Oh, no, Adam thought, frantically trying to recall his earlier words. Had he wished Johnny won his fortune at the tables? Or had he, as he feared, simply wished that Johnny become wealthy tonight? The surest way for Lieutenant Cresswell to come into an instant fortune was to inherit it, on the demise of his father. Racing through Adam’s thoughts were feather mattresses and gold coins and reward monies and invitations to parties he was never meant to receive and women he was never meant to meet…and a dog. Lud, what if his wishes were coming true? He’d be murdering Johnny’s father!
He liked the man. Lord Cresswell had always tried to be strict with his devil-may-care son, curbing his wilder starts, but only out of affection, Adam knew, not out of meanness. He’d been kind to the other boys at school, earning their respect. Zeus, he could not die just so Adam could pay off his mortgage!
Adam grabbed the lucky coin out of his pocket, staring at it as if the penny piece could tell him its intentions, its essence, its magic. “No,” he whispered. “I take it back. I’d like the hundred pounds, but I do not wish any harm to befall Johnny’s father. I do not wish it, do you hear?”
Johnny heard, and looked at Adam quizzically. He would have asked for an explanation but then the footman neared their table. Adam held his breath. The messenger reached them and beamed at Lord Symington. “A boy, my lord. Your lady wife has been delivered of a healthy son!”
The cheers and congratulations and champagne toasts rang out. None were more sincere than Adam’s.
“We might as well go home,” Lieutenant Cresswell said after the noise had abated and the new father had rushed off to see his wife and infant, breaking up that game. “The cards are cold tonight anyway.”
The weather was cold, too, that bitter December night, so Adam held out Johnny’s coat for him. A bit unsteady on his feet after a night of imbibing and then all those recent toasts, the lieutenant dropped the coat, then bent to pick it up. In his fumbling, a paper fell out of the pocket.
“Zeus only knows what it is. Haven’t worn this old coat in ages. Too hot in Spain, don’t you know. If we hadn’t been up in the attics finding you clothes, I never would have unearthed it.”
The light in the gaming parlor’s hall was too dim to read by, so they stepped outside, toward a streetlamp.
Johnny unfolded the paper and read it. “Why, it’s a draft on my father’s bank, for a monkey!”
“You have five hundred pounds, and you’ve let it sit in a coat pocket for months or years? Deuce take it, Johnny, not even you could be so careless with your blunt.”
The lieutenant staggered back against the lamppost. “I swear I never knew it was there. Here, see if it bears a date.”
He held the check out, and Adam saw Lord Cresswell’s signature, and a date some four years earlier, one month after Adam’s mother’s death, one month before Johnny left for the Peninsula.
“He must have put it in my pocket when I went to say farewell,” Johnny calculated, “after ranting and raving over my enlisting, how I was breaking my mother’s heart and endangering the succession.” The lieutenant blew his nose, pretending that it was the cold night air making his eyes water and his nose run.
Adam brushed a bit of dampness from his own cheek. “He truly cares for you.”
“Yes, although the old rip would be hanged before he admitted it. Damn, how I wish I could go home for Christmas—after we go to the bank tomorrow morning!”
“We?”
“Of course. That hundred pounds is yours, my friend, with interest if not a reward for helping me find the check.” He put his arm around Adam’s shoulder as they waited for a hackney cab, and laughed out loud. “By Jupiter, did I not say you brought me luck?”
Chapter Seven
They went to Lieutenant Cresswell’s father’s bank first, then Adam went on to his own financial institution.
“What, back again, are you?” Mr. Beasdale scowled across his paper-covered desk, his face growing red at Adam’s effrontery. “You are deuced persistent, I’ll say that for you. My niece thinks I ought to grant you that extension, since you have convinced her what a hardworking chap you are. In a matter of minutes. Bah! That is why females do not have authority over their own assets. They would give the whole away to the first silver-tongued devil they meet.”
Adam knew he was anything but a smooth talker, but he was not here to defend his character—or offend his angel’s uncle. “No, sir,” he said. “I am here to tell you that I no longer need to delay my payment. I wish to pay part of it in advance, in fact, while I am still in London.”
