Chapter 6

CHAPTER

a

6

T heo walked through the foyer at Peachtree Manor, her old childhood home. She'd traveled to the country for the annual Midsummer Festival that was held in Ralston every year. The fair drew crowds, merchants, and tradesmen from all over the kingdom. It was a Cronenworth tradition that they attended and reveled.

She halted to drop a letter into the mail basket. A footman carried them into the village to post them every afternoon. She'd written to her sister, Charlotte, inviting her to Peachtree, but she doubted she'd receive a reply. Lately, Charlotte's correspondence had become extremely intermittent.

Since Theo had betrothed herself to Arthur, her sister had been mostly absent from her life. Charlotte had been mortally opposed to Theo's decision, but Charlotte was braver than Theo, was more determined than Theo. She never suffered Theo's same waves of panic as to how she'd weather the future.

Arthur was a known quantity, who would provide the security Theo sought, and he wouldn't bring any surprises or disasters.

Charlotte couldn't understand Theo's need to stabilize her circumstances, and her sister was trying to support herself without a husband or family to bolster her. Unfortunately, men had structured the world to ensure women couldn't thrive by themselves, but Charlotte refused to accept that reality.

They'd grown up at Peachtree and had resided in the manor with their mother before she'd run away. Their scattered memories of her revolved around the estate, and from the minute Arthur had announced that he was selling it, her bond with Charlotte had been on shaky ground.

They'd never been fond of Georgina or Arthur, and when he'd blithely disposed of the property, a split had been torn in the fabric of their existence. Charlotte had disgraced them by finding a position as a teacher at a boarding school. As she'd stomped out the door to begin working, she'd insisted she wouldn't return until Georgina and Arthur were wrenched from their lives.

Theo couldn't deduce how that would ever be possible. Their father had wedged them into the middle of everything and they were a permanent fixture. What was the point of fighting about it?

Theo tried not to fret about her sister, but she couldn't help it. Charlotte had picked her path, and whenever Theo was lucky enough to talk to her, she claimed to be content with her choice. Still though, it seemed wrong to enjoy a holiday at Peachtree without Charlotte present to enjoy it too.

In her letter, Theo had begged Charlotte to join her, but she wasn't optimistic. If she'd been staying by herself, Charlotte might have agreed, but when Georgina and Arthur were visiting too, Charlotte would never show up.

Theo hurried off to have breakfast, as various kin stirred in the bedchambers overhead. There were a dozen relatives in the house and the grand abode could easily accommodate them. A distant cousin had purchased it from Arthur and he allowed them to use it during the fair.

Yet she could never quite think of it as belonging to someone else, and when she strolled down the halls, she noticed minor alterations she didn't like. When no one was watching, she'd move knick-knacks and furniture, putting them where they'd been before. It was petty conduct, but she couldn't stop herself.

She entered the dining room and Georgina was there with her twin sister, Gertrude. They looked exactly alike: grey hair, beady grey eyes, corpulent figures. They were Cronenworth women who'd married Cronenworth men—Georgina twice and Gertrude once—so they'd never even had to change their names after they were brides.

They saw her and lurched apart, as if she'd caught them plotting mischief. They were a peculiar, unlikable pair who huddled in corners, whispering and sharing secrets. They acted as if they were repeatedly and unjustly persecuted, as if everyone was out to get them. Theo assumed their dour attitudes were exacerbated by their gloomy marriages, but maybe if they were less bossy and annoying, people might treat them better.

A buffet was arranged on a side table and Theo filled a plate and sat down to eat. She chatted with them, and gradually, the conversation wound to the recent success of the Matron's Brigade against the actress, Tilly Dreadful.

"After the rally ended," Georgina said, "you should have come to the church with us. It was a wonderful wrap-up to the event."

Georgina had only mentioned it a dozen times and Theo lied. "I'm sorry I missed it."

Gertrude added, "Vicar Johnson blessed us for being so effective."

Vicar Johnson was a pompous ass who hated women and Theo was biting her tongue so hard she could barely chew her food. Finally, she said, "Have you ever worried about Miss Dreadful? I mean, what do you suppose will happen to her? What if she starves on the street because we forced her to lose her job? Would that bother you?"

They gaped at her as if she'd sprouted a second head. Then Georgina said, "If Miss Dreadful suffers difficulties, it's her own fault. She is the one who chose a life of sin and iniquity."

"Yes, but you're aware of my opinion. If she reveled in depravity, there had to have been a man involved in her downfall. I will never understand why we have to pretend it's not true."

Georgina scowled. "I swear, Theo, you've developed the strangest ideas."

"They're not that strange. I've always believed my mother was unfairly blamed."

