Heiress in red silk, p.25
Heiress in Red Silk, page 25
She nodded. “Once she was better, she left.” She slipped out of his embrace and faced him. “There it is. I needed you to know.”
They continued strolling the path. They passed a lantern and she looked over at him. His fine profile had set itself into an expression she knew well. He contemplated something. Her, most likely. The rash proposal he had made.
“If you worked there, you were probably seen,” he said. “Most servants would not be noticed, but I doubt that was how it was with you.”
He had seen the problem, and why it mattered as much as it did.
“Were there misunderstandings, on the part of the patrons?”
“That is a nice way to say it, Kevin. There were a few. Two men asked Mrs. Darling about me. It was a good amount of money, but I said no. Another man saw me as I tended a chamber and he did not bother going to Mrs. Darling. I called out, and two of the women came and set him to rights. If there were others, I did not learn about it.” She stopped in her tracks and faced him. “I did not whore, even once, if that is what you are asking.”
“I wasn’t.”
“It sounded as if you were. I don’t mind. You would need to know.”
“I did need to know, but not for the reason you think.”
They had arrived back at the entrance to the path. Darkness on one side of them, and lamps and lanterns on the other. He looked down at her. “You are uncommonly brave and honest to have told me this.”
“You already knew.”
“You didn’t know that I knew. What was the question you had for me?”
She hesitated. He had accepted her at face value, so to speak. He trusted that her time at that house had been as she said. He believed her. She did not doubt that during his intense contemplation while they strolled, he had considered every complication her past might cause to him and his life.
To now ask him if he’d killed his uncle would be the worst insult. A betrayal. What would be gained by it? If he was the sort to do such a thing, he was the sort to lie about it.
It all came down to what she believed. What she trusted. Whether she accepted what she thought he was, as she had come to know him.
She hoped her better sense was not deserting her, the way it had with Charles. “I only wanted to ask if you still thought this marriage of convenience a good idea.”
He lifted her hand and bent to kiss it. “I think it is an excellent idea.”
“We should do it then, before one of us realizes we are insane.”
Chapter Nineteen
They married a week later, in a quiet ceremony at St. George’s. Rosamund wore a cream dress she had ordered upon her return from Paris.
Attendance was sparse. Minerva, Chase, and Hollinburgh were there, along with Rosamund’s maid, Jenny. No one else from Kevin’s family came, not even his father.
When Rosamund turned after saying the vows, she saw Beatrice at the back of the church. She had worried that her friend would not like this marriage, but Beatrice gave a little wave and a smile before immediately slipping out. Rosamund wondered if Kevin had noticed her.
Rosamund’s only regret was that Lily could not be with her. She had written with the news, however, and received a response in which her sister expressed excitement for her. Lily probably was relieved that her older sister had not ended up a fallen woman.
Minerva hosted the wedding breakfast out in her garden. The weather held, and a lot of joy and good wishes surrounded that table. Finally, she and Kevin rode back to her house to start this marriage they had chosen.
She was up in her chamber when Kevin entered. Jenny slipped out at once.
He took her in his arms and gave her a much better kiss than the discreet one after the ceremony. “So here we are.”
“Do you feel strange? I do.”
“Most strange. Forever is a long time.”
“I was thinking the same thing during the ceremony.”
Jenny had started undressing her. Now Kevin turned her around to complete the task of unfastening her dress. “I saw one of the women from Mrs. Darling’s house at the church. Did you invite her?”
“She never would have come if I hadn’t.” She suddenly realized why he had asked. “She was not there for you, if you were worried that she was.”
His fingers stilled on her back, then continued. “Then you know about that.”
“I do. She and I remain friends.”
“I thought they only bought bonnets from you.”
“She was very kind to me when I was there. She was probably the only friend I had in London at the time.”
“I will not be seeing her again, in case you wondered. Even if I ever break my promise to you, it will not be with her.”
He slid down the dress. She stepped out and faced him. “I know. She would not have you now, even if you did go there. She may be a whore, but she understands friendship.” She looked down at his fingers unlacing her half stays. “She gave you the highest recommendation, though. She said you knew what you were about.”
He gave her a charming half smile. “Did she now? How generous.”
“Of course, I already knew that.”
“Actually, you don’t know the half of it, darling.” The stays fell to the floor.
“Perhaps you should be another of my tutors and teach me at least half of it.”
His fingertips skimmed over her freed breasts, drawing lines on the chemise that covered them still. “That is a splendid idea. Today we will have lesson one.”
* * *
The caller was announced ten days later. After breakfast, Kevin had gone to the small study attached to the library. A footman later interrupted to deliver a card. Annoyed that he had been disturbed on the first day he could concentrate in over a week, Kevin set aside the sketches he was toying with and went up to the drawing room.
Rosamund was there, along with the man whose card he held, Mr. Theodore Lovelace.
The man’s back was to him, but he garnered what he could from that view. Ginger-haired. Big. He had the looks of a laborer to him, with his broad shoulders and thick form. One visible hand showed calluses and scars. His coats were of high quality, however.