Mr. Beasdale eyed him from under bushy eyebrows, knowing full well Adam had nothing of value left to sell to make the sum mentioned. “What, have you taken to capturing wanted criminals for the reward money? Or have you become a highwayman yourself? No, I suppose that like others of your sort you quickly turned to the baize table and hit a streak of luck.”
“I was lucky, yes, lucky in my friends. Lieutenant Cresswell repaid a loan I made to him some years ago.”
“I know of that young wastrel. Anyone who would lend good money to such a here-and-thereian is a bigger fool than Cresswell himself. He would only lose it betting on a curricle race or the color of the next horse to pass by.”
“He used my mother’s bequest to me to purchase his colors,” Adam answered in a quiet tone that refuted contradiction, “to go fight the French. I was happy to lend him the blunt, and he has proved to be an exemplary officer, earning mention in the dispatches. He was wounded in the service of his country. Just recently he came into funds to pay me back.”
“So you say. His father is no squeeze crab, from all I hear. Why did he not pay the lad’s way?”
“Because he thought as you did, that Johnny was a reckless daredevil, taking any challenge or chance.”
“So you helped young Cresswell thwart his father’s authority? If you think that recommends you to me, you are mistaken.”
“I helped my friend follow his dreams. Sometimes a parent does not truly know what is best for a child, and sometimes a father has to let his grown son make his own mistakes, to become his own man. Nestlings will grow up and fly away, despite all the love of a mother or father…or uncle.”
“Harumph,” was Beasdale’s only reply to the not-so-subtle gibe. “I suppose the only way he could pay you back was with gambling winnings.”
“No, he had the money from his father, who must have reconsidered. And before you blacken poor Lieutenant Cresswell’s name further, he carefully invested most of the money in the Funds, after giving me my share.”
“Well, perhaps he does have a modicum of sense after all,” Beasdale conceded. “I am sure his father will be relieved that his heir is not a total want-wit.” He straightened a stack of papers on his desk as if to conclude the meeting.
“There is one other thing, sir: Miss Relaford’s invitation to the party for Lord and Lady Iverson.”
“Yes? What about it?”
“I wish to accept, with your permission.”
“You are asking me?”
Adam brushed at the sleeve of his—of Johnny Cresswell’s—coat. “The invitation came from Miss Relaford but the gathering is being held in your home. I would not want to offend you if my presence is unwelcome.”
He was not asking about any silly party, and they both knew it. He was asking permission to address the banker’s niece. A lesser man, a conniving fortune hunter, for instance, would have accepted the invitation without a scruple for Beasdale’s wishes, using the occasion to further his own cause. Beasdale had to respect Sir Adam for the courtesy.
“Harumph. I suppose you’d better come along to tea this afternoon, then, to tell Jenna herself that you are going to be accepting. I am liable to forget.” Right after he forgot the combination to the bank’s vault.
*
Adam brought the dog with him. One could tell a great deal about a person, he had always believed, by how he or she treated an animal. Not that he had any doubt that Miss Re
laford was the kindest, sweetest, most gentle female in all of creation, but she was a Londoner, unused to being around anything but horses or the occasional kitchen cat. What if she were afraid of dogs, or thought them vermin, as the innkeeper had, or thought that all four-legged creatures were beneath her notice? That would not bode well for Adam’s future. He was a farmer and needed a fanner’s wife, not a mere decorative beauty.
Jenna did not disappoint him, instantly bending to scratch Lucky’s ear, without regard for getting brown dog hairs on her jonquil gown. She sent Hobart the butler back to the kitchens to fetch the dog a bowl of water.
Beasdale, however, was a surprise.
“Why, I had a pup just like this one when I was a lad,” he said, patting his ample lap in invitation for Lucky to join him on the damask-covered chaise. He called after Hobart to fetch some of the kidneys from breakfast for the dog, too.
When he heard about the near drowning and how Adam came to own the dog, he smiled at the baronet for the first time.
