Jade Lee - Wedded in Scandal

“No, my lord,” she said gently. “I am speaking of your fully grown sister who will be a married woman within a month. And quite possibly increasing soon after that.”

He shuddered at that. His baby sister with a babe of her own. He knew it was possible. Probable, even. That is what married women did, was it not? But in his mind, she was still so young.

“It is the way of young girls, you know. They grow up and start families of their own.” Then Mrs. Mortimer did something wholly unexpected. She rose in a single lithe movement and crossed to the brandy snifter. Then she poured him a glass, swirling it for him just as it ought to be done, and brought it to him. But she didn’t just cross to his side; she set it in his hand, then sank to the floor before him. She looked up at him just as his sister had once done, back when she was still a hoyden running wild throughout the house. And Mrs. Mortimer smiled up at him in exactly the same way.

“Change is hard, especially when it is inevitable. But you should be proud of the woman she has become, my lord. Not fighting the purchase of her trousseau.”

He swallowed. She was right. And when she sat like that before him, he could deny her nothing. Except for one thing.

“Mrs. Mortimer,” he said as he reached out and stroked her cheek just as he had done with Gwen so many years ago. “I cry foul.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Gwen does not have a ball gown such as you describe. It has not been made and you and your bill are false.” She made to leap to her feet, but he was faster than she. Within a second, he had clamped a hand down on her arm, preventing her escape. “Oh, do remain right where you are, Mrs. Mortimer. It will no doubt take a few moments for the constable to arrive.”

“No, no, wait!” cried Helaine, as she desperately tried to free herself. She might as easily tilt with an oak tree. “I am not lying!”

Lord Redhill’s dark eyes glittered down at her. “You know why I told you that story about my father and his bootblack?”

She shook her head. She had no idea except that it had lulled her into flirting with the man. Flirting! She hadn’t done that since she’d been a respectable earl’s daughter and not Mrs. Mortimer. She licked her lips. “My lord…,” she began, but he cut her off.

“Because in this one aspect, Mrs. Mortimer, I am nothing like my father. I cannot abide a thief no matter how charming. And you, my dear, are obviously one of the best.”

“I am not!” she cried, horrified that tears were welling up. With one simple exchange, she had been transported right back to five years before, when she protested her innocence to no avail. She’d been honest her entire life, then her father committed one drunken, thieving stupidity, and she was tarred with the same feather. The humiliation of that memory pushed her to a strength she did not normally possess. She shoved him off, though her arm was nearly wrenched from its socket, and stumbled backward.

“Call your sister!” she cried. Then she did not wait for his high and mighty lordship to do it. She whirled around and bellowed. “Dribbs! Call Lady Gwen down here immediately!”

She could tell that surprised Lord Redhill. It also seemed to stun Dribbs, who opened the door with his mouth hanging ajar.

“My lord?” he asked.

“Call Lady Gwen,” she ordered even though the question had not been directed at her.

Dribbs glanced anxiously between his employer and Helaine. “Lady Gwen has left with the other ladies. They have decided to buy a flock of sheep for the porcelain shepherdess.”

Helaine took a moment to comprehend that statement. Then she decided there was no profit to figuring it out. The point was that Gwen was not here to help her. Meanwhile, Lord Redhill took it as another sign of her perfidy.

“How convenient for you,” he drawled. “I’m sure you saw her leave before you arrived at my doorstep.”

“It is not blasted convenient!” she snapped. “And you are a bloody prig for saying it is!”

If his lordship was surprised by her tone before, now he was downright flabbergasted. Or perhaps furious. It was hard to tell with his eyes glittering so brightly and his jaw tightened to granite.

“Have a care, Mrs. Mortimer. I have been indulgent up to now, but my patience is exhausted.”

“Then you should not go accusing people of thievery!” To her shame, her voice broke on the word. So she forced herself to take a deep breath, to push aside all the shame her father’s crimes had created, and to face Lord Redhill like the competent, accomplished and strong woman she was. “If you would do me the favor of listening, my lord, I shall explain everything.”

