“A man with nothing doesn’t get to where he is without some cold-blooded maneuvers. I’ve heard he buys out any company that shows the least weakness, fires all the principals—‘restructuring’ he calls it—then incorporates it into his vast enterprise of Tennent & Company.” He shook his head. “One can’t help admiring his tactics, in a Neronian sort of way.”
“I don’t know how you can compare him to a ruthless Roman emperor, Victor. Just because he has made something of himself. I think it’s admirable.”
Victor let out a skeptical sniff. “Making something of himself is one thing. To go from a penniless young man to one who throws his wealth around—”
She gave a laugh, which came out sounding sharper than she’d intended. “Oh, come, you’re exaggerating. These things happen all the time in America.”
“Poor Allie, you’ve lived a sheltered life in the north with your curate. A man who puts up at the Savoy, installs himself in an office building in the heart of the city, drives in a newly purchased coach, and buys up companies as if they are weekly groceries doesn’t strike me as an innocent lamb. Even in America business is a ruthless affair.”
“If you’ve come to criticize Nicholas, you needn’t bother—”
“Ah-ha. So it’s like that, is it?” He sat up, eyeing her with his customary cynical amusement.
She blinked. “Like what?”
“Nicholas,” he mimicked. “Be careful, sweet Alice. You’ve been alone some time now and are vulnerable. Be careful you don’t give your heart to someone whose heart is as hard as granite.”
She stood up and walked away from him. “You are fancying things which are not there. I merely admire Mr. Tennent if he has made something of himself, and wished to make him feel welcome since his return.” She fingered the lace on her collar, keeping her back to Victor.
“Of course, dear, if that’s what you say. Anyway, I came by today to tell you that Cordelia and I wanted to have you over for dinner some evening this week.”
“I don’t know…” She hated those evenings, filled with a lot of worldly society couples whose interests were so far removed from her own. At the same time, she knew how valuable such connections were to the charity. It was her duty to continue to make these people aware of those less fortunate than themselves. “Let me look in my engagement book.” She crossed back to her desk. “Which evening were you thinking of?”
He came to stand behind her, so close she had no space to move away. “I’m not sure which evening Cordelia has in mind. Let me have her confirm with you.”
“Oh, very well.” She stifled her annoyance that he didn’t have a definite date in mind. Had he only come by to criticize Nicholas?
“There’s one other thing.”
She glanced at him, then quickly away when she found his face inches from hers. “Yes?”
“Your portfolio has taken a plunge lately. Bit of a recession on the market, you know. I’m afraid your income will be going down this quarter.”
“Oh.” She chewed her lip. Why did it always seem Victor took pleasure in being the bearer of bad tidings where her finances were concerned? “Well, it only means I shall have to be more careful of my expenditures.”
“Yes.” His hand came up to her face.
She jerked her head back. “What are you doing?”
“Just brushing away a stray lock.” He tucked the supposed strand of hair behind her ear, while she stood rigid. Despite that they had known each other as children, she was tired of the liberties he took. Lately, he was going too far.
She took a deliberate step back. “Well, if that is all, Victor, I have some things to attend to.”
“As do I, as do I.” Before she knew what he was about, he leaned in again and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.
She flinched, and his low chuckle vibrated against her skin. “My, you are getting jumpy these days. Sure it’s not that Tennent making you so nervous?”
With a wave, he moved away from her. “I’ll see myself out. Cordelia will be in touch.” He sauntered away from her before she could think of a retort.
After he’d left, she took up Nicholas’s note once again and reread it. Then she picked up her pen.
Dear Mr. Tennent, Why not “Nicholas,” she asked herself? She decided she was letting herself go too quickly. There had been no one since Julian and there wouldn’t be.
She needed time to get a proper perspective on her newfound friendship with Nicholas Tennent.
I received your kind letter. There was no need of thanks. Both Austen and I enjoyed our weekend in Richmond and we thank you for your company.
