Page 24 of Wicked Wager

Lane's gaze flew to her face. "You intend to help them? How? I trust, in your womanly compassion, you don't plan to bring any scrawny guttersnipes here!"

The warmth his concern for her had generated began to chill. "Those 'scrawny guttersnipes' risked their lives in battle after battle so you might be able to sit in London at your leisure and sip port!"

"I don't mean to disparage the soldiers' service. But the war is over now. 'Tis time they found some useful occupation, instead of loitering around gin shops and taverns grumbling about their fate and agitating against the government. Only think what happened to the Frogs when their lower orders were allowed to dissent."

His reactionary views stifled the last of her sympathy. "These men, who've taken the King's coin, aren't interested in revolution," she replied impatiently. "All they desire is what should be freely offered them-a chance to engage in honest labor and earn enough to house and provide for their families."

Lane manufactured a thin smile. "So, how many are we to employ?"

"One household cannot provide enough work even for those I've already met and I suspect there are many more. No, a much more comprehensive solution is needed."

Lane's frown returned. "Just what do you intend?"

"I am not yet perfectly sure. I must talk with my solicitor and make a more thorough canvass of the needs within the community. Perhaps I shall purchase a rural property where those who have farmed can lease land and establish a school to train the widows and youngsters."

Lane's frown ceded to a look of paternalistic indulgence. "A laudable aim, my dear," he said, patting her hand, "and a tribute to your feminine sensibilities, if wholly impractical! But your trustees would never approve such an expenditure."

For the second time that day, Jenna had the pleasure of shocking a gentleman by replying, "I have no trustees, dear cousin."

His expression was gratifyingly shocked. "No trustees? Surely you are mistaken! A female-even one as brave and accomplished as you, my dear-simply isn't capable of managing finances. Consult your solicitor, but I'm certain your papa, fine officer that he was, set up proper provisions for your protection."

At least Nelthorpe, Jenna thought, by now thoroughly irritated with her cousin, had not questioned her ability to manage what was her own, despite his surprise over the admittedly unusual arrangement. "If you doubt my word, cousin, then you may consult him about it."

"Well, we shall see, I suppose," he said after a short silence. "However matters stand, though, I beg you to think long and carefully before you attempt to implement so...radical a plan. Capable as you may be in other areas, you know nothing of managing agricultural property. The mere expense of purchasing a tract large enough to permit the scheme you're envisioning would be enormous!"

"By happy chance, so is my fortune."

"Even so, such an outlay might make severe inroads upon your principal. Bah, I shall not attempt to explain, but this could adversely affect current and future income."

Curbing the strong desire to frame a retort demonstrating her mastery of the intricacie's of fund management, she decided to take another tack. "Oh, la, will it be as harmful as all that? Such a downturn in my fortune might make me a less attractive prize on the Marriage Mart. I must warn dear Lady Montclare of the sad fact, don't you think, before she wastes any more time on me? Perhaps tonight at the musicale you and Aunt Hetty are pressing me to attend."

Lane sighed. "You are displeased with me, I see. But in my defense, let me protest that if I interfere, it is only because I care deeply about your well-being. I cannot stand by and see you taken advantage of by miscreants too lazy to earn their own keep-or fortune hunters pursuing their own gain."

"Then do me the honor of believing I am capable of guarding myself and my fortune from such dangers without assistance. If you'll excuse me, cousin?"

"I shall see you later, then, Jenna."

Turning her back on Lane's bow, Jenna at last escaped into her room.

She supposed Cousin Lane did wish the best for her, Jenna thought as she closed the door, though perhaps it was his hope of persuading her into matrimony that drove his concern that she not squander any of her fortune. If his regard was inspired more by her purse than her person, this conversation should bring about a chill in his ardor.

Interestingly enough, the odd thought occurred, though he'd first expressed the same surprise as her cousin at the terms of her father's bequest, Anthony Nelthorpe had then accepted the arrangement without further question.

