A Woman of True Honor (True Gentlemen Book 8)

by Grace Burrowes

  “He likely does. If he’d intervened in her brother’s situation, the whole matter might have been avoided.”

  Emily led the way up the steps. “Might have been?”

  “Some debtors are habitually unable to manage their money. Perhaps Osgood knew that about Briggs’s brother. She did not ask for a loan, and Osgood did not rescue the unfortunate Jemmy, so we will never know what might have been, but are you prepared to rescue your Papa, Emily?”

  Emily took a seat in the shadows, her back to the house, and Valerian came down beside her.

  “In what way does Papa need rescuing? He’s healthier than he has been in years, the business is thriving, and with Caleb and Tobias sailing away to the South Seas, I’m sure he’ll have all manner of projects to hatch up with them. Then too, Adam has returned, and while he might have to bide in Lisbon or Tuscany, Papa is fit enough to travel those distances.” Her gaze became somewhat forlorn. “Adam and Papa can discuss business for hours.”

  Valerian tucked an arm around his beloved’s shoulders, for he was feeling somewhat forlorn too. Good manners were nothing more than consideration for one’s fellow creatures, and Valerian owed Emily much more than good manners.

  That his obligation would likely leave him missing his wife much of the time, and feeling de trop among the business-minded Peppers was of no moment.

  “You read contracts, Emily mine, every word of them. You brought in a shipwright to stop a conflagration of male arrogance that could have resulted in lives or fortunes lost. You have handled Osgood’s correspondence, you know his business, you wear his products. Modistes purchase more silk and fine wool than tailors do, and modistes are female.”

  “Valerian…”

  He kissed her. “My family is titled, and we’re embarking on a venture that involves peddling soaps and sachets, mixing up herbal tisanes, and opening shops, which we dearly hope become fashionable. My baby brother runs a glorified gaming hell. My brother-in-law is up to his wealthy ears in finance. The days when younger sons, or even titled families, could disdain trade are fast fading. That my wife has a hand in a successful cloth business would be a source of pride to me, Emily.”

  That was the truth. Emily would always be a source of pride to him, but on what grounds could she be proud of him? He’d make a go of Abbotsford, of course, he’d be a devoted husband and father, God willing, but would that be enough?

  “Ladies don’t run businesses, Valerian. Briggs was implacably clear on that.”

  Perhaps Australia wasn’t far enough away for Miss Briggs. “Briggs was as self-interested in the telling of that lie as she was in the rest of her dishonest endeavors. Lady Jersey is not merely involved in a bank, she’s the senior partner. A woman up north by the name of Mrs. Mountain owns more than two thousand coach horses and enough inns to stable them, as well as a shop that makes coaches. She’s merely turned her hand to the family trade and done quite well at it. Women own mills, schools, farms, shops, and more. They run charitable endeavors of significant complexity. They run most every household in the realm.”

  He took her hand. “I would be loath to think that my wife shied away from a family business at a time when that business needed her expertise. Your father won’t ask for your help, but I think you are in a position to bargain with him.”

  Emily leaned into him. “Bargain how?”

  Valerian closed his eyes, the better to enjoy the scent and feel of his intended, the better to accept a fate that he’d never anticipated.

  “Tell Osgood to keep his settlements in lieu of a share of the business.”

  “Mama bequeathed me money, Valerian. Papa can be as parsimonious as he wants, but he had no business being difficult about what my mother left to me.”

  Well, no, but Valerian was fairly confident Osgood would have turned the money loose after the ceremony. “What would your mama tell you to do?”

  “Box Papa’s ears. Mama and Papa talked business all the time. She more than once raised her voice to him over a commercial matter. He learned to listen to her too. It’s as you say: Women do most of the purchasing of fine fabrics, and we wear them by the yard.”

  Without moving, something about Emily’s posture shifted. Instead of a woman drained by a difficult family confrontation, she seemed energized by the thought of taking on her father’s stubbornness. Perhaps her mother’s memory had done that, though Valerian hoped his encouragement had contributed as well.

