A Wedding in Springtime (27 page)

“No, not quite. I have never spoken like that to my mother.” Louisa put her hand to her forehead in an unconscious mirror of her imposing matriarch. “But I should be asking you if you are all right. What happened?”

Genie collapsed on her bed. “I have been entirely deceived by the character of Mr. Blakely.”

“I thought him amiable.”

“Me too, but he… Louisa please do not let this be widely known, but my brother has done something very stupid. He left Oxford for a lark, got taken advantage of at a gaming establishment, and now owes Mr. Blakely a vast sum of money. I thought Mr. Blakely would forgive the debt, but he rescinded his offer of marriage and is demanding to be paid.”

“That is horrible! But perhaps I can help. How much does your brother owe?”

“Twelve thousand pounds.”

Louisa said nothing for a painful minute.

“I am so sorry,” said Louisa, “I could not even begin to raise that kind of money. You will need to go to my father.”

Genie put her own hand on her forehead. It did seem to help when the moment called for dramatic despair. “Would he be inclined to help? I was not sure he had ever forgiven my mother for breaking their engagement.”

“He does not speak of it,” said Louisa. “But my mother has spoken of it to me much. I was always admonished never to do as Lady Mary had done. She has told me many times she married Lord Bremerton so her children could enjoy a high station in society. But I do not care for society life. I hate to be a disappointment, but I have not the temperament for it.”

“Are you going to marry the Duke of Marchford?”

“I cannot.” Louisa shook her head firmly.

“How are you going to tell your parents?”

Louisa sighed. “If I knew how, I would have done it already.”

“Have you tried talking to the duke?”

“I tried at Almack’s, but he talked at length about his determination to be a good husband. I did not know how to tell him that—”

“You are in love with somebody else?” asked Genie gently.

Louisa stilled, suspicion in her eyes. “How did you know?”

“I heard you and a man in the garden at Lord and Lady Devine’s party. I confess, ever since, I have been trying to help bring you and Marchford to more friendly terms.”

Louisa nodded slowly, as if processing the information. “I understand. It would be easier if I could love the current duke, but I do not. One cannot always chose whom she loves.”

Genie was quiet for a moment. “Very true.”

“Perhaps if it would help, I could support you when you ask Father to help pay off your brother’s debts.”

Genie cringed. “I should hate to do it at all, but I suppose alone would be worse. I could support you talking to him about your engagement.”

“It is a plan,” said Louisa with a tentative smile.

***

“Twelve thousand pounds?” Lord Bremerton’s face grew so red Genie feared for his health. “You want me to pull your idiot brother out of debt to the tune of
twelve
thousand
pounds
?”

“Young people do make unwise choices. We should not fault them for it,” said Louisa in a small voice.

“Yes, they do, my dear,” said Lord Bremerton. “And I can only assume asking me to dissolve the engagement to the Duke of Marchford must be one of those unwise choices. You will marry the duke as planned. And Eugenia, your brother’s financial embarrassments are not my concern. Good day!”

The ladies walked from Lord Bremerton’s study with shared low spirits.

“Thank you for trying,” sighed Genie.

“And thank you as well,” said Louisa in a soft voice. “Genie, your mother eloped with your father. Is she happy?”

“Yes, quite happy I believe.”

“That is all I needed to know.” Louisa gave her a warm embrace. “I am glad I got to know you.”

“And I, you.” A question hung on Genie’s lips, unasked. She already knew the answer.

***

“Did you give the Talbot chit the information about the moneylender?” asked the Candyman.

“Aye, sir,” said Jem.

“I do wish we’d been able to collect her dowry before walking away, but those damn emeralds tipped our hand. No matter, I shall more than make up for that disappointment. Follow her wherever she goes. Make sure she gets here.”

“Maybe she’ll go somewheres else?” Jem had to jump fast to avoid the Candyman’s backhand.

“Just see that she gets here. I’ll know what to do with her when she arrives.”