Nor, despite her cousin's insinuation, had he hinted he hoped to figure as one of the beneficiaries of her largesse. His concern for the displaced soldiers-and the shame she'd seen in his face that he could do little to assist them-showed her this reputed rogue did possess the heart Betsy had claimed. And he had seemed willing to let her follow hers without dispensing paternalistic advice.

Of course, Lane Fairchild had never seen her organize and manage an army camp on the march.

Still, he evidently preferred that she remain ignorant of the injustices within their society and leave dealing with difficult or dangerous matters to gentlemen.

Perhaps there was something to be said for a rogue.

*CHAPTER THIRTEEN*

At midmorning the next day, Tony paused in the front hallway before setting out. Observing the headway Sergeant Anston and the new maid were making in clearing away years of dirt and neglect made him feel buoyed and hopeful. Perhaps he could meet the challenges facing him after all.

Now, to get to the truth of Jenna's accident.

Having been informed during their conversation at the musicale last night that she planned to consult her solicitor this morning, he was confident that when he reached Fairchild House, Jenna would not be at home. Whereupon he would ask to speak with Sancha, that she might convey a message from him to her mistress, as she often had on his visits during Jenna's convalescence.

Fortunately, since Sancha was unlikely to believe that excuse, their mission yesterday seemed to have raised him in her esteem. Out of curiosity, if for no other reason, he was reasonably sure she would agree to meet him.

He arrived at Fairchild House to learn, as expected, that Jenna was out but that the maid would be down shortly. "What is it your lordship wants of Sancha?" she asked as she entered the room a few minutes later.

"You are devoted to Lady Fairchild," he began.

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Si. I make the vendetta against any who harm my mistress."

From the tone in which she made that pointed pronouncement, Tony gathered that though her opinion of him might have risen somewhat, his position in Sancha's good graces was by no means secure.

"I, too, am very concerned about Lady Fairchild's safety. For her own protection, I must ask that you repeat to no one what I am about to confide in you. Will you swear that, by the Blessed Virgin?"

Her eyebrows raised. "It is serious, this danger?"

"I am not sure, else I would act, but it could be deadly. I wish to take no chances. Will you swear?"

Sancha made the sign of the cross. "By the Blessed Virgin, I will tell no one. What harm threatens my lady?"

"Did it not seem strange to you that your mistress, as experienced a rider as she is, would take a fall during a ride through the park?"

"I am surprised. But when her esposo die, her heart die with him. Since then, she pays small attention to what happens about her."

"Did her horse truly need shoeing the day she borrowed Mrs. Thornwald's mount?"

Sancha raised her eyebrows. "This, I do not know. The horse was re-shoed, that is certain. Why ask you this?"

"Was there no talk among the servants about how odd it was that the head groom made no mention to her of the animal's unusual disposition?"

"They say they expect he thought Mrs. Thornwald or Mr. Fairchild had told her. Madre de Diosf"

Sancha gasped. "You think someone meant to harm my lady?"

"I know two women ready to rejoice at her misfortune," he replied grimly. "After pondering the matter further," he lowered his voice to ensure no passing servant might overhear, "I realized someone else might be even more pleased if Lady Fairchild were never brought to bed of a son. The man that son would displace as viscount."

Sancha fixed her shrewd eyes on him for a long moment. "A viscount has much power and wealth, no?"

"Who can guess what heinous act a man might commit to retain his grasp on such a prize?"

"There is much wickedness in the world," Sancha agreed. "But this Bayard, cousin to my lady's husband, does not seem interested in such matters. Always he stays in the cellars, mixing his strange powders." Sancha crossed herself again. "Doing the devil's work, perhaps!"

"If Jenna had borne a healthy son, they would no longer be his cellars," Tony pointed out. "Nor his house, nor, probably, his funds to continue his experiments, though I don't know yet what revenue he has. Have you heard it said-even in a whisper-that her fall might have been other than an accident?"

Sancha shook her head. "Nay, I hear only sadness for my lady's loss. Much talk it caused, the groom being dismissed, but all approve Mr. Fairchild's action."

"Was the groom angry? Contrite? Guilt-striken?"

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