The King of Threadneedle Street (26 page)

“Sounds like basic economics to me,” she joked.

“But that isn’t all. I like to make my move before any of that happens, before the players themselves know the outcome.” His eyes blazed with enthusiasm. “The yield of the rice crop in China ultimately affects the price of a bolt of silk at Worth’s in London. A railway in Yorkshire makes a deal with an importer and affects the leather industry in America. War, weather, politics; everything matters, it all speaks to me.

“And do you know what it has been telling me these past few years? The world is changing, Lisa. Slowly but surely, money favors industry. Capitalism. It rewards innovators, facilitators, opportunists.” He gestured with his hand, as though a gold-paved El Dorado lay before him instead of endless sea. “It pays no respect to the titled and landed. People in any society will soon be valued according to their merit; it has happened in American society and is already spreading to Britain. The aristocracy must either adapt or be swept under.”

“You sound like Lord Devon, and I believe he is accused of being unfashionably democratic.”

Andrew laughed again and kissed her temple. “True. Did you know Lord Devon is one of the few financially prosperous men in the House of Lords?
Prosperous
, Lisa, not merely surviving. Those who wouldn’t listen to him have already fallen into obscurity beneath the burden of expensive estates they cannot maintain.”

“You mean they should follow Lord Devon into losing a fortune in the markets on your schemes?”

He cocked his head, and instead of taking offense he laughed. “Lisa, I must ask again if you believe everything you read in the papers.”

“Those reports — the collapsed funds, the uninsured collateral, it all seemed factual to me!”

“Even facts are relative, depending on their presentation.”

“Andrew!” She struck his chest with her fist and tried to shove him hard on the shoulder, uncaring that she was throwing a tantrum. “What is going on?”

“Do you really want me to tell you?”

“Will it make me even angrier?”

“Yes.”

“Then, no!” she turned away and pressed her hands to her temples, trying to squeeze months of worry and confusion out of her head. “I don’t pretend to understand you, Andrew, but if you are hatching something illegal or immoral, I swear I will let you rot in jail!”

He ran his hands through his hair then grasped the rail as he chortled and laughed by himself. Even the studiously polite boatswain turned a wary eye on him. Andrew had a delightful laugh; chesty, smooth, and contagious, but she was too upset to be charmed by it.

He exhaled on a sigh. “If you will not hear the tale today, let me at least assure you no one will have the satisfaction of throwing my bones into Newgate.”

Alysia looked over the rail and watched white-tipped waves argue with the hull of the ship. With a strong westward wind, they were making good time for England. She hardly knew what to say. How could she overlook 650,000 pounds — the combined fortunes of a dozen lords, the equivalent of a year’s wages for a thousand middle-class workers — all lost, all his fault. How could
he
overlook it? Did he still think it was all an elaborate game?

Those thoughts brought on a headache, and without another word, she went to her cabin and spent a long while drawing macabre creatures with furious, erratic strokes. Andrew left her alone, but before dinner he silently delivered a lavender rose tied to a box of chocolate truffles. She stopped to realize it was right on schedule, as he had done every month the past year and a half.

****

Alysia stood on the deck facing westward and watched the Isle of Wight take shape in the distance. She held council with herself and found much to condemn in her behavior. Fact: Andrew had an inescapable duty to his title, family, tenants, and all his financial and political followers. It was
her
duty to make certain he fulfilled his. Lord Courtenay would have applauded the lecture she gave herself.

Any possibility of her marrying Andrew without ruining him died when his fortune crashed and all of Christendom blamed her for it. If he was going to regain his influence, he needed to earn the trust of the public by recovering his business, as it seemed he was already doing. He had no choice but to appease the offended peerage by marrying one of them. Lady Langton fit the bill, someone Alysia wouldn’t pity for having to weather a few years of scandal. She deserved the gray hairs.