“Here he is,” Rosamund said. “This is Mr. Kevin Radnor, whom you asked to see.”
Kevin positioned himself to welcome Mr. Lovelace and get a full view. Rough-hewn. Craggy face. Gray eyes. But a smile broke out, and those eyes twinkled as he stood to make a greeting.
“Mr. Lovelace has a mutual friend with us,” Rosamund said.
“Who might that be?”
Lovelace beamed. “Mr. Forestier. In Paris.”
“Forestier? Are you saying he gave you my name?”
“He did indeed, sir.”
“How do you know him?”
“Met him, I did. Was in Paris myself. It was a holiday, but men talk, and his name was mentioned as someone with good knowledge of machines and such. That’s my trade. I’ve a factory in Shropshire and a smaller works out farther on the Thames here.”
“What kinds of machines?”
“All kinds. I’ve a knack with them. Some we make for others. Some I devise myself. I’ve a new one I’m making, to be used in textile factories, but it has a little problem, and I called on Forestier to see if he might have some solution.”
“How did my name enter the conversation?”
“He said you were a man with similar interests and such. He said you might have an idea for the problem, what with your experience.” He reached in his pocket and withdrew a long paper. “I’ve a drawing here that—”
“Did Forestier say anything else about me?”
Lovelace blanched at the tone of that question. Rosamund sent Kevin a disapproving look. Kevin forced some control over his suspicions and tried a more congenial voice. “I’m just curious what he said that convinced you to seek me out.”
Lovelace smiled again. “He said you were an inventor, so you might think of the way a solution required.”
“That is all?”
“Well, he might’ve said that perhaps we could do some business together. What with your inventions and my foundry works.”
Kevin barely saw Lovelace now, his head had gone so hot. “Among the machines you make, do you construct engines?”
The man misunderstood. He grinned. “I do at that. Here I mostly make the molds for the casting of iron, as required for them and other machines. Shropshire is where I make the engines whole.”
Kevin thought his mind would explode. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. Good day.” He strode out of the drawing room, ready to kill someone. Forestier preferably, but the scoundrel was in Paris.
Light footsteps hurried up behind him and caught him at the stairs.
“What is wrong with you?” Rosamund hissed. “That was rude to the point of cruelty.”
“He is the competitor who cost us two thousand, not to mention a percentage of profits.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I? I wonder what Forestier told him about what we have.”
“Do not be so fast to assume betrayal, Kevin. It sounded to me as if Forestier truly thought you might see a solution where he did not, and that he also thought Mr. Lovelace might be of use in our own enterprise.”
He shook off the hand she had on his arm. “I’m not interested.”
“It can’t hurt to listen. It may come to nothing, but we should at least—”
“Damnation, no.”
She narrowed her eyes. She backed up two paces. Then she turned and strode back to the drawing room.
That night, when he retired to his chambers, he found a long sheet of paper propped on the dressing table. He stared at it while his valet helped him undress.
“Mrs. Radnor brought that, sir,” Morris said while he set aside the waistcoat.
Kevin picked it up and held it to the light. It looked like the drawing Lovelace had taken from his pocket.
He had not seen Rosamund since she marched back into the drawing room. She had spent the afternoon at her shop, and had had dinner sent up to her apartment. He had spent the time immersed in thoughts on an idea he had for a new invention. Even so, he had not missed the brittle silence that permeated the house.
Now he examined the paper. There was no note with it, but he read her message all the same.
Cursing, he threw himself onto the divan and held up the damned paper so the lamp on the table beside him illuminated the drawings. Thus did women win their battles. Weaker sex, hell. Men didn’t stand a chance.
* * *
Rosamund turned on her bed and snuggled against her pillow. No, not a pillow.
An arm moved to surround her.
No wonder her fitful sleep had turned peaceful. “You’re here,” she murmured.
“Do you mind?”
She shook her head and drifted in the peace his embrace always gave her. She was so glad he had come. She had spent the evening full of self-righteous anger, but by the time she retired, she had worried that he wouldn’t even care about the distance she had imposed. More likely he would find her pique irritating and boring.
Perhaps he had. Maybe he had not even noticed her absence. Right now, she didn’t care because his embrace made her heart so happy for their special friendship.
Not friendship, her heart’s voice said. Call it love, because that is what you feel.
“The problem with his machine is simple to fix once you give it some thought. I will send him the solution I propose.”
Machine? Solution? Oh yes. Mr. Lovelace.
“That is nice of you.”
She felt him kiss the top of her head. “Think nothing of it.”
* * *
Rosamund walked to her shop, eager to do something besides practice elocution or manners. Her tutors had a habit of congratulating her, but it always sounded as if they praised themselves instead. She had improved much in the month of lessons, and they saw her as one of their creations, much as the new hat she was finishing was one of hers.
