Free If Wishes Were Earls by Elizabeth Boyle Page B

out.”
    “Your mother wants to pay your debts?”
    The man’s brow furrowed and he leaned in. “No. And I prefer that she doesn’t hear of them either. She can be rather difficult over such things.”
    Roxley pasted a sincere expression of concern on his face and nodded his agreement. There were times like these when it was rather convenient to have been orphaned at a young age. No parents to fuss and worry over one’s indiscretions.
    Though he did have his aunts . . .
    Speaking of which . . . Poggs’s next words couldn’t have surprised him more. “I must warn you, Roxley. It is a personal matter.” The man lowered his voice and leaned closer still. “About your aunt.”
    Roxley reeled back. What the devil? More tales of Essex and her swain? He’d put an end to this affair if only so he wouldn’t have to be bedeviled by the gossip. “Yes, yes, I know all about that.”
    “You do?”
    “Yes. Lady Gudgeon was just filling my ear with dire tales of—”
    “Lady Oriel,” Poggs said, nodding in agreement. “Then again, it might be Lady Ophelia. Devilishly tricky to tell the two of them apart.”
    “Lady Oriel?” Roxley shook his head. “No, you must mean Lady Essex. My God, this Whenby fellow gets around if he’s romancing Aunt Essex and Aunt Oriel.”
    “Whenby?” Poggs squinted. “Never heard of him. But you will want to hear this. My mother wrote that she was seen .” The baron’s bushy brows rose noticeably.
    “Seen? Whatever the devil does that mean? I don’t think she’s ever been invisible, so I would assume she’s always been ‘seen.’ ”
    “No, no. You don’t understand,” Poggs hurried to say. “She was seen .” Then he nudged Roxley with his elbow as if that made the entire puddle of mud crystal-clear.
    The earl threw up his hands. “Poggs, do get to the point.”
    “I thought I was. My dear Roxley, my mother wrote to me that I must carry word to you that your Aunt Oriel was seen in a rather high flyer of a phaeton, not even a sennight ago.” Poggs’s toady chest puffed out until it appeared that his buttons would pop.
    “Lady Oriel, you say?”
    “Yes, that’s right.”
    “And this was cause for alarm? Scandal enough for your mother to put pen to paper?”
    “Of course. Now I hope you don’t think ill of me for carrying such a tale—”
    “My dear Poggs, once you’ve repaid me what you owe me, I shall most likely forget your very existence.”
    “That would be overly kind of you, my lord,” the fellow agreed rather too hastily. That is until the words slowly sank in. “No, no, Roxley. You haven’t got the entirety of it. Your aunt was seen .” When Roxley continued to gape at him, the man took another deep breath and continued, “Your aunt was seen in a phaeton. A rather fast one. If you know what I mean.”
    “Yes, Poggs, I know what a phaeton is. I’ve seen one. Hell, I own two.” Owned, rather.
    The man nodded happily. “Then we are in agreement that this is a most disagreeable business.”
    “You mean disagreeable in the fact that I am having a devil of a time getting my hundred pounds?”
    “No longer, sir,” Poggs replied, for some unfathomable reason appearing quite indignant over the mention of his debt. “You must see that! I’ve done the honorable thing and warned you.”
    “Warned me? About what?”
    “About your aunt.”
    “Yes, yes. In a phaeton.
    “Yes, exactly,” Poggs replied happily.
    If only Roxley could share his elation. “What the devil do I care about my Aunt Oriel riding about in a phaeton?”
    “Care? Why, you should be outraged! I would be if my dear aunt was lingering in the company of Sir Bartholomew Keswick!”
    “Sir Bartholomew?” Roxley huffed. “Him?”
    He was most assured now that Poggs had been drinking. He hated to tell the man but Sir Bartholomew Keswick was a figment of his aunt’s overly wrought imagination.
    Poggs grew even more exasperated by Roxley’s lack of dismay. “My lord! Your aunt’s