Читать книгу Reckless in Pink - Lynne Connolly - Страница 9

Aware of her family’s exaggerated need to protect her and the other women, Claudia refused to go out with her mother the next morning, pleading a stomachache. She’d used the same excuse the night before, when she’d arrived home on her own. Dominic had left her at the end of the square until she knocked and went in. He made her feel safe, but that could be an entirely false premise.

When he arrived, he was in full society mode. Blue today, not a dark shade, but a vivid ultramarine tone. His breeches were as white as snow and his waistcoat embroidered in gold. She was too far away to see the design. As he handed his hat and the ridiculous cane as tall as he was to the footman, bright gold caught the sun and dazzled her.

When she blinked the light out of her eyes, he was looking up at her. She must have made a sudden move and alerted his attention. No point hiding now.

Claudia hurried down the stairs, trailing her hand lightly on the banister. “Did you think to find me away from home?” she said brightly. “Strange how insistent my mother was that I attend her this morning. That was just after my father let slip that you were visiting to discuss the house on Hart Street. I suspect my brother asked her to ensure I was out of the way.” She smiled saucily. “Well, as you can see, I am not.”

“You’re appearing to great advantage,” he said.

He didn’t mean her clothes. She could tell by the way he looked over her, taking in her bosom, today respectably covered with a linen fichu. He’d seen it uncovered, or part of it at any rate. The knowledge made her heat up.

“I love that blush,” he murmured.

She turned away, employing her fan to cool her complexion. She thought she’d controlled her reprehensible habit of blushing at the least provocation. The easy capacity to blush came with her coloring and that damned pale skin. “We should go to the study. They’re all waiting.”

She led the way but refused to take his arm.

The study was rather crowded, containing as it did, not only her oldest brother Marcus, Lord Malton, but her father, Val, and Darius. None of them were smiling.

Marcus glared at her. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I have a right to know what you’re discussing.” Claudia worked hard not to push her lower lip out as she had as a child. As soon as she said it, she felt like a child. How else to assert her rights? She tried again. “Let me make this clear. I have the last word on what happens to that house. My great-aunt said so when she made her will. Anything else would go against her desires.”

“How about if we discuss the matter and then inform you of the best path to take?”

She shook her head. “I want to hear the options.”

Glumly, Marcus got to his feet and brought his chair to her side of the desk. Putting up her chin, she thanked him and sat. It put her at a disadvantage, having to look up to the others in the room, but she had no choice.

To her shock, Dominic stepped up to stand by her side. “It seems reasonable that the owner is involved in any decision taken.”

Val glanced up from the papers strewn across Marcus’s desk. “She’s been anything but reasonable recently.”

“Maybe because you insist on treating me like a witless female.”

Dominic’s support had affected her more than she realized. Tears threatened, but they would prove her father and brothers’ opinion of her. She had behaved badly recently, last night the culmination of a series of escapades, but her aunt’s legacy had helped her decide what she really wanted. To be her own woman, to have men regard her as a sensible person and not a featherheaded fool.

Not to be bored any more. Her sister enjoyed reading and study—that was her escape. Livia spent as much time with her nose in a book as she spent begrudgingly attending balls and society events.

While Claudia was reasonably well-read, her passion didn’t lie there. Sensing the man at her side, she feared “passion” might describe what she wanted exactly. Which was a shame. As a well-born protected young woman, she was unlikely to find that this side of marriage. She wasn’t nearly ready to marry anyone yet.

While her brothers voiced their protests, her father held up his hand. When that didn’t work, he yelled, “Quiet!” in a tone so stentorian it would have stopped the whole of the House of Lords in its tracks.

It took her brothers a minute to wind down, but eventually silence fell.

“Since she’s here, Claudia may as well have a say. You are feeling well enough, my dear?”

His solicitous smile fooled nobody, least of all Claudia. She had not been ill, and her stomach pains of last night mere fabrication. She prayed he wouldn’t discover where she’d really been.

Tension tightened her stomach. Would Dominic tell them about her escapade? She glanced at him. He sent her a reassuring smile that told her nothing. She was in his hands, if not literally, figuratively. He could ruin her chances of being treated as an adult.

“I had the carriage drive past the house yesterday,” she said. “It’s a modest establishment.” She sighed. “I fear I couldn’t live there. I could rent it out.”

Her father shoved some papers across the scarred surface of the desk. “Read those while I ascertain why Lord St. Just saw fit to visit us this morning.”

“It’s about the house,” he said, “or I wouldn’t have intruded.”

Claudia picked up the first paper. Her hand trembled. Would he tell them? “I wouldn’t have thought such a modest establishment would interest you, my lord.”

