CHAPTER FIVE

After breakfast and true to her word, Anna asked Flynn to take the Music Lesson to Lady Reculver’s rooms. If Sarah Thompson was surprised by this gesture she kept it to herself. Miss Hawthorne was neither stupid nor impetuous so when she did something it was always for a reason.

In the dining-room, the morning passed much as it had yesterday. They continued appraising the scent bottles, consulting Mr Lowe’s notes regarding each one’s original purchase price and marking down an estimate of its possible current resale value. Anna could see the likely total cost of the collection escalating rapidly but refused to let it daunt her. After all, if it was an indulgence, it wasn’t one that the company would be paying for. And, as for herself, she could afford it.

Anna was about to ask Flynn to bring a luncheon tray for herself and Sarah when Rebecca put her head around the door and said, ‘Miss Hawthorne … won’t you please eat with Mama and me today? Mama is eager to thank you properly. And I rarely get the opportunity to chat with a lady close to my own age.’

Anna’s brows rose in surprise. ‘You don’t have friends in the neighbourhood?’

‘I used to. But when Mama could no longer afford to entertain, she also stopped accepting invitations so, in time, they stopped coming. And gradually, so did the neighbours.’ Rebecca kept her tone matter-of-fact and free of self-pity. ‘Now, of course, we’re in mourning for Papa. So … will you please join us for luncheon?’

‘Of course, if you wish it. Thank you.’ And turning, ‘Do you want a tray in here, Sarah?’

‘No need to make extra work, ma’am,’ came the comfortable reply. ‘I’ll eat in the kitchen with the rest of the staff.’

Following Rebecca into the small dining-room, Anna was immediately struck by two things. For the first time, the Dowager greeted her with a smile … and, turning away from the window and the rain still falling outside it, his lordship said lazily, ‘How goes your morning, Miss Hawthorne? Better than mine, I hope.’

‘Probably,’ she said. ‘Is the weather an inconvenience?’

‘Somewhat,’ he admitted. ‘I had errands in Gloucester this morning. I am also hoping that the Turner’s barn roof has proved watertight … or, at the very least, that my attempts at repair didn’t make the problem worse rather than better.’

‘Hoping isn’t enough,’ observed his sister. ‘Try prayer.’

For an instant it seemed to Anna that his smile, the first genuinely full one she’d seen since her arrival, flooded the room with sunshine. Certainly, it flooded her with something unexpected and unidentifiable that temporarily stopped her breath.

He said wryly, ‘Thank you, Becky. Your confidence in my abilities is a never-ending source of comfort. I only wish I could share it.’

‘Try,’ she grinned. ‘With a bit of practice, I’m sure you can get the hang of it.’

This time he laughed. And Anna thought, Oh, don’t. I liked you more than I should before I’d even met you. I can’t afford to let it happen again now that I have – and particularly when I have yet to strike a deal with you.

‘That’s better,’ approved his mother. ‘It’s a long time since I last heard the two of you tease each other.’ And to Anna as they sat down to a collation of cold meats and cheese, ‘I was about to ask if you have siblings, Miss Hawthorne … but first, I must thank you for the Music Lesson . Flynn brought it to me earlier and I was so happy to have it back.’

‘Since it wasn’t mine to give,’ responded Anna, ‘you don’t need to thank me. It is still your late husband’s gift. And no, sadly I don’t have siblings – though I’ve often thought that I might have liked having a sister.’

‘Not a brother?’ asked Rebecca, reaching for the basket of rolls.

‘When I was a child, perhaps.’

‘But not now?’

‘No. If I had a brother – whether older or younger – it would be he who inherited Hawthorne’s, not me. And that would be a very bitter pill to swallow as the company means everything to me.’

Lady Reculver stared at her, nonplussed.

‘ Everything? Surely not. What of marriage? Is not a husband and family what every young woman wants?’

‘Not quite every woman, ma’am. I don’t, particularly.’

‘Why, then, did you have a London Season?’

‘That was my mother’s idea, not mine. I’ve no intention of repeating it.’

‘At least you could if you wished to,’ muttered Rebecca.

Ignoring this, her ladyship said, ‘You don’t want children, Miss Hawthorne?’

‘I might , I suppose – but that requires a husband, doesn’t it?’

‘Not necessarily,’ corrected his lordship demurely.

