Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

“ A unt Letitia wishes to help me find a wife? Or does she mean to push Lady Lenora at me more vigorously?” Oakley asked his sisters.

“Likely the last one,” Adelaide replied matter-of-factly. “You could do worse, you know. Lady Lenora is a noted beauty.”

“Lady Lenora and I were raised like brother and sister.”

“Not in the same household,” Scarlett said. “And many times friendships turn to love.”

“Not this time.” Oakley shifted in the chair, which seemed to be growing harder and less comfortable by the second. “Must I continue to sit here? ’Tis like I face an inquisition!”

Adelaide leant forwards. “Just tell me that we have your agreement? It would be a dreadful waste of everyone’s energies if we were to introduce our very excellent young ladies to you, only to have you spurn them.”

“Spurn! That is a hard word.” Oakley shook his head. “When have I spurned anyone? Yes, I shall meet your ladies, but where it goes from there I cannot say.”

“The ladies we have in mind are so superior, you will not be able to help but to fall in love with them,” Frederica said warmly.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Oakley begged to be permitted to flee to the other side of Scarlett’s large drawing room to where the gentlemen had naturally gravitated. Lord Tipton had spent enough time on his feet and sank into a chair with a groan. “Oh, I cannot recollect when I last ate so well.”

“I believe it must have been last Sunday,” Kem teased. “When Frederica and Penrith hosted us all.”

Lord Tipton shook his head fondly as he permitted the duke to put his feet on a little stool. “These family dinners are wonderful, an important tradition to hold, but I do not know whether my waistcoats can take many more of them.”

“One might practise restraint,” Oakley suggested drily.

“Heaven forbid!” his lordship exclaimed. “Where is the diversion in that?”

They were still laughing when Lady Carbrooke and Lady Lenora were announced. Lady Carbrooke was Lady Tipton’s younger sister, Letitia. Oakley had recently learnt that Lady Carbrooke had once set her cap at his birth father, Robert, but had been left disappointed when Robert eloped. It had not done her much harm, happily, as she instead secured the affections of an older, doting marquess who spoilt her and their two daughters dreadfully. Carbrooke was wholly devoted to sport, and rarely left his estate, preferring to be in the country wading through streams or shooting at things. His wife was perfectly happy going about London without him, particularly since the eldest of their daughters, Lady Lenora, had come out. Lady Carbrooke was just as devoted to seeing her daughter advantageously married as the marquess was to clearing the birds off his land.

Alas, Lady Lenora had proved more difficult to settle than her mother might have imagined. Though handsome, with an excellent dowry, she was also wilful and had, for reasons of her own, refused offers from seven suitors—or so it had been said. In truth, it was more like three, but the ton employed a unique form of mathematics in such situations.

Oakley and Lady Lenora had always got on famously, so when she entered, he went to her, taking a seat beside her on the small sofa she chose to sit upon.

“I understand,” said Lady Lenora with a smirk, “that the family are conspiring to see you settled.”

“The news has indeed travelled quickly! I only just learnt of it myself!”

“You know they mean to toss me at you, yes?”

Oakley gave a mocking groan. “Well pray, add me to your list of refused suitors now, then they can all rest easier!”

She giggled. “Shall you be my number twelve?”

“Twelve! You have had a busy week, it seems.”

They both laughed comfortably and then Lady Lenora informed him, “I have already told Mama that it will not do. You have always been the nearest thing to a brother that I have.”

“A pre-proposal refusal, then?”

“Call it what you will,” she replied archly, and he laughed, genuinely, as she added, “Saves us both a bit of trouble, does it not?”

“I confess it is difficult to imagine marrying a lady who once donned my own breeches to ride with me.”

“You and your dreadful, good memory,” she said with a little shove. “But yes, I do believe that people who have spent their childhoods as we did would find it difficult to change those fond feelings to romance.”

“As do I.” Genuine relief swept through him. “But surely Lila must grow impatient?”

Lady Lila had always been in a hurry to grow up. Three years younger than Lady Lenora, she had trailed after them, usually dragging a doll by one arm, begging to be included in their games. She, too, was a very pretty young woman, recently finished at school, and Oakley imagined she was eager for her share of the Season’s amusements.

“Mama intends to permit her to attend a concert or two this Season, just to keep her content. I am certain it will only whet her appetite and before long she will be just as determined as my mother to find me a husband.”

“Well let us see whom I end with, and perhaps she will have an obliging brother willing to shackle himself to you.”

“Such a charming way to think of it,” she said drily.

“But truly Len, you must wish to marry, yes? What is it that prohibits you?”

“Lenora? Oakley?” Lady Carbrooke’s call from across the room interrupted them. “Come and play whist with us.”

Oakley rose, assisting Lady Lenora to her feet. “Money,” she informed him bluntly. “My fortune prohibits me.”

“Your fortune is excellent. Most ladies would consider it an asset, not an impediment.”

“It is too much an asset. I never know whether a man likes me or my fortune. I cannot marry until I can find a man who loves me even without it.”

“Matrimony.” Oakley sighed. “Such a tricky business.”

