Miss In A Man's World

He detected a distinct catch in her voice as she said this, and so decided not to dwell on a subject that had clearly evoked painful memories. None the less, what he had discovered about her thus far, and her general behaviour, only went to confirm what he had suspected from the first.

‘Would I be correct in thinking you were never in service before joining my household, child?’

A moment’s silence, then, ‘You would, my lord. But neither have I lived the life of the privileged few. As I told you, for many years my mother was a cook-housekeeper. I was given an assortment of tasks to do round the vicarage. I was not encouraged to be idle. And my godfather, who resided not too far distant, kept many animals,’ she added, as they returned to one of the main tracks. ‘He especially liked pigs—restful creatures, he called them. I spent a great deal of time with him … and the pigs.’

His lordship was positive she was telling the truth, as far as it went. Yet, it didn’t go anywhere near far enough. There was something fundamental she was keeping to herself. Unfortunately he was denied the opportunity to probe further by the sudden appearance of an open carriage. To have attempted to avoid the encounter by turning his mount in another direction would have been to offer the cut direct, and he had no intention of doing so to the lady whose generous hospitality he had enjoyed the previous evening.

‘Great heavens, Fincham!’ the Duchess of Merton exclaimed, as her open carriage drew to a halt. ‘Twice in as many days! I’m astonished! You usually avoid parading with the fashionable as a rule.’

‘Not always, your Grace. Furthermore, I’ve never attempted to avoid you.’

This clearly pleased her. ‘Oh, you wicked creature! If only I were ten years younger! You see, Lavinia,’ she added, turning to the vapid young lady beside her, ‘you should always heed your mama’s advice. I have warned you to avoid such notorious flirts.’

‘Unjust, your Grace!’ his lordship protested, rising to the occasion by appearing affronted. ‘It can never be said of Fincham that he flirted with innocence.’

She favoured him with an arch look. ‘Well, yes, that’s true enough, I suppose,’ she acknowledged, before stretching forwards to tap the coachman on the shoulder with her parasol.

As soon as the carriage had moved away, the Viscount beckoned Georgie to ride alongside again. ‘You see now, child, why I avoid this place as a rule, at least at this hour of the day. You are obliged to exchange pleasantries with those you least wish to meet.’

At this admission questioning eyes scrutinised his profile. ‘But I thought you liked the duchess, my lord. You seemed very friendly towards her last night.’

‘It would be the height of bad taste to ignore one’s hostess, my dear child. Furthermore, I cannot help but feel a grudging respect for her. Merton is not an easy man, and certainly not one whose company I would seek too often, either.’

There was a hint of speculation in the eyes that remained glued to his lordship’s physiognomy. ‘You prefer his brother, perhaps—Lord Rupert Gyles?’

He considered for a moment. ‘Yes, I suppose I do, even though he can be quite feckless on occasions. However, unlike me, he is generally a very sociable, easygoing soul.’

‘But last night, sir, you seemed very sociable, most especially when you were with Sir Willoughby Trent, and the duchess,’ his companion reminded him, turning to stare straight ahead again, ‘though I didn’t perfectly understand what you were talking about. It puzzled me. Something the duchess said puzzled me.’

‘Indeed? And what was it that bewildered you so much?’ his lordship asked, in a mood to be indulgent.

‘She said something about. “the favoured five".’ A troubled frown marred the perfection of a fine young forehead. ‘But there were dozens and dozens present last night who have been blessed to live a life of luxury. Which five was she referring to in particular?’

‘Ah!’ Enlightenment dawned swiftly enough, but the Viscount dismissed the topic with a wave of one shapely hand. ‘It is nothing, child, a mere bagatelle.’

‘Oh, do tell, my lord! It’s so intriguing!’

‘It would seem, Georgie, my lad, you can be tiresomely persistent when the mood takes you.’ Although he sighed, he was once again inclined to be indulgent. ‘Very well. A few high-ranking society hostesses, her Grace the Duchess of Merton included, coined the name for a small group of gentlemen whom Lady Luck seemed to favour at the gaming tables. They have earned the reputation for playing for high stakes. It is perhaps fortunate, therefore, that they win rather more than they lose, as a rule. As I said, child, it is a piece of nonsense.’

‘But you haven’t told me who these gentlemen are, my lord,’ Georgie reminded him, clearly eager to learn more.

‘Your curiosity is insatiable!’ he scolded, but then immediately afterwards relented when he received a look of wounded pride. ‘Oh, very well. You met two of the group last night—Sir Willoughby and the duchess’s own brother-in-law, Lord Rupert Gyles. Lord Chard, who wasn’t present last night, is a further member, and one of the group died earlier this year.’

‘And who was that, my lord?’ Georgie asked quietly, while all the time keeping her gaze averted.

‘The seventh Earl of Grenville. Apparently he was attacked by a band of highway robbers while returning home to his estate in Gloucestershire.’

‘That is four, my lord,’ she reminded him, when he fell into a brown study. ‘Who is the fifth member?’

All at once there was a suspicion of smugness in the Viscount’s expression. ‘Why, you are in his employ!’

Young eyes were instantly turned in his direction, but almost immediately afterwards lowered before the Viscount had a chance to interpret what was revealed in those strikingly coloured depths for a few brief moments.

That day set the pattern for the following week. Every afternoon his lordship set out for a ride with his striking page. This in itself would not have given rise to comment had not his lordship allowed his young servant to ride beside him, and engaged him in conversation for the most part.

