EPISODE ONE HUNDRED OF LECHERS AND BASTARDS

EPISODE ONE HUNDRED

OF LECHERS AND BASTARDS

B elle made an anxious sound and pulled at Daisy s hair again. Moo?

Daisy pulled out a handkerchief and dried her eyes. Moo, she agreed, her voice cracking. Then she placed the baby back into the basket, tucking the blanket around her. Belle immediately began sucking her thumb.

We can t stay here, she said aloud, her mind scrambling as she tried to think of solutions. If she had garnered one thing from the painful conversation with her mother, it was that Lady Wharton was desperate to keep her place in society. If Daisy raised Belle, her mother would be summarily abandoned by her friends.

So Belle had to be raised elsewhere. Her father didn t care about his illegitimate offspring, so trying to find him would do no good.

Two people came to mind: Frederick and Miles.

She was enormously fond of Frederick, but he wasn t a hedonist, the way Miles was. Daisy doubted very much that Frederick had ever been in a house of ill-repute-if only because he was infamous for bedding married women. She had a shrewd feeling that he had no lover at the moment. He was technically courting her, after all, albeit in an inebriated and lackadaisical fashion.

Thus Frederick likely hadn t fathered a bastard child.

But Miles? She could readily imagine him strolling through a brothel on the arm of an elegant Frenchwoman. The memory of him smiling down at her at the Rothingale masquerade when he believed she was a courtesan gave her a burning sensation in the back of her throat.

She didn t want that in a husband. She didn t want him .

She owed her mother an apology. Lady Wharton was right. Better to marry a greenhorn, one of the young boys who clustered about her at dances, than a man whose taste for depravity was bred in the bone.

In fact, she d prefer to marry Frederick-better a drunk rather than a lecher. A grim choice, but salutary. Growing up involved hard choices.

Yet if Miles and her father were both lechers, they were cut from different cloth. She refused to believe that Miles would dispatch his illegitimate offspring to an orphanage, even the best such establishment in London.

Rakehell he may be, but he was a decent man. His by-blows were surely housed somewhere in the country where they were loved and cared for, perhaps on his own estate. She straightened, thinking hard. If Belle joined Miles s offspring, no one would ever make a connection between Daisy and the child.

Miles was kind . He was a problem-solver. He would understand that Belle had to be kept safe from society s reproach. What s more, if Miles took her in, Daisy could see occasionally see her sister. Somehow.

Tangle would appear at any moment, a thought that propelled Daisy to her feet. She pulled her fichu from the neckline of her gown and draped it over Belle s basket, arranging it so lace hung over the sides as if she were carrying a gift of fruit from the country. Then she walked straight out the door.

At the end of the block, she peeked under the fichu and discovered Belle was still sucking her thumb, albeit with her eyes closed. The baby would probably need to be fed fairly soon; Daisy had the vague understanding that babies had to be fed numerous times a day.

Suddenly she remembered that Miles s sister Clementine was a terrible gossip. Perhaps she should announce herself under a false name to ensure that Clementine never learned of her visit. That seemed like an excellent precaution.

She had resolved to introduce herself as one of her favorite theatrical characters and was walking quickly toward Miles s house when she ran into Lady Regina.

Good morning, Miss Wharton!

Lady Regina! Daisy caught herself. I mean, good morning, Lady Regina.

What on earth are you doing at my end of the street? For my part, I am taking an early constitutional. I find that taking three or four walks a day is critical for maintaining my figure. Regina waved dismissively at her maid, who dropped back to stand out of earshot. Where on earth is your maid? I might have assumed you were a servant delivering fresh bread if I hadn t recognized your gown. I do like that fringe. It s from Quimby s Emporium, is it not?

Yes, it is, Daisy replied. If you ll forgive me, Lady Regina, I must drop this basket off and dash home. My mother would be most displeased that I am out of doors without my maid.

Yes, I expect she would. Where are you headed? Regina turned to look behind her. Only two houses can be found at the end of this street, and I doubt you were bringing me a present.

Regina s brother, the Duke of Lennox, owned a modestly sized townhouse that dated back a hundred years. Miles was a mere lord, and yet his house could only be described as a mansion, bedecked with marble. It towered over the street, windows sparkling in the sunshine and roofed over with scalloped tiles, looking like an extravagant wedding cake.

He could certainly afford to keep his illegitimate children in comfort.

Daisy managed a smile. I m delivering a basket of fruit for Clementine. As I told you before, our families have long acquaintance. I often bring baked goods and such for the family.

Your bodice is very low, Regina said, frowning. Men might take that as an invitation, especially when a woman is as as bouffant as you are. A fichu would be a good addition. Would you like to borrow my maid? Just to make certain that you are not accosted?

Rather surprisingly, Regina looked genuinely concerned.

The street is empty, Daisy pointed out.

I believe that Clementine has gone to Bath to see her sisters, so you definitely shouldn t enter the house unaccompanied.

In that case, I shall merely hand this basket to a footman.

I have decided to encourage Lord Devin s courtship, Lady Regina said musingly. His birth and fortune are excellent. I like the idea of living next door to my brother and sister-in-law, even though Beatrice and I have had a few squabbles. The only drawback is that Lord Devin has a withering manner. But does that matter in a spouse?

He does seem to be frightfully ill-tempered, Daisy said. To her horror, she saw her fichu pop upwards, as if a little foot had kicked it from underneath. I m sure you can do better. It was lovely seeing you, Lady Regina. She slipped by. If you ll excuse me, I must return home expeditiously.

She could feel Regina s gaze drilling into her all the way down the street, but she didn t look around, not even when she was climbing the marble steps leading to Number Forty-Nine, nor when Lord Devin s butler opened the door. He was an elderly man with coiffed hair that rivaled the color of his white shirt.

Good morning, Miss, he said with ceremonious gravity.

I am Miss Peacham, she announced. I must see Lord Devin. Immediately.

The butler glanced over her shoulder, no doubt looking for a maid or chaperone.

I have private business with his lordship.

His eyes narrowed.

I shall attend him in his library, Daisy said, walking straight past the butler, because if her mother had taught her anything, it was how to cow a servant. I suppose it s down the corridor?

Excuse me! Miss!

She marched ahead, forcing the butler to follow her. He shuffled after her, just overtaking her in time to open a door and announce, A young lady, my lord.

For God s sake, Hobbs, Miles drawled from somewhere inside. Take care of it yourself, won t you? I have to finish this report.

That s Miss Peacham to you, Daisy snapped at Hobbs, getting into her role. She brushed past him again, walked into the room, and closed the door in the butler s face.

Hello, Miles.