“I have a standing engagement on Mondays and Wednesdays,” he said, with a certain satisfaction.
Those were the days he tutored several young gentlemen in composition and decorum to supplement his income, though he wouldn’t reveal the depths of his poverty by sharing this information with Miss Danby.
“And I’m needed in the House of Lords at the end of the week.” He couldn’t find the time to attend every sitting, but he made a point to go when the business was something important.
“Tuesday then.” She pushed the card in his direction once more, and he finally took it. One glance at the address told him everything he needed to know about her family’s place in the world. She was waiting for him to return the gesture, her hand still outstretched. There was no avoiding it. Lyman fumbled in his breast pocket and produced his own card. Miss Danby frowned as she read it. “But this only has your publisher’s address.”
“Yes, I prefer my mail to be sent here. It saves any overeager readers from turning up at my door. In any case, there’s no need for you to call on me. I’ll come to you.”
Mercifully, Miss Danby didn’t question the explanation. She merely tucked his card away and took a bite of her pastry, which seemed to signal that the discussion was complete. Her sister hadn’t said a word the whole time. What sort of family had Miss Danby come from, to turn out so bold? It didn’t seem to be a shared trait.
Well, he would soon have the opportunity to see them up close.
“I almost forgot,” Lyman said. “I’ve finished my revisions.” He pulled the parcel from the crook of his arm and presented it to Mr. Armstrong, who took it with a smile.
“Ah, wonderful. I wasn’t expecting these until next week.”
“I made it a priority.”
“Very well, very well. Please see Bradshaw on your way out, and we’ll make an appointment to go over this with me next month. You can let me know then how things are progressing with Miss Danby’sbook.”
“Might I attend, if the meeting is to concern me?” Miss Danby batted her eyes very fetchingly at Armstrong. “I’m sure I could learn a great deal by observing your work.”
She knows exactly how to get what she wants, that one.Lyman really was being made to pay for his initial refusal. If it weren’t so intrusive, he might almost have admired Miss Danby’s cunning.
“Of course,” Armstrong agreed, without missing a beat. “We’ll draw up a contract for you and Lord Ashton to sign then. Please bring your father with you. I trust you’ll want him to look over the terms.”
There was finally a reaction from Miss Annabelle, who hid a smirk behind her gloved hand. Her elder sister shot her a furious look before she replied to Armstrong. “I’ll…bring my brother.”
Why not the father?They couldn’t be orphans, or her sister wouldn’t have smiled that way. Perhaps their parents didn’t approve of Miss Danby’s more risqué endeavors.Interesting.Lyman made a mental note to use that to his advantage, should the need arise.
He might not have chosen this situation, but he could still come out on top, one way or another.
Lyman took his leave of Armstrong and the Danby sisters, plucked a pastry from the tray, and went to go see about his advance.
Whatever else might have gone wrong today, he’d made a bit of money, with the promise of more to follow if Miss Danby could be made to produce her manuscript in good time. That was all he could afford to care about now.
***
“Peter, I need your help with something.” Della began this conversation with no preamble, finding her brother alone in his study at three in the afternoon with a glass of brandy or two behind him already.
Like Della, Peter had brown eyes, light brown hair, and a figure that tended toward plumpness. He was two years her junior, but he had the irritating habit of behaving as though he were somehow her intellectual superior on account of his sex. This wouldn’t have been so bad if Peter had distinguished himself in any way, but as he had thus far done nothing at all with his life, Della detested the conceit.
“What’s this?” He looked up from a puzzle box he’d been toying with and blinked at her entrance. Della didn’t often intrude upon his time.
“I need a male relative to approve a legal matter for me in a few weeks. It won’t require much on your part. Just wear something smart and say ‘I thoroughly agree’ once or twice, and then we can go home. Only let’s not bother Papa with it; it’s hardly worthy of mention.”
“This isn’t to do with your club, is it?” Peter narrowed his eyes. He had never been impressed by Della’s business, though he spent enough of his own time lounging around Brooks’s to have paid for an additional wing by now.
“No,” she said curtly. “It’s another matter entirely.”
“If you want my help, you’re going to have to tell me what.”
Drat.Della should have known there would be no avoiding it. She straightened her shoulders and tried to adopt a nonchalant tone, as if this were a perfectly ordinary project. “I’ve reached a tentative agreement with a publisher to produce a lady’s guide to the sights of—”
She made it no further before Peter’s groan drowned out her words. “It’s bad enough you run a gambling club. Now you want to write a book, as well? Why can’t you be a normal sister, and spend your time at charities? It’s embarrassing, Della.”
“It’s to be published anonymously,” she protested. “So it won’t cause you any more embarrassment than you currently suffer.”