He said, “You can always tell a lot about a man, I always believed, by how he treats a dog.”
Jenna smiled at Adam, too, relieved as much as he was by her uncle’s approval.
They were both hopeful until Jenna’s uncle added, “Of course, a dog is all devotion and no deliberation. A pup will love a poor man as easily as a rich one. Foolish creatures cannot think ahead to their next meal, or worry that their owner will not be able to provide one.”
Adam’s hopes lasted as long as the dish of kidneys. Mr. Beasdale approved of Adam’s dog, not his courtship of the banker’s niece.
Beasdale was discussing Lucky’s aptitudes and possible antecedents with Hobart, who felt the mongrel’s best point was that he belonged to Sir Adam and not the Beasdale household.
Meanwhile, Jenna spoke for Adam’s ears only, next to him on the love seat. “Don’t worry. He likes you.”
“I know. He follows me everywhere.”
“Silly, I mean my uncle.”
“He does? He did not seem at all pleased that I am accepting your kind invitation for Friday’s gathering.”
Jenna was pleased enough for all of them. She decided to have dancing, after all. How better to have Sir Adam at her side? “Oh, I am certain my uncle is coming to admire you. He invited you for tea this afternoon, didn’t he?”
“That’s true. He did not have to.”
“So you will have your extension soon.”
Adam set his tea aside to look into the loveliest green eyes he had ever seen. The color of Christmas pine boughs lighted with golden candles, they were, and he was mesmerized by their glow. An extension was not what he wanted from Mr. Beasdale. “I no longer need extra time to make my payments. I came into a bit of cash last night. Actually, a friend who owed me money came into it, so I am solvent again. With excellent prospects for the spring,” he added, lest she think he led a hand-to-mouth existence, which had not been far from the truth. He could not lie to her, so he explained, “I would be doing fine, except for a run of bad luck. My luck has definitely changed.” He did not have to say that meeting her was the proof. His smile said it for him.
Jenna returned his smile, thinking that, although his business was concluded, Sir Adam had stayed on in town. She would have the orchestra play nothing but waltzes, to match the lilt in her heart.
Beasdale frowned in their direction until Lucky reached up and licked his chin, drawing the banker’s attention away from the two grinning mooncalves.
“My uncle is merely protective of me,” Jenna explained away the glare. “He does not mean anything by it.”
“Of course.” Adam, however, knew Beasdale’s scowl meant no trespassing. He sighed, wondering what it would take to change the banker’s opinion of him. A miracle, most likely.
“And I have been singing your praises to Uncle Ezekiel, too.”
Was that miracle enough? Adam had to be encouraged by his lady’s championing his cause, and had to be amused also. “How do you know I will not run away with your uncle’s money, never to repay his bank what I owe?”
“I know because I have heard you speak of the land and the people. You would never abandon them, no more than you would a poor dog.”
“You know all that after so short a time?”
Suddenly shy, Jenna looked down. “I think I knew it from the first time you smiled at me.”
Adam held her hand under cover of her jonquil skirts. “I, too. I thought you were a Christmas angel, and I wished I could be worthy of you. I fear your uncle will never consider me to be.”
“He is not as close-minded as he appears, but I am his only chick.”
“No, he is right to be wary of impoverished gentlemen, with you his heiress. We could all be fortune hunters. I am glad he would not give your hand to the first needy man who offered, but, deuce take it, I wish your uncle were not so wealthy!”
Adam could have bitten his tongue off. He had no more made his impulsive wish than Hobart reentered the room and whispered in Beasdale’s ear. The banker’s high complexion faded to the white of his neckcloth, and he half rose, sending Lucky to the floor.
“What is it, Uncle?”
“Ruined. We are ruined.”
Jenna and Adam were both standing now, ready to go to his aid if necessary. He waved them away and sank back onto his seat. “The Majestic Star went down with all hands, with all its cargo. We are ruined.”
“Did you not have insurance on the ship?” Adam asked.
