Chapter 5

Miss Clemens’s Book Palace and Tea Rooms

Kate took a sip of her Pekoe tea and closed her eyes on a long sigh. It had been an exhausting day at the ladies’ academy, especially so because she’d been half expecting Mrs. Brooke, the headmistress of the school, to call her out of the classroom to demand she explain why she should continue to be employed given her ignominious background. Because she didn’t have any private music lessons scheduled for the latter part of the afternoon, she’d decided to escape to Miss Clemens’s book shop. She could feel a terrible megrim coming on—no doubt due to stress—and the tea and scones were a welcome balm to soothe her jagged nerves.

“You look absolutely spent, Katie.”

“Why, thank you, Freddie.” Kate looked up to find her brother sliding into the wooden chair at her small table in a quiet corner of the tea shop. “You’re looking well, too.”

Freddie helped himself to one of her jam- and cream-laden scones. “I got your message.”

“I see you did.” Kate put her cup upon the saucer with a decided click. “I’m glad you came. We need to talk about Violet Lockhart.”

Freddie finished his mouthful of scone and then reached into his pocket. “I know.” He pushed a slip of paper toward her. “But you needn’t worry any more after you look at this.”

Kate picked up the paper and gasped as she saw what it was. It was a bank note made out to Frederick Woodville for the exorbitant amount of five thousand pounds. From Lord Stanton. “Freddie,” she whispered. “I don’t understand… Why would Lord Stanton…? What’s happened?”

Freddie’s lip curled ever so slightly. “Lord Stanton bought me off, that’s what’s happened. He sought me out at my rooms earlier today and offered me a ridiculous sum of money to stay away from Violet.”

“And you agreed?” Kate’s hand shook as she passed the slip of paper back to her brother.

Freddie shrugged. “After a little bit of negotiating, yes.”

“But… but that is so mercenary, Freddie. Please don’t tell me this was your plan all along. To extort money out of Lord Stanton.”

“Of course not! What do you take me for, Katie?”

Kate’s face grew hot. “I hardly know these days.”

“I care for Violet Lockhart, more than any woman I’ve ever met before. Indeed, I do believe I love her,” Freddie said in a low, wire-tight voice. “But I know that Stanton and his cow of a stepmother threatened you yesterday, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“How did you know?”

Freddie’s hands curled into fists. “Stanton admitted as much during our ‘discussion’ this morning.”

Katie felt the blood drain from her face. “You two didn’t come to blows, did you?”

“No, but God only knows how I managed to refrain from planting my fist in his face.”

“So that’s it. You are going to walk away from Violet? Even though you love her.”

Freddie’s gaze dropped to the crumb-strewn tabletop, and Kate straightaway suspected he lied when he said “yes.”

A cold frisson of fear shivered over her skin. “I wouldn’t cross Lord Stanton, Freddie. He doesn’t strike me as the forgiving sort.”

Freddie snorted. “The arrogant cock is a fool.” He picked up the bank note, and his mouth tilted into a grin. “So what shall we do with his blunt?”

“I expect you will top up your trust fund.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind replenishing the coffers a little, but I rather thought we could spend some of the money on a new wardrobe for you, sweet sister. Don’t you have a charity house party and ball to attend in a few months?”

Kate grimaced. “I don’t want to go, but I feel that I must in case Lady Stanton decides to undermine my efforts.” As Kate explained what the viscountess had said to her about The Benevolent Society for the Women of Whitechapel the day before, Freddie’s jaw tightened.

“She really called it a dirty little charity? Right. That settles it, Katie. You must go. I will escort you.”

“Thank you.”

“And in the meantime, we shall put a decent portion of this,” he pointed at the check, “toward some of the maintenance that needs doing at White Church House. The flooring affected by rising damp needs replacing before winter. And then there’s the dry rot in some of the window frames.”

“I agree.”

“Excellent. I’ll talk to Father Heatley at St. Mary’s before I leave.”

“What? You are leaving? Where are you going?”

“As much as I complain about Uncle Harold, I feel it’s high time I paid him an extended visit. Fenwick House and the estate will be my responsibility someday, and I really should learn the ropes.”

“That’s wonderful. Uncle Harold will be most pleased.”

Kate ordered more tea for both of them, and they chatted for a while longer about the repairs for White Church House and other sundry matters before Freddie took his leave. He’d promised he would be back in London in early December to ensure they reached Hollystone Hall in good time to attend the duchess’s house party.

But as Freddie walked out the door, Kate couldn’t help but wonder why there was still a jauntiness in his stride. For a man who had just given up on pursuing the young woman he professed to love, he seemed uncommonly happy.

Which could only mean one thing: Freddie was up to something; she was sure of it. She just needed to work out what that might be.