A Woman of True Honor: True Gentlemen Book Eight

by Burrowes, Grace

  Valerian passed the papers to Emily, who swept from the room with him as if processing from her presentation at court. She maintained her composure until they reached a turn in the corridor and encountered Osgood Pepper.

  “Daughter, what on earth has you in such a state? Mr. Dorning, if you are responsible for the fire in my Emily’s eyes, I suggest you put your affairs in order.”

  “You had best put your affairs in order, Papa,” Emily shot back, thumping his bony chest with the papers. “Those geniuses you employ to oversee your business affairs have let the insurance lapse on our two largest warehouses. Fortunately, our solicitors were sufficiently dismayed to write to you directly about it.”

  “The insurance?” Pepper’s brows knit. “Are you certain?”

  Warehouses without insurance were disasters waiting to happen, as Valerian well knew. Publishers frequently went out of business because a warehouse fire destroyed an entire inventory overnight.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “this topic is better suited to a more private location?”

  Pepper scowled at him. “What are you doing here, Dorning?”

  “Mr. Dorning saved Caleb’s life,” Emily retorted. “I was ready to do him a serious injury when Mr. Dorning intervened. Tobias is equally deserving of my wrath. I can understand that an occasional bank draft gets lost in the mail, or a notice is set aside through inadvertence, but two warehouses, Papa? The two that are most likely to be full of expensive inventory?”

  A shadow of confusion passed through Pepper’s eyes. “I am nearly certain I signed bank drafts made out to the insurance company. I will remedy the oversight immediately. Perhaps when I was so ill, I failed to see to the matter.”

  Emily stepped back, gaze troubled. “Then you failed to attend to two notices for each policy, failed to take action when cancellation warnings were sent out, and failed to heed the solicitor’s letter as well. At death’s door, Papa, you would not be so negligent.”

  “Then perhaps the Walmer boys were a bit lax,” Pepper said. “In any case, I won’t let it happen again. Is that my correspondence in your hand, child?”

  “I am not a child, Papa, and yes, this is the correspondence that I found sitting on the reading table. Some of it is more than a week old, and I gather no replies have been drafted.”

  “More oversights to remedy, then,” Pepper said, holding out his hand. “You can take your handsome caller into the garden, and I will be about my business, eh?”

  Emily did not want to hand over the letters. Valerian could see that as clearly as he could see the paternal pride that drove Pepper to demand their surrender.

  “If we’re to enjoy the garden,” Valerian said, “you’ll want a bonnet and shawl, Miss Pepper.”

  She let her father have the correspondence and took the steps at a brisk pace. When she was out of sight, and her footsteps had faded, Pepper was back to scowling.

  “If you think to marry her fortune, think again, Dorning. No impecunious younger son will get his hands on my Emily if I have anything to say to it. She’s all I have, and though I may be old, I take her welfare quite seriously.”

  “As well you should,” Valerian replied mildly, “but Caleb Booth was hollering at her—I heard him from the corridor—and Granger did nothing to intervene. This altercation took place before a pair of clerks, who also failed to come to the lady’s aid. Even you must admit that two warehouses full of inventory at risk for loss are worth your daughter’s concern. Miss Pepper is taking your welfare quite seriously, sir. Rather than thwart her, perhaps you might allow her to support you until such time as she is willing to cede the field.”

  Pepper rested his weight against the newel post, suggesting the man ought to be carrying a cane, despite his protestations of renewed health.

  “You don’t understand, Dorning. Emily means well, but ever since… she worries excessively. Warehousing any inventory is a calculated risk. There were years when I could not afford to insure anything, not even my silks, but luck was with us and we’re doing better now. Emily needs to get married and have some babies, and I do not mean get married to the likes of you.”

  Plain speaking, indeed. “Emily needs to know that you and your business interests thrive. She is wholly devoted to you, and until she is assured that you have matters entirely in hand, I doubt she’ll be marrying anybody.”

  Pepper’s gaze drifted up the stairs. “Just like her mother. Stubborn as hell.”

