Page 10 of The Chef and the Countess (The Duke’s Bastards #2)

Liam traveled toward Doctor Drew’s residence. He needed to borrow the Hornsby family carriage to bring Celia’s trunks to the restaurant. He might as well collect them since he needed to journey to Shinwell’s estate to settle the debt. Why wait for the cousin to deliver them as he said he would? Liam did not trust Shinwell to hold up his end in any deal.

Fifteen minutes later, the hansom cab pulled up in front of Drew’s residence. Liam had never been here before. The white stucco town house was four stories high and had fancy, wrought-iron fences, trellises, and bay windows with an intricate stained-glass design.

Liam climbed out of the hansom and paid the driver.

He knocked on the door, and a small woman with an apron answered. “Aye? Who is it?”

“I’m here to see Doctor Hornsby. I’m Liam Hallahan.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “And do you have an appointment?”

“Let him in, Mrs. Evans. I know the man.” Drew stood in the hallway, waving him in.

He stepped across the threshold. Liam couldn’t help but gape at the black and white tile marble floors and the ornate crystal chandelier above.

“You’ll be wanting tea, I suppose,” Mrs. Evans grumbled.

“Liam?” Drew asked.

“No. Thank you,” he replied.

“We will see to ourselves, Mrs. Evans.”

Mrs. Evans gave Liam a suspicious glance, then, wiping her hands on her apron, headed toward the rear of the house.

“ That was Mrs. Evans, my cook-housekeeper and imperial guard. Come to my study.”

Liam followed Drew down the hall. “I can’t stay long. I hoped to ask a favor.”

Drew pointed toward the sofa, and Liam sat, taking in the lushness of the room—shelves of books filled one side of the wall, and a fire crackled in the hearth, making the elegant study cozy. Drew’s desk was solid oak with ornate scrollwork. This place reeked of money, inside and out.

As if reading his thoughts, Drew said, “My family has some money. I’m not ashamed of it. But I earn my way, as best as a doctor in free clinics will allow. That is why I am going over this list. I will rent the two stories above at the end of the month, and I have to pick a suitable tenant. One who will pay on time. Can I get you a drink?”

“It’s tempting, but I have my collecting duties this afternoon. You mentioned a few weeks ago that you have use of the Hornsby carriage until your family returns in the early spring.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I must go to Viscount Shinwell’s to collect a gaming debt and fetch Celia’s trunks. I can’t do that with a hansom cab. I know I’m asking a lot. Since we met, it seems all you’ve done is assist Mitchell or me. I appreciate it.”

Drew pushed his spectacles up his nose. “I do not mind. Not at all. I welcome this new twist to my life journey. The fact you are asking for my help tells me you are coming around to accepting the revelation of our blood ties.”

“I admit it hit me—hard. I was tempted to tell you and Mitchell to sod off, but in the end, I couldn’t do it.” It was quite the admission, but also the truth.

“I’m glad of it. Now, as to the carriage. My family has a four-seat Clarence with room at the rear for trunks and other luggage. Unfortunately, it’s not here, as I do not have the room to keep it, the horses, and the driver. But we can collect it at my family’s residence, which is not far away. Wright would welcome something to do.”

“I thought you had the family carriage here. I should have made the hansom wait,” Liam stated.

“We can catch another soon enough. They go by here at all hours. Is this part of your duties, collecting gaming debts?” Drew asked as he joined Liam on the sofa.

“No. When I took ownership, I carried over Walter Henning’s gaming rules. Most long-time customers pay, but two newer ones are in arrears. I no longer offer credit to those I don’t know. Even after doing thorough background checks like I did on these two, some men do not honor their debts promptly.”

“I have customers reimburse me with an up-front fee, especially if they are well off. The wealthy have a habit of running up debts and not paying them. It has been that way for decades, even centuries.” Drew hesitated. “To change the subject for a moment. When we first met, you said your mother told you who sired you. You never wanted to seek him out, even after your mother passed?”

Liam was not one for rehashing the past. But he supposed if he and Drew—and Mitchell, for that matter—were going to have any acquaintance or friendship, speaking of the past could hardly be avoided. He could growl and refuse to answer, but he had done that already. “No. He never came around but occasionally sent some bully with a handful of coins. It was never enough for us to live on, not long-term.” Liam paused, his insides contracting in pain as they often did when thinking of his impoverished childhood.

