Page 6 of Debtor’s Daughter

Chapter 2

Dear diary,

I believe we are safe for now, but I wake most nights with bad dreams, terrified I will hear a fist hammering on the door and that horrid man demanding I honour my father’s debt.

How can it be honourable for him to ask me to sacrifice myself and dishonourable for me to deny him? Oh, Papa, why did you do this to us? We were so happy before, why did you spoil everything?

――Excerpt of an entry from Caroline ‘Caro’ Merrivale to her diary.

17th September 1850, Berwick Street, Soho, London.

“Barnes!” Larkin called as he strode back into the house, setting down his hat and gloves.

“Sir?”

Barnes appeared in the hallway, immaculate as always.

“Which of my mother’s cronies is in town at present?”

Barnes considered this. Larkin had long ago given up figuring out how Barnes came by his information, but the fellow seemed to be the fount of all knowledge which was a useful talent in a valet, though Barnes did far more than valet, acting as butler, secretary, and often cook too.

“I believe the Montagus have been in town this summer, which is unusual, but seeing as Dern is so close, they can come and go for a few weeks here and there. I heard tell the marquess had been working with Mr Knight on some project that required their attention. He don’t go nowhere without Lady Montagu, so I reckon she’s here if his lordship is.”

Larkin nodded. “Send a note to Pip, tell him I’ll be calling on him in the morning. Now, I’ve given the angelic antichrist his ball, there’s half a chance I might have a few hours' peace. I am not to be disturbed, Barnes, is that clear?”

“Quite clear, sir,” Barnes agreed, and then his eyebrows rose in enquiry as the door knocker sounded.

“I’ll get it,” Larkin said with a sigh.

Quite prepared to tell whoever it was get lost, he snatched the door open and then laughed as he saw who was standing there.

“Speak of the devil,” he said, grinning at the Earl of Ashburton, who looked his cool and precise best as usual.

“Taking my name in vain, Lars?” the earl drawled, one pale eyebrow rising in an expression so familiar from his formidable sire that Larkin was struck with the sudden urge to apologise for something. He didn’t know what, but Montagu had that effect on a fellow.

“I just told Barnes to write you a note, but you’ve saved me a journey. Come in.”

Larkin held the door open and asked Barnes to bring coffee.

“Well, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“I came to see what all the fuss is about, for I’m hearing from all sides that you’re the fellow to watch so I thought I’d see for myself. I’ve been wanting to get a portrait done of Tilly, now there’s half a chance she’ll sit still for more than a minute at a time. Figured I had best get in before the rest of the world did.”

“Oh,” Larkin said, pleased. “Well, I’d be happy to, but you’d best come through to the studio if you want to see the latest work. For heaven’s sake, don’t touch anything,” he added, eyeing Pip’s exquisite tailoring with alarm. “I don’t want a bill for getting paint off your sleeve.”

“I think I can manage, Mama,” Pip replied dryly, gesturing for Larkin to lead on.

Feeling suddenly a little anxious, Larkin went to his studio, and the newly finished portrait of Lady Cara Latimer. He turned it for Pip to look over and then stood back beside his friend. It was a stunning portrait, if he did say so himself, but then the subject matter had been exceptional too. Lady Cara’s fiery red hair and lively blue eyes made her an easily recognisable figure among the ton. Beautiful and rather outspoken, the portrait captured her energy, a naughty sense of mischief, and her innate kindness.

Larkin glanced at Pip nervously. Ashburton was known for his exquisite taste, for being a man who accepted nothing less than perfection. Like his sire, his reputation was one of a cold, haughty man who did not suffer fools. Larkin knew much of this was simply the aura he wrapped himself in, a way of keeping the rest of the world at arm’s length, but all the same….

“It’s exceptional.”

Larkin let out a breath and Pip turned his cool gaze towards him, his pale eyes amused. “Did you think I couldn’t see it?”

“One never knows,” Larkin said with a laugh. “The eye of the beholder and all that.”

“I’m flattered to think my opinion matters to you,” Pip said with a smile.