Twenty-eight

None of the options before Genie were acceptable. The only thing that mattered now was saving her brother. If her family could not or would not help her, it was going to be up to her. A moneylender was an unpleasant idea, particularly since she had no way to pay the money back. But if she left her brother to face his own fate, she would lose him.

She could go to this moneylender and at least discover his terms. Perhaps there might be some way? Genie could not think of any but felt it was worth attempting. She would hate to think of her brother being lost if there was anything she could have done to prevent it.

Genie told her aunt she needed to rest, an idea that met with stony approval. After a few minutes, Genie slipped out the back way and asked Sammy the groom if he would call her a hack. He insisted he take her in the town coach, and she graciously accepted. When she arrived at the address in Piccadilly, she paused at the storefront. It was not what she expected.

“Got yourself a sweet tooth, Miss Talbot?” asked the groom with a smile.

“I suppose I do.” Genie mentally reviewed the address given her by the urchin. She thought this was what he said.

The storefront was little more than a door squished between two other shops. The door was painted dark brown with the words
Chocolate
Shoppe
painted in gold above it. When Jem had said the moneylender was called the Candyman, she thought this was another one of his odd street euphemisms she could not understand. She had not expected an actual chocolate shop.

“I just have a few purchases to make. I won’t be but a trice!” Genie kept her tone lighter than she felt.

Genie marched to the door and opened it before she could lose what little courage she had left. The shop was dark, with two small, round tables and chairs but no customers. The walls were lined with dark wooden shelves. On one side were boxes of cocoa to make hot chocolate. On the other were candy sweets displayed on platters. There were sweetmeats, bonbons, toffee, humbugs, fondant sculpted into animals, and boxes of marzipan. It was every child’s dream, yet it was eerily quiet in the store.

“Good afternoon, miss,” said a young boy at the counter who could not have been more than ten years old. He wore a dirty apron over his thin frame.

“Good afternoon,” said Genie, walking toward him. “I am looking for the Candyman.”

“You be Miss Talbot?”

“Yes,” said Genie, startled the child knew her name.

“Come this way, miss. The Candyman has been expecting you.”

A chill ran down her spine, but she would not allow herself to be easily cowed.

The lad led her to a side door concealed in the paneling. It opened to a dim room, even darker than the store.

“Come in,” said a man with a low, gravelly voice. He was sitting at a table, almost entirely in the dark. Resembling an undertaker in appearance, he wore all black with a hat pulled low, concealing his face.

“Did a young boy tell you I was coming?” asked Genie.

“Indeed he did. Helpful lad, Jem,” said the man in an oddly low tone, almost as if he was concealing his true voice.

“Then can I surmise that he informed you why I am here?”

“Yes, yes. You are to be commended to take such care of your brother. Come, sit. I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

Genie did not like the way he said that word. She did not like this man at all and ventured no further into the room. “Please state your terms, Mr…”

“Candyman is what you may call me, missy. I see you are one to get down to business. No chitchat for you today, eh, missy?” His tone was not as friendly as his words and she could not like the way he rubbed his hands together.

Genie said nothing and waited. He wanted her here for a reason, and she was certain he would get to it sooner without her help.

“Yes, well, terms. It is a grievous amount of blunt your brother lost. Grievous indeed.”

“Twelve thousand pounds. What are you terms?”

“Well, now, if I be giving you such a large sum of money, what’s to say you will be able to pay me back? Tell me, Miss Talbot, how you intend to repay me?”

“I have some pin money I receive every week—”

“Miss Talbot! Pin money? We are speaking of twelve thousand pounds, my dear. Not even the pin money for the royal princess would be enough to repay that amount.”

“So you will not lend me the money?”

“Now, now, let’s not get too hasty. I see you are upset. Poor dear. Now, let me see if I can be of help. Maybe instead of money, you can pay me in service.”

Genie stiffened. There was a limit to what she would do for her brother. “I am a respectable lady.”

“You haven’t even heard my proposal. And my but you do make some interesting assumptions. I’m not talking of that sort of arrangement, though I will say you could make a pretty penny on your back. But women, they always have it easy, just lie back and do nothing for their supper, but don’t they complain about it, like you actually asked them to work.”

