The Impossible Earl

He waved a hand, indicating that she should enter the door he was opening. She did, and Clarissa meekly followed behind. Leonora wondered what her friend thought of the verbal battle raging between herself and the Earl.

In truth, she scarcely knew why she was being so difficult, except that the entire situation had taken her completely by surprise. White’s, Boodle’s and Brooks’s in London could be regarded as respectable, she supposed, but even so a man could lose a fortune in an evening. The less respectable clubs often set out to fleece their clients.

Unable to meet the high membership fees demanded by White’s and the like, her father had fallen victim to such a one on his last visit to Town, a circumstance which had undoubtedly given her a jaundiced view of small clubs like the Vitus. His losses had, in effect, caused his death. He had sold his carriages and horses and his hunters, and been thrown by a devilish animal with an evil eye, the best mount he could afford.

“So no one should deal in the selling of wine or spirits and thus incite drunkenness and delirium tremens?” remarked Kelsey smoothly as he walked to the centre of what must be his parlour-cum-dining room.

Leonora, unwilling to confide her true reasons for her antagonism, chose to ignore this irrelevance while busily occupying herself with looking about. The room was tastefully decorated and comfortably furnished with armchairs. The dining table was small, large enough only for intimate dinners. He would not eat here often, she supposed, he would take his meals in the Club. A side board held an array of decanters and glasses. Leonora could not fault the condition of the place.

“The bedroom is through here,” said Kelsey smoothly, opening a communicating door leading to the back room.

Not to be hurried or intimidated, Leonora finished her survey of the room she was in before walking through with her chin in the air. Clarissa, reared in the genteel confines of a rectory, held back. Kelsey, a hand in the small of her back, guided her through. Clarissa’s colour flared. Her colourless lashes fluttered, revealing and then hiding the pale blue eyes raised to meet the Earl’s.

Turning, Leonora felt a small shock run through her. Clarissa was flirting with his lordship! Her voice, therefore, was sharp as she called for her attention.

“Miss Worth! I hope you have continued to make notes?”

“I did not realise that there was anything to write,” said Clarissa placidly. “You have found no other fault, I believe?”

“No. But that fact must be recorded, too. Hall, parlour and bedroom are all in excellent order.”

“I am glad you find them so, madam,” came Kelsey’s rather amused voice. She had scarcely glanced at the bedroom and in her hurry had ignored the middle-aged gentleman’s gentleman occupied in tidying his master’s clothes beside a cubicle containing a cupboard and washstand, and he knew it. He might not intimidate her, but his huge canopied bed did.

“There are other rooms on this floor, I believe,” Leonora said, making speedily for the door to the hall.

Kelsey followed her out of his bedroom, a small smile denting one corner of his mobile mouth. He crossed to the door next that of his office. “Only one. This is Sinclair’s room. I have arranged with him that you should be admitted.”

Leonora merely raised her brows at this piece of nonsense. She had every right to be admitted!

Kelsey knocked. A voice bade them enter.

Sinclair had risen and met them near the door, his manner almost effusive.

“Good morning, Miss Vincent. I believe you wish to inspect my room?”

Leonora gave him her sweetest smile. “I merely wish to discover the general condition of the part of the building Lord Kelsey rents,” she explained.

“Then you must be quite reassured,” observed Sinclair, returning her smile and transferring it to Kelsey as a grin. “He is most particular and Mrs Parkes is an able housekeeper.”

“Your apartment looks comfortable, clean and well-decorated,” observed Leonora. “You are well suited here?”

“Indeed, madam, I am happy in my accommodation and my association with his lordship. As you can see, he has provided me with every comfort. Is there anything else you wish to know?”

“I think not,” said Leonora, noting that he had a small desk in his room, at which he had been working, as well as a dining table and chairs, a well-stocked side board, several armchairs and a narrow bed behind a screen in one corner. “Thank you, Mr Sinclair. Miss Worth, note only that there is a little paint peeling from the window frame.”

“There is?” murmured Kelsey, his brows rising. “You did not tell me, Sinclair.”

