A Husband's Wicked Ways by Jane Feather Read Free Book Online

more suitable for paying morning calls.
    Would Aurelia receive him?
    A good question, but he was hoping that Frederick’s letter would have had a softening effect on the lady. He had no idea what Frederick had written, but he knew he would have spoken well of his comrade, if he’d mentioned him at all. But it was difficult to imagine a letter in such circumstances that failed to mention Colonel Falconer.
    Critically, he examined his image in the long mirror. He’d been away from the social circuit, apart from flying visits to London, for close to fifteen years, and he suspected the tailoring of his present garments was somewhat outmoded. He rarely gave thought to his dress; most of the time he was either in uniform or dressed for some activity that bore no relation to morning calls, rout parties, or Almack’s Assembly Rooms. He’d clearly have to update his wardrobe, but for the moment he could find little to object to in his dark gray coat and buckskin britches. They’d been made for a younger man, but good tailoring will always tell, and the coat still fitted him well across the shoulders. He had tied his linen cravat in a modest but perfectly acceptable knot, and his top boots, while not cleaned with champagne, had a respectable shimmer to them.
    He took up his beaver hat and gloves and hefted the slender, silver-knobbed cane he always carried, weighing it in his hand, feeling the delicate balance. The stick was transformed at the touch of a spring into a wickedly sharp sword and had proved indispensable on many occasions. Not that he expected to need it on the streets ofLondon during a cool March-morning stroll. But one never knew in his business.
     

    “Mama…mama…why are you taking me to Stevie’s?” Franny tugged at her mother’s arm. “Why isn’t Daisy taking me?”
    Aurelia looked down at her prancing daughter with a slightly distracted smile. “In a minute, Franny. I’m talking to Morecombe.”
    “Yes, but why ?” the little girl demanded, but with less urgency in her tone; it was more a matter of form.
    “Prince Prokov’s wine merchant usually calls on the third Thursday of the month, Morecombe. When he comes today, if I’m not back, could you make sure he understands that this month’s delivery is to be shipped to the country?” Aurelia drew on her gloves as she spoke. “And the prince is most insistent that two cases of the vintage champagne be included in the delivery.”
    “Oh, aye,” Morecombe said. “That’ll be for Lady Livia’s confinement, I daresay.”
    “Yes…well, perhaps not the confinement itself but its results,” Aurelia said with a smile. “Only another three weeks to go.”
    “Aye, well, we wishes her all the best fer a safe delivery,” the old man declared. “Our Mavis an’ our Ada ’ave been knittin’ away for months now. There’s bootees, an’ caps, and whatnot all over the ’ouse.”
    Aurelia laughed. “They’ll be well appreciated, Morecombe…. All right, Franny. We’re going now.”
    “I’ll be late,” Franny announced with a note of satisfaction. “And Miss Alison will be cross.”
    “No, she won’t,” her mother returned. “You won’t be late anyway, it’s barely a quarter to nine.” She took her daughter’s hand and hurried her out of the house.
    “But why are you taking me an’ not Daisy?” Franny repeated her unanswered question.
    “Oh, I wanted to see Aunt Nell about something,” Aurelia said vaguely. In truth, even though she knew she must honor Frederick’s request that she say nothing about the extraordinary situation, she was driven to seek her friend’s company this morning because she needed its familiarity, a return to a sense of normality that she hoped the easy comfort of Nell’s presence would give her.
    Franny was prattling in her inconsequential fashion as they walked briskly along the quiet streets. It was a chilly morning, a fresh March wind gusting around the corners, and they swung hands to keep