“I never believed my father was a duke,” Liam continued. “I thought it was the muscular, twitching rat bringing the coin. As my mother became sicker, the duke’s man offered to take me off her hands—for a price. She kept refusing. When she did pass away, I wasn’t sticking around to find out what the rat wanted me for. I did a runner.”

“I believe I have an idea,” Drew said gravely. “The previous Duke of Chellenham had a scheme where he sold children—his own included—to people needing or wanting them. Apprenticeships, as a son or daughter, or cheap labor. He made a tidy profit over the years, especially when he brought in like-minded men of means wishing to be rid of their—”

“By-blows? Whoresons? Bastards?” Liam offered softly.

“Yes. According to Damon Cranston, the new duke, Chellenham was a cold, cruel man with no honor and no love in his heart. He believed in eugenics. Do you know what that is?”

“I read about it in one of the papers. Procreating for the express purpose of improving the quality of the human population? Why would he do that?”

“Hubris. Arrogance and egocentricity. A belief that his physical attributes were superior and that perfection should be passed on. No wonder my mother moved us constantly and changed our names to hide from him. She was terrified,” Drew replied solemnly.

“Jaysus,” Liam murmured.

“As far as I can tell, having met you, Mitchell, Damon, and Olivia, none of us have the worst of his personality traits, not deep down where it counts. I have only just met the four young siblings Damon is taking in, and they seem to be well-behaved.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “And they’re good-looking, I suppose?”

“Yes. At least outwardly. An older girl at the home was recently reunited with her mother. She had black hair like you. Not all of the progeny are blond. But most seem to be. I hope they are good inside as well. Will you meet the young ones and Damon?”

Liam frowned. “I don’t know, at some point. It feels—strange. You say there is a half-sister too, this Olivia you speak of?” Drew nodded. “Let me get used to you and Mitchell first and come to terms with this situation before meeting anyone else.”

“Fair enough. Though I welcome it, I am still trying to understand it. My Hornsby family has been very supportive.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I am. The thing of it is, now you have Mitchell and me.”

Liam nodded. An odd lump formed in his throat, along with a surge of emotion, which made it difficult for him to reply. He wasn’t used to having such a decided emotional response concerning other people. It was bloody confusing and concerning. Celia was also causing him to have emotional reactions. She touched him, more than he cared to admit.

“Now, let’s go on your errand. Would you mind if I came? It never hurts to have witnesses when collecting debts,” Drew said in a wry tone.

“Not at all. I’d appreciate it.”

Drew gathered his coat, hat, and gloves, and they caught a hansom to the Hornsby residence in Mayfair. This peerage home was all brick with wrought iron balconies. As Drew had said, the family had money. This residence looked as if a duke lived there. Liam removed his peaked cap as they entered the front hallway, even more fancy than Drew’s.

“Good morning, Taylor. Is Wright about? I need the carriage.”

“Good morning, Doctor,” the butler replied respectfully. “I will fetch him for you. In his most recent letter, the duke mentioned that if you came by, I should show you some items you may wish for your residence or if you do not want them, you may donate to charity. They are in the study in the far corner.”

“Thank you, Taylor. We will find our way.”

Liam followed Drew down the hall into the study. “Perhaps you can use some of these items in your various establishments,” Drew said. It was a massive room filled with bookcases to the high ceiling and a sliding ladder to reach the top shelves. Dark wood panel walls and gold draperies gave the room an opulent look. Liam had never seen so many books.

“Here we are,” Drew said. “A painting of a serene country lake with a cottage. Do you think Lady Celia would like it for her room?”

“Aye, she would. That table. Is it for ladies?” Liam pointed.

“Yes, a vanity with a stool. It’s not very large, but it would fit in the room.”

“And those bed tables. If you don’t mind, I’d like them for the lads’ room.”

“Let’s take it all. Ah, Wright. There you are. We need your services and the carriage. This is Mr. Hallahan.” Mr. Wright, the coachman, touched his forelock in reply. “Fetch some footmen, and we will load all this on or inside the Clarence. Then we need you to take us to a couple of addresses, one to collect two trunks.”

“Yes, Doctor. Shall I bring a footman to assist with the trunks?” Wright asked.

“Capital idea. We had best be off.”

