea and toast in her room instead. Although she knew it must be delicious, nothing appealed to her bedraggled mind and body, and the scent of fried gammon made her slightly nauseated. Even her beloved kedgeree, a dish she normally craved, felt as appetizing as a plate of straw.

Mary arched her neck, trying to ease the stiffness brought on by a sleepless night, and she blinked against the sunlight streaming through lace-curtained windows. The breakfast parlor, an uncommonly pleasant room with its pale green and white décor, faced east, making it extraordinarily bright in the early mornings. Annoying, to say the least. Exhausted, Mary had not bothered to ring for Raleigh, and still wore her night rail and dressing gown. She had never adjusted to the London practice of being perfectly coiffed and dressed before leaving her bedchamber, and she doubted they would ever have visitors this early.

Finally, she chose a piece of toast, a boiled egg, and a few slices of pear. As she settled in her chair, draped her serviette over her lap, and watched as the footman poured her a cup of tea, Kit and Beth entered, both looking drained already. Mary had heard Kit’s heavy footsteps just after six that morning, and she knew he regularly retreated to his study for a couple of hours before breakfast to handle duchy business as well as that concerning his new appointment.

Kit looked at Mary’s plate, then her face. “Did you not sleep much?”

Mary shook her head, reaching for the marmalade. “Too many thoughts.”

“About your young man?”

Mary scowled. “He’s not—yes. And Mina. And India.”

Beth nodded her thanks as the footman poured her tea, but she sat down without any food. Kit paused as he filled his plate, concern in his eyes. “Not even toast?”

Beth gave a slight shake of her head. “Not today.”

Mary suddenly felt selfish for dwelling on her own concerns. “Why did you not stay in bed? I could help with the preparations. Just tell me what to do.”

Beth looked up at Kit.

He shook his head at his wife as he sat at the head of the table. “No. You are not well enough.”

Mary’s stomach felt even queasier. “What is going on?”

“Telling her will not make me any worse.”

Mary straightened in her chair and faced her brother. “Tell me now so Beth can go back to bed.”

Beth smiled, and Kit gave a long sigh, then looked at the footman. “I will need coffee this morning.”

With a nod, the footman left.

Kit reached and clutched his wife’s hand, then looked at Mary. “More than one thing actually. Beth is improving. The doctor thinks she will be past the worst in a few weeks.”

“Mine lasted three months as well.”

Beth chuckled as Kit’s face reddened. “Yes. Well. Um. There’s more. Now that the war with Burma is over, the East India Company—”

“And the government,” whispered Beth.

“And the government wants us in India sooner rather than later. They have moved up our departure date from the fourth of June to the seventh of May.”

A stark numbness flowed over Mary. “But that’s less than two weeks.”

Kit nodded. “Yes.”

“But the amendment runs out on the tenth. There will not be enough time for the banns to be read. You will not be here for my marriage? If he even wants to go through with it. What happens if he does not and you are not here?”

Kit focused on his plate. Beth cleared her throat. “We thought we could help Lord Thaddeus obtain a special license from the archbishop. So you could marry sooner. But there is something el—”

The numbness shattered as something fiery burned deep within Mary. “That is, if he still wants to marry me after he finds out about all the lies we have told the world. And ourselves.” She set aside her serviette and stood, her ire aimed at Kit. “If he defaults, are we going back to that place to sell me to the next highest bidder? Better yet, why do you not just send Mina and me back to Kirkstone and leave me alone so I can rot there? That does seem to be what you are best at.”

Mary strode out of the room, tears burning her eyes as she headed up the stairs. Kit bellowed her name, but she ignored the call, slamming the door to her bedchamber. Inside, Raleigh stood at the door of her dressing room, holding a gown draped over one arm and a pair of day boots in the other hand. Two chambermaids in the room jerked around. One had been in the process of making the bed; the other stoking the fire against the chill of the spring morning.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Mary turned to flee to another part of the house... only to smack hard into her brother’s broad frame. She stepped back, glaring at him. “Can you not let me cry in peace?”

“No. I need you to listen.”

The firmness in Kit’s deep voice had an annoyingly calming effect on Mary, and she looked away from him, closing her eyes. “What?”

Kit reached around her and closed the bedchamber door, then took her hand and led her to the other side of the hall. “We are not abandoning you. The special license would allow you to marry sooner, but if Lord Thaddeus lets the agreement go awry, we are not returning to the Lyon’s Den for the next highest bidder, as you put it. We want you to go with us.”

She stared at him, not quite believing his words. “Go with you. To India.”

He nodded. “It would make sense. We are already taking the three chil—”

Mary felt her stomach drop away. “Mina? You’re taking Mina? To India? You want me to marry and stay here but let you take my child to India? You cannot do that!”

Kit’s eyes narrowed. “Mary. Listen to me. To the world, she is our child. We cannot take the others and leave her. It would only fuel the rumors about you.”

“I do not care about that! Why not leave them all here? People, aristocrats, go to India all the time and not take their children. It’s a sweltering, dangerous, filthy place!”

“It is not—”

Tears blurred Mary’s vision and clogged her voice. “You cannot take her. Please do not do this.”

“Mary—”

“You can not !” She turned and fled up the back stairs. On the fourth floor, she pushed through the door of the nursery without knocking, startling Nanny and Mattie, who sat at a low table, sharing breakfast morsels. Mary crossed the room and scooped Mina, who had begun to stir, into her arms, holding the child close, rocking her, as tears flowed down her cheeks.

