Chapter 14

Fourteen

HART AND SUMMERS, SOLICITORS, LONDON - JUNE 13, 1816

WILLIAM

The morning after the strangest day of my life, I woke surprisingly refreshed. Considering the sheer number of things I was studiously not thinking about, it was a wonder I found sleep at all.

My back, shoulders, and bruised midsection protested when I moved wrong. Remnants of the scuffle last night. That fight… She could have been seriously injured, or worse, killed. And she held them off with an umbrella. I still couldn't decide whether to kiss her or scold her. When I considered for too long, terror and lust swirled in a bizarre combination that left me entirely discomfited.

I was dressed and downstairs far earlier than was my custom. My desk was relatively clean when I settled in my chair with my coffee. Kit really had taken care of things yesterday afternoon. That would certainly cost me.

Though not as much as the questions I had for him.

A brief glance through the main room and out the door revealed an empty bench. That caused a pang of disappointment. My little shadow had been annoying, amusing, and intriguing. But I felt her absence keenly.

I hadn't missed her in my dreams at least. In sleep, she was glorious, all gilded hair and skin, delicate curves, and sweet sighs. And desperate for me.

The kissing had gone well—more than well. But she wanted more last night. I'd never done more. Hell, I'd never had a kiss like the one at the masquerade. And unfortunately for me, my only friend was Kit.

Summoned by my reluctant thoughts, the bell chimed against the door. His usually dour expression was nowhere to be seen, and in its place, amusement.

"You seem… refreshed this morning."

"Smug does not become you, Christopher." He wandered off to the side table where we kept treats. I had not gone to Hudson's this morning, worried about the work that awaited me. His disappointed groan echoed through the empty room.

"I gave you the afternoon off; the least you could do is bring tarts."

"My name is above the door, same as yours. But I appreciate your efforts yesterday all the same."

"You can appreciate my efforts with pastries. Or one of those fancy little cake things she makes," he said, stripping his coat off and tossing it over Matthews's desk for the sole purpose of irritating the man.

Gathering my courage and dignity, I made what was sure to be a terrible choice. "I'll go now. Come with me? I have something I would like to discuss."

"I just took off my coat. What is it that you cannot discuss here?" He whined at me from across the office.

That is precisely why I want to be elsewhere, Christopher.

"I could discuss it here, I just prefer to discuss it elsewhere. It's not strictly related to our work."

"Fine, but you're buying three of those little cake things." He appeared in my doorway, his coat halfway on. I followed him out and locked up behind us.

The bakery was just down the street, and we had traversed nearly a quarter of the distance before he goaded me. "Are you planning to discuss whatever it is sometime before we get there?"

I hesitated, uncertain of where to start. Coward that I was, I started with the easiest. "I will need to step away for a few hours this afternoon."

"Again? You couldn't take care of whatever it was yesterday?"

"The circumstance only arose because of my afternoon off yesterday."

"I can manage the office. Are you going to tell me what it is? Or am I to guess?"

"I am calling on someone. A lady."

He actually froze on the pavement. When I turned, he was staring at me wide-eyed and open-mouthed. I would feel somewhat resentful of his astonishment, but even I had to admit the situation was worthy of such a reaction. "You… Who?"

"As I said, a lady."

"A… Oh! Oh! You're calling on Lady Rycliffe?" He nearly shouted the comment and several nearby heads turned.

"Keep your voice down."

"That's not a ‘no,'" he said, more sedate this time. Finally, he lurched forward to join me and continue to Hudson's.

"Yes, but you needn't tell the whole ton ."

"How did that happen?"

"That is not relevant nor is it something I will be sharing. You will manage the office?"

"Yes, of course. Anything for true love. You're perfect for each other. I don't know why I didn't see it yesterday when you were hissing at each other in your office like angry cats."

We reached the shop and tucked inside to wait in the substantial line. Hudson's had become a destination for the rich and beautiful, but that was in the afternoon. The beau monde came to sit in front of the curved bay windows to be seen while they enjoyed mouthwatering tarts and delightful cakes.

In the mornings, the peasants like me stood in an infinite line, taking our treats with us. Each and every bite had been worth the hours of my life spent in this line.

Kit had the good sense to set the conversation aside while we were inside. When, at last, we made it to the counter, an exhausted Ainsley slumped against it in his wife's usual place.

"Oh, it's you two. Anna was wondering why she hadn't seen you this morning. She set aside the usual assortment of tarts for you so we wouldn't sell out. Let me grab them."

"Thank you. And thank Mrs. Ainsley for us. Is she with little Emma?"