  “Devoted,” Valerian countered. “Bright, determined. We call it stubbornness only when the ladies try to talk sense to us.”

  Pepper rolled the letters into a cylinder and smacked Valerian in the chest. “Charm will get you a turn in the garden, Dorning, and not much more. Break Emily’s heart, and I will make you sorry.”

  “And the same to you, sir.”

  Pepper grinned, revealing an attractiveness that must have been more evident before his health declined.

  “I do like a man with backbone, and I do not like fellows who raise their voices to my Emily, though she’d provoke a saint to shouting. Her brother was the same way.”

  Pepper shuffled off just as Emily appeared at the top of the steps, a blue shawl over her arm and a wide-brimmed hat in her hand.

  “You are worried,” Valerian said as she descended. “Give your father time to ponder his options and then inform him of your chosen course.”

  Emily paused, two steps up from the bottom. “Simply tell him I’ll resume reading his correspondence?”

  “And then do it. No bargaining, no exceptions, no negotiating or backing away from your word. You do this out of concern for him, not because business letters hold some odd fascination for you. If he’s made an error of this magnitude, and two clerks and two flunkies didn’t catch it, then he needs your help now.”

  Emily came down the last two steps, slipped her arm through Valerian’s, and then leaned in closer, giving him her weight for a sweet, unexpected moment.

  “I hate to fight. I fought with Briggs at breakfast, I fought with Tobias last night, I fought with Caleb this morning. I expect I’ll fight with Mr. Ogilvy this afternoon. I never aspired to be a lady pugilist.”

  “Sweet heaven forefend. Let’s stop by the master suite before we visit the garden, and perhaps your encounter with Mr. Ogilvy won’t be as contentious as you fear.”

  She straightened. “You are very dear, Valerian Dorning. I hope Papa wasn’t too rude?”

  “Your father was appropriately protective of you.”

  Emily took Valerian’s arm and turned back up the steps. “He should be protective of his inventories. We had a warehouse fire ten years ago. I had just gone away to school, but I could tell from my mother’s letters that the lost inventory wasn’t the half of it. The shopkeepers and modistes, the theaters and court drapers all shared in the disruption, even if they didn’t lose any goods. Their customers were inconvenienced, their businesses suffered. The other mercers charged them extra to fill our orders, knowing the matter was one of hardship. Papa vowed then never to take that risk again.”

  “Could he afford to lose a warehouse or two?”

  “He could lose ten warehouses. That’s not the point. I cannot lose him.”

  They reached the top of the steps, and now Emily, too, seemed tired.

  “Do you miss your brother?” Valerian asked. “I certainly miss mine, and they are all extant and in great good health.” Ash was prone to the mulligrubs, but he was physically hale.

  “My brother is quite alive, thank—who told you about Adam?” Emily came to an abrupt halt outside the door of the master suite. The fire was back in her eyes, the steel once more in her spine.

  “I hope you will.”

  Chapter Seven

  “The earl’s brother is going to cause trouble—more trouble.” Caleb made that announcement while goggling out the window, doubtless hoping to spy on Emily and Mr. Dorning strolling in the garden.

  The rain had obliged the doting couple by moving off, while Tobias’s
mood was anything but sunny. Work on his invective, indeed. That Dorning had offered the set-down with good humor made the insult even worse.

  As Dorning had known it would.

  “We’ve had this discussion,” Tobias said. “Valerian Dorning is a Dorset bumpkin, a younger son without a groat to his name. Emily is bored, and Dorning is a novelty. Come away from the damned window. You’re not her nanny.” Caleb was becoming troublesome too, and Tobias had to do something about that.

  Caleb remained by the window, though he let the curtain fall back into place. “She’s not out there yet. Probably taking tea with Dorning behind a closed door. Emily grows restless, true enough. I thought women were supposed to delight in lavishing great sums on wallpaper, carpets, and door carvings.”

  Emily Pepper was not women, something Tobias was coming to increasingly appreciate. She was twice the businessman her brother had been, maybe twice the businessman Caleb was too.

