by Susanne Lord
Georgie sank against the doorjamb, all the spirit in her extinguished. “The messenger boy is waiting on the pavement for some sort of reply.”
Hell. He cracked open Will’s letter and steeled himself against the words. Mina was still looking for him. That wasn’t news. She wanted to give him back that money—as if he’d ever take it from her.
He kept reading, and reading carefully, but only because Will was a good man. The note outlined all the work he’d done on his behalf, just as Georgie had said. They’d even found themselves an attorney who had written letters to the Skinner nurserymen and the Penderton and Monroe auction house.
And he didn’t give a damn.
He shouldn’t have chased dreams of orchards and stepping-stones, and a fine lady for a wife with the most kissable lips in the world. He was an explorer. A traveler. A man without family who left pieces of himself everywhere he sailed.
Soon, there’d be nothing left of him at all.
“The boy is waiting,” Georgie said. “What did Mr. Repton ask you?”
“He wants us to visit.”
“Us?”
“I imagine he’s keen to see you and Aimee any chance he can. You can go. Will says the carriage will wait, or he could send it back at another time.”
“And what of you?”
Seth dropped the letter on the bed. “I’ve no time for Richmond.” He opened the front door to speak to Will’s servant. “Sorry, lad. Tell Mr. Repton I can’t—”
“Wait, please.” Georgie halted the boy and turned to face Seth. “Let’s see him. He must have news.”
“None that will change anything.”
“For the sake of Peter, you can be the most stubborn man.”
That stung. “I know it. I’ve never been smart.”
“I said stubborn, not stupid.” She swung open the door to the boy, muttering beneath her breath. “Mr. Mayhew and I accept. Please tell the coachman we’ll be just a minute.”
He frowned at his sister but she met his glare with an identical green-blue one. “He may have news about your discoveries. And Mina.”
“It’s too late.”
“If there’s a chance you might find the means to wed her, you have to take it.” She grabbed his hand. “You love her, Seth. This could be an opportunity, and a man like you recognizes that when it arises, doesn’t he?”
Opportunity.
Well…hell. His sister knew him too well. And he didn’t have the fight in him anymore. “I suppose…I could hear what he has to say,” he grumbled. “See where the tide’s at.”
“The tide,” she murmured, a sparkle lighting in her eyes. “Julius Caesar?”
He shrugged. “Can’t tell anymore if I’m in the shallows or the flood.”
Georgie smiled. “So go and see. Like the scholar of Shakespeare that you are.”
Twenty-two
“Seven hundred pounds.” Will handed him the letter from the attorney and Seth sat down beside Georgie to read it.
“I don’t understand what he’s written.” Seth flipped the letter over. It was a long one, and the language as hard as Shakespeare.
“I had to read it myself several times,” Will said. “All it took was a strongly worded letter from the attorney, and the Skinner nurserymen have decided to offer you seven hundred pounds for possession of all your seeds and orchids.”
Seven hundred. His heartbeat jumped in the second before his reason took over. He could fix his cottage, but he couldn’t take care of Mina and her family for that. And there was no getting around it. He had to take care of Mina’s sisters or she wouldn’t feel safe. Marrying Mina meant marrying her whole family. He set the letter down on the table. “I suppose that’s a lot of money.”
Will, Charlotte, and Georgie weren’t saying anything. And when he looked up to check their faces, they were all grim.
No, that wasn’t accurate.
Will was looking horn-mad.
“If you accept the seven hundred, Seth”—Will snatched the letter off the table, crushing new creases into it as he brutally folded it—“then you forfeit your share of what’s earned at the auction.”
“But I gave the seeds to the Skinners to cultivate. They may not all have survived. How many do they even have? I gave them eighty species but—”
“You did a job packing those seeds then, because the catalog lists nearly eighty.”
Hell. Seth nodded, trying to do the math. “And with the put-up price…?”
