“If you would?” She motioned for him to give her the books.
“I’ll carry them for you.”
“That’s not necessary. Please just place yours on top of mine.”
“No, really, I would like to help—”
“Please do as I ask. I prefer it that way.”
“That I can see.” He set the books in her arms.
“So, ah…” Heath cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Me, too.” She looked away. “But thank you all the same.” The topic of her ne’er-do-well, cheating mate layered tension atop the already uncomfortable atmosphere. “How’s your father?”
“Very well, thank you. Still tutoring. With a family in Southampton, actually.”
“Oh. How nice. Please send him my regards…” Not that Mr. Bartlett would want them, but it was the proper thing to say. Biting her lower lip, she told herself that it was unimportant as she asked, “And you? Are you…ah, married?”
She held her breath.
“I hope to be shortly.”
Her stomach clenched. “So you’re engaged?”
His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed as if ready for a fight. “I’m in discussions and am hopeful of a positive conclusion.”
“Sounds so romantic,” she muttered under her breath.
“I’m a barrister now, Tess. I work for Solicitor-General Dagwood himself. Some count me a fine catch.” His tone was defensive.
She looked up. “That’s not what I meant—”
“In fact, I have an important meeting to attend, the Andersen Hall board of trustees, and don’t have time to stand around and reminisce. I know I’ve certainly not spent one moment dwelling on times better left forgotten.”
“Forgotten?” Even though minutes ago she’d thought the same thing, she frowned. “Really, Heath—”
“Good day, Lady Golding.” Smartly, he bowed.
Her spine stiffened. They had agreed never to use anything other than their Christian names. And to use her husband’s!
He spun on his heel, but then stopped and turned. “I suppose it will be another ten years before we see each other again.”
Pasting a false smile on her face, she cooed, “Mayhap twenty, if we’re lucky. Don’t want to waste time reminiscing over nothing, do we?”
“Until then.” Bowing once more, he marched down the hallway, turned a corner, and was gone.
Tess fumed, until she realized that she still had no idea where she was. Hugging the books so hard they dug into her ribs, she turned her back on the direction Heath had gone. She’d be damned if she’d follow him. She’d rather walk in circles until she expired from lack of food and drink!
Making her way down another corridor, she seethed and ranted in her head, until she suddenly realized that unshed tears burned the backs of her eyes and her heart ached with the sadness of dreams lost forever.
She hated feeling this way; it reminded her of when she’d been married to Quentin, and all those dreadful years after.
“I won’t see him again for years,” she muttered to herself, wondering if she believed it, wondering why she cared, and wondering who the woman was who’d captured Heath Bartlett’s heart.
Chapter 3
“Mr. Bartlett,” the butler announced as Heath entered the femininely-appointed rose salon of Lord and Lady Bright, the people he hoped to call “family” soon.
Miss Penelope Whilom, the focus of his aspirations, sat in a floral chair before the open window, an embroidery in her gentle hands. She looked up, and a shy smile lit her pretty face.
The tightness that had been strangling Heath’s chest ever since seeing Tess eased a dash.
Penelope is the right lady for me. Sweet, gentle, and mannerly.
Unlike the flame-haired shrew he’d encountered this afternoon.
Penelope was going to be a good partner to him. A gentle mother to his children, an asset to his career. He could only imagine the impact on his job prospects if he married the widow of a cheating snake…Oh, he’d heard the rumors that people blamed Tess for her husband’s descent into debauchery, but Heath didn’t buy it. A man was his own master, especially one born to power and privilege.
How could Tess have married that knave in the first instance? It was probably the fact that the man had been a baron. What good was respectability when there was such a premium attached to “Quality” even if the man had had no redeeming qualities to speak of? Having lived with nobility on and off for most of his life, Heath had had a taste of how differently he could be treated simply because of his father’s rank in a household. He also had had his share of noblemen warning him away from their daughters, as if he wasn’t good enough and never would be. There was always that trickle of doubt that they might be right.
