Gallant Scoundrel (23 page)

Even so, more than a dozen necessary responses had yet to be penned when the first “morning” callers were announced, well past noon. Harry was quick to make himself scarce, his helpfulness apparently not extending so far as playing the polite in the parlor with his wife all afternoon.
 

Xena could scarcely blame him. In fact, after three hours of sharing tea and gossip with a succession of curious Society matrons, she positively envied him his escape. Morning calls, she decided, were yet another unfair burden English society placed upon women.

When the last caller finally left it was nearly time to dress for the evening, for they were expected for dinner at the Heathertons’ before continuing on to Lady Gascombe’s rout.
 

During both events, Harry proved the changes she had observed in him last night, however temporary, had at least survived their first outing. Over dinner, he proved himself well-versed in the topics of the day, delivering opinions intelligently while adjusting his manner according to his listener.
 

When ribbed about his customary habits, he was quick with a witty, though not ill-natured retort. Nor did he drink any more heavily than most of the other gentlemen—though by Xena’s standards that still seemed rather excessive.

Lady Gascombe’s rout was so crowded that conversation was nigh impossible, but Harry stayed close by Xena’s side—which was as well, or they would likely have been separated by the press of people. They stayed little longer than was necessary to make their way into the small ballroom, filled to bursting, greet their hosts, then make their way back outside to wait for their carriage. Even so, it was nearly two before they returned to Grosvenor Street and Xena was again too tired to do more than bid Harry good night before seeking her bed.
 

Sleepily, she wondered whether she should comment on the positive changes in his behavior, or if doing so might embarrass him into reverting to form. She was asleep before she could decide.

After breakfast—which was considerably later than yesterday’s—Harry again stayed long enough to help with the last of the initial flood of invitations before excusing himself.
 

“Promised to meet Pete and a few others at Gentleman Jacksons Saloon for a bout or two,” he explained.
 

“Boxing, you mean?” Xena recalled hearing Gentleman Jackson’s mentioned last night.

Harry nodded. “Figure I can use the exercise, what with all this rich food.”

Again Xena rather envied him, this time for an activity she would have liked to learn more about, but which, as a lady, she could not. Determined to put her time to good use nonetheless, she gave instructions to Chambers that she would not be at home to callers, as she was expected at her modiste’s for a fitting.
 

Then, once in the carriage, she directed the driver to take her to Mrs. Henderson’s house in Rundel Street. After three days away, she fairly ached to see Theo again. Her fitting could wait.

Her son was delighted to see her and full of news, eager to tell her all about the various things Yamini had taken him to see and do.
 

“We visited a circulating library yesterday and Lincoln’s Inn Fields the day before. I wanted to see Astley’s Amphitheatre but Yamini says it is too far. May I visit Hyde Park, however? Mrs. Henderson says that is where all the most famous people in London are to be seen of an afternoon.”

“She is likely quite right,” Xena admitted with a smile. “I’ve not been there myself yet, but perhaps we can visit it together next week. I’ll send Yamini word.”

Though Theo continued to chatter, Xena’s old
ayah
seemed unusually quiet. When Xena regretfully bade her son goodbye again after an all-too-brief visit, Yamini accompanied her partway down the stairs.

“You put on a good face for the little one, but I can see you are not easy in your mind,” she told her mistress when they reached the first landing. “Perhaps, after three days in company with Mr. Thatcher, you finally realize I was right that they both should be told without further delay?”

Xena regarded her oldest, most trusted friend with surprise. “No! That is, not yet, for most of the rumors about him appear to be true. Since last I knew him, I fear my husband has become a ne’er-do-well who lives most by gaming and…and has been in the habit of associating with all manner of unsavory sorts.”
 

She could not bring herself to admit even to Yamini that many of those were women.

“In addition, he drinks far too much.” That was still likely true, despite his attempts at moderation the past two nights. “To be honest, I’ve wondered if I wouldn’t be wiser to take Theo completely out of his reach the moment I have the funds to do so.”
 

