by Liz Tyner
A man who attracted the attentions of all the unmarried ladies who would cluster in his sight so that he might notice them.
She’d not planned to be one of those women. Known there was no future in it and only wanted a man who was constant.
Obviously, she couldn’t trust herself where choosing someone to care for her was a concern. She would be better off remaining unmarried and settling on business. Far safer than attaching herself to, and believing in, someone who couldn’t be constant.
Chapter Fifteen
Rachael waited in the back room while her father spoke with Grimsley. She pretended to be examining the necklaces, but in reality, her awareness remained on the men.
Grimsley ran a hand over his cropped silvery hair while explaining to her father that he planned to visit a silversmith who’d trained in France, hoping for some new designs, but her father was reluctant. Grimsley conversed longer about what had sold and what wares they needed for replacement, and her father’s feet kept slanting closer to the door.
She stared across the silent street. Two people perused a window across the way, but no one seemed particularly interested in her father’s wares. No one had even been inside while her father and Grimsley communicated.
‘Do you mind if I stay behind?’ she asked her father. ‘I’d like to spend the morning with the Grimsleys.’
Her father tapped his silver-tipped walking stick on the floor. ‘But I’ve plans... You can only examine the wares so long.’
He tapped his cane again. ‘I know I said you could help, but it’s much too complicated for you. And I don’t want you disrupting Grimsley’s day. Besides, people might mistake you for staff.’
‘I’ll mostly stay in the old apprentice’s room where the ledgers and fixtures are stored. Something to take my mind from the broken betrothal,’ she said, throwing that out so her father could latch on to it.
‘Well, if you put it that way, I can understand. But you must promise to stay out of Grimsley’s way.’
‘I will,’ she agreed, dashing a kiss on his cheek and nudging him out. She didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind.
Grimsley reminded her of a merry elf, but he was losing the twinkle in his eyes. He slipped the ledger her father had studied under the counter. ‘Are you sure you want to linger, Miss Albright?’
‘I heard you tell my father what had sold the last week and I decided to discover if I could understand what people like. Why they purchase what they do and how many sales you have in a month.’
‘It’s not a pleasant way to spend a day, especially for a young woman such as yourself. Rather tedious, I’d expect.’ He thumbed away a speck of dust on the counter.
‘It might not be.’
‘Well, the details can be rather cumbersome.’
‘I want to learn for myself.’ She crossed her arms and met his gaze. ‘After all, I might take over from my father some day and I want something here to take over.’
‘You...um...think there might be problems?’ he asked. His face sobered, losing its elfin quality. ‘And you’re still interested?’
‘More so.’
‘Don’t you think you should leave this to me and your father? You should be protected from doing this work. It’s not right for a woman to have to worry about business matters when she has a household to manage.’
‘I may never have my own family. If I need to, I will hire a good housekeeper. I’m sure you’ve heard that Tenney and I are not going to marry.’
‘I did. It concerned me.’
That jolted Rachael.
He heaved in a breath and his shoulders sagged. ‘It’s not all a pretty sight, I’m afraid to say.’
‘Then we’d best get started.’
He gave a brief nod and brought out the ledger, tucking it under his arm. ‘I’ll get my daughter to watch the front and she can call me if a customer comes in and the bell rings while we’re busy.’
After fetching his daughter, Grimsley took Rachael to the storage room and retrieved another ledger. Once he opened the book and began speaking, his words tumbled out faster and faster.
She didn’t ask questions, but just listened, absorbing.
Then his speech took on a normal pace and he sighed when he turned the last page.
‘I don’t understand how you get these calculations,’ she admitted.
‘You can learn,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen it proven with my wife and daughter. My wife has known me all my life and when I started learning arithmetic, we would talk about it. She caught on as well as I did.’ His cheeks expanded. ‘Better in some cases.’
Rachael examined him. ‘Your wife can understand these numbers?’
‘Of course. It’s not hard once you understand the mathematicals. Do you know the multiplication tables?’
‘Mother didn’t think they’d be necessary.’
‘Once you learn them, the figures will all start making sense to you. I’ve a book I’ll share and you’ll just need to study it. My wife learned them. It makes it easier for her to keep records for the household.’
‘I’m sure it’s easier than making conversation with people I don’t know.’
‘That’s part of being responsible for selling the wares also. It’s all easier after you practise enough. The hard part seems to be getting the customers to stop here.’
‘Practise,’ Rachael repeated and relived the unpleasantness of past soirées before shoving them from her recollections. If she could learn mathematicals, like Mr Grimsley’s wife, then she could manage a dance.
She understood that her father’s belief that business knowledge was beyond her hadn’t stopped her, nor had Grimsley’s initial reluctance, yet people she didn’t know in ballrooms smothered her courage if she didn’t fight to keep strong.
