Page 37 of A Much Maligned Miss

Caroline had gone extremely quiet, Gervaise noticed, as they waited in the hallway for Kenneth to fetch the kittens from the kitchen. James had run down the street to find a cab and Macey was helping Caroline on with her cloak. The old dodderer had nearly fallen over when he had heard they were married. He looked like he might cry now, seeing her thrown out of doors.

“Thank you so much,” she said brightly, and Macey bowed his head sorrowfully, retreating.

“The poor old thing,” she said under her breath. “I do believe he’s more upset than your uncle.”

“Macey has a very strong sense of family feeling. He was my grandfather’s butler before he was my uncle’s. No doubt it revolts his every feeling that we are expelled from the Langdon town residence into the cold night.”

She sent him a reproachful look. “It’s a shame he had to overhear you,” she whispered. “He’s been so needlessly upset over nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“Well, I am not Lady Atherton, so he need not be so put out on my account.”

Gervaise shrugged. “You may well end up having to marry me,” he said flippantly. “Our tale has become so tangled by this point.” Now why had he said that? He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Caroline scoffed. “I hardly think it will come to that, my lord. What do we do now?” she asked pragmatically. “Go to a hotel?”

He wondered if she would expect separate rooms. “No,” he ruminated. “No, I think we will toddle along to Gerwyn Street.”

“What’s at Gerwyn Street?”

“My palace.”

“I’m sorry, did you say palace?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s called The Citadel.”

“But I thought you had no residence.”

“It’s not a residence,” he corrected her. “It is my latest business venture. It opens in a month’s time.”

Caroline opened her mouth to form another question but at that point, Kenneth appeared carrying the cats. “Milady,” he intoned gravely, passing them over to her, not the easiest feat as Romulus sank his claws into the epaulettes on his frock coat.

“Thank you,” Caroline said once he had endeavored to detach himself. Remus immediately tried to scramble up onto her shoulder. “I think we may need to obtain some kind of basket for their transportation, you know.”

We, Gervaise noted with satisfaction. Had Miss Halperston accepted dual ownership of the cats with him? “I think some kind of harnesses with leashes might be more aesthetically pleasing,” he mused.

“Leashes? For cats?” She seemed surprised. “I have never heard of such a thing. In any case, I don’t think they would like that at all.”

“Don’t you think so?” She shook her head. “Ah, I think the cab is here.” Kenneth picked up the cases and they made their way down the steps. “Gerwyn Street,” he called up to the cabbie as soon as they were safely inside.

It only took about ten minutes to reach their destination, and as they approached, Gervaise found himself anticipating his first glimpse of the finished building. Last time he had seen The Citadel it had been a mere shell and a sheaf of architectural sketches. This time it would be a showy spectacle of a place, complete with columns and an ornate facade. “Come here,” he murmured, indicating the gin palace would be on his side of the road. “That way you will get the full effect.”

“Well, I can’t really get any closer,” Caroline pointed out, for the hansom cab was a two-seater and his luggage took up most of the floor. She also had a firm hold of both cats.

“Yes, you can,” he said, patting his lap. “You can take a seat right here.”

She spluttered faintly but rose from the seat and Gervaise guided her down into his lap until she perched herself gingerly there. Gervaise suddenly found himself more interested in the color rising to her cheeks than his first glimpse of The Citadel out of the window.

Caroline gasped. “Is that it?” she breathed, and he turned his head to spot the soaring frontage of the ostentatious building with its gables and domes and pedimented dormers standing out from the drabness of its fellow buildings like a diamond in the rough. “That is your palace? Gervaise, it is magnificent!”

He was somewhat taken aback to see it lit up against its fellow establishments like a glowing lamp in the darkness. He could only suppose Ralph must be trialing the new gas lamps, for they were not due to open for another three weeks. “It’s not solely mine, I own it jointly with a friend and fellow investor, Ralph Carstairs.”

“It looks so pretty, like a magic lantern,” Caroline marveled, practically pressing her nose against the glass.

He spared it another glance. “It’s all the bow windows giving that effect. It’s a lot of glass.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”