Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

HART AND SUMMERS, SOLICITORS, LONDON - JUNE 16, 1816

WILLIAM

It was unbearably difficult to leave Celine's warm feminine curves the following morning.

Still, I could not abandon Kit for yet another day.

I arrived after a much longer journey than usual to an undisturbed office. That was more of a relief than I'd anticipated. I was deep into my search for answers to Xander's questions from the week before when Kit arrived.

He wore his teasing smugness like a coat and propped against my doorway with a pastry in hand. "So… How was your Sunday?" He asked the question with an amused lilt to his voice, taking a bite to hide his smirk.

"Better than yours, obviously."

"I'm sure it was. How is the lovely Celine?"

"As you stated, lovely."

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?" he asked, annoyance written in his tone.

"I dined with her mother and a family friend last evening."

"Really? I take it by your sanguine demeanor that went well?"

"It did."

"And…"

"And what?"

"And am I to ask you for advice with women yet?"

"Women? Or Lady Davina?"

"Fine, I'm going to my office. I have more than enough work to do. Before they arrive though, keep an eye on the clerks. Bates specifically. He's been jumpy since the break-in."

"You don't mean…"

"Well, whoever broke in either picked the lock or used a key. It's possible one of them was involved. I caught him trying to ‘help' tidy your office or search for documents in here no less than three times the other day."

"Perfect…" I sighed. "Thank you for the warning, I suppose."

"Of course," he mumbled with a mouthful of tart.

One by one the clerks arrived with Bates making a concerted effort to come into my office to welcome me back to the office. I noted a less than surreptitious glance at the documents on my desk. Lord, I hoped Kit was wrong. The man had a family to feed. But if he had information that would keep Celine out of danger?—

The bell at the door rang and in stalked Wayland, shooing Lady Davina ahead, half-garbed in what was clearly her brother's clothing. Wayland's youngest brother, Mr. Tom Grayson followed, trying and failing to keep his laughter to a minimum.

"Kit! I understand you're responsible for this nuisance?" Wayland hollered from the main room. Grayson propped himself against one of the clerk's desks to enjoy the show as Kit stumbled out of his office. I made my way into the main room to see what all the commotion was about.

"I would hardly say I'm responsible for her. That would be her brother."

"Yes, well, I did steal Rosehill's fiancée from under him. So if it's all the same, I'd rather deal with you."

"Ugh! No one is dealing with me. I won! What is there to deal with?" Lady Davina demanded.

"Right. My office then," Kit said, gesturing distractedly behind him while gaping at the sight of the lady in breeches. She sauntered up to him, paused to adjust his cravat in an overly familiar way, then continued inside. Wayland followed, and Kit stood frozen, blinking dully for a moment until she called his name. He turned and joined them, closing the door behind him and leaving a bemused Mr. Grayson and the rest of the office thoroughly distracted in his wake.

I selected a tart from the nearby table and nodded toward my office when I had Mr. Grayson's attention. "Have a seat and a tart?"

He agreed and settled himself with his pastry across from me at the desk, his boot-clad feet promptly hitting the wood as he leaned back in the chair. It creaked in irritation but held fast and apparently Mr. Grayson was unconcerned with the protest.

"So, she was gambling then?" I asked, hoping for an amusing story for my morning.

"She won some three thousand pounds off Lord Montrose before anyone caught on. Now, of course, he's refusing to pay like the little weasel he is."

"Do we need to send a note to Rosehill?"

"Augie went to fetch him before he went home to Anna and Emma," he explained as he polished off the tart.

"Very good. Were you at the club?"

"I was. Michael was having one of his usual crises. He's convinced he cannot be a good father to his child since our father was shite. At least he's decided working far too many hours is preferable to running to Piccadilly and losing thousands like he did last time."

I left the majority of that statement lying, instead inquiring after the lady's health. It was a safe enough topic and one we covered quite nicely by the time Xander stumbled through the door, disheveled and underdressed.