After the conveyance was packed, they departed. The coach pulled up in front of Elliot Hartright’s residence, and Liam exited and pounded on the doorknocker.

“Oh, Hallahan,” Hartright exhaled as he opened the door wider. “I can guess why you are here.” Hartright worked in a bank, as an officer, or whatever. He was not prosperous, but neither was the man underprivileged. Liam guessed he owed more than he made in a year. Collecting the total amount today was probably not possible.

“I’m here to collect your debt.”

“I surmised,” Hartright replied contritely. “One hundred fifty pounds, correct?”

“One hundred and seventy-eight, to be exact. And I haven’t charged you interest—yet.”

“I have 55 pounds to give you. As for the rest--” Hartright rubbed his chin. “I have to go to my father-in-law. That won’t be a pleasant prospect, what?” Hartright reached into his trousers’ pocket and passed Liam the folded pound notes.

Liam quickly counted the bills and stuffed them in his wool coat pocket. “One hundred and twenty-three are still owing. Payment is required in one week. I will be sending Bruce to collect. Have you seen Bruce in the pub? He’s larger than me, an ex-boxer. You will want to make sure you have the payment.”

“I say, there is no need to threaten me,” Hartright said aghast.

“This is merely a statement of fact. Until you pay in full, you’re banned. If you don’t have the full amount next week, I will start charging twenty percent interest. When you pay, you may return, but there will be no more credit. You will have to play within your means.” Liam wasn’t threatening or aggressive; he just laid the information out straightforwardly. “Understand?”

“Yes, I understand. I will try to have the rest next Sunday.”

Liam nodded, returned to the coach, and climbed in.

“Success?” Drew asked.

“Partial payment. It will assist with the free meal program.” Liam thumped on the roof, and the carriage moved forward. Wright already had the next address. And Liam was not looking forward to this collection.

“Speaking of your meal program, I recently spoke to Damon and his club, The Rakes of St. Regent’s Park. They agreed to offer you a monthly stipend of fifteen pounds. They ask that you set up a separate account for the venture so they can monitor the progress. A daily count of those fed is also required. Any medical supplies I need to treat them every Thursday will also come from that account. A monthly review will be done; if you need more, they can provide it. Do you agree? There is one request: they would like you to present your first month’s results. The meeting is on Thursday, February 17 th at 7 pm.”

Liam frowned. These toffs always had a catch, but he understood the need for accountability. “For fifteen pounds a month, I’ll do an Irish jig for them.”

Drew chuckled. “That will not be necessary, however entertaining it might be. They have asked that the name you place on the account be ‘The Hallahan Initiative’ with your name as chief officer and mine as a medical officer. If it all goes well, they can solicit donations on your behalf. More meat and vegetables in the pot means a healthier population. We can expand to provide proper clothes and blankets. Perhaps a few volunteers to free up your staff. But one step at a time.”

“You are quite the force of nature,” Liam stated, duly impressed.

“I was raised in a family that believed in doing good works. I have seen and experienced how unfortunate people live, and I do what I can to lessen their misery. I also have recently come to understand that I cannot assist everyone. My Uncle Harrison is the Duke of Gransford. While a marquess, he toiled anonymously in an abandoned underground train tunnel in Stepney, offering medical care to the homeless and those who could not afford a doctor. He nearly worked himself into an early grave. That will not be me.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “Doctor Damian was your duke uncle?”

Drew’s mouth dropped open. Then he swiftly closed it. “You’ve heard of him? How astounding.”

Liam nodded. “It was too late for my mother. I think we saw him in ‘80. I was eleven or twelve. My mother barely made it to see him. Doctor Damian kept her for four days, comforted her, and fed her hot soup and tea. When I returned, he took me aside and said I had to be strong, that my mother was very sick and wouldn’t recover. He gave me a choice: my mother could die in the workhouse infirmary or at home. We lived in two rooms in a filthy place but kept our living area tidy and comfortable. I chose home.” Liam’s mouth quirked with amusement. “I think your uncle thought me much older because I was already tall for my age. Anyway, he gave me a packet of willow bark powder, and I cared for Mother for the next two weeks until she passed.”

“That would be hard for anyone to deal with. I understand the impact of losing a mother at a young age. That must have been difficult,” Drew said empathically.

