Page 50 of Dick Stone, Regency Stud
The Regency Stud's Hard Bargain
Elizabeth Roubaix
Chapter 1
London, 1819
Lord Edward Richard Stone admired the sketch he’d been working on between glimpses at the afternoon gazettes.
“Why’s only the front half of that animal drawn right?”
Edward looked up with a start, still not used to sudden noises after his eventful service during the Peninsular War.
It was Tobias, his sometimes errand boy and constant, well,frienddespite their vastly unequal status, at least at the time of their births. Edward might keep his courtesy title of “Lord” on account of being the second son of a marquess, but he and the urchin weren’t so very different these days.
“Didn’t learn how to draw a horse’s arse. My father was furious when he discovered me and my older brother portraying...well…weweremaking lewd sketches, and our drawing master got shown the door. Always suspected my father simply didn’t want to pay his bill.”
“Your da was broke, too?” asked Tobias, sinking onto his scuffed stool in front of Edward’s desk.
“Just a skinflint,” said Edward, trying to shade the horse’s tail but mostly drawing what resembled a pile of sticks. “Probably rejoiced the day I disgraced myself in the army. It was a good excuse to cut off my allowance.”
Should you be wondering why a noble sat sketching at the back of a barber shop, waiting for clients, that was the story in a nutshell: Lord Edward was a complete disgrace to his family and left without support.
Well, save one means of support. One part of him was very supportive indeed. Between his appendage’s rather unique ability to suss out truth and fiction (the mechanics were somewhat hazy even to him) and his success at impregnating the wives of the elite, Lord Edward had transformed in recent years intoDick Stone, stud for hire.
“What’s next to that animal?” asked Tobias, casting a dubious glance at the paper.
“Next to Tencendor?”
“You mean you’re drawing your horse?” asked Tobias, smothering a laugh. “That’s supposed to be…”
“Now, see here,” protested Edward, suddenly feeling the urge to defend his artistic skills, “my drawing master spent most of his time romancing my mother’s companion.”
“Companion?” asked Tobias, wrinkling his nose.
“Like a friend.”
“Why not call this person your mother’s friend?”
Edward paused, thinking about it.
“Mrs. Vavasour received food and clothes from us. And she assisted my mother with certain tasks. Menus and the like.”
“Am I your companion?” asked Tobias. “I tell you what’s on offer outside.”
Lord Edward stopped sketching. He needed to think about this because the boy from the streets wasn’t entirely off the mark, but he wasn’t exactly right either.
“Well, Mrs. Vavasour had an official position within the household,” he started.
“What was it?”
“Lady’s companion.”
“Oh, so only ladies have companions.” Tobias drank from his inappropriately ornate silver flask, likely water. Edward could never understand why he drank the stuff.
“Well, yes. I mean, gentlemen have official associates, too, but they’re not usually called companions. And it’s different.”
Tobias stared at the drawing. “Seems silly only ladies have companions,” he said to himself.