Genie took a step backward at that pretty speech. She should not have come.

“What I want from you is a piece of paper. That’s all,” said the Candyman, his voice dropping even lower.

“A piece of paper?” Genie wished she could see this man, but he kept to the shadow, the hat brim concealing his features.

“See now, not so bad, not so bad. One letter is all I ask for twelve thousand pounds. You won’t get better odds. You bring me the letter, and I’ll pay your debt.”

“Why? What letter?”

“You needn’t be so nosy. You bring me the letter; I pay the debt. Do we have a deal?”

“What letter?” Genie repeated.

“In the study of the Duke of Marchford is a safe behind a picture frame. Inside the safe is a letter with a red seal. Bring it to me and all your problems are answered.”

“I could not steal from the duke.” She could not, could she?

“Such a little thing to ask for the life of your brother,” said the Candyman in a soft low voice.

“My brother’s life?”

“He will be ruined if he cannot pay a debt of honor. Only one thing left to do but to take a swim in the Thames.”

“No!”

“Well now, missy, what did you expect? Only honorable thing to do if you have no hope to pay your debts, and so I told him.”

“Am I to understand that you recommended my brother take his own life?” Genie swallowed hard on the lump lodged in her throat. Her stomach tightened into granite.

“Didn’t recommend anything. Just saying, in certain circumstances, it is the only respectable thing to do. He asked for a loan but there was nothing
he
could do for me. Not like you. There is a way
you
can pay the debt.”

“He is an impressionable young man, you have no business recommending suicide.”

“There now, don’t take a pet. It will all be right as rain when you bring me the letter.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Remember now, it has a red seal. When you get it, bring it to the Thorn and Thistle on Salt Street.”

“Not here?”

“Not here.”

“When should I meet you?”

“Go to the Thorn and Thistle and say you are looking for the Candyman. They’ll find me. Mind you, do not give it to anyone else. And come alone. Don’t bring your driver next time.”

“I cannot possibly go to a public house unchaperoned in London.”

“Don’t you worry. You won’t be alone for long.” His tone made her wish she were a lad, so she could knock him senseless. Genie blinked at the sudden violent turn her thoughts had taken. It was the second time in one day that she had wished to do harm to another person.

“I simply cannot steal and go to a public house. I cannot.” Yet even as she said it, she doubted herself. What if this was the only way?

“It’s your choice, of course. This key will open the safe.”

Genie stared at the key he held out to her for a long moment. The man’s hand was thrust out into the light from the doorway, revealing ugly red scars. She was loathe to touch anything those hands had come into contact with until she realized the scars were severe burns, not a contagion.

“’Tis your brother, deary,” said the Candyman. “Only you can know what his life is worth.”

Genie took the key.

“That’s a good girl.”

But Genie left the strange shop feeling anything but good.

Twenty-nine

Dinner had not gone well. Lady Bremerton refused to talk, Louisa never spoke as a rule, and Genie had nothing to say. The absence of female chatter created a vacuum, which her uncle surprised the company by being willing to fill. Despite the unpleasantness of the afternoon caused by a minor revolt led by the two young ladies, Lord Bremerton was in fine fettle for having taken command of his ship.

He spoke first of the weather, then of the war, and then, as if the pump had been primed, of his friend Robby, who had been a general in a war before Genie had been born. Lord Bremerton told anyone who would listen, which at the silent table was everyone, that Robby was planning on visiting London and had promised to come to the engagement ball for Louisa.

Genie kept her eyes on her meal and ignored her uncle’s speech. She had less than twelve hours to find a solution for her brother. His mood had been despondent this morning. If he came back tomorrow morning and Genie could not provide him with good news, he might give up hope entirely. She needed to do something.

She considered her visit to the chocolate shop. He wanted her to steal for him, to steal sensitive documents. She may be naive, but she was not so stupid as to think stealing documents from the duke’s study would be a good plan. No, that option was definitely out.