Burke shrugged. “You do seem well-suited,” he said. “She is as…cool…as you are. And you cannot claim she is not a beauty.”
“I do not deny it,” Charles said. “Though I will point out there are beauties everywhere to behold and most of them causing far less trouble than a lady of theton.”
“Do they cause less trouble though?” Burke asked. “Marberry told me your last light o’ love threw you out when the money dried up.”
Charles did not answer. It was true that the actress he had spent a few pleasant months with had not been over-sympathetic in discovering that jewelry and rent were no longer to be forthcoming. She’d moved on to a more fertile field and he’d not been particularly broken up about it.
In any case, he had a far bigger problem on his hands. How to circumvent his father’s orders without losing a large chunk of his inheritance to mealy-mouthed Herbert Conway?
He could not say he was opposed to Miss Danworth’s company. She was one of the more interesting and intelligent ladies of his acquaintance. She did not fan herself or pretend at delicacy or engineer false laughter. She was not always working hard to be gay, as if all the world was a marvelous place. She was alsoexceedinglypleasant to look at.
He also could not claim that finding a comfortable place to reside for a few months, until he could make the rounds of shooting parties, would be so very terrible. What he was to do with the lady when the shooting started, he knew not, though he supposed he could drag her along from place to place. None of it was insurmountable.
However, what hewasopposed to was this flagrant attempt to push him into a marriage by hook or by crook.
How little his own parents understood him! He would never marry. He would never bring life into the world. Not when he’d seen what men at war could do.
As it often did when he thought about the war, the scar that ran down his cheek began to burn. He could smell the smoke and the metallic stench of blood running into the ground. And then, as always, his memories led him back to Quatre Bras—that place that would never leave him in peace.
The battle had ended and the night had been cold. He’d lain in his tent, but despite the weariness of his limbs he could not sleep. The sounds of drunken men celebrating king-sanctioned murder while corpses lay rotting just a mile off had never disturbed before. After a battle, he’d been in the habit of forgetting, or reminding himself that it was war, or that it was a matter of survival—it was either the enemy or himself. That night, the whoops and howls, roars and curses, laughter and back-slapping seemed to surround his tent as if the gates of hell had opened. Closing his eyes did not erase what he had seen or what he had done. As if the tableau was still before him, two eyes filled with abject terror stared unblinking and final, terrible words were whispered. He’d watched it in his mind’s eye like a play, over and over again as the night wore on.
Sometime near dawn, the awful truth of humanity had stolen over him. They were all animals. They might drape themselves in fine fabrics and hold sway over the kingdom of beasts, but they were little better than well-dressed wolves. They were bloodthirsty predators—the war had simply allowed them to shrug off the sheen of civility they’d pretended at.
He had vowed that night that he would never indulge himself to bring in what he’d had a hand in taking out—a life. If one wished to be better than a beast, a price must be paid. He was determined to pay it. He would not create more men who would be sent to war and be turned into raging beasts.
“Now you have drifted far away,” Burke said, pulling Charles back to his library and the present day.
“I was just thinking,” Charles said.
Burke rose and said, “I will leave you, so you may think in peace. I am sure this will be a difficult matter to mull over.”
“There is nothing to mull, I have decided,” Charles said. “I will not allow one sovereign that is rightfully mine to go to Herbert Conway.”
Lord Burke smiled. “Your father will be delighted, and poor Herbert devastated.”
“I think I will go to Ramsgate, since you will also be there. If I am to be saddled with Miss Danworth, I might as well become acquainted with your precious Minkertons and you will be on hand to entertain me when I become too dull. In any case, it sounds a deal better than a run-down estate in Shropshire—Bellamy would be useless in a house that needed any real work done to it.”
“And so Bellamy comes to Ramsgate,” Lord Burke said softly. “I hope Childress has left an extensive wine cellar.”
Chapter Two
The house in Grosvenor Square was as it had never been before. The heaviness was gone, and Daisy felt as if she could finally breathe. One would have thought, seeing the black curtains in every front window, that the interior would be gloomy. The windows facing the back garden, however, had all been thrown open to let in sun and air. Daisy and Mrs. Jellops had taken to using a sitting room facing that garden to have their tea.
The days following her father’s demise had been chaotic. A hatchment was attached above the front doors, a minister secured and mourners hired, Daisy and Mrs. Jellops were fitted for dour mourning clothes, announcements were made in the newspapers, and personal notices were written. Though, as Daisy applied the dark wax to each black-bordered missive, she wondered who among the receivers of the news would weep.
There were a hundred other details to attend to and her father’s librarian, Mr. Crackwilder, was instrumental in seeing that all got done properly. Though he was soon to be Lady Grayson’s librarian, his last act for her was to ensure that the valuable Palaskar collection of books was safely moved to the Shropshire estate.
A funeral service, which she blessedly did not have to attend, was given. The minister had explained that though ladies did not usually attend the service, there was nothing in the church teachings that forbid it. He’d wondered if she had strong feelings about saying a last farewell to her father. Of course, her feelingswererather strong, though she did not dare reveal their joyfulness. Rather, she’d said she did not trust herself to stay upright during such a proceeding. The minister had nodded knowingly and appeared relieved. He could not possibly have been more relieved than she was.
The funeral was about as well attended as she would have expected. Lord Childress’ few close cronies made an appearance and arrived drunk, according to one of the church wardens. However, those who had nodded to the lord on the street or gambled with him at his club, or invited him to large affairs, stayed away. They may have wished to keep the peace with the bad-tempered gentleman while he lived but felt no compunction to honor him now that he was dead.
The committal was to take place in their own churchyard in Shropshire. Daisy was vastly relieved to see the body finally leave the house covered in heaps of flowers to overwhelm the smell of decay. It had lain in the drawing room for some days like a constant threat. She and Mrs. Jellops had slept in the same bed every night he remained downstairs, in case his ghost struggled out of his body and came to terrorize them.
Her father’s solicitor enlightened them as to Lord Childress’ will, and of course it was as meanspirited as the man himself. He left Daisy nothing from his unentailed property, not even her mother’s jewelry, though he left all sorts of insults to be paid out. Lord Grey was to get one shilling as a testament to his miserly habits at the club, and a feather duster was to be purchased and handed to Mr. Johnson in recognition of his weak and ineffectual nature. Daisy had not been disappointed in any of it as she had not expected any other result. Shewassurprised that the Duke of Glastonburg had consented to be her guardian, but she supposed she would not mind spending her mourning period on his estate.
As to the items in the house that were now rightfully owned by the duke, quite a few of them had fled in the pockets of the butler and housekeeper, who had run off together. Though it meant the loss of a good amount of silver, Daisy was not sorry to see them go. They were miserable creatures, both of them, and deserved one another.
Of course, it was rather difficult to go on without those two senior servants. Daisy had not the first idea what was to be done about dinners or what the maids ought to be doing all day. Considering the recent quality of the dinners, she knew well enough they took advantage of her ignorance. Mrs. Jellops did what she could with them, but they were all soon to be out of employment and so they were not particularly awed by the lady’s directives. They might have revolted entirely if Daisy had not held back their letters of recommendation until they began answering advertisements.
