Chapter 9
Watching the red wooden ball roll heavily along the ground, Amelia quietly nudged it along with her mind. Just a few more inches . . . It stopped short of the wicket toward which it had been heading.
“Is it my turn now?” Juliette asked. She was standing a few paces away next to Mr. Lowell and Mr. Burton, who’d both come to call for the third day in a row. Hoping to avoid the monotony of more pleasantries served with a cup of tea, Amelia had suggested they all enjoy the fine weather with a game of croquet.
“I believe so,” Mr. Burton, a gentleman farmer with a very impressive income and a joyful expression, said.
Stepping aside, Amelia watched her sister take her position and swing her mallet toward her target. The ball flew across the grass in the right direction, but missed the wickets along the way.
“Allow me to help,” Mr. Burton called, marching off in Juliette’s direction. He and Lowell had been showing up every day since the Elmwood ball. Which had apparently kept Coventry away. He’d come to call as planned but had not been shown in. Instead, he’d left a note with Pierson stating that he would return some other time when she was not busy entertaining other guests.
This had repeated on Sunday, prompting her to inform Pierson this morning that if Coventry and his mother happened to call, they were to be shown in immediately. No matter what. After all, she had only one more day remaining before she would have to meet with Mr. Gorrell again, so it was imperative that she convince Coventry to make the donation he’d offered.
“Perhaps we can go for a ride tomorrow,” Lowell suggested, moving a bit closer to her. His dark brown hair held a fussy appeal on account of the breeze that continued to disturb it. He was an attractive man without question, and Amelia knew she was fortunate to have gained his notice. She could certainly do a lot worse. And Burton wasn’t bad either. He wasn’t classically handsome the way Lowell was, but there was a kindness to him—an element of generosity and pleasantness—that held great appeal.
“We may have to consider another day,” she said. “Perhaps later in the week?”
He gave her a somber look. “Just as long as I know you are not trying to set me aside.”
“Of course not.” She gave him a smile that would hopefully put him at ease. “You know I enjoy your company.” Which was true. For one thing, she found his appreciation for games appealing. For another, he was doing an excellent job of distracting her from the yearnings of her heart. If they were to marry, she supposed she would be content even if passion would probably be lacking. He simply didn’t seem to have it in him to stir such emotion in her. Nor did Burton.
Indeed, only one man was capable of accomplishing that and he . . . She blinked as she stared toward the stairs leading down to the lawn. Because there he was now, striding toward her at a leisurely pace that made butterflies flitter about in her belly.
Dressed in a green jacket and gray breeches with boots that gleamed in the afternoon sun, he carried himself with a casual ease that belied the penetrating glower in his eyes. For some peculiar reason, he did not look the least bit pleased, though he did seem to make some effort to hide the fact behind a strained smile.
“My lady,” he said by way of greeting once he’d managed to circumvent the croquet course. He tipped his hat toward Lowell and Burton, who’d rejoined them after helping Juliette. “Gentlemen.” Glancing toward Juliette, he said, “It looks as though you are having a great deal of fun here.”
“Lady Amelia and Lady Juliette are extremely hospitable and much more interesting company than most young ladies of our acquaintance,” Mr. Burton remarked.
“He is right,” Lowell said. His eyes met Amelia’s. “I cannot tell you how happy I was when you suggested we play this game. Most ladies would never think to do so when receiving callers.”
“Oh.” Amelia briefly wondered if she might have made a faux pas but then dismissed the idea since Lady Everly had sanctioned the game. “I simply thought it might be a refreshing change from contemplating the weather.”
A smile lifted Mr. Burton’s lips. “How right you are, my lady.”
Coventry didn’t seem to agree. “The thing of it is, however, my mother and I have been trying to speak with you for three days now, and whenever we come to call, you are otherwise occupied.” He shot a meaningful look at Lowell and Burton.
“I’m sorry” was all she could think to say since she obviously wanted to speak with him as well, but she could hardly turn her callers away either. That would be rude.
“No, we are the ones who ought to apologize,” Mr. Lowell said. “We have been monopolizing your time, Lady Amelia, but it is difficult not to do so when you are as lovely and diverting as you are.”
“You’re too kind,” she said while doing her best not to blush. The curious thing was that it wasn’t the compliment as much as it was Coventry’s gaze boring into her that made her feel hot and unbalanced.
“We will take our leave now,” Mr. Burton said.
Mr. Lowell nodded. “Indeed we shall.”
Amelia and Coventry escorted them to the front door where Pierson handed the pair their hats and gloves. Mr. Burton bid everyone a good day and headed out.
“Shall I bring my curricle on Thursday then?” Mr. Lowell asked before leaving the house.
“Yes. I think that would suit.” Amelia was keenly aware of Coventry’s hovering figure standing close behind her in the foyer. “What time did you have in mind?”
“Eleven o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
She waited until Pierson had closed the front door and disappeared into a nearby hallway before she addressed Coventry. “You look as though you are in a snit again.” She headed on through to the parlor where Lady Everly and the dowager duchess awaited.