Andrew would be livid when Alysia disappeared at Portsmouth, especially considering how far he had gone to fetch her. She would hate herself for it. But perhaps it wouldn’t mean the end for them, permanently. She had been thinking…

The familiar raw-nerved tingle on the back of her neck gave a moment’s warning before Andrew’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. He pressed a line of slow, simple kisses along her neck. His crew made not a single hoot nor whistle, further proving they were professional smugglers and not just a band of rough sailors.

He settled his chin on her shoulder. “I trust you won’t give me trouble at Portsmouth.”

“Hmm.” She hadn’t expected him to guess her plan.

“Lisa?”

“I don’t see how I could, with you as my marshal.”

“I recognize that expression you are wearing. What bothers you, love?”

“Two complicated matters, at the moment.”

“The first being…”

“You don’t want to hear the first.”

“Oh.” He squeezed her shoulders then turned her around to face him. His attention focused on rubbing her fingers, he wanted her to tell him anyway, she knew. “And the second?”

“I have been thinking on how one’s experiences alter one’s convictions.”

“That is too philosophical for me. Is there a layman’s version?”

“I want to be your mistress.”

He rocked back as though she had slapped him. When he had nothing to say, she explained, “I see things differently now. I no longer expect you will make a happy match from among the ton, and I am not as coldhearted as I wish. We have ruined each other for anyone else, Drew.”

He listened with his head down.

“You have to marry Lady Langton. You must know she isn’t the sort to be faithful to you, so what does it matter if you keep me on the side?”

He took her hand and weaved their fingers, his gripping tighter and tighter as she spoke. “Surely if we are discreet—”

“No.” He spoke it softly, but the anger in his tone made it seem much louder.

“I would rather have a part of you than none at all.”

“You already have all of me.”

“We can have what matters most. I will love only you, and you will become who you were born to be.”

“That is not enough.”

“You promised me two and a half years ago, that you would take me any way I offered myself. Well, now I am giving you what I can offer.”

When he finally raised his head, she saw his eyes brimmed with tears. She fought back her own. “I cannot accept it, Lisa. I have changed too. You will be my lady, my wife, and the mother of my children; I vow it. I will not sneak around to be with you — the very thought shames me.”

“That is all rather noble, but hardly possible. Please be reasonable, Andrew.”

He cursed and thumped a fist on the railing, startling her. “Don’t you
dare
tell me what is possible or not!”

Two seamen on deck suddenly decided they were finished scouting the horizon with their looking glasses, and the sailor in the crow’s nest became engrossed in the rigging at the top of the mainmast. An officer also stepped below deck, apparently to give them the privacy they so obviously needed.

For once, she didn’t shout back. She kept her voice gentle, “I want you, Andrew. I can’t live without you. But what kind of woman would I be if I let you ruin yourself? I would be miserable, and so would you.”

“You are wrong. We would be ridiculously happy. It’s all or nothing for me, Lisa.”

“Don’t say that.”

“All or nothing!”

“I hope you don’t mean it.”

“I
never
say anything I do not mean.”

That was true, of course. Andrew was the most genuine soul she knew. “It seems you have made your choice. I can honor that.”

She turned to look over the rail. She would rather eat glass shards than weep before him like a manipulative little Salome. It was mostly for the shock of his choosing
nothing;
she hadn’t imagined he would say that.

“Have you not heard anything I have said to you the past two and a half years?” He tried to turn her shoulder, and when she resisted, he gripped her by the waist to turn her around, then pulled her against his chest. He spoke near her ear, “I
have
made my choice, and I want it
all
.”

An angry kiss with his fingers gripped in her hair put an end to the argument.

This wasn’t the desperate farewell kiss he stole in the garden the night she left Ashton. He moved his lips in confident, possessive strokes. He held her as though he would never have anything else to do.

Again came that inexplicable impression that he didn’t suffer any tragic injustice dealt by the cosmos, but believed everything was in order. If only to prolong the feeling that all was well in the world, she kissed him back. She wanted to believe him,
wished
she could. Until the coast was no longer merely a line on the horizon, it was enough to wish.

