Page 54 of A Lady's Guide to Scandal

‘I’m not sure I can be said to have “agreed” to help you,’ he refuted at once, grinning now. ‘I was coerced, I was blackmailed. I didn’t have any choice in the matter.’

She gave a soft laugh. The memory was all at once rewritten to be a humorous part of their shared story, as if it had never been shameful, or fraught – as if they had never even been truly at odds, even for a moment.

‘You had a choice,’ she argued, rapping him lightly upon the arm with her closed fan.

‘Oh, I’m not so sure about that.’ The words – though meant lightly, she was certain – sounded quite serious when spoken aloud, and by the surprise in Radcliffe’s eyes it had caught him off guard, too. They considered each other for a long, thoughtful moment – grey eyes staring into brown, brown staring back – before he cleared his throat, breaking the tension. She took a hasty sip of lemonade.

‘Mr Pemberton, you’ll be pleased to hear, is quite as rich as they say,’ he said after a beat.

‘Oh yes?’ she said, forcing her voice into brightness. ‘May I ask after your sources?’

‘His financial manager, his manservant and his tailor. His bills are always paid on time, his servants report no issues with wages, and his financial manager – once two or three cups into his beer – boasts of a very favourable return on investment. Your Pemberton is as clean as they come: eight thousand a year, quite simply. My tiger, Lawrence, found out the whole – he is a very accomplished spy.’

‘That is good news,’ Kitty said slowly. And it was, though she did not feel as pleased as she would have expected.

‘Does it make your path clear?’ he asked.

‘Almost. I still need to overcome Mrs Pemberton’s final qualms about my quality. But I hope that soon there will only be the where and the how of the proposal to consider.’

‘Oh, only that?’ Radcliffe said. ‘I suppose you will allow Pemberton the privilege of deciding for himself what he is to say to you?’

She scowled at him. ‘Yes, of course I will.’

She turned her shoulder dismissively, but Radcliffe was immune to such slights by now.

‘I wonder what sort of proposal you should most like, were it up to you,’ he imagined. ‘“Dearest Miss Talbot,”’ he did a passable imitation of Mr Pemberton’s self-satisfied drone, ‘“being of sound mind though irritating personality, I promise to you that I am filthy rich and will pay off all of your family’s debts.” Can you imagine it, Miss Talbot? The romance! The passion!’

‘If you are done amusing yourself,’ she said, not quite able to take the laugh out of her own voice. ‘I shall take my leave – I have much still to do, you know.’

He offered a gloved hand.

‘May I escort you to your aunt, then?’ he suggested gallantly. And this time, she accepted – the faintest of blushes staining her cheeks.

27

‘It is most worrisome, James, no matter what you say,’ Lady Radcliffe insisted. ‘And try as I might, I cannot get him to speak to me about it!

‘I can’t imagine why,’ Radcliffe muttered. Lady Radcliffe eyed him a little frostily. Radcliffe avoided her gaze, turning his head out of the barouche to stare onto The Strand in the hope it might discourage her from pursuing the conversation. Had he known, when his mother had requested his escort to the opening of the Royal Academy’s annual art exhibition, that she would use it as an opportunity to lecture him on Archie’s behaviour, he would have avoided the whole thing entirely. Though he should perhaps have suspected an ulterior motive earlier – when had his mother ever expressed an interest in art before?

‘It is all very well being so cavalier,’ the Dowager said crossly, ignoring all of Radcliffe’s attempts to shut the conversation down, ‘but I do believe Archie to be getting a real taste for cards!’

‘Just like last year he developed a real taste for boxing,’ Radcliffe said, ‘and the year before a real taste for horse racing.’

‘They are not at all the same thing,’ Lady Radcliffe dismissed. ‘More and more frequently I hear of boys being quite ruined by gambling. You know Lady Cowper’s younger brother fled to Paris for just that reason – they hushed it up of course, but it is widely known. And I have never met a young man less interested in cards before this year!’

‘Even Archie couldn’t become that bad at gambling,’ Radcliffe said under his breath. He wondered if this was the sort of conversation his parents had shared about him, once, before his father had decided to pack him off to the Continent.

‘I thought you might have a proper talk to him,’ Lady Radcliffe said, ignoring this. ‘Set him straight, you know, put a little fear into him.’

The carriage turned into the courtyard of Somerset House, not a moment too soon for Radcliffe.

‘I’m not going to do that, Mother,’ he said shortly, not looking at his mother. ‘Archie is fine as he is.’

They did not speak to one another as they dismounted and crossed the threshold. Taking a copy of the exhibition catalogue without enthusiasm, Radcliffe’s mood was lowered further when he realised the rooms were already thick with members of the ton, all of whom were more interested in being seen admiring the paintings on opening day, than the actual admiration itself. What insipid fools they were; Radcliffe had almost been in danger of forgetting it, these past few weeks. Miss Talbot – with her schemes, her favours, and early morning visits to his home – had kept him busy enough that he’d not had time to think of much else. Realising he was absent-mindedly searching the crowd for her figure, he jerked his head away and began instead to flick through the exhibition catalogue.

‘What would you like to see, first, Mama?’ Radcliffe asked. ‘Mr Ward’s Portrait of Mrs Gulliver, in her 104th year? Or do you think Mr Hodgson’s Interior of a church might be livelier?’

From the chilly silence that greeted his question, it was clear that Lady Radcliffe was not pleased with him at all – and most likely, doubly irritated to have to endure such a boring afternoon now that her primary objective in acquiring Radcliffe’s company had failed. It was a relief, then, to have their names hailed in only the second room. They turned to see Mrs Kendall waving a welcoming arm in her direction, from where she was gathered with Miss Talbot, Lady Montagu and Mr Fletcher – all of whom, save Miss Cecily he assumed, had given up on the paintings entirely.