Lady Wareham’s note, however, changed the character of his unease completely, for it informed him that Lady Rose and her family had returned to their London home. Most politely, she offered to assist him in any way that she could, if he desired it, but was writing to let him know that Lady Rose was no longer at Chester Park to consult.
He felt suddenly bereft – the thought that he might not see Lady Rose again was almost unbearable. But he could not simply go to London to see her – could he? What possible reason could he have to do so? There was nothing between them, after all, but a common interest in refrigeration science.
He sent a note thanking Lady Wareham for her helpfulness, then turned his attention to his business. Although he had refused Farquhar’s offer, perhaps this would be a good time to investigate the state of Farquhar’s business dealings – after all, he had not taken note of the man for more than four years.
Chapter Six
Rose was filled with ennui. Whilst she continued her study of previous correspondence, and had sent off letters to the scientists she corresponded with, asking rather more detailed questions than she previously had, she found herself feeling utterly uninspired. It was a quiet time of year for social interaction – oh, there were Balls and soirees, but not so many, as the majority of the ton were still at their country estates, and likely to stay there for some months.
She found herself, frequently, simply sitting and staring blankly into the distance, and thinking of Lord Wrenton. She missed him. Which was silly, given how little time they had spent together, and the fact that he had never expressed interest in her, beyond sharing conversation. Yet she felt that way. She kept discovering things in her past correspondences which made her want to ask him questions, or tell him about ideas.
But, most of all, she simply wanted to be in his presence, to meet his warm brown gaze and drown in it.
But as the weeks passed, she became more and more certain that she would never see him again. She could not write to him – it would be highly improper for an unmarried lady to write to an unmarried man! And she really could not send a letter to Hyacinth, and ask her to pass it on! No matter that Hyacinth had acted to protect her from Thorne’s teasing with that challenge, she could not risk causing Hyacinth to tease her!
That challenge.
She was beginning to wish that she had not accepted it. For time passed alarmingly fast, and she had, at no point, felt the slightest interest in seeking out eligible men. Every one that she met at Balls or dinners was dull, and, by her assessment, almost certainly incapable of holding an intellectually stimulating conversation. Still, resolute, she kept attempting to find a man who might be interesting. Sadly, none of them measured up to Lord Wrenton, in her estimation – not in their looks, or their intelligence.
<<<
Evan’s man of business bowed himself out of the room, and went on his way, leaving Evan staring at the papers he had brought with him. Those papers provided a comprehensive, and very interesting detailing of the state of Mr Francis Farquhar's business.
Given the sum that Farquhar had offered for Evan’s business, the details raised as many questions as they answered. For the man’s customer numbers were falling, and his last few years had not been good. So where did the money come from, to be able to make such a large offer?
As far as Evan could see, either the man was skimming money out of his own business and hiding it away, or he was lying in some other manner. But if his business was doing as badly as these papers suggested, then likely he wanted to buy Evan’s business less for the new methods which might exist than simply to obtain Evan’s customers.
Perhaps there was an opportunity here, which Evan had not previously considered. He pulled out a sheet of paper and pen, uncapped the inkpot, and began to write.
He would offer to buy Farquhar’s business. If all the man wanted was money, and his business was doing as badly as this report suggested, then he just might accept a reasonable offer – for that would allow him to then invest those funds elsewhere. It was worth making the offer.
Once the letter was sent, Evan found himself, as he had so often in the last month and more, thinking of Lady Rose. Perhaps he had been a fool to not have expressed an interest in her, for herself, when he’d had the chance… but she was a Duke’s daughter, and he was just a Baron – and one tainted by trade as well.
He shook his head in frustration. So often, he wished that she was there, that he might talk to her, spend time with her, share his ideas and hear her thoughts. But he could not simply turn up on her doorstep in London, and ask to court her – could he?
<<<
Two weeks passed, and the trees all turned to gold and red outside his window.
Evan closed the ledger with satisfaction. The business was doing better than ever, and the estate had provided a larger harvest than expected. His father would have been proud. Hugh had commented only the day before on the value of the newer farming methods, in increasing the yield from all of their fields. Matters such as that, Evan left to Hugh – his brother cared little for refrigeration, and the vagaries of food preservation, but he was obsessive about the land, and the care of their tenant farmers.
A tap came at the door.
“Enter.”
“My Lord, there is another letter just delivered.”
Evan took the letter from the tray, and broke the seal as the footman left the room. It was from Farquhar. He had begun to wonder if his own letter had gone astray, it had been so long without a reply.
He unfolded it, and scanned its contents quickly. The tone was abrupt and almost angry. The man almost castigated him for being fool enough to have refused his offer, and insisted, most vehemently, that he would never consider selling his business to Evan. Evan sighed. It was no more than he had expected, but a little courtesy might have been more pleasant.
Well, now he knew where he stood – he would ignore Farquhar, and continue to build his own business, as well as continue his experiments with small refrigeration buildings.
<<<
Francis Farquhar had been surprised when the second letter from Wrenton arrived.