I rose to greet him, and Mr. Grayson followed me into the main room.

"Is she in there with Mr. Summers?" Xander demanded.

"And Wayland. I'm sure they'll be out in a few moments," I explained.

"She was gaming at the club?"

"That is what I'm given to understand. I believe she won, at least. Have a tart and a seat. Catch your breath," I suggested, gesturing to the additional chair in my office before taking my own. Both men entered and settled beside each other, Mr. Grayson with a second tart in his hand. Without a word he passed it to Xander, who tore into it unthinkingly.

"So," Mr. Grayson started. "I was wondering something," he asked, his full attention on Xander.

"You need her permission," the duke retorted, looking up from his tart, peevish.

"What?" Grayson's brow furrowed.

"You need Davina's permission. To court her. The Lord himself could not force her into a courtship she did not wish. I'm certainly not going to attempt it."

"I wasn't going to ask to court your sister," Mr. Grayson explained slowly.

"You weren't?"

"No. I envy the men brave enough to court Hasket women. I'm not one of them." He turned in my direction to deliver that last little quip. Well struck, sir.

"Well, what did you want then?" Xander demanded.

"I was just wondering where you decided to go for your trip."

"My trip?" Xander asked, distracted once more by the tart.

"You were planning a trip the last time I saw you." Mr. Grayson leaned toward him, biting back a grin.

"Oh, I'm for Scotland."

"Scotland… Highlands? Lowlands? For how long?"

"Lowlands. And I'm planning to make it my primary residence. Why do you have so many questions?" Xander snapped back.

Mr. Grayson's teasing smirk fell from his face and his eyes widened in something like distress. "I—you—Nothing. Just making conversation."

"Apologies. I'm a bit… distracted at the moment. What with my sister," Xander explained, his hands brushing away the distraction.

"Of course. When, uh, when do you leave?" Mr. Grayson asked, picking at an invisible piece of lint on his waistcoat.

"That depends on what Will has managed to find out for me. Hopefully within the next several weeks."

"I suppose I should leave you two to it then." Mr. Grayson said, stumbling up from his chair and walking back out to the main room. He leaned against the tart table, picking at his thumbnail.

"Have you had the opportunity to find any answers? I know there was a bit of a situation here the other day," Xander said.

"I have answers for some of the questions. Surprisingly enough, neither the Rycliffe residence nor Hasket House is entailed, only the Yorkshire property. If you wanted to sell the Rycliffe residence after your departure, you could, and the money would be yours to do with as you see fit and untouchable by an heir. You could stay with your mother whenever you return to town."

"I can sell that house? You're certain?" It was impossible to discern whether he was distressed or excited by the idea. His tone and expression were on edge.

"Yes. Your father treated it as though it was a part of the courtesy title, but it was only purchased by your grandfather for your father."

"I do not have to live there? Where he died." There was a desperation in his tone.

My heart broke a little for him.

"No. If you would rather, you could use the funds to purchase a different house in town. I did not realize you wished to give it up. I deeply regret that I did not look into that earlier."

"No. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Yes, well. Lady Davina's dowry, such as it stands, is untouchable, even if she remains unwed. I could set up anything additional you wish to add to it for her to have access to at an age you deem appropriate. Normally I would suggest twenty-five, but…"

"Thirty? Do you suppose she will mature by thirty?"

"It's possible. You can also have it released to her in installments, rather than a lump sum. You may wish to do the same thing with your mother."

"Yes. I can dower Celine from those funds as well?"

"Yes, if you wish."

"And what do you wish?" He grinned and steepled his hands under his chin.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I heard an interesting rumor last night. You are staying at Cadieux House?"

"I am…"

"Mr. Grayson out there claims not to possess the bravery necessary to court a Hasket lady. Do you?"

"Whether I possess the bravery is neither here nor there. I believe she has determined that I am to court her. I've simply chosen to accept my fate."

