“You sounded quite impressed with him when you spoke of him yesterday,” Emma commented, remembering their discussion over dinner.
“That’s because I am. And not just because he’s Hannah’s son,” Graham replied. “There’s something about him...” He gave his head a shake. “Well, let’s just say he’s sixteen going on six-and-thirty.”
“He’s an heir to an earldom now,” Thomas commented, “so his maturity will suit him well for that task.”
“Indeed,” Graham agreed.
“So, are you of the opinion Sinclair can run the Boston office if it expands even more than it already has?” Thomas asked.
Graham nodded. “Oh, yes. He’s got a head for business and the connections necessary to make it work, especially now that he has recently married a gel from an influential family.”
“We offer him a large number of shares—”
“But not all at once,” Emma interrupted. “He gets more after every... say five years. To ensure he’s vested in the company,” she explained.
“All right,” Graham agreed. “That means we have to keep some back.”
“And the rest we sell to those who wish to invest.”
“Lord Weatherstone and Edward Harrington.”
“I’ll get to work on the valuation,” Emma said as she turned to head back to her office. “In the event Weatherstone asks about it tomorrow at the ball.”
Graham gave a start. “You’re going to the ball?” he asked in surprise.
“We are,” Thomas replied.
“Even though I have nothing to wear,” Emma called out from her office.
Thomas leaned back in his chair, his gaze on the new painting. “I think you should wear exactly what you’re wearing in the painting,” he called out.
Noting his father’s attention was directed at the wall behind him, Graham turned and took a step back. “Well, that’s certainly larger than it looked in the parlor,” he said in surprise.
“That was my thought, too,” Thomas agreed. He angled his head to one side. “Tell me. What did you think of Miss Overby? I understand you spent some time in her company.”
“In her father’s coach, yes,” Graham admitted as his brows waggled. “Cousin Laura is a fine young woman. Very accomplished for her age, I think. Reminds me a bit of Edward in that regard.” He hadn’t even realized he used the young man’s given name until he noticed his father staring at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Thomas said as he gave his head a shake. “But you mentioned you’ll be at the ball tomorrow night.”
“I will. That’s where I’ll be announcing my intention to marry Hannah.”
“You have appropriate clothes?”
Graham nodded. “I paid a call on a tailor’s shop in New Bond Street.”
“Garth’s?” Thomas guessed.
“Yes. Besides the trousers and topcoat, he had the perfect waistcoat. A turtle green brocade. Fit perfectly.”
“Turtle green?” Thomas repeated.
A slow smile spread over Graham’s face. “Indeed. And I’m wearing it tonight as well.”
Chapter 26
A Discussion of Utmost Import in the Park
Meanwhile, back in Hyde Park
Henry thought Laura’s question and her comments leading up to it were the perfect opening for him to put voice to every concern he had been struggling with for the past month. Concerns about his new position at the bank, about his aged parents and his lack of a wife, about Hannah and her need for a husband. His nephew and the responsibilities he would face as heir to the Mayfield earldom.
The words were about to tumble forth, beginning with his thoughts on the situation at the bank, when he noticed how Laura was regarding him.
With true concern. Her queries hadn’t been made in the interest of keeping up her end of the conversation. The look in her eyes was evidence of her want to know. Her want to offer answers.
Her desire.
Henry blinked. Perhaps her eyes merely reflected what he knew was in his own.
At that moment, there was only one way to discover if she truly felt for him what he had gleaned from her words.
Lowering his face to hers, he captured her lips with his own and kissed her. When she made no move other than to lean toward him and lift herself onto her toes, Henry deepened the kiss.
The faintest scent of jasmine surrounded them. She tasted of honey. When her gloved hand rested on his shoulder, as if she needed to keep herself upright lest she fall against the front of him, he wrapped an arm around her waist.
Perhaps it was because he pulled her closer, or perhaps it was because his lips left hers to travel along her jawline to her neck, but her whispered, “Henrí” had him pausing, his lips still suckling her soft skin.
“Are you going to kidnap me?”
Henry jerked back, blinking to discover Laura staring at him despite the glaze of desire over her eyes. “I hadn’t planned to,” he whispered, wondering why she would ask such a thing. “Unless you think it necessary that I do so?”
Laura blinked several times before she lowered her feet to the ground. Then she swallowed as she stared up at him. “Of course not. Unless...” Her eyes suddenly widened. “That’s what you wanted? To kiss me?” she asked in disbelief, as if she just then remembered what she had asked him.
“It’s but one thing I wanted. Want,” Henry replied, bemused when she didn’t make a move to leave his hold.
“What else do you want?”
Henry sighed and glanced around them, finally spying a park bench to the west. He let go his hold on her waist but kept one of her hands on his arm as he led them to the bench. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and brushed away the dust from the bench before allowing her to sit. When he followed suit, he angled in her direction, one of her gloved hands held in his.
“To start with, I’d like to finally move into my own townhouse. I have one, you see, a few doors down from the one my parents own.”
“What’s keeping you from doing so?”