Surprised and angry – how dare the man! He had dashed off his reply and sent it, still grinding his teeth at the hide of the man. Now, he would not simply apply leverage to obtain Wrenton’s ice-house business – he would, if he could, damage Wrenton’s finances, and perhaps reputation, in the process.
All he needed was the opportunity.
He set his man of business to digging into Wrenton’s life and family – surely, like most of the upper classes, there were secrets hidden away – secrets which could be used against him. He also sent some men, very quietly, to watch the movements of Lady Rose Gardenbrook, and of the residents of Chester Park.
The shopkeeper, that day weeks past, had told him all about the customers who had just been in to order provisions sent to Chester Park. He had been proud of supplying the nobility, and all too ready to gossip. True, there had been no sign since of an association between Wrenton, and Lady Rose – but Farquhar liked to keep his options open.
<<<
It was the last week of September. Half of her six months’ respite from Thorne’s teasing was gone, and she was no closer to having found a man she would wish to marry. That annoying little voice in her mind spoke up as she thought that – ‘oh, but you have – you never stop thinking about Lord Wrenton. You just don’t believe that he cares for you, even though you have done nothing to discover the truth of that’.
Irritated, she put down the book which she had been trying to read, and left the library. Tea and cakes in the parlour would surely make her feel better.
Fifteen minutes later, as she bit into a pink iced cake, her father came into the parlour with a letter in his hand. Everyone looked up, wondering what was significant enough to bring him straight to them with news.
“Hyacinth has invited all of us back to Chester Park for a few weeks. As there is little of importanc
e happening in London in the next month, I have decided that we will go as she asks. Therefore, you will need to be ready to depart three days from now.”
The room exploded into discussion, as all of her sisters spoke about what they would take, what needed to be arranged, and more. Rose proceeded to slowly eat the cake, allowing the noise to wash over her. Her heart was racing – if she was at Chester Park, might she see Lord Wrenton again?
That three days was hectic, and Rose, having informed Millie of what would need to be packed, simply left her to it. But all the while, her thoughts were on Lord Wrenton – even when she was attending a dinner, the night before they were to leave. She feared that poor Lord Albert Dulwich, beside whom she was seated, thought her quite the strangest woman he had ever met.
But, finally, the morning arrived, and she woke from dreams of Lord Wrenton, to dress for travelling. As a family, they were remarkably good at compressing themselves and their servants into four large carriages efficiently, and soon they were rolling out of London. As they passed into the countryside, Rose breathed deeply of the fresh clean air, and leant back, watching the autumn toned scenery pass by. Beside her, Camellia smiled.
“You look happier, just now, Rose, than you have for the last few months – has London truly been that hard to bear?”
Rose laughed softly, shaking her head.
“Not really. But I have found myself disappointed in the range of gentlemen whom I might consider as a husband. I fear that I may not succeed at Hyacinth’s challenge. Yet I cannot bring myself to accept anything other than love. I suspect that my standards are too high to make this easy, for I also want a man with whom I can have an intelligent conversation, and who is not horrified by the fact that I actually think.”
It was Camellia’s turn to laugh.
“That is a problem which we all have, although I suspect that it is worse for you, than for me, at least. But don’t despair – I am quite certain that you will find someone – you are far too clever to fail at something which matters so much!”
Rose was not so sure that Camellia was right, but she said nothing more, simply allowing herself to drift into a doze as they travelled. A doze in which she dreamed, yet again, of Lord Wrenton. A dream in which she did not just drown in his warm brown eyes, but was kissed by him as well. When they stopped at an Inn to rest the horses, eat, drink, and stretch their legs, Rose woke reluctantly. She hoped, very much, that she might go back to that dream, once they set off again.
That hope was not fulfilled, for she did not have the chance to doze again, as Violet and Iris began a discussion of fashion which soon became a rather intense argument. An argument which Rose stoically ignored, but which kept her utterly awake, regardless. She was deeply relieved when, late that evening, the crunch of the gravel of Chester Park’s drive sounded under their wheels.
After a whirlwind of greetings, and a simple meal, she fell, exhausted, into bed.
Her last thought as she drifted into sleep was of whether she could, somehow, get a message to Lord Wrenton, however improprietous that might be, to let him know that they were back at Chester Park.
<<<
Evan had gone into town for the afternoon, to discuss the forward plans for the use of his ice-houses with a number of local merchants. As always, he stopped in to the coffee shop afterwards, to simply watch the world go by as he sipped, and think about his next business moves.
Around him, the multiple conversations of patrons at other tables mixed into a tangle of sound, from which snippets came to him – a broken telling of the shattered parts of dozens of stories of daily life. Mostly, he ignored it, but as he set down his coffee cup, he caught the words ‘at Chester Park’. He turned slightly in his chair, attempting to identify where the speaker was.
It became rapidly obvious that the voice was that of the proprietor of the shop, who was speaking to the people at the table behind his. The man went on, as Evan listened carefully.
