Page 10 of Any Rogue Will Do
“I see the prodigal child has returned at last,” Agatha said from her chair by the window.
“If you’re not serving fatted calf for dinner, I shall be bitterly disappointed.” Lottie kissed her godmother’s powdered cheek. Although she was still a striking woman, the lines in her face had deepened with time. Agatha had never been beautiful in the classic sense, but then, Lottie loved that about her. Too tall, too thin, and too angular for the popular definition of beauty, yet even at her age, she continued to influence both fashion and society. Lottie’s honorary aunt was distinctive and memorable—which was better than beautiful.
“Fatted calf?” The older woman raised an imperious brow. “I am sure we could have tracked down a bit of plump livestock to celebrate your return, had I known to expect you today. I thought you would be here days ago. Instead, here I sat, wasting away for want of a word from you.”
“Yes, Auntie, I can see you’re wallowing in the depths of despair at the idea of my demise on the road.” Lottie gestured to the tin of sweets next to the chair. “All of my best wallowing requires biscuits too.”
“Do not distract me with your impertinence. Tell me where you were.” Two thumps of her cane on the carpet punctuated the demand.
Lottie settled across from her godmother. The sunlight through the window illuminated the silvery curls peeking from beneath Agatha’s black lace cap. “I sent word after my initial post regarding the accident. Some of our fellow travelers ended up staying past their intended departures due to the rain. It must have delayed the post as well.”
“God does tend to let his wrath loose on the countryside. Yet another reason I prefer to stay in London. Regardless, it is good to see you, child. I assume you met Dawson on the way in.”
“Yes. Do we have guards at night to ward off the grave robbers? I imagine the body snatchers have been eyeing him for some time. He must be as old as Methuselah.”
Agatha’s bark of laughter had a rusty quality to it. “Mock all you like, but he is frightfully competent at his post.”
“He would have to be. After hundreds of years of experience, there would be little new you could throw at him. Wherever did you find him? And more importantly, does Stemson know you’re being served tea by another man?”
Agatha leveled a look at her. “Stemson nearly had apoplexy when I discussed moving the entire staff to this residence. One would think the architectural firm staffed highwaymen and brigands, the way he carried on. No, he insisted his place was at his post, keeping an eagle eye on the workmen, even though they came with the highest recommendations.” She offered Lottie the tin of biscuits, then waited while she selected one. “Dawson has been a satisfactory addition to my home. This house was leased with staff in place, all carefully vetted by a hiring agency. You do remember the purpose of a hiring agency, do you not? I do not search the gutters for my help.”
Lottie rolled her eyes at the old refrain. Her estate was filled with good people, but some of them had needed a second chance. Patrick and Darling were only two of many she’d employed, contracted, and otherwise offered an opportunity to prove to everyone—and themselves—that their lives could be better. People sometimes needed a bit of guidance, that was all. “We have this discussion every time I write about hiring a new staff member. My servants are loyal and appreciate the opportunity to make an honest living. Each of them has redeemed themselves and proven my instinct to help them correct.”
Agatha offered a distinct harrumph in reply.
As if on cue, a maid arrived with a rolling tea cart piled high with sweet and savory offerings. Lottie smiled her thanks to the servant, pouring at Agatha’s nod.
“Remind me again, girl. Were you in a carriage accident or robbed by highwaymen?”
“Our carriage crashed, as you know. How would highwaymen possibly play into it?” Lottie handed a dainty cup and saucer to her godmother, then self-consciously touched her tender black eye, where shades of green and yellow had lingered that morning.
Agatha placed the tea on the small table beside her, settled her hands on the brass top of her cane, then began an exaggerated examination from the top of Lottie’s head to her boots. “It was the only explanation I could think of to explain that ghastly garment you are wearing. I assumed a generous chambermaid lent it to you. Perhaps you have also employed her?”
Lottie’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, sending ripples through her teacup. “I’ll have you know this dress has served me well for almost five years. I think I even delivered a calf in it once.”
“Oh, mercy.” Agatha twitched the edge of her skirt farther away from Lottie’s hem, despite the several feet between their chairs.
As she shook her head at her aunt’s antics, a wave of comfort washed over Lottie. Although the years showed in her appearance, Agatha remained a force of nature. Mother used to say that thunder, lightning, hurricanes, and Lady Agatha were all beyond the control of men.
“Are the workmen on schedule at your house?”
“That seems to depend on the day and with whom you are speaking. I want to be in my own bed for Christmas, but here we are, entering September already. The construction could have waited had I known this would be the year you finally decided to show your face again.”
Knowing her presence inconvenienced Agatha churned waves of guilt. “The timing was not my decision, I’m afraid. I’m only doing this because Father decided to make a match with the Earl of Danby’s son and I refused. I have until November to find an acceptable husband, or I will be forced to accept Mr. Montague.”
Father couldn’t leave his library to fix the tenants’ roofs or myriad other issues, but her marital status was suddenly more than he could tolerate. Lottie swiped two fingers between her brows, smoothing all sign of emotion from her forehead. Mother always warned about such displays causing lines.
“The Earl of Danby’s youngest? Rumor says he is handsome. But those are not the only rumors about him, my love. Be careful with that one. We will find a better match. You were wise to come to London.”
“I hope you’re right. Father promised an estate of my own in addition to my dowry. Let’s pray that is incentive enough to overcome my past.” With her own property, the decisions she made, the improvements and modernizations, would benefit the lives ofhertenants. She’d be making a difference, proving once and for all that she wasn’t the vapid Paper Doll Princess anymore.
“You were a scandal, my darling girl. Unlike some of these debutantes, who are witless as a sack of hair, you were innocent of wrongdoing. In these seven years, countless scandals have come and gone,” Agatha said.
“Whether they love me or loathe me, I’m prepared to face thetonagain.”
“Your mother would be proud of that decision.” They shared a moment of silence at the mention of the woman Agatha had thought of as a daughter. Agatha sighed, then clapped her hands once, as if to scare away the glum mood. “We can catch up while I show you to your room. You look ready to drop, my dear.”
The town house dated from the century before, standing tall, elegant, and narrow, like so many others on the street. The houses stood in a line like beautifully decorated toy soldiers, ready for inspection by the king.
