Destiny with a duke, p.14
Destiny with a Duke, page 14
“Thank you again for keeping my identity a secret,” Finch told his agent.
“It has been profitable for us both, Your Grace.”
“Good day.”
He went to Haggersby and told him the two paintings he wanted delivered to Lord Weldon’s residence, addressed to Victoria. One was of the water which she had favored. The other showed a field of wildflowers which she had seemed partial to. She could decide which to give to her aunt and uncle and keep one for herself.
“These should be sent this afternoon—but only after four o’clock,” he specified.
Finch did not want Victoria home when the paintings came but rather have them waiting to surprise her when she returned from tea at his mother’s.
Haggersby recorded the address and Victoria’s name. “I will see they are delivered as requested, Your Grace. Anything else?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes. The remainder of the Findlays are to be sent to my townhouse.”
“All of them?” the gallery owner asked, his shock evident.
“Yes. I have taken quite a fancy to them.” He paused. “No, leave one of them behind. You may select any you wish. And put out the word how valuable a Findlay is becoming.”
Haggersby now beamed with pride. “I can do that, Your Grace. Thank you ever so much. And should I contact you if I receive any more Findlays from Mr. Leigh?”
Finch bit back a smile. “Yes. Feel free to do so.”
He returned to his carriage and asked to be taken home, where he entered his study and looked over documents sent to him by his solicitor. Once he had approved them and sent a footman to return the copies to Mr. Pole, he sat back in his chair, his hands behind his head, his feet propped upon his desk.
He supposed he needed to make an appointment with the younger Pole regarding his idea of a charity and forming an art school. Finch had dealt exclusively with Pole since becoming the Duke of Sommersby since the elder Pole’s health was in further decline. He would share with Pole his idea. Creating the school and scholarships energized him as he sat and thought about it.
And involvement with it would take his mind off Victoria and her eventual husband.
For now, though, he needed to return to her uncle’s townhouse in order to escort her to tea with his mother. Finch was grateful Victoria had agreed to go with him. Things were still shaky with Mama. Having Victoria there to smooth the way eased his mind.
When he arrived, she had changed from her earlier gown to a new one. The sky blue shade once again highlighted her auburn hair. Her maid lingered in the background.
Finch said, “Betsy, no need for you to come. I arrived in my curricle so things will be above board.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the servant said, bobbing a curtsey to him and leaving.
He led Victoria outside and climbed into the curricle before lifting her up and settling her upon the seat. Once he sat and took up the reins, he couldn’t help but relish the subtle scent of violets that clung to her and the warmth of her side pressed against his.
They arrived at Lord Wallingford’s residence and instead of being taken to the drawing room, they were led to a small parlor, where Lord Wallingford and Mama waited. A young lady also was present and he assumed this to be their daughter.
The earl and countess rose and greeted him and Victoria and then Wallingford said, “And may I present Lady Nia, your half-sister?”
She had the same shade of blond hair and bright, blue eyes as he did.
“Your Grace,” she said, dropping into a deep curtsey and rising, then greeting Victoria.
“I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Nia. I hope you will call me Finch.”
Her eyes grew large. Then without warning, she flung her arms about him, hugging him tightly.
“Oh, thank you, Your Grace. That is, Finch. Oh, this is marvelous.” She pulled away and beamed at him and then hugged him again before releasing him.
“Nia,” her father chided, but Finch could see that he didn’t truly scold the girl.
“I can’t help it, Father. I have heard about Finch and now he is here. He’s really here!”
“Come, let us sit,” Mama suggested. “I see the teacart has arrived.”
They did as requested and his mother poured out for them.
“I highly recommend the blueberry scones, Sommersby,” the earl said. “They are the best thing our cook bakes.”
Finch bit into one and nodded in approval. “You are quite right. Delicious, my lord.”
“Will you be making your come-out soon?” Victoria asked Nia.
“Yes, my lady. Next year. I am seventeen, soon to turn eighteen. Mama said I can do so then. And now I have Finch and my other brothers to look after me when I do,” she said with enthusiasm. “What is the Season like?” Nia asked. “Tell me everything, Finch.”
He chuckled. “Since this is my first Season, I don’t know as much as Lady Pemberton might.” He looked to Victoria.
“It is a social whirl,” Victoria said, proceeding to tell Nia about the various activities and events held. She described the different kinds of parties and ended with discussing the different types of balls and dances danced.
“I have a dance master,” Nia confided. “He is very particular and constantly criticizing me but Mama says I must put up with him and learn all I can.”
“No one should be taught under those circumstances,” he proclaimed. “Perhaps we should find you a new dance master.”
“How did you learn to dance if you were a vicar?” Nia asked. “Mama says you lived in the country and had a parish for several years.”
“I did once I left university. As for dancing, my friend’s wife taught me several dances, including the waltz, before this Season began.”
“Is it one of the duchesses?” Nia persisted. “Mama says you are friends with four dukes! I cannot imagine being in such illustrious company.”
