Chapter Twenty-One
Wick wished that he had better news to bring to Louisa and his sisters. In fact, he would have preferred to break the news of the conditions in her father’s will to only Louisa and Mantheria. But Becca, Helen and Frederica would not leave the room without bodily violence. And, while he was more than happy to wrestle Matthew, he wasn’t about to give his little sisters the same treatment. Especially since he knew that they fought with their fingernails.
Clearing his throat, he forced himself to look at Louisa. She was looking a little pale. There were shadows underneath her luminous green eyes. He wished the words that he was about to speak were better tidings.
‘My grandfather has procured a copy of your father’s will, Louisa, and he has been in touch with all three of your trustees.’
Becca clapped her hands. ‘I knew he could do it!’
Helen hushed her, and then Mantheria hushed them both.
Louisa’s gaze never left his face.
‘Unfortunately, the late Earl’s will specifically states that Louisa is not to have control of her mother’s fortune until her five-and-twentieth birthday or until she is—’
‘Married.’ Louisa finished the phrase for him.
‘What rot!’ Frederica said, grinding her teeth.
For once, Wick was entirely in agreement with his most wilful sister. But it didn’t change the facts.
‘My grandfather is certain he will be able to convince the trustees not to issue any more of Louisa’s yearly allowance to the Rockinghams. So at least they will no longer profit from their exploitation of her and treating her like a servant in her own home.’
Louisa leaned forward, and it was as if her eyes were devouring him whole. ‘And the money they’ve already taken from me?’
Sighing, he admitted, ‘It is lost. There was nothing in your father’s will to stipulate exactly how the yearly allowance for your maintenance should be spent by his brother and his wife.’
All his sisters were talking at once. Wick couldn’t follow all the conversations, but the expressions on his sisters’ faces were murderous.
He held up both of his hands. ‘Quiet!’
One by one his sisters stopped talking and looked at him.
‘I know that this is not the news any of us hoped for, but Grandfather and Matthew are still working on it. And if anyone can twist a situation to his advantage, it’s Matt. Now, we can stay here, arguing over what cannot be currently changed, or I can take you all for ices.’
His nephew Andrew had been playing in the corner of the room with his boat, but at the sound of the word ‘ices’ he dropped the wooden toy. ‘I would like an ice!’
‘I’ll call for Mantheria’s barouche,’ said Wick, eager to leave the room and no longer be followed by Louisa’s disappointed eyes.
All six of them squashed into the large carriage, and none of his little sisters argued on the way. A rare trip.
When they arrived at Gunter’s, Wick ordered Andrew’s raspberry ice first. Then ordered for all his sisters. He would have given Louisa the next choice, but she was still trying to decide on the flavour, and whether she wanted a sweet or a savoury one. Wick ordered both: one parmesan ice and one strawberry ice—his personal favourite.
They all sat down at a table in the centre of the room. Every eye was on them. His family drew attention wherever they went. They were infamously wealthy, and notorious for not caring about theton’s rules.
Andrew’s ice came first, and his nephew did not wait for the others to receive their own treats before he began spooning it into his mouth. Wick was the last to receive his strawberry ice, but he didn’t mind. He was enjoying himself watching Louisa.
‘Try the strawberry one first,’ he told her.
She dipped her spoon into the pink ice and took a very small bite. He watched her touch the spoon to her lips. How he burned to touch those lips with his fingers. His mouth. His tongue. Louisa licked her lips and her eyes were on his. She took another small bite, this time of the parmesan ice. Never before had Wick thought that the eating of an ice could be seductive. But it was when Louisa used both her lips and her tongue to take such a small bite off the spoon.
‘Why aren’t you eating, Uncle Wick?’ Andrew asked.
Wick had been so absorbed in watching Louisa that he had not started on his own ice. Feeling the blood rush to his face, he picked up his spoon and took a large cooling bite. The ice made his tongue cold, but the rest of his body was still on fire. Longing for Louisa. Wanting to kiss her over and over again.
Mantheria smiled with knowing eyes at both of them. ‘Louisa, what do you think of your first ices? Do you prefer sweet or savoury?’
Louisa lowered her eyes, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. ‘The sweet—but the parmesan is also nice, and an unexpected taste.’