Yamini frowned. “And what
will
you tell Theo of his father? Surely you cannot think removing him from England will stop him asking and wondering? It is not as though your husband is a criminal, for all his lifestyle in recent years may not meet your approval. Do not forget that Mr. Thatcher believed himself unmarried far longer than you did. Depriving him of his son seems a harsh penalty for behaving as most young men of his class do.”

Xena felt certain Harry’s behavior had been worse than most, but refrained from saying so. Yamini would only point out that Xena had too little experience in Society to know how other young men behaved—which was, unfortunately, true.
 

“I’ll do nothing irrevocable right away,” she grudgingly conceded. “Indeed, I cannot afford to do so just yet. By the bye, I don’t suppose Mr. Gold has sent any word?”

“He did, mum. ’Tis another reason I wished to speak with you privately. He sent a message around late yesterday asking you to call on him at your earliest convenience. Had you not come by today, I planned to ask one of Mrs. Henderson’s servants to deliver a note to you in Mayfair.”

Devoutly hoping that meant Mr. Gold had heard again from his wealthy buyer, Xena smiled. “How very timely. I had already intended to stop there, as I’ve had no opportunity to give him my new direction.”
 

Giving Yamini an affectionate hug, she took her leave.

Just as he had the last time Xena had visited his shop, Mr. Gold greeted her with a wide smile. “Ah, Miss Maxwell. You received my message, then?”

“Yes, though future ones will need to be sent elsewhere. For the next few weeks I will be residing in Grosvenor Street.”

The old shopkeeper nodded sagely. “I wondered whether you might be the same Miss Maxwell referenced in that rather remarkable story in the papers. Why did you not bring your husband with you today?”

Xena knew Mr. Gold meant no offense, but she could not prevent the tightening of her lips. “He has no involvement in my business with you, sir. Indeed, I would prefer he not learn of it at all just yet, as we are still sorting a few things out between us. Therefore, I pray you will be discreet in any messages you might have occasion to send to Grosvenor Street.”

Though one white eyebrow went up, he nodded. “Very well, if you feel that is best. In any event, the reason I wished to see you was to deliver something I imagine you will be most happy to receive.” Reaching under the counter, he pulled out a paper-wrapped parcel. “My buyer sent this by, with word it was to be delivered to you as soon as possible.”

Opening the parcel curiously, Xena stared at the contents with a sense of disbelief. “Is this everything he had promised? So soon?”

Chuckling, Mr. Gold shook his head. “Nay, lass, it’s but a downpayment. One fifth of the total, his note said, to help defray transportation costs for the rest of the artifacts and your added expenses for remaining here in London longer than you had originally planned.”

Still dazed, Xena met the shopkeeper’s twinkling blue gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Gold. Thank you very,
very
much! This will help enormously.”

“He still wishes to meet with you, though he could not say when the press of business would allow it. The, ah, this gentleman is busy with extremely important matters, so I trust you are willing to be patient, given what he has already forwarded.”
 

Xena smiled. “Yes. Yes I think I can now afford to be quite patient.” She bade him a cheerful goodbye, but with a parting reminder that all future messages be sent as discreetly as possible. It was still too soon to know whether the recent change in Harry’s behavior was a permanent one. Until she did, she dared not risk him learning of this windfall for fear he might be tempted to gamble it away.

Suddenly, she realized that she now had ample resources to take Theo abroad, should she wish. Did she? Yamini insisted it would be a mistake, and her
ayah’s
counsel had rarely proved wrong in the past. Then there was the matter of her promise to Lord Peter. No, she must stay a while longer, if only to give Harry the benefit of the doubt. Still, it was good to have options.

Her heart lighter than it had been in a long, long time, she bade the carriage driver take her to Madame Fanchot in Bond Street, where she impulsively ordered two more dresses in addition to the ball gown she was being fitted for. That she could afford ten times as many without appreciably depleting her funds was rather a delightful thought.
 

