“Augie’s dead,” their gran said, pulling aside the blanket separating the room Bart and his brothers shared. “Couldn’t get the fever down.”
The only thing that’d surprised him was that his brother had hung on fer so long.
“It’s all that bitch’s fault.” Cager, his youngest brother, growled.
“It’s ye’re own fault for not just hand’n over the babe.” Gran scowled. “What the ’ell was ye think’n?”
“More money for the mort,” Bart muttered. They’d all thought it were a good idea. “Didn’t know she had a pop.”
“Didn’t think she’d use it,” Cager muttered. “She weren’t no rum mort.”
“But she might work for one. Never thought ye was a knowing one, but I didn’t think ye was pudding-headed.” Gran shook her head. “I told ye ’afore. Leave the morts to a flash man. We got a good thing go’in here.” Find’en and selling brats had made them enough to leave St Giles. “Ain’t no one gonna complain about giv’n a brat to one of them charities. Everyone gets what they want. But ye start grabbing morts, and the pigs’ll be look’in fer us. Leave it be.” She grabbed a bag she held the coins in and counted out several. “Yer lucky she paid ye at all. I’d say she’s cannier than ye are.”
Bart took the balsam. He knew his gran was right. Him and Cager couldn’t go look’in for the mort. But if they found ’er agin, ’e’d make sure she paid for killing his brother. This time ’e’d just put a hole in ’er like she did to Augie. He’d have ta find a pop first. Bart wished ’e knew which charity the mort was from. Meebe if they saw the same shaver he’d tell ’im.
“Go find me some’un to take Augie,” Gran ordered. “Then ye can go get another brat or two to save.”
Bart jerked his head for Cager to follow him. They went to the house of a night-soil man and left a message with his woman to come and take their brother. Then they went over to St Giles and started look’in and ask’in around fer more brats. They was never too hard to find.
CHAPTERTWELVE
The next morning Nate rose just before the sun and set out on a ride with Padraig prancing alongside the horse. As he did before, he roamed the Park, allowing Darragh to set the pace. The horse was recovering nicely from his journey to Town. As Nate was leaving, he saw the same two ladies he’d seen before. If it were not for the rules of Polite Society, it would have been easy to join them and introduce himself. But there were rules, and he was not in a position to break them. Still, he’d meet Miss Stern today. Tea might be hours away, but it would be to his benefit to wait. Then, with any luck, he might be able to speak with her the next time he saw her. If she didn’t reject him.
He turned toward the gate and home. He was glad his new boots had arrived yesterday. He wanted to make as good an impression as he could, especially if she knew what he’d done. But did she? It was hard to believe that if she knew she would still want to meet him. One way or the other, he’d find out soon.
After bathing and dressing, he headed to the breakfast room, where the scent of bacon seemed to drift on the air. Once again, his mother was before him.
“Good morning, dear.” She folded the newssheet she’d been reading and set it next to her plate on the table. “How was your ride?”
“Better than yesterday.” He went to the sideboard and found baked eggs topped with bacon and cheese. “At least I didn’t come home soaked.”
“Very true. I noticed the knocker had been put up.” A question lingered in her tone.
“Yes.” Nate added ham to his plate, took his seat, and pulled over a fresh rack of toast. “I had a visit from Lord Exeter. After that, I decided there was no point in not having it put up. Were you aware that his father, Papa’s acquaintance, had died?”
“Yes, I was. It took some time for the lawyers to find the new Lord Exeter. He had been on his Grand Tour. He arrived shortly after the last year’s Season began. I had the pleasure of meeting the new Exeter. He married Lady Dorcus Calthorp. The daughter of the Marquis of Huntingdon. It was her second Season, but I think it was worth the wait.”
Naturally, as the mother of three daughters who married well, Mama would think of the status of the gentlemen involved. A mother could easily forgive a daughter for not marrying in her first Season when her second or subsequent Season was so successful. He had been too young to remember much about his sisters’ Seasons. Yet, he thought he remembered that one of them had taken more than one Season to wed.
Nate thought about the look Exeter had on his face when he mentioned his wife. “He seems much taken with her.”
“It was one of the well-known love matches last spring.” Mama spread marmalade on a piece of toast and ate it.
Nate’s jaw almost dropped. Was this his mother? He remembered a time when she disapproved of love matches. “They don’t bother you?”
She waved another piece of toast in the air. This one, fortunately, did not have marmalade on it. “Not at all. I have come to understand the value in them. Provided, of course, the couple has fallen in love for the right reasons and to the right sort of person. It would not do, for example, for a lady to marry a man from the middling class or for a gentleman to marry a woman from St. Giles, for example. Unless there is an issue of money.” She gave him a pointed look. “That is a difficulty we do not have.”
“No, we do not.” Once Nate had found his way, he’d made sure that the viscounty was on firm footing. Something that neither his father nor his brother had done. “And we will not.”
“From what I have seen, many of the love matches are doing quite well.” She ate another piece of toast and some of her baked egg. “I do like the eggs prepared this way.”
While she’d been talking, he’d had a chance to finish one of his eggs and start on the other. “As do I. The bacon is particularly good.”
“I am glad you like it. It was a gift from a friend.” She tapped her fingers gently on the newssheet. “You do know that since the knocker is up, it will be reported that we are in Town.”
No. He’d not thought of that at all. “Perhaps people will think you are here by yourself, as you have been lately.”
She gave him a sardonic look. “Are you planning to become a hermit?”
