“That is hardly my fault,” Fanny said darkly. “Basil is critical of my every effort because of the ‘sinful’ life I lead. It is beyond irksome.” She made a scoffing sound. “I should give up my livelihood simply because he disapproves? What does he know? He is a lowly law clerk, for heaven’s sake. I have noblemen fighting for my favors. I don’t require his approval.”
Hearing the disgruntled resentment in Fanny’s tone, Lily tried to offer some consoling words. “Basil adores you, he always has.”
“Well, he has a fine way of showing it. Just this morning he accused me of putting too much emphasis on beauty. And him as tall and gangly as a scarecrow. If I looked a fraction as homely as he does, I would starve to death.”
“I think perhaps he is envious of your patrons,” Lily said thoughtfully.
Fanny stared at her. “I don’t believe it,” she stated flatly. Then less strongly: “I would never take Basil on as a client, even if he could afford to keep me, which he can’t. I enjoy men who make me laugh, and Basil certainly does not. Now, if he had an ounce of Lord Claybourne’s charm, I could better deal with him.”
Lily’s brows drew together at the leading comment. “What are you saying, Fanny?”
“Just that I think you should at least consider Claybourne’s proposal of marriage.”
It was Lily’s turn to grimace. “Did Fleur and Chantel press you to coerce me?”
“No, not at all. But I must say I agree with them. There are significant advantages to you becoming Claybourne’s marchioness.”
Her exasperation rising, Lily narrowed her eyes on her traitorous friend. “It amazes me that you would take their side. You never wished to marry.”
“No…” Fanny replied slowly. “Our childhood in Hampshire was so deadly dull that all I could think of was escape. I wanted to be wild and gay, to fill my life with excitement and pleasure, not settle down as some fat squire’s broodmare. But I sometimes wonder if I made the right decision. I do get lonely at times, Lily, despite the gaiety. And having a husband and family might be the antidote to my doldrums. At least marriage is looking more and more appealing as I grow older.”
She was entirely serious, Lily realized with astonishment. Yet Fanny’s possible change of heart regarding matrimony had nothing to do with her.
Lily shook her head. “Being lonely is better than suffering the pain my mother endured all those years of marriage.”
“You might be happy with the right husband.”
“I don’t intend to risk it. Now, may we please change the subject?”
Smiling ruefully, Fanny obliged. “Very well. Do you mean to attend Lady Freemantle’s garden party on Saturday?”
“Yes…even though Lord Claybourne will likely be there and Winifred is sure to throw us together. I want to see my sisters. It has been over a month since I’ve even laid eyes on them. And now that his lordship knows my location, I have no reason to keep away from home.”
“Lady Freemantle kindly invited me,” Fanny disclosed. “So would you like to ride with me in my carriage?”
“Yes, indeed,” Lily replied, “since I have no transportation of my own here in London-”
Just then Ellen the maid hurried into the drawing room, wringing her hands on her apron in obvious agitation. “Beg pardon, Miss Irwin…Miss Loring…but I think you should come at once. There’s a gent in Miss Delee’s sitting room who won’t leave. Mister O’Rourke is his name.”
Her face paling, Fanny jumped up and made for the door, and Lily immediately followed her. Mick O’Rourke was the gaming hell owner to whom Fleur and Chantel owed thirty thousand pounds. Most likely he had come to demand the return of his money, and to possibly renew his threat to send them to debtors’ prison.
“What will you tell him?” Lily asked as they quickly mounted the front staircase in the entrance hall.
“I don’t know,” Fanny said worriedly. “I will have to implore him to grant us a little more time, since we don’t have the means to pay him just yet. And once I explain our plans for the soiree, perhaps he will be amenable. Mick always was an astute businessman.”
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they hastened down the corridor. Lily was directly on Fanny’s heels when they reached the sitting room. But what she saw when they entered made her blood run cold.
While Chantel cowered on a corner of the settee, a ruggedly built, ebony-haired man stood menacingly close to Fleur, clutching her arm and growling down at her. “I have been lenient so far, woman! I gave you extra time, an entire month. But my patience is at an end. I want my money now, or Fanny will answer to me.”
Fleur, however, only raised her chin imperiously to stare O’Rourke down. “You ill-bred oaf, I would not give you the time of day! You will not get a single halfpence as long as you continue to behave in this boorish manner. I demand you leave at once!”
His face mottled with anger. “You dare to call me ill-bred?”
“Yes, you brute!”
In response to her aspersion, his grasp on Fleur tightened and he twisted her arm behind her back hard enough to make her cry out.
“Mick, please! Let her go!” Fanny exclaimed in alarm.