Not something Beardsley—or Viola—ever forgot, but that problem was years in the future. “You offer Jeanette a white marriage, but who’s to say what transpires once the vows are spoken? Nobody sane wants to go to debtors’ prison, my boy, and I honestly cannot bail you out. Your mother has commandeered every spare groat for your sisters, and I am lucky to be able to afford my own necessities.” That was overstating the case somewhat, but if a well-placed family began selling off its teams or culling its art collection, tongues wagged, and credit disappeared.
Worse yet, daughters became spinsters, wives became shrews, and mistresses became strangers.
“Then what am I to do, Papa? Some of my debts are the honorable kind, and the fellows are too decent to dun me, but others… The agencies are no longer sending me the best for the exalted post of valet, and I don’t blame them.”
Beardsley took the chair at the desk rather than sit beside Jerome. “A mere valet won’t take you to court for wages owed. A servant who gets above himself in that regard will never work again.”
“You haven’t met Timmons.”
“I know his type. They are humble and helpful for about two weeks, then they start ignoring orders, telling you how to go on, and taking far too long to fetch the next day’s beer of an evening. You’re better off without him.”
Jerome finished his drink. “I can renege on wages owed and forget my debts of honor, fine gentleman that I am, but what of the tailor, Papa? A gentleman cannot remain in arrears with his tailor or the chop shop. The trades don’t extend credit to young fellows the way they do to a settled man of means.”
“What Jeanette needs is an incentive to marry you,” Beardsley says. “As I see it, you have two possible strategies for inspiring her to look with favor upon your suit.”
“Even if she marries me, she won’t necessarily turn over her fortune to me. She’s not stupid.”
“She’s also not plagued with a lot of needy relatives, Jerome. Who else is to get that fortune if not her husband’s family, which is where much of the money came from in the first place? Her brother, scoundrel though he is, has income from the Goddard family holdings, and the only other person she cares for is Trevor.”
Jerome peered at the dregs in his glass. “What are my two options, then?”
“You can charm her to the altar and offer her whatever she wants in the way of independence, companionship, and everything in between, or you can threaten her.”
“She lived with the late marquess for seven years, Papa. Never spent a night away from him, to hear Trevor tell it. She won’t threaten easily.”
“She will understand when somebody with superior influence brings his consequence to bear upon her. A few rumors about Orion Goddard’s dastardly behavior during the war, idle speculation in the right venues about why nobody has called him out, musings on his generous French income… The man is already held in near-disgrace for reasons nobody ever mentions. Jeanette will do anything to protect her brother.”
She might also do anything to protect Sycamore Dorning. Beardsley set that intriguing notion aside for further contemplation.
“She must care for Goddard very much if she’d marry to keep him safe.”
“Women can be fierce, Jerome. Witness your dear mother and her crusade to see your sisters launched. Jeanette married once for the sake of her menfolk, and spared to her father an ignominious death.”
Jerome rose to refill his drink. “Trevor ain’t keen to marry a cousin.”
“Trevor’s wishes might not come into it. You have another option where Jeanette is concerned.”
Jerome’s expression was bleak, not in a self-pitying, youthful sense, but as a man disappointed in life and in himself was bleak.
“Right, threaten her brother, except I don’t know exactly what Goddard got up to in France, and for all I know, his vineyards have simply enjoyed good harvests. Then too, Trevor might take a dim view of my slandering Goddard’s reputation, particularly when Trevor is perched on my elbow most of the time when I go out socializing these days and would hear every word of the calumny I directed at his… his step-uncle.”
Another glass of decent libation met a summary fate.
“Papa, can’t you simply find me a minor diplomatic post? My French is excellent, my German and Italian passable, and I can read Spanish. Even a few years in America might be tolerable.”
The suggestion had merit on its face, because it would solve Jerome’s immediate problems, while leaving his family without any solution whatsoever. Besides, Jerome apparently did not want to see more of the greater world. He wanted to continue to strut about London, patronizing the finest tailors and staying out until all hours with his friends.
“Sending you abroad for a few years wastes time this family cannot afford, Jerome. The immediate problem is how to retrieve the money Jeanette appropriated from us. Once Trevor attains his majority, matters in that regard become more complicated. You could encourage Jeanette to acquaint herself with what you have to offer. To be fair, she might not be the reason Trevor has no siblings.”
Jerome made a face. “You’re saying if I could get her with child, then she’d have to marry me?”
“It’s been done. It has definitely been done. Your mother wasn’t always the prim matron she began presenting to the world twenty years ago. To a marquess’s spare, she was quite friendly well before the vows were spoken. The man is every bit as ensnared as the woman when a child is conceived, if he’s a gentleman.”
“And if she’s a lady.” Jerome frowned at the painting over the mantel of Beardsley’s own dear papa and his wife. They had never known want or worry, unlike their younger son. “I don’t fancy rape.”
“Of course you don’t, so set your mind on enthusiastic seduction. The staff at Tavistock House lurks in the servants’ hall as much as they can, and
