Captivated by the Earl (Regency Romance) (Regency Tales Book 5)

by Regina Darcy

  THREE

  Strathmore left with Mr George but not before he bid farewell to Elizabeth, bending over her hand as if they had met at Almack’s rather than a shipping office on the docks. Elizabeth gave him a polite smile and tried to react as if she were not at all affected by the intent look in his eyes as he said that he looked forward to seeing her again soon.

  Elizabeth looked at her father expectantly. “Well?” she asked. “Is it not strange that a member of the aristocracy should visit us?” What she really wanted to ask was whether His Lordship would be visiting them again, because if he intended to do so, she would pay far more attention to her attire.

  “I told you, he has expressed an interest in our enterprise. He asked very pertinent questions regarding our anticipated expansion, our investors, and if I didn’t know him to be a member of the peerage, I’d easily have mistaken him for a banker. A knowledgeable man,” said Hargrave, who did not readily bestow such compliments.

  “Why is he interested in the West India docks? Mr George says his family has significant holdings in the East India Company but they are also investors in other companies.”

  “I should not be at all surprised. The Earl seems to know a great deal about trade. It’s very odd, though...”

  “What is odd?”

  “He asked if we had experienced any obstructions to our building schedule. Any unexplained delays or construction failings. I told him that one of the reasons why our group sought the building of the West India docks was because of thievery and unaccountable delays along the riverside wharves.”

  “That’s hardly a secret,” Elizabeth pointed out drily. “You were able to whet the interest of Parliament by proving that the West India docks were needed precisely because of those problems.”

  “Yes, he was aware of that. But I formed the impression that he would not be surprised if there were those who would like to see the West India docks fail.”

  “Did he name anyone in particular?”

  “No. He was, I think, deliberately vague.”

  “That troubles you?”

  “I cannot help wondering whether he came here today merely to obtain information, or to deliver a warning.”

  “A warning? How so?”

  “I don’t know... if he were opposed to the building of the docks, he would surely have made his objections known well before now, when construction is almost complete. No doubt I’m fretting over nothing. I couldn’t tell him the truth, of course.”

  “The truth about what?”

  Hargrave’s green eyes, so like his daughter’s, danced with delight. “Why, that the West India docks will make me a wealthy man. Wealthy enough to afford a generous dowry for my daughter.”

  “Papa!”

  “Did you not guess?” he asked. “It’s my dream to see you endowed with the sort of wealth that will allow you to attract an advantageous marriage.”

  “I hope you did not say so to the Earl!”

  “The Earl will look to his own for a wife,” Hargrave dismissed her comment.

  “Yes. Of course he will. Quite.”

  “And so he should. I’m not at all sure that, even if he should offer for you, I would favour a union. I’m not entirely secure in my mind about His Lordship’s motives or why he came here today. But you will find a husband, my dear, someone who suits you. This business will be yours when I am gone. Perhaps our dear friend Nathaniel Woodstock? He knows our line of business, and you and he have been acquainted for some years.”

  “Papa! Nathaniel Woodstock and I are just friends, nothing more. And besides, you have many years ahead of you,” she laughed. Her father was only in his forties; he had married young and been a father early, rising to the top of his trade by shrewdness and hard work. She could not imagine the docks without him.

  “So I hope, but it’s a wise father who provides for his daughter,” Hargrave said as he went back into his office. “And protects her,” he added, sounding as if he were warning her away from some threat that he recognised and she did not.

  Alone in the outer office, Elizabeth sat in contemplation, her figures forgotten. Her father intended this business venture to benefit her and to provide a dowry. What he failed to realise was that by waiting so long, he had condemned her to spinsterhood. Other men were not like her father, valuing her for her astute business skills and her bookkeeping talents. They sought wives who brought impressive dowries, who were pretty and trained in the domestic arts, who could supplement their husbands’ earning abilities with their social graces and accomplishments.

  At lunchtime, instead of returning home to where their housekeeper would have prepared a meal, Elizabeth made her excuses to Mr George and her father. “I have a headache,” she said. “I’m going to take a walk along the docks and blow away the cobwebs.”

  “I’ll bring you something back,” her father said, not overly concerned. Hargrave often walked the docks when he wanted to think and so it made complete sense that his daughter would seek the same remedy.

  It was a warm day in midsummer. Elizabeth put on her bonnet and draped her light shawl around her shoulders and left the office. As always, the docks were busy with activity, and even though the West India docks had not yet officially opened, the sounds of the building work formed a kind of noisy rhythm. Her father had been among the first of the investors to move his office to the new location, but other businessmen followed suit daily, populating the docks with carriages, wagons, horses, and workers all engaged in creating a commercial network. What would it be like, she wondered, when the West India docks became a major hub for London’s international shipping? She had grown up on the docks and found no other part of London as exciting. But today, her thoughts were not of the ships that would soon come bearing their cargo, but of the handsome Earl of Strathmore.

  She was being foolish, she knew. She and her father were ordinary people; there was no blue blood in their veins. She was too old to entertain notions of a man with a title who had likely not even thought of her after leaving the office.

