Margaret Moore (13 page)

“If Martlebury’s in Newgate, how will I get paid?”

“Ah!” Jack nodded his approval and let go. “So Cheddersby doesn’t know he’s goin’ to have a shadow?”

“No, and I don’t want him to know.”

“Martlebury wouldn’t take kindly to your tender care for his rival, neither, would he?”

“It would not be in Sir Philip’s best interest to harm Lord Cheddersby.”

“Well, you know me, Rob. More of a shadow than a shadow ever was.”

“Aye, Jack,” Rob replied with a rueful grin. “I remember.”

“Now how about a spot o’ fun? Care t’ make a little wager? I’ll take Wiggy Jones’s bird for a shilling.”

“And then you’ll no doubt take me for more,” Rob answered with a low laugh. “I haven’t been around the cockpit in years. I’d be a fool to bet against you.”

Jack’s eyes gleamed in the dim light, and when he spoke, his voice was full of good humor. “Aye, you would. How be three-to-one odds, eh?”

“Good night, Jack,” Rob said with a wry smile as he turned to go. As he moved forward, his smile quickly disappeared, for he was anxious to get out into the cleaner night air, away from the pressing bodies and even more oppressive stench.

Nevertheless, he glanced back, intending to wave farewell to his friend. Jack, however, was already busy placing his bet.

*   *   *

At noon the next day, as the maids cleared the table and set out fruit for the final course, Uncle Elias smiled at Vivienne.

He had been smiling at her quite frequently during the meal, and she was beginning to feel nervous.

“You seem happy, Uncle,” she finally ventured before the stress became unendurable.

“I am.” Giving her another beatific smile, he leaned back in his chair. “I received an invitation this morning.” “Oh?”

“Lord Cheddersby has invited us to his fete.”

Vivienne tried to look enthused. “Oh?”

“Yes. All the most important people in London will be there, I’m sure. Perhaps even the king.”

“And the queen?”

Her uncle frowned. “Yes, and maybe the queen.”

“Or Lady Castlemaine—certainly plenty of people who need fabric.”

“Exactly. And he spoke of you in the highest terms. ‘Your lovely niece’ was the exact expression.”

She smiled weakly. “Indeed?”

“Perhaps you will be more pleased with the honor he does you when you see his new house. It is a veritable palace, they say.”

“I’ve heard Lettice describe it so.”

“If the king is there, we must do our best to seek him out. Charles seemed most intrigued by you, my dear. You are a very pretty young woman, so that is perfectly understandable. And if he chooses you, you will be well rewarded.”

“You persist in thinking there was something special about the attention he paid me?”

“I most certainly do.”

“And thus you still believe I have the ‘opportunity’ to become yet another of the king’s whores?”

Uncle Elias frowned. “That is a crude way to put it.”

“It is the appropriate word. After all, by ‘reward’ you mean payment for services rendered, do you not?”

Her uncle’s brows lowered in a scowl. “Vivienne, you claim you are not a child anymore, so don’t think like one. If Martlebury or even Cheddersby suggested such a thing, naturally I would be upset. But we are talking of the king. If Charles likes you, you will be mistress of the most powerful man in the kingdom—and he is a very generous man. You will have a house, a title or two in all likelihood, and plenty of money.”

“You would call that a fair exchange for my virtue?” she demanded.

Before he could answer, one of the maids appeared at the door. “If you please, Mr. Burroughs, that lawyer’s here to see you. Mr. Harding.”

Vivienne felt her face flush with excitement, and she quickly looked down at the linen tablecloth.

“Is he? Show him to the withdrawing room,” Uncle Elias said as he rose. “He must have the preliminary draft of the settlement.”

She likewise stood. “May I come with you, Uncle, and hear what it says?”

“I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with that document.”

“I would rather be married than a man’s mistress.”

“I see. This is not the final version, not by a long ways,” he replied warily, obviously not sure what to think about her sudden interest. “You won’t be signing this.”

“Nevertheless, I would like to understand something of what will happen to my dowry if we decide I should marry Sir Philip, after all. Don’t you think I should?”