“I thought the matter too trifling,” said the manager.

They all dutifully inspected a small area near the sill where the paint had flaked.

“Strictly, it is,” said the Earl. “But I will undertake to have it touched up. And now, madam, if you are satisfied with this floor, we can mount the stairs to see those rooms I use for the Club. I fear we must not linger, for the doors will open in half an hour. I will lead the way.”

“Very well.”

This flight of stairs was wider than the next one leading up to her rooms, as she had already noted. It was usual, of course, for stairs to become narrower the higher they climbed. She became even more determined to gain possession of the lower rooms, particularly the main rooms served by the wider staircase, as soon as possible. Otherwise, how was she ever to receive?

“This is the Dining Room,” he said, ushering them into one of the back rooms through an already half-open door. “But you may even think that selling food holds out the danger of encouraging gluttony?”

He wanted to throw ridicule on her views. The question in his voice held the ring of irony. Leonora shook an angry head.

“Pray do not be absurd,” she snapped. “If a man chooses to drink or eat himself to death, he does not necessarily leave his family bereft of anything but his presence. A man who is stripped, of intent, of all he owns and dies deeply in debt, leaves a destitute family. There is a difference.”

There was a considering look in the slate-grey eyes. Leonora flushed again, conscious that she may have given away more of her past than she had intended.

He bowed. “I give you best, madam. A prudent, honest gentleman will have a care for others. It is the imprudent who find themselves with pockets to let, be it through over-indulgence in the good things of life or in gambling.”

“Imprudent? Maybe.”

Leonora stood by one of the circular tables, her fingers smoothing the polished mahogany surface. Her father, for one, had not in general behaved rashly. She collected her scattered thoughts and looked about her.

Like others of its size the table was set about with four padded chairs. Some were meant only for two, one for a larger party. White damask cloths were already in course of being spread and cutlery placed in position. The clatter of continuing activity distracted her for a moment.

She realised that it would be pleasant to eat in this room, with its buff walls divided into panels outlined in blue, while above gold leaf and blue paint decorated the wide cornice. A gilt—it could scarcely be gold—chandelier holding dozens of candles and dripping with crystal hung from the centre. Rich damask curtains matched the blue and gold chair seats.

She stirred, only now ready to finish what she had begun to say. “But gambling is like a fever. The compulsion can be caught; once in its grip, an individual is helpless until the bout is over.”

“The addictive compulsion to alcohol is equally deadly, Miss Vincent, particularly for the poor, where families starve because the father spends what little he earns on drink. Yet alehouses remain open and merchants continue to peddle spirits without rousing condemnation. I see no reason why I should be damned for providing the facilities for gentlemen to eat, drink and amuse themselves in congenial company.”

He shrugged his immaculately clad shoulders. “I no more encourage anyone to indulge to excess than does your wine merchant or the hostess who sets up card tables in her home. The stakes at the tables here may be a little higher than at a rout or at the Assembly Rooms, but that is the gambler’s choice, not mine.”

He was, she realised, attempting to justify himself and using all his charm to win her over. He did have a point, if what he said was true. But how could she know that it was? He must take a percentage of the stakes. She shook her head, the slightest of involuntary movements. The very fact that he had chosen to profit from the frailties of others must condemn him.

She met his dark, quizzical eyes without flinching, going straight to what she conceived to be the weakest part of his argument. “You set no limit on the stakes, I collect.”

He shrugged shoulders encased in immaculate blue broadcloth. The shadows on his neckcloth shifted and changed but his expression did not. Not a trace of guilt showed in his manner. “No, madam. A man must have somewhere to go where he is allowed to do as he determines.”

“To go to hell if that is his choice?”

“Exactly, madam.”

Leonora’s soft lips compressed into a tight line before she said, “I should prefer such an activity to take place somewhere other than beneath my roof.”

“I regret, Miss Vincent, that I cannot oblige you in that respect. Have you seen all that you require in here?”

So he wanted to abandon the argument for the moment. Leonora’s frustration grew. Nothing she could say or do could shift him.

