“Aye, you are your mother’s son all right,” he said. “You have the glare.”
“I will obey my parents,” Callum said stiffly. “I will go to London and seek a wife. But I won’t linger.”
“As to that—”
“I will give myself two months, Angus. I will be needed at home then for the harvest, and so I will return to Bonnyrigg, wife or no’.”
Angus sighed but was wise enough to keep his opinions to himself.
Chapter Two
Jasmyne Street, London
The room waselegant, as was the woman seated on the chaise longue. Fair hair coiled neatly upon her head, and a plain and yet tasteful plum-colored gown showed off her bosom, but modestly. Penelope Armstrong was a beauty. She might be two years off thirty, but she had the sort of ageless good looks that would serve her well into old age.
Penelope had once been a courtesan, but those days were—thankfully—over. The gentleman who had paid for her to live in a house in Chelsea and put the clothes upon her back had died three years ago. She could have found another protector, but the thought made her dreadfully unhappy. Not so much because her lover had died—he was old after all—but because the life she was leading was not the one she wanted. It was a life she had been forced into through circumstance.
She had long wanted to step away from that awful title of “courtesan,” but the truth was she was not trained for any other occupation. Even in normal circumstances, her birth would have made those choices limited—she could choose to be a governess or a companion—but who would employ her when they learned about her past? Though if she was no longer a courtesan, then the future looked stark. How would she afford to eat? And what of her young brother, Mortimer, who was still dependent upon her?
It was her now deceased protector, Lord Muir, who had given her the idea of how she could attain her freedom. One day he had overheard her explaining in detail to another woman—yes, also a courtesan—how she should behave when in the company of aristocratic gentlemen. What to call each of them depending on their title or standing in society, and which of them should receive the deepest curtsy.
Impressed, Lord Muir had declared her a marvel, and only then did it occur to Penelope that she knew things that others didn’t. She had been schooled by a first-rate governess up until she had attended a ladies’ finishing college, so she had many useful skills when it came to manners, rules, and etiquette, and she was an excellent teacher. Once Lord Muir was dead, and she was considering her future, Penelope remembered that moment. She thought of all the newly wealthy people who desperately wanted to consort with blue-blooded aristocrats or dreamed of mingling in polite society, only to be mocked and refused entry because they did not know even the bare rudiments of acceptable behavior.
They needed help, and it was the sort of help Penelope was qualified to give.
For a fee.
At first, after setting up her business, she had struggled. She was a “fallen woman” after all, and would-be clients were wary. But as word spread, mostly due to the whispers of those who had succeeded because of her tuition, Penelope found herself with plenty of eager pupils. She was not wealthy by any means, but her new occupation meant that she did not lie awake at night worrying where the next meal might come from.
Or at least she would not worry if Mortimer did not keep asking her for money. He was perpetually broke and Penelope had a sick feeling that was only the tip of the iceberg. Her father had been a gambler who had wasted his inheritance, and whenhe and her mother died in a coach accident, they had left nothing for their eighteen-year-old daughter and eight-year-old son.
It had been up to Penelope to act as both sister and parent.
She had been embarrassed that she had had to take up the offer of a friend of her father’s, and become his mistress, so that she could put food on the table. She had imagined Mortimer was embarrassed, too, and would be pleased and proud that she had now become respectable. Yet something he had said the other day came to mind.
It was better before.
At the time, she had dismissed his words—he had been cross because she could not loan him the full amount he had asked for—but now she wondered. Did he care so little for her reputation that he would push her back into the scandalous life she had escaped, just so he could have more spending money?
She shifted restlessly upon the chaise longue. No, surely her brother would not do such a thing. And yet... she loved him dearly, but she was beginning to think she might have spoiled him by always giving way to his demands. Perhaps it was time she said no.
She looked across the room to Selina, her maid and closest friend, who was arranging some flowers in a vase. “What time was the gentleman’s appointment?” she asked, with a glance at the ticking clock on the mantel.
“Now!” Selina said with a frown. “I wonder where he is?” She went to peer out of the window that overlooked the street. “There is no one at the door. Perhaps he has changed his mind.”
“Changed his mind?” Penelope scoffed. “After the incident at the Yeos’, I think he would know he needs all the help he can get.”
Selina smiled broadly, her pretty, mature face creasing into familiar lines. She was no longer the young girl who had dressed Penelope’s mother, but she had become a dear friend.
Details of theincident at the Yeos’had been spread far and wide, and there had been universal wonder and condemnation that the son of the Duke of Bonnyrigg lacked such basic social skills. “Barbarian” was one of the words affixed to him, as well as “brute”. It was not a good start for someone who had only just arrived in London.
“Did he really attack the table decoration?” Selina asked, eyes bright. “I wish I could have seen it.”
“One of my old school friends was there—the only one who still speaks to me—and she said he believed the stuffed boar was about to run rampant among the guests.” Penelope replied in her usual droll manner, but she was grinning too. “I suppose that his actions could have been considered brave. Boars are dangerous, particularly in Scotland. Ellie said that before it happened, the ladies had all been swooning at the sight of him, but now no one will invite him anywhere.”
Selina laughed and then gave an enormous shiver. She looked to the hearth and the half empty basket that sat there. “Is that all the coal we have for the fire? It is freezing in here.”
“Put more clothes on,” Penelope suggested. “We won’t get any more coal until next week, and even then I have ordered a lesser quantity. You know how stretched we are at the moment, Selina. I had to loan Mortimer some more money.”