If he detected the warning in her tone, he ignored it. “I think the information you have will explain my presence here.”

It would. Silently she handed him the first paper while she read the next one. The note informed Lord Strenshall that the suspicious activity concerning the house in Hart Street was confirmed. That was all. The second sheet was damning. It recorded the activities of one CJES, who could be none other than Charles James Edward Stuart on his visit to London two years ago. The address in Hart Street featured three times.

“Explain.” Lord Strenshall leaned back in the chair.

Marcus leaned against the bookcase behind him, while Val and Darius stood to one side.

Sometimes she hated that her family members were all so damned intelligent. She could never slip any subterfuge past them, although she’d tried often enough.

Dominic still stood close to her. He took the second document when she gave it to him.

Claudia took her time reading all six documents. They told a similar story. The house was a place where known Jacobites met. The authorities were leaving it alone because it was a useful fount of knowledge. They had not tried to infiltrate it or let the occupants know that they knew about it. But it had been a hotbed of sedition for at least five years.

Now it belonged to Claudia.

Dominic dropped the papers back on the desk. “I’m working for the government,” he said.

“Does that mean you’ll report anything we decide back to your masters?” Val shoved a hand into the pocket of his dark brown coat.

Dominic showed no alarm, even though Val could have his hand wrapped around a weapon. He put one hand on the back of her chair, as if protecting her. The gesture made her feel absurdly safe.

Today Dominic was all dandy, but she didn’t assume his foppishness was anything but faked. Perhaps he was a little less primped than he’d been the other day, his clothes less gaudy, maroon rather than crimson, buff rather than blinding white. He smelled the same, of citrus and clean male virility, reminding her vividly of what must lie beneath the clothes. He was all powerful male. She wanted him with a rawness that shocked her.

He took his time answering Val. “Not necessarily. I don’t obey orders blindly. I never have.”

Lord Strenshall grunted. “That must have made you an interesting soldier.”

“At times an army needs an officer who can think for himself.”

The pressure on her chair increased, tilting her slightly toward him. She would have gone to him, but the notion of a room full of angry males did not appeal.

“Why are you working for the government?” Marcus snapped.

Dominic turned his head to address Marcus directly. “Because I worked for them before, and this method keeps me informed. I prefer to have a say in what happens in my country. I believe we are in a state of flux, and if we’re not careful, we could find ourselves plunged back into civil war. The present monarch believes in consultation. We have taught him the value of it, and once Pandora’s Box is opened, it cannot be sealed again. Even if the Stuarts return, they would not be an absolute monarchy.” Even to say that much was treason, but nobody in the room appeared surprised at the statement. Dominic even garnered a few nods. “I believe that, for all their talk of sharing, that is what they want.”

Silence fell, but not for long. That pause was telling, allowing everyone to think over what he said, although Claudia had heard similar discussions over the breakfast table. Only en famille, though. They probably went to White’s and discussed everything, but she doubted it.

“Maybe I should start an exclusive club for ladies in Hart Street.”

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until Dominic snorted with laughter.

“If anyone could do it, Lady Claudia, I believe you could.”

She warmed to him even more, as the men in the room hooted. Claudia let them have their fun. She’d have the last laugh. When they had cleared the nest of traitors from her house, she’d put serious thought to her idea. A club for ladies sounded like the kind of establishment she would enjoy. They would thumb their noses at the men who thought they ruled the world.

In the meantime she’d see what they wanted to do with the house that she owned.

“We should clean the place out,” Val said. “Get rid of the seditious bastards.” He glanced at Claudia and mouthed “sorry,” presumably for using the curse word.

She shrugged and smiled. She’d heard worse words, and she had asked to be involved in this business. Forced her presence on them. She could hardly blame them for speaking freely.

“Then what?” she asked.

“Then in the fullness of time, you may sell it and add to your portion,” Val continued. “You said you could not live in it.”

She nodded. “I want to think about it. It might be more profitable to rent it out.”

“As long as you ensure the tenants are loyalists,” Marcus shook his lace ruffles free of his wide coat cuffs and picked up one of the papers. “You know where we obtained many of these?”

She nodded again.

Marcus glanced up at Dominic. “You?”

Dominic shook his head. “Tell me.”

Even if he did know, that was a smart move. He might learn more. He probably thought they got them from the authorities, but if they had, it was by another’s hand.

“Julius,” she said.

Her father nodded. “Indeed. My wife’s older brother is the Duke of Kirkburton. His son and heir, Julius, Lord Winterton, is particularly interested in the incursions of the Jacobites into London. You know of our family’s long rivalry with the Dankworths I presume?” He never took his attention from Dominic’s face the whole time he was speaking.