"Good man." He offered a genuine smile. "Is she able to manage some of the funds?"

"Yes..."

"You do not sound overly certain."

"As long as she remains unwed, she can manage the funds. If she were to take another husband, they would become his. We could write the contract such that it would terminate at that time. But that would leave you with the same problem you are currently facing, no one to manage them."

"Why is that the case?"

"When a woman is born, she exists under her father's identity. When she weds, she and her husband become one in the eyes of the law, and that person is him. It is only if he precedes her in death that she becomes her own person, legally speaking. If she weds again, she accepts her new husband's identity."

"Well, that is patently absurd."

"I cannot disagree with you."

"And there is no way around it?"

"A vote in parliament…"

"Oh, well, there is no problem then." He rolled his eyes demonstratively.

"You can still manage everything by post. There just may be some difficulties. What those might be, I have no way of knowing."

"Right. Let me discuss selling the house with Celine. She should have a say as well. Do we need to have a purchase in place to draft the documents?"

"No, I can get them started and we can determine what funds should be placed where before signing."

I heard Kit's door open from the hall. Xander turned as all three former occupants came around the corner.

It was Wayland who broke the silence. "Rosehill, I trust you are well."

"I am."

"Good, that's… good." He turned his attention to Mr. Grayson, still awkwardly perched next to the tarts in an ungainly pile of too-long limbs. "Tom… Off the furniture. How many times must we have this conversation?"

"Everything sorted?" Mr. Grayson asked.

"It is. Let's head out." The men turned, heading for the door. The bell chimed behind the brothers, leaving a stilted silence in their wake.

It lasted only a moment before Lady Davina stomped into the room and fell into the empty chair beside Xander with an indelicate plop.

"I assume you two need to have a discussion?" I asked Kit.

"Only if you're finished. It can wait."

"I believe we're sorted for now. Do you want to use my office?" I asked.

"If you do not mind, while everyone is comfortable."

"Of course." I rose to leave and perhaps find a tart before they were all gone.

"You can stay. Our discussion impacts the rest of the estate," Kit added. Drat, no treat. I left my seat vacant for Kit and leaned against the wall.

"So, Lady Davina won some ￡3,250 this morning off of Lord Montrose. Michael is determined that he will pay it. However, he is equally determined that he cannot have young ladies sneaking into the club dressed as young men."

"It would serve you right, you know. If he had you arrested for public indecency," Xander scolded.

"He would never. He still feels badly for stealing Juliet from you."

Xander tutted. "A person cannot be stolen. She made the choice that would make her happiest and I am glad for them both. You are not to exploit any feelings he has on that subject. Do you understand?"

She crossed her arms, her lips twisting into something akin to a pout. The effect was somehow endearing rather than irritating. On anyone less beautiful, it would come across as childish and petulant, but on her it merely… was. When Xander remained unmoved by her display, she answered with a sullen, "I understand."

"We can set up an account that will be for Lady Davina's personal use. It will be under your name of course, if you agree," Kit explained.

"Her own account? Is that necessary?"

"It might be good practice," I offered.

"She also won ￡575 from Mr. Wesley Parker and ￡250 from Baron Thurston Lucas."

"Davina…" Xander sighed.

"Why are you scolding me? I did well!"

"You could have just as easily done poorly," he snapped. "Did she bankrupt anyone else? I thought Parker was more fond of the tracks than the tables."

"No, Montrose was the most substantial gain," Kit said.

"All right, have the accounts drafted, I suppose. I'll call for the carriage. You stay right there." He directed the last comment to Davina.

She watched him walk out before turning to me with narrowed eyes. "What are your intentions with Cee?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You understood me perfectly," she insisted.

"I…" I was saved from further interrogation by Xander's return and subsequent dragging of his sister into his greatcoat before he stuffed her into the carriage.

"Well, this has been quite the morning," Kit said to no one in particular.

It really had been.

And why did these women insist on traipsing into our office in all manner of ridiculous dress?