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“Of course! That is how I start, but then I give them to Mr Ogilvy and he prints them to sell. It makes me a little money, you see, and—”
“You do this formoney?”he cried. “What nonsense is this? No lady does anything for money, and you will certainly not do so when you are my wife.”
She took a breath, as if to speak, then licked her lips, frowning. “Are you serious? Are you truly going to be so Gothic about this?”
“It is hardly Gothic to want my wife to be respectable, and not shame me by engaging in paid employment. This will have to stop, Eloise.”
“Will it, indeed!” she said, lifting her head, eyes flashing.
And so saying, she spun on her heel and stalked away.
23: Rumour And Speculation
Will could hardly speak, he was so angry. Eloise composing music was one thing, but Eloise selling her music to a publisher for public sale, and being paid for it… that was something else altogether. It was unconscionable! How could any respectable woman engage in such behaviour?
And yet… all those novels his sisters read, many of which were written by women. Poetry, too. Not learned works, perhaps, but women were perfectly capable of writing well. So why not music? Was it possible that Eloise was another Beethoven or Bach? And if she had such a talent, how could he stand in her way?
He sulked in the card room for half an hour, playing very poorly, since his head was full of Eloise, and eventually he gave it up. As he was leaving to return to the ballroom, he found the vivid waistcoat of Lord Humphrey Marford blocking his way, flanked by a couple of other men.
“Fletcher! Well met, my friend,” Lord Humphrey said, with a genial smile. “Have you met my brothers? Gus here is your man if you want to know anything about horses, and Monty is the family parson.”
Lord Gus was another tall man, although not so imposing as Lord Humphrey, while Lord Monty was slender, black-clad as befitted his profession.
“My lords,” Will murmured. “So many brothers!”
“Six of us altogether,” Lord Monty said. “Father was taking no chances with the succession.”
“That must be fun,” Will said. “I have five sisters, but only one brother… well, one and a half, to be precise.”
“We have a few halves, too,” Lord Gus said, “but only one full sister.”
“And that is one too many,” Lord Humphrey said firmly. “Might we have a word, Fletcher?”
Lord Humphrey steered Will deftly into another room and closed the door. While Lord Monty lit candles and Lord Gus poured something — brandy, by the look of it — into glasses, Will had time to become nervous. Despite the friendly smiles and the brandy, all three looked as if they would be handy in a mill, and they were, after all, the brothers of a marquess, who could crush an insignificance like Will under their heels like a beetle if they chose.
“Well now, Fletcher, there is a strange tale circulating in the clubs,” Lord Humphrey said.
Now Will was seriously alarmed, for the least whisper of a scandal could damage Rosie’s prospects. “About my sister?”
“About you, Fletcher, and Miss Whittleton.”
That was puzzling. But knowing no grounds for any scandal, Will said lightly, “If it were not presumptuous in me to offer you advice, my lord, I might suggest that you not listen to gossip.”
“One takes no notice as a rule, naturally,” Lord Humphrey said, taking a long draught of brandy and practically emptying the glass. “Rumour and speculation is rife everywhere, and one must rise above it. However, in this case, Lord Carrbridge wishes us to ensure that such unpleasantness is… dealt with, shall we say.”
“What precisely is the unpleasantness in question?” Will said carefully.
“That Miss Whittleton, being a penniless but resourceful young lady, and observing you to be an agreeable young man, not to mention being excessively plump in the pocket, did induce you into a compromising situation such that you, being a gentleman, were obliged to offer for her, but are now attempting to extricate yourself by dallying with other young ladies. An affecting tale, is it not? So much so that there are those who suspect you started the rumour yourself.”
“I did nothing of the sort!” Will exclaimed.
“No, no, we know that,” Lord Montague said soothingly. “We know who it was who set this hare running.”
“Who was it?” Will said. “I should like to have words with that gentleman.”
“It is not true, then?” Lord Humphrey said.
“Of course not! As if Miss Whittleton—” He stopped abruptly, realising that he could not honestly protest that she was incapable of such deceit. The details were not precisely correct, but the essence was true. And yet, no one knew of it, except Pa and Johnny and the lady herself, and it seemed unlikely that Eloise would tell anyone how she had tricked him. “Who would say such a thing?” he said, frowning. “Andwhy?”
