* * * *
Charlotte would have preferred to spend the day in the company of Reilly and his friends, but such was not to be. Within moments of her introduction to Kenley Fairfax, Lady Epping caught hold of Charlotte and led her away. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder as Lady Epping towed her through the crowd, chattering about retiring to the ladies’ parlor for tea. She had a last, momentary glimpse of Kenley before the throng closed between them, obscuring him from view behind a forest of shoulders and wig-capped heads.
Guests parted company, the women retiring to gossip in one parlor, while the men gathered in another for brandies and hands of cards. Charlotte was forced into the insufferable company of Essex County’s aristocratic daughters and wives, and as the most recent victim of the Black Trio highwaymen, she found herself the unwitting center of attention amidst a swarm of eager chatter.
“Well, I, for one, fully intend to begin keeping jewels tucked down beneath the measure of my stay, just in case my carriage is stopped, and the thieves should decide to fondle me,” declared Payton Stockley, one of the parish’s most notorious gossips. She was a perfectly lovely young woman—until she opened her mouth, that is. She was prone to ramble nonstop and to the delight of her fellows with juicy tidbits about everything and everyone.
“I would make their efforts worth the while,” Payton said with a wink that left the other ladies around her giggling and fluttering their fans.
Payton’s notoriety as a rumormonger paled only in comparison to her older brother’s reputation. Julian Stockley, Baron Stapleford was a cad whose character was brought into question even more by whispered rumors that he had murdered his own father. The former Baron Stapleford had died after eating spoiled meat two years earlier. Although no evidence had ever been discovered to implicate Julian in his death, it was no tremendous secret that Julian had inherited a sizeable quotient of lands and funds, or that he had not mourned too long or terribly for his father’s untimely passing.
Charlotte was seldom inclined to lend much credence to rumors. Whether or not Julian had seen his father dead to his own benefit was irrelevant to her. Like his sister, she had always considered him unbearable either way.
“Miss Engle, darling, prithee tell,” Payton cooed, leaning toward her and tapping the folded spines of her hand fan against Charlotte’s wrist, much to her aggravation. “Were you not simply trembling at the highwayman’s touch? I mean, the terror of the moment not withstanding, did you not find even a fleeting thrill as that ruffian set his hands against your breasts?”
“Miss Stockley, if I found passing fancy from every moment of unintentional friction against my breasts, I could scarcely draw breath against my corset,” Charlotte said, wishing she had thought to bring a fan of her own, that she might reach out and whap Payton against the cap of her head with it.
Payton blinked at her and exchanged a sideways glance with another lady nearby. “I must say, if I was faced with such a thrilling prospect, I doubt I could draw breath in full,” she said. “A man who would dare touch a lady in such fashion must surely possess some worthwhile skills to back his mettle.”
“Are you prattling yet again about the Black Trio, Miss Stockley?” asked a young man from behind them.
He paused, making his way among the ladies toward the adjacent parlor, and looked at Payton with the corner of his mouth and his brow raised in amused tandem. “Someone might mistake you as in love, as loudly and often as you mention them.”
Payton turned and spared him a cool glance. “Why, Lord Hallingbury,” she purred, her lips lifting in a thin, icy smile. “What a surprise to discover you tucked among the ladies, rather than at the card tables. Someone might think you have not a haypenny to your purse, as obviously as you are avoiding them.”
As Payton spoke, Charlotte put a name to the young man’s face: Camden Iden, Baron Hallingbury. He was attractive in a doe-eyed, effeminate sort of fashion; his innocent appearance belied a rather improper penchant for wooing young noble daughters. By rumor, many a lady’s unsullied virtues had been lost to his bed. Charlotte had heard once that he kept a rather distasteful collection of garter ribbons in his highboy as testimony to his conquests. Payton Stockley had been one of his most recent. Caroline had told Charlotte the pair had carried on quite a conspicuous and reckless affair over the summer, and when Camden had broken it off abruptly to pursue another, it had apparently not settled well with Payton’s heart, mind, or pride.
Camden glowered at Payton for a long moment, then tromped away, leaving the women to fold together, whispering and wide-eyed.
“He does not have a cent to his name, you know,” Payton said, and as her friends all offered fluttering gasps of appropriate aghast, she nodded grimly. “His gambling has grown well out of hand. His debts are great enough now that they speak of debtor’s prison and Lord Hallingbury in nearly the same breath.”
“It is disgraceful,” one of the young ladies lamented, her pretty, powdered face scrunching into a frown. “Almost every eligible noble son in the whole county seems encumbered by debt anymore. How can any of us hope to find a suitable husband among them, if they all keep gambling away their purses?”
“What possible appeal does debt hold to them?” whispered another, shaking her head.