“If everything sells, eight hundred and eighty is the opening price,” Will said. “But the bids will be higher.”
“But how much higher?” he asked. “There’s no telling. Seven hundred sounds like a good offer.”
He looked to Charlotte Repton, the only friendly face in the room. Her smile dimpled. “It is a contemptible offer, Mr. Mayhew.”
He blinked.
“More coffee?” she asked.
“Uh…no, thank you.”
Will leaned forward in his chair, giving the letter in his fist a hard shake. “You have a choice, Seth. Seven hundred or a percentage of what’s raised at auction—less the commission to your agents. And the agents would be the Skinners and the auction house.”
“Is that percentage in the Skinners’s letter?” Seth asked.
Will shook his head, frowning. “No. You’ll have to fight them for any percentage. And they’re counting on your not going to the trouble, the bastards.” He looked contritely at the women. “Pardon my language, ladies.”
Charlotte only beamed wider and leaned over to whisper to Georgie. “I rather adore men in a righteous passion. Fortunately for me, Will is often in just that state over any manner of things.”
Georgie smiled uncertainly at Charlotte before turning back to Seth. “Seven hundred is a great deal of money. But Will and Charlotte would know better than us how the auction might play.”
Will nodded. “I realize seven hundred is more than most men make in a decade, but I think you will make far more at auction. You should demand fifty percent as the discoverer of those plants.”
Seth looked down at the letter. Mina was marrying Tom. Even seven hundred wasn’t enough compared to what Tom was offering. A house in London. A salary for the rest of his life. A widow’s pension. Shelter for her sisters.
Gambling on fifty percent—if he could get that—of some unknown number would be about the stupidest notion a man could have. Wouldn’t it?
He sat with the focus of the whole room on his next words, and his skin heating. “I don’t know any lawyers,” he said quietly, as if the volume would somehow spare him a little of his shame. “I don’t know if I have enough blunt to even hire one. Don’t know where to start exactly.”
Hell, Georgie would know that about him by now. And Will and Charlotte, they said they were friends—they were friends. And if he wanted his life to be different, he had to start asking for help.
“What do you think I should do?” Seth raised his chin to look at them. “It’s not right what the Skinners did. But I don’t know much about money. Never had enough of it to bother learning.”
Will sat forward, his smile growing. “Neither did I. Fortunately, Charlotte had her own man of business when we married. He’s a good man and works for the family. I don’t think he’d mind taking a meeting.”
A meeting with a man of business. He’d never done that before. “If I made any money, I’d want a beneficiary. If something happened to me, I’d want to make sure my…my wife was taken care of.”
My wife. He almost didn’t dare say the words.
“He could arrange that, and it’s a good thought,” Will said. “What is it, Seth? Something else is troubling you.”
“Minnie. She’s marrying Tom Grant.” He could barely push the words out his lips.
“Tom Grant?” Charlotte cried. “Who is Tom Gran
t? And honestly, why has no one informed me of this?”
“He asked her three weeks ago,” Georgie explained.
“Didn’t Minnie tell you in one of her letters?” Seth asked.
“No!” Charlotte huffed. “No, she did not. I am not even acquainted with this Tom Grant. I cannot credit her accepting anyone but you.”
Seth shrugged a shoulder. It was all he could manage. “He’s what she wanted. A stable man. A husband who’d provide.”
Georgie leaned forward to take his hand. “Maybe you can provide now?”
“But how do I know?” He shook his head. “She would’ve said yes.” She would have because Mina knew love didn’t matter.
But if he had more than love…
He had land. A lot of land. And if all his prizes sold for as much as Will and Charlotte expected they might, he’d have money. He could fix his cottage and buy a flock of sheep and he could provide damn well for Mina, and Mary and Emma and Sebastian and all the other sisters he’d not even met yet.
He might have Mina for his own.
His fists were clenched, the nails digging into the flesh of his palms, and he eased them open. But if she’d already said yes to Tom—hell. He gripped his temples and shut his eyes to think. Had he missed the current? Lost his ventures? Lost his venture girl?