  “I will inherit an interest in the business,” Emily said. “I suspect Papa intended for Adam to manage it and send me reports.”

  “Adam won’t be on hand for some time, if ever, Emily. Your brother has seen the world. He cut ties with England and came back only to reconcile with you and Osgood. You cannot expect him to reverse course on the day of Osgood’s choosing and leave his own affairs adrift. He should quietly collect the funds your mother left him and make haste away from England. Caleb and Tobias are off to conquer the Antipodes, and that leaves only you.”

  “Papa could hire—”

  “Papa hired Ogilvy.”

  That had her on her feet and pacing. “He did, and he never once bothered to look in on Ogilvy’s progress. I suspect he didn’t even read the blighted contract, and now he’s talking about buying ships that aren’t fit for his purposes.”

  “Ships—plural?”

  She came to a halt, gaze on the house. “Where would we live, Valerian?”

  “I would need to spend some time here in Dorset, but I can let out Abbotsford, if that’s what you’re asking, and Hawthorne will serve as my steward.” Valerian didn’t want to give up on the peace and quiet of his own acres, a place to call home near his family seat. An English gentleman owned property in the usual course.

  But the usual course would not suit Emily, and thus the usual course might have to be abandoned.

  She faced him, her expression quite fierce. “I am asking what you need to be happy, Valerian. I can bury myself in Papa’s business affairs, but I expect we will be blessed with children. They don’t raise themselves, and I have no respect for the aristocratic practice of treating offspring as a burden to be shouldered by servants, rather than as treasures to be lovingly reared.”

  Oh, how he adored her. “My father was an aristocrat. He and his countesses raised their progeny, though they had help.” Valerian rose, because he sensed Emily had made as much progress with the notion of managing Osgood’s business as she was going to make for the moment.

  “I will be a good mother to our children,” Emily said, closing the distance between them. “My mother managed to keep Papa in line and look after me and Adam. Will you take an interest in the cloth business?”

  He considered a well-meant lie, considered shading the truth. Neither would serve for the woman he esteemed above all others.

  “I will of course never refuse a family member’s request for assistance, Emily, but I know nothing of the cloth industry. I like to be of use doing the work others neglect, and yet, I can’t very well be effective in an area where I’m toweringly ignorant. My expertise lies with diffusing arguments, managing complicated social situations. Petty diplomacy, I guess you’d call it.”

  For which no real profession existed, other than that of gentleman at large.

  “What of your book?” she asked. “Did you enjoy writing your book?”

  His book. On what fanciful day had he ever thought himself capable of authoring a book? “I loved every minute of it. When I took up my pen, all other worries and cares disappeared, and I absorbed myself in the challenge of effective and meaningful communication.”

  Which was the problem. A gentleman brought means to his marriage, but he should also bring meaning. While Emily was keeping Osgood’s mercantile empire from floundering, what meaningful effort could Valerian turn to, other than calling upon the Abbotsford tenants?

  “You must write more books.” Emily looked absolutely certain of her conclusion. “You persisted with your manuscript when nobody encouraged you. You s
ent it out to publishers for consideration when another man would have set it aside as a mere pastime. You have ideas for more books, Valerian, I know you do.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “Because I love you. Because I know you don’t need to bleat your every idea for all the world to hear. You keep your own counsel, but your mind is never idle.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, glad that embracing meant she couldn’t see his face. “I would like to draft something like Aesop’s Fables to teach children the point of good manners. Why do we wait our turn? Why do we offer courtesy to everybody we meet, irrespective of station? Why do we never take more from the tray than is polite? Children love stories, and when we’re young, we’re especially impressionable and good-hearted. Teach a boy his manners, and he’ll become a gentleman, regardless of his calling or station.”

  And such a book would be meaningful. Perhaps not enormously lucrative, perhaps forgotten in a few years, but it would be meaningful.