With this, their gossiping resumed, their chattering voices overlapping eagerly. Charlotte rolled her eyes and turned away, abandoning them. She had done her part to be the proper noble daughter for the day, but her patience had been taxed. She glanced around to make sure Lady Epping and Lady Chelmsford were both occupied with their own conversations, and followed Camden Iden for the gentlemen’s parlor.
It was unconventional for women to venture among the card tables, although common for them to cluster about the doorways if only to keep themselves visible to those eligible bachelors whose affections they hoped to garner. Charlotte wasted no time lingering uncertainly upon the threshold and walked inside. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, poised as though she had every reason and right in the world to pass among the men. She looked and found Reilly sitting around a table with Lewis at the far side of the room, and strode purposefully in his direction.
Kenley Fairfax stood in a corner nearby, watching his cousin play cards without joining. He looked at Charlotte as she approached, and she felt warmth flutter through her, snatching at her breath as his mouth unfurled in a smile.
“Are you going to play, Miss Engle?” someone asked, and she blinked down at Julian Stockley, beside whose chair she had happened to draw to a stumbling halt.
Charlotte glanced at Kenley again and toward Reilly. He arched his brow at her, perfectly aware that if Lady Epping discovered her playing cards with the men, she would pitch a fit. Charlotte looked at Lord Stapleford again. “Have you room for another?” she asked.
Julian laughed. “I should dare say for so lovely a distraction, we might all scoot our chairs a bit in accommodation,” he said. He lay his hand of cards face down on the table and motioned to his mates. “Make room, lads.”
The men rose, scooting their chairs closer to one another. Charlotte was so distracted by Kenley’s presence that she did not even notice James Houghton at the table until he was upon her, darting like a spider toward a hapless moth against its web. He drew a chair behind her, offering her a seat beside her brother and Charlotte blinked in surprise, nearly groaning aloud.
“What a pleasant surprise, darling,” James said with a smile.
“Thank you, James,” she said, settling herself against the cushioned seat as he eased the chair beneath her.
“You are most welcome,” he said, leaning over her shoulder so that his voice and breath brushed intimately against her ear. She sat facing the corner where Kenley stood, and she glanced at him. He had not missed this exchange between her and James, and though his expression seemed impassive and unbothered, Charlotte was embarrassed nonetheless by James’s possessive gesture. She shrugged her shoulder, frowning as she brushed James away.
“I suppose you shall need me to give you coins now,” Reilly said, smirking.
“You know I will only win twice fold to repay them,” she replied, and Reilly laughed.
“Do not tell me your sister is well-versed at cards,” Lewis said, raising an impressed brow at Charlotte.
“She is well-versed at anything she considers unconventional,” Reilly replied, shifting his weight to dip his fingertips into the fob pocket of his breeches. “Here. Six pennies,” he said, dropping the silver coins against her palm.
“Will you not give her more than this, Engle?” Camden Iden laughed from across the table, as he dealt Charlotte into the hand in progress. “She will not last a full round with that.”
“Oh, she will last,” Reilly said. “She will see us all broke if she fancies to sit here long enough.”
As the game resumed, Charlotte fell into her element. As much as she despised the conversations of women, she loved the discourse among men. Those at her table did not broach the subject of her robbery; they did not hound her for details or peer curiously at her.
They did not care for such topics, finding them as trivial and inane as Charlotte did. Instead, they discussed politics and economics.
Charlotte listened avidly, chiming in with her own points of view as she wished. The men may not have granted her much heed, and they regarded her with more amusement than any genuine consideration, but it did not trouble her. These were conversations about things she found interesting, if not fascinating and she meant to be a part of them, whether welcomed or not.
“The aristocracy as we know here in rural England is in its waning stages,” she said. Several hands of cards had been played, and her meager allotment of coins had grown considerably. She fanned her cards before her face, considered the wager on the table, and took a sip of Reilly’s brandy.
Julian laughed. “Waning?” he asked. He glanced about the table, his brow arched at his fellows. “I dare say that sounds a bit dire, does it not?”
“It is not dire,” Charlotte said. “Our economy is shifting toward new ventures, even as we speak. Wealthy and poor alike will have to shift with it, and our money should be invested where it is most likely to grow—in industry.”
Several of the men scoffed and scowled at this. “Charlotte, darling,” James said from across the table, drawing her gaze. “I certainly think most among us would agree that your interest in such matters is charming. However, perhaps we might be better served paying heed to the place where money is most likely to grow at this moment—the card table.”
Other men chuckled at this, and Charlotte pressed her lips together as she glared at James, feeling hot patches of humiliated color stoke in her cheeks.
“I should like to hear the lady’s thoughts on the matter,” Kenley Fairfax remarked from his corner. He stood in a comfortable pose with his shoulder leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest and Charlotte blinked at him, surprised by his intervention.