“Well,” Uncle Elias mused as he strolled to the door, “perhaps you should. I will not live forever, and you should have some notion of what is legally yours according to the settlement—if you marry.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

Together they went to the withdrawing room, and the moment she saw Rob standing so grave near the windows, happiness and heat combined within her.

Perhaps only she, of all the women in London, knew that a fiercely passionate man existed within that seemingly cool and reserved frame.

“Mr. Burroughs, Mistress Burroughs,” Rob said evenly as he bowed.

“Good day, Harding, good day,” her uncle cried, hurrying toward him. Vivienne hung back, determined not to betray to her uncle the emotions Rob invoked in her. “I gather you have brought the first draft of the settlement.”

“Yes, sir, I have,” Rob replied, pointing at the document already unrolled on the table beside him. There was a quill and ink at the ready, too.

“Excellent!” Uncle Elias glanced back at Vivienne. “I’ve decided to let my niece have a look at it and explain something of the terms.”

“A very wise decision, Mr. Burroughs. I would more of my clients took the trouble to have their families informed of their legal matters.”

Uncle Elias smiled and his chest swelled with pride. “I’faith, sir, I am not a fool, and neither is my niece. Besides, everybody knows how clever you legal fellows can be, eh?” He chortled and gestured for Vivienne to come closer.

She did so, acutely aware that Rob was looking at her, and that while his expression might not convey much to her uncle, she could see Rob’s regard for her deep in his dark eyes.

Her uncle took a chair at the table, and she another.

“Won’t you sit, Mr. Harding?”

“Thank you.” He sat beside Vivienne, so close that if she put out her hand, she could touch him.

She struggled to calm her breathing—and not to touch him.

“Now, Vivienne,” Uncle Elias began as if she were a simpleton, “we have it as follows: Your dowry goes to your husband, but remains in trust, so that neither you nor your husband can draw on the principle. You, and you alone, are free to specify who shall inherit the principle upon your death. During your life, the interest naturally goes to your husband.”

“What if I have need of the principle?”

“What could you possibly need the principle for?” her uncle demanded. “Sir Philip is not a pauper.”

“I can think of several things. My husband may gamble away the interest, and all the rest of his own money. If he has control of the interest and I no other income, how would I be able to live?”

Uncle Elias looked at Rob and raised an eyebrow.

“We could amend it that your niece could draw on the principle if she needs it, or receive a sum from the principle yearly.”

“A yearly sum payable directly to me, or to my husband?”

“Directly to you,” Rob replied, looking at her with a steadfast gaze.

“But that would erode the principle,” Uncle Elias protested.

“What good will the principle do me if I and any children I may bear are reduced to living in poverty?”

“I must concede that is an excellent point, Mr. Burroughs,” Robert said. “Your niece would make a fine attorney, I think.”

Uncle Elias threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, yes, a woman attorney! What next—a woman physician? A female judge?”

“Who better than a woman to ensure that women and children are protected and considered?” Vivienne said.

“Again, your niece makes a fine point. And I must tell you, Mr. Burroughs, that I have seen this very situation. Indeed, I have gone to court to argue against such settlements, to allow a woman to get at money intended for her use, but not clearly stated as such.”

“And won, too, eh?”

“After a long battle. In the meantime, the woman and her children suffered greatly.”

“Vivienne could always come to me.”

“If you are alive and able to help financially. I think I need hardly point out to a man of your business experience that the future is never secure. There could be a war or natural disaster that has a serious impact on your trade, or some other catastrophe. Indeed, Mr. Burroughs, from what I understand of your business, it is even dependent on such intangibles as ladies’ tastes in fashion.”

Uncle Elias frowned, but he didn’t deny it.

“It would be in your best interest to think of every contingency. Or is it your intention to leave other money to your niece in your will?”

“What I put in my will is none of your business, or Martlebury’s, either.”

“Perhaps not. However, let me caution you that one should make one’s wishes very clear in a will. Otherwise, it may be open to interpretation, and therefore languish in chancery for a very long time.”

Uncle Elias looked at him suspiciously. “Harding, you are very free with your advice to a man who isn’t your client.”