Caught with a mouthful of cheese, Rebecca choked and began to cough.

‘Daniel!’ exclaimed the Dowager. ‘Behave yourself!’

‘I beg your pardon, Mama,’ he said, not sounding particularly contrite. And to Anna, ‘You have something against husbands? Or perhaps men in general?’

‘As a species? Nothing. But I have a great deal against a woman’s property passing to her husband on her wedding day,’ replied Anna succinctly. ‘And the gentleman who would be satisfied with a generous income from Hawthorne’s but leave the management of the company solely in my hands probably doesn’t exist – because men always think they know best, even when they don’t.’ And slanting a glance at Daniel, ‘No offence intended.’

‘None taken.’ He shrugged slightly and added, ‘The world is full of idiots of both sexes, Miss Hawthorne. But if what you need is an idle fellow in need of money but of no more than mediocre intelligence, there are any number of them to choose from – younger sons, particularly. You must have met some of that ilk while you were in London. If not, I could probably name you half a dozen.’

‘Fortune-hunters who’d try to bleed the company dry?’ She shook her head. ‘No. That wouldn’t do at all.’

‘A good lawyer could prevent that eventuality. I’m presuming you have one?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then the problem isn’t insurmountable, is it? Bind your husband hand and foot with legal fetters.’ He pushed a small bowl in her direction whilst adding negligently, ‘Though for the sake of those future children, you might want to choose one you find physically appealing. Pickle?’

This time it was Anna who choked. ‘ W-What? ’

‘Onion relish. For the ham?’

‘Oh. Yes. Thank you.’ Annoyingly aware that her colour was rising, she decided that it was time to fight back, said, ‘Thank you for your advice, my lord – but what of you? Have you no plans to marry?’

‘Eventually, perhaps.’

‘But not at present?’ she persisted.

‘No.’ He trapped her gaze, a flicker of devilment dancing in his own. ‘Why? Were you thinking of offering?’

‘ Daniel! ’ his mother expostulated again – but this time with an arrested gleam in her eye that only Rebecca noticed.

‘Hardly,’ snapped Anna. ‘That would be ridiculous.’

‘Indeed,’ he agreed easily. And smiling, ‘After all, I don’t meet any of your criteria, do I? Stupid, lazy, biddable … and content to be a kept man? I’m none of those, I’m afraid.’

Anna stared at him, only one thought in her head, No. But you’re one of the other things you listed, aren’t you? And well aware of it, I suspect.

Since Anna appeared lost for words, Rebecca said, ‘That’s enough, Daniel. You’re being outrageous, as usual. And though Mama and I are used to it, Miss Hawthorne is not. So stop teasing and eat – before the rest of us develop indigestion.’

***

As soon as she was able to escape without it looking like flight, Anna returned to the dining-room and work. It took almost an hour before the words, I don’t meet any of your criteria and Choose one you find physically appealing stopped buzzing in her head. No. On the face of it, he didn’t meet most of her criteria – or not in the way he’d listed them. But he met one to a degree that was truly alarming.

She might have felt better had she known that his lordship had not escaped and, instead, had been subjected to his mother’s opinions on marriage, Miss Hawthorne and other things he didn’t want to talk about.

The Dowager plunged straight in with a meditative, ‘It might not be such a bad idea, you know.’

‘What mightn’t?’

‘Considering Miss Hawthorne.’

Suspecting he already knew the answer, Daniel said warily, ‘As what?’

‘A possible wife.’

For an instant, he didn’t know whether to laugh or bang his head against the wall. Deciding on simplicity, he said, ‘No.’

‘I realise it’s premature …and also a bit bizarre but –’

‘Oh, it’s definitely both of those.’

‘However, perhaps we shouldn’t dismiss the notion completely out of hand?’

‘Just to be clear, there is no ‘we’ in this, Mama.’

‘But only think of the advantages!’

‘That would be a waste of time. You heard her. She doesn’t want to marry.’

‘No – she just doesn’t want a husband who would meddle with her business. And you wouldn’t, would you?’

‘No. But that’s beside the point. Listen carefully to me. She does not want a husband.’

‘But she’d like children. And she’s aware that she needs a husband for that – despite that naughty remark of yours.’

‘I doubt I told her anything she didn’t already know,’ retorted Daniel. ‘And I’m not convinced that she does want children. It seems to me that the manufactory is her substitute for them.’

