A Wicked Liaison. Christine Merrill
character, and not his own for denying her funds and leaving her in need. She had learned from past discussions that, although Freddy was nearly useless at his best, if she angered him or questioned his judgement he could be even worse.
She had refused a servant’s offer of refreshment for the third time before Freddy deigned to grace her with his presence, still in his riding coat. The smell of horses followed him into the room, and she noticed, with distaste, that there was mud from the stable still on his boot. He was tracking it on the Aubusson.
Not her Aubusson, she reminded herself. And not her problem. Someone would clean it. It did not matter.
‘Aunt Constance, to what do I owe the pleasure?’ There was a moment’s awkwardness as he greeted her, and remembered that he was her better, and not a guest in her house.
‘I wish it were only for pleasure that I am visiting, your Grace.’ She rose to greet him, dropping a respectful curtsy.
‘Please, Constance. Call me Freddy.’ There was still the touch of a little boy’s pleading as he said it. ‘You can, you know. I want you to treat this as though it were your home. It can be your home in truth, if you wish. Lord knows, I could use a woman with a level head to run the household for me.’
And how could she tell him that she could not bear to? The memories of Robert were still fresh in her mind. The knowledge that the servants were no longer hers to command, and that she could, and should be, displaced when Freddy took a wife of his own—she tried not to shudder at the thought.
‘You know I must not, Freddy. It is no longer my place. It would be far better were you to find a wife to take the house in hand.’
He scoffed. ‘Settle down so soon? Surely there is time for that later. I am just learning to enjoy the advantages of the title. A wife would spoil it all.’
She dreaded to think what advantages he had discovered that would be so hindered by a wife. ‘It is your duty, you know,’ she reminded, as gently as possible.
Freddy shook his head like a stubborn child. ‘All you ever talk of is duty, Aunt Constance. There is more to life than doing one’s duty.’
‘Duty is much a part of your position, Freddy. You have a responsibility to your King, to your tenants, to your servants.’ She hoped that the responsibility to herself was implied, and that he would not make her beg for her allowance.
‘Well, yes. I suppose. But Parliament is not currently in session. So there is one thing I needn’t worry about. And the tenants take care of themselves, for the most part.’
She resisted the urge to point out that they never seemed to manage it, when her husband was alive. ‘But there is still the matter of the collecting of rents, and the paying of bills, and making sure that all your financial obligations are met.’ And there was a broad enough hint, if he cared to take it.
‘But it is a tiresome business to worry over every little detail, when the sun is shining and one is aching for a gallop.’ Although Freddy’s dirty boots had come home, his mind was still on horseback in the park.
‘An estate manager, or man of business, can take care of such things. It would leave you with less to worry about.’
‘But, Aunt Constance, I am not worried now.’ As Freddy smiled, it was evident that her financial problems had in no way touched him. ‘And being duke is not so hard as all that, I’m sure. With a little practice, I can manage the estates on my own, just as Uncle Robert did.’
Constance fought the urge to inform Freddy how distant his abilities were from those of his uncle. She took a deep breath, and tried a different way. ‘I am sure you are right, Freddy. Once you have held the title for a while, you will have everything set to rights. But I must admit, right now, that I was rather hoping we could deal with the part of the estate that concerns my allowance. It worries me greatly, that I have not received this month’s cheque, and in the past, the amount—’ she took another breath and rushed through the next words ‘—has not been sufficient to cover expenses.’
‘You know,’ said Freddy, as though the thought had just occurred to him, ‘that if you were to live in the dower house of the manor, your expenses would not be so very great.’
‘They are not great now, I assure you. I have made what economies I can.’ A year of mutton instead of lamb, and no shopping, and cuts in staff had done nothing to make the income match the outflow.
‘But really, Aunt Constance. Be sensible. If you were to leave London and return to the country, I need not give you any allowance at all.’ He was smiling as though he had found the perfect solution.
‘That is not technically true, Freddy,’ she said. ‘I still must eat. And pay my maid. And there are dresses to buy, carriages to hire, small entertainments…The only way you will be free of the expense of me is when I remarry and my upkeep falls upon my husband.’
He stared at her as though the idea had never occurred to him. ‘Surely you do not mean to remarry so soon, Aunt Constance.’
‘On the contrary, Freddy, I find it a most respectable choice. I am sure that Robert would have had no problem with it. He said as much to me, when he was alive. And he always meant me to set up housekeeping in town, in hopes that I might meet someone suitable, and not be too much alone. For that reason, he deeded me the house in Grosvenor Square. Speaking of which…’ she eased the conversation towards her next request ‘…if possible, I would like to take the deed away with me today, to give to my bankers.’
Freddy’s brow furrowed. ‘I never saw the logic in Uncle Robert’s deeding the house to you, Aunt Constance. It is too much responsibility for a woman, in my opinion. As I told you before, you are welcome here, or in the dower house, in Sussex. It is very nice.’
She had to hide her annoyance before continuing. ‘I have no doubt it is a nice house, Freddy. I decorated it myself, for Robert’s mother. And I have no problem staying in it. When I visit,’ she said, slowly and clearly. ‘But I have no wish to move back to Sussex. Robert meant for me to be out in London, after he died, mixing freely with society.’
‘But why must it be London? Society in the country was quite good enough for you before.’
‘Although the country life is most pleasant, I know the gentlemen in the neighbourhood, and can assure you there is no one to suit me, in regards to matrimony. I am not likely to meet a husband if I cloister myself in the dower house.’
‘If you are there, where I can keep an eye on you, I can advise you, if and when it comes to the matter of your marriage.’
If and when she married? ‘Freddy,’ she said, struggling to maintain her temper, ‘I am not a child that needs advice in this matter. I am a full six years older than you, and will know a good match when I see it. I do not need your advice, or your permission.’
‘But you do need my money,’ he pointed out, petulantly.
‘Not for so very much longer, I hope. I am endeavouring to be out of your hair and your pocketbook with as much expedience as I can manage. But you need to help me in this, Freddy.’ She softened. ‘Please. If you will give me my allowance, I can pay my bills and will not bother you again for quite some time. Perhaps never. If you give me the deed, I can dispense with the house, and move to simpler accommodations. It will mean less expense for both of us.’
Freddy looked uncomfortable. ‘The deed is fine where it is. I really do not see the need to bother you with the care of it.’
‘Oh, it is no bother, Freddy,’ she assured him. ‘It makes sense, does it not, to keep it with the rest of my papers? And it will be one less thing you need to keep track of.’
His eyes darted around the room, as though looking for some excuse to escape the conversation. ‘I mean…really, Constance, you cannot expect me to lay hands on the thing, on such short notice.’
‘Freddy, it is not short notice at all. I have asked you for it for the better part of a year. Please can you