What Happens in Piccadilly - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,64

with him entirely.

“Thank you, your grace, for agreeing to speak with me,” Burney said, using his most ingratiating tone.

“I was curious as to what you might have to say… or rather, what you might have to say that you think could be worthy of my interest,” she replied disdainfully. Even as she spoke, she was inspecting a tray of chocolates, looking for the most appealing morsel as she, for all intents and purposes, ignored his presence. There was no invitation to sit, no hint of welcome.

“Oh, never fear, your grace. I have not come to waste your time. I have come with news of your long-lost granddaughter, heir to the Averston fortunes,” Burney replied smoothly. “Of course, if you feel the information unworthy of your time—”

“What do you want for this information?” The question was snapped, her tone sharp and her gaze sharper still.

“Four thousand pounds,” Burney replied smoothly.

The old woman laughed. She laughed until she began to cough and wheeze, fanning herself exuberantly as she waved to her servant with her other hand. The servant rushed forward with a vial of what he could only assume was laudanum. The old woman took a small dram of it and then, after a moment, her coughing began to ease.

“I have never known any information to be worth so much,” she stated blandly. “And what a specific sum to ask for, Mr. Burney. I imagine your sister’s debut last night set you back a tidy sum, did it not?”

“My sister?” It sparked a fear in him like nothing else that the vicious woman was even aware of Amelia’s existence.

The old woman smiled. “Indeed. Considering how closely you’ve become acquainted with my grandson, do you honestly think I would not make it a point to learn all I can about you? I know you inside and out, Mr. Charles Percival Burney, the third. Every dark and dirty secret… including the alarming amount of debt you’re facing. I am stunned you could get anyone to give you credit to hold such a soiree as you did last night.”

“My sister has nothing to do with this,” he stated firmly.

“Pretty girl… I suppose she might marry well enough. Assuming your behavior doesn’t cast a pall over her in the eyes of society,” the dowager duchess said, her cold gaze gleaming with triumph. “Share your information, Mr. Burney, and I will decide then if it warrants payment. You’ll get your four thousand pounds if I deem it so.”

“I can tell you her name, where she has been reared during her absence from your eyes, and where she is currently employed,” Burney stated.

“I would presume she’s earning a living as her mother did… lifting her shabby skirts for anyone who will toss her a coin,” the dowager duchess intoned in a manner that might have hinted at boredom if not for the quavering of her voice.

Burney saw through her. He could see the slight tremor in her hand. She feared the girl. Whatever this woman had done, she feared the identification of her granddaughter. “No, your grace. Indeed, she is quite respectable… and looks so very much like the portrait hanging in pride of place in your family home. Indeed, the resemblance is so remarkable that anyone who should ever see that portrait will not fail to recognize her.”

“Her name!” the dowager duchess demanded. “I would have it from you.”

“And I would have payment first,” Burney replied, putting as much steel in his voice as he could muster. He would not be made a fool of by another member of this family.

The woman waved to her servant again. The girl, dressed all in black and looking like a scared rabbit, hurried away to do the dowager duchess’ bidding. Moments later, she returned with a mahogany box inlaid with pearl and gold. The dowager duchess removed a key from the pocket of her gown and fitted it into the lock box where she retrieved several bank notes. A footman stood by with quill and ink. They were signed hastily, sanded and then delivered to him by the same black-clad servant girl who’d fetched the box to start with. Four thousand pounds in hand . Burney stared at them for the longest moment. He’d sold his soul for them, after all, but at least his mother and sister would be safe.

“She goes by the name St. James,” he said. “She’s currently employed as a governess for the Earl of Montgomery. But she’s not in house. She resides at the Darrow