Upon arriving at the shop, she immediately went to the workroom. The apprentice, Sally, labored over trimming a headpiece. Rosamund checked her work, then sat to finish her own.
The hat used some of the ideas she had carried back from Paris in her reticule. The brim was uneven, and deeper on one side than the other. The larger side curved up, and she had split the brim there in three places. That allowed the plumes on the crown to show through to the front, and also gave the hat a different flair.
Covering those split sections had been a challenge. She carefully picked out the stitches on one of them and began to redo it.
Mrs. Ingram entered. “There’s someone asking for you in front.”
“Not a local businessman, I trust. My marriage was announced.”
“Nothing like that. Mr. Walter Radnor and his wife.”
Surprised, Rosamund set aside her trimming and made her way to the front of the shop.
Felicity waited there, dressed very fashionably and wearing a hat Jameson’s had not made. Walter hovered near her, looking pompous and vaguely uncomfortable. Felicity saw her and fluttered over.
“What a charming shop. Such interesting hats.”
Rosamund welcomed them, then waited with curiosity. When they both kept ambling around her establishment, she moved in and forced the question. “How can I help you? Have you come to commission something, Mrs. Radnor?”
“I think that you can address me as Felicity now, because we are related.”
“How generous of you.”
Felicity glanced at her husband.
He offered a hearty, bland smile. “We want you to know that we have accommodated ourselves to the marriage. What’s done is done.”
“How good of you.”
“Yes, well, about that, however.” He glanced around, his gaze returning repeatedly to the window. “Is there somewhere we can talk alone?”
“Come with me.” She led the way up to the first story and the space in front that the shop used. She had installed a divan and some chairs there, along with the necessities for fitting headwear.
“We called at your home, but were told you were here,” Felicity said after sitting on the divan.
Rosamund wondered who had told them that.
“Do you think this is wise?” Walter asked. “Continuing in trade now that you are wed is neither necessary nor appropriate.”
“Did the family send you to instruct me? If my husband does not mind, why should you?”
“Kevin has never been careful about social expectations,” Felicity said soothingly. “Walter is only trying to help you. Isn’t that right, darling?”
Walter nodded.
“Then you have done your duty.” Rosamund stood. “Now, I have a full day and—”
“Actually, we wanted to talk about something else,” Walter said while he half-rose himself.
Rosamund sat back down.
“Your marriage settlement—How did that address this enterprise of Kevin’s?” Walter asked.
“That is more private than I want to discuss.”
“Did you leave it that he is your heir?” Felicity asked. “I did tell you not to do that.”
“My dear, please don’t divert the conversation,” Walter said. “That is neither here nor there to our purposes.”
“Perhaps you will explain what is here or there,” Rosamund said.
Walter shifted how he sat. “Here is the thing. When almost a year had passed and you were not found, we assumed you would not be. That you were . . .”
“Dead?”
“Or had moved abroad. America,” Felicity added quickly.
“It was a fair conclusion,” Walter said. “I took it upon myself on behalf of the family to find out what that enterprise might be worth, should the legacy be divided up. I was surprised that while the details of Kevin’s invention are not known, there are those whose estimation of my cousin’s mind is quite high and who would purchase a share of something they knew nothing about, simply because it was his idea.”
Rosamund had been ready to usher them out, but now she was glad she hadn’t. What a stunning thing to hear. “This was a recent discovery, you said.”
“Recent enough.” Walter’s face tinged pink for an instant.
“Perhaps you looked into this earlier. When you thought Kevin might be arrested.”
Walter looked shocked, but not at her accusation. At her guessing what he had done.
“It was a reasonable thing to do,” Felicity said, with unctuous sweetness touched with enough beseeching plea to be irritating.
“Whenever it was done, I don’t see why you need to talk to me about it.”
They looked at each other, then at her, then at each other again. Felicity turned a big smile on Rosamund. “We want you to turn the company back to the estate. Not the money, just the company. Our share of that is far less than the money, but it is something.”
“It would benefit Kevin, because he really is not experienced in business and would be wise to have investors who are,” Walter added.
“I would think it would benefit your marriage too, to remove that partnership from it. It can’t be a good thing to have that between you.” Felicity’s expression turned sly. “And if that was why he married you, well, he is well caught now anyway.”
“Yet you just told me it has value, even without being fully realized yet.”
“Quite small compared to the rest you have,” Walter hastened to say. “It is like a puddle is to an ocean.”
Rosamund forced her mind to step away five paces, so she might see this peculiar visit for what it might really be about. Once she viewed it fully, the oddness started making sense.
“Tell me something. Upon learning about its value, and assuming I would not be found, did you trade on your expectations?”
“What do you mean?” Walter asked.
“Did you sell your share before you had it in hand? I can think of no other reason why twice now I have been encouraged by one or both of you to turn my halfback to the estate. As you say, its loss to the rest of you is like a puddle. Were you so confident it would be yours that you sold it in advance of receiving it?”
Walter’s expression revealed the truth. Felicity tried to mask her surprise with hauteur.
