Chapter Seven
Lady Davina Hasket’s Guide to Planning and Scheming
Dav,
Please send another pair of hessians—black this time, for the love of all that is holy. Also, Tom is longing for one of Mrs. Ainsley’s tarts. I’m not at all confident it will arrive in an edible state, but I’d like to try. Lemon, please.
Also, please assure Mother that if the house were overrun with brownies, it would certainly be cleaner than it is at present.
Additionally, I have the great pleasure of informing you that you are an aunt. Sorcha gave birth on Christmas Day to a healthy wee boy, Ewan Thomas Hasket. Mother and babe are both well. He is the most perfect child I’ve ever held—though in fairness, you were the only child I’d held prior, so he had little in the way of competition.
He will be raised as my son and given the Rycliffe title. I have little doubt that he will do more justice to it than either Gabriel or I ever did. We’ve yet to work out the legalities, so please keep the news to yourself for now. Mother will not be able to contain her elations, and Cee… Well, I’ve no idea how or when to tell her about Sorcha.
I’m not certain what I’ve done to earn such blessings, but Scotland has been very kind to me indeed.
Warmest Regards,
Xander
P.S. You know that those shirts were far too small and therefore not an acceptable gift.
* * *
Xander,
Mother and I had a quiet Christmas at home, much less eventful than your own. Thank you for asking.
I’ve told Mother about the brownies, but now she’s concerned about your staff. I assured her that no respectable housekeeper would wish to be employed by you, though that seemed to upset her further and she now fears you may starve to death.
As for my nephew, I give you leave to think him more perfect than me, only because I am certain I shall agree when I hold him. Tell me, does he have the unfortunate brow?
Please thank Sorcha for the gift she has given our family.
Have you found a solution to the legitimacy problem as of yet?
As for Mother and Cee, I’ve chosen to heed your instructions only because I agree about Mother’s response, and I have no better notion of how to break the news to Cee.
Warmest Regards,
Davina
P.S. You said you’d been working to repair the house. Forgive me for anticipating that you might lose weight. I assured Mother that, were you starving to death, you would not be whining about the too-small shirts.
P.P.S. Thank you for the yarn straight from Fennella’s wool. I have no doubt that I will not learn to knit, but I will find someone who can make something charming with it.
* * *
Dav,
Thank you for the paints as well as the tart. It was little more than stale crumbs by the time it arrived, but that fact did not stop a grateful Tom from eating them all.
The mess is construction-based and not a failure of housekeeping. Please assure Mother that I am in no danger of starving to death. Nor have any of the other fairy story creatures attacked, replaced, eaten, drowned, or bewitched me. And they aren’t likely to do so.
Ewan has mastered the art of the smile with Tom’s encouragement and now does little else. He has also discovered his own extremities and takes great pleasure in putting them in his mouth. It should be revolting, but I am so in love that I find it utterly charming.
Sorcha is recovering well from the birth and seemed astonishingly appreciative of your thanks.
I’ve discovered no solutions to the legitimacy problem. I cannot write to Will without Cee learning of the babe and Sorcha. I do not wish to upset her so soon after she’s made strides toward moving on.
I hope Mother is managing the last dregs of winter well and is not too overwrought and that you are able to enjoy preparations for the season. I’ve sent extra to the modiste in preparation but do try not to spend all of it at once.
Warmest Regards,
Xander
* * *
Hasket House, London—March 27, 1817
Davina
I’ve discovered no solutions to the legitimacy problem…
For weeks I’d pondered the question of little Ewan’s legitimacy with no more ideas than Xander of how to assure it.
The truth was, I wasn’t built for problem solving. I was made for problem creation. More than once Xander had rescued me from an adventure gone wrong. Well, he had paid Mr. Summers to rescue me.
I sat atop my damp little arch on the roof, watching storm clouds gather in the distance. Lightning was in the air, and the metallic scent wrapped around me like a thick blanket.
Mother had struggled more than I cared to admit in Xander’s absence, sometimes refusing to leave her bed for days at a time. By sheer luck, I’d found a solution to that problem when I came across Cee’s mama in Hudson’s and she made the unfortunate choice to ask after Mother. She’d generously committed to visiting with her old friend twice a week.
I was trying to arrange an invitation for Mother to join her and her friend when they traveled to Bath in the spring. Otherwise I feared a relapse. But I was certain I could convince Mother that Cee was an appropriate chaperone for the season, even though I rather suspected she would attend few if any events in the coming season. In truth, Celine had always been a better chaperone than Mother.
There was no possibility that I would ever admit it, but I missed Xander. But if anyone was deserving of happiness in this life, it was my brother. And he seemed to have found it to spare in the little cricket, Tom, their babe, and their new home.
With Cee wed and Xander away, life in London had lost a little of its shine. In fact, I’d hardly had an adventure since Xander left. I really ought to plan something lest Mr. Summers grow complacent.
Mr. Summers.
The name swirled through my head, settling there before the actual idea solidified. Mr. Summers. Every single time an adventure had gone sideways, he had been there to put it to rights. With a stern countenance and a nearly unflappable demeanor, he hadn’t met a problem he couldn’t solve. And he would have the same legal knowledge as Will, whom we couldn’t ask because of Cee.
But there was yet another problem. While Will either knew or strongly suspected Xander’s preferences, Mr. Summers had no notions. I didn’t think he would have Xander bound in the pillory. He was a grumpy but generally honorable and kind man, and he’d looked the other way about some of my less-than-legal escapades. But what if he did?
If he could just see Xander and Tom and the babe, he would surely understand how happy they were. How right this was. He couldn’t betray them then. No one with a heart could, and Mr. Summers almost certainly had one of those.
He was also a gentleman. He would never willingly go with me alone to Scotland. Unless…
Unless he was forced. I could kidnap a man, surely. How hard could it be? And once he discovered my identity, we would be too far along for him to do anything about it.
Excitement began to thrum through my veins just as the lightning decided to make an appearance, striking across the sky somewhere on the other side of town.
I rose on the shingles and reached for my usual tree branch, caught it, and stepped onto the one below with ease. Then I shimmied toward the trunk before sliding down to climb back into my window. I shut the glass against the impending rain, then grabbed my writing desk and settled atop the bed.
Carefully, I started to write out my plan.
To Procure:
Carriage
Drivers
Horses
Provisions—little cake things
Weapon
Mask, wig?
Bribes for servants
Bribes for drivers?
Pin money
To Do:
Ensure Mother leaves for Bath
Consult map
Pack
Determine when Mr. Summers is likely to be in the offices alone
Finally, I felt a weight lift. I could do it. I could solve Xander’s problem for a change. Yes, he would be furious, but all would be forgiven when Mr. Summers presented them with a solution.
Yes, this was the way. Little Ewan would be made legitimate and this time I would be the one to save Xander. Everything would turn out well in the end. I was certain of it.