Free After The Storm by Claudy Conn

demanded, throwing his
hands up.
    “This—that whatever it is that has begun, our Jenny
seems to be going with her instincts, and it will do, I think.”
    “I … damnation , Beth,” started Jenny’s
father sadly. “The devil is in it that I can’t resign myself to
it.”
    “Dearest brother, our Jenny has always had her head
squarely on her shoulders. She has always known what would work for
her, right or wrong— she knows . I expect she thinks she has
good reasons for this oddly hurried marriage, and I also believe it
will all work out in the end.”
    “Do you, Beth? Well, I suppose, but …” her
brother offered.
    “And by the by, I met the earl just as he was leaving
and asked him to dinner. He was very happy to accept my
invitation.”
    “’Pon rep, Beth!” exclaimed her brother. “You amaze
me—is there nothing you cannot arrange or manage?”
    “Yes, Alfred,” she said with a twinkle. “The marriage
settlement. I do think it would be better if you discussed this
matter after we dined, though I expect his lordship will think it
proper to discuss this immediately after he returns to us.”
    “Quite right. Perhaps they may change their minds at
dinner about his entire fandangle,” the squire said hopefully.
    His sister laughed. “I do not see why a good dinner
should do anything to alter their decision, Alfred.”
    * * *
    The Earl of Danfield tooled his horse through the
fermentation of clanking wheels, shouting street peddlers, and
crying beggars reaching with their eyes as well as their hands. He
paused momentarily and threw his purse to the beggars.
    It was already past noon, and London’s heart beat
painfully to the throb of life as his gaze swept past these
ordinary scenes and his ears half shut out the noise. He paused in
his progress once more at the sight of a street urchin whose feet
were both bare and bleeding. This caught his attention and made
something in his chest ache. Once again, he reached into his pocket
and threw the child a hefty coin.
    The boy cried something incoherent and caught the
money to hurriedly scramble away. The earl felt a sense of
helplessness and guilt when he came across such children. He
watched the child try to avoid an adult bent on stealing from him;
he smiled to see the lad scurry between the scoundrel’s legs and
hurry on to safety.
    The scent of poor sewage and horse manure receded as
the poorer quarters of London were left behind. Just as the scent
improved, so did the appearance of the homes, taking on first a
respectable and then an elegant semblance.
    Duke Street was reached at last, and the earl
dismounted in front of his lodgings. He was in a quandary of
conflicting emotions, but he pulled himself together, tied the
reins of his horse to the hitching post, and mounted the steps to
his front door. There he was met by his butler, an estimable
individual of mature years.
    “Good afternoon, my lord,” Dobbs said as he took the
earl’s hat, gloves, and greatcoat.
    “Yes, it is, Dobbs. Would you have my horse taken to
the stables and my phaeton prepared and brought by my tiger in one
hour? I want a hot bath and shall be in the library. Call me when
it is ready, and, Dobbs, as always, thank you.”
    “Very good, sir,” replied his butler, allowing the
earl a twinkle as he took the liberty of years in his service and
asked, “I take it all went well, my lord?”
    “Very well, Dobbs, very well, indeed,” was all the
earl meant to say at that moment as he made his way into his
library.
    The earl’s gaze swept the room and noted it had been
maintained as he had left it. One could not detect that each and
every piece of furniture had received daily care and dusting, so
accurately had each been returned to its place.
    Ah well, the earl suddenly thought depressingly, with
a woman about, all that would surely change. She will want to
rearrange the furniture … among countless other womanly
oddities.
    He situated himself behind the Regency desk he