“Oh yes, that fancy London Duke and all his pretty daughters are back at Chester Park, to visit the daughter that’s now the new Lady Chester. We’re all hoping that they’ll spend some time in town, and visit our shops. Arrived just last night, they did – our Jimmy was out to Chester Park with a delivery, and Cook told him all about it.”
Evan’s mouth was suddenly unaccountably dry. He sipped his coffee to moisten it, as his heart thundered.
Lady Rose was back! Which was wonderful – and which engendered in him a desire to drop the cup onto the table, run from the shop, and drive straight to Chester Park. A foolish desire. If they had only arrived last night, then appearing on the doorstep today would not be very polite! But he wanted to. He wanted to see her again, to tell her everything that he had discovered, and planned, since last he had spoken to her, and to hear her thoughts on those matters. Well, just to hear her voice, really…
Smiling, he set the cup down and rose from his seat. No matter how foolish his hopes might be, he could not stop them from existing. And the only way that he might know, eventually, if those hopes could ever lead to anything, was if he had the courage to call upon Lady Rose.
Tomorrow, he would go to Chester Park.
<<<
The first day at Chester Park disappeared into conversation, as everyone caught up with what had been happening. Rose was pleased to see that Hyacinth and Kevin had settled into their new roles as Lord and Lady Chester, and that the Dowager Viscountess seemed to have come to terms with her grief well enough to be able to smile at times, and join into conversation.
No doubt it would be a long time before she truly recovered from the shock of losing her husband, but at least she had begun to look forward, rather than back. It had been a very pleasant day, and Rose had dropped easily into deep sleep, filled with dreams - dreams which featured Lord Wrenton, as so many of her dreams had, for months.
The following morning, she woke late, and lay there, revelling in the peace of the morning, before rising and calling for Millie. She decided, as she went down to break her fast, that she would spend the day reading. Two days before they had left London, she had discovered a new book which discussed food preservation, and it awaited her attention.
After eating, she settled in the window seat of the parlour, which had a delightful view out across the gardens and fields, all of which were clothed in Autumn gold and red, and opened the book. Hours passed, in which she read, and ignored the comings and goings of everyone else, until the point when Ward tapped at the door, then entered the room.
“Lady Rose, you have a gentleman caller. Lord Wrenton asks if you are at home?”
Chapter Seven
Rose snapped her head up at Ward’s words, her heart pounding, and her throat dry. She swallowed, then stood, brushing her skirts into order. Around her, there was silence as every member of her family present turned their eyes to her. She felt suddenly like an exhibit in a travelling circus. Yes, she very much wanted to see Lord Wrenton, but… the idea of doing so, like this, in front of everyone…
Ward was still waiting, as was everyone else. She took a shaky breath, then spoke.
“I am, thank you Ward, if you would show him in, and send for some fresh tea and cakes?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
He left the room, and there was sudden movement, as various of her family changed seats, leaving a couch at one side of the room empty. Camellia waved Rose towards it. So… they were making sure that she and Lord Wrenton would sit right next to each other.
The idea sent a rush of warmth through her, for she did, indeed, wish to be close to him, but still… Sighing, she did as they had indicated, and went, book still in hand, to sit on that couch. Moments later, she rose again, when Lord Wrenton was shown into the room. He looked a little disconcerted when he realised just how many people were present, but he managed admirably. He drew himself up, and came forward to greet her.
“Lady Rose, it is delightful to see you again.”
“Lord Wrenton. I trust that you are w
ell, and that your business interests prosper?”
“I am well, and yes, business is also prospering.”
“Please, be seated – might I offer you some of the tea and cakes that Anne has just brought in?”
Rose sat, and Lord Wrenton seated himself beside her. She could sense the warmth of his body, so close was he, and she felt a slight flush rise in her cheeks. She knew very well that, although they all pretended to be doing other things, her family were studying her under lowered lashes.
“That would be delightful, Lady Rose.”
Anne set the tea tray on a small table close to Rose, and Rose poured tea, then handed that to Lord Wrenton, as well as offering him the plate of cakes. He selected one with evident appreciation, and, all over again, she felt that intense sense of connection with the man. Moments passed in appreciative silence, and then he set his tea cup down, and shifted to turn half towards her. As he did, his hand came to rest on her book, which lay between them, towards the back of the seat.
She blushed again as he lifted the book.
“I was reading when…”
“I arrived and interrupted you. I should have expected that you would be reading something scientific, rather than a novel.”
He sounded amused, yet also impressed, and Rose smiled, suddenly happy.
“It is most interesting. Some of the things that have been discovered might suggest that small changes in how the foods are placed, when stored in your ice houses, could also have a very large effect on how well they keep.”
“Then please, do tell me the details.” He sipped his tea, and took another cake. Rose glanced around again. She did not, so very much did not, wish to have this conversation with so many of her siblings surrounding them. Perhaps… Lord Wrenton, it seemed, had seen that glance, for when her eyes returned to him, he gave a tiny nod. “Might I take you for a drive? I came in my phaeton, which has room for two, and a maid or footman. That way, we can discuss matters of interest to us, and not force such conversation upon everyone else.”
A Bluestocking for a Baron : Book 3: Rose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 5
