Page 51 of Their Brazen Countess
A half hour later, she walked into Mrs. Atwell’s dress shop with her son in tow. They were shown to a dressing room, where she sat down and waited for the girl to come in with her gown. After a few moments, Mrs. Atwell appeared.
“Lady Whitestone.” There was a note of disdain in her tone, as though she was very cross about something.
“Good morning Mrs. Atwell. Is my gown ready?” Jo asked, after noting that the clothing in question was absent from the room.
“Well, it is, but there is an issue with finishing it.” The woman sniffed.
“What issue might that be?” Jo was growing more concerned by the moment. Something was definitely wrong, but she wasn’t sure what it was yet since the modiste was being a mite dramatic about everything.
“Your account and credit have been cancelled, my lady.” The modiste stared down her nose at Jo as though she was incapable of paying her debts.
Jo’s cheeks heated as she struggled to comprehend what the very annoyed woman was saying. “I…I don’t understand. I have not cancelled my account with you.”
“It seems your man of affairs has done so on your behalf. If you were not going to be able to pay for this gown, I don’t understand why you ordered it. It is not as if I can afford to gift it to you. Now I must hope to find someone to buy a gown created for another woman,” she huffed as she crossed her arms.
“I’ll have you know I ordered that gown fully intending to pay for it. I have no idea what is going on, but I intend to get to the bottom of it. I shall be back for my gown in the next few days.” Jo grabbed her son’s hand as she stormed out of the dressing room and out of the shop. She found her carriage and ushered her son inside. There was little point in making her other planned stops. She felt certain she would find the same situation wherever she had accounts established. It was clear that Bernard was behind this, and that meant she had only one course of action available to her. “Take me to Lord Downs’ home.”
The man had not been at her home that morning, so he must actually be occupying his own. For a change.
She arrived at his unkempt Mayfair home. “Come along, Matthew. You’ll wait in the hall while I speak to your Uncle Bernard.”
“Yes, Mother. Then can we go to Gunter’s?”
“Yes. We shall go for ices after I speak with Lord Downs.” Jo smiled sadly down at her son and, not for the first time, wished he could be spared the odious family she’d married into. Or, more accurately, had been sold into. But it was his family by blood, if nothing else.
They entered the house and she deposited Matthew on a tufted velvet bench, then steamed right past the butler and into Bernard’s study. To her horror, she walked in to find the man with one of the young housemaids on his lap and his hand down her bodice. The girl was fifteen if she was a day.
“Bernard!”
“Oh!” The poor girl turned a violent shade of red and escaped his clutches. “Excuse me, m’lady.” She curtsied as she ran from the room, all while she kept her gaze fixed on the floor.
Jo wasn’t certain how she managed to both curtsy and move so quickly, all without looking up to see where she was going.
Finally alone, she looked at her brother-in-law and found herself grateful that she had been sold to the elder brother, who either had the good sense not to prey on the help or the intelligence to keep his proclivities hidden from her. Bernard, however, looked utterly unperturbed that she had walked in on him in such a compromising position.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of you deigning to grace my home with your presence?” Her odious brother-in-law sat back in his chair and threaded his fingers together as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair.
“I went to my modiste shop for a fitting today and was informed that my credit was cancelled. I assume the same is true with all the vendors where I had accounts.”
“You would be correct. I did inform you that I would act as the head of your household until Matthew comes of age. As part of that, I am reining in your exorbitant spending.”
Shock slammed into her. Of course, she shouldn’t be; he had in fact told her he would take control. But this was too much. It was humiliating.
“You will need to provide a list of household needs each month and I shall review and approve any expenditures. As for your wardrobe, you will be allowed one new gown each Season, the same as my wife, Agnes. What is good enough for her is good enough for you.”
Anger welled from deep within, spilling over like an erupting volcano. “Impossible. I am not extravagant in my purchases, nor do I pretend to be in the first stare of fashion. But one new gown at the start of the season is absurd for any passably fashionable woman, let alone a lady. Not to mention you haven’t the first clue what it takes to run a household the size of my townhouse.”
“I assure you, I am quite capable of properly managing a household’s finances,” Bernard sneered.
Jo’s anger flared, white hot.The man must take her for a fool!“I think not. I can see that your own house is so poorly run that the rugs are threadbare in places, the windows require washing, and last time I dined here half the fine china was chipped. Outside of all of those issues, you are trying to take control of my finances and you have no authority to do so. I shall stop to speak with my husband’s man of affairs. Clearly, I should have done so sooner so that there was no question as to who is in control.”
He laughed darkly. “I take it you have not made the acquaintance of Mr. Whitaker. You will find that he does not do business with women.”
Her gut clenched as fear set in for the first time. It was 1867, not 1767. How could the man, any man, be unwilling to do business with a lady?
“As you can imagine, he was quite pleased that I would manage my brother’s accounts on your behalf.” Bernard waved a hand toward the door of his study. “But by all means, please go visit the man and see for yourself.” He stood up. “Do have a lovely day, Josephine.”
Incensed he would be so familiar with her on top of trying to steal her money, she turned and stormed from his study, letting the door bang against the woodwork as she departed. In the hall she collected her son then departed the twice damned house.