She could feel nothing but righteous pleasure that she had made her position so abundantly clear. She had no desire to prolong the argument. What she did most urgently want was to find some flaw in his lordship’s tenancy agreement or in his adherence to it, which would allow her to evict him.

“Yes,” she answered him. “This room is in excellent repair.” The double doors leading to the front room stood open. She moved to pass through. “This is the Reading Room?”

“As you can see, Miss Vincent.”

If anything, it was decorated, furnished and equipped in better style than the Dining Room. High-backed armchairs, each with a small table beside it, predominated. Where the walls were not lined with shelves bearing books, they were painted cream with white, blue and gold decorated panels. Rich brown velvet curtains hung at the windows.

Besides the central chandelier and a number of wall brackets, a branch of candles stood on the table by each chair, ready to be lit with a taper from the jar standing near the grate where a fire was already burning. The supply of candles must form one of his greatest expenses, she thought, he was so lavish with his lighting. One side-table had newspapers spread upon it while another held an array of glasses. The drink itself must be out of sight in the locked cupboard behind the main door.

Leonora found herself fingering the leather spines of some of the books. Perhaps she allowed her longing to show. His lordship lifted a brow and smiled. Sweat pricked uncomfortably under her arms and a pulse throbbed in her throat. She would so much rather he had not smiled in the way he had, in warm enquiry rather than in censure or irony.

“You would be most welcome to borrow a volume at any time, Miss Vincent,” he invited. “Although,” he added, “you would require to come down at about this hour to make your choice, while the room is unoccupied.”

“Thank you.” Despite the unwelcome response his smile had provoked and the caveat about the time, she wanted to explore the books so much she found she could not hide her pleasure. “I had feared I would miss the library at Thornestone Park, but I expected that there would be a subscription library in the town?”

“There is, in Milsom Street.”

“Then between the two I shall not lack for something to read.”

“Reading can give great joy, can it not?” he remarked, apparently with all sincerity. “No doubt, as a governess, you have felt the need to extend your knowledge.”

“I have enjoyed reading since I was a child,” responded Leonora, inordinately annoyed that he should think her interest in reading due entirely to the profession forced upon her.

He bowed slightly in acknowledgment of her protestation. He said, “If you would care to come through, I will show you the other rooms,” and opened the door to the landing.

Card rooms, of course, were a feature of every large house, of every Assembly Room, and card tables graced every private gathering. She could never have entered any level of society had she not been willing to play cards and lay down her stake, however small! Kelsey had known this and deliberately misunderstood her. The more generous perception she had begun to have of him suffered on this reflection.

So she entered the other front room with a frown between her brows, her eyes narrowed, looking for evidence of foul play or sharp practice.

“The Card Room is reserved for those desirous of playing whist,” said Kelsey. He regarded her frown, the intent expression in her grey-blue-green eyes, with relaxed amusement.

As well he might. It was impossible to tell, of course. The room was equipped with perfectly ordinary green baize-covered tables large enough for four people to sit around, with a candle and an unbroken pack of cards on each. And the decorations, as elsewhere, proved to be both tasteful and faultless.

“Nothing to be done,” she said abruptly to Clarissa, who faithfully recorded the verdict.

Here again, double doors led through to the back room. This was fitted out rather differently. A large padded, baize-covered table predominated, with small tables and their attendant chairs scattered about in random fashion.

“This is the Gaming Room,” Kelsey informed her. “Members are free to play whatever they like in here. Vingt-et-un and other games involving many participants are played at the large table, piquet, cribbage, dominoes and dice at the smaller ones.

“That book there,” he went on, pointing to a leather-bound ledger-like article, “records all the non-gaming bets and the stakes laid between members. Gentlemen will wager on anything under the sun, as you must know. But once a bet is recorded in there, no gentleman can deny its existence or refuse to honour the debt. I do not make the book,” he observed mildly. “I merely keep the record.”

“Has anyone,” asked Leonora fiercely, “ever lost their inheritance in here? Gambled away the deeds of their property?”

Kelsey’s face remained inscrutable. “Would you like to be the first to do so, Miss Vincent?” he asked amiably.