"Yes, Em is cutting teeth and has no interest in anything except being bounced by one of us. My stomach has decided that there shall be no more bouncing for a bit." I winced in sympathy.

I spent little time in the company of infants, but there had been nights when Adriane required constant stroking of her hair so she could sleep. That was probably somewhat easier on the stomach than the bouncing.

"These are perfect. We're going to need one of those little cake things for Kit over here. He was a very good lad watching the office yesterday."

Kit turned, glaring with indignation. "Did you not, just two minutes ago, ask me for a favor? Do you really want to press this?"

I turned back to Ainsley. "Right, one little cake thing. No irreverent commentary."

Ainsley added one to the basket with a raised brow and grin. We usually ended up with four or five empty baskets before one of us remembered to return them to the shop, but Mrs. Ainsley was overly indulgent with us.

With an exchange of thanks and well wishes, Kit and I set off once again. Having used my easy question for the walk to the shop, I was left with the more uncomfortable one.

"Kit?"

"Yes?" He answered, his mouth full of cake thing. Impatient, that one.

"I need your advice. Not because I think you're the best person to offer it. But because, as it turns out, you're my only friend."

"I don't know who should be more insulted by that statement, me or you?"

"Me, certainly."

"All right, out with it."

I kept my voice low. "How does one go about… pleasing a woman?" My efforts at subtlety were destroyed when he choked on his bite of cake thing. Great heaving coughs racked through his chest in an attempt to expel the crumbs from his lungs, drawing the gaze of everyone on the street. Were he not turning a purplish-red shade, I would think it purposeful.

At length, he righted himself and asked in a hoarse croak, "Come again?"

"You heard me the first time." We continued down the street.

"I assume this has something to do with your call this afternoon with a certain stunning Frenchwoman of our acquaintance?"

"It does."

"You know she's a lady? She won't want to be pleased without a ring on her finger."

Well, that was certainly not the case with Celine. Now I was faced with the challenge of providing the necessary information without tarnishing her honor.

My lack of response must have caught his notice because he turned to look at me, catching my arm and pulling me to a stop. "Unless…. William! You did have a pleasant afternoon, didn't you?"

"Do stop talking." I turned back, hastening my strides toward the office.

"No, no. In all seriousness, Will, are you not five and thirty?"

"Six and thirty. What has that to do with anything? I was at war, in case you forgot. And Oxford. And there was… someone. But she was unwell, and we never…"

"And you didn't… in France?"

"No."

"Right…" We had reached the office. Fortunately none of the clerks had arrived in our absence. Once inside, Kit set the basket at the designated table and nodded toward his office. Shutting the door behind us, he gestured to the chair across from his. "So, obviously, this conversation never happened."

"Obviously."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair to prop his feet on the desk. The chair tipped up onto two legs, balancing precariously. I couldn't help but hope he fell. "I don't exactly have hands-on experience. So to speak."

"Brilliant."

"I'm four and twenty, you can hardly be disappointed that I cannot offer advice when you have more than a decade on me."

"No, you're right. I'm sorry. I just…"

"Don't want to disappoint?"

"More or less."

"Well, I did not say I'm without advice. Just nothing firsthand." At my raised brow, he continued. "You should have asked Ainsley back there. Mrs. Ainsley always seems to be in a pleasant mood."

"He is a client. She is a client. That is wholly inappropriate."

"Excellent point. Well… you could always just ask her—Lady Rycliffe—what she likes. If the time comes, I mean. She is a widow, so it's not as though…"

"That is… not the worst possible idea."

"Thank you. I'm quite known for my mediocre notions."

Just then the bell chimed, signaling either a clerk or a patron and the end of our conversation. I rose and poked my head out of Kit's office to see Rosehill wringing his hands in front of him.

Before I could dissolve into a fit of panicked explanations for last night, he spoke. "Good morning, Will. Do you have a few minutes later this morning? I wanted to discuss my trip. But unfortunately, Dav is making a nuisance of herself. As I understand it, Davina's concerns are Mr. Summers's to solve."

"Of course. Just stop in when you've sort?—"

"She was caught trying to sneak aboard a ship to France. She was dressed as a lieutenant." The shamed exasperation with which Rosehill spoke was equal parts amusing and endearing. He could not be accused of failing to love his sister.

"Right… I'll leave that to Kit." I turned back to see the man collapsed onto his desk, his face buried in his palm. "Good luck!"

My only answer was a pathetic groan.

The knock startled me out of my contracts. Rosehill appeared somewhat less high-strung than earlier.

"Come in, come in. Everything sorted?"

"I think Mr. Summers is going down to the docks." He settled in his usual chair with far fewer concerns about the windows and doors this time.

