“Of course you do.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Oates leave him in that room by himself for far too long at a time.” Beatrice shook her head. The Oateses’ reaction to their son’s horrific injuries when he returned home had long been a source of concern for her. “They’ve given up on him, I think.”
“I’m sorry, dear.”
“They looked at him when he returned,” Beatrice whispered, “and it was as if he were already dead. As if he meant nothing to them unless he was entirely whole and well. They’ve now turned to Jeremy’s brother, Alfred, and treat him as if he is the heir instead of Jeremy.”
Beatrice looked at her friend, and this time she couldn’t keep the tears from swimming in her eyes. “And that horrible Frances Cunningham! I still get angry when I think how she threw him over when he returned. It’s so shameful.”
“Pity, isn’t it, that no one condemned her for her heartlessness,” Lottie said thoughtfully. “But then he had lost his legs and wasn’t expected to live.”
“She could’ve at least waited until he was out of the sickroom,” Beatrice muttered darkly. “And she’s married now. Did you know? To a baronet.”
“A fat, old baronet,” Lottie said with satisfaction. “Or so I’ve heard. Perhaps she got her just deserts after all.”
“Humph.” Beatrice stared a moment at the putti. The one on the corner of the table nearest her looked remarkably like a fat old man with digestive troubles. Perhaps Frances Cunningham had gotten what she’d deserved. “But you understand, don’t you, how important it is that this bill is passed now—not a year or two hence?”
“Yes, I do.” Lottie linked her arm with Beatrice’s, and they began to stroll again. “You are so good. Much better than me.”
“You want this bill passed as well.”
“But my interest is theoretical.” A faint smile curved Lottie’s wide mouth. “I think it only just that men who have served for years in sometimes deplorable conditions have a fair compensation. You, dear Beatrice, believe with a passion. You feel for those wretched creatures, almost as much as you feel for Jeremy.”
“Perhaps,” Beatrice said. “But in the end, it’s Jeremy that I feel the most for.”
“Exactly. Which is why I am so concerned.”
“Whatever about?”
Lottie halted and took her hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed . . .”
Beatrice turned her face to the side, but even so, she could not escape the end of Lottie’s sentence.
“. . . if the bill is not passed in time.”
Chapter Five
Well, Longsword did not like this turn of events one wit, but a bargain once struck with the Goblin King is very hard to break. Thus he was compelled to work for the Goblin King, and that is a dirty job, indeed; I can tell you! He never saw the sun, he never heard laughter, and he never felt a cool breeze against his cheek, for the Goblin Kingdom, as you may have heard, is a horrible place. But the worst part for Longsword was the knowledge that the master he served and the things he did were an affront to God and Heaven itself.
Because of this, every year Longsword would go to his master, lower himself to one knee, and beg to be relieved of his horrible servitude.
And every year the Goblin King refused to let Longsword go….
—from Longsword
“Ridiculous that I can’t touch any of the Blanchard monies,” Reynaud growled a day later. He paced the little sitting room from fireplace to window, feeling like a wild wolf caged. “How am I to pay my lawyers without funds?”
“You can hardly blame Uncle Reggie for being reluctant to pay for his own ouster,” Miss Corning said. She sat serenely by the small fire, sipping some of her infernal tea.
“Ha! If he thinks that’ll stop me, he’ll be sorely disappointed,” Reynaud retorted. “I have a petition before parliament to form a special committee to look into my case.”
Miss Corning set her teacup down carefully. “Already? I had no idea.”
Reynaud snorted. “If it were tomorrow, it’d not be soon enough for me. Once I prove my identity, they cannot keep the title from me.”
Miss Corning frowned, fiddling with her teacup.
Reynaud’s brows snapped together. “You don’t believe me?”