Page 76 of The Fortune Hunter’s Gamble

It was to be the muslin round gown with the silk robe over it, the one in Spanish green, as it was the grandest ensemble she had. This time, Sophronia wore the diamond aigrette. It was the costliest piece of jewelry she possessed, one Henry had given her for their tenth wedding anniversary.

He would have taken funds out of the bank to pay for such a gift, and yet the monies that had been withdrawn so regularly right before his death did not account for the purchase of a single piece of jewelry, even an expensive one. Sophronia contemplated this as the maid helped her dress for the evening. As the owner of a bank, it was convenient for Henry to use promissory notes, and he would have given one to the jeweler for the aigrette.

Moreover, Henry would have entered a separate record of the purchase elsewhere, so that the jeweler could not come to the bank with a claim beyond the value of the note. Henry was scrupulous about his money and determined not to be cheated out of a farthing. He would never have simply taken out large amounts with no accounting for their purpose, not even on his deathbed, after the apoplexy had left him a wreck of a man and Sophronia could not keep him from raving.

She suspected Rowden was right: Bint had helped himself to Henry’s money, as he had taken over Henry’s other possessions. Bint would have told himself he had the right, after so many years of faithful service, putting up with Henry’s tempers and spleen. He certainly would not care that these were the funds her husband had left to support Sophronia.

And so, she was going to the Albion to gamble, because Rowden had a plan to win her money back. Henry would be spinning circles in his grave if he knew Sophronia meant to play dice with his fortune. Henry could not bear to part with a shilling unless it was in fair exchange, and while he would take calculated risks on investments, he had a Puritan’s abhorrence of gaming.

“I most certainly wish I could accompany you tonight,” said Lily, watching the elaborate process of dressing Sophronia’s hair.

“The Baron would not like you visiting a gambling parlor, and you will wish to stay in his pocket now that he has approved your marriage. He has made quite a pet of you, my dear. I never expected he might show you approval, much less affection.”

“I am glad he condones the match.” Lily peeled off the silk gloves she had worn to dinner. “It relieves Giles’s mind considerably to know his father will not pose an obstruction.”

“And will continue to support you during your marriage,” Sophronia murmured. “He will be glad to have a mistress in Standen Park again. Aunt Dobbs never seems to be able to order things exactly as he likes them.”

“I’ve no doubt he’ll find fault with me in due time,” Lily replied. “But for now, he seems pleased that Giles will have marriage to steady him.”

Lily contemplated the silk of her gloves, limp forms without her flesh to animate them. “Do you not find it odd that a wife is held responsible for so much of her husband’s happiness? If he is absent, or unfaithful, or ill-tempered, it is her fault. But if a husband is content, it must be because his wife is properly steady and soothing, and looks to his comfort in all things. Every bit of her life is to be formed around him.”

Sophronia watched her young friend in the mirror of the dressing table where she sat. “And they say women are the weaker creatures, malleable and changeable,” she said. “When the concern is always that the men shall be well-cared for. But the bargain is for security and standing. The protection of his name and connections in the world.”

Lily lifted her face to meet Sophronia’s gaze in the mirror. “Did you find it a fair exchange?”

Sophronia opened a tin of lip rogue and dabbed on a bit of red. She rubbed her lips together to spread the color. “We should not take my marriage as an example, dear.”

When the maid finished and stepped back, crunching the small curls she had left to dangle beside Sophronia’s ears, Sophronia turned her head, but slowly, as the aigrette was heavy. “Are you having doubts about your marriage, Lily?”

The girl shook her head slightly. She was such a dear thing, very pretty, but there was a developing firmness there also. Lily was maturing into a woman before Sophronia’s eyes.

Sophronia had always wanted a daughter, better yet a handful of them. She was born to advise and guide girls. She would make such an excellent headmistress of a school.

If only she could contrive for Bint to give her the money that was hers.

“Not doubts,” Lily said. “I only think I am facing realities. The courtship is such a pleasant time. Giles endeavors in all things to please me. But when the vows are said, the wooing is over, is it not? I will be the prize that is already won, and I will become part of my husband’s property. Part of his person, under the law.”

“The laws men have made,” Sophronia agreed. “But I think Giles will be a congenial husband, and he will wish for your comfort and happiness. You should be able to arrange your household as you like and find your husband agreeable. That is my hope for you, at any rate.”

Lily lifted her chin with a brisk sniff, as if she were pushing an unwanted thought away. The gesture was so like one Sophronia herself habitually made that she almost laughed.

“And you, Sophronia,” Lily said. “Where will you live when you marry Rowden?”

“You minx.” Sophronia turned to search the dressing table for her own gloves. “I have no wish to marry again.”

“Rowden wishes to marry you.”

“Rowden wishes to have an affair. That is a far different arrangement than marriage.” Sophronia wondered if she should speak so to a virginal girl.

“Oh, my dear Mrs. Hinton,” Lily said, amused. “Rowden is so far under the bridge for you, we’ll never get him back.”

“You speak foolishness.” At a snort from the maid, Sophronia glanced at that direction. “Tell her, Sims.”

The maid shook her head. “I been in this house for three years now, since Mr. Rowden bought it. Working my way up from chambermaid to lady’s maid, I thankee, mum, but I been in other houses and here and about, and I never seen a man look at a lady the way he do you, mum.”

“This was the Baron’s house, I thought.”

“Oh, no, mum. Mr. Rowden bought the lease, soon as his stake in the Albion started paying off. Lets his lordship and Mr. Giles live here a’course, as they’s family. But he pays all of us wages and the rest.”