“Suppose I tendered my purse to your counsel—all of it in full, right now, this very moment,” Kenley said to her, drawing away from the wall and stepping toward the table. He looked at Charlotte with interest. “Where would you tell me to invest? Which industries would you recommend?”
“You would be a fool to give all of your money to a woman,” Camden Iden said. “I tell you where she will invest it—at the mercers and drapers of Cheapside!”
The other men laughed at this, but Charlotte and Kenley did not avert their gazes from one another. “I would recommend coalmining, Lord Theydon,” she said. “Iron-mining, steel production, and commerce.”
Kenley raised his brow. “Why these?” “Because they complement one another,”
Charlotte replied. “You are a landowner. You are readily growing crops, and in the process, you are feeding more and more people. An increased populace means an increased work force, but one generally confined to where employment is abundant, while education and skill demands are low, such as mining and manufacturing. Increases in coal- and iron-mining allow for an increase in steel production. The colonies overseas are dependent markets for exported goods, and now England is opening chartered trade routes with Asia. That means soon steel can be readily exported around the world into all sorts of new and profitable markets.”
James sighed wearily. “Darling…” he began.
“Have peace, Lord Roding. I would hear her out,” Kenley interjected, holding up his hand. James looked over his shoulder, shooting Kenley a scathing glance. Kenley ignored him completely and nodded at Charlotte. “Miss Engle?”
“The aristocracy has not invested in these developments, at least not here, or in other rural counties. That is why we are in our waning stages,” Charlotte said to Kenley. “These opportunities are being seized upon by noblemen in urban centers like London. They see what is happening—population growth, the promise of international trade—and they put their money down, just as any gambler at a card table. Only along with these, there are other investors with wagers to add: business owners, artisans, skilled laborers.
“Together, these investors are more willing to take chances because they understand a fundamental principle that we as rural aristocrats fail to consider—that wealth is not an entitlement. The noble investors will become the new aristocracy, rendering all but the most productive and competitive landowners obsolete. The lower class investors will become something new, a ‘middle class,’ if you will, between wealthy and poor. We are all standing on the threshold of significant economic change, and we are blind if we do not recognize it.”
Kenley’s gaze was so intense, she was nearly impaled by it. The rest of the room had faded around them, and to Charlotte, it felt like she sat alone before him engaged in conversation. “An industrial revolution,” he said quietly.
“Exactly,” she said, nodding.
“I do not know about the rest of you, but I have come to play cards,” Camden Iden complained loudly. Charlotte blinked, once again aware of the parlor filled with men and murmured conversations around them.
“Well said, Hallingbury,” James said, his brows narrowed. “Is this a party or an impromptu meeting of the House of Lords?”
The men chuckled and guffawed at this, and the moment was gone. Kenley nodded once in concession and withdrew from the table, returning to his corner. “I say, Theydon, since you seem so insistent on interrupting our game, why do you not take a seat and join us?” James said, glancing over his shoulder.
Kenley smiled slightly, and shook his head. “Thank you, Lord Roding, but no. I have neither the heart nor mind for cards.”
James turned away from him, his brow raised as he offered a soft, somewhat disdainful snort. He exchanged glances with Julian, who smirked with little humor and muttered, “Quite the pity your father did not feel the same.”
Charlotte glanced to her left and saw Lewis stiffen visibly, his brows pinching, his mouth opening to speak.
“No more so the pity than yours not sharing your apparent tolerance for rancid beef, Stapleford,” Kenley said before his cousin could offer a word. Julian blinked at Kenley, and Kenley met his gaze evenly. “Or was it lamb? I can never remember which.”
Julian said nothing; he sputtered quietly, and his face infused with sudden, bright color. Kenley nodded politely at the table. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen . .
. and Miss Engle…” He nodded again for Charlotte’s benefit. “I feel the sudden need for a spot of air, I think.”
He walked away, leaving the table shrouded in momentary silence.
Lewis sniffed, arching his brow. “Well, I suppose he told you, did he not, Stapleford?” he said, and the men laughed.
“Bugger off, Woodside,” Julian muttered, ablaze with embarrassment.
Charlotte watched Kenley make his way across the parlor. He paused at the threshold, apparently exchanging cordialities with the young ladies gathered there. When one of the girls spared a glance toward Charlotte, he followed her gaze, his brow raised as
though something the lady had said interested him. When he left the threshold, all of the ladies turned to follow with their gazes, their faces soft with adulation.
“I believe some fresh air might suit me, as well,” she said, rising to her feet. She pushed her coins toward Reilly. “There you go, doubled as promised and then some,” she murmured, turning to leave.
James rose from the table. “I will accompany you, darling,” he said. “Let me—”
She spared him a glance. “Do not worry for it, James,” she said dryly. “I am certain I can make it on my own.”