The comment was too much for Gertrude. "Don't drag your mother into it. She was a notorious hussy and the greatest vixen of her generation. You can't win any arguments by citing her as an example."

It was the kind of insult that made Theo gnash her teeth, that made her want to shout or slap somebody, but she wasn't a person who raged or vented. She inhaled a few deep breaths, and when she was in control enough to speak calmly, she said, "I don't have the necessary spleen to be a member of the Brigade. I'll be turning in my red sash."

Georgina clucked with offense and, as if Theo wasn't present, told her sister, "She's irked that the pamphlet she drafted was unusable. She blatantly accused Lord Sutton of being a libertine and she's determined to chastise important men."

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here," Theo snapped, "or as if I'm still ten and can't comprehend adult issues."

Primly, Georgina said, "Well, if you act like a child, you should expect to be viewed as one."

The sisters harumphed in unison. Theo ignored them and focused on her food. She was especially peevish, but whenever she was at Peachtree, her temper constantly flared. Often, she would become so irritated that she'd wonder if she should cease her visits. When her being on the premises could reduce her mood to such a low level, why torture herself?

Arthur blustered in, so they were able to move away from any discord and concentrate on him. As he sat and ate with them, they discussed the festival, what would be different, what would be the same. Each year, new activities were added and it was interesting to discover what they were.

"I hope the fortunetellers come," Theo said, just to startle them. "I'm desperate to have my future predicted."

"Honestly, Theo!" Georgina scolded. "What a scandalous pronouncement! You know how Vicar Johnson feels about divination and the occult."

Theo smirked. "What do you think, Arthur? Should I risk it?"

He never liked to bicker and he said to Georgina, "It's a fair, Mother. I doubt the Earth will stop spinning if Theo fritters away her pennies on a charlatan."

"What about the dances on Friday and Saturday nights?" Theo asked him. "Shall we attend one or both of them?"

The final nights, there were dances on the village green, and previously, they'd attended together. It was exotic and lovely to promenade on the grass under the stars, and she'd assumed they'd participate as they had in the past.

But she was incredibly disappointed when he said, "I'll have to ponder it. Last summer, there was significant public drinking and it was very rowdy. If there's a chance it might be that risqué again, I'm not sure I should escort you. It might not be safe."

She was completely flummoxed by his remark, but she wasn't about to spat with him while Georgina and Gertrude were eavesdropping. She didn't need to be protected from a few sots who'd over-imbibed, and she'd speak to him about it later, when she could press her case without the grumpy sisters listening in.

She said to him, "The fair doesn't officially begin until Wednesday, but would you like to take a carriage over to Ralston? I'd like to see some of the early preparations being implemented. I could shop too, before the bigger crowds arrive."

"I can't today," he replied. "There's a horse auction I heard about. I've already arranged to go there instead."

"Oh."

He stood and tossed down his napkin, saying to his mother, "I may have some friends in the neighborhood. Could I invite one or two of them to supper on Wednesday?"

"I guess you can," Georgina said, "but who is it?"

"I can't be certain. I had mentioned the fair to my London chums and some of them claimed they were planning to be here too. I'm not convinced they were serious though."

"It's always just family when we're at Peachtree," Georgina told him, "so we're very informal. Were you presuming we'd host a fancy meal? How lofty are these fellows? If it's casual dining, would they be insulted?"

"Casual will be fine."

"We didn't bring supplies, clothes, or enough servants to entertain posh company."

"You're very clever, Mother," he said. "I'm positive you'll pull it off with great aplomb."

He strutted out and they dawdled quietly as he headed toward the front door. It opened and closed, and shortly, his horse's hooves clopped on the gravel as he trotted away.

The three of them finished their breakfast, but his comments had disturbed them. Georgina didn't like that he would spring guests on her, and Theo was annoyed because he had no desire to socialize with her. In fact, with each passing month, he was less inclined.

Georgina and Gertrude were shooting furtive glances at each other. Clearly, they wanted to be alone to gossip about him.

She sighed and said, "It appears I'll have to ride to Ralston by myself."

Georgina scoffed. "You know I don't like you to traipse off on your own."

"And you also know that I'm an adult, and I'm perfectly capable of deciding how to spend my afternoon without a chaperone dogging my every step."

Gertrude chimed in with, "Na?ve women are bold until disaster strikes."

"Thank you for that wise piece of advice," Theo responded a tad too snidely.

Arthur's flippant attitude had left her more aggravated than ever. She stood too and sauntered out. The day stretched before her like the road to Hades.

She wasn't about to loaf with Georgina and Gertrude as they whispered and whined about every little issue. When she visited Peachtree, she didn't feel they should be allowed to visit with her. It hadn't been their fault that Arthur had sold the property, but she blamed them just the same.