She assessed why. Her father and Grimsley might doubt her, but they wouldn’t disparage her with whispers. Strangers could easily reject her. She would have to silence her own doubts in herself to be able to deal with—and ignore—the opinions of others. The fear inside herself.
It was her own insecurities keeping her conquered...nothing else.
Chapter Sixteen
Rachael put aside the book from Grimsley and selected the one on her bedside table that she’d taken from the shelf in the sitting room. She ran her fingers over the worn cover. She liked this volume much better than the one she’d chosen when she was with the Viscount. That one had been about pirates and she’d not liked the brutal tales at all. She’d only chosen it because it was close at hand.
But this tome was different.
Her grandfather had penned his name inside the front cover. Her father’s name was directly under that. Her grandfather had died when she was too young to remember him, but as she read the book, it was as if she’d begun to understand his thoughts. As if she could imagine him underlining the page and speaking the words to her.
Her father had told her that his father had said it was a disgrace to disrespect books by writing in them, but this was one he’d planned to pass on to his grandson and that it had guided his life. If it ever got into the wrong hands, he wanted it known that it was his book.
Her grandfather had taken the inheritance from his father and purchased wares, and he’d worked hard, rented several other buildings and the family’s fortunes had increased. Her mother had claimed her father-in-law was a taskmaster who never seemed to stop working. In fact, she muttered that he’d been furious when Rachael’s father had wanted to marry her and he had another potential bride in mind for his son...the daughter of a man who imported teas.
She read the title again. She doubted Devlin would ever consider reading such a book, but he could likely talk someone who’d studied it into telling him the best parts of it.
Rachael retrieved her pen and ink.
Underneath her father’s looping handwriting, she wrote her name. T
he rest of the page was blank. Just like her life had been. She flipped through the pages. But not any more.
Thinking of Tenney didn’t force her into the world to meet people, but the encouragement of people around her did.
She couldn’t motivate herself based on revenge.
But imagining her grandfather giving her advice from beyond the grave inspired her. She’d searched through the pages, trying to read each scored section once and then twice. Messages that her grandfather had planned to pass to a grandson, but now she studied them.
She put the book away to prepare for the night’s event. A business endeavour in fine clothing. A duel not to the death, but to the life of a venture.
* * *
When her hair was in place, her lips stained and everything about her appearance double-checked, she dismissed her maid.
Fluffing out her sleeves, she contrasted the feel of the garment to that of her day dresses.
Her sleeves were scratchy against her shoulders because buckram underneath made them flounce out. The scratchiness made her feel that her dress was armour-strong and she carried it well.
When she looked in the mirror, she could at least recognise herself more easily than she had before.
She touched the glass. She had to get to know this woman.
The dress, one she’d never worn before, hardly stood out.
The plan was that she could wear something she was comfortable in and its basic design would accentuate many different styles of jewellery.
She swirled, testing the dangling emerald and pearl earrings as they bounced against her jawline.
She wondered if butterflies ever longed to be a caterpillar again and decided they must. To grow wings and be buffeted about by the winds would be more taxing than squirming about attaching to stems and the underside of leaves. But butterflies were made to land on the flowers and fly into the blue above.
Again, she pulled at the top of her sleeves, arranging them to their full puffiness. She’d liked being hidden, but it wouldn’t bring the results she needed.
* * *
When she walked into the soirée, the uneasiness in her stomach was the only thing about her that didn’t feel perfect.
She clamped her teeth together, gave herself strict instructions to smile, not to catch on fire and to live until the end of the night. If she completed those three tasks, she would consider the event a success.
The bauble on her wrist sparkled, a woman decked in stones instead of munitions. She smiled. She must not even take a sip of wine. Well, she decided, one more and pretended being at ease, only letting the drink moisten her lips. The bracelet slid from her wrist almost to her elbow, and she lowered her glass slowly, enjoying the reverse glide of smooth metal against her skin.
Then she touched the necklace and interlaced her fingers through the chain before dropping the warmed links.
So much better than chainmail to wear into this battle.
She saw another wallflower. She would introduce herself to the woman and then find another person to meet. It didn’t matter if the woman liked or disliked her. This wasn’t about making friends. It was about survival. About battle.
And being able to conduct herself at a soirée successfully. Which she could do. She saw Devlin. She would prove it. And she could demonstrate it to him. She would flutter around like a butterfly without an attachment to any one flower. She would introduce herself to the wallflowers and older women and any woman who stood alone. She would dance with her father and with Payton, and she would practise being at ease.
She reduced her aspirations. She stood still to avoid spilling her wine.
Devlin looked so confident, relaxed and laughing, and so were the people around him. She envied his composure and then he glanced around the room, saw her and, with just the smallest nod, welcomed her.
She wanted Devlin to be proud of the strides she’d made, because he had helped her. Encouraged her.
