by Gordon, Rose
Giles scanned the lines. “But he is still the one who manages the funds?”
“No. Yes. That part is a little complicated.”
“It must be if it even makes an educated man like you confused.”
Mr. Appleton chuckled. “In the event of your mother’s inability to produce a suitable heir, Lord Cosgrove was granted limited control of your funds and assets. It would seem Lord Norcourt wasn’t overly trusting of his friend because he was only permitted to use the funds as needed for improvements to the barony in addition to paying your mother a jointure and sending you your designated allowance. That’s all. Anything earned was to be saved for your heir to inherit.”
Giles hoped his disappointment didn’t show. To Mr. Appleton this large sum of money might be good news, but to him, it meant very little if it was tied up in an account to be passed on to his heir. Not that he needed great wealth to be happy, but the meager allowance that the old baron had seen fit to bestow upon him could hardly cover his expenses. He might end up in debtor’s prison in his attempt to get an heir. Were he ever so moved to find a wife. Which he wouldn’t be. At eight-and-twenty only two ladies had ever caught the slightest bit of his interest. The first was already married, and the other… Well, she’d be married soon. And to his brother at that.
“Rather confident I’d have an heir, wasn’t he?” Giles forced.
“Nearly all gentlemen have an heir,” Mr. Appleton said. “It’s just not always a son. But yes, he was confident you’d have a son—” he paused a beat— “and I am, too. That, and your mother are the only two things the old codger and I ever agreed upon.”
Giles frowned and idly played with the plume on the broken quill. Apparently his father had thought with all of the money that would be in Giles’ coffers by the time he was of an age to marry it’d be enough to buy the affections of a lady who wanted to be baroness badly enough. He dropped the now flattened and matted feather. “Thank you for looking into this. I appreciate it.” Though clearly what he and Mr. Appleton considered good news varied.
“Have you an appointment?”
Seth was still here which meant he wouldn’t be going to White’s to meet Sebastian like he normally did. “No.”
“Good, then I’ll finish explaining.” He flashed Giles a smile. “I did promise good news, didn’t I?”
“I thought you already told me.”
Mr. Appleton’s top lip curled up, then transformed into a wide smile. “If that’s what you consider good news, this next part you might consider to be great.” He lifted his stack of papers up to his face and idly tapped the ends against his chin. “Hmmm. Can we make a bargain?”
“For what?” he asked between clenched teeth. Anytime anyone had ever wanted to make a bargain with him before, he’d come out with the rotten end. He tried to remind himself that Mr. Appleton didn’t seem that sort and unclamped his jaw.
“My information for your presence.”
“My presence?” Giles narrowed his eyes on Mr. Appleton, but damned if he knew what he should be looking for in the man’s face to give away that he had bad intentions. “I thought my money was being exchanged for your information.”
Mr. Appleton waved him off. “I’ll accept no coins for this. And—” he met Giles’ gaze— “I’ll still give you the information without your agreement to come to dinner at my house tonight. But if you’d like to, the invitation is there.”
Giles’ body relaxed. Mr. Appleton was sincere. “I’ll consider it.”
“That’s all I’d ask.” He lowered the stack of papers to his lap. “Simon will be there again, but don’t let that deter you. His mother—your mother—she meant well and given the circumstances, I can’t blame her too much for not having told him about you sooner.”
“Too many things to explain, I suppose” Giles said.
“No, too much hurt to relive,” Mr. Appleton said. “She just, well—” He sliced a hand through the air. “It’s probably best we not talk about this now. I’d hate to put a damper on your good news.”
“I thought it was great news,” Giles teased, relieved for the change of topic.
“Right, you are,” Mr. Appleton agreed with a chuckle. “Well, it’s not all great, mind you. Some of it can only be termed as infuriating, but I think everything considered, you’ll be satisfied.”
Giles just stared at him, anxious.
“Norcourt granted Cosgrove the right to act as your guardian and overseer of all of the funds until your twentieth birthday at which time you’d inherit or if a physician deemed you were of unsound mind you’d cease to be heir and the barony and everything Lord Norcourt owned would be transferred to his nephew.”
“He can have it,” Giles muttered.
“No, it’s yours. Well, most of it any way,” he amended. “Unfortunately, the majority of the earnings from anything unentailed over the last eight years have gone to Cosgrove’s coffers, but the rest is in a trust.”
“For my heir?”
“Yes,” Mr. Appleton said quietly. “Everything that has already been earned and deposited in that account is reserved for your heir. In addition anything else your barony continues to earn will be deposited into the trust, minus whatever funds are needed for the upkeep as determined by Mr. Forrester and Mr. Robins who have been appointed to act as the trustees until you are succeeded.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “However, the good—nay, great—news is that any future earnings on anything unentailed are legally yours and will be deposited in your accounts starting next month.”
The air left Giles’ lungs in a whoosh. “Is it more than thirty pounds?”
Mr. Appleton chuckled. “Yes. You’ll be very comfortable.”
“Th-thank you,” Giles said.