“You are unbelievable, my lord!” cried Leonora. “You are suggesting that I should bet my ownership of this property on the winning of a game of cards? What, may I ask, would be my reward should I win?”

“I should set my lease against your deeds,” responded his lordship imperturbably.

“Ha!” exclaimed Leonora. “And both of us are very sure that you would win! No, my lord, you cannot bamboozle me in that fashion! I was not born yesterday!”

“No,” he agreed, his gaze considering. “You are certainly not in the first flush of youth, Miss Vincent.”

Her choke of shocked outrage and Clarissa’s surprised gasp almost overset him. Lights danced in the dark eyes and his mouth gave an involuntary twitch. Leonora was too angry to notice.

“You are no gentleman, sir!” she managed to gasp.

“But then, madam, you do not behave like a lady,” came the instant riposte. He bowed languidly and gave her a lazy smile. “May we not call a truce while you inspect the last room over which I have temporary dominion? May I show you the office?”

“You may show me the office, my lord, but I do not accept your truce. I shall proceed to my lawyer’s rooms immediately after breakfast.”

“That will be your privilege, madam.” He sounded not in the least perturbed.

She scarcely looked at the small room above the entrance hall, where an elderly clerk sat on a tall stool working at a sloping desk surrounded by shelves and strong-boxes. She could not escape Kelsey’s presence soon enough. She flounced off up the narrowed stairs, her front-door key conspicuous in her hand, with Clarissa following meekly behind.

And did not see the amused, reluctant admiration with which Blaise Dancer, Earl of Kelsey, watched her undoubtedly attractive posterior disappear from his view.

Chapter Three

Despite her fury, Leonora managed to consume two soft-boiled eggs and several crusty white rolls spread with butter, and to drink two cups of coffee. Anger made her hungry and the food was delicious.

“An excellent repast,” offered Clarissa as she, too, pushed her plate aside. She had broken her fast with kidneys and bacon.

“Yes.” Leonora was in no mood to be fulsome over anything which had its origins in Kelsey’s management. “Can you be ready to go out in half an hour?”

“I am ready now, except for my bonnet and cloak. Shall you take a sedan chair? I believe there is a rank nearby. Dolly should be able to find it.”

“Not this morning,” Leonora decided. “Mr Coggan’s chambers in High Street cannot be far away and I should like to see something of the town.”

“Oh, so should I,” cried Clarissa, her pale eyes shining. “I am so grateful to you for bringing me here, Leonora! The very atmosphere makes me feel quite young and giddy!”

“Does it?” So far, Leonora had not felt either young or giddy but that was because of the infamous use to which the Earl of Kelsey was putting her property. The only feelings she had known were those of uncomfortable awareness of his lordship’s personal charm and frustration and anger at his attitude. And utter mortification that he should think her old.

Mortification brought a lowering sense of unease to her entire being and she could feel a flush rising up her neck when she remembered his look and words. She would hazard a guess that she was several years younger than he was. But then, he was a man. He did not have to fear that his child-bearing years were dwindling with depressing rapidity.

She must make her utmost endeavours to have his lordship evicted. She jumped to her feet. “If you are ready, then we may leave immediately,” she declared. “Dolly, my bonnet, my cloak, gloves and muff if you please.”

She, like Clarissa, already wore her pelisse, for the morning was chilly and the fires had not yet had time to make the rooms warm.

Dolly dropped the dishes she was clearing with a clatter and rushed out, hurrying along the landing to the dressing room. Leonora followed her, shivering slightly at leaving even the comparative warmth of the dining room. She glanced quickly into the rather mottled mirror above her uncle’s dressing chest—she must do something about mirrors as soon as possible—as Dolly handed her her bonnet, and examined her features as best she could.

She undoubtedly lacked the fresh bloom of real youth, the bloom she had possessed at eighteen when her parents had died. But she did not look old.

He had not said that she did. He had only spoken the truth in such a way as to imply it. Devil take the man! Her soft mouth tightened as she determinedly thrust all thought of Lord Kelsey behind her. She did not have to think about him to arrange the termination of a lease.

