Page 23 of A Duke in Disguise
“Indeed, there is nothing to apologize for. Talbots are no strangers to vice. However, the fact that you are alive and in good health suggests that you were well provided for in your early years. That doesn’t sound in the least like something a man of my family would do. A Talbot man would be much more likely to leave one of his by-blows to die of exposure on a hillside. I suppose I ought to apologize for suggesting that you might be a Talbot, after having spoken so badly of them.”
“My lady, you are yourself a Talbot and I don’t see any evidence of evildoing on your part. I doubt you would leave a child to die of exposure.” It was meant as a jest, but the lady’s face drained of color.
“Indeed. I would not let a child die,” she said in a faint voice.
Ash worried he had said something to recall a bad experience to the lady’s mind, and scrambled to find a way to make it right. But before he could come up with a suitable response, she stepped towards him.
“Do you have scar on your forearm, Mr. Ashby? It would be your left arm, halfway between the wrist and elbow.” She reached out to him, as if she meant to check for herself, but then arrested the motion. Ash was already on his feet, stepping back from the woman’s hand as if it were a viper. “I beg your pardon,” she said, blushing fiercely. “That was terribly inappropriate of me.”
But as he looked at her outstretched hand, he saw a ring of bruises around her wrist, of the sort he imagined might be caused by a large hand gripping her. “I find it hard to believe that you would wish to have another Talbot man in proximity to you,” he said, trying to make his voice gentle. “They do not seem to do you much good.”
“They don’t do anyone any good whatsoever,” she said, tucking her hands behind her back when she saw that Ash had observed her discolored wrists. “I mitigate the harm as well as I can, which sometimes isn’t very well at all.” She spoke these last words with something like grief, her gaze not moving from his face.
“You’ll understand that even if I am the natural child of some connection of yours, I don’t especially wish to dwell on it, nor do I wish to make the acquaintance of people who threw me away.”
“Thrown away. You misunderstand—” Lady Caroline went pale. “I beg your pardon. I just thought—family is good to have.”
It wasn’t until he was halfway home that Ash realized she might have been talking about her own wish for family—family that didn’t leave bruises on her arms or cause her to hide within her own home. If he were a different sort of person he might have been able to negotiate some kind of relationship with this family that could be his. He might be able to provide some comfort to this woman who, despite her fine clothes and grand house, seemed more alone than Ash.
Verity was inspecting the proofs for the November issue of theLadies’ Registerwhen a woman entered the shop. She had a black velvet cloak pulled over her head and a fur muff covering her hands. At a glance, Verity could tell that this was not the sort of customer they usually got. But then the girl flung off her hood. It was Amelia Allenby, looking vaguely dismayed to see Verity.
“Oh!” Amelia said, standing in the shop door. “You never work behind the counter.”
“Well, what with Nate being—” Verity clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, Amelia, I ought to have sent word.”
The girl looked stricken. “Is he in prison?”
“No, God no.” Verity explained Nate’s departure and watched the girl’s open countenance progress from surprise to relief to, finally, what seemed to be mild consternation.
“Your brother certainly doesn’t make things easy,” Amelia said.
This was such an understatement that Verity couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You don’t know the half of it,” she said. But why did Amelia speak as if she were personally aggrieved by Nate’s behavior? In fact, what was Amelia even doing here in the first place? “I thought you weren’t supposed to come here,” she pointed out.
“That was to keep me away from Nate. If he isn’t here, then it hardly matters.”
Verity folded her arms across her chest. “But you came to see him.”
“Trifling details,” Amelia said breezily. “Oh, is that the second issue of theLadies’ Registeryou have there? We’ve dearly been looking forward to it.”
Verity’s eyes narrowed. Could it be that Amelia had arrived for some kind of assignation with Nate? Or Charlie, even? “Amelia, are you and Nate—”
“Stop, you sound like Mama. She thinks I have atendrefor your brother. She’ll be over the moon to discover he’s at a safe distance from me.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person who did,” she said carefully.
“I’m exceptionally fond of your brother, and of you and Mr. Ashby. You’re all so clever and quick-witted and I enjoy your company very much. And your brother is handsome, no question. But Mama thinks that means I want to elope with him. You know Mama, she thinks every young lady will drift helplessly towards an amorous misadventure if given half a chance.”
“Well,” Verity said, striving for delicacy, “that may be due to the fact that this is precisely what she did at your age.” Portia had been very young indeed when she met Amelia’s father.
“Truly, though, I don’t even want to kiss Nate or anybody else. I just like to look at him and listen to him. It’s envy, not romance.”
“Envy?” Verity repeated, gazing pointedly at Amelia’s velvet cloak.
“Imagine being able to do exactly as you please. I know that sounds childish, when there might well have been dire consequences for him, which is why he’s on a ship at the moment. But he’s a man, and, well, not a gentleman. He doesn’t need to stand on ceremony. Whereas I feel like a prize pony. Every word I say and every step I take is judged, sometimes right in front of my face. I do feel bad for Mama. She has such a poor horse to show.”
“Oh, Amelia.” Not for the first time, Verity wondered if Portia had been thinking quite clearly in bringing up her girls the way she had. Amelia had all the burdens of gentility with none of the security and none of the status. Verity could at least fend for herself. She did not think she could stand a single day in Amelia’s shoes, being judged and found wanting by people with money and titles—the very group she held responsible for most of what ailed the nation. Well, Verity could endure a day, but that day would end with her throwing her drink in somebody’s face and then going back to her normal life. Because Verity had work; she could take care of herself. Amelia’s future was dependent on the approval of people she did not respect or care for.
“In any event,” Amelia went on, waving an airy hand. “I’ll miss your brother terribly and I’ll likely convince myself he’s my lost love the next time I’m feeling dramatic, but I have to agree with you that he can’t go on like this, risking arrest and throwing your lives into chaos. I’ll pretend to be devastated so Mama thinks my life is more interesting than it really is, and so she’ll have the satisfaction of thinking a crisis has been averted.”