Drew had no idea—or maybe he did. Liam wasn’t going to discuss it now, for he had already revealed more than he’d intended. It was best to change the subject. “It’s wise to adopt the ‘not going to work yourself to death’ theory. It’s something I should follow. Ah, here we are.”

“Good luck,” Drew offered. “Call out if you need me.”

Liam climbed down from the conveyance and stared at the house. It was not as majestic as the Hornsby residences but showed a modicum of wealth. He banged the brass knocker, and a man with gray at his temples opened the door.

“The butler, I presume?” Liam questioned.

“I am Baldwin, sir.”

“Is Viscount Shinwell about?”

“He is not receiving, sir.”

“Of course not. He’s still asleep since it’s noon. Then, you can assist with another inquiry. I’m here to take Lady Celia’s trunks. Shinwell deserted her at my place of business, and the dowager countess wants her belongings. She’s about this tall,” Liam said, placing his outstretched hand below his shoulder. “With golden brown hair and blue eyes, she has a cheerful disposition, though I don’t know why, considering how she’s been treated.”

Baldwin opened the door wider to allow Liam to step across the threshold, but he held his hand up to stop him from coming further. “I am glad to hear the countess is safe. I will have her trunks brought down immediately.” Baldwin snapped his fingers, and two tall footmen appeared seemingly out of thin air. “Fetch the trunks from the attic bedroom.”

Attic? What miserable bastards, sticking her up there.

The footmen swiftly ascended the stairs. Liam leaned in and whispered, “Do you know where her Aunt Etta is? An address?”

“No, sir,” Baldwin murmured. “But I will venture to discover it.”

“Good man.” Liam reached into his pocket and held out his card. “My name and the address of my business in Spitalfields. Send word when you can.”

“Baldwin!” a slurred voice yelled from the top of the stairs. “Whom are you speaking to?”

Baldwin quickly palmed the card. “Someone to see you, my lord. He is most insistent.”

Shinwell descended the stairs and stood before Liam. He wore a dressing gown over his bare chest with matching silk trousers. He looked disheveled and bloated—no doubt from all the imbibing the night before. “You! You have got a nerve. Sod off.”

Such class. “I’m here to collect your gaming debt. You owe 240 pounds.”

“I paid that, and you know it.”

“Do you know how long your countess cousin would have to work to pay off that kind of debt? It would take over five years, not including the interest. I told you when you unceremoniously dumped her at my feet that I would not agree to such a heartless, cruel, and, may I add, illegal scheme.”

Baldwin gasped, then quickly arranged his shocked features into a neutral look.

“I will not pay. Get out of my house,” Shinwell said dismissively.

“Bruce will be by next Sunday. You’ve seen him at the pub? He’s an ex-boxer. He knows how to collect a debt—if not from you, then from your toff father.”

“How dare you threaten me?” Shinwell screeched. Four footmen came down the stairs carrying the trunks. “Put those down immediately!”

Baldwin shook his head, and the footmen continued out the door towards the carriage.

“Where is your father?” Liam questioned.

“He is not here,” Shinwell said, sniffing haughtily.

Baldwin slightly inclined his head as if to agree with the statement.

“Tell the earl I wished to see him regarding this debt and his niece. It would be to his benefit to arrange a meeting. I can come by next Sunday.” Liam looked to Baldwin. “Will you see he gets that message?”

“I will, sir. I relay all messages to his lordship.”

“We will not pay,” Shinwell shrieked. “Get that through your thick Irish skull. Who cares if it takes five years to work off the debt? My bitch of a cousin has nothing else to do or anywhere to go.”

Liam crossed the floor and grabbed a fistful of Shinwell’s rumpled dressing gown. “Don’t ever call her that. Follow me? Or I’ll give you the beating you deserve. It’s long overdue, I’ll wager.” Liam released him and pushed him away. Nodding to the butler, Liam departed. Drew and Wright busily secured the trunks. He could hear Shinwell raging, yelling epithets that would curl a sailor’s hair.

As they pulled away from the residence, Liam wondered if he had just made things worse. So much for his plan of not losing his temper. And he had one, enhanced by the injustice he had witnessed every day since he was a child. It took all his well-earned discipline to keep himself in check, for he could not abide anyone being mistreated. When Shinwell called Celia that name, fury tore through him. No one would ever disparage Celia in his presence.

No one.