“If so, it is only because getting an audience with you has become more difficult than getting one with the king.”
She couldn’t help but grin in response to his grumpy tone. “Perhaps a cup of coffee will help.”
“Not tea?”
“You don’t especially . . .” Like tea. She stopped herself quickly, aware she’d been about to reveal how well she’d been paying attention to his every like and dislike. “Coffee’s more fortifying, I think. Unless of course you’d prefer a glass of brandy.”
“Thank you, but coffee sounds splendid right now.”
Entering the parlor, Amelia greeted the dowager duchess before ringing for a maid who arrived soon after. Their orders were placed and the maid departed, closing the door behind her.
“Perhaps I should fetch Juliette,” Amelia said.
“She asked if she might take advantage of the weather and try to do some painting,” Lady Everly explained.
“I see.” Amelia folded her hands in her lap. She was not unaware of the fact that Coventry was looking at her with keen anticipation. So she blew out a breath and readied herself for the battle that probably lay ahead of her and said, “There’s something I must confess.”
Silence. It was as if all sound had attached itself to her comment. Amelia looked at Lady Everly and the dowager duchess. Both were now giving her their full attention, and since there was nothing else for it if she wanted Coventry to help her, she didn’t hesitate for another second, plunging headfirst into the subject at hand.
“I have purchased a house.”
Lady Everly blinked while the dowager duchess stared back at Amelia with obvious confusion. “A house?” she asked.
Amelia nodded. “That is, I still need to make one more payment, but once I do, it will be mine.”
“I do not understand,” Lady Everly remarked. “A house is not something one happens to buy when one goes shopping.”
“Most young ladies would settle for ribbons,” the dowager duchess murmured, upon which Coventry coughed.
Amelia darted a look in his direction and saw he was smirking. Actually, he looked as though he was trying not to, which resulted in an odd twist of his mouth and a puckering of his cheek,
but there was no denying the smirk nonetheless. It was there.
“I saw it advertised in the Mayfair Chronicle, so I went to visit Mr. Gorrell, the solicitor in charge of the sale,” Amelia explained. “The building was inherited by a spinster who died earlier this year. She had no one to leave it to, so she told Mr. Gorrell to do with it as he pleased, and he elected to sell it.”
“Mr. Gorrell, you say?” The dowager duchess glanced at her son. “Isn’t he the cunning sort?”
“Yes,” Coventry said without commenting further.
But that one word was enough to unsettle Amelia and make her feel stupid for not inquiring about Mr. Gorrell before entering into a business arrangement with him. Perhaps then she might have avoided getting cheated.
“Where is this house of yours located then?” Lady Everly asked.
“At the end of High Street. Right where it intersects with Bainbridge.”
“But that is in St. Giles!” Lady Everly’s face had morphed into a stricken expression of absolute shock.
“Almost,” Amelia said, “but not quite.”
Lady Everly stared at her. “I would say it is close enough.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Does your brother know about this?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Coventry asked in a dry tone that suggested she’d best come clean right away. “You told me he gave you an advance on your allowance, so I naturally assumed he was fully informed about every detail.”
“Well . . .” Amelia did her best not to lower her gaze or fidget while she sat there, the subject of three inquisitive gazes. “He knows I planned to purchase a house in need of a few minor repairs.”
“A few minor repairs?” Coventry asked in stunned disbelief.
“I told him it was a good investment opportunity, and since he knows how . . . unfulfilled I’ve felt since moving here, he agreed to support me in this endeavor.”
“Because he probably thinks you were looking to buy one of the older houses in Mayfair, do a few touch-ups and sell it for profit.”
Amelia couldn’t deny Coventry’s accusation. The fact was, she hadn’t been completely honest with Raphe for the simple reason she’d wanted to work this out on her own. The less he knew about it, the less he’d interfere or deny her.
“I never mentioned its exact location.” She’d told him it was on High Street, just not where.
The maid entered at that exact moment, bustling about as she set down the tray and distributed cups and saucers. When she’d left the room again, Amelia reached for the teapot, happy to have something with which to distract herself for a moment. She poured coffee for Coventry next and then offered them all a biscuit.
“Amelia,” Lady Everly said. She picked up her teacup and cradled the delicate china between her hands. “I would like to know what you plan to do next. From what I have been able to gather from this surprising conversation, you still owe Mr. Gorrell some money and the house you have purchased is not in a particularly good state. Correct?”
“Yes, my lady. I have yet to give Mr. Gorrell another two thousand five hundred pounds.”
“Good heavens,” the dowager duchess breathed.
“Since Lady Amelia finds herself a little short on money,” Coventry said, “I have offered to supply the necessary funds.”
“As a loan, I hope,” the dowager duchess said.
Coventry leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. “As a donation.”
His mother stared at him. “You are as cracked in the head as she is! One does not donate such a large sum of money, no matter how wealthy one might be, unless it is to support a viable cause.”
“And I believe this may well be such a cause.”
For the first time since this conversation had begun, Amelia felt supported and understood, which in turn eased her nerves, producing a state of calm that would surely see her through this. Her appreciation for Coventry’s assistance in that moment could not have been greater.