Claudia could only imagine how Dominic was feeling now, with the attention of her father and his three sons fixed on him. They were a formidable bunch. But then, Dominic was a formidable man.

Her father continued, “Our families have been at odds for some time, and now it comes down to the political divide between Jacobite and loyalist. I am not a foolish man, and I would not be speaking to you so frankly if I weren’t sure you were on our side. I have friends in Whitehall.”

“General Court,” Dominic said with a twisted smile.

Lord Strenshall inclined his head. “As you say.”

Dominic continued, “Then you should know that I am the only heir to my father’s title now. I intend to take my responsibilities seriously. I am a Whig by persuasion and a loyalist by inclination. I have never met the Stuarts—formally—but I have seen them, and I know what they want. I cannot see their aims being good for the country as it is now. Besides which, the current monarch rules at our wish. The will of the people.”

“You’re getting close to republicanism there.” Darius pressed the side of his thumbnail to his bottom lip.

“Do you object?” Dominic asked quietly, but menace growled low in his tones.

“Not in the least. A man is entitled to his opinions, but he doesn’t necessarily have the right to impose it on others.”

“Agreed.”

What, had she set her sights on a republican? What did that mean? What did she want from him? Showing no sign of her agitation, Claudia forced her attention back to the present. At the moment she wanted to help decide what would happen with her house.

“I’d hardly say the Pretenders have republicanism at heart,” she said, reminding them what they were here for. Increasingly she was getting the feeling that they wanted more than they said. They were interviewing Dominic, dammit. Yet again, matters were spiraling out of her control. She hated that, almost more than she hated anything else.

“They do not.” Dominic shifted position and his hand grazed the side of her neck.

The touch hardly there, shivers went through Claudia. He hadn’t done that by accident.

Her oldest brother cleared his throat, stood, and flicked his coat skirts. Habitually, he played with his clothes when he wanted to distract attention from something else. He’d seen that touch and detected her reaction to it.

“I do not want that house disturbed for the time being,” Dominic said.

Darius, who had been staring at his fingernails as if detecting a flaw there, looked up. “The devil you say. Why not?”

“Because I want to observe what goes on there.” Dominic paused before he spoke again. “I should not be telling you this, you understand?”

The men in the room grunted or nodded their assent, because they must have known he would say nothing if they did.

“The government has had enough. The prime minister wants Stuart arrested and brought to trial.”

Darius and Val hissed through their teeth, Marcus muttered a word that he should not have used in mixed company.

Her father merely nodded. “I expected as much. Newcastle does not have the subtlety of mind of his brother.”

The late Henry Pelham-Holles had died two years ago, much to the general lamentation of the Whigs. Yet another reason for striking now, if the Jacobites were attending, while politics was in a state of flux. Where the Duke of Newcastle was intelligent, his brother Henry had been brilliant. Now Henry had gone, everything worked a little less well.

“I believe you’re right.” Dominic’s hand tightened on the top rail of Claudia’s chair. “I came today to inform you of the government’s intention.”

Marcus laughed roughly. “You always meant to tell us, did you not?”

“I considered it,” Dominic said. “May I be frank?”

The men either nodded or agreed verbally.

“I don’t think a public trial for Stuart is the best course. I still think the Cause is better dying a slow death.”

“I agree,” her father said without hesitation.

“You want him in my house?” she demanded. “Is that it?”

“I want him where I can find him,” Dominic said steadily, but this time he addressed her. Their eyes met. His crinkled very slightly at the corners in the beginning of a smile that did not reach his lips. “I want to know what he is doing in London and who his associates are.”

“We know that,” Darius growled. He kicked away from the wall, heedless of the scuffmark he made on the paneling.

Their mother would not appreciate the extra work he’d made for the servants, and she would no doubt speak to him later about it. Claudia looked forward to it. The men got away with far too much in this house.

“I say we take him and send him back to France,” Darius said.

“Italy,” his twin corrected him.

“I care not, as long as he’s out of this country.”

“To plot again?” Dominic looked away from Claudia and addressed her brother. “To send messages to his partners in crime in London?”

Val sighed. “He’s right. The more we know, the better we can deal with the situation.”

Still tracing a line on the desk with his forefinger, Marcus lifted his head. “What concerns me is the coincidence. How did Claudia come into possession of one of the most notorious houses of sedition in the city? In the country, for that matter?”

“Oh, I think we know the answer to that,” her father said steadily. The chair creaked as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the wood. “It screams ‘Dankworth’ from every pore.”