“You don’t need to thank me. I was glad to help.” He stood and handed Giles some papers from his satchel. “Keep these locked up for your records. I need to keep these for a few days longer if you don’t mind. I’ll bring them back next week?”
“Is there something unsettled?”
“Not unsettled, just undiscovered.” Mr. Appleton picked up his satchel and started for the door.
Giles followed him into the hall. “Can I ask what?”
“You can ask, but you already know my price.” He grinned and put on his coat. “I’ll be back next week with more details. Until then, if you’re available for dinner, we’d enjoy the company.”
“Thank you,” Giles murmured. He’d go have dinner over there at some point, he was sure of it. Just not anytime soon.
Mr. Appleton’s fingertips fell on Giles’ shoulder, staying him from opening the door. “If you’d rather not dine with all of us, but wish to come by for a game of cards or a drink, I’ll take that, too.”
Giles stared blankly at the man. He honestly couldn’t fathom why Mr. Appleton would want to have a drink or play cards with him. Even Sebastian didn’t invite him over for either of those pursuits. And yet, there was nothing about Mr. Appleton that made him think he was being baited with the invitation. Odd.
“I’ll think about it,” he lied, opening the front door.
Wordlessly, Mr. Appleton took his leave.
A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside Giles as he closed the door then stepped into his painting room.
“Sorry. That took longer than I thought.”
“That’s all right,” Seth said, his pencil moving back and forth across the paper.
Giles walked over behind Seth’s chair to see what he was drawing. “Is that a horse?”
“It’s supposed to be, but I can’t get his front legs right. The first time, they were too short—” he flipped a few pages back in the book— “then they were too long—” he flipped the page again— “and now they look too wide apart.”
“They look fine to me. Extend the lines of the body a little longer before you draw in the back legs.”
Seth made a few quick marks on the paper. “Like that?”
“Exactly.”
A slow smile spre
ad across the boy’s face. “I thought you said you don’t teach.”
“I don’t. It was merely a suggestion,” he said, picking up another of his sketchbooks.
The clock behind him chimed the hour just then.
“I need to go!” Seth frantically tossed down the pad and pencil and scampered toward the door.
Giles reached for him to stay him. “You can take the paper with you if you’d like.”
“I can?”
“Just don’t bring it back filled with naughty drawings.”
“I can come back?”
Giles stilled. “If you want to.”
“I want to. I just thought…”
Giles knew exactly what he’d thought. He’d been left alone many times in a room by an adult who didn’t want to be around him. “Seth, as I said before, that meeting lasted longer than I expected. Next time you come see me I’ll spend the entire day with you.”
“Monday?”
“Monday will be fine. Are you sure you don’t want to spend time with your mama and Simon?”
“They need their privacy,” Seth declared.
“Privacy?” They weren’t even married yet!
“They’re courting. They need time to talk and such.”
“And such?” Giles choked out, heat rising in his face.
Seth twisted his lips. “Ride horses on some Row, sit on benches together, picnic at the park. I don’t want to do any of that.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I’d rather come here, if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. I actually like you coming by, but don’t want to get in the way of your friendship with Simon since he’s to be your papa and all.” He hated the way his throat hurt as he said those words.
“Just because you’re not going to be my papa doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, too,” Seth said. “It’s the same as what Mr. Appleton said to you before leaving—he just wants to be your friend even if you don’t want to be friends with Mrs. Appleton or Simon.” He picked up the pad of paper. “I need to be going now. I’ll see you Monday.”
Giles numbly watched the boy walk out the door. Either that boy was extremely perceptive or Giles really should be locked away in an asylum. He hadn’t thought about Mr. Appleton’s attempts to befriend him as anything other than a means to get him to reconcile with his mother—something he was more inclined to do with each passing day anyway—he might be after a friendship.
He idly scratched the side of his pencil with his thumbnail. Would it be so bad to form a friendship with the man? He seemed to be genuine with his efforts to help Giles. Perhaps the next time he offered, Giles would accept his invitation.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucy fingered the white lace that she’d just sewn onto the cuff of the blue dress that Mrs. Appleton had brought her yesterday. Mrs. Appleton had acted nonchalant about bringing her three gowns and even claimed them to be unneeded. Lucy hadn’t wanted to accept such charity, mind you, but her need for suitable gowns had far outweighed her pride and she’d graciously accepted the older woman’s generosity. They’d needed minor adjustments, of course. Some were done with just a needle and thread and others, like this cuff, had required new lace. Which she’d been able to buy and still managed to have a few coins left over that she planned to use to treat Seth.
The poor lad had been on his best behavior for her in the two weeks since they’d come to London and she thought it was time to reward him. It wouldn’t be much, of course, because she couldn’t be wasteful. Not that she had a lot to waste, but he did deserve something.
“How about if we go get an ice,” Lucy said, sitting down in the chair beside him in the corner of the library.
His head snapped up from behind the pad of paper he’d been drawing on constantly for the past two days. “What’s an ice?”
“It’s a treat.” She tugged the pad from his fingers and blinked at the picture he’d drawn. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it looked far more appropriate than the last thing she’d seen him draw. “That looks lovely.”