He remained at home for most of the evenings, too, which was most unusual. Ensconced in his library, with only his page to bear him company, he whiled away many happy hours enjoying games of chess with his increasingly endearing companion. Only after his most favoured of servants had retired for the night did he venture forth, sometimes to his club, sometimes to the more intimate surroundings of his mistress’s boudoir.

Then, one evening at the beginning of the following week, Lord Fincham broke with routine and requested his page to accompany him out. Forgoing the carriage, he decided to walk the short distance to where a long-awaited party was being held. Unfortunately the gathering proved a dull affair, and his lordship soon tired of the entertainment on offer. Acting on impulse, he decided to go in search of more genial company, and amusement more fitting his mood.

Consequently, on leaving the party, he hailed a hackney carriage to convey him to a discreet house situated in a much less fashionable area of town, where he knew games for high stakes took place most evenings. He was fortunate enough to discover those he sought, all seated at a table in one of the upstairs rooms, and didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation to join them.

As he took his seat he noticed the eyes of the worthy seated opposite glance beyond his right shoulder to the being standing dutifully behind his lordship’s chair. Although there was a touch of envy, and perhaps a hint of resentment too, in Sir Willoughby’s expression, he made no comment and quickly returned his attention to the cards in his hand.

The man on the Viscount’s left, however, betrayed no such reticence, and announced, ‘Naturally, I’d heard you’d acquired a page, Fincham. Until now I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe it. In all the years we’ve been acquainted I’ve never known you succumb to whims and fancies.’

‘And he has not this time, Chard,’ Sir Willoughby assured him, before the Viscount could respond. ‘He acquired the boy merely to vex me, unless I much mistake the matter.’

‘And by your peevish tone, Trent, I would suggest he has succeeded in his objective remarkably well,’ Lord Rupert Gyles put in, shoulders shaking in quiet amusement. ‘But what on earth possessed you to drag him with you to this place, Finch? There are persons enough to fetch wine should you require it, surely?’

This was true enough. Although the owner of the discreet establishment did employ several females to entice customers to part with their money at the various gaming tables, besides encouraging them to drink their fill from his well-stocked cellar, he did attempt to run a respectable house. His lordship wasn’t so na?ve as to suppose more intimate relationships did not take place between certain regular patrons and the immodestly attired young women, but the liaisons were never conducted openly.

All the same, he did wonder what Georgie made of the various young women clad in low-cut diaphanous gowns, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He took his eyes off the cards in his hand in order to glance up at her, only to discover her surprisingly enough staring so fixedly at Lord Chard that it was almost as if she were attempting to etch each and every line of his harsh-featured face into her memory.

Her regard, as she well knew, went far beyond what was pleasing. More disturbing, still, was the possible reaction of Chard himself should he happen to realise he was receiving such close scrutiny. He was no fool. He might so easily pierce her disguise if she gained his full attention for any length of time. This hadn’t occurred thus far. Apart from that first cursory glance, Chard had betrayed no interest in the page whatsoever.

Lord Fincham decided it would be best if it remained that way.

‘Fetch me a bottle and a glass, Georgie,’ he said, after gaining her attention by raising a finger, ‘and then go downstairs and await me in the vestibule.’

It was quite some time later before his lordship, sated with gaming, went in search of her. He found her easily enough in the vestibule where he had sent her, but not asleep, as expected, in one of the comfortable chairs. Surprisingly wide-eyed and alert, she was in deep conversation with one of the young flunkies engaged to man the front entrance, and deny admittance to any undesirables.

As he led the way out into the early morning air, his lordship heard a distant church clock chime the hour, and experienced yet another of those increasingly regular pangs of conscience where the being beside him was concerned. There wasn’t a hackney carriage to be seen, so there was nothing for it but to walk at least part of the way home.

‘You should have been in bed hours ago, Georgie. It was extremely remiss of me to drag you out tonight, most especially to that establishment,’ he announced as they set off down the street, heading for the more affluent part of town.

‘Oh, but I enjoyed it, my lord. For me it was an adventure. I’ve never been to such a place before.’

He couldn’t help smiling at this. ‘No, I don’t suppose for a moment you have. None the less, I shouldn’t have taken you there.’ He cast her a sideways glance. ‘What did you make of it, I wonder?’

She shrugged, appearing remarkably unconcerned. ‘The females are little more than painted doxies, engaged to persuade gentlemen to part with their blunt, I shouldn’t wonder. The doormen were characters, though, rather rough and ready, and certainly not to be trusted. But the one you saw me conversing with was rather interesting. His name’s George, as it happens. He seems to know everyone. Addressed all the visitors by name. And knew a deal about them, too.’

Discovering this did precious little to ease his conscience. He couldn’t help wondering what sordid facts she’d discovered about his fellow gamesters, not to mention himself! ‘Dare I ask what he disclosed about me?’

‘Nothing that I hadn’t discovered for myself already.’ She cast him one of those wickedly provocative smiles that he was finding increasingly endearing. ‘Said you were a downy one, awake on every suit.’

The instant he learned this, his lordship felt it might almost have been a prophecy. He heard a church clock chime the quarter, and detected something else, too—footsteps behind, closing fast. Crossing the street, he glanced over his shoulder and saw two persons lurking in the shadows, and a possible third on the other side of the road.

‘Georgie, perchance, have you any money about your person?’