“Oh dear, what have I done?” a soft voice broke into his musings. “You’re looking at me as if you’re frightfully angry with me.”
Shoving aside his thoughts and smoothing his features, Heath bowed. “Pray forgive me, my dear, I had my mind on…an incident at the orphanage.” Penelope didn’t need to know about Tess; she tended to discuss everything with her officious mother. Where was Lady Bright, anyway? She always chaperoned these twice-weekly visits. Was she finally appreciating the fact that Heath wasn’t about to debauch the lady he intended for his bride? He couldn’t imagine doing any such thing to Penelope; she was too kind, too sweet, an innocent in a world filled with worldly, cunning women who wanted a man only for what they could get from him.
“Was it one of the children?” Her hazel eyes were tinged with worry.
Stepping forward, he smiled and grasped her hand, a little boon to Lady Bright’s absence. “Nay, just some business matters. Nothing to worry over.”
Her face relaxed. “Oh, good. I’m so pleased that Solicitor-General Dagwood asked you to serve with him on the board of trustees. It’s quite a feather in your cap.”
“He’s been very good to me and has guided me well.” It had been Dagwood’s suggestion that Heath pursue Penelope as a bride. Her family was inordinately respectable, and since her three older sisters had all married nobility, her parents might be inclined to accept a well-favored commoner with good prospects. Everyone knew that Law Officer of the Crown was a steppingstone to still higher judicial or political preferment. Since Dagwood was well on his way, and Heath was modeling his own career in Dagwood’s style, the future looked promising, indeed.
Dagwood couldn’t have been more encouraging toward Heath. He’d taken Heath under his wing and had even gone so far as to intercede on his behalf with Lord and Lady Bright. Penelope’s parents had been skeptical at first, but with Dagwood’s persuasion and Heath’s quiet dedication to proving himself, they seemed finally to be coming around. They’d claimed that only the death of Lady Bright’s mother barely six months ago was standing in the way of the announcement.
Mindful of public perception, Heath understood the need to wait to go public with the news. It was practically official, but there was that tickle of doubt that Lady Bright liked to nurse within him. A well-placed if in a sentence, a look of question shot Penelope’s way as if the judgment was still under consideration. He wished that Lady Bright didn’t perceive how badly he wanted to put his past behind him and to secure a better future. She was like a bloodhound when it came to sensing weakness.
Penelope removed her hand sooner than he would have wished and adjusted her lavender gown. “Mama says that he was married once. And quite well.”
Heath blinked, bringing his mind back to the conversation. “Who?”
Penelope’s face was the epitome of patience tried. “Mr. Dagwood, of course. Mama says he was once married to the Viscount Benbrook’s daughter. But after she died there was some sort of terrible falling out. Do you know what happened?”
“We don’t speak of such matters.” It was partially true. They spoke of Heath’s private life, but never of Dagwood’s. Heath had heard snippets about Benbrook, but the topic was clearly unwel
come, and Heath respected his superior’s privacy. “Work seems to be his passion.”
“I’m talking about marriage, not passion.”
His astonishment must have shown on his face, for she offered a quick smile. “I’m jesting of course. Mr. Dagwood’s affairs are none of my business. We are here for our visit, so let us sit, we have but a few moments together before Mama arrives.”
Deciding that it was easier to accept her assurance than dig into the matter further, Heath sat.
Gracefully lowering herself onto the edge of the opposite settee, she clasped her hands in her lap. “Mama will be along in a moment. And then we’ll have tea. But I must warn you, she is late because she is dreadfully upset and had to lie down.”
Lady Bright allowed herself to be dreadfully upset about a multitude of things, but in this instance, Heath didn’t mind. “How are you doing with your painting? Is it coming along as you’d hoped?”
Penelope’s golden brow furrowed. “Don’t you wish to know what’s bothering Mama?”
Inwardly Heath sighed. “If you wish.”