  Elizabeth was so absorbed in her thoughts that she paid no attention to what was going on around her. It was not until she heard someone call her name that she looked around.

  “Miss Hargrave,” said the Earl of Strathmore with a bow. “What a delightful surprise. How pleasant to see you again so soon.”

  “Sir—my lord!” Elizabeth stammered. “I... good afternoon.”

  “You are surprised to see me again, I can tell. I am intrigued by your father’s prediction of a prosperous future here, and I own that I wanted to learn more.”

  “Mr George would be happy, I’m sure, to take you on another tour of the docks.”

  “The estimable Mr George told me what he thought I should know,” Strathmore said with a smile. “But he couldn’t tell what I really wanted to know.”

  “He could hardly do that,” Elizabeth pointed out. “He does not read minds.”

  “No,” the Earl sighed. “That singular trait is one more often displayed by the fair sex. We males tend to comment only on what we see, but ladies do far better with their intuition. I wonder, Miss Hargrave, if you would take me round and tell me what I might want to know, even if I am not yet aware of it.”

  Elizabeth’s heart leapt inside her. “Of course, I should be happy to oblige, but I cannot claim any special insights into what you don’t know you wish to know.”

  “Can you not, Miss Hargrave?” he persisted, his dark eyes opaque with secrets. “I think that, if you tried, you could be most successful at reading my thoughts.”

  “You mistake me, my lord. I am more familiar with accounts and numbers than the private thoughts of gentlemen.”

  “I confess that I am fascinated by you, Miss Hargrave. How is it that a lovely young woman comes to be keeping the accounts of a thriving business branch of the East India Company? Are you really what you say you are?”

  “What else could I possibly be?” she asked him, puzzled.

  “I beg your pardon.
There are no ladies of my acquaintance who can claim such mathematical abilities. In fact, I’d wager that my niece could not even tell me what a bill of lading is. I have no doubt that you, however, know exactly what I mean by such a document.” Although he smiled, his dark eyes seemed fixed on her with a mysterious intensity beyond the measure of his innocent words. She felt as if he were testing her.

  “I should hope I do,” she declared, “else we would not know what merchandise we had received nor what we should pay for it.”

  Strathmore smiled. It occurred to Elizabeth that he had a great many smiles in his quiver of charm, and while all were attractive, they seemed to possess various and independent meanings.

  “I will escort you back to your business,” he said.

  “I don’t need an escort,” she replied “I have always walked on my own.”

  “Perhaps you have, but I deem it unwise to be so bold in these uncertain times,” he said. “Humour me, even if you think me foolish, and allow me to return you to your father’s office.”

  FOUR

  Strathmore was more than merely an escort; he was a witty conversationalist who engaged her in a range of topics that ran the gamut from the East India Company’s history, the prospects of trade for the new West India docks, his niece’s preference in milliners, to the popularity of The Mysteries of Udolpho. His familiarity with the latter, he confessed, again coming through his niece, a great enthusiast of the family’s dusty old library.

  “Fiona has begun to look for supernatural evidence in the mutton which is served for supper,” he told her. “I cannot possibly keep up with her theories.” Despite his words, his tone was affectionate and it was apparent that he was very fond of his niece, no matter how silly her notions.

  “She sounds quite entertaining,” Elizabeth said as she opened the door to the office.

  “Elizabeth! Where have you been?” Her father strode to the door as she entered. Mr George, standing stolidly by the window, revealed nothing of his thoughts, but Elizabeth sensed that he shared her father’s concern. Mr George conveyed more without words than could most men by delivering speeches.

  “On the docks, of course, as I told you. I went for a walk.”

  “I met Miss Hargrave while she was taking her stroll, and begged her permission to escort her back here. She is a most intrepid young woman and disdained my offer, but I insisted. The accidents which of late have plagued the docks indicate that it is not safe for a young woman to walk alone.”

  “Yes,” Henry Hargrave said slowly. “Elizabeth never thinks of danger.’

  Elizabeth divested herself of her shawl and bonnet. “Danger? I’ve been walking the docks since I was old enough to leave my nurse behind, and as often as not, you were there to hold my hand.”

  “Yes,” her father nodded emphatically. “I was there to hold your hand. I would prefer that you take greater care.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks reddened. “I’m no silly child, you know,” she declared hotly. “Why should the West India docks suddenly present, since lunchtime, such a threat to my safety?”

  Her father was not looking at her. He was looking at Strathmore. Mr George too, had his eyes on the Earl.

  “I agree, Miss Hargrave, that most days, the docks are safe. But surely you can understand a father’s desire to protect his daughter when the docks are not yet settled. In any case, I would like to invite you both to attend an evening entertainment. My niece, of whom I spoke, is deemed something of a proficient on the pianoforte, and she will be playing tonight at our home. I would like to invite you all to come and hear her play.”

  His invitation seemed to include them all, even Mr George. But Mr George, who was aware that his status as a former slave did not provide him with an entrée into the homes of aristocrats, preferred not to join the Hargraves in social engagements, and left it to his employer to provide him with a suitably worded regret.