Finch laughed. “Well, we were all boys at school together, long before any of us became a duke. In fact, we are all second sons and none of us should have been named as duke. Fate stepped in, however, and changed things for the five of us.”
“These dukes were your friends at Turner Academy?” Mama asked.
“Yes. I met them my first day there and we have remained fast friends ever since. They all went to war, while I remained in England and served in the church.”
“Did you—” Nia began but her father interrupted her.
“Would you like to see our gardens, Lady Pemberton? They are quite lovely this time of year.”
“Yes, I would, my lord. I enjoy gardening myself. I say there is nothing like digging in the dirt.”
Lord Wallingford rose, as did Victoria, and the earl said, “Come and join us, Nia.”
She started to protest but her father flashed her a warning look and she agreed to come.
Once the trio had left the drawing room, Mama said, “I hope you don’t mind spending some time alone with me, Finch.”
“No, Mama. Not at all.”
“I must apologize to you again for not being stronger,” she began. “When your father was killed in India, a part of me died along with him. He was so young and my entire world. I tried to muzzle my grief as I got you boys back to England. We went to Sommerville because that is what your father would have wanted.”
Mama frowned. “The old duke frightened me terribly. He immediately let me know that he would be charge of everything, from what you boys wore to your education, and that if I disagreed, I would be out on my ear and never see either of you again.” She sighed. “So I stepped aside and let him have full rein. I knew you were unhappy, Finch. Cyril, as well, to a certain extent. But I feared speaking up and being cut off from you.”
He thought if she had tried to interfere that things would not have changed. Sommersby would have the law on his side. Mama could have been thrown out, winding up on the streets without any money or skills.
“I will admit that I was angry about it for a long time,” he said. “Until recently. Lady Pemberton asked me to see things from your point of view. I looked at the situation with the eyes of an adult and not a small boy. I see you had no choice, Mama. Sommersby was all-powerful. He would have squashed you as a bug without any regret.”
Tears began to fall down her cheeks and he handed her his handkerchief. She wiped her eyes.
“I thought with your grandfather gone that things would change. Cyril was now the duke. But he was underage, of course. Cousin Leonard swept in and as the eldest in the family, he was your guardian. He was a man cut from the same cloth as your grandfather, one who refused to be challenged, much less by a woman. I hated that he sent you away, Finch. I have lived with that regret every day of my life.”
He stroked her back as she wept, reassuring her that she had no choice.
“We do have a choice now, Mama. We can decide to move forward and not look back. This can be a new start for us.”
She gazed up at him, hope filling her eyes. “Do you truly think so, Finch?”
“I know so. I am glad you found happiness with Lord Wallingford and that you had Nia and your stepsons.”
“I think I was a better mother to them. I learned from my mistakes.” She smiled through watery eyes and took his hands. “Thank you, Finch. Thank you for giving me a second chance.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” he said, thinking not only of Mama—but Victoria.
She and the others returned a short time later and Lady Nia immediately asked, “You will come back, won’t you, Finch?”
“I promise to become a regular visitor. In fact, I think the next time I come, we shall practice dancing together.”
Nia clapped her hands, joy on her face.
“When the boys return from university, we will have a family dinner,” his mother declared.
Finch wondered what it would be like to once again be a part of a family.
Chapter Fifteen
Victoria entered the Weldon townhouse after saying goodbye to Finch. She had thoroughly enjoyed herself at tea and could see how he warmed up to his mother. As for Lady Nia, she had proven to be a delight. So uninhibited and full of charm. Victoria thought that his half-sister would be the bridge between Finch and his mother. She was happy he had accepted Lady Nia so readily and also seemed to look forward to meeting Lord Wallingford’s sons.
She had told everyone they needed to depart once Lady Wallingford began talking about a family dinner. Victoria feared that the countess might include her in the invitation and so she managed their escape. She did not want to give Lady Wallingford or anyone the wrong idea about her relationship with Finch.
Of course, she had no idea herself what their relationship was.
On the way home, he had seemed distant to her. She hadn’t asked him about what he and his mother spoke of while she toured the gardens with Lord Wallingford and Lady Nia. Victoria thought it wonderful that the earl had given the pair time alone to speak. It would be in those small moments where the healing between them began. It still left Victoria uncertain, though, about what Finch wanted with her.
Did he see a future with her? Or was she merely a distraction from the overwhelming Season because she asked nothing of him in return? She hadn’t a clue but hoped he would speak his mind to her soon, one way or the other. Either Finch needed to press his suit with her or release her from any time spent together. She realized he was a powerful duke, one of a handful in all of England. If he wasn’t interested in offering for her, then he needed to step aside.
If he did, it would break her heart.
Betsy rushed up. “Something came for you, my lady. It’s waiting for you in your bedchamber.”
Victoria frowned. She had not ordered any new gowns or hats and wondered what might be delivered to her.
“There are two of them,” her maid continued. “So heavy that two footmen had to carry them up.”
“Thank you, Betsy. I will see to it now. Please tell my aunt that I will not be down for dinner before we leave for the musicale. I had a hearty tea and have had a full day. I believe I will nap for a while. Please awaken me an hour before we are to leave. You can help me dress then.”