She marched up to her bedchamber to grab a shawl and bonnet. Then she'd walk out to the barn and find a groomsman who could harness a carriage and drive her to Ralston. It would be a pleasant excursion, and for a few hours, she'd be able to forget how unhappy she was to be at her childhood home.

v

"Where is Jackson?"

Cedric Bennett was seated on a sofa, and as Lola stomped up, he stared up at her and said, "He was bored and he went over to Ralston."

"We only arrived last night. How could he be bored already?"

"He hates the country. You're aware of that."

"Well, I hate the country too, but you don't hear me complaining about how tedious it is."

"Not yet anyway," Cedric muttered.

Arthur Cronenworth had invited Jackson and several other acquaintances to travel to Ralston for the Midsummer Festival. Arthur was staying with relatives at their grand manor, but he'd rented a rather decrepit house nearby—called Owl's Nest—for his friends. He was paying for it, so it was a free holiday. Why wouldn't they have accepted?

Apparently, he was a mama's boy, who was firmly attached to her apron strings, and he didn't dare introduce her to any of the companions with whom he caroused. They were all gamblers, and Arthur had a terrible addiction, so he couldn't bear to be away from the city—and gambling—for two weeks. He'd figured out a method to guarantee constant wagering by dragging everyone along.

Over the past few months, he'd lost a fortune to Jackson, and he was anxious to keep playing, so he could win some of it back. Despite how he tried though, he'd never catch up. Jackson was simply too cunning, and the inept idiot never should have bet with him.

Jackson had been working to graciously decline future games, but Arthur insisted that honor required Jackson to provide opportunities for Arthur to regain some ground. If the incompetent dunce was determined to beggar himself, was it Jackson's duty to stop him? Cedric didn't think so.

Arthur's male guests had brought their mistresses to furnish extra entertainment, so the place was filled with doxies, which Cedric enjoyed. He might be fifty, but he wasn't dead. He relished a beautiful tart as much as ever.

"Why didn't Jackson wait and take me with him?" Lola asked.

"Am I supposed to read his mind? Besides, you never stagger out of bed before noon. Why would he have expected you to rise at a decent hour?"

"You two are thick as thieves. He probably told you what he's really doing. Obviously, he's engaged in mischief that he's hiding from me. What is it?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say he doesn't like the people here and he needed some time to himself."

He glared directly at her, leaving no doubt that he was referring to her. She was so confident about her spot with Jackson and maybe she had reason to be cocky. Cedric had frequently tried to persuade his son to part from her, but Jackson was too loyal and too kind. He didn't owe Lola any great debt, but if he tossed her over, what would become of her?

She was tired of Cedric's mocking attitude and she said, "You're such a rude bastard."

"You're wrong about that. I have it on the highest authority that my parents were married, so I can't possibly be a bastard."

"This house is a disgusting pigsty and the servants are slothful and negligent. Will we dress for supper? What is your prediction?"

"The men will be gambling long before the sun sets. They won't want to pause to eat, so any food we receive will likely be little more than a picnic. Look around at the hired help, dear. I can't see them preparing or serving a fancy meal. Can you?"

"I'm loathing this stupid jaunt more by the second."

She was a gorgeous woman who liked to be the center of attention. She would have been salivating over elaborate suppers because she'd have been eager for the other trollops to jealousy study her and burn with envy.

The other ladies were actresses and opera dancers, and their dream was to latch onto a nobleman like Jackson. Instead, they were stuck with third sons or disinherited wastrels who had no money and no hope of any significant alteration of their circumstances.

Lola had accomplished the amazing feat of snagging an earl, and the other slatterns would be wondering how secure she was in her relationship with Jackson and if he could be lured away from her.

"If Jackson returns," she said, "have him come upstairs at once."

"By all means, Your Majesty. I will send him up immediately."

"He promised we'd travel to Thornhill while we're in the country. I'm anxious to explore the manor. I'll decide what modifications will have to be made so we can move in."

Thornhill was the estate connected to Jackson's title. It was several miles up the road and it would be simple to jump in a carriage and ride there. At the current moment though, Jackson wasn't about to move in, so he didn't intend to stop by. He'd already visited and taken an inventory and the process had left him depressed and annoyed.

The house had been empty for years and the surrounding farmland allowed to go fallow. There were too many expensive upgrades required for it to be habitable, and Cedric was fairly sure Jackson wouldn't ever show it to Lola. If she strolled in the door, she was the type of possessive shrew who would plant roots and refuse to depart.

"Was Jackson planning to swing by Thornhill?" Cedric asked. "Are you certain? He didn't mention it to me."