“Our cousin George has been swindled and Mama intends to see the vile thief suffer. She called upon Solicitor-General Dagwood this morning and—”
“She went to my superior without discussing it with me?” Heath interrupted, straightening.
Penelope eyed him as if he was being obtuse. “Mama always goes to the person with the most influence. It’s the only way to get things properly done.”
“Person with the most influence…” Heath held his irritation in check. Would Lady Bright go to the Prince Regent if she had an issue with not being able to purchase embargoed wine? Probably, if she managed to get close enough to bend the prince’s ear.
Penelope folded her hands before her. “Don’t feel badly about her not going to you for help. You see, you work for Mr. Dagwood, so for you to be of assistance, you need his acquiescence. This avoids that unnecessary step.”
Heath didn’t like that his future mother-in-law considered him unnecessary. “I don’t have to beg for his indulgence to investigate a matter. But that is neither here nor there, since the solicitor-general is the Law Officer of the Crown. He advises and answers only to the Crown. Any matters he takes up are within strict bounds.”
“Mama says that Solicitor-General Dagwood will help us because…” Suddenly her cheeks tinged pink. “I…ah, well, this is a grave injustice…”
Heath tried to ignore the clench in his gut. Lady Bright felt that she could impose upon Dagwood because he’d interceded on Heath’s behalf.
“She should have at least waited and spoken to me about it today.” Heath stood and walked over to the window so that Penelope couldn’t see how irritated he truly was. Dagwood shouldn’t have to suffer for aiding Heath’s cause with Lord and Lady Bright. “Moreover, this is probably a case better handled by a Bow Street Runner than a Law Officer of the Crown.”
“Mama says that Mr. Dagwood investigates matters that interest him. Like that dreadful Beaumont affair, even though he mauled that one so terribly.”
Staring blindly at the branches swaying in the wind, Heath gritted his teeth. “The evidence was well positioned to mislead. But that aside, Mr. Dagwood has ensured that the true culprits paid for their crimes.”
“You needn’t be so tetchy,” Penelope stated, moving to stand beside him and thereby providing him a whiff of rosewater perfume. “Your Mr. Dagwood told Mama that he would discuss the matter with you this afternoon during your customary call. So between the two of you, I’m sure you can find a way to help Mama. And me, of course. For I can only be happy if my mama is.”
So Dagwood was coming here today. Heath nodded. Knowing his clever superior, Heath surmised that they would somehow turn this “favor” to their advantage. He was inordinately pleased.
Turning to Penelope, he smiled down at her. Her golden hair gleamed in the pale afternoon sun. She was angelically pretty, like a porcelain doll, and he hoped that their daughters would take after her. Regardless, he knew that they were going to wrap him around their little fingers, and he likewise knew that he wouldn’t mind in the least. “I will do everything in my power to make you happy…Penelope.” It was the first time that he’d used her Christian name. He waited for her reaction.
She blinked, and then smiled shyly, making him glad. “I know that you will. Mama says that you have good character.”
That was very nice to hear. Emboldened by the privacy after so many chaperoned visits, he stepped closer, leaving only a couple of inches separating them. Her skin flushed pink and she inhaled a shaky breath, but blessedly, she did not step back. Reaching for one of her golden curls, he smoothed it away from her face. “What do you think of my character, Penelope?”
She swallowed, her hands fluttering about like nervous butterflies. “Uh, Mama will be here in a moment…”
“But she’s not here now, is she?”
“I think…I think…I think that we should call for tea.” Hastily she stepped over to the bellpull and jerked on it, her eyes trained on the floor.
Though disappointed, Heath smiled; she was too sweet, too innocent even to flirt. A rare find in today’s London, and an excellent contrast to sophisticated, flame-haired widows.
A flurry of silk swooshed behind him as a high-pitched voice intoned, “Mr. Bartlett.”
Hiding his smile, Heath turned and bowed. “Lady Bright.”
