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Gladly, Grosvenor Square was near to eateries, so he grabbed his jacket, outer coat, and hat and left to find one. The sky was slate gray,and while no snow fluttered, the air was icily biting. He passed a few shops and came upon an eatery with the strong aroma of coffee and baked bread.
It did not take long for him to get seated and a warm cup of coffee and a plate heaped high with codded eggs, bacon, and thick buttered toast was settled before him.
What can I do to entice Esther to break the bonds of propriety?
There was only one place he knew where the classiest ladies left their gentility behind them, and that was the Pleasure Gardens of Vauxhall, but the Gardens were not open in Winter. As the idea came to him, he shelved it for hiscoup-de-graceif, somehow, he was able to take her there.He had to start somewhere, and Hyde Park was an excellent place to begin.
Finishing and paying for his meal, Felton made his way to Piccadilly and towards Hatchards. The bookshop smelled of cured leather, paper, and ink, and he meandered to the section of scandalous Gothic romance books that he knew women loved to read.
He was perusing the titles and came upon copies ofThe Castle of OtrantoandThe Progress of Romance.He was perusing the rows when an assistant came to him, polishing a monocle as he came.
“May I help you, Sir?” He asked. “Perhaps help you find a novel for your wife?”
Felton’s brow cocked high, “Beg your pardon? I’m not married.”
“My apologies,” the assistant replied, “Not many men linger in this section unless they are on an errand from their wives.”
“What is your newest and rarest acquisition?” Felton asked.
“We have one of the first published and a signed copy of all five volumes ofThe Countercharmby Miss Cuthbertson,” the man replied. “The price is fifty pounds.”
“Hold onto it,” Felton replied while not flinching about the veritable fortune that the book costed. “I’ll be back in a few days.”
“May I know your name, Sir?”
“Arthur Morgan,” Felton replied, “Captain of the Navy. And yours?”
A flash of awe ran over the man’s face, “Robert Krill, and y-yes, My Lord, I will have the book safe for you.”
Nodding, Felton left the book store and hurried to the apartment, stopping only to buy some provisions to keep him through the night and a newspaper. He would scan the advertisements the next day to find a valet and a cook because he did not want any connection with his family. As soon as his persona of Arthur Morgan disappeared, so would they.
Getting back to the house, he locked up behind him and placed his food on the table, removed his coat, and stroked the fire alive. After retrieving a pad of paper and a quill pen, he sunk into an armchair and began to plan because he had to act quickly.
***
A week later, with his house filled with a cook, maid, a footman, a new wardrobe, and his plan fixed for Esther in his mind, Felton sent a request to Lady Harewood for a visit; he felt sure that he would get a resounding acceptance.
“Your paper, My Lord,” the footman said with a bow.
“Thank you, Stevens,” Felton said while taking the folded paper.
He turned the pages slowly, noting the news coming out of the Crown was about the after-effects of the war. Most of the troops were out, but some were still stuck overseas, and his heart went out to them. Napoleon was exiled on Elba, his private kingdom, leaving the monarchs in Europe to tidy up the destruction he had left on the continent.
Unbidden, images of soldiers dying beside him flickered over his eyes, and he closed the paper with a sigh. Rubbing his suddenly tired eyes, Felton called for more coffee, “As black as you can make it, Miss Robbins.”
“Pardon me, My Lord,” the footman came back in with a card on a silver platter, “This was just received for you. It is from the Harewood house.”
The card had been sent out barely an hour ago, and suddenly, his day grew brighter. “Thank you.”
Taking the card, Felton opened it and smiled. Esther wrote that she was delighted to hear from him and thanked him, again, for the flowers. “I can come by this afternoon, precisely at one…perfect.”
He would quickly ride home and get another stem of white roses from his mother’s hothouse and carry it with him to meet Esther. He also needed to see how Catherine was doing and find out if she was still agonizing over the foolish Lord.
First, we’ll go to Hyde Park, then the book store, or whichever way it happens. I’m almost sure she likes those novels, and after I buy her the book with my name inscribed in, I’ll buy her sweets before taking her home.
He stood and took the card to his bed-chamber to rest it on the table before assembling his all-black suit. Plucking his pocket watch out, he looked at the time, noting that it was nearly ten o’clock, and he wondered why Esther had said to come precisely at one.
If her bird-witted brother is away, even better for me.
