“Quite right,” Mr. Thorpe agreed. “You have to be sensible.”
Alma rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to them, Mr. Pilcrow. They’ve been blissfully married since the dawn of time, and they don’t understand some of us have to work a little harder.”
“Alma!”
“I think she makes an excellent point,” Titus said, largely to head off what felt like a well-established family disagreement. “I don’t know about meeting the best people; I can’t imagine they’d want to meet me. But Alma is right that it would be foolish to have all this opportunity, but to be so afraid of being cheated that I don’t do anything at all. That I don’t even try.”
“As long as you’re careful,” Mrs. Thorpe said.
“I’m more likely to be too careful than the other,” Titus assured her. “I’m not in the habit of recklessness.”
“Glad to hear it, sir,” Mr. Thorpe said. “With that said, had you considered a valet? All these new clothes, and going out—”
“I have thought of that, actually. I do need someone to give me a polish.” All three Thorpes nodded in unflatteringly strong agreement. “So I am to interview the Comte de La Motte’s valet. He needs to let the man go, and he recommends him highly.”
Mr. Thorpe’s brows went up. “The French gentleman’s man? Why’s that, sir?”
“Because he recommends him. You cannot fault the Comte’s appearance, surely.”
“No, I can’t,” Mr. Thorpe said. “I daresay there’s plenty of ladies who don’t, either. Well, Mrs. Thorpe—”
“Thorpe!” Mrs. Thorpe snapped.
“I need a valet, and he’s available,” Titus said. “And that reminds me.” He felt ludicrously embarrassed saying this.Your house, he told himself. “I have invited the Comte to stay with us for a while. He was looking for a new lodging, and this is an absurd house for one man. One upstairs, I mean.”
“Ooh!” Alma said, eyes brightening. Mrs. Thorpe’s lips pursed. Mr. Thorpe said, “The Comte, sir? Really?”
“He needs a place to stay for a while, and I have a great deal of room,” Titus said, a little annoyed at his urge to explain himself. He was sharing his space with a friend, as everybody did who could afford it. At least, they did in his former life. Maybe rich people didn’t share.
“Yes, sir. But—well, is this wise? Considering he had his eye on the mistress’s fortune…”
“She was making an arrangement with him, just as she made with me. What has that to say to anything?”
“The mistress believed the Comte to be a very sharp gentleman indeed. Adept at cutting a wheedle. And when he’s taking you shopping—”
Titus sighed. “Mr. Thorpe, do you think I’m a fool?”
“No, sir, but—”
“I daresay the Comte is out for what he can get, but I have had a very great deal of help from him that I could not find any other way. I’m sure he is taking me to shops where he has outstanding bills, but why should he not, if he ensures I receive good service and gives me good advice?If he can do that, and ease my way into Society, and keep out Matthew Laxton and the Ormskirks and their sort, all for the cost of board and lodging—wouldn’t you call that a bargain?”
Thorpe opened his mouth, failed to speak for a second, then shook his head. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Pilcrow: I forgot you were a shopkeeper. But, you know, there may be hidden costs.”
Titus nodded acknowledgement. “I truly don’t think I’m up to every rig and row. If you see me being lured into some scheme, please do mention it. But so far the Comte has been immensely helpful, and if this is a matter of—well, of hiring an assistant without giving it that name, I am happy to pay for the services I receive.”
“Don’t you think he’s your friend?” Alma said, with mildly excruciating sympathy.
Titus had to pause on that. Could a friendship not be a transactional thing? He’d had favourites among the artists who bought his paints. He’d dined with them, let accounts run to extraordinary sums for one or two, frequently accepted paintings in lieu of cash, and even housed a portraitist in his room for three weeks when she had nowhere else to go. He hadn’t felt exploited by those people: he’d chosen to share what he had.
He could afford to house Nico, and he was getting invaluable assistance and enjoyable company from the man. If that wasn’t a friendship, it certainly had a very similar shape to one. It was surely no more mercenary than any of the recent invitations he’d received to parties and teas, all of them addressed to an ambulatory eight thousand pounds a year who happened to be named Titus Pilcrow.
And God, the Comte was lovely.
“I like him very much,” he told Alma. “And I don’t thinkhe is planning to cheat me. Your father and I are just being careful.”
“Careful is as careful does,” Thorpe said. “But I daresay you will keep your wits about you.”
Titus thought of Nico’s glowing, dancing eyes, that wicked smile, the prospect of having him an arm’s reach away. “I’ll do my best.”