No. No, this was opportunity. This was the time to be bold or he’d lose her forever. There was never any curse, no fate, no luck, never any damn signs—he didn’t believe in signs. Even if the first time they met…
The first time. The flowers on her dress, the sweet woodruff. Only ever saw them in the woods behind his cottage. Only ever saw them one other place in the world. And that was home.
And the pottery vendor with the platter of melancholy thistle. Mina had steered him there, had said it felt like home somehow. That led him to Georgie.
And the Rio Gurupí, where he’d found his Wilhelmina orchid, and Mina’s charm—It’s no charm, she’d said. And it’s nothing near a diamond.
The Rio Gurupí…the River of Pure Diamond.
Had there been signs?
You have the sign.
His heart calmed, and he opened his eyes. There had been signs. But only one sign meant to simply be read: CLAIMING W. ADAMS.
Seth raised his head. “All right, Will. I’ll fight them for a percentage. I’ll go to auction.”
Georgie jumped up and hugged him. “Thank goodness, Seth. You won’t sail?”
He breathed deep and shook his head. “I think…maybe I can earn enough. I always planned to work. I’ll work every day, so Minnie and I have enough for our babies and grandbabies. I think it’ll be—it will be enough.”
“It’ll be more than enough.” Will grinned. “And you love her.”
Seth nodded hard. “I do. I love her.” The words were more breath than sound.
“Then you’ll fight the Skinners for your claim,” Will said.
“Not fifty percent,” Seth growled, his voice still not working. “More. I found ’em. Maybe if my mates were of a mind to tell me the truth, to be fair, I might’ve taken half.” Something hot and steely was curling its claws around his spine. “I’m owed more and I’m taking more.”
“That’s damn right!” Will winced, darting a glance at Georgie and Charlotte. “Pardon, ladies.”
Georgie waved off the apology, but Charlotte had turned sheep’s eyes on her husband.
“Do you remember the day you asked to go to India in my place?” Will said.
Seth shook his head. “Not really. I remember you were so depressed over leaving Charlotte, you could barely draw breath. You barely seemed to want to. I never saw a man so heartsick. I nearly turned heel, it was so awkward—”
“Yes, well.” Will frowned. “Seems you remember that well enough.”
“Thought you might start weeping—”
“All right—”
“I’d seen that look in other explorers,” Seth said. “Men who didn’t have the heart to keep living. It’s when I knew you wouldn’t make it out of India. Knew you’d not survive the trip.”
Will fell silent, studying him. “Is that why you went in my place?”
Seth looked up, surprised by the question. “Georgie was lost. She’s my family. And you had a wife. I had nothing in England.”
Will hugged Charlotte against his side before turning back to him. “You have something now, Seth. So I’ll remind you what you said. You told me to go get my family.” Will leaned forward and grinned. “So go get yours.”
Twenty-three
She rather hated sewing.
It was a sulky thought, but Mina was prone to sulky thoughts these days. She stretched her stiffening wrist and shook out her fingers, taking a moment to glance out the window at the wall across the narrow alley. A short slant of sun lit their neighbor’s wall on its way to setting for the day. What time was it? Six? Six thirty? They’d been sewing since half past seven this morning and, without Emma, she and Mary had long exhausted their conversation.
“Shouldn’t Emma be home by now?” she asked Mary. Once a week, each of them volunteered at the Mother’s Meeting Club in Cabbage Court. The kitchen always needed help in serving the poor. And until recently, Mary and Sebastian had been among the needy.
A light rap on the door and Mina was on her feet. Thank goodness, Emma. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Here she is.”
Emma’s cheeks were pink, and her blond curls haphazard under her bonnet, but she wore an enormous smile. “He’s going to help me.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Mr. Ingram. He has agreed to take my cause against Colin Rivers.”