Henry sighed. “My parents are getting on in years, and with my sister having married and moved out, I...”
“Felt responsible for them,” she finished for him.
“Exactly.”
“What else?”
“My sister is widowed but has loved your cousin, Graham, almost since he was born.”
“As he does her,” Laura said, her eyes widening in delight. “He plans to propose during dinner tonight.”
Henry allowed a tentative grin. “Well, this is good news,” he murmured. “My nephew is in need of a father.”
She nodded her understanding. “Lady Simpson says Lord Harrington is sixteen but has the demeanor of one much older.”
Frowning, Henry finally nodded. “Perhaps he is more in need of a confidante than a father,” he said in a quiet voice. “Although I do not believe I can be that for him, perhaps Graham Wellingham can.”
“Graham is much impressed with your nephew. Said he is the son he wishes he would have had with your sister.”
Henry gave a start. “You say that as if he has already met Edward.”
“Oh, he has,” Laura replied. “At Brooks’s. They spent an evening in conversation over brandy.”
His head bent as he considered her words, Henry felt a combination of relief and curiosity. For the past year, he had worried that his nephew might look to him for fatherly advice—advice Henry didn’t feel qualified to render given he had never been a father himself.
The boy’s grandfather, Mayfield, had never been much of a father to Charlie, but then Charlie’s upraising probably wasn’t any different from most sons of the ton.
“Thank you for telling me that,” Henry said when he shook himself from his reverie.
“You’re most welcome,” Laura replied, an impish grin bringing delight to her eyes. Angling her head to one side, she asked, “What else do you want?”
Inhaling softly, Henry was tempted to say, “Another kiss,” but instead he said, “I do w
ant the position at the bank. Not because I have thought I could do a better job of it than Mr. Streater, of course.” He shook his head to reinforce his words.
“Then why?”
The simple query had Henry realizing something he hadn’t considered before. He had always thought his desire for the position of head clerk had to do with rank. With privilege. A means of rising above his father’s original life in service by becoming a member of the ton. The new position would afford him that status as well as provide an income much higher than the one he now enjoyed. “The promotion comes with a raise in pay,” he said simply.
“For which you have plans?”
“Indeed,” he said. “I can afford to hire a staff for the townhouse. Have some necessary renovations done.”
Afford to take a wife.
“So you’ll be moving soon?”
He inhaled deeply. “I would, but I don’t wish to live there alone.”
Laura glanced down at how he had captured both of her hands in his. “Have you someone in mind you wish to live with?”
Henry lifted first one hand and then the other, bestowing a kiss on the back of each before holding them together between his own. “You. Should you agree to be my wife,” he said in a whisper. His brows suddenly furrowed. “Will I have to kidnap you, do you suppose?”
Her eyes glancing sideways, Laura allowed a brilliant smile before she said, “Are you proposing marriage?”
“I am.”
“Then you needn’t kidnap me,” Laura said with a shake of her head. “I’ll go with you. Willingly.”
His lips were on hers once again, his kiss as fervent as how she returned it. Despite those who walked past them, pretending not to notice their indiscretion, they continued to kiss for several minutes. They were fairly near to laughing when their lips finally parted.
“I shall have to pay a call on your father,” Henry said once he finally ended the kiss. “Will he be at your home this evening? Or... or now?” he asked as he sobered.
Laura couldn’t help but giggle at hearing Henry’s query. “Right now... he’s probably still at Wellingham Imports. You must know he works for Graham’s father.”
“I am in good stead with Thomas Wellingham,” Henry stated. “And Mrs. Wellingham was the midwife when my sister was born,” he added, as if he thought it necessary to provide proof.
Laura furrowed a brow. “And yours, I should hope?”
Henry smirked. “I was impatient. She was too late for my arrival.”
“Oh!” Laura scoffed, trying hard to hide her grin.
“Father did what he could before he fainted,” Henry continued, his expression sober until he, too, grinned. “Although I have been a more patient man since, I suddenly find I am no more,” he claimed. “At least, when it comes to you. If you’d prefer, I can drop you at my parents’ house on my way, or—”
“I’m going with you,” Laura stated. “My father will not believe you have proposed if I am not there.”
“Why ever not?”
Laura inhaled softly before her gaze lowered to where he still held her hands. “He doesn’t think a husband should allow his wife to spend her days painting portraits of people in their homes,” she replied. “Would allow, I suppose I should say. You, of course, would not have such qualms.” At seeing Henry’s reaction—his expression slowly changing from bliss to one of consternation—she realized he agreed with her father. Laura pulled her hands from his. “I must be allowed to paint, Henrí.”
“You’ll have your own studio in our townhouse, of course,” he said by way of a compromise.
Laura didn’t miss his use of the words “our townhouse,“ but the thought that she wouldn’t be allowed to continue her portraiture work had her leaning away from him. “That’s very kind of you, Henrí, but... but I must paint people in their homes. Where they are comfortable. Where they are surrounded by their own treasures,” she replied. After another moment, when she knew she hadn’t changed his mind, she added, “I... I think it’s best if we go back now.”