She didn’t mind being a wallflower any more because Devlin understood her true purpose. She was there to showcase her jewellery and again she lifted a drink to her mouth, pretended to sip, and let the bracelet slide. She had to admit, most of the ladies had more elegant dresses, but few could match her in gemstones.
* * *
The night meandered on and, during a lull between the dances, she felt a presence at her side and knew without turning that it was Devlin.
‘I barely untied my cravat in time to attend,’ the rich baritone teased, causing sparkles of pleasure.
‘I’m happy I didn’t tie it in two knots then.’
‘You seem more relaxed,’ he said.
‘An act.’
‘Acting is not all bad. Payton and I both became fascinated with the stage once. Not so much the plays, but the actresses. When they spoke of their trade, I realised that some of them were in a performance at all times they were with me. Perhaps in their lives. I accepted it as a ritual of society that is necessary for us all. That’s why I tell you to do it at the soirées.’
‘It’s tiresome. Pretending to be happy when you weren’t born to flutter about.’
‘You were never born a creature to stay hidden.’
‘Perhaps that is why it didn’t happen. Perhaps the accident was fortunate all the way around. It saved me from Tenney.’ Their eyes locked. ‘And you from mindless chatter. It gave you a project. Me.’
He raised his glass slightly in her direction. ‘A gamble with the same odds Payton accepts at the gaming table. An assured win.’
* * *
Devlin watched the guests, aware that the woman his father had once courted was in attendance.
He’d been surprised that his father had fancied her. Her gown was dull and made her look older than her years and she had woebegone jowls. Not at all the spitfire his mother could be.
‘A woman my father once courted is here tonight. He led her to believe they were going to marry, but didn’t propose. He decided he’d made a mistake and asked my mother to wed that week. He married within days.’
He’d heard the ever so polite but still vitriolic mentions when his mother spoke of it to his father. She’d not been aware he’d been courting the other woman and found out within days after their wedding. The former sweetheart had called on his mother to offer felicitations.
He’d not known about it until he’d heard his father laughing with a few friends about the error of his ways and the explosion the Countess had unleashed on him when he’d returned home. The insouciance had startled Devlin. ‘My uncle told me about it when I asked him. I’d heard Father’s side and I didn’t want to ask Mother.’
His uncle had said the bungled proposal was merely a ripple in the pond of the Earl’s indiscretions.
‘Father has had many mistresses, but only one wife.’
‘Spare me the nobility of that one,’ she said. ‘I now detest your father.’
‘So did Mother for most of my childhood. But they seem to have reached an agreement of sorts. They never have hot-tempered discussions now. He’s mellowed. And I rarely have a cross word with Father either. We have mostly left our own angry shouting matches by the wayside.’
‘You’re his son. That’s the way it should be.’
‘A title bestowed by birth.’
‘You should value those titles.’
‘Some come with estates. Some don’t. I’m far better off to look at them as they are than to try to wish them into what they’re not. And I don’t.’
‘That’s cold, when it’s family.’
‘Depends on how you comprehend it.’
‘How do you find me?’
‘Your betrothed treated you badly and I want you to show everyone that he was a dolt.’
‘Are you trying to absolve your father’s indiscretions when you assist me? Or are you atoning for the women who expected more than a frie
ndship from you?’
‘Or a third suggestion. You fascinate me.’ He gauged her reactions to his words. ‘But we both could be playing with fire.’ His gaze locked on her. ‘And you know how it burns.’
Music started. He asked her with a flick of his brows if she wanted to dance and she held out her elbow for him to lead her forward.
She spoke as they waited for the dancers to line up. ‘Fire makes swords stronger.’
‘You escaped it once. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt a second time.’
The dance started, bringing them closer. She spoke. ‘But artillery is usually iron, or steel—metal stronger than flesh and bone.’
‘Not yours.’ He gave her the elaborate bow the dance required and as they raised their hands to touch, he led her in a circle. ‘If you only ever listen to one bit of advice in your life, then listen to this one. You shouldn’t play with fire when your heart is involved. It’s not a gamble, it’s a jump from a place of safety into an abyss.’
* * *
Rachael was no longer aware of the others at the dance. Devlin took so much space in her mind that it couldn’t comprehend anyone or anything else at that moment.
‘I commend you for the warning,’ she said. ‘But I expect you to know that people rarely heed cautions.’
‘I’m not interested in how other people react. Only you.’
‘What’s one more gamble?’ she asked. ‘When I am undertaking a struggle to learn the multiplication tables.’
‘I would hope I rate higher than that.’
‘You do.’
He waited until they were at the end of the line and kept his voice low. ‘Might I call on you again? As I did last time? The same time? Tomorrow night?’
‘Yes,’ she answered softly.
They parted in the steps and when they were at the end of the line again, he spoke. ‘Did you notice that the Duchess of Pendleton is here? The woman you mentioned when you were thinking of someone to emulate?’
