He remembered a comment of Gerry’s, not long ago.
Gerry had described his introduction to the ton, after he had received his title, as being ‘thrown into the viper pit of the ton’. How apt that seemed now.
“I see that the worst element of the gossip system has pre-empted my chance to tell you my news.”
“So it’s true? You are now the earl of Porthaven?”
Bella was obviously excited, almost bouncing on the spot.
“Yes, it’s true. I do not have the full details of everything yet, but it seems that we have a London townhouse, and a number of country estates, the main one of which is Porthaven Downs. And that, of course, comes with tenant farmers, a whole lot of responsibilities, and probably staff that I don’t know about yet. And I can’t answer most of your questions yet, because I don’t know enough myself.”
“And… did you, as this delightful caricature suggests, bribe the Prince Regent to give you a title?”
Gabriel’s voice was light, but Raphael detected a fine thread of uncertainty there.
“No, I did not. He has purchased things from us, and I have occasionally sent him a little more than he ordered, but not with the intent to bribe. This came as a shock to me when he first implied it might happen. I didn’t actually believe that it would. But he was serious. And now, I have to learn how to go on amongst the ton, and fulfil my duty as a peer.”
Gabriel laughed at the look on Raphael’s face.
“I trust that you are more than capable of doing so admirably, Raphael.”
Sophia, who had been silent until then, put aside her embroidery and smiled at him.
“Of course you will do it well – you do everything well. And you have good friends to advise you. I must say, I rather like the idea of having houses in the country. Ignore the gossip sheets – you will soon be yesterday’s news, if your daily behaviour is ordinary.”
There was a moments silence, as they all considered the changes that this would bring in their lives. Bella had been staring out the window, but suddenly she spun back to face Raphael.
“If we now have a townhouse in the fashionable part of London somewhere, does that mean that we can hold Balls and parties, and have all of the nobility come? Can I have a grand Ball, like the daughters of the nobility have? Please….”
Everyone laughed – the last word had come out in a little squeak, like a small child asking for its favourite toy.
“Yes, Bella, you can – but not too soon! We will need to see what the place is like – I don’t even know its direction yet – and set everything in order. But yes, you can have a Ball.”
“Oh Raphael, you are wonderful!”
Bella spun about the room, dancing a waltz to imaginary music, already planning how it would be.
“But now, I must be about my day. I need to meet with all of the relevant people to discover where my new properties are, what I am expected to do, and how it will all be managed. I may be terribly late back again, but I hope not so late as last night.
“Then go, for half the day is already done.”
Smiling, Raphael went.
~~~~~
Raphael spent many hours with Manning and Wallins, his man of business for broader matters than the Morton trading businesses, with Bridgemont, receiving all of the documentation associated with everything that came with the title. It made his head spin – which was rather an achievement. But he could feel it all settling into place in the back of his mind – soon it would fit into the pattern of his life, and he would know the exact path he needed to take, to deal with all of this.
Finally, as the day darkened into evening, they were done, Wallins and Manning had a plan for the next few days tasks, and Raphael was free to do the one thing that he had most wished to do, from the moment that the Morton Venture had docked, over a week before. He would go to Sera.
He hoped that the change in his status would make things easier for them. For, regardless of how she seemed, or what she said, part of him still felt that he was beneath her. That, as a Lady born, she had a right to expect far better than a merchant, however wealthy he might be. Now, as an Earl, that would no longer be an issue. She would not be despised by society for being associated with him, in a manner beyond business. Much as he loved her, and wished to make her his wife, he would never have destroyed the fragile new acceptance back into society that the Prince Regent’s appearance at the gallery had provided. She deserved better from him.
Now, all things were possible. By the time he reached the gallery, all was dark. He turned towards her home, hoping that she would be glad to see him, ready to apologise profusely for his absence for so long. When he knocked on the door, the footman admitted him, and showed him to the parlour, Sera sat with her mother, working at some small thing. Likely a new design for the favour manufactory, he suspected.
“Good evening Lady Serafine, Lady Galwood. I apologise for calling so late.”
“Nonsense. Do come in and be seated. Would you care for a glass of port?”
Lady Galwood was all politeness, and soon he was seated, glass in hand. Sera seemed somehow distant. There was a warmth in her eyes that he delighted in seeing, yet she held herself back, formal in some way.
“I have come, having finally escaped from things that I could not avoid, to apologise for not having visited you before I left London to go to Witherwood Chase. I most definitely wished to, yet circumstances conspired to prevent it.”
“Thank you. But there is no need to apologise – you must do as business and long friendship demands. It seems, from what I have heard today, that we must offer you congratulations. You are now the Earl of Porthaven, I believe?”
“Yes. The Prince Regent has seen fit to so honour me. It still seems not quite real to me, although I have spent much of today in dealing with the administrative actions required. I now have property that I have not yet seen, and a list of responsibilities of terrifying length.”
“I am sure that you will deal with all of them admirably.”