Henry stared at her, his crestfallen face looking far older than when they had embarked on their outing. “Of course. I... I didn’t mean to keep you away from your work for so long,” he murmured. He stood and offered his arm.
“Please don’t be angry,” she said quietly.
“I am not,” he replied, his quick pace towards the coach at odds with his words.
“Should you change your mind—”
“I won’t. I cannot,” Henry interrupted before he gave his head a shake and slowed his steps a fraction. “I apologize. I did not mean to sound like a petulant child, but on this matter I must agree with Mr. Overby,” he murmured.
“You did not,” Laura said on a sigh, her words said over the last of his. “And I am sorry that what you and I want are at odds in only that one regard.”
“As am I,” Henry managed.
Without sounding as hurt as he felt.
When they reached the coach, the driver barely had time to open the door before Henry handed her into it. He turned to the driver. “Take her back to the house. I’ll find my own way home. Miss Overby. Thank you for a pleasant afternoon,” he said as he turned, tipped his hat, and gave a bow.
Before the driver could shut the door, Laura called out, “Thank you for the walk, Mr. Simpson.”
At first, Henry bristled at her use of his formal name as he set off on the path that led to the southeastern entrance of the park. Then he realized it would have been entirely improper for her to call him by his given name with the driver standing there.
After she had learned that everything he wanted was coming to fruition, Henry thought it a wonder she could think she would be allowed to continue her painting in other people’s homes once they were married.
After their entirely improper kisses in broad daylight, it was a wonder she could play at being proper.
She knows of all my wants, he thought as he felt an ache grow in his chest. How could he still want her so much knowing she wouldn’t abide his wishes?
At least no other man would marry her, for he was quite certain there wasn’t a man in all of England who would allow his wife to do what she insisted she must.
Although the thought should have brought with it a sense of relief, Henry found he felt nothing of the sort.
Frustrated, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stalked off towards Park Lane.
Chapter 27
Commiserating with a Sister
A half-hour later, at Harrington House
Hannah regarded her reflection in the cheval mirror in her bedchamber and allowed a sigh of satisfaction. The dark pink dinner gown she wore, a sharp contrast to the mourning clothes she had been wearing this past year, looked even brighter than it had in Suzanne’s.
Her maid had done her hair in a style far more ornate than usual, as if she had been in on whatever surprise Tom and Victoria had in store for her.
Turning away from the mirror, she dared a quick glance out the window. The park was directly across the street and displayed its early spring greenery. Nursemaids with their charges in tow were making their way to their homes. Those on horseback were headed towards Rotten Row to begin another season of late afternoon parades.
A man who looked exactly like her brother plodded along the pavement taking steps no larger than her own.
Sure it was indeed her brother, Hannah opened the drapes with one hand and leaned her cheek against the glass. Although Henry usually walked with perfect posture, holding his head high, he looked now as if he had lost his best friend.
When he was directly in front of Harrington House, she was sure he would turn and walk up to the front door. Instead, he continued walking north.
Alarmed, Hannah rushed from the room and down the two flights of stairs. Although Potter was quick to pull her mantle from a peg and hold it out for her, she waived it off as she hurried past him and out the door. “Henry!” she called out.
The bent man paused and turned ar
ound as she rushed to stand before him. “Hannah,” he said, as he tipped his hat.
Oblivious to her lack of a bonnet or hat, Hannah regarded Henry with an expression of confusion. “Whatever has happened?” she asked as she struggled to catch her breath. “Is father...?” She dared not finish the query when she saw Henry’s dour expression.
“He’s fine, I think, although I have not been home for the past couple of hours.”
“What’s wrong, Henry?”
He struggled to speak, clearing his throat. “It seems I want too much.”
Hannah furrowed a brow. “Come inside, Henry. We’ll have a cup of tea. I have some time before I must leave for Fairmont Park.”
“Ah. Your reunion dinner,” Henry replied, his words making him sound peevish.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Henry straightened, his brows furrowing to match his sister’s. “Never mind.”
Hannah took her brother’s hand and pulled him in the direction of Harrington House. After a few steps, he came willingly, and once they were in the vestibule, Potter saw to his greatcoat and hat as Hannah ordered tea be brought to the front salon.
“Now tell me what has happened,” Hannah demanded as she led him to an upholstered chair and nearly pushed him into it.
“I proposed marriage.”
With absolutely no regard for her dinner gown, Hannah fell into the opposite chair. “To whom?”
“Miss Overby, of course.”
Hannah glanced up at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Laura Overby?” she asked in a quiet voice. “I... I wasn’t aware you were courting her,” she murmured. “Did you begin in the past... five hours?”
“I did. I was,” Henry replied, his words curt.
“She turned you down?”
Henry’s head jerked, as if his sister had slapped him across the face. “She accepted, actually. Turns out, we want the same things. Well, all except for her... painting.”
“Oh, Henry, you didn’t,” Hannah whispered. She guessed where the two of them might have disagreed. “Painting is her avocation, Henry. Surely you did not expect her to give it up to become your wife?”
The Bargain of a Baroness Page 18