“Leonard Frye, the bank’s junior partner, was supposed to pay it. He ran off as soon as he heard about the ship, and no one knows where. There is suspicion he embezzled the insurance money and fled when the loss became known. We are ruined.”
Jenna was weeping. “All those men. Dear Captain Ingersoll.”
Adam naturally put his arms around her in comfort
Beasdale was shaking his head. “Good thing you did not marry that dastard, poppet.”
“Captain Ingersoll?” Adam asked.
“No, Frye,” Beasdale answered. “And take your hands off my niece, Standish. I cannot let her wed a poor man now. How would you keep her? In a pigsty? No, she has to marry money, so I know she and her children are cared for, now that I cannot see to their welfare. I owe my sister’s memory nothing less.”
“Uncle!” Jenna protested while Adam was frantically trying to remember the words of his latest wish, that Beasdale not be so wealthy. He desperately unwished it.
And Hobart came back, with a handsome, well-dressed man of about Adam’s age, who was out of breath.
“Frye?” Beasdale stared at the man. So did Adam, whose hopes of winning Miss Relaford’s hand were again as dashed on the rocks as the Majestic Star.
“Yes, sir. I am sorry I took so long to get here, but I raced to the harbor myself to verify the ill tidings, and I have excellent news! It was the Majestic Tzar that went down, not our ship!”
“Not…?”
“No, sir. The Star is reported on course and on time.”
“And the insurance? It is paid?”
“Of course, not that we will need it, I trust. Why do you ask?”
“No reason, none at all. Good job, Frye. You’ll stay to tea, won’t you? Jenna, my dear, fix Mr. Frye a cup. You know how he likes it.”
Frye did not like the dog, which did not sit well with Mr. Beasdale. Frye did sit next to Miss Relaford, in the choice seat Adam had so recently occupied.
Adam refrained from wishing the well-favored young man to perdition, although he was sorely tempted.
And Jenna suggested that, since Adam was staying on in town until her party on Friday night, perhaps he might care to see the sights, the galleries and exhibits. Adam would go look at a pig dancing on a dung hill if it meant another minute in Miss Relaford’s company, so he accepted.
Frye spilled his tea, and Mr. Beasdale went “Harumph.” Jenna offered Lucky, not Mr. Frye, the last biscuit, and Adam went back to Cresswell House whistling.
Chapter Eight
The rest of the week passed too quickly, and too slowly. For Jenna, the days passed too slowly. She was waiting for the dancing and the mistletoe and a chance to slip away for a private moment or two, away from the careful chaperonage her uncle insisted upon for the sightseeing excursions. She knew her own heart and thought she knew Adam’s, but he was too much the gentleman to speak without her guardian’s approval. When Uncle saw Sir Adam among their friends and acquaintances, surely he would relent. When he saw that the baronet was the only man of all she had ever known whose very presence delighted Jenna, surely he would put her happiness above Adam’s finances. If not, surely the mistletoe and wassail and her low-cut red velvet gown would encourage Adam to set his scruples aside for the evening. Who knew where that could lead? To the altar, Jenna wished with all her heart.
For Adam, the days rushed by too quickly. He feared these were his last hours of contentment: the bliss he found in seeing Miss Relaford’s smiles, the joy in feeling her touch as he helped her up stairs, the warmth of her thigh next to his on the carriage seat, the elation of knowing—hoping—that she was coming to care for him as much as he cared for her. What if there was not time enough to win her affections, to convince her that his love could provide what was important, what his income could not? He would have to return to Standings to a cold, empty, barren life, for Adam doubted he could ever love another woman.
He was careful to refrain from making wishes, except to wish that he would prove worthy of Jenna’s love. Nothing happened to convince him—or Mr. Beasdale.
Fast or slow, the night of the party for Lord and Lady Iverson arrived.
For all the masterpieces and works of art Adam had seen this week, none compared to Miss Relaford in her red velvet gown. He might never be able to afford such a gown for her, or the pearl and diamond pendant at her neck, and he might never get to touch the milky skin the low bodice revealed, but just the sight of her greeting the guests in the drawing room before dinner took his breath away.
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