  “Mr George has late business tonight and will not be able to attend, but my daughter and I will be pleased to accept your invitation.”

  “Excellent. You know where I live?”

  Elizabeth knew that, if her father were not already aware of where the Earl lived, he would find out from Mr George, whose agile mind was a veritable census of London residents.

  But Strathmore provided the details and then bowed his goodbyes. Once he had left and the door was safely closed behind him, Elizabeth rounded on her father, who, knowing what was to come, was in the process of escaping to his office.

  “You knew very well that I planned to walk the docks and you made no objection. Why then, upon my return, did you deliver such an injunction against what you had known I would do? Why should I not walk along the docks as I have always done?”

  “It is not only the docks that can be unsafe. I would not have you go about alone with a man such as Strathmore.”

  “Alone?” Elizabeth demanded. “Sir, have you observed the number of people who inhabit the docks daily? I should be more alone with him if I were at a play in Drury Lane. Father, what do you mean by this concern? What is Strathmore that I should avoid him? He was here earlier and you were most genial with him, and when he escorted me back here, there was nothing objectionable in his manner or his discourse. And you accepted his invitation.”

  “As a businessman, I must maintain connections with those who can influence my endeavours. However, as a father, I must practice caution.”

  “What has happened?” Elizabeth looked from her father to Mr George; neither spoke, but she sensed that there was something shared between them that they concealed from her. “Papa, tell me! I work here with you every day. If there is something amiss, surely I should be made aware of it. I am no fainting girl fresh from the schoolroom. I have been at your side as your business has grown; you cannot force me to out of the way now because you think I’m a mere woman.”

  “Now, Elizabeth, my dear, you know how much I value your work. But sometimes I fear that I’ve treated you too much as a partner and not enough as a daughter. I’ve been imprudent.”

  “You would not speak this way if I were a son!” she exclaimed angrily. But beneath the anger, unseen, was hurt. Her father had nurtured her innate abilities in business; she had a head for figures and he had admitted that he relied on her skills. She had devoted her young womanhood to him, striving to please him and to further his success. A young man of twenty-five who dedicated his energy to his career was prized for his prudence and forethought, but a woman who did so risked being scorned as a spinster, left on the shelf. But this was her whole world; if she didn’t have this, then what did she have?

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Mr George said, forming his words slowly, thinking them through first as he always did, “something isn’t right on the docks. The West India docks aren’t open yet, and we’re hearing things.”

  “What sort of things?” she demanded.

  Mr George looked to her father.

  “Don’t look at Papa. Answer me!”

  “Elizabeth, if you’re hoping to impress me with your reason and temperament, you are going about it most curiously. You are behaving in a most womanish manner.”

  “Because I am a woman!” she retorted. “How else should I behave? Never mind, don’t answer. I’m going to go home in my womanish way; what a pity I forgot my fan and my smelling salts! Oh, but I don’t have smelling salts because I never faint. Are we accepting the Earl’s invitation to hear his niece play?”

  “Yes, of course, Strathmore is a man of business whose patronage we are seeking. We will naturally attend this event to further our contact with him; it may prove valuable.”

  “But he’s too much of a danger for me to speak with unless you and Mr George are present to chaperone me?”

  “You’re a woman,” her father said patiently. “It’s unseemly for you to be alone with him. But if you’re in an ill humour, by all means my dear, go home and rest.”

  “I’m not going to rest,” she said defiantly. “I’m going to prepare for an eve
ning in good company. I’m going to put on my finest gown and I shall arrange my hair. I shall go with you tonight not as your business partner, but as your daughter. In case you have forgotten, Papa, daughters are invariably female.”

  “I’ll summon a hackney cab for you,” Mr George said, moving to the door.

  “I will walk,” she said, putting on her bonnet.

  “Elizabeth,” her father protested.

  “I will walk,” she said firmly as she draped her shawl about her shoulders.

  Her father knew that she preferred to walk rather than ride, and that the distance was no obstacle to her. He would have to trust her good sense to keep her safe. Perhaps he decided it was not worth an argument when she seemed so willing to be contrary.

  Walking helped Elizabeth to clear her head. Usually, it was her means of working out business details, reviewing the invoices and receipts in her head until the numbers representing the profits and expenses of her father’s business created a crisp, concise portrait for her to view.

  As she strode through the docks and into the city with her purposeful gait, she felt the contentiousness within her fading away. It was, she realised, foolish to be so angry at her father. He had raised her, in the absence of a mother, with love and pride. He thought of marriage for her as something that needed to be planned for, hence his determination to provide her with a generous dowry. It had not occurred to him that waiting might have ruined her chances of making the marriage that she had dreamed of. It was, she knew, ludicrous to allow any romantic thoughts of the Earl of Strathmore to gain a footing in her dreams. Doubtless the Earl thought of her as an office drudge, with her ink-stained cuffs and her unladylike ability to keep her father’s books and manage the financial records. But tonight, for just this one night, she intended to be light-hearted, flirtatious, and beautiful.