Kit entered the nursery and Nanny stood, wide-eyed. Kit gestured for her to sit as Mattie fled to his side, tugging on his sleeve. “Kit!”

“Your Grace!” hissed Nanny, trying to correct the child.

Mary could not help but smile through her tears. The seven-year-old girl, whom they had all met only a year ago, had been raised on the streets of London and Manchester, and she had never developed the proper respect—as dictated by Society—for her brother. Mattie had overheard Beth call him Kit, and he had been Kit ever since.

He stroked Mattie’s hair. “Good morning, Mattie.”

“What’s wrong with Mary?”

“She just missed all of you.”

“But she just saw us last night. We were supposed to be asleep, but I was just pretending. She came in to pet Mina.”

Kit looked up at Mary, eyebrows arched. She nodded and swallowed some of the phlegm clogging her throat. “I missed her. I had to see her.” Her lips trembled and the tears flowed again. “You cannot take her. I will not allow it.”

Nanny made an odd choking noise, and Kit glared at Mary. “Mary—”

“No.” Mary took a deep breath. “I cannot do this anymore. I cannot keep lying to everyone. It was not how I was raised, Kit. Not by Father. Not even by Mother. And certainly not by you.” She looked at Nanny. “Mina is mine. The duke and duchess wish to protect me, but I cannot let them anymore. Whatever happens. I was a fool, and I paid the price.” She faced Kit again. “And I will take the consequences. But you cannot take my child.”

Friday, 28 April 1826

Chambers Coffee House, Bloomsbury, London

Half-past ten in the morning

Thad watched a rumpled and bleary-eyed George as a slender young woman slid a trencher of eggs, sausages, cheese, and bread in front of his friend. George gave her a wan smile and pointed at his half-empty mug. “More coffee, please, love. The hotter, the better.”

She patted his shoulder. “Anything for you, Georgie.”

The girl did not even glance Thad’s way as she swayed away. “One of your many paramours?”

George stabbed a fork into his eggs. “Stella is a paramour of many. I am merely nicer to her than most.”

“Were you nice to her last night?”

George ignored Thad as he took a deep draw on the mug of coffee. His usually pristine friend wore the same clothes from the day before and had not yet shaven.

“You look like the dog’s breakfast. Where did you go last night?”

“To a roaming hell in the Rookeries.”

Thad stared at him. “Whatever in God’s name for? Those people do not have the kind of money you usually game for. I doubt even Mayfair’s servants would darken the door.”

George sniffed. “Mayfair servants would not even know how to find such a place.” He took a bite of sausage. “But you do, do you not?”

Thad stilled. “George, what did you do?”

They paused as Stella set a mug of coffee in front of Thad, then poured more into George’s cup. “You want anything to eat, dearie?” she asked Thad. When he shook his head, she drifted away.

George drank more coffee. “I met with my spies there. And a couple of other people. You know a man named Collins?”

Thad’s muscles tensed. He did not like where this was headed. “Yes.”

“Owe him a great deal of blunt, do you?” George broke his hunk of bread in half and offered part to Thad, who waved it away. “Three, maybe four, you said. To various people.” He bit into the bread.

“George . . .”

George plopped the bread on the trencher, his face reddening. “You gambled against Bully Collins. Good lord, man, what were you about, taking on the most evil gang boss in the Rookeries?” George thumped his own head. “Do you even realize the madness of this? Or were you too drunk to care?”

“Probably the latter—”

“Do you even know how to stop? To take care of this?” He picked up the bread and waggled it at Thad. “You sold your life to the Lyon, agreeing to marry a woman you do not even know to take care of your debt to the Lyon’s Den. So what do you plan to sell to Bully Collins, because I don’t think he’s interested in your soul or your cock?”

“George . . .”

“Because when he said ‘seven’ last night—seven!—and just to him , I felt like walking you down to the docks and putting you on a ship myself.”

“George . . .”

“To keep you safe!” Spittle flew around the words, along with crumbs of bread. George straightened in his chair, then leaned toward Thad, lowering his voice. “Because Collins has decided that you are probably not as good a mark as he thought you were but that you might make a good warning to other blokes who try to cheat him out of his money.”

“I am not trying to—”

“He no longer believes you. He believes you cannot get the money from other hells or your family or your friends. He also mentioned how much you owe Campion’s.”

“Surely others owe him more. It is not unheard of—”

“No, but they have an income. Property. Artwork to sell. Land to rent. Income . Not the pittance of an allowance you do.”

Thad reached for his mug of coffee, turning it around several times, his eyes on the table. “Are they threatening me?”

“I took it as more an assurance than a threat. And one to come sooner rather than later.”

“What do you think I should do?”

George reached for his mug again. “I am too shagged to be inventive at the moment, but the first thing that comes to mind is to marry your fallen angel as quickly as possible and either convince the duke to part with a goodly portion of his income or to take you both with them to India. Or perhaps you could convince the Lyon to buy your debts. I’m sure she would relish having a duke’s brother-in-law in her eternal debt. Because that’s about how long it will take you to pay this off.”

“Ludicrous—” Thad’s word broke off in a choke as two of George’s words hit hard. “What did you call—”

George nodded. “Heard that part, did you?”

“George . . .”

“My spies came through. Those rumors are true. Your fallen angel is not with child. She already has one.”