“Are you chucking me out?” she inquired. Their relationship had reached the stage where they could be very plain with one another.
“I am. I have a great deal of business to get through before we go to the theater.” He took out a gold watch. “I’m expecting someone.”
“Excuse me for cluttering up your life,” Tony said with a tinge of amused sarcasm.
Savage shrugged philosophically. “It takes a deal of time and patience before a cub is housebroken.”
Tony only pretended amusement. She was piqued that all he wanted to do was read her the riot act, then dismiss her. She walked slowly around the corner and waited a few minutes. She doubted he had a business appointment. She felt better when a well-equipped carriage drew up with a crest upon its black, shiny door. Savage had been telling the truth after all. She felt decidedly worse when a beautiful woman was handed down from the carriage, elegantly attired in cream damask and black ostrich feathers. He had business to attend to, all right. Funny bloody business!
When the Countess of Essex was shown into Savage’s office, he had nothing but business in mind. He was determined to loosen her purse strings for a cause that was important to him. She threw out obvious lures to which he responded verbally, but he had more good sense than to seduce the Earl of Essex’s wife when he might need the man as a political ally.
Tony sat in the window seat of Anthony’s bedchamber with her knees drawn up to hold the journal. She dipped her pen and wrote decisively:
Adam Savage is inhuman. He is part man, part beast. The beast is definitely a leopard. I am not the first to mark the resemblance. He is aware of it himself, for he named his plantation in Ceylon Leopard’s Leap. Savage wears a mask, as does everyone in today’s society, yet I suspect his mask disguises a personality that is fathomless. If the mask were stripped away I do not yet know if I would find him uncivilized or ultracivilized. I suspect beneath the surface he is wild and untamed.
He is dominant and controlling, yet clever enough not to oppress or bully. He goads me to anger, then mollifies me with his wisdom, his generosity, or his humor. His advice is always sound, and inexplicably this infuriates me. The single thing, however, that shoots my temper to the boiling point is his look of utter contempt. I am determined to wipe it from his arrogant face.
He allows me a great deal of slack and thinks I am unaware he has me on a leash. He is in for a shock, for I intend to slip the line. I do not underestimate him, for I have heard the growl beneath the velvet voice and felt a hint of his claws when he mauled my character this morning. He intends to make a man of me, but I would much rather he make a woman of me.
Tony clutched the pen so intensely, the nib made a large blot of ink. She snapped the journal closed, appalled at where her thoughts were leading. The damned journal lured her secrets from her. She decided to put her time to better use than daydreaming over Savage. She must decide on a cargo to export to the Indies.
That afternoon she browsed about London’s shops, but the only things that struck her fancy were furnishings for Edenwood. She purchased a pianoforte on the spot, knowing instinctively Savage would want the latest musical invention, which was a vast improvement over the harp-sicord because it could be played loud or soft on the same keyboard. She also bought a dinner service for twenty-four designed by Wedgwood, in a pale shade of lavender with white ornamental relief. The classical design was perfection , the craftsmanship unparalleled. Edenwood should also have a tea service of Sèvres china and probably a breakfast service as well, but knowing Savage she thought perhaps he’d make those purchases on a visit to the Continent rather than pay inflated import prices. By the amount of imported goods in the shops, however, other people must be willing to pay the inflated prices, she realized. Then it struck her: The rarer the object, the higher the price, the greater the demand. Only think what the demand in the far-off Indies must be for scarce Continental and English goods!
The thought of making money made her mouth go dry. She licked her lips and thought of her mother and the other ladies transplanted to the East. They must create an insatiable demand for the latest fashions, especially those that lent themselves to a hot climate, such as parasols, leghorn hats, painted fans, muslin undergarments, tulle evening gowns, satin slippers.
After a woman adorned herself, she adorned her home. Tony’s excitement built as she thought of exporting Venetian mirrors and crystal goblets and all the other elegant French and Italian furnishings. She couldn’t wait to tell Adam Savage that she had decided upon her cargo.
On the carriage ride to the theater she broached the subject. Adam watched Tony through narrowed eyes as he became animated about women’s underpinnings, parasols, and other fal-lols to frippery. Young Lamb’s ideas were not without merit but they were decidedly feminine.
Crushing down the curl of fear inside his gut, Savage was determined to eradicate the youth’s effeminate tendencies and allow his masculinity to assert itself. After the theater they would visit a bordello, where he would make certain Tony was initiated. In his wisdom Savage knew that the youth would remain in limbo until he had asserted himself sexually. Once this first hurdle had been taken, nature would do the rest.
Adam had been thinking of attending the opera; now he changed his mind and decided to visit the Olympian, where a broad sex farce was playing.
At first he watched Tony from the corner of his eye as the scantily clad beauties romped about the stage delivering lines ripe with innuendo, but soon he was caught up in the bawdy fun of it all and his laughter rolled out frequently. The entire plot was taken up by men trying by one device or another to get into their ladies’ knickers, but it was all done with such clever, sly banter, the audience was almost rolling in the aisles.
Tony laughed, too, but she was glad the lights were low, for her cheeks were suffused with blushes. Before the halftime curtain came down, the principal actress strutted to center stage and sang a song about “The Dew Upon the Lily.” She was an outrageously saucy baggage and the men all sat forward, rapt with undivided attention.
The minute the curtain was down and the house gaslights were lit, Savage stood up. “What a delightful little dollymop. Let’s go backstage.”
Tony was annoyed. “You’re easily pleased. I thought the song insipid.”
As they made their way backstage, Adam cocked a dark brow. “Don’t you know what ‘dew on the lily’ is?”
“Of course I know …” Tony faltered. Obviously there was a more subtle meaning. “I suppose I need a translation,” she admitted.
“It means she wants it so badly, she’s wet for you … dew on the lily.” Savage clearly saw Tony still did not fully comprehend. He was beginning to think the lad would make a monk.
Backstage was crowded with performers, dressers, scenery movers, and members of the audience who were seeking assignations. Savage walked a direct path to the actress of his choice and joined the circle of admirers who surrounded her. He introduced himself and the saucy cocotte held out her hand for him to kiss and told him her name was Angela Brown.
“I should like to introduce you to my young friend, Lord Anthony Lamb.”
Her eyes went wide and then her smile did the same. A young man who stood beside her said, “Well, stab me, you’re my cousin Tony. I’m Bernard Lamb. Small world, isn’t it?”
Antonia almost fainted. She stared at Bernard Lamb and hoped the horror she felt inside of her didn’t show upon her face. She could almost taste her fear. Here was the greedy cousin who coveted her twin’s title, Lamb Hall, and all their worldly goods. Why did bad luck dog her footsteps? Bernard Lamb must learn nothing from her. Very coldly she murmured, “How d’you do,” and turned away to strike up a conversation with a petite girl from the chorus.
The girl had overheard that the young buck who spoke to her possessed a title. She hung on to Tony’s every word, managing to touch the hand and brush against the thigh of the slim young man all at the same time. She chattered on in animated fashion, but all Tony heard was that her name was Dolly. The only thing she wanted was to escape from Bernard Lamb’s presence.
Adam Savage was angry. He shook young Bernard Lamb’s hand and told him he was delighted to meet one of Tony’s relatives. He covered the best way he could. “I think Tony was going to invite the young lady to supper, but could see you had beat him to the prize.”