  “Then that is what you will do,” Emily said. “And you will help your family with their botanical venture, and manage your brothers, and see to Abbotsford’s holdings, and serve as magistrate, and be a papa to our children. I will be their mama, and Papa’s business conscience, and the lady of our household.” She took a firmer hold of him. “This will be complicated, Valerian. We will be endlessly busy.”

  Valerian hoped they would be endlessly happy. Not according to the conventional expectations for an earl’s son or a wealthy heiress, but according to their own hearts.

  “You forgot the most important part, Emily.”

  She peered up at him. “The assemblies? I am happy to be your dancing partner at the lessons, Valerian, though that’s entirely selfish of me. My dancing wants work, I know.”

  “You will be my partner at the lessons and for all the good-night waltzes, but the most important part is that I will love you, and I hope you will offer me a reciprocal regard, and thus all the busyness and complication will be manageable.”

  He knew it would be, because he knew Emily, and he knew his own strengths and abilities.

  “You are right, of course. Do you hear yelling?”

  Caleb, Tobias, and Adam were apparently going at each other, their strident tones wafting across the garden. “They are merely being emphatic. When they are truly hollering, we will intervene.”

  Emily sighed, Valerian kissed her brow, and the moment became all the sweeter for the knowledge that whatever had sparked the difference of opinion in the house, Valerian would enjoy sorting it out, and Emily would likely take a hand in that too.

  They were to be married, and they were to be partners in any number of adventures, business and otherwise.

  “What’s in your pocket?” she asked, easing her grip. “You usually look all dapper and perfect, but I can hear paper crackling in your coat pocket.”

  Valerian shoved his hand in his pocket and found the epistle Grey had passed along to him earlier in the day.

  “A letter from my—” He opened the missive, expecting to see Jacaranda’s tidy script. Instead, Worth Kettering’s scrawl greeted him. “From my brother-in-law.”

  “Well, what does it say? Papa claims Mr. Kettering is scandalously wealthy, which from Papa is high praise indeed.”

  Valerian opened the letter, expecting a terse warning that Sycamore was getting in over his head, or perhaps a command to appear in Town to make a fraternal obeisance at Jacaranda’s feet.

  “He likes my book,” Valerian said slowly. “He showed it to King George himself.”

  In the next moment, Valerian found it imperative to resume his seat.

  “Go on,” Emily said, sinking down beside him. “The king fancies himself quite the arbiter of manners, doesn’t he? Europe’s first gentleman or some such. Patron of the arts, courtier without compare.”

  “The king was ‘impressed with both my wit and the breadth of my subject knowledge.’ His Majesty suggested I divide the book into two volumes, one aimed at a masculine audience, one at a feminine audience… That’s not a bad idea.”

  “You can do that? Just chop a book in two?”

  Valerian tried to make his mind focus on Emily’s question, but the king liked his book. The sovereign of the realm liked his book.

  “I can revise the material,” Valerian said, thinking through his arrangement of chapters. “I can add a bit for the ladies, a bit for the fellows. The notion is actually clever.”

  The noise from the house grew louder, not quite to the threats-of-violence level, merely the music of a lively difference of opinion.

  “Is there more?” Emily asked, peering at the letter. “His penmanship is terrible.”

  “Much about Worth lacks polish, but he adores Jacaranda, and she him. He says…” Valerian looked more closely at the slashing script. “He says…”

  He put the letter down and purely hugged Emily.

  “What?” she demanded, hugging him back. “What does he say?”

  Valerian fumbled the letter into her hand and went right back to hugging her.

  Emily managed to get the epistle up to eye level. “Who is Dougal MacHugh?”

  “He’s the most successful publisher of domestic advice in London. His books are in every shop that wants to attract trade from the households with means and aspirations to social betterment. He’s… perfect for my book. For my books.”

  “The king’s endorsement persuaded him to…” Emily tossed the letter onto the bench. “I’ll read it later. Perhaps we should frame it. If Adam uses his fists on Tobias and Caleb, will you arrest him?”