“Really?” he exclaimed, beaming.
“Of course.” She almost wished she hadn’t commented, for if he asked what she liked best about it, she wasn’t sure what she’d say. “Now, go put this upstairs so we can go and get back before dark.”
Thirty seconds later, Seth had deposited the sketchpad he’d found only heaven knew where upstairs and was ready to go. “Are we going to Covent Gardens to get the ice?” he asked as she locked up the library.
“No. There’s a vendor not too far from here.” She took an extra second to test the lock. “It’s just down the street.”
“Really?” The excitement in his voice was contagious and Lucy found herself grinning just the same.
“Really,” she confirmed, wrapping an arm around him. She’d never tell him, or anyone this, but she’d been looking forward to getting another ice since Simon had gotten her one the day of the statue museum. Something about that one had been tainted and made it hard to enjoy. She had every intention to enjoy this one.
“This is the way to Lord Norcourt’s house,” Seth commented.
Lucy nearly tripped. “Is it?” she said as airily as she could manage, though she knew very well that it was.
“Yes. It’s that one.” He pointed to a tall, tan brick house about four houses down.
“And how would you know?” She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have asked that, she should have just changed the subject while she still could.
Seth gave her a sideways glance. “We stayed there.”
Lucy blushed. Indeed, they had, but she hadn’t taken notice of his address then. She’d had too many other things on her mind that day.
“Besides, Simon pointed it out that night he brought us home.”
“Did he now? I don’t remember that.” It was the truth, too. She didn’t remember Simon saying anything about it being Giles’ house. Probably because she was too distracted watching his carriage stop there for him to get out.
“Should we stop and see if he wants to get an ice, too?”
Seth’s words brought her up short. “I’m sure he already has plans for the evening.” He was a lord, a peer of the realm, she could almost guarantee he had more important things to do than go have an ice with her and Seth.
“Oh, there he is—” Seth pulled away from her— “I’ll go ask him.”
Before she could reach out and stop him, he’d gotten away.
Tamping down her mortification, she joined them where they stood at the bottom of the steps that led to his house.
“Mama and me are about to go get ices, would you like to come?”
“Ice?” he clipped; a shadow crossed his face.
“Flavored ice,” Lucy supplied. “From a vendor.”
Giles’ puckered brow didn’t relax, nor did his set jaw. “Flavored ice?”
“To eat,” Seth said helpfully.
“I don’t like ice,” Giles said flatly.
Lucy had no idea how to respond to that.
Seth, however, had no reservation. “That’s all right. You can still come with us. Can’t he, Mama?”
“Seth, Lord Norcourt might have other plans already,” she said softly.
“He doesn’t,” Seth rebutted. “He said he was just on his way out to the park to look at a bird. There’ll be birds there tomorrow, so he can come with us tonight.”
It was on her lips to suggest that just because he didn’t have any pressing matter to attend to that he might not wish to join them, but was cut off when Giles said, “I’ll come.”
“Perhaps there’ll be something else you might enjoy,” Lucy offered.
Giles shrugged as if to say he didn’t care either way and offered her his arm.
***
Giles didn’t care what the vendor was selling, he’d enjoy the company and that was good enough.
“I think the vendor is just two more blocks up here, by the fabric shop.”
Giles knew
where she was talking about. He’d seen the man peddling his goods. The man was dratted annoying, he was. Yelling and hollering to get people’s attention so they’d buy his goods. Had Giles had more coins in his pocket, there had been a time or two when he’d have bought something from the man just to close his mouth. Giles didn’t realize he’d sold ices, however, and might have hesitated before spending his coins on such a thing. He shivered. He hated ice. No, hated was too weak of a word. He detested ice.
“He’s right there,” Lucy said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze that sent fire through his veins.
As if he’d seen them coming from down the block, the vendor started running toward them. “Care to buy yer purdy la’y an ice?”
“Yes,” Giles clipped. “And the boy.”
The man nodded excitedly. “Yes, yes.” He waved them over to his cart. “Lemon or wine flavor?”
“Lemon,” Lucy said automatically.
“Eh, come now, ye’d like the wine flavor,” the vendor urged.
“No, thank you. We’ll take lemon.”
“At least try it,” the vendor encouraged, thrusting a cup full of a red substance into Lucy’s face, missing her nose by a mere half-inch.
“She said lemon,” Giles said, pushing the man’s beefy arm away.
“T’ree lemon ices, den,” the vendor said.
“Two,” Giles corrected with a shiver.
“Two?” The blond-haired vendor stared at them through his grey eyes, then suddenly a smile spread his lips. “Eh, yer gwine share it, aren’t ye?” he asked with a wink at Giles. “Ye’ll wish she’d asked for the wine, fer sure.”
Giles felt his face flush, but didn’t know what to say to assure Lucy he had no such interest in sharing her ice. Not that he thought for an instant she’d want to share her ice with him. That would be…odd.
“Here ye are,” the vendor said, pushing two ices in Giles’ direction.
He took them and handed one to Lucy and the other to Seth before fishing the coins out of his pocket to pay the man his price.