"Then can I surmise that he informed you why I am here?"
"Yes, yes. You are to be commended to take such care of your brother. Come, sit. I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."
Genie did not like the way he said that word. She did not like this man at all and ventured no further into the room. "Please state your terms, Mr … "
"Candyman is what you may call me, missy. I see you are one to get down to business. No chitchat for you today, eh, missy?" His tone was not as friendly as his words and she could not like the way he rubbed his hands together.
Genie said nothing and waited. He wanted her here for a reason, and she was certain he would get to it sooner without her help.
"Yes, well, terms. It is a grievous amount of blunt your brother lost. Grievous indeed."
"Twelve thousand pounds. What are you terms?"
"Well, now, if I be giving you such a large sum of money, what's to say you will be able to pay me back? Tell me, Miss Talbot, how you intend to repay me?"
"I have some pin money I receive every week-"
"Miss Talbot! Pin money? We are speaking of twelve thousand pounds, my dear. Not even the pin money for the royal princess would be enough to repay that amount."
"So you will not lend me the money?"
"Now, now, let's not get too hasty. I see you are upset. Poor dear. Now, let me see if I can be of help. Maybe instead of money, you can pay me in service."
Genie stiffened. There was a limit to what she would do for her brother. "I am a respectable lady."
"You haven't even heard my proposal. And my but you do make some interesting assumptions. I'm not talking of that sort of arrangement, though I will say you could make a pretty penny on your back. But women, they always have it easy, just lie back and do nothing for their supper, but don't they complain about it, like you actually asked them to work."
Genie took a step backward at that pretty speech. She should not have come.
"What I want from you is a piece of paper. That's all," said the Candyman, his voice dropping even lower.
"A piece of paper?" Genie wished she could see this man, but he kept to the shadow, the hat brim concealing his features.
"See now, not so bad, not so bad. One letter is all I ask for twelve thousand pounds. You won't get better odds. You bring me the letter, and I'll pay your debt."
"Why? What letter?"
"You needn't be so nosy. You bring me the letter; I pay the debt. Do we have a deal?"
"What letter?" Genie repeated.
"In the study of the Duke of Marchford is a safe behind a picture frame. Inside the safe is a letter with a red seal. Bring it to me and all your problems are answered."
"I could not steal from the duke." She could not, could she?
"Such a little thing to ask for the life of your brother," said the Candyman in a soft low voice.
"My brother's life?"
"He will be ruined if he cannot pay a debt of honor. Only one thing left to do but to take a swim in the Thames."
"No!"
"Well now, missy, what did you expect? Only honorable thing to do if you have no hope to pay your debts, and so I told him."
"Am I to understand that you recommended my brother take his own life?" Genie swallowed hard on the lump lodged in her throat. Her stomach tightened into granite.
"Didn't recommend anything. Just saying, in certain circumstances, it is the only respectable thing to do. He asked for a loan but there was nothing he could do for me. Not like you. There is a way you can pay the debt."
"He is an impressionable young man, you have no business recommending suicide."
"There now, don't take a pet. It will all be right as rain when you bring me the letter."
"I will do no such thing."
"Remember now, it has a red seal. When you get it, bring it to the Thorn and Thistle on Salt Street."
"Not here?"
"Not here."
"When should I meet you?"
"Go to the Thorn and Thistle and say you are looking for the Candyman. They'll find me. Mind you, do not give it to anyone else. And come alone. Don't bring your driver next time."
"I cannot possibly go to a public house unchaperoned in London."
"Don't you worry. You won't be alone for long." His tone made her wish she were a lad, so she could knock him senseless. Genie blinked at the sudden violent turn her thoughts had taken. It was the second time in one day that she had wished to do harm to another person.
"I simply cannot steal and go to a public house. I cannot." Yet even as she said it, she doubted herself. What if this was the only way?
"It's your choice, of course. This key will open the safe."
Genie stared at the key he held out to her for a long moment. The man's hand was thrust out into the light from the doorway, revealing ugly red scars. She was loathe to touch anything those hands had come into contact with until she realized the scars were severe burns, not a contagion.
"'Tis your brother, deary," said the Candyman. "Only you can know what his life is worth."
Genie took the key.
"That's a good girl."
But Genie left the strange shop feeling anything but good.
Twenty-nine
Dinner had not gone well. Lady Bremerton refused to talk, Louisa never spoke as a rule, and Genie had nothing to say. The absence of female chatter created a vacuum, which her uncle surprised the company by being willing to fill. Despite the unpleasantness of the afternoon caused by a minor revolt led by the two young ladies, Lord Bremerton was in fine fettle for having taken command of his ship.
He spoke first of the weather, then of the war, and then, as if the pump had been primed, of his friend Robby, who had been a general in a war before Genie had been born. Lord Bremerton told anyone who would listen, which at the silent table was everyone, that Robby was planning on visiting London and had promised to come to the engagement ball for Louisa.
Genie kept her eyes on her meal and ignored her uncle's speech. She had less than twelve hours to find a solution for her brother. His mood had been despondent this morning. If he came back tomorrow morning and Genie could not provide him with good news, he might give up hope entirely. She needed to do something.
She considered her visit to the chocolate shop. He wanted her to steal for him, to steal sensitive documents. She may be naive, but she was not so stupid as to think stealing documents from the duke's study would be a good plan. No, that option was definitely out.
There must be another way. Genie considered the problem, turning it around in her mind, searching for answers and solutions. She retired early to her room as did the other ladies; no one seemed in the mood to hear another war story featuring her suddenly loquacious uncle and Robby.
Out her bedroom window, through the bushy branches of spring, a light was on in the Grant household. Grant. He had made an offer too. His offer was not one she would usually contemplate. It would break her mother's heart if she became a … a … she was not even sure of the right word.
Yet her mother's heart would break even more if she learned her baby boy drowned himself in the Thames over a gambling debt. Genie would be ruined-unfit for London society, unfit for country society. But this was hardly news since she had doomed herself from the beginning with her disastrous debut. She had hoped with her presence at Almack's her reputation could be restored, but now that she had so abused Mr. Blakely, she could not hope for another offer anytime soon.
Did Mr. Grant not say he would spoil her? Lavish gifts upon her? Her first request would be to discharge her brother's gambling debts. Unlike Mr. Blakely, in whose character she had been so mistaken, she knew in her heart Grant would be generous. He would protect her brother.
She would do it. Tomorrow, she would write Mr. Grant and tell him she had decided to accept his proposal. Except tomorrow, tomorrow would be too late. Her brother would return early, and she must have good news for him or goodness knows what he would do.
The light in the far window beckoned her. Grant was there. He was awake. Could she go now? She shook her head. She couldn't go traipsing through the gardens to a man's house wearing nothing but a night rail. What kind of a hoyden was she? It was not proper!
Genie laughed at herself. Of course it was not proper. That was the whole point of what she was going to do. She was going to get improper-sinfully, wretchedly, utterly improper.
Genie put on a pair of slippers and chose a gauzy wrap that was more seduction than protection. Time to be seduced, and she couldn't wait to start. She tiptoed down the hall and descended the stairs to the garden entrance. Her skin was alive, tingling.
At the door she stopped. Was she truly going to do this? Leave her life? Leave her family? Go to Grant? No, no she could not. She was a good girl. Her mother would be heartbroken. Genie would be lost to her entire family.