Winsbarren trotted Chaser through the streets of London. He did not want to go home, nor to any of his clubs. He wished he could escape Town, and never be heard from again. Some other place, another country where no one knew him and he could marry a woman he wanted, and loved, instead of having to marry for his father’s title, the one thing he conveniently managed to forget.
He liked being a Viscount, and was likely to remain so for quite a number of years. Even at the advanced age of seventy, his father remained in strong health, hardly likely to succumb to disease or accident. The man, as hale and whole as John, still rode to hounds, although at a more leisurely pace, still enjoyed the arms of a matron on the dance floor, and still walked to the Lords while in session, even during inclement weather. “Heals the soul,” his father stated. No, Eighth Earl Brumbley did not seem to be old. Did not seem he would ever pass this mortal coil. However, deep in his heart, John knew the day would come and he would need to accept the title. Need to marry and raise an heir for his ascendancy.
John was rich, titled, and handsome. Surely, those three things far outweighed his lack of social graces, inability to converse easily, and two left feet. It was not as if he did not bathe or was flatulent in public. He rode in the saddle as well as any other, did not gamble to excess, or imbibe in strong spirits. He was, he thought by all accounts, a good man.
Then why could he not find a life’s companion? Other men chaffed at the bit when snared in the parson’s trap, but John had always wanted a wife. Perhaps his mother dying at an early age had left him longing for the female essence. However, he didn’t like to ponder such weighty observations, he was, actually, quite a simple man, but sometimes he did wonder.
He had wooed, and even courted several quite likeable ladies when he was younger, however, for one reason or another, they had always cried off, most with feeble explanation. The whole of his situation was quite inexplicable. Surely, there was a woman somewhere who would overlook his deficiencies.
It was a shame he could not marry Rowena, his favorite ladybird at Madame Beaumond’s. He liked her personality. Funny and seemingly educated, she laughed at his dry humor. Most of the time when he visited her now, they did nothing but talk and sleep next to each other, the sex forgotten. He liked the feeling of her in the bed next to him. Very pretty and as lusty as he was, she never discussed her past, which he admired. Rowena always made him feel special, like he was the only one she serviced. He’d wanted to keep her, but she’d adamantly refused upon his asking. Hell, he’d like to marry her, as he could not find anyone else to marry, and he did like Rowena exceedingly, but of course, that was out of the question.
Without thinking, John led Chaser through the streets of London, to a quiet side street off St. Mark’s Square. Madame Beaumond kept a neat house at the end of a small court. A shrewd businesswoman, she had positioned her establishment not far from Hargrove Road, known for its bachelor housing.
The house was well kept and held an impeccable reputation for being discreet. Winsbarren had met several prominent figures of Parliament in the drawing rooms there, but as with all his political dealings, he kept this information to himself. Thankfully, they in turn, had reciprocated. Even at his age, it wouldn’t do to have dear old Da hear about his visits with Rowena.
John led Chaser around the back, where a young lad took the reins. John flipped him a coin and walked to the back door. At night, of course, he always used the front. He pulled the bell and waited.
Madame Beaumond herself answered. “Monsiour? Puis-je vous aider?”
“I was wondering if I could speak to Rowena,” John said.
“Je suis désolé. Elle n’est pas ici.”
“Do you know where she went?” he asked.
“Porquoi?” She stood with one hand on the door, and the other tightened the neckline of her unusually colored robe.
“I only want to talk to her. I shall pay for her time.” John dug into his pocket and pulled out several pound notes.
“Elle est de son propre temps, il n’y pas de charge.”
John put the money back. “Do you know where she is then?” he asked again.
“Je ne pourrais pas dire. Vous pourriez essayer le parc, en bas par la rivière. Elle aime nourrir les canards.”
“Really?” John couldn’t fathom it, but said, “Tres bien, merci beaucoup.”
The old lady mumbled something before she closed the door and John thought she said ‘strange one’, but his French, like his Latin, was rusty.
John regained Chaser from the boy, and rode out to Hyde Park.
He found Rowena, as Madame Beaumond said he would, at the boat dock along the lower Serpentine feeding the ducks.
Under the tall willows, John dismounted and tied Chaser’s reins to a branch. He walked slowly to Rowena, who knelt on the bank, speaking to the waterfowl.
“Come along then, you old thing, you know you want it,” she said, holding out a small bit of bread to a young hen.
“And what if they only like biscuits?” he asked.
Rowena startled and fell forward on her hands, nearly into the water. John rushed to her side and pulled her up from the ground. She turned in his grasp. “John Tremont, are you trying to frighten me to death?”
“Forgive me, Rowena. I thought you knew I was behind you.”
“Pray how would I know that?” She flung open the piece of linen that held the rest of the bread to the waiting ducks and slipped the cloth into her pocket. She brushed the dirt from her hands and faced him. “What are you doing here? I never thought to meet you walking.”
“I wanted to see you.” He recollected he had never seen her outside of Madame Beaumond’s. The gown she wore was plain, yet very well made, the color of raspberry with trim in a lighter shade, and slippers to match. She looked nothing like a prostitute, and could very well have passed for any of his friends’ younger sisters.
She stared at him. “I’m not working right now. It my time off.”
“I know, Madame Beaumond told me. I…I just wanted to talk to you.”
“You talked to Madam? She told you where I was?”
“Yes, well she said she was not sure where you were, but that I might find you here” John said. “Although, truth to tell, I did not believe her.”
“I like feeding the ducks,” she said. “’Tis very peaceful after the morning’s riders are done with their circuit.” She walked toward a little bench not far from the dock. “You came to find me to talk.”
