A wave of annoyed confusion settled over Judith, making her head ache.Only three weeks? But Edmund had declared...“This is provable?”
He gave a single nod. “There are records of the transactions. The partial purchase of the gaming hell is an investment to help out an old friend.”
“Sir Rory Campbell.”
His eyebrows arched. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Sir Rory is set to inherit a title, money, and a rather large estate from his uncle. He wishes to divest himself of some of his less reputable properties before that happens. He foolishly desires to find a wife among the waifs of the Beau Monde and believes becoming more respectable will help those efforts as well as his position in Society as his uncle’s heir. Eventually, I will buy him out completely.”
“Because you are less concerned with reputation.”
“I believe we have established that much already.”
“And where did you get the money? You are a second son. I know your family is generous, but I cannot see your mother—or your brother, for that matter—approving such a thing enough to fund it.”
“I have my own sources of income.”
“Such as?”
He shifted uncomfortably as the carriage drew to a halt. “I believe, madam, that we are here to discuss your stepson’s lack of fortune. Not the acquisition of my own.”
Rotter.Judith really did want to box his ears. “As they are entwined with yours to his detriment, I find all related topics up for discussion. Do you or do you not hold most of his vowels? His debts? Have you not, in fact, called those debts to account, escalating his situation and desperation?”
The door opened, and they fell silent. After a frozen moment, Judith moved to exit, accepting the footman’s arm. She stepped away on the pavement, turned... and her breath caught.
Mark Rydell’s lips were almost as pale as his face, and fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Both footmen moved forward to help him down, and he leaned heavily on each until he could regain his balance. He walked a bit easier than he had at the ball, but his progress remained slow and calculated, with a great deal of weight on the cane. His mouth twisted into a smirk as he caught her expression. “As I said, I am not capable of anything untoward.”
“You looked more healed at the ball.”
“I am progressing. But it has been a rather eventful three days, and I may have overestimated the level of my recovery.”
Judith paused as the footmen remounted and the carriage lumbered away. “Then you have not rested as someone in your condition should have?”
He held one arm wide, even as he braced on the cane with the other. “The life of a rake is never dull.” He looked up at the brick-and-timber building before them, his eyes lingering on the name stenciled on a curtained window next to the door:Le salon de thé d’Adélaïde.“Who is Adelaide?”
“You will see.” Judith suddenly ached to inquire whether he were truly up to this meeting, then decided that he would not have come if he could not manage it. And she thought he wanted answers from her almost as much as she did from him.
Rydell opened the door and held it for her. She entered, pausing inside to inhale the delicious aromas of pastries, teas, and seasoned meats, and to let her eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. Judith adored this establishment, with its low, heavily beamed ceiling, small tables, and ambiance of feminine rebellion.
Rydell closed the door behind him. “It does smell heavenly. And not at all like the normal ladies’ tearoom. More like a pub for women.”
“Wait till you taste her clotted cream.”
“Lady Sculthorpe! My darling Judith!” Adelaide’s clear alto echoed through the room as she approached, the shawl draped around her arms and tucked underneath her elbows flowing and weaving as much as her voluminous, multicolored skirts did as she made her way through the tables of customers.
Judith heard Rydell chuckle as Adelaide, her wild red tresses of hair ebbing and flowing about her head, engulfed Judith in a hug.
“My darling lady, it has been too long. I was so thrilled when I received your message. And this is the gentleman you referenced?”
“It is.”
Adelaide gave Rydell a quick study, head to toe. “Well, he is much more handsome—and older—than I imagined, althoughhe does look as if he has spent far too much time in the boxing salons.” She turned and motioned for them to follow. “I have saved the best table for you,ma chérie. Come.”
They did, moving through the small tearoom, whose customers—unlike those at Gunter’s—kept their eyes on their own teacups and their voices low. Women with women, women with men not their husbands, men with men. A community of secrets. Adelaide led Mark and Judith to the back of the central room, then down a short hallway to an alcove with one table and four chairs. A fine linen cloth covered the tabletop, and two formal place settings lay waiting for an afternoon tea. Although no door closed off the entryway, the privacy of the space impressed Judith. Only one other alcove branched from the small hallway, currently empty.
“Please sit. I will bring sustenance.” Adelaide bustled out of the room, muttering to herself.
Rydell waited for Judith to sit, then slowly eased down onto a chair facing the door, bracing on his cane and the back of the chair. “The lady is definitely not of the Beau Monde.”
Judith grinned and shifted in her seat, smoothing her skirts and arranging them around her ankles. “She is and she is not. Adelaide is the youngest daughter of an earl. She ran away to stay with an aunt in Moravia before she could debut. Her father brought her back after the Battle of Austerlitz for safekeeping, but Adelaide had never been one to conform to the ways of theton. She opened this tearoom for like-minded people. Her father has never disowned her, but you will not find her at many family gatherings or Society events. But the ladies of thetonvalue this tearoom far too much to ever give her a cut direct.”