****

Andrew stared at the letter from Alysia. It wasn’t the first of its kind. His favorite passage was, “
I can’t lie to you, Andrew. I love you. I love you so dearly my heart breaks—
” And then she went on about why she would not marry him and how she shouldn’t be distracting him from his duty, et cetera, et cetera…

He shouldn’t have left her alone for a moment. At least she had the good sense to hire a private carriage; that much he had discovered before losing her trail. He would wire the Montegues and Mr. Cox. She would go to one of them first. And then he would follow her. Her twenty-first birthday was a mere four months away, and he had planned on keeping her near. A bride shouldn’t be late for her own wedding.

He clamped down on the instinct to race off after Alysia. Not only could she outsmart him if she wanted to, but it was also high time he saw Christian. He would have returned to Dunsbury by now, and a fifteen-year-old boy could get into plenty of trouble without supervision at an old castle. Andrew would find Alysia quickly; he always did.

He wished again he had told her the truth.

Chapter Seventeen

The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.

Othello
, William Shakespeare

May of 1873, London, England

“Geordy,
arrêtez
. I am
not
sulking.”

“D’accord. Bien.”
He twisted his lips and shrugged with his shoulders forward, a charming French gesture she was fond of. “
Oui.
You make demons, and all the time, gargoyles. You are disturbed,
ma
chére
Lise?”

Alysia angled the brush away from the canvas to avoid marring the painting as she chuckled. “This is no gargoyle, but a commissioned portrait of the Dowager Duchessa di Morignano.”

“
Vraiment? Alors
, that explains the coronet.”

Alysia looked fondly at her poet friend and saw his telling smirk. “If you are trying to make me laugh, it is working.”

“Where is your lover? Preston? He would not like to see you this way.”

She wore a tragic expression for his benefit. “
En effet
, I am wasting away in Belgravia, with only
choux à la crème
and French champagne as sustenance.” Geordy snorted. “And he is not my lover.”

“
Oui, je sais
. I have heard you are on the outs.
Tant pis, ma douce
.”

“What?”

“Euh. You did not know? It is said you have angered Lord Preston, and his fiancée has gone to console him.”

“Lady Langton left London?”

“
Ouais
. She went with his mother.”

Alysia had only heard that Lady Langton’s father, the Lord High Chancellor had abandoned his lawsuit against Andrew — difficult to sue a man with no money. Surprising that Lady Courtenay was still crusading in favor of the match.

“I have made you sad.
Je suis désolé
.”

Alysia waved away his apology. “No. On the contrary, I am pleased.”

“
Une putain
, she steals your man, and you are glad?
Je ne comprends pas
.” He waved his hands in the air as though swatting away her apparently wayward logic.

“I want him to marry her. And then I will go to him. I practically threw myself at him before I came here, and he turned me away. But I don’t think he will again — not after suffering for a while at the hands of Lady Langton.”

“
Merveilleux
! There is your spirit! My lioness, you will punish him well,
je crois
.”

Alysia laughed despite herself. How would it be to see the world as a
laissez-faire
poet did?

Lady Marguerite, Geordy’s elderly aunt, stirred in her chair where she had been sleeping. It was a wonder they hadn’t woken her sooner. She began to cough, and Geordy dashed to her side and spooned a dose of medicine into her mouth. He patted her shoulder and leaned her head against his side while she drifted back to sleep.

“You are good to her, Geordy. And you are good to me. Thank you for taking me in.” What luck that she had found Geordy in London the month before. It was better than taking a cottage by herself. She was afraid she would start taking in stray cats — the beginning of the end.

“It is my pleasure,
ma
Lise. You are certain you will not go back with me to Paris? You may grieve your lover’s wedding less if you are far away,
n’est-ce pas
?”

Alysia made a slight correction with her brush and squinted to blur her vision so she could see the shadows better. She hadn’t imagined Andrew’s wedding yet. It would be grand, of course, and the beau monde would be all agog. Heaven help her, she didn’t want to see it.