Page 42 of Margins of Love
Fave stayed behind in the drawing-room after Eve left to manage the staff in their dinner preparations. He revisited the past days’ events again and again in his head, searching for information to trip up Bustle-Smith. Was she trying to marry Allison off? That could not be all, she had always been trying that. Yet, somehow, Bustle-Smith seemed on the prowl this season.
“Father!” Fave shot up from his chair and stormed to Gustav’s study.
He found Arnold in his stead.
“What is the matter, Cous?” Arnold asked, standing over some correspondence.
“Do you know what Father’s catalog was all about, the one he had one day in Brockton House when he spoke to Bustle-Smith?”
“I did not know he showed it to her,” Arnold said, surprised.
Fave came closer, expecting his cousin to elaborate.
“It was Pavel’s catalog, listing all the emeralds he can procure shortly.”
“And what does it have to do with Bustle-Smith and her conniving schemes?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Arnold stepped over to Gustav’s decanter and poured two glasses. Then handed one to Fave. They sat and waited for Gustav, drinking and examining the correspondence as they had done countless times since they returned from Oxford.
But this was not a meritocracy. Fave was back in London, and the ton ruled the city. And Bustle-Smith ruled the ton. He found himself standing by the window. It rained. Again. And yet the streets were filled with people. Coachmen unfurled black umbrellas to protect their patrons from the rain, while the brims of their hats slumped, dripping. He saw a maid carry baskets of food behind a lady. Would the mistress know that this maid was unlikely to have enough food for her own family? It was not fair. The haves and have-nots danced, while the music of employment played. They each retreated to their corners when it stopped, entwining their worlds.
How could he keep his world disentangled from the ton with a new wife by his side? Could he protect her as a devoted husband should? He swallowed as acid rose in his throat. It felt like a betrayal. Of his bride as much as his own heart. He pinched his nose with his forefingers, rubbed his eyes with his palms, a headache rising.
Gustav stomped into his study. “Favale, Arnold, what are you two still doing here at this hour?” He unfolded some notes from his pocket and set it on his desk among the other papers.
“Mail…” Arnold kept his head over the letters.
“Just thinking.” Fave was still caught up in the goings-on outside, the busy trickle of the rain as seen from a fire-warmed glow on the inside. He stood on the margins of love, or maybe on the edge of the ton, risking to lose his footing. The path ahead of him used to be so clear, but now it was a blur of rage, heartbreak, and the gossip’s wicked agenda. It was out of control and he wanted to seize it back.
“Father, why did you carry Pavel’s catalog with you when you spoke to Bustle-Smith?”
Gustav gave him a puzzled look. “You mean back at Brockton House?”
“Yes.”
“How can you ask me that”—Gustav slapped his palm on the desk—“It is all because of you!” Clearly, he did not make the slightest effort to hide his irritation.
Fave’s eyes grew wide in his incomprehension.
“You told us not to cater to her every whim! It was your talk of fairness and the tax she had levied on us,” Gustav said.
Fave came closer and stood before his father, ready for the onslaught of rapprochements. He knew it was the hurdle he had to jump over to obtain the information he needed. For what, he did not know. But what came next took him off guard.
“It was the day I received Pavel’s catalog. I was showing it to your mother when Carol came to ask us for more money.” Gustav leaned against the desk, earnest and troubled. “Your mother was angry at the recent invoices. Carol made no airs to repay us and threatened Lizzie’s reputation.”
His father looked old and aggrieved. Bustle-Smith always did that to him.
“So, I asked her to give us her emerald as a deposit. But she is quite attached to it. Her late husband gave it to her.”
Fave remained silent. Best not to interrupt Gustav when he was talking.
“If there is any value to it, son, this could be the stone we need for the King’s competition.”
At that, Fave sat up tall.
“Carol had Brockton House readied for the house party and redirected some funds. She would not tell us where, but it was clear that some invoices were forged. She left them with her barrister.”
