The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock by Imogen Hermes Gowar

Author:Imogen Hermes Gowar
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781911215721
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2018-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

TEN

December 1785

‘I do not understand why you have to go now,’ says Angelica, following Rockingham into the parlour. ‘It is so nearly Christmas. The entire Ton is only just arrived; everybody is here. There is so much fun to be had! So many parties!’ Well might she be wistful: this is the first season she has been in London for some years. There are new dances to learn, new faces to acquaint herself with; new amusements at every turn. And then she misses her old circle: the rupture between herself and Mrs Chappell is not mended, and Rockingham will not let her very near his own friends. It is my life with the duke all over again, she thinks crossly, and then knocks the thought from herself. It is not like that.

Now he says tersely, ‘I’ve no choice.’ He is dressed for the road, having received an unmannerly letter from his uncle summoning him in the most muscular of tones to appear before him. ‘Still I cannot think who has written at such length to him about my dealings with you,’ Rockingham says as he strides about in search of his watch – his handkerchief – his pocketbook. ‘Somebody has dripped poison in his ear.’

‘Who could wish us harm?’ says Angelica, only lately out of bed, with her curls in her cap and her wrap pulled tightly against the cold.

‘You are sure not one of your old beaux? Trying to get me off the scene?’

‘No, no!’ She follows him, and presses into him so the folds of his travelling cloak fall about her. He smells of wool and of horses, and of the pastries and parched meats that must accompany a long journey. Outside the sky is lowering and dark, and what little light survives it is lead grey and dismal.

‘Hmm.’ He rests his chin on the top of her head. ‘Well, ’tis a damnable nuisance. The old fool has been well and truly convinced that you are leading me astray, and yet it is I who must make it right. Who would write to him so?’

‘It must be one of his old friends in Parliament. Brr,’ she shivers, nestling closer and drawing her arms around his waist, ‘’tis colder than Greenland. How will I stay warm all alone in my bed?’

The thought of it inflames him; she permits him to press his hands over her waist and slide them up her ribcage to her breasts. ‘Confound it!’ he sighs. ‘I desire to leave you as little as you desire me gone – but this is the only way. In person I can convince my uncle of anything. Perhaps this is fortuitous; I shall persuade him to increase my allowance …’

‘… and we may take our own house?’

‘Yes, indeed.’ He kisses the tip of her nose.

‘At last!’ Her three Dean Street rooms are crammed with luxury of every sort. The curtains are heavy brocade, riotously worked with birds and flowers, with a great fringed pelmet overhanging, and her cabinet has

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