down her basket and bucket. “No, I cannot.”
“But why not?”
Piety ambled a slow circle around her supplies, rubbing two fingers back and forth across her brow.
Finally, she said, “My mother? These vile men, her stepsons? They could turn up here, in Henrietta Place, any day. They can and, mind you, they will . And when they come, sooner rather than later, I must look established. Settled. I must look entirely immovable. I need to be in and out of every level of this house immediately, but not just me, carpenters, painters, delivery men with furniture, too.”
“Your mother will come here?” asked Jocelyn. “I hadn’t realized . . . ”
“I have no doubt that they will chase me here. When they discover my precise location and rally their combined conniving spirit, they will come. It could be . . . Really, I suppose, it could be anytime, depending on how soon they managed to sail from New York behind me. That’s the entire reason for my haste. It must look as if—nay, it must be that—all the money is spent, sunk irrevocably into this house. The fortune must look no longer available, even to me, save as a property that I now occupy.”
Jocelyn blinked, tabling for a moment the topic of a joint passage shared with a bachelor earl. “But what will your mother do if she arrives to discover the money has not been spent?”
“If the money is not tied up, one way or the other, my mother will seize it for sure.”
“But how? If the money is yours? If the house is yours?”
“She would haul me back to America and force me to marry one of her horrid stepsons. There is no man in this equation, don’t you see? My father left his clear intentions in the will, but ultimately, I have very few rights. If my mother looks hard enough, she will discover a way to requisition the money.”
“And you feel sure,” Jocelyn asked, “that your mother does not have your best interest at heart? To settle you in a marriage that keeps you close to her care, perhaps, despite your distaste for the prospective groom?”
“Of this I am very sure.” Piety sighed, toeing the weeds of the garden with her boot. “My mother doesn’t want me. All she wants is the money. American dollars. Ready currency for ready spending. She’s struck a deal with the Limpetts. If one of them manages to marry me, she and the husband will divide my money. They’ll want nothing tied up in property, of course, and certainly not a property gutted by carpenters.” She looked up and smiled a sad, tired smile.
Piety shook her head, gathering up her pail and basket. “I gave her my own house, you know. My father willed our New York house entirely to me. It is a lovely home filled with beautiful things, as she well knows. It took her less than a week to install the stocking king and his reptilian spawn throughout—and then to make designs on me. That is when I decided to come here. To select a new home for myself, as far away—and as difficult to wrench away—as possible. I gave myself three months in which to get my affairs in order and then stole away in the middle of the night.”
She jostled the provisions, seeking a better grip. “So there you have it.” She glanced up. “Please believe me when I say that I cannot, will not , wait.”
Jocelyn nodded. It was a terrible tale; impossible, very sad. A greedy mother; an undesired match—or match es —so much money and a young woman’s freedom at stake. Still, the plan she described? It could not be.
Marissa ambled up with a second broom and tipped the handle in Jocelyn’s direction. Jocelyn strained around her rags to receive it and leaned in toward Piety. “Assuming you can convince the earl, himself, about this, er, passage ,” she whispered, “what will his family say? His friends? The marchioness believes he has released the staff, but surely not everyone has been let go. The gossip of only one chambermaid could cause a scandal from which you might not recover.”
“Oh, the
“But why not?”
Piety ambled a slow circle around her supplies, rubbing two fingers back and forth across her brow.
Finally, she said, “My mother? These vile men, her stepsons? They could turn up here, in Henrietta Place, any day. They can and, mind you, they will . And when they come, sooner rather than later, I must look established. Settled. I must look entirely immovable. I need to be in and out of every level of this house immediately, but not just me, carpenters, painters, delivery men with furniture, too.”
“Your mother will come here?” asked Jocelyn. “I hadn’t realized . . . ”
“I have no doubt that they will chase me here. When they discover my precise location and rally their combined conniving spirit, they will come. It could be . . . Really, I suppose, it could be anytime, depending on how soon they managed to sail from New York behind me. That’s the entire reason for my haste. It must look as if—nay, it must be that—all the money is spent, sunk irrevocably into this house. The fortune must look no longer available, even to me, save as a property that I now occupy.”
Jocelyn blinked, tabling for a moment the topic of a joint passage shared with a bachelor earl. “But what will your mother do if she arrives to discover the money has not been spent?”
“If the money is not tied up, one way or the other, my mother will seize it for sure.”
“But how? If the money is yours? If the house is yours?”
“She would haul me back to America and force me to marry one of her horrid stepsons. There is no man in this equation, don’t you see? My father left his clear intentions in the will, but ultimately, I have very few rights. If my mother looks hard enough, she will discover a way to requisition the money.”
“And you feel sure,” Jocelyn asked, “that your mother does not have your best interest at heart? To settle you in a marriage that keeps you close to her care, perhaps, despite your distaste for the prospective groom?”
“Of this I am very sure.” Piety sighed, toeing the weeds of the garden with her boot. “My mother doesn’t want me. All she wants is the money. American dollars. Ready currency for ready spending. She’s struck a deal with the Limpetts. If one of them manages to marry me, she and the husband will divide my money. They’ll want nothing tied up in property, of course, and certainly not a property gutted by carpenters.” She looked up and smiled a sad, tired smile.
Piety shook her head, gathering up her pail and basket. “I gave her my own house, you know. My father willed our New York house entirely to me. It is a lovely home filled with beautiful things, as she well knows. It took her less than a week to install the stocking king and his reptilian spawn throughout—and then to make designs on me. That is when I decided to come here. To select a new home for myself, as far away—and as difficult to wrench away—as possible. I gave myself three months in which to get my affairs in order and then stole away in the middle of the night.”
She jostled the provisions, seeking a better grip. “So there you have it.” She glanced up. “Please believe me when I say that I cannot, will not , wait.”
Jocelyn nodded. It was a terrible tale; impossible, very sad. A greedy mother; an undesired match—or match es —so much money and a young woman’s freedom at stake. Still, the plan she described? It could not be.
Marissa ambled up with a second broom and tipped the handle in Jocelyn’s direction. Jocelyn strained around her rags to receive it and leaned in toward Piety. “Assuming you can convince the earl, himself, about this, er, passage ,” she whispered, “what will his family say? His friends? The marchioness believes he has released the staff, but surely not everyone has been let go. The gossip of only one chambermaid could cause a scandal from which you might not recover.”
“Oh, the
Similar Books