If anything other than the money contributed to her buoyed spirits, she preferred not to think about it.

*
       
*
       
*

Harry was beginning to wonder if it was worth the effort to play the unaccustomed role of polished sophisticate evening after evening without receiving at least a bit of encouragement from Xena. Being near her again
did
make him wish to become a better man than he’d been of late—a man more like the one she remembered—but he was finding old habits devilish hard to shed.
 

He’d cut his drinking nearly in half, yet she gave no indication she’d even noticed, much less cared. Nor had he gone out gaming again after that first night, which effectively removed him from all temptation by the women who frequented such establishments—not that he’d felt any particular inclination in that direction since commencing this experiment of Peter’s.
 

Far from giving him a disgust of living practically in her pocket these past few days, being so near her only increased his yearning to recapture the passion they’d shared in their youth. It was for that reason he’d taken to going out after breakfast most days for some sort of exercise, in hopes of taking the edge off his desire. Not that it was working. He couldn’t help thinking another stint as the Saint might help, but with all these infernal engagements every evening, he had no idea when he’d manage one.
 

Preparing to leave yet again after breakfast, he was therefore relieved to be told that a boy was asking for him at the back door. Xena had already repaired to the drawing room to receive yet more interminable morning calls, so he readily accompanied the footman through the house.
 

Perhaps Flute had news of another family in desperate need of assistance, or word of a particularly ripe target for the Saint? When he stepped out into the barren kitchen gardens a few moments later, however, it was Tig who awaited him there.
 

“I told you I’d contact you through Flute,” Harry whispered, guiding the boy toward the back gate, where they were less likely to be overheard.
 

“Aye, guv, but I had to change where I been sleeping so I worried he mightn’t find me. Figured I’d best bring my report to you personal-like, just in case.”

Harry didn’t have the heart to scold the lad for over-eagerness to carry out his task. “Very well. What have you to report?”
 

“Been watching the house all along, like you said, guv’nor, but yesterday was the first time the lady you described went out without yerself. Thought you’d want to know.”

Suppressing a grin at the boy’s self-important air, Harry nodded. “Yes, she went to Bond Street for a fitting. She told me.” What she hadn’t mentioned was where she was getting the means to pay for yet another dress.

Tig shook his head emphatically. “Nay, guv, that she didn’t. Leastaways, not till the very end. I trotted along after the carriage she was in to see where it went.”

“Trotted— You were able to keep up on foot?” Harry regarded the undersized urchin skeptically.

“Oh, aye, there were enough traffic it couldn’t go but at a walking pace most of the time. Anyways, she went direct from here to a boarding house in Rundel Street, stayed there close on an hour, then went to a shop near Aldergate. Wasn’t in there long, but it was only after that she finally headed for Bond Street. She spent the better part of two hours in that shop before coming back here.” He beamed up at Harry.

It was all Harry could do to smile back. What the devil was Xena up to? Clearly she’d met with someone at that house…and in a questionable part of Town. Did her wealthy protector perhaps keep a set of rooms there for the sole purpose of conducting discreet
affaires
away from the prying eyes of Society?
 

Given Harry’s own past, a fair argument might be made that he had no right to be jealous even if his suspicion proved true, but he still burned to know.

*
       
*
       
*

Though her extravagance at Madame Fanchot’s gave Xena more than one pang of guilt over the next two days, she was glad she hadn’t stinted when she and Harry arrived for Lady Ellerby’s ball—Xena’s first. The ladies fairly glittered with silk, satin and jewels, while the gentlemen provided elegant counterpoint in their dark tailed coats and breeches.
 

Harry was no exception, looking as distinguished as she’d yet seen him in his best evening attire, this coat specially tailored to make his injury less noticeable, with the left sleeve nonexistent rather than pinned up. Not even in his scarlet regimentals, shaved and brushed for the Commander’s review, had he ever looked more outrageously handsome.