‘You could change that,’ came the stubborn reply. ‘Young ladies flock to you and always have’

‘Anna Hawthorne falls a world away from the category of young lady you are talking about, Mama. She wants one thing and one thing only. And it isn’t a man.’

She sighed. ‘Such a pity. Wealthy, presentable … and too clever for her own good.’

‘She’s certainly astute,’ he shot back. ‘Returning a piece of your own property to you has apparently changed her from being a female you wouldn’t dine with to a female you’ll consider as a potential daughter-in-law. Seriously? ’

The Dowager sighed. ‘Very well. I admit that I’m mostly dwelling on what her money could do.’

‘And you think I’m not? For this house, for the estate and – ’

‘And for Rebecca! She’d be able to have her Season – suitably dressed and from a house leased in a good part of Town. And – ’

‘I scarcely need reminding of that,’ snapped Daniel, his patience rapidly ebbing.

‘ And ,’ concluded his mother triumphantly, ‘if you were married, she could be chaperoned by your wife rather than the wife of one of your friends.’

The picture this created re-established his sense of proportion and he laughed.

‘Miss Hawthorne presenting Becky? The lady with few social graces and no interest beyond her manufactory? Yes. I can just imagine how well that would work.’

‘Oh,’ said the Dowager. Then, reluctantly, ‘You may be right, I suppose.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And if you dislike Miss Hawthorne, there’s no more to be said.’

‘Dislike doesn’t come into it. I scarcely know her and neither do you. More to the point, if I wanted to marry purely for money – something I’d much rather not do – it would make more sense to look for a suitable heiress in London.’

‘Which you can’t do until we’re out of mourning.’

‘Quite.’ Mentally adding, And which I can’t afford to do any more than I can afford Becky’s Season .

Apparently concentrating on pleating the folds of her skirt, Lady Reculver said, ‘Tell me honestly, Daniel. How long can we go on as we are?’

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted wearily. ‘Long enough for things to improve a bit, I hope, though I can’t guarantee it. But no more talk of marriage, Mama. I can’t contemplate it. Not to Miss Hawthorne and, just at present, not at all .’

***

Around mid-afternoon, Flynn brought Anna a letter from Mr Lowe at the manufactory. This worsened her mood rather than improving it. Sarah Thompson watched her screw it up and hurl it into the small fire that had been lit to combat the chill brought by the rain … and glimpsing Miss Hawthorne’s dark expression, had the sense not to ask any questions.

As on the previous day, Anna called a halt at around four o’clock, sent Sarah away and settled down to go through her notes. Or at least, that had been her intention. Despite all her best efforts, Lord Reculver’s voice kept intruding into her concentration – two words in particular.

Not necessarily , he’d said. Two perfectly innocent words but placed in a far from innocent context and one which had put thoughts Anna really didn’t want into her head.

Daniel Shelbourne was dangerous and forbidden, at least to her, and she shouldn’t be thinking of him at all – let alone in that way. But she didn’t seem able to stop herself. That she’d thought him wildly attractive when she’d been eighteen, was quite bad enough. That she still t hought so at the age of twenty-three was ridiculous.

She gave up trying to form an overall picture of what the figures on the pages in front of her told her. Dropping her head in her hands with a groan, she wondered how she was going to get through dinner if the style of his conversation remained as provocative as it had been at luncheon. She didn’t know whether he did it on purpose or she was just reading too much into it. But either way, the result was the same. Her normally calm and objective approach was in tatters.

Have you no plans to marry? she’d asked.

And, No , he’d replied. Why? Were you thinking of offering?

He’d put the insane notion into her head, damn him – and she couldn’t get it out.

***

In fact, Daniel resolved to be on his best behaviour throughout the remainder of Miss Hawthorne’s stay. When Rebecca asked about the progress of the valuation, he learned that there were nineteen remaining scent bottles – all of them Father’s most recent acquisitions – still to be assessed. And when he was informed that this should be completed by noon tomorrow, after which Miss Hawthorne would appreciate him setting aside some time to speak with her, he merely inclined his head and murmured, ‘Of course.’

The entire evening might have passed without a ripple had not his mother, for reasons that eluded him, chosen to quiz Miss Hawthorne about her London Season. The brevity of her replies showed how little she wanted to talk about this … but Mother, having the bit between her teeth, persisted. Even then, however, all might have been well had Miss Hawthorne’s glancing reference to her mother’s cousin, Lady Maybury, not stirred his mother’s almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the aristocracy.

