Page 41 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
“Yes.”
“I didn’t…I never suspected.How old…how can it be possible?I’m sorry.”
A memory came to him—the Cheswick parlor, Lady Jane looking up adoringly into Reginald Dempsey’s face, and Dempsey returning a grin that was…playful, he’d thought then.
Now he knew.That had been lust, satisfied, and damn it all, he hadn’t suspectedthen.
“You will have to ask her those details, and you may do so…tomorrow night.There must be some ball, or rout, or some such.”
“The Kennerly musicale.”
“Good.Were you invited?”
Penderbrook nodded.
“I’ll make sure Lady Jane attends.”
“How?”
He fixed the young man with a stern gaze.The boy needed hardening.He’d been coddled and pampered by the bookish vicar who’d raised him.He’d been seeking a position in the Foreign Office, but he’d never make a spy or a diplomat.First, he needed to step up and be a man.
For Jane’s sake, he would settle the boy’s debts, and then he would find Penderbrook another type of post.After the boy made amends with his mother.
“You’ll send her a note, asking to speak to her there.Lady Bakeley will ensure she attends.”
“Yes, my lord.”Penderbrook went to a sideboard and retrieved a sheet of parchment.“Where is she staying?”
“You may send it in my care.”
Penderbrook lifted his quill, but Shaldon stayed his hand.“You will write the note before we leave, but first we will talk about your debts to Major Payne-Elsdon.Has the man called you out on them?”
The boy’s Adam’s apple rippled and a mulish look came over him.“Not yet, my lord.I’ve…I’ve been expecting his challenge every day.”
“And how did you come to gamble so much with him?”
“I’ve only wagered with him a couple of times when I…when I was much in my cups.And I’d paid those wagers with the help of my…”
Penderbrook’s jaw dropped.
“Your mother.”
The boy swiped a hand through his hair, perspiration rising on his brow.“I thought the funds came from my guardian.”He colored deeply.“I had no idea.”
“And so, if you paid those wagers…” He leveled a hard gaze at the boy.
“The Major has taken up all my other vowels, even from friends who’d assured me they would happily wait.”
“How?”
“The moneylender I…er…dealt with was, of course, quite happy to be paid by him.As for my friends, when they’ve wagered with him and lost, he’s accepted my vowels in repayment.”
“Has he indeed.Well, sit down, and let’s have a reckoning of the debt.”
Jenny hefted her basket,letting her gaze sweep the street and the passersby as she headed back to the house on Gerrard Street.
She’d lingered at Hackwell House until Lady Jane’s carriage had returned empty.The coachman had dropped Lady Jane at Barton’s shop.
Jenny had hurried to join her there.Something was wrong with the lady, something more than just feeling a bit mad—as many women did from month to month, and wasn’t Lady Jane still having her courses?
She’d heard of that paunchy old gent’s offer of marriage, but she suspected Lady Jane had received plenty of such offers, if not of marriage, then of the other sort, men being men.
It might not be any of her affair, but she was curious, and a bit worried, like one might be about a favorite aunt, if she’d ever had one of those.
At the modiste’s shop, she’d found Lady Jane in the thick of it with an oily old Frenchman, who’d put her in mind of a fence she’d once seen in her old life.Their crew had filched a whole set of miniatures and—
At the back gate of the Gerrard street house, a tall gent stepped out of the shadows, halting her train of thought.