"Better him than me. So, Scotland? Yorkshire? Somewhere else entirely?"

"Scotland," he nodded. "Is the place inhabitable?"

"Your steward seems to think so. How long are you planning to stay? You may wish to arrange some improvements if you're to be there the rest of the summer."

"That was one of the things I wanted to discuss." He studied my desk with interest, his finger tracing the grain along the wood. "I would like to settle there. For that to be my primary residence."

"I beg your pardon?" The words were out of my mouth before my head considered the rude tone.

"I would like to move. To Scotland. Permanently."

"But, with all due respect, Your Grace…"

"It's Xander, Will. You've known me forever." His lips pursed to one side of his face in a manner I'd only ever associated with him. That expression meant a whole host of things, but it was usually in the vicinity of a smile.

"What about your mother? And your sister? And a wife?"

"It's time for me to leave. I— It's for the best." His eyes found mine, so brown they were almost black and filled with an exhausted heartache. It was the closest he'd ever come to acknowledging—confirming my suspicions.

Still, I could not allow him to make such a decision without considering the implications. Surely there were other ways. "And your family?"

"That's why I have you. I need to set up provisions for Mother and Davina. Celine too. How much control are you able to give Celine? She's the only one with a lick of sense."

I would beg to differ on that point after last night, but I could hardly tell him that.

"I'll need everything that isn't entailed to be split between Mother and Dav if anything were to happen to me. However, I do not think they would do well with immediate, unfettered access."

"Well, the Yorkshire property belongs to the dukedom. The Scotland property is yours outright, though it doesn't bring in a great deal. The houses here in town I'll need to look into. The Rycliffe house, at least, may not be entailed. But, Xander, are you certain this is what you wish to do?"

"I have a great many wishes. Unfortunately, wishes cannot change reality."

"Right. Well, you're young. You should have many years before the entail becomes a concern for your family."

"Gabriel was a year younger than I am now. He had many years to live and a wife for that matter. I was never intended to inherit. If I do not wed and have children, the dukedom will go to some second cousin. Is the income from the unentailed estates sufficient to support Mother and Davina? I do not want to rely on a second cousin's goodwill."

"For any other mother and sister, I would say yes, more than. For yours…"

His mouth quirked to one side in that way of his. "That is what I feared. Is there any way to take income from the entailed estates and set up accounts for them now that cannot be accessed unless something were to happen to me?"

"Well, the dowry should be untouchable."

"Who, exactly, do you believe willing to marry Davina?"

I rather thought Kit would, if he ever gathered the courage. Though whether the girl would have him was a different matter entirely.

"I'll need to review and see exactly which properties are entailed to see what will need to be done."

"Very good. Can you look into dowering Celine as well? Obviously, we could not guarantee it if the title changes hands. But while I'm able, I would like to offer her that option. She has her own funds, but I do not want her limited in her choices. Also, can you determine what authority she could be granted to manage things?"

Suddenly it became very apparent that, in addition to managing Lady Davina's adventures, Kit ought to handle conversations about Celine. Because this was entirely unethical.

The urge to argue that any dandy who would require a bribe to wed Celine did not deserve her was nearly overwhelming. Suddenly, the image of my mother's ring on her delicate hand flooded in and took hold. Entirely inappropriate.

Forcing myself to attempt a veil of professionalism, I answered. "The dowry should not be an issue. Authority may be. Also, I hate to bring this up, but… Lady Davina? I cannot imagine she will stop her… adventures when you are away."

"Mr. Summers will be given carte blanche to use whatever funds necessary to get her out of whatever scrape she has gotten herself into. That is one of the things I hope Celine may be able to manage in my absence. And if my sister is still finding mischief after my untimely demise, she will have to find her own way out of it."

"Well, you've given me a great deal to consider. To be quite honest, I thought the trip was a ploy to get into the office. I haven't been as thorough as I ought."

"Ah yes, I owe you an apology for that."

"Unnecessary. It was certainly amusing."

"Well, apology issued, nonetheless. My departure does not need to be immediate, but I should like to be settled in Scotland before the weather starts to turn."

"I will have answers to your questions by next week, and contracts drawn up just as soon as we discuss my findings. Would that suffice?"

"Perfect. Thank you, Will. I could not trust just anyone with this. I appreciate your discretion. Now, I should head down to the docks and retrieve my recalcitrant sister."

"Good luck!" He merely offered an exhausted chuckle in response on his way out. And I was left with a great deal of research to distract me from the even greater list of things I was decidedly not thinking about.

And another damn favor to ask of Kit. Perhaps Mrs. Ainsley had not sold out of the little cake things yet.