He arched a brow then leaned back in his chair. “By all means, explain yourself,” he drawled. He meant to appear casual, but she could tell that he was anything but. He meant to see her hang, so she went into her explanation as if her life depended on it. Especially since it very well might.

“I adore your sister,” she began. “She is a beautiful woman with a sweet temperament. A genuinely good person, and that, my lord, recommends her to me as nothing else.”

“I am well aware of my sister’s accomplishments,” he said, his voice just short of threatening. “And that she also, unfortunately, shares in my father’s gullibility.”

And there was the threat. Helaine merely glared it aside.

“If you recall, I have been making dresses for your sister for her last two Seasons.” She could see by his face that he did not recall, and so she amended her statement. “Whether you recall or not, I have been dressing her and I’m quite proud to do it. So when she requested that I create her wedding trousseau, I was more than happy to do it.”

“Of course you were,” he drawled.

“I was,” she continued, again glaring her fury at him. “But I most specifically informed her of my problem.”

He arched his brow and for the first time did not venture an opinion.

“I am a small shop, my lord. Lady Gwen wants a large trousseau and she asked that I also dress her future in-laws as well. But it is more than my small shop can afford on credit.”

She paused a moment and stared at him. Obviously he did not understand the most simple financial terms. That surprised her, given that he was by all accounts skilled in financial circles.

“My lord,” she began again, “I cannot afford to buy the fabrics she requires. I do not have the ready blunt. And so Lady Gwen promised that she would pay for it. In advance.”

And there it was out. The unheard-of practice of not buying on credit. For many in her position, it was a fact of life. For his lordship? He’d probably never even imagined the idea.

She waited in taut silence, wondering if he would answer. In the end, he leaned forward, steepling his hands in front of him on the desk.

“Is that why Starkweather refused to pay you? Because it was for goods you had not yet delivered?”

She nodded. “I explained everything to Lady Gwen and she did agree to my terms.”

He grimaced. “So again my relations are bent on making financial commitments that I am supposed to honor.”

Helaine winced. Put like that, she did feel a bit sorry for the man. But she was not in a position to allow sympathy. “That is the usual way of things, is it not? She is your sister. You or your father pays her bills until she marries.”

He snorted. “My father hasn’t a groat to his name.”

“Then it falls to you.”

He didn’t respond except to stare at her, his eyes glittering with some unnamed emotion. In truth, the sight gave her chills. “My lord,” she offered gently, “if you wish to change the way of the world, I heartily support you. Give your sister charge of her financial affairs and I shall address myself to her. I can tell you that there are myriad benefits to a woman when she manages her own affairs.”

He lifted his brow. “I am sure you can,” he drawled.

She detected no outright condescension in his tone, but she bristled nonetheless. “You have no cause to judge me, my lord. I am merely an honest woman plying her trade like any man.”

He closed his eyes in apparent weariness. “That is not a recommendation, I assure you. Men lie and cheat all the time.”

How well she knew that. “But I do not.”

He opened his eyes, and for a moment she wished he had not. In it, she saw pain mixed with weariness. It was stark and reminded her of her own mirror every morning.

“Very well,” he said. “You have persuaded me.”

His voice was so deadpan that she did not understand his words. “So, you will pay me?”

He shook his head. “Hardly. I believe your bill beyond ridiculous. But I shall this very afternoon open an account for my sister. Then she shall have the decision of whether to pay your outrageous fee or not.”

And with that he stood, turning to Dribbs, who had not left the library door. “Fetch my coat immediately. And show Mrs. Mortimer to the door.” A moment later, he was gone.

“Bloody arrogant, high-handed, drunken bastard! To suggest that I was robbing them! Robbing! He was going to call the constable!”

Helaine paced the workroom of their small shop, trying to work off her fury. It didn’t help. She still felt bruised and humiliated by her treatment that afternoon.

“He bloody well didn’t, did he?” gasped Wendy, her seamstress, co-owner in their shop, and her best friend in the world. She was currently cutting the last of their silk fabric for a dress that would go to the bastard-in-question’s sister. Sadly, if they didn’t get paid soon, they wouldn’t be able to purchase what they needed for any of the rest of her order. “Imagine calling the watch on you!”