Disappointment filled the servant’s face but she nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
Continuing upstairs, Victoria supposed Betsy wanted to be there as the packages were opened. The maid could see whatever had arrived when she came to prepare Victoria for tonight’s musicale at Viscount and Viscountess Bagwell’s townhouse. A German soprano had been scheduled to sing, accompanied by a well-known pianist. She wondered if Finch would be there. He hadn’t mentioned seeing her this evening and she hoped he would be in attendance because she really wanted to clear things up between them once and for all.
Reaching her bedchamber, she entered and closed the door behind her. As she entered her the room, she saw the two crates sitting on the floor. From their shape, she had an idea of what might be in them. A sinking feeling filled her with dread.
She rang for a footman and when he arrived, she told him she needed help opening the crates.
“Be right back, my lady,” he said. “All it will take is a hammer.”
Victoria paced the bedchamber until he returned. The footman flipped the hammer’s head around and used it to pry the nails from the wood. He lifted it away and she saw some kind of stuffing within the crate to secure what lay inside, which was wrapped in brown paper.
As the footman went to the second crate, she used her fingernails to tear away a small section of the wrapping. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it was the Walter Findlay painting she had most admired.
What was Finch thinking?
Already, Victoria knew some in the ton still gossiped about her, thanks to Pemberton’s murder last year. If news got out that the Duke of Sommersby had sent Lady Pemberton two expensive paintings, the gossips would feast upon the wildly inappropriate gesture. A lady did not accept gifts from anyone other than her husband. To do so would imply a relationship between her and Finch which simply did not exist.
“Stop,” she said firmly as the footman removed the lid from the second crate.
She couldn’t accept these paintings without ruining her reputation. She certainly couldn’t send them back to Finch, thanks to the network of servants who gossiped as much as those of the ton.
“I have changed my mind,” she told the servant. “Please secure the lids again to both crates. They are to be returned to the art gallery first thing tomorrow morning.”
She provided the footman with the address, knowing it was too late in the day to get the Findlays back to Mr. Haggersby’s gallery. It was easier to let the servants think her mercurial and return the paintings to the gallery rather than to Finch himself. If he were at tonight’s musicale, she would inform him that his property was with Mr. Haggersby and he could either claim it there or ask the gallery owner for a refund.
“Yes, my lady,” the footman said, rising from his crouched position. “I’ll need to fetch a few more nails. Some of these were bent as I removed them. And I’ll need help carrying them downstairs.”
“Just do it quickly,” she told him.
He nodded and left the bedchamber. Victoria tried her best never to overwork a servant but, in this case, she would have to pretend to have changed her mind. It would cause more work but she couldn’t risk the damage to her reputation.
She continued to pace until two footmen returned. They made quick work of securing the lids and carried the crates from her room. Closing the door, she lay down on her bed to rest. Sleep did not come. Only a numbness filled her.
Victoria remained that way until Betsy came to prepare her for the evening’s event. If she could have done so, she would have remained home, claiming a headache. Instead, she needed to attend and set Finch straight. If he didn’t show up at the Bagwells’ musicale, she would come home and write to him. Even that would be frowned upon if word of her actions got out, a single woman writing to a bachelor. She thought on it, wondering if she should send the note to one of her new friends, asking if her husband might deliver it to Finch.
In the end, she decided she would wait and speak to Finch in person. That way, there would be no trace or record of the incident in writing.
Betsy chose a red dress for this evening’s outing and dressed Victoria’s hair high on her head, with small wisps of curls framing her face. She went downstairs and met Uncle Herman.
“Are you ready to hide your boredom?” she teased, knowing he was not the least bit interested in music and only attended tonight for her sake.
“I shall sit in the last row and close my eyes. If I begin to snore, I am sure your aunt will nudge me delicately so I will not embarrass either of you.”
Victoria stepped to him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for going to all of these events for my benefit.”
“It’s not so bad,” he told her.
Aunt Hermione joined them. “Oh, that red is absolutely lovely on you, my dear. The men will be falling over themselves tonight, I do believe. Especially Sommersby.”
“I don’t think I will be encouraging the duke, Aunt,” she said. “I find that we don’t suit as well as I thought we would.”
“Oh.” Aunt Hermione looked taken aback. “I see.” Then she brightened. “Well, there are still several worthy candidates for your hand, Victoria.”
“I hope so.”
*
Finch stepped from his townhouse in order to wait for Donovan’s carriage. Nerves filled him. He had never gone into battle as his friends had but he wondered if the feelings he now experienced were somehow similar. It felt as if he would need to call up all the courage he possessed to talk with Victoria tonight. He must let her down gently without bruising her feelings. She needed to know nothing was wrong with her. It was he who wanted to cut ties and give her the opportunity to find the husband she was looking for.
He glanced up and saw not Donovan’s carriage but Miles’ approaching. It slowed and then halted in front of him. The footman lowered the stairs and Finch climbed in.
“I see I have a different means of transportation than I expected. Is something wrong with Donovan or Wynter?”