"He doesn't tell you everything. Yes, we've scheduled a tour of the property and it was to happen this afternoon."

"He must have changed his mind. Evidently, he wasn't keen to be trapped in his coach with you all day."

Cedric snickered in a manner that hinted at secrets he shared with his son, secrets she could never unravel, and his smug confidence enraged her.

She nearly spewed a caustic comment, but she recognized that it would be pointless to chastise him. They were like oil and water and he'd never liked her. Especially now, with Jackson occupying such an elevated spot in the world, Cedric didn't have to put up with her nonsense and she realized he didn't.

She stormed off, and he remained on the worn sofa in the front parlor and pondered how to fill the hours until the wagering started. He wouldn't wager himself, but would watch the younger men bet what they didn't have and couldn't afford to lose. He'd scoff at them as they acted as if it didn't matter how much money they squandered.

He assessed the shabby furniture and frayed rugs. He'd stayed in better places, but he'd stayed in worse too. When they'd arrived the prior evening, Jackson had explained that the area was packed with tourists for the popular event. It was nigh-on impossible to find lodging, so Owl's Nest was the best Arthur could drum up.

Cedric figured there was a more accurate reason: During the busy festival, a landlord would have plenty of willing renters, and he'd have demanded payment in advance. Arthur had to be flat broke and the crumbling residence was all he could manage. If that was the truth of the situation, Cedric couldn't imagine why the thick oaf would be coming over to gamble.

Light footsteps sounded on the stairs and a doxy flounced into the room. She was a pert, merry opera dancer with curly blond hair and big blue eyes. She had dimpled cheeks and full, plush lips that made a fellow suppose they could be used for many things besides kissing.

Her name was Nell Parsons and Arthur was obsessed with her. He must have wanted her close by so he could sneak away from his mother to philander whenever he was in the mood. He couldn't bear to be separated from her, so in that, he was as addicted to her as he was to gambling.

"I heard a carriage," she said to Cedric. "Was it Arthur?"

"Not that I've seen. It must have been my son, Jackson, leaving."

The previous night, as she'd cozied up to Arthur, she'd pretended to be a na?ve, slightly silly maiden. She was a dancer, but Cedric thought she could have been a successful actress too. She played the part of the perky, frivolous companion so adeptly that Arthur believed that was who she was, but at the moment, Arthur wasn't there to dote on her, so she didn't have to feign innocence. There was a hard, cunning aura swirling about her person.

Cedric loved women and he understood them better than they understood themselves. Life was difficult for them, particularly for those who flourished outside the bounds of Polite Society. She'd improved her lot by glomming onto Arthur Cronenworth, and she would exhibit any trait necessary to guarantee his fondness continued to shine in her direction.

As Cedric confirmed that Arthur hadn't arrived, she trudged over to the liquor tray, poured herself a tall whiskey, and gulped it down. Then she snuggled onto the chair across. Cedric was never shocked by any sort of dissolute conduct, but it was only eleven o'clock in the morning.

"Rough night?" he asked.

"No, but I'm expecting it to be a rough day, so I'm bracing myself early on. I'll definitely need some fortification to keep a smile on my face."

Cedric assumed that was a dig at Arthur. Trollops survived as best they could. She'd snagged Arthur, but from what Cedric had observed, he wasn't worth having.

"How do you like being Arthur's special friend ?" he baldly inquired. "Do you feel as if you're constantly on stage and performing for an audience of one?"

"Yes. I feel exactly that way."

"He seems like a stodgy dolt to me."

"You have no idea," she muttered, then she added, "but he's very generous, so I shouldn't complain." She had worry lines on her forehead, sagging skin under her eyes, as if she was exhausted.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty. Why?"

"Just curious. You're bouncy and fetching. I wish I was rich and settled so I could tender an offer you wouldn't be able to refuse."

She smirked at that. "I was told you're a roué and that I should watch myself around you."

"I was a roué, but I'm not anymore. I don't have the stamina. If I did though, I'd rescue you first."

"You're nice." A horse's hooves crunched out on the gravel driveway and she said, "I bet that's Arthur. I should get ready to greet him."

"Good luck. I hope your day is more enjoyable than you're anticipating."

"It will be perfect. He'll presume it's perfect anyway."

"Isn't that all that matters?"

She jumped up, shook herself, and as he stared, a complete change swept over her. Her expression grew merry, her posture open, her demeanor welcoming.

"That's my cue," she murmured to Cedric. "Here I go."

She winked, then sauntered out to meet Arthur, and she appeared to be the happiest harlot ever. Cedric sighed, sad for her, and relaxed on his chair.