“As I have said, Mr. Burroughs, I have seen cases drag on for years in the court. In those situations, no one really comes out the victor, for too much of the money is lost during the proceedings. I would prefer that your will be clear to save possible controversy that could very well involve your niece’s husband. If that man is to be Sir Philip, it is my task to ensure that he does not become embroiled in chancery if at all possible.”

“Ah,” Uncle Elias said with a sigh. “So you think Vivienne should have access to the principle?”

“Perhaps in some manner.”

“What if her husband forces her to give him the money?”

“We shall have to hope that does not occur, and I think, Mr. Burroughs, it would be safe to say from what I have seen of your niece,” Rob replied, his voice altering ever so slightly, “that any man would have a very difficult time compelling her to do anything against her will.”

“Yes, yes, I believe you’re right,” Uncle Elias acquiesced, while Vivienne hid her smile.

Philip wouldn’t admire that sort of sovereignty, and it would probably throw Lord Cheddersby into nervous confusion. In fact, she could think of no other man of her acquaintance who would think her wish for even that much independence a thing to applaud.

“Uncle, where does it say how much you are giving me for my dowry?”

He pointed to a line on the parchment, and her jaw dropped with surprise. “Five thousand pounds?” she breathed. “So much? I had no idea.”

“Naturally Mistress Burroughs herself is prize enough for any man,” Rob said. His tone held no hint of his affection for her, but she felt it nonetheless. “However, Sir Philip is well aware of the value of his title.”

“Mr. Burroughs, sir?”

They all looked at the door, to see the foreman from the business below standing there. “A word, if you please, about the bobbins, sir.”

Uncle Elias got to his feet. “Excuse me a moment, will you? We’ve bought some new pieces for the machines and I fear we’ve been tricked by a clever talker. They keep breaking.” He surveyed Rob with a measuring gaze. “I might need a solicitor to take the blackguard to court. Maybe you would be so kind, eh?”

It was all Vivienne could do to hide her happy smile. If her uncle suggested this, there was cause to hope he would not disapprove of Rob as a suitor for his niece.

There was the problem of Rob’s current lack of wealth, but surely Uncle Elias could believe, as she did, that it was only a matter of time before he had more affluent clients.

When that happened, however, she didn’t doubt he would continue to represent the poor, too. The importance of that work, and his passion for their plight, burned too brightly within him.

“If I am able to, I would be pleased to represent you,” Rob replied, and she heard his genuine delight.

“Excellent! I shall return shortly.”

“In the meantime, I will explain the entail of Sir Philip’s estate to your niece.”

Vivienne’s hand crept slowly under the table. “There is no need to rush, Uncle,” she said as she captured Rob’s hand in hers. “Since I am a woman, no doubt it will take a while for me to comprehend.”

Her uncle’s expression told her he agreed before he turned and hurried off. Leaving them alone.

“F
inally I can touch you,” Vivienne said quietly, delighting in the feel of Rob’s strong hand in hers. “I have been wanting to ever since I came into the room.”

He gave her one of his rare smiles.

“I told you he could very well find you acceptable,” she noted.

“As a lawyer, perhaps,” he replied. “I am less confident of my success if I were to announce myself hopeful of earning your love.”

His fingers caressed her hand, and that alone was enough to make it difficult for her to breathe normally. “I do not think earning my love will be difficult for you.”

His enticing lips curved slowly upward. “No?”

She shook her head. “No. In fact, Mr. Harding, I believe you captured my heart that night in Bankside.”

He leaned closer and her heart thundered in her chest. “Rob,” he reminded her.

“Rob,” she whispered, lifting her face in anticipation of his kiss.

He put his powerful arms about her and she held her breath.

Below, a door slammed.

He started and moved back, breathing as hard as she. He ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “About the entail—”

“I don’t want to hear about any entails,” she said softly. “If you are not going to kiss me, I would rather hear about you.”

“Your uncle might ask you questions about Sir Philip’s estate when he returns.”

“In that case, he will believe that it was indeed too complicated for me to comprehend.”

“I don’t see how he could. It’s quite obvious you’re intelligent, and this entail is not very convoluted.”

“Not everyone is as open-minded as you when it comes to the intelligence of women.”