Sera’s words were warm, yet she still seemed distant. He felt a desperate desire to go to her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her, to melt that distance away. Surely, she should be glad of his advancement? Why would she be distant, seem a little unhappy? Could it simply be that he had been away so long, that he had not come to her before leaving London?
He did not know, nor did he know how to ask, especially in front of her mother. Unsure, he found himself searching for things to talk about, unwilling to leave so soon, but struggling to justify staying.
“I believe that Manning has shown you the French art collection?”
“Yes, and we have, today, placed the first few of them in the gallery. And Mr Featherstonehaugh, with his usual adeptness, has already sold two of them, for truly enormous prices. I find myself, having seen them, able to forgive Baron Setford for sending you to Paris.”
There was humour in her tone, and, for a moment, Raphael could see the Sera he loved. Then she seemed to force her face back to the more distant politeness again. Why?
“I am most glad of that! There are more where they came from. I believe, that, in Monsieur Villeneuve, we have a source of paintings for years to come.”
“That is good to hear. But I must ask – will you now, as an Earl, continue with all of your businesses? How will you manage the expectations of the ton?”
“Quite simply, I do not yet know.”
He could tell, from her face, that she had hoped for a more definitive answer. They conversed for a little longer, about the favour manufactory and the gallery, but nothing of true consequence was said. Raphael wanted to ask more, but somehow could not. In the end, he took his leave politely, his heart aching, and went home to sleep.
Sleep eluded him for a long time, as he played the evening’s conversation over and over in his mind, finding no clarity from it. In the end, the repetition continued in his dreams, with Sera’s golden eyes gazing at him sadly all the while.
The follow
ing morning, Raphael woke early, and, when the memory of the evening’s conversation with Sera returned to him, he found himself disconsolate and unhappy about facing the day. That was so rare for him, that he was not sure what to do. Simply rolling over and going back to sleep was not an option – he was expected at various meetings during the day.
He forced himself to rise, and prepare for the day as if all was in good order. But it wasn’t. He had spent the past three weeks aching for the moment that he would see Sera again, and then, last night, it had been as if they were back where they had been a year ago – estranged completely. She had been cold and distant, and he was confused and hurt.
He found his mother alone in the breakfast room, and settled himself at the table with a plate of food that he had chosen by habit, for the thought of actually eating did not appeal. He pushed it about the plate, eating a morsel here and there, the previous evening’s conversation running over and over in his mind again. With no greater clarity.
“Raphael, whatever is the matter? I have almost never seen you eat so little! What is worrying you – for it obvious to me that something is?”
“Oh, nothing. I am just considering all that has to be done, now that I have this title.”
“I believe that statement to be balderdash, if you will excuse me saying so. For something like the properties and responsibilities that come with the Earldom are the sort of organisational challenge that normally engages your interest. So – what is it that troubles you?”
Raphael was silent, still pushing his food about as he thought. Sophia waited, knowing her son. Eventually, he turned to her, more distress in his face than she had seen since he was a child.
“Last night I went to see Lady Serafine and her mother. To apologise for not calling before I went to Witherwood Chase. They were charming, as always, and polite, and we talked of the gallery, and the manufactory, and they congratulated me on the Earldom. But it was as if we barely knew each other. Sera… was so distant – I don’t know why. But I need to. For distance between us is the very last thing that I want!”
“Do you love her, Raphael?”
“I… yes, I do.”
His face was flushed, and almost defiant, as if expecting her to in some way object.
“Good, I’m glad that you have recognised it. Have you thought about the reasons that, having just heard that you are now an Earl, she might become distant?”
“I keep thinking – but I am no further towards an answer! I had hoped… that me now being of a suitable social status to be courting a Lady might smooth the way. We had just begun to be comfortable with one another again. I would never tarnish her newly restored status in society – and being associated with a merchant, beyond a business investment, would have done that. I thought… that now it might be different. But it seems not. I wish I knew why…”
“For a man who is normally very astute, very capable of understanding the flow of any situation, you are thinking very badly. For you are thinking about your own perspective, not hers. Put yourself in her place. What might she think? She has spent the last two years cast out by society for something that she had no control over. All that time, wishing for acceptance, wanting her life back. Now, she sees thing differently with respect to her own life. But what does she see for you?”
“I don’t know – I wish I did.”
“Consider – you have just been given the gift of acceptance into society, with rank and position. But she, of all people, is well placed to understand that such acceptance is a fragile thing. That the ton can turn away from someone in an instant, if they decide that scandal has touched them. For two years and more, her life has been defined by scandal. I strongly suspect that she is trying to protect you.”
“Protect me…?”
“Yes. You have a shiny new title – undoubtedly, she thinks that, if you are associated with her, beyond basic business investment, then you will be tarnished by her scandalous history, and the ton will react accordingly.”
“But… they will treat me as scandalous anyway – a peer with a history in trade, who doesn’t give that up upon becoming a peer? I am the best target that the gossipmongers could imagine. I care not one whit about adding scandal to that. I care far more for having Sera in my life!”
