window and back again to Cowdlin’s desk. ‘The thing is, I do not know. What is my reputation, sir?’
‘Why… why… why… that of a womaniser. And a bounder.’ A bit of spittle dripped from Cowdlin’s lip.
‘Precisely what have I done? I am not aware of ill using any female, though I confess to having a man’s needs. The ladies involved generally have not complained.’
‘Well, there is how you made your money during the war. Smuggling. Bah! Answer that, will you?’
Sloane had no intention of breaking his word of silence about his war activities, not for this foolish fellow. He leaned casually on the desk, bringing his face closer to Cowdlin’s. ‘And, you, sir, did you forgo your brandy during the conflict? Did Lady Cowdlin or Lady Hannah never wish for French silk? How did you come by such items?’
‘Well…!’ Cowdlin began, but he looked down at his desk and fussed with his papers.
‘Let me speak plainly, sir,’ Sloane said. ‘You are a man in need of money, with a daughter in need of a husband. I have the wealth you desire and am an eligible suitor. Can you afford to earn my dislike?’
To his credit, Lord Cowdlin met Sloane’s gaze. ‘Are you making an offer for my daughter?’
It was the perfect time to do so. Sloane had only to form the words.
He could not. ‘I will make a formal offer if and when I choose to do so. But if you intend to refuse me, it would suit me well enough to be told now.’
Cowdlin averted his eyes. ‘I do not refuse such an offer at this time.’
Sloane stepped back from the desk. ‘Very well. With your permission I will then keep my appointment with your daughter and her friend to drive through the park.’
Cowdlin nodded.
Sloane bowed and strode out of the room.
He was more quickly admitted into the drawing room where Lady Cowdlin and her daughter received callers. Lady Cowdlin sat with Lady Poltrop on a sofa, the two ladies engaged in a whispering conversation, most likely the latest gossip of which lady of their acquaintance was sleeping with which gentleman. Lady Hannah and Miss Poltrop also had their heads together, watching David play at cup-and-ball. When Sloane was announced, Hannah looked over and waved happily. He paid his respects to the mothers and walked over to the younger group.
David gave an embarrassed laugh and set the child’s toy on the table. Sloane felt suddenly very old.
‘Are you ladies ready for a turn in the park?’ he asked.
Hannah clutched at his arm excitedly. ‘Oh, yes. It is such a fine day.’ She batted her eyes coquettishly at David. ‘It is a pity there is not room for you, too, Mr Sloane.’
David smiled. ‘I would have been delighted for the company, but I must take my leave.’ He bowed to each of the young ladies and then to Sloane. ‘Good day to you, Uncle.’
After a long drive through the park, crowded with vehicles of all kinds, as well as riders and pedestrians, Sloane delivered Miss Poltrop to her door. As his tiger jumped on the back of the curricle and he and Lady Hannah started off again, the young lady exclaimed, ‘I cannot believe you will be living immediately next door to my cousin!’
Sloane had imparted this information to the young ladies during the ride, eliciting happy squeals and exclamations.
‘Do let us drive by your new house!’ Hannah begged.
It was only a small detour, so Sloane turned down Park Street and was again on Culross Street. Lights blazed in the house next to Morgana Hart’s; through the windows, Sloane spied servants hard at work dusting and polishing.
What would those servants think if they had seen some of the places he’d lived over the years? Would they be so fastidious? Sloane had slept in dingy rooms listening to mice scurrying and scratching within the walls. He’d even slept on the streets of Rome, when, as a young man, he had temporarily run out of funds during his wanderings.
‘I think it will be lovely!’ cried Hannah. ‘Why, we might run into each other when I call upon my cousin. Would that not be a treat?’
‘Indeed,’ he said, keeping up the conversation. ‘Do you call upon Miss Hart often?’
Lady Hannah gave a deep laugh and wrapped her fingers around his arm. ‘I shall now,’ she murmured.
When she allowed such a peek at the woman she was bound to become, Sloane wondered what was keeping him from formally proposing marriage to her. Her girlish giggles would eventually disappear, and then this hint of a woman would truly flower.
He slowed the curricle in front of his new home. In the window of the house next door, a face appeared.
‘Oh, look! There is Morgana!’ Hannah waved energetically.
Miss Hart’s returning wave was less exuberant, and she peered at them with a puzzled expression.
Well, Sloane thought, she would know soon enough why his curricle had paused in front of her house.
Morgana stepped back from the window. No longer visible from the street, she still could see her cousin, blooming like a spring rose, seated next to the tall Cyprian Sloane, his fingers confidently holding the horse’s ribbons.
How could a person feel such a combination of thrill and dejection? She simply must get over this tendency to moon over Mr Sloane and to flame with jealousy every time her cousin put her arm through his.
He was a man spoken for, even if he was the most interesting man she’d ever met. It would be ill mannered in the extreme to place herself in competition with Hannah. Morgana had enough difficulty maintaining the docile, agreeable manners prized by society. She would not be judged a man-snatcher as well.
She gave an audible groan.
As if a man like Mr Sloane would want her to snatch him. Hannah was the sort men wished to marry, all delicate and biddable. Not a harridan who scrapped with men in the park. Or who all too often spoke her mind. Or one who must be asked to dance out of pity.
Morgana watched the curricle pull away, experiencing more conflicting emotions, this time relief and disappointment. For a few heart-pounding moments, she thought her cousin and Mr Sloane might call upon her.
‘Stop all this foolishness,’ she said aloud to herself.
She resolved again to tuck Cyprian Sloane away in her mind as merely a man with whom to engage in interesting conversation, a man she was bound to see often in her cousin’s company. When he made his offer to Hannah, as Hannah insisted he would, Morgana would wish them very happy.
That was settled. She gave a firm nod and turned her thoughts to her most pressing problem. How to find someone to tutor Lucy in the skills of a courtesan. It was not as if such a person would advertise in the Morning Post. Where were they to be found?
Morgana needed a woman who could teach Lucy how to conduct the business, how to set prices and mode of payment. Morgana had no knowledge of such matters.
That lack of knowledge paled