“Yes. I did.” Now that he was here, it sounded nonsensical.
“What about?”
“Nothing of import. I just wanted to sit with a friendly face for a time.”
“What has happened? Not your father. Oh, Jack…”
John liked the way she used his nickname. She and his father were the only two people who did. “No, not my father. Nothing’s happened. It is just…nothing. Foolish really. I do not know why I troubled you.” John slumped beside her on the bench.
“Well, it cannot be so foolish if you came all this way to find me. Pray tell me what it is.” Rowena turned to face him.
“This is what I like most about you, Rowena, you always listen to me.”
“And why should I not? You always have something to say.”
John heaved a deep sigh and looked at her. “I need to find a wife.”
Rowena smiled. “You have been saying that since I met you.”
“Yes, but now it seems several coincidences have collided to form a path that I’m not allowed to veer from.” John found a small stick on the bench and began peeling its bark.
“Coincidences? Such as?”
“My father imparted to me before he left for the Manor that I was to attend the Montlake’s ball and if I had any mind, should do my best to try and find a wife from the new batch of debutantes. Wherein, at said ball, I ran into Lady Penelope, lately Duchess of Caymore, and after a brief how-do-you-do, and relating to her my intentions, obliged me by saying she would like to help me in my quest to find said wife.” John looked at Rowena. “I have just come from her house. None of the women I requested an introduction from would agree to meet with me.”
“Oh, Jack. I’m so sorry.” Rowena placed her hand on his sleeve.
“No, ’tis not all bad. Seems she and her aunt have come up with a scheme. Lady Penny wrote an advertisement to place in the Ladies Gazette.” John heaved another sigh.
“What!”
“Yes, I know. Does sound rather dodgy, does it not, when put in that context.”
“Oh, Jack. I’m so sorry,” Rowena said again.
“No, I am not entirely cast down. I am honored she is thus inclined to help. After nearly two decades without any luck, this could be the only thing that works.”
“And you say Lady Penny came up with this idea?”
“Actually, no. Her aunt, Lady Olivia is her name, and envisions an advertisement could ostensibly find more women than are here in Town. She assures me that we will be able to find me a wife.” John flung the stick, stood, and began to pace.
“What does the advertisement say?” Rowena pulled at her lower lip. “Surely, she does not name you outright?”
“No, of course not. She was very discreet. However, the ramifications if anyone should find out it is me would be astronomical. My father would have an apoplexy, of that I have no doubt. My own name would be cast into annuls of London history as the man who could not find his own wife. And I’d become a laughingstock, again.” John stared up through the trees. “Let me think….” he said, and recounted the words he’d read. “Or something akin to that. I cannot remember. The whole of it took me quite by surprise.”
“As well it should. Do you think it will work?”
“I know not. She claims we will have the benefit of more varied society. We shall see.”
“You say the advertisement is in the Ladies Gazette?”
“It will go in tomorrow.” John returned to the bench.
“Cancel it. Return to Lady Penny’s immediately and tell her not to place it.”
“If that I could, Ro. I’m desperate. My Da is desperate. I know not any other way to find someone worthy. If not for the damned title I would marry you.”
“John, we cannot marry!” She stood from the bench and walked toward Chaser.
“I am most serious, Rowena.” John caught her by the arm and turned her to face him. “It is not in my nature to exclaim I love you, because I have never felt that emotion, but I do like you so very, very much. You make me feel as if a piece of myself has come back from wherever it has been hiding. You listen to me, make love to me, you laugh with me. What more does a man want from a wife? You are very pretty, are not vain, not in the least I have seen anyway, and we fit together very well.” He encircled her with his arms and kissed her lightly on the nose. “Yes, I would like very much to marry you, Rowena.”
She stepped out of his embrace and walked away. “That is not possible, Jack.”
“It is possible, Rowena.” He caught her hand and held it. “I shall give up the title. Have my father bestow it on my cousin, Abernathy. Rowena, I am ill spent walking through this life alone. You are the only woman I have ever met who is not offended by my blundering manners and social ineptitude. And I do not think I have to pay you to do that. Do I?”
She met his gaze. “No, Jack. You do not have to pay me at all. But you cannot give up your title for me. That would kill your father.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I thank you for the compliments, but ’tis getting on in the day and I must take my leave. My grand— forgive me, Madam will wonder what has become of me.”
“Let me walk with you,” he said. He did not want to let her go.
“No, Jack. People will see us and talk. I do not think you wish to have your reputation sullied by accompanying someone like me.”
“I beg you, do not think of yourself so meanly, especially when we are together,” John said. “I do not think of you thus.”
Rowena looked into his eyes and placed her hand on his cheek. “That is very kind of you, Jack.”
“You are so much more to me than what your occupation defines. I do wish you would let me give you a house, especially as you will not let me marry you.”
“Jack, we have gone ’round this. We cannot be together in that way.”
John gazed into her blue eyes. Stubborn little wench. “Come then, give me a kiss to keep me company until I can see you again.”
Rowena stepped into his arms and they kissed for a long moment.
“Are you sure, Ro?” he asked after releasing her from the kiss. “Are you sure you do not wish me to renounce the title. It would be so easy.”
She laughed lightly. “No, Jack. You would only come to resent me after awhile. Now, run along. I hear horses.” With that, she skipped to the outer edges of the lane as two riders trotted underneath the trees. She turned and gave him a small wave, then set off for the other side of the Park.
John mounted Chaser and watched Rowena walk the path until she was gone. He flicked the reins and made his way home.