Heath took it as a good sign that the lady had put off her full-black mourning garments, but in this instance the new color did not favor. Layers of spinach green ruffles with black lace were a decidedly unflattering style for a woman of her heavy girth and did not compliment a female with graying blond locks and yellow-toned skin.
Distantly Heath worried that Penelope might someday become like her mother. It wasn’t her physical properties that bothered him; Lady Bright seemed fit and had given birth to five healthy children. It was more the lady’s tendency to control every conversation and refuse to consider alternative viewpoints. That, and her airs. He pushed aside the thoughts, realizing that he was being critical because he was annoyed that his future mother-in-law had tried to snub him. Once more he sent silent thanks to Dagwood for being so savvy.
Pressing a white-gloved hand to her forehead, Lady Bright exhaled noisily. “I must sit. I am overcome.”
Heath grasped her extended hand and eased her to recline on the chaise just as a servant rushed to place a footstool under her lifted feet.
Adjusting her spinach green layers, Lady Bright was careful not to expose even a hint of ankle. “Thank you, Mr. Bartlett. Your consideration is appreciated.”
He smiled, trying to ignore the overpowering odor of roses wafting around her. “Think nothing of it, madame. Pray tell, what ails you so?”
“My cousin George. Poor, poor George. He’s been undone. Completely and utterly undone.” She pressed a lacy black handkerchief to her nose and sniffed. “He’s been swindled, cheated, robbed. And just when he was finally getting serious about marriage. Oh, it’s dreadful.”
“What was stolen?”
“All of his funds. The very living that he depends upon. Some jewelry. Everything. Oh, how is it to be borne? How can he survive? How can he go on living like…well, living like…a common person?” Her shoulders shook, making her bosom shimmy like undercooked pudding. “He’s a Belington, for heaven’s sake! It cannot be endured!”
Heath’s brow furrowed. “This surely is a serious matter. If it’s true, we need–—”
“If it’s true?” Lady Bright screeched, sitting up. “Of course it’s true! How else could someone take everything that George has to his good name?”
Heath could think of a thousand things that may have happened, but George was going to be part of his family, and losing everything did warrant a full accounting. “I agree, this is a matter of the utmost importance.”
“Solicitor-General Dagwood,” the butler announced, quickly followed by Dagwood’s powerful stride into the cham
ber. Except for the streaks of silver at the temples of his short black hair, the attorney had a youthful vitality that emanated from his every movement. His motions were purposeful as he removed his black hat and gloves and handed them to the butler, advanced into the room, and accepted Lady Bright’s proffered hand.
Heath stood.
“Madame.” Dagwood bowed, then his dark eyes fixed with Heath’s in silent communion. In that instant, Heath knew that his superior had a strategy for turning Lady Bright’s request in their favor. “Greetings, Miss Whilom, Mr. Bartlett.”
“Sir.” Heath nodded, feeling the powerful sense of solidarity that he always felt when he and Dagwood were striving toward the same goal.
Heath could not admire the man more. He was politically astute and maneuvered through the ranks like a commanding general seizing territory. The fact that he’d lifted himself up without the aid of family connections to be one of the most powerful men in England inspired Heath as no other model could.
“Please sit down and join us for tea, Mr. Dagwood,” Lady Bright intoned, shooting the butler a commanding glare. The servant nodded imperceptibly and strode from the room, obviously intent on that tea service.
Arranging his impeccably cut Weston coat, Dagwood sat with his long legs stretched out before him, his cane resting alongside.
Adjusting his own coat, not a Weston, but decent enough, Heath reclined into the opposite chair.
Lady Bright sighed. “I was just telling Mr. Bartlett here about the terrible wrong my poor cousin George has suffered.”
“A travesty.” Penelope’s lovely face was troubled. “One that must be righted. Especially since he has finally agreed to consider marriage. Why, Mama’s been after him for years, but now, only after Grandmama’s death, and the terms of her will—”
“That’s enough dear,” Lady Bright interjected with a meaningful glare. “There’s no need to bore these men with unnecessary details. They simply need to understand the significance of this injustice.”
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