The pair strolled over to the side where the footmen were setting up card tables. They spent a very agreeable half an hour playing against Frederica and the duke, followed by a less agreeable half an hour against Lady Carbrooke and Lady Tipton. The two sisters were fierce competitors who had honed their skills by regular participation in the not-entirely-secret groups of lady gamblers throughout London. It did not help that Lady Carbrooke immediately wished to discuss Oakley’s matrimonial prospects every time she was not actively taking or planning a trick.

“Lenora thinks Oakley is too much like a brother,” Lady Carbrooke said with a little scoff.

“Well, now we know they are not even cousins,” Lady Tipton replied. “They are no more related than…why, than anyone!”

“I despair of that girl, Louisa.”

Lady Lenora rolled her eyes at Oakley even as Lady Tipton clucked sympathetically in reply to her sister’s words.

After a few minutes of silent play, Lady Carbrooke said, “Carbrooke has a cousin?—”

“Mama,” Lady Lenora interrupted, “Oakley’s sisters have it all well in hand.”

“Of course! Far be it from me to be intrusive—you know I am not that sort of mother.”

“She is precisely that sort of mother,” Lady Lenora murmured in Oakley’s direction. He stifled a laugh.

The marchioness continued to speak. “However, if the prospects that Lady Kemerton and Lady Worthe and the duchess have arranged do not suit, I know a great many young ladies who are in want of husbands.”

“I am certain you do,” Oakley said with a smile. “And I should be very grateful to consult you if needed.”

It was a very short time thereafter that Lady Carbrooke continued, “Carbrooke’s cousin is positively unparalleled on the harp, and she has?—”

“Mother!” Lady Lenora exclaimed. “Leave poor Oakley be!”

“I do not understand young people these days,” Lady Carbrooke said in a huff. “No one wants to marry! They just want to gad about London, tending to their own whims and amusements.”

“When that is our job, is it not?” Lady Tipton teased. “Old married ladies that we are!” This sent the two sisters off into giggles while Lady Lenora and Oakley sighed fondly and exchanged glances.

When at length they had beaten the two younger people thrice, Lady Carbrooke made a great show of yawning. “There is scarcely any diversion here, Louisa. Did we not teach them to play? I was certain we had!”

“We taught them to play, but we did not teach them all of our tricks,” Lady Tipton responded, and the two again giggled like schoolgirls.

“Oh! Speaking of tricks, you will not believe what Lenora heard about Damian,” Lady Carbrooke said, in a lowered, confiding sort of tone.

“What did you hear?” Oakley asked Lady Lenora curiously.

“Mama! I told you not to mention it!” Lady Lenora flushed and sent her mother a vexed look.

“They are his nearest relations,” Lady Carbrooke insisted. “They ought to know!”

“What ought we to know?” Lord Tipton’s ears had evidently been pricked, and he came to their table as quickly as he could given his affliction.

“I am certain it is nothing, Uncle Charles,” said Lady Lenora. “Just some prison tattle.”

“Prison tattle?” Oakley laughed. “Have you been hanging about the gaol?”

“Yes in fact, I have,” she replied pertly.

“Lenora has become active in The Society for the Discharge and Relief of Persons Imprisoned for Small Debts. They raise money for those in gaol who have no family or money with which to extricate themselves,” Lady Carbrooke informed them all. “I am quite proud to see her doing it, although I cannot think it necessary that she actually goes into the prisons.”

“Seems like a bad idea,” Lord Tipton opined. “Lenora, you ought not to go to such places! What will your future husband think?”

Lady Lenora smiled at him. “One never knows, Uncle, perhaps my husband awaits me in his chains at Fleet Street. Only think of the advantage—he will already be accustomed to leg shackles!”

Oakley laughed while scandalised bursts of chastisement came from his aunt and mother. When it had all died down, he enquired, “Do tell me they have a…a guard or someone of that sort to protect you?”

“I take a footman,” she replied carelessly. “I cannot go in with a retinue of servants, not when half of them are starving.”

“What was said about Damian?” Lord Tipton asked, looking grave.

“Nothing but a pack of nonsense,” Lady Carbrooke inserted firmly. “You must know that some of these men become desperate, willing to say anything they think will earn them money. Lenora, tell your uncle how these men do anything for a coin.”

“I understand,” Lord Tipton replied. “But nevertheless I must ask again—what was said?”

“They said Damian was a jewel thief,” Lady Carbrooke inserted, the gleam in her eye clearly showing that she relished the telling. “Had young gentlemen working all over the place to steal jewels from all the best houses.”

“Nonsense,” cried Lady Tipton. “Damian was a rotter, but I cannot think him capable of such a scheme.”

Lord Tipton laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “No, nor I. Idle chatter is all that is.”

“Positively,” Lady Lenora said assuredly. “My mother is right, these wretched souls will say absolutely anything, and very little of it should be given credence.”

“Anyhow, what can it matter?” Oakley asked, rising from the whist table. Scarlett’s housekeeper had laid a light supper, and he found himself surprisingly interested in it. “Damian is dead, and last I knew, the laws do not apply to those who have left their mortal coil.”

“Just so. Damian is cold in the grave, and whatever he got up to is buried with him.” Lord Tipton gave a firm nod. “Let us leave it buried.”