As soon as she heard the name, her eyes narrowed and she said, ‘Let me think. Yes. Unless I am mistaken, Cordelia Maybury was a Hawkridge before she married … a third or possibly fourth cousin once removed to the main branch of the family. Is that correct?’

Daniel’s heart was already sinking even before Miss Hawthorne agreed that it was and then, entirely needlessly in his view, added that her maternal grandmother had also been a Hawkridge but even more distant a connection than Cousin Cordelia.

‘Dear me.’ The Dowager impaled her son on a bright stare. ‘How interesting. It would appear that Miss Hawthorne must be related to Lord Benedict. You should write, telling him so.’

‘I could ,’ he agreed carelessly, ‘except that I already know what he’d say. Something about the Hawkridge family being less a tree than a whole forest.’ Then to Anna, ‘I take it you’ve never met Belhaven or his brothers, ma’am?’

‘Never,’ she said, her tone suggesting that she had no interest in doing so. ‘Neither has Mama. She says any relationship is so remote, it barely exists at all. But even were it not, she was cast off by her parents when she married Papa – so I never met them either.’ And purely to avoid questions about that, ‘Lord Benedict is a brother of the current duke?’

‘Yes – the younger of them.’

He decided it was time to change the subject but, before he could do so, Rebecca said, ‘But you know Lord Oscar and Belhaven as well, don’t you?’

‘Oscar, yes … Belhaven, in common with most people, much less so.’ And for Anna’s benefit, ‘He’s almost a recluse.’

‘But not completely so,’ remarked his mother, ‘since I understand that he turned up uninvited at Lord Hazelmere’s wedding.’ And to Anna, ‘The gentleman usually referred to as the Lost Earl? You’ll have read all about him in the society pages, I daresay.’

‘I leave society gossip to my mother,’ replied Anna dismissively. ‘However, I seem to recall her mentioning something about his lordship’s sudden reappearance.’

‘Which wouldn’t have happened,’ cut in Rebecca triumphantly, ‘had not Daniel and his friend, Lord Wendover, gone hunting for him all over Turkey.’

Daniel swallowed a curse and said firmly, ‘Old news, Becky – which we are absolutely not going to chew over again now.’ He looked across at Anna and said the first thing that came to mind. ‘A letter came for you this afternoon. I trust you received it?’

Her expression grew stormy. ‘Thank you, yes.’

‘Not bad news, I trust?’

‘No. Merely … annoying.’ She might have left it there had she not realised that his lordship would have known from the superscription where the letter was from, so she said impatiently, ‘A Bristol glass manufacturer wants to buy Hawthorne’s. He has asked twice before and been told that the answer is, and will remain, no. Now, seemingly unable to accept this, he is pressing Mr Lowe to arrange a meeting with me in order to discuss the matter.’

‘You won’t sell to him … or at all?’ asked Daniel, suspecting he knew the answer.

‘At all. Hawthorne’s is my legacy from my father,’ came the uncompromising reply. Then, on something approaching an explosion, ‘And glass, for heaven’s sake! What does he know about the manufacture of soft paste porcelain? Nothing. Or the experiments currently taking place to make the wares less brittle with the addition of ground animal bone? Again, nothing! ’

She stopped as abruptly as she’d started, pink-cheeked and militant, to find his lordship watching her with a very faint smile.

‘Animal bone?’ said the Dowager, shuddering slightly. ‘How … unpleasant.’

‘I suggest you leave it there, Mama – or risk learning more than you want to know.’ Then, ‘Just out of interest, Miss Hawthorne, will you meet this glass-maker?’

‘To what end? It would be a waste of time.’ She drew a long breath. ‘Forgive me. Mr Harvill isn’t alone in wanting to acquire Hawthorne’s – Worcester Porcelain would also like to do so. But their interest makes sense. They are in the same business as ourselves and we are both too close by and too successful for their peace of mind. But at least they took no for an answer. I am finding Mr Harvill’s refusal to do the same intensely irritating.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Daniel mildly. ‘I believe we noticed that.’ He paused. ‘I shall be at home all afternoon tomorrow. When you are ready to discuss the collection, tell Flynn to let me know.’

~**~**~