AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Thirteen
The Black Dog was busy. It was after-hours for most professions, and thus, it was filled with working men, playing cards and drinking ale. Sometimes, those of noble lineage would “slum” there, but for the most part, it was merely a place for a good time.
“So,” Arthur said, his hands wrapped around a tankard of ale. “How are things going with your lady love?” Arthur was a tall, lanky fellow with pale golden hair and watery blue eyes. He had the air of intelligence. He and Charles had been close ever since their first year at Cambridge University. Arthur, too, was a barrister, and he shared offices with Charles.
“All is well,” Charles replied. “I mean, as well as they can be when you have to have your housekeeper transcribe letters so that they are in a feminine hand.”
“How, pray tell, are you going to break it to the Duke?” Arthur asked, taking a sip of his ale. It left a bit of foam on his upper lip, which was covered in a thin golden mustache.
“Your Grace, I am asking you for permission to court and marry your daughter?” Charles said, making an attempt. Perhaps Arthur could help him.
Arthur made a face. “You should probably bring your finances as proof that you have money with which to support her.”
Charles wrinkled his nose. “That seems a bit—”
Arthur waved his hand in the air impatiently. “I know, but he likely thinks that you live in Cheapside.”
“He does not,” Charles replied. The Duke had sent him letters to his residence, a townhouse in a very nice middle-class neighborhood. He was located less than a street away from where many members of the ton lived, for Christ’s sake.
“That’s what they all think,” Arthur replied. He, too, worked for the gentlemen of the ton. He specialized in commercial law.
“You don’t think—” Charles broke off, a little horrified at what Arthur was suggesting.
“He’ll presume it,” he stated flatly. “You remember that time I looked at an Earl’s daughter the wrong way once. He caught me looking and told me that his daughter could never live in Cheapside.”
“Was that the Earl of Standish?” he asked, recalling the incident. Arthur nodded, taking another sip of his drink. “So, you think that I don’t have a chance?”
“Not in the slightest, my good friend,” Arthur replied. “Thinking logically, and I’m saying this because I do not want you to make a fool of yourself, that I think you’ve lost your mind.” He counted on his fingers as he listed. “Meeting in secret, writing letters in secret, declaring your love for each other in secret and without permission—”
“But I will get permission,” Charles pointed out. He wanted Arthur to be happy for him. Instead, he was arguing that he was being…of all things, silly. “The Duke allows Lady Arabella to do as she chooses. He’s told her that he wants her to marry for love.”
“Oh, no—you’re mistaken, my friend,” Arthur said. “Just like the rest of his kind, he will want his daughter to marry a gentleman. And, unfortunately, as well-off as you are, your blood does not run blue.” Arthur finished his drink. “Another?”
Charles nodded. Arthur raised his hand, gesturing for the barkeep to bring them two more ales. Charles finished the one that he was drinking.
“That being said, you could, perhaps marry the daughter of a lesser noble—a viscount, maybe—but a Duke’s daughter?” He grimaced and shrugged at the same time, looking for all the world like a gremlin. “You have a better chance at marrying one of God’s angels.”
“She’s better than an angel,” Charles replied. “She’s stubborn and outspoken, and she beat me at fencing, Arthur.”
“Then she is too good for you, by far,” Arthur mused. “I can see that you’ve lost far more than a fencing bout to her, though.”
Charles smiled. He had, in fact. The barkeep set down their drinks. Charles paid for the round. As he sipped his drink, he considered what Arthur had said. He might just be right.
He could only hope that Arabella knew her father as well as she claimed. She had been certain that he would see it her way. The unconventional means of her upbringing had given him cause for hope. But what if they were mistaken? Suddenly, he had an awful, creeping doubt.
* * *
Arabella waited for her father to go out. She posted herself in the drawing room that was near to the stairs. She left the door ajar. From there, she could hear anyone going out via the front door.
She heard the sounds of heavy boots, going down the stairs. She peered out, to see her father. He turned, catching her peeking out of the door.
“Where are you going, Pappa?” she asked. He smiled, their earlier, heated conversation forgotten.
“I’m headed out for a ride. Care to join me?” he asked.
“I’m going to take a rest,” she replied. “I want to have my energy for Lady Downton’s party.”
“Quite right, my sweet,” he said. She stood on the landing, listening as he spoke to the butler. When the door closed after him, she walked as quickly as she dared, up to the third floor.