  “The insurance payments should have gone out on time, Caleb.” Osgood had been in high dudgeon over that error, his temper reminiscent of his old self. His competitors considered the name Pepper appropriate, as did any suppliers who disappointed him.

  “Bank drafts go astray in the king’s mail all too often, or perhaps the clerks were less than conscientious. You and I have been preoccupied with refitting the new merchantman, running a London business from the cow pasture God forgot, and humoring Osgood. No wonder we haven’t had time to curry Em’s favor.”

  Tobias remained lounging on the desk rather than peek out of windows like a lovesick schoolboy. “She doesn’t like to be called Em.”

  Caleb ambled across the library. “She told you that? Most women like pet names.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re an expert on most women, but trust me when I say Emily bristles each time you presume upon her Christian name, particularly when you do it in front of others and in a condescending tone. If you mean to court her, respect is imperative.”

  Caleb’s brows rose. “My regard for Emily is entirely sincere. I esteem her above all other women.”

  “Excellent, but does she esteem you over all other men? Will shouting at her before me and a pair of clerks win you that objective?”

  And what would Caleb have done had Dorning not intervened? Laid hands on Emily? In that event, Tobias would have laid hands on Caleb, and Osgood might well have sent both of his loyal minions packing.

  “I blundered badly.” Caleb’s boyish chagrin would have done the late, great Mr. Garrick proud. “My apology to the lady will more than make up for my error, I assure you. I did remind Osgood about the damned insurance policies. He became testy, and I let the matter drop. I won’t make that mistake again. Still, one oversight is no reason for Em—for Emily—to stick her pretty little nose where it doesn’t belong.” Caleb gave the globe a spin, then shoved his hands into his pockets. “We ought not to leave Osgood alone for much longer.”

  “Is that a suggestion for me to take myself back to the study so you can resume spying on Emily and her swain?” Though nobody appeared to be strolling in the garden as yet.

  Caleb’s ears gave him away. He could control his features, but a redhead’s tendency to flush with temper or excitement was apparently involuntary, at least in his case.

  “I do not spy, Tobias. I safeguard the lady’s good name. Emily has a chaperone. Blasted Briggs seems to spend more time hiding behind books and embroidery hoops than doing her job.”

  And that was another problem. “Briggs bears watching. I’ve set the housekeeper to befriending her, but I know from experience that task is very uphill work.”

  Caleb consulted an ornate pocket watch. “Shouldn’t you be competing with me for Emily’s affection, old man? If you’re attempting to charm her, your effort is too subtle by half.”

  “My strategy was honestly to let you fall on your sword—which you were well on your way to doing when Dorning intervened—and then I would step in, the reasonable, respectful alternative.” The best strategies were always the least complicated.

  “I will wield my sword rather than fall upon it,” Caleb retorted, wiggling his eyebrows. “You stand around all puckered and proud, barking at the clerks and toadying to Osgood. That won’t win the fair maid. I am far from perfect, but I will make Emily an excellent husband.”

  “You had better.”

  Caleb slid his watch back into its pocket. “You’re ceding the field? Any tradesman knows that if you offer the customer a choice, or several choices, the result is more likely to be a purchase than if you show her only the one product or one product at a time. Even if you’re to be the lesser choice, you have to make some sort of effort, Tobias. Most women like to be pursued, even if they aren’t particularly enamored of the pursuer.”

  “Perhaps you ought to write a book about how most women prefer to be courted.”

  “Don’t pout,” Caleb said, striding for the door. “Emily likes me. She always has.”

  “She needs to more than like you. My esteem in the lady’s eyes has suffered a bit of a setback. If you allow Dorning to steal a march now, we both lose, and Emily ends up married to a prancing whopstraw. Worse, Dorning might harbor ambitions toward Osgood’s enterprises.”

  “Isn’t that what fortune hunters generally do? Harbor ambitions? I don’t hold that against a man, harboring more than a few ambitions of my own.”

