Page 13 of Loving a Dowager
“I think not.” Landon was not in charge of him or his nephew. “The slums of St. Giles is no place for Nicholas.”
Nicholas stood and puffed out his chest. “Uncle. I promise not to make a hash of it like I did with Miss White. Allow me to accompany you.”
His nephew had little reason to venture far from Mayfair. Nicholas was not the type to wench nor wallow in his cups. Time for Walter to stop coddling the boy. “Very well.” He gave Landon a nod and began to make his way to the door. “Let’s be done with this business.”
Knowing Henrietta, she would only be willing to wait until morn before descending upon him for answers. Walter wasn’t sure if the tightness in his chest was in anticipation of seeing her early in the morn or due to anxiety of finding out once more that a gentleman of the ton would conduct himself with such dishonor. Leading the way through the halls of Brooks, Walter stopped momentarily to accept the assistance of the footman with his outer garments. At the mention of Miss White’s name, Walter slowed his movements and pretended to focus on buttoning his great coat. His hearing wasn’t as sharp as it once was, but he could still make out Landon’s serious tone. “My advice, Darlington, is to choose with your heart, not your mind. And I wouldn’t be so hasty to rule out the lovely Miss Marina White. It was clear the woman has an effect upon you.”
Nicholas replied, “Lovely? That is not a descriptor that comes to mind when I think of her.”
“Hmm… and what words would you use?” Landon asked.
“Obstinate. Mayhap infuriating.” Nicholas released a resigned sigh and added, “But also beautiful. Clever. Worthy of a gentleman who will make her swoon and disabuse her belief that all men prioritize themselves above all else. While I’m certain I’d be perfectly happy in a union with the lady, Miss White made it quite clear this evening that all I am capable of evoking within her are unladylike thoughts and the wish to cause me bodily harm.”
Landon’s hand landed solidly on Nicholas’s shoulder. “Miss White sounds perfect.”
Walter agreed.
Stepping out into the muggy night air, he drew Landon aside. “Please advise your mama of Nicholas’ preference for Miss White. The boy will need all the support in order to gain the chit’s hand.”
“Not to worry, Weathersbee. Mama has everything well in hand with regard to the matter of your nephew. She, however, is not happy with our lack of progress regarding Lady Bertha’s continued courtship and engagement to Otterman. Mama claims the longer we take to prove that the man is indeed a cad, the more in love Lady Bertha will become, thus the graver the impact once the scandal becomes known by all.”
“If Otterman does maintain a separate family, we shall handle the matter. You have your own dealings to worry about—namely seeing to it you survive the birth of your first child.”
It wouldn’t do to involve Landon. The boy was driven by honor and would embroil himself in a duel if he deemed it necessary. Given the male relations of Lady Bertha and Miss White had been absent and remiss in their duties to care for the women, they would not be likely to risk their heads in a duel to defend either lady’s honor. Walter would have to take matters into hand and hope it did not lead to an early morning meeting with Otterman in some damp, godforsaken field.
He placed a foot upon the coach steps to follow Nicholas, but stalled when Landon cleared his throat. “Weathersbee, before you go, there is one more matter I’d like to address.”
“Aye.” Twisted at the waist, Walter waited for Landon to meet his gaze. “Well, what is it, Hadfield?”
Landon had grown into a man that Walter was certain George would have been extremely proud of. The boy had restored the family coffers upon inheriting the earldom and had fulfilled his duties with grace and honor that most of the gentlemen born first in line lacked. Landon was held in high esteem by his peers. But the man standing before Walter looked as uncertain about what he had to say as Walter must have when he was a lad of fourteen and confessed his love for Henrietta to the man who fathered Landon.
Landon cleared his throat. “Weathersbee, I had my doubts when Christopher trusted you with our papa’s firm, and you have proven my worries on that front were unwarranted. However, it is apparent I was unclear earlier. Mama deserves happiness, not scandal.”
“Beg pardon?”
“You. Her. Dancing.” Landon tugged on his gloves and flipped up the collar of his great coat. “And I don’t care to witness her frowning.”
Walter stood frozen as Landon turned and left. What the bloody hell had just happened?
Nicholas poked his head out of the coach door. “Uncle, is something amiss?”
Shaking his head, Walter vaulted up into the coach and settled in next to Nicholas. “Nay, naught is amiss.” Unaccustomed to being under such scrutiny, Walter would have to be more mindful that he was once again under the watchful eyes of PORFs and their Network.
Chapter Eight
Walter dipped his chin down to his chest and took in a shallow breath. The faint hint of violets bolstered his spirits before the stench of debris from street markets and refuse marked their entrance into the rookery. The coach continued to jostle them about as the wheels ran over the uneven cobbled streets.
Nicholas planted his hand against the coach wall to steady himself. “We are no longer in Mayfair.” His nephew peered out the coach window and the boy’s gaze was almost immediately filled with sadness. “The mere thought that a gentleman would even consider setting up a family in such conditions causes my stomach to ache. I hope Hadfield’s informants were wrong.”
Perhaps sheltering his nephew all these years was not as wise as he once thought. The undermining nattering of family members roared in Walter’s ears. He shook his head and pressed himself deeper into the corner of the coach. “As you are keenly aware, life is unpredictable.”
Nicholas let the coach curtain fall back into place. “And you taught me it is not the unforeseen events that shape us; it is our choices, how we decide to react, that forms our future. An honorable man would claim his offspring and provide for them, not banish them to live in squalor.”
The coach rolled to a stop and the door swung open. Walter shifted forward, slightly hunched over and ready to exit. “Remember, we are here to investigate, not make judgments.”
Emerging from the coach, Walter glanced down the alley and spotted a gentleman with his head in his hands sitting upon the third step up, in front of a dwelling with its windows partially boarded up with wood. Walter set off down the path, side-stepping stacks of crates and avoiding eye contact with the scantily clad ladies of the night.
Nicholas was close on his heels. “Is that Otterman?”