“Then you had best tell her that, in very plain terms. For, if she loves you as I think she does, she will make herself utterly miserable, if she thinks that it will make your life better.”
Raphael gaped at his mother, shocked to his core. He had, again, been utterly a fool. He had never considered that Sera might see it that way. Yet when it was laid out before him, it was so logical, he knew that his mother was almost certainly right.
The Sera he loved would do anything to protect those she loved. And she had told him that she loved him.
“Thank you.”
“Raphael, do stop torturing your food, and either eat it, or abandon it and go to Sera.”
He dropped his cutlery on the plate, and went.
~~~~~
Raphael got as far as the door, before he realised that he did not know where Sera was. He considered, and decided to try the manufactory first. The ton were late risers, so the gallery opened late – but the manufactory ran more on normal worker’s hours. And Sera, after the last year or so, lived by those hours too.
Decision made, before his courage could desert him, he set off. The short distance to the manufactory seemed to have become four times as far and, by the time Raphael reached the rear lane, he was filled with nervousness. What if his mother was wrong? What if there was some other reason for Sera’s coldness? But he could not allow himself to doubt – whatever the reason, he would discover it, and resolve it. He loved her – that was what mattered.
He stepped through the kitchen, and into the main workroom of the manufactory. The women all looked up from their work, but Raphael barely noticed them. Sera was there. She had been talking to one of the women, discussing a design, it seemed. When she saw that it was him, there was a moment when her face lit up with welcome. But that expression was swiftly banished from her face, and replaced by polite neutrality.
It was enough, however for him to be certain that she still cared for him. His eyes locked with hers, and he stepped forward, taking her hand.
“Lady Serafine, I have something to discuss with you.”
So saying, he almost dragged her into the small office, and closed the door. A scatter of stifled giggles drifted after them from the workroom.
“Mr Morton! Oh… my Lord… What…”
Sera’s words were cut of as Raphael’s lips found hers. For a moment, she was stiff, unyielding in his arms, then she simply melted against him, her arms finding their way around him, as his hand slid up to cup her cheek. Minutes passed.
Sera returned the kiss, with a passion to match Raphael’s, and he felt his body heat all over. Surely, she could not kiss him so ardently, if she did not still love him?
When they finally broke apart, just far enough to breathe, he could feel her heart pounding where she rested against him. She looked into his eyes with a quizzical expression, leaving it to him to speak.
“Sera… I have wanted to kiss you like that, again and again. These past weeks have been torture, being apart from you for so long. I love you. I had already told you that. But… this time apart has made me realise just how impossible it would be for me to live without you. Sera – will you marry me?”
Sera drew in a sharp gasp, and a look of pain and confusion filled her face.
“Raphael… I… I love you. But… marry you? How can you even consider marrying me, when that would ally my scandalous background with you, and make your acceptance into the ton even harder? You have worked so hard for the crown, and for yourself and your family – you deserve this recognition, and I would do nothing to mar that. I have lived with the disapprobation of the ton for far too long to wish it upon anyone else.”
Raphael laughed. It was a sound full of joy and relief. He swept Sera u
p, and spun around with her, causing papers to go flying from the desk of the tiny office.
“Do you think I care one whit for that? It will be hard no matter what, and I would far rather do it with you at my side – for you, anything is worth it.”
Sera’s eyes filled with confusion, shocked that he could perceive it so. He tilted her face up, and kissed her again. Time stilled, and nothing mattered but Sera, in his arms. After a moment, she sighed, and broke the kiss, turning her face to rest against his shoulder.
“I have dreamed of hearing those words from you, for so very long. And now – I still cannot believe that you would do such a thing, would give society another chance to make your life difficult. What if they took your association with scandalous me as a reason to cease buying from your businesses?”
“Then I would simply expand the part of my business that sells to other shopkeepers – like the flower merchants, and the modistes, who buy from us now. But the Prince Regent’s approval goes a long way in influencing attitudes. I do not think that there is much to fear. I am more worried about my own ability to behave in the manner that is expected of an Earl, not having had a lifetime’s preparation to take on that role.”
“You will do splendidly. I have oft noted that you are more the gentleman in many ways than most of the aristocracy. For you are genuine, and honest in your attitudes – which is more than I can say for most of them.”
“I am honoured that you see me that way. I had hoped… that this might make it easier for you to accept me – it has always concerned me that, socially, I am so far beneath you – that to ask for your hand would be to separate you from your rightful place in society forever. This ennoblement seemed to me a chance to perhaps prevent that from happening. Instead, you saw it as a thing to drive us apart.”
“Oh, Raphael!”
“Please - trust me, let us stop making barriers between us. Marry me – we have both suffered long enough from misunderstanding and fear – let us exchange that for joy. And… if you insist on worrying about how society will see me… you can probably stop me from making the worst mistakes, for you know far more of what is required than I. Do, please, marry me Sera, for I have no concept of how I shall go on living if you will not.”
Winning the Merchant Earl: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 8) Page 18
