Page 10 of The Secret Word
“You could have, though,” Billy observed. “You could introduce yourself to your cousin the earl, or call on your mother’s cousin the marquess. Or, better yet, your mother’s brother the earl.”
It was uncanny how Billy could pluck a half-formed idea from a man’s head. “And say what?” Chris said. “Hello, I am the son of the late, unlamented Reggie Satterthwaite. I found him no more reliable than you did, but was fortunate enough to be caught picking the pocket of a gang boss, who took pity on me and had me raised by the professional women in his gambling den. Kiss me, cousin.”
“Perhaps a little less information and a shade more formality,” Billy suggested.
“They will throw me out on my arse.”
“Perhaps.” Billy pursed his lips and tilted his head from side to side. “Perhaps not, if we approach it correctly. It is worth doing, you know. You shouldn’t settle for being my bookkeeper for the rest of your life. If you are acquainted with your family, it will open doors to almost any life you might want, especially if you have access to Miss Wright’s money.”
The assumptions in that statement sent Chris’s head reeling, and all he could think of to say in response was, “If Wright has his way, I’ll not have access to anything he doesn’t dribble out to me.”
“We can handle Wright.” Billy’s grin suggested he had several enjoyable strategies already planned. “That man is not half as clever as he thinks he is.”
“I said something similar to Miss Wright.”
“Yes, the girl is sharp,” Billy agreed. “Fetching, too, if not quite in the common way.”
And now Chris was feeling a sharp stab of jealousy at his benefactor and boss. He was disgusted with himself. Clementine Wright had had him at sixes and sevens even before her father’s outrageous proposal set his mind seething with plans and dreams.
“Think about it, Christopher,” Billy said. “Decide if you want Miss Wright and her money, if you want to make contact with the respectable side of your family. I will help you with both or either. Now. To business. Do you have the summary figures for last month?”
“I do, sir.” Chris stood, grateful to put the confusing questions to one side to return to the straightforward financial records he kept for Billy’s multiple enterprises. “I will get them for you immediately.”
*
It couldn’t hurt,Chris decided, to turn up at the Wright townhouse the following day at two o’clock, which was the time Wright had appointed for Miss Wright’s first lesson in being a lady. One lesson did not commit him to marrying the lady, after all.
“I was not sure if you would come,” Miss Wright said, when he was shown into the drawing room where she waited, with the maid Martha in attendance.No. I didn’t imagine my reaction to her. What is it about her that turns my heart over in my chest?
“I wasn’t sure if I would come, either.” Chris grinned at her, inviting her to enjoy the joke. “It would do no harm to talk, I told myself. But truly, I just wanted to see you again.”
She rolled her eyes, suggesting she thought he was serving compliments with a shovel. This had the paradoxical effect of delighting him. “It is true, you know,” he said. “But you have no reason to believe me. You do not know me. Not yet. In furtherance of our acquaintance, shall we go for a walk to discuss your father’s requirements and how what we might go about satisfying them?”
From Clem’s expression, she was trying to work out whether walking with him would be a concession too far. She had not yet understood what he was about. Chris let her know by speaking to the maid. “Martha, my plan is to walk to Leicester Square and then stroll around the gardens. Once we arrive at the gardens, you will walk behind us, out of earshot but well within sight. That will cover the proprieties while allowing Miss Wright and myself the privacy to speak our minds.”
That worked. Clem’s face cleared and she nodded briskly. “Yes, Mr. Satterthwaite. Martha, please fetch my bonnet, my pelisse, and my walking boots. Also, your own.”
“May I suggest a shawl?” Chris asked. “There is a brisk wind.”
Soon, they had covered the short distance to Leicester Square. Billy had suggested the destination and provided a key to one of the gates so they could walk in the private garden that filled the center of the square.
Apart from a sharp look when Chris pulled out the key, Clem did not react to him claiming resident’s privileges. As soon as Martha had lagged far enough behind them, he answered the question she hadn’t asked. “Ramping Billy gave me the key. I didn’t ask where he got it.”
The answer was not to her taste, Chris could tell, but he had no other, so he changed the subject. “Shall we talk about the choices each of us has before us?”
“Do I have choices before me?” Clem asked. “Father has already said that the decision is his, and that if I refuse the groom he offers me, I will be—and I quote—‘out in the street in your shift, my girl.’”
Nasty old man. “Then you have three choice. Cooperate with me to convince your father I am the preferred suitor. Make common cause with another suitor. Simply sit back and let come what may.”
Clem bowed her head so all he could see of her was her bonnet. A pretty confection, but he’d have preferred it back in her wardrobe so her face was visible. If he could see her face, he would know what she was thinking. She had not mastered the art of keeping her thoughts to herself, which was probably what her father meant by saying she needed to be more ladylike.
Personally, Chris preferred her openness.
“But if you are at risk of being thrown out, Clem, send for me, and I will meet you with a cloak and take you some place safe.”
She turned her head up at that and searched his face. Let her. He meant every word. Some of the women who had raised him took to their way of life because they’d been thrown pennilessinto the street—by a lover, a father, even a husband. For their sakes, he’d come to the rescue of anyone in such need.
Perhaps she did not believe what she saw. Certainly, her harrumph sounded dismissive. “What choices do you face, Chris?” she asked.