With her outer garments on, she bobbed about and stood on tiptoe to see as much of herself as she could.

Depression settled in. No wonder the man was so scathing about her appearance. She looked every inch what she had been—a governess. She would never engage the attentions of a suitable gentleman of means dressed as she was. The second thing she must do was to buy some new clothes. Mr Coggan would know about her money, though she would doubtless be able to purchase what she needed on credit.

She passed through the comparative warmth of her bedroom to pick up her reticule and emerged on the chilly landing to find Clarissa waiting.

“You know what to do, Dolly,” said Leonora to her hovering maid. “Take the dirty breakfast things downstairs to the scullery and then come back and clean the rooms. Remember, we found the brooms and dusters in there.” She indicated the dark oak cupboard standing on the landing. “Have your dinner with the rest of the staff. I shall not trouble Monsieur André on the way out.”

She did not wish to make a production of her use of the back entrance but to slip out, as far as possible, unseen. “Tell him that I shall dine at four o’clock,” she went on. “If there is mutton I should like that, but otherwise whatever is available. I cannot fuss over what we shall eat today. Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes, miss,” said Dolly fervently.

She was devoted and willing and not the most able girl she had ever dealt with, but Leonora liked her and appreciated the effort the child made to please.

“By the way,” she said as an afterthought, turning back with her hand already on the knob of the door to the back stairs, “is your bed comfortable? You slept well?”

“The room’s lovely, miss, such a nice view as I’ve got, over the trees. I slept like a log.”

“Capital,” said Leonora with a smile. “I’ll leave you, then. Don’t forget to keep the fires stoked.”

“No, miss,” said Dolly with another bob.

Having descended the stairs, the two ladies passed through the scullery without speaking to the cook, who was busy at the far end of the kitchen.

Leonora’s only real disappointment in the actual property she had inherited was its lack of a garden, but the leafy green fronting it largely made up for this deficiency. It was, after all, a town house built before John Wood and his son had begun to build the Palladian-style terraces, with long gardens at the rear, which now prevailed in Bath. She was, indeed, rather glad that Morris House stood in isolation.

Mounting the back-area steps, they found themselves in a street they soon discovered was called Abbeygate.

“Which way?” wondered Leonora.

“The Abbey will be in the town,” suggested Clarissa.

Its tower beckoned. “Very well,” decided Leonora, “we will go to the Abbey and ask our way from there.”

“It truly is a huge building,” murmured Clarissa as they walked its length to arrive at the West Front. “Dare we go in?”

“It is so,” agreed Leonora “But we must not linger. I have no appointment and we may have to wait to see the lawyer.”

“We could attend a service here on Sunday,” suggested Clarissa.

“Perhaps,” said Leonora. She did not intend to be seen in public before she had acquired a more becoming wardrobe.

High Street was nearby and they had no difficulty in finding Mr Coggan’s offices. He, it seemed, was free to see Miss Vincent immediately.

“Good luck,” murmured Clarissa as she took the seat offered by a clerk and prepared to wait.

Leonora was ushered into a dimly lit room where she discovered a youngish man in legal garb, who rose from a chair behind a desk strewn with parchments and papers intertwined with red tape, to greet her.

“Miss Vincent! A privilege to meet you,” he cried, bowing deeply before asking her to be seated and sitting down again himself. “Sadly,” he went on, “I never knew Mr Charles Vincent, but Mr Warwick asked me to represent him here in Bath, and to act in your interests as beneficiary under Mr Vincent’s Will. You have appointed him to act for you in other matters?”

“No,” said Leonora, frowning. “He is, I suppose, not acting for me but for my uncle still, as his executor. It did not occur to me that I myself had need for a lawyer.”

“I should be delighted…should you think it in your interests…should it please you…to act for you in whatever way you might need, Miss Vincent,” he said, eagerly yet with a diffidence which appealed to Leonora.

He was really quite a personable creature, even distinguished, in his wig. He was young, keen and surely ambitious. He might be just the one to take on the Earl.

“You have met Lord Kelsey?” she asked, without committing herself.