Algernon smiled faintly. “By all means, please do. I don’t hunt in any case so I wouldn’t have been of much help in that regard.”
“I was hoping you could help me in another way, Mr. Pitt-Riverston. And if you were so inclined, I’m sure the Duke of Groveland would be most grateful.”
“How grateful? ” Algernon had not inherited the philanthropic genes in the family.
“I’m sure you could name your price,” the barrister smoothly replied, pleased to find a family member who understood how business was conducted. “Just between us, sir, may I say your sister seems to put no value at all on money. Twenty thousand is an enormous sum.” Symon had been one of the many agents sent to make offers to Rosalind.
Algernon snorted. “She’s blind to the ways of the world-she sees herself as some ministering angel to the poor,” he added with a sneer. “Neither she nor her dilettante of a husband had any appreciation for the solid principles that have made Britain the envy of the world. Industry and professional men drive the engine of commerce. Not poets,” he spat, “or free libraries for the poor.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Symon would have agreed with the devil to get the job done.
“So how might I help you? ”
“How much influence do you have with your sister? ”
“To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure. But rest assured, I shall exert what pressure I have to make her understand the merits of accepting such a generous offer.”
“I’m sure the duke would be willing to offer you a down payment for your immediate assistance, and should you persuade your sister to sell, you need but name your reward.”
“Three hundred now.” Crisp and clipped.
“Very well.” A tidy sum Symon thought; the brother was greedy. But he took out his wallet and counted out the bills.
“I’ll send her a telegram immediately, then follow up with a letter. If she still remains adamant, I’ll travel down to London and deal with her face-to-face. I’ll make it clear to her that our parents could use financial help and with twenty thousand she could do so. There is filial duty after all; she is not ignorant of the principle. And so I will remind her.”
Their drinks came and Symon lifted his. “To a profitable association.”
“To our common goal,” Algernon added, holding his glass aloft.
The men drank, both pleased with the arrangement.
Algernon was richer by three hundred pounds, equal to a modest annual income for the lesser gentry, and the future held the possibility of real wealth.
The men parted with assurances and smiles, their bargain made.
Symon could report that he’d been partially successful in his assignment. Furthermore, he didn’t miss the evening train to London.
Chapter 24
FITZ LEFT ROSALIND’S apartment early the next morning. Throughout the day, Rosalind half hoped he’d stop by again, even though she realized the folly in harboring such expectations from a man who viewed women as amusements. At times, relatively tender amusements as he’d indicated last night, but she knew better than to anticipate any permanent interest. Her life had been too challenging to put much store in silver-lining fantasies. And despite Mrs. Beecham’s comment about dukes marrying beneath them, she was not about to take complete leave of her senses in that regard.
While Rosalind was reminding herself not to lose sight of reason when it came to Fitz’s charming ways-sexual and otherwise-Fitz was doing his very best not to think of Rosalind at all. He refused to yield to what he considered uncontrollable urges today. It was a matter of principle.
He actually escorted his mother to a luncheon that day, followed by a short musical recital. Not short enough in his estimation, but then with plenty of brandy he managed to survive the performance without losing his good humor.
In fact, on the carriage ride back to Groveland House, Julia said, “You seem in fine fettle today, darling. Even playing cavalier to me without so much as a grumble.” She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “To what do I owe this pleasure? ”
He was lounging back on the seat opposite her, the carriage top down on the warm afternoon, his gaze half-lidded against the sun. “I haven’t seen much of you since you arrived. I thought I’d do my filial duty.”
“Why today? ”
He laughed. “Don’t look at me with such suspicion. You’d think I never accompany you anywhere.”
“You don’t.”
“I do when you ask me.” He lifted his brows. “The Turner exhibit, for instance.”
“You left me there. Along with Miss Nesbit.”
“If you’re going to quibble with me,” he drawled, amusement in his gaze, “I won’t ask you where we’re going next.”
She looked at him as she had when he was young and trying to keep something from her. “Are you sick, darling? You can tell me.”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not sick, Mother. I’m in excellent health.”
“You were out all night.”
“I’m out most nights.”
“That’s true,” she agreed, experiencing some relief. “I thank you then for your company, although you have to admit, darling, you don’t often escort me to luncheon.”
“I was just in the mood today.”
“If you say so.” She wasn’t convinced.
“I do.” Then he took out a flask from his coat pocket, uncorked it, and drank a long draught.
It must be that woman, Julia thought with a mother’s instinct. “I was planning on going to Charlotte’s tea next if you’re looking for something to do.”
He groaned. “Good God, Mother, why do you bother with that self-righteous prude? ”
“If you must know, Kemal will be there. Charlotte’s husband is in the Ministry of Trade, and he and Kemal are discussing something or other,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“If Kemal’s there, you won’t need me.” Being dutiful had its limits and Charlotte Dalton was his. He couldn’t stomach the woman; she thought she could entice him as a suitor by slyly calling attention to her daughter’s virginity.
His mother smiled, well aware of Charlotte’s crude presumption. “You could just tell Charlotte you can’t abide virgins.”
“I believe I have in every possible way short of gross discourtesy, Mother. She is completely obtuse and oblivious to the fact that virgins went the way of sailing ships.”
“I believe there are still a few.”
He offered her a jaundiced look. “If they’re very plain.” At which point a picture of the splendid Mrs. St. Vincent sprang into his mind in not so subtle contrast. “I’ll get off at Brooks’s,” he abruptly said and swivelling around gave instructions to the driver. “You don’t need me with Kemal for company, do you? ”
“No, of course not.” Julia scrutinized her son, taking note of his sudden discomfort. “If you need anything or if you wish for entertainment tonight, Kemal and I are dining with Derby.”
Fitz looked up, his flask halfway to his mouth. “Thank you, but I’ll find some entertainment of my own.” Raising the flask to his mouth, he drained it.
“Do you have plans to go to Green Grove anytime soon?” Fitz normally went grouse hunting in August or rusticated in the country.
“I’m not sure. What about you? ”
“We might drive out next week,” Julia said.
“I’ll come along if I can,” he lied. It wasn’t that he disliked Kemal; he just preferred not seeing Kemal play husband to his mother when the man already had four wives. A son’s protective impulse perhaps, but there it was.
Despite drinking and gambling at Brooks’s in the course of the following hours, however, his memories of Mrs. St. Vincent persisted. In fact, the more he drank, the more vivid they became. Not a particular surprise. He’d decided to play cicisbeo to his mother in order not to spend the day drinking, knowing what it would do to his self-control. He was like a dog with the neighborhood bitch in heat, he thought-driven willy nilly to fuck her. And liquor only made the craving worse.