a big fellow dressed in black, a positive boor—what more can I say? I tell you, Belle, not a pleasant word passed his lips during our conversation. He told me I was nothing less than a sheep-stealer—as if a few sheep should matter to him!’
Belle was finding she could scarcely breathe. She twisted the slender wedding ring on her finger. ‘Is this why you’ve come to London?’
‘Well, yes. Davenant demanded another meeting—demanded, can you credit it? He said he’d travel to Somerset again to see me if I preferred, but I—actually, I didn’t prefer it, not with the baby due, you know?’
Belle did know. She knew that Edward’s poor wife had already had two miscarriages within the past two years, and she dreaded to think what would happen if Charlotte lost this baby.
‘Anyway,’ went on Edward, ‘we met the other day at my hotel, and Davenant had all the figures with him about his sheep—now, isn’t it the sort of thing a normal fellow would leave to his man of business? But, no, I’d swear the creature had gone through all his stock lists with a toothcomb. Dash it, he must make thousands a week from his various interests!’ He gesticulated angrily. ‘Nevertheless, he told me that my debts regarding those dratted sheep could not be ignored.’
Outside in the Strand a crowd of merrymakers went by on their way to an evening in the clubs of St James’s. Belle waited for the noise to fade and asked, ‘Has Charlotte any idea of this?’
‘No,’ he said defiantly, squaring his shoulders. ‘Poor Charlotte, not a thing, and I don’t want her to. She’s delicate, you know?’
And what if I were delicate? Belle bit back the retort, knowing it was ridiculous to expect Edward ever to see her as anything other than his capable, shrewd-headed older sister. But she had to think. This could be disastrous.
Adam Davenant was after Edward, not her. But her shop, her own small savings—would they be implicated? Would everything she had worked so hard for since her husband’s death be lost?
For a moment sheer panic clawed at her chest. Somehow she fought it down and forced herself to say calmly, ‘Is there any possibility that Mr Davenant will let you pay this sum back gradually, month by month?’
‘Good God, I doubt it. He’s a grasping wretch, Belle!’ As Edward distractedly pushed his dark hair back from his forehead, he unintentionally laid bare the old, white scar that puckered the skin there. ‘He’s told me I’ve got to bring the money to his house in Mayfair within the week or he’ll press charges. Damn it, if I had it, I’d hang it round the necks of a few sheep and get them herded up the steps of his fancy house.’
Belle briefly rested her forehead in her hand.
‘You’ll help me, won’t you?’ Edward pleaded. ‘Charlotte. Our home. The new baby … I can’t go to prison, Belle. I can’t …’
Belle had always been aware that the once-renowned Somerset estate of the Hathersleigh family had, thanks to the profligacy of successive generations, dwindled to very little—unlike, unfortunately, the aspirations of its title-holders.
She’d also had to face up to the fact that her own prospects were bleak when her husband died five years ago in one of Wellington’s final campaigns of the war. She’d had to make harsh choices: either to move in with Edward at Hathersleigh Manor, or to earn her own living. In fact, imposing herself on Edward never seriously crossed her mind and the idea of being a governess or companion horrified her. Certain offers she’d received from so-called gentlemen repelled her even more.
Then inspiration had come. She had always been a talented seamstress and was fascinated by the women’s fashions that ebbed and flowed like the long Napoleonic wars, so—in the face of her brother’s disapproval—she’d decided to open a dress shop in London.
Her designs were bold and eyecatching. Outrageous, some of the ton’s older matrons were heard to intone witheringly. Her shop, though small, was well situated in the Strand, and she and Gabby lived in the two rooms above it. Soon she’d begun to attract customers who were tired of soft pastels and wanted something different, but she was by no means making a fortune. She was lucky if her own rent and bills were paid every quarter day. How on earth could she deal with Edward’s debts?
Now, as the candles flickered around the bright silks and satins in this little shop, which she felt sick at the thought of losing, she looked at her brother steadily and said, ‘There’s no point in my even asking the amount of your debt to Mr Davenant, Edward, for I know I won’t be able to pay it. But I will go and see him for you.’
‘Go and see him?’ Her brother was astonished. ‘And then what? I’m damned if you’ll grovel on my behalf in front of that—that nouveau-riche upstart!’
A flash of anger darkened Belle’s eyes. ‘I have never grovelled in my life. I will simply explain that you realise you have made a grave error—’
Edward jumped up, about to protest, but something in Belle’s steady gaze made him clamp his lips together and sit down again.
‘That you’ve made a grave error,’ she repeated, ‘and would be grateful if Mr Davenant would accept your word of honour that your debts will be paid off steadily over—what? Three years, Edward?’
He looked sullen now, a little boy again. ‘Three years! I suppose so. Times are hard, though Davenant’s thriving, blast the fellow …’
‘I shall go and see him,’ said Belle quietly. ‘And I’ll let you know how I get on.’
He got up to pace to and fro, nodding. ‘Very well. And put on some charm, eh? Come to think of it, Belle, a second marriage for you, to some rich fellow—not Davenant, of course, God forbid—could be the answer for both of us. You’re really not at all bad-looking, if you’d just make an effort not to frighten the fellows off with those startling clothes and that sharp tongue of yours.’
This time, there was an edge of ice in her voice. ‘Let me assure you I have absolutely no intention of getting married again. Ever.’
Her brother shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. I’ll stay on in town for a week or so at Grillon’s, so you can let me know there when it’s all sorted with Davenant, can’t you?’ He started putting on his hat, checking his reflection in the mirror.
‘Edward,’ Belle said suddenly. ‘You’re not going to visit any of the gambling dens, are you?’
He swung round. ‘Gambling dens? Never. And thanks for this, Belle. Some day I’ll return the favour.’
Breezily Edward let himself out. Belle sat with her hands frozen in her lap, immobile.
Gabby came in rather hesitantly. ‘Are you free, madame? I wanted to tell you that there was a little trouble earlier.’
Belle’s heart sank anew. ‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Jenny told me about it. It appears that when you and I were measuring Lady Tindall in the back workshop for her new gown, a customer came in and complained about a cuff that was loose on a pelisse she bought last week.’
‘What did Jenny do?’
‘She mended it there and then, and the customer left—but she was so unpleasant, Jenny said! And she declared she would not be using