  Valerian kissed her, because what else could a man do when his dreams came true, except kiss the woman who’d share those dreams with him?

  “Do you want me to arrest him?”

  “I like it when you subtly threaten legal retribution as you offer up the tea cakes. That’s very dashing and ever so—”

  He kissed her some more, and as it happened, nobody came to blows that day, but only because Valerian and Emily interceded, brandishing both tea cakes and threats, and having ever so much fun doing both.

  Epilogue

  Valerian peered at Emily over the rims of his spectacles. “Sycamore is threatening to visit. He sends his love.”

  Valerian in spectacles inspired Emily’s imagination in all manner of marital flights. He was in the habit of reading in bed late at night, wearing nothing but his spectacles, and ye gods…

  He was fully clothed now, and the fire cracked merrily in the hearth of Abbotsford’s study, but no wonder Emily’s first born was due to arrive in less than four months. A woman could withstand only so much scholarly nudity from a husband, after all.

  “Tell Cam to pay his call when we can take him with us to the next assembly,” Emily said, peering at the hem of the infant dress she was embroidering. “The local ladies will enjoy standing up with him.”

  Valerian put aside his brother’s letter. “I also had news from Kettering today.”

  “Good news?” Worth Kettering had taken over managing Emily’s funds, though she and Valerian had refused any sort of settlements from Osgood other than the money Emily had inherited from her mother. From the Dorning family, they received a modest percentage of the quarterly profits from the botanical business, the ledgers for which remained under Valerian’s supervision. The “flower money” and the proceeds of Valerian’s writing were set aside for savings.

  “Worth sends very good news,” Valerian said, taking off his glasses. “The king has agreed to pardon Adam, though I gather Osgood had to first gift acres of silk to Carlton House and the Pavilion.”

  “Papa could cover both buildings in silk and barely feel the expense. For Adam’s sake, I am relieved, though justice should not require a bribe in silk. Perhaps Adam can attend the baby’s christening.”

  Adam had attended their wedding. The ceremony had been a quiet gathering in the Dorning family chapel, with on
ly family as witnesses. Margaret Dorning had stood up with Emily; the Earl of Casriel had served as best man, and the wedding breakfast had been a hearty family meal on the back terrace of Dorning Hall. Adam had taken his leave before sunset the same day, though he wrote regularly from Milan, and appeared to be conducting an epistolary courtship of Mrs. Thelwell too.

  “Do you still want to travel up to London next week?” Valerian asked, rising and going to the window. The latest snowfall had been a mere six inches. Enough to be pretty, not enough to stop travel.

  “Once the baby arrives, I’ll be disinclined to travel for some time. If we don’t look in on Papa now, he’ll get up to mischief.”

  Valerian turned and braced his hips against the windowsill. “Do you regret hiring Mrs. MacLellan, Emily? We can still move to London, you know. We could stay at Dorning House, or even buy our own property.”

  Valerian’s books had done exceedingly well, and his children’s book subscriptions were piling up apace though the manuscript wasn’t complete yet. He told her frequently that he could write anywhere, and Emily believed him.

  “Come sit beside me,” Emily said, folding her embroidery atop her work basket. “I have a confession.”

  “This sounds interesting.” Valerian joined her on the sofa and rested an arm along her shoulders. “Have you been naughty?”

  “Not since I was naughty with you before breakfast. This has to do with Papa’s cloth business.”

  Valerian leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. “You want to move to London. Very well, we’ll move. I can let out Abbotsford, though finding the right tenant might take some time, and—”

  Emily put two fingers over her husband’s lips. “I thought I wanted to run Papa’s business, Valerian, to be the manager Papa never allowed me to be.”

  He wrapped her fingers in a warm grip. “And?”

  “Not and. But. But, I find I am not all that interested in cloth. Papa was trying to keep me away from the business at first because he worried that I’d stolen from him, then because he realized that even a very large and wealthy business was still the dreaded mercantile shop in the eyes of polite society.”