“I cannot wait to hear how,” Lady Everly said.
Coventry met Amelia’s gaze and gave a quick nod. “Go ahead. Explain it.”
“What I wish to do is create a school.” She then spoke of her own experiences growing up in that part of town and how difficult it had been, of how little education the poor children received and how this limited their chances of ever making more of their lives and escaping the poverty they were born into. “It’s an unfair world, but if I can do this, then there might be a little bit of hope for a tiny corner of it.”
“There is no denying the goodness of your heart, Lady Amelia,” the dowager duchess said. “I can think of no other young lady who would go through so much trouble in order to accomplish something like this for others.”
“It is an important project,” Coventry added. “That is the reason for my donation, Mama, although it does come with a few conditions—one of them being that Lady Amelia had to tell the two of you about it.”
“You were wise to make her do so,” Lady Everly said. “With our support, I have no doubt this school will have the beginning it deserves, though I do think it might be prudent to discuss the financial aspects of such a project and the specifics of eventually running a business like this.”
“Which leads us to my second condition.” Meeting Amelia’s gaze, Coventry quietly asked, “Is your business plan ready?”
Unable to hide her enthusiasm, Amelia excused herself in order to go and fetch it. She’d barely slept a wink the night after the ball since she’d expected to make her presentation the following day. When that hadn’t happened, she’d used the extra time to put a bit more work into the plan, adding a few sketches and floor plans for visual effect. “Here it is,” she said when she returned to the parlor.
Coventry’s mouth fell open as he watched her enter the room with rolls of paper bundled under her arms and three folders clutched between her hands. He quickly rose to help her, gathering a few of the items when they began to fall to the floor.
“As you can see, I have quite a few things to show you.” She was pleased to see their surprised expressions and hoped they’d soon come to realize she hadn’t bought the house without thinking a few things through.
Resuming her seat, she picked up one of the folders and opened it. Inside were the papers she’d received from Mr. Gorrell—information on the year in which the house had been built, its size, the number of rooms and other features, along with the previous owner’s tax payments and overall cost of running the home. These numbers had been neatly listed on a thick stack of paper compiled over the course of three decades.
“Having these accounts has been useful,” Amelia said, handing the folder to Coventry. “It has made my calculations easier since I have no experience otherwise with running a house this size. Naturally, the teachers’ salaries will be a bit higher than a maid’s—more on par with that of the housekeeper, I should think.”
“That will probably depend on each teacher’s qualifications,” Lady Everly pointed out.
Agreeing with her, Amelia picked up the second folder.
“After seeing the house for the first time a couple of weeks ago, I decided to work out an estimate for the cost of repairs.” Coventry looked up from the papers he was leafing through with eyes that brightened with interest. “So I went to visit a roofer, a glazier, two carpenters and a few laborers.”
Lady Everly shook her head in dismay. “When on earth did you find the time?”
Amelia shrugged. “It wasn’t so hard to do. A great deal can be achieved if one rises early enough in the morning.” When nobody commented on that, Amelia picked up a folder. “Their offers are listed here, complete with descriptions of each item requiring attention.” She passed the folder to Coventry, whose expression turned to one of surprise as he studied the information she’d gathered. “The cheapest estimate I could come up with,” Amelia continued, “is three hundred pounds. The most expensive would be roughly eight. It all depends on the qu
ality of the materials used and which laborers we hire.”
“You figured all of this out in just a couple of weeks?” Coventry asked.
Amelia shrugged. “I do not lack determination.”
“Indeed you do not,” Lady Everly said with a sly smile that suggested she might be very impressed by Amelia’s accomplishment thus far.
The dowager duchess seemed to share her opinion. “You would make a fantastic secretary.” A touch of humor sparkled in her eyes.
“And here,” Amelia said, because she wasn’t anywhere near being done yet, “are my notes on how I plan to finish each room with the individual cost marked down. There’s a list of the teachers who will have to be hired along with an outline of the courses I’d like the school to provide. Mathematics and English will be primary subjects along with history, geography and science. Additionally, I would like to include basic French, some art and an introduction to philosophy and logic. The students will be mixed—boys with girls for the sake of efficiency—though gender specific classes like woodwork and cooking will be taught separately.”
“This is quite an innovative plan,” Coventry said. Head lowered over the papers still resting in his lap, he picked up a biscuit and bit into it before looking up at Amelia. “I don’t believe there will be another school like it.”
“If you pull off this vision of yours, my dear,” Lady Everly said, “the aristocracy might even be hoping to send their children there.”
Smiling, Amelia shook her head. “It is not for them, I’m afraid. I will not allow wealthy children who can afford to attend Harrow or Eton to steal spots from the poor. And besides, I doubt they will want to share a class with someone who is not of their own social standing.”
The dowager duchess frowned. “I suspect you might be right about that.”
Agreeing, Lady Everly said, “Let us talk about how you intend to acquire the necessary funds to run this place. If you want it to be free, as I imagine you do, you will need more than Coventry’s donation.”
The Duke of Her Desire: Diamonds in the Rough Page 10