  “This fortune hunter is brother to the fellow who owns The Coventry Club in Town. He’s brother-in-law to Worth Kettering, whom some refer to as the king’s man of business. He’s an earl’s son and the current earl’s brother. Osgood has all but lost his firstborn son, and if Dorning has a head for numbers, he could step into Adam’s shoes.”

  “No, he could not. You and I have already stepped into them, and there’s an end to it. Tell me about your setback.”

  “Emily and I had an uncomfortable conversation when she returned from dancing yesterday evening.”

  Caleb waved his hand. “And?”

  “She is corresponding with Adam.”

  “We knew that. Loyal sister, dutiful sibling, doubtless combined with a soupçon of guilt. She wanted Adam to be found innocent of wrongdoing, but the jury disagreed. All very sad, especially for Adam, but fortunately, very five years ago too.”

  “That we know of her letters became apparent in my discussion with her, and she was most displeased. She has taken great pains to keep that correspondence private.”

  “And we have taken great pains to see that it is not. Adam hardly ever writes back, but then, mail between here and the penal colonies is not reliable. Apologize to her for overstepping and climb back on the horse.”

  This air of brisk dispatch was something Tobias frankly admired about Caleb. Caleb never bothered denying a fault, but instead, admitted his mistakes, apologized, and got on with the business at hand.

  Perhaps courting a woman shouldn’t be business, though. A troubling thought.

  “I will mend fences as best I can,” Tobias said, “but you have some fence-mending to do as well. We haven’t spent years toiling in Osgood’s warehouses so Valerian Dorning can waltz off with Emily’s fortune.”

  “I don’t think he’s that sort,” Caleb said, pausing before a pier glass to examine his teeth. “I think Dorning is more the kind to waltz off with a lady’s heart, and I wish him the joy of that thankless enterprise. Do we blame the Walmers for the unpaid insurance premiums?”

  “We let the matter drop. Osgood apparently forgot to send the bank drafts up to Town, and Emily has brought that to his attention. You should know I’ve suggested we have a shipwright look over our plans for the merchantman. Osgood seems amenable to that notion.”

  Caleb brushed a hand over his hair, straightened, and scowled at Tobias’s reflection in the mirror. “Was that necessary?”

  “No, but recall your lessons on how to handle ladies shopping for fabric. You initially ask the customer for things she can easily agree to: ‘Mrs. Smith, won’t you please step this way, hold t
hat fabric up to the light, consider this combination?’ Mrs. Smith obliges out basic good manners. Then, when you ask her to make the actual purchase, the habit of acceding to your requests benefits you and your bank balance.”

  Tobias was first out the door, knowing Caleb would follow rather than lurk at the windows.

  “So you’ve asked Osgood to summon a shipwright, and he said yes.” Caleb pulled the library door closed and set off down the corridor. “What’s the next request?”

  “To allow me to take a hand in the renovations.” Emily would be grateful to be free of that burden.

  “And the next?”

  To send you back to London. “Perhaps to hold a ball so Emily has something besides wallpaper and men’s business dealings to interest her. I know not what my specific request might be, but an inventory of goodwill with one’s employer is always a valuable asset.”

  “Maybe you should write a book, Tobias. Aesop’s Fables for the Aspiring Merchant.”

  “And maybe you should keep your mouth shut and pay closer attention to Osgood’s unpaid bills.”

  Caleb shoved him, but the gesture lacked any sense of bonhomie. Yelling at Emily had been foolish, and Caleb knew it. Briggs was no sort of ally, and Osgood was in a justified temper.

  While Valerian Dorning escorted Emily among the roses. About that situation, Tobias could think of all manner of clever invective.

  * * *

  How on earth had Valerian Dorning learned of a brother whom Emily had been forbidden to mention to her own father? She wasn’t to speak of Adam under Osgood Pepper’s roof, wasn’t to mention him in company. Adam had been not only transported for supposedly stealing from the business, but also banished from the Pepper family for dishonorable conduct.

  And the banishment was far more painful for Adam than being sent halfway around the world to endure seven years of penal servitude.