Mina sighed in frustration. “Is that where you were? You were supposed to be at the Mother’s Club with Mrs. Bradford. It’s too dangerous to wander alone in the City.”
Emma raised her chin a notch and unbuttoned her coat. “You ought to be pleased. You’re forever going on about our finances.”
“Emma—”
“Mr. Ingram says if Mr. Rivers will not answer for his abandonment, we will flush him out.”
“Like a snipe, I suppose?” she said.
“Like a cad who ought to take responsibility for his actions. He will certainly not like to be embarrassed in front of the directors of the East India Company. They will not like to keep a man of such dubious character in their employ.”
“So you will charge him publicly? Shame him?”
“If he will not do the honorable thing. I should expect him to do the same to me had I done the same.” Emma stared, her cheeks paling. “I really thought you would be pleased, but nothing pleases you of late.”
Hurt, Mina dropped her eyes back to her sewing. And, yes, she loathed sewing.
The stitches blurred, but she would not wipe the tears from her eyes lest Mary and Emma see her cry. No, nothing pleased her, and the scold was the closest Emma had come to mentioning Seth’s abandonment of her.
It was her own fault. She should have demanded that Seth give her his direction but he had promised to the day after their visit to the Reptons’ three weeks ago. And that was the day Thomas had surprised her.
Three long weeks. She didn’t even know if he was still in England. East India would give her no information. And the butler at Lord Bosham’s town house in Grosvenor Square had not let her see Georgiana, but had promised to tell her she had visited.
No one would tell her where he was and she could not see him. If only she could see him again…
How could she berate Emma for chasing a man? She was chasing her own.
A knock sounded on the door and all four of them—Sebastian included—raised their heads in surprise.
Emma went to the door. “Who is there?” she asked through the door. Mildmay Park was no place to open doors wide.
“It’s me. It’s Seth.”
Seth? Mina’s stomach plummeted and only the ribbing of her corset kept her upright in her seat. Oh dear God—Seth! He hadn’t left. It wasn’t too late.
Emma looked back at her, wide-eyed and frozen, so Mina jumped to her feet and hurried to unlatch the door. “Wait,” she breathed, though he could not hear her. Wait wait wait—a sob of panic was rising against her throat, and she fumbled with the lock. Had she imagined his voice?
The latch turned, the door swung wide, and there he was, filling the entire door. And his wonderful eyes locked on hers. And crinkled. “Ah, Minnie,” he said quietly.
And his voice was so full of relief, that for a moment, all she could do was stare in confusion and wait for her heartbeat to ease. She was not even angry, though the wait had been long and so unkind. Because Seth was never unkind.
“You’re here.” She finally managed to breathe the words. And there were so many more words she needed to say.
“I’m here,” he rasped. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back and come sooner. It wasn’t right but I’m needing a minute to talk to you, Minnie.” His lips thinned. “No, that’s not accurate. I shouldn’t have said a minute. Maybe eight minutes or nine—”
“Come in,” she said. “I wanted to talk with you, too.”
Seth angled his broad body into their abode. He nodded at her sisters, and for him they put down their needlework and beamed welcoming smiles.
“Ladies, would you mind if I speak to Minnie alone?” he said.
Mary lurched to her feet and made to collect Sebastian. “Yes, of course.” Mary’s voice was unnaturally high and cheery. “We’ll go to Mrs. Bradford’s again, shall we?” Her skirts swayed with the speed in which she bundled her son and Emma into their coats and out the door to their neighbor.
Seth stood in the middle of the small parlor, his arms hanging at his sides. It was unnatural to not see him smile or hear him laugh. And she wanted that more than anything else in the world. “I’m so happy to see you. I was so afraid you’d gone and—”
“Minnie, would you mind if I talked first? On account of how all my words are about to jump out of my head? And if you’re holding me to that eight minutes, I’m afraid I’ll not get through them if you’re saying things back, which I’m thinking you do, and have a right to—”