If you would like to discuss a donation to the Society, why don’t you visit here at my residence later in the week? I suggest Thursday or Friday afternoon—
She deliberately set the date as far to the end of the week, and in the latter part of the day, denying herself the pleasure of seeing him sooner. With distance, her own feelings would have a chance to settle. And give Austen’s memory of his weekend adventures with Mr. Tennent an opportunity to fade as well.
You may let me know the date and time convenient to you by return post.
In the meantime, I remain, sincerely, your servant,
Alice Lennox
There, that was sufficiently businesslike without being unfriendly. She perused it one more time and before giving herself a chance to question or reword it, she quickly folded it and put it into an envelope. It would go out in the afternoon post. Or, perhaps tomorrow morning’s was better. She didn’t want to appear too eager. This was strictly about business.
Yes, tomorrow’s post was soon enough. He’d receive it by mid-morning and still have plenty of time to decide on seeing them by week’s end.
Nick frowned as his eyes skimmed down the contents of the brief note, beginning with “Mr. Tennent.” His disappointment deepened as he read “Thursday or Friday.”
He’d waited until late Monday afternoon, expecting an immediate response to his note to her. It was not until almost noon Tuesday that he’d received her reply, and now she was postponing a meeting until the end of the week.
Wasn’t she interested in a donation for her charity?
Or was it that she didn’t want to see him? He considered the various possibilities. Perhaps she didn’t want him to see her son?
Their ride back in the train from Richmond had been pleasant enough. As he’d foreseen, there had been no time for any meaningful conversation. Austen had taken up most of his attention, but the more the boy had chattered away with him, the more Nick had sensed Alice’s withdrawal. Could she possibly resent the boy’s attention?
He couldn’t fathom it and wanted to talk to her about it. But, he looked down at the note again; it seemed he would have little chance until Thursday or Friday. At least she wanted him to come to her house. He’d see Austen again. Funny how much he’d missed the little fellow.
He’d leave the entire afternoon free to spend with him. If Alice allowed him to.
He sighed and picked up his pen. He would request a meeting on Thursday at half-past two. That should still qualify as afternoon and not interfere with the lunch hour.
Alice paced the front parlor from a quarter past two onward. She stopped in front of the mirror hanging over the mantelpiece and adjusted the ruffled collar of her gown for the third time.
She tucked a stray strand of hair into her coiffure.
“Mama, I think I see him.”
She jumped at the sound of Austen’s voice. Her son had stood at the bow window for the last half hour. He craned his neck through the foliage of the potted plants, peering into the street below. One small hand held back the gauze outer curtain.
“Austen, please get away from the window.” She couldn’t help going over and glancing over his head.
He sighed. “No, it’s not him. I thought it was him.” The gentleman with the bowler hat and dark suit walked briskly by, swinging his walking stick back and forth over the pavement.
“Now,
come away from the window.”
“Yes, Mama.” He let the curtain fall and walked beside her, dragging Moppet in one hand.
“Come, let’s read a storybook while we wait for Mr. Tennent. Now, remember, he is here to see Mama on business, so after greeting him and speaking a few minutes, you must excuse yourself. When he is ready to leave, I shall summon you again and you may say goodbye to him.”
His solemn eyes looked into hers as he settled beside her on the sofa. “Yes, Mama,” he said with a sigh.
Since their return to London, nothing she’d tried to engage Austen in could compete with his memories of the treasure hunt.
She picked up the edition of Coral Island, which she had hoped would assuage his desire for adventure. “Now, remember, when we last left Jack and Peterkin, their ship had been wrecked. Let’s see what happens when they awake.”
He settled beside her, putting a thumb into his mouth. She frowned at the habit he’d almost given up until this week. “The ship struck at the very tail of the island,” she read.
“Mama, you have to speak like a pirate when you read it.”
She looked down at Austen’s serious gaze and smiled. “Very well.”
But just as she turned back to the story, they both heard the doorbell ring.
Austen immediately scrambled off the sofa. “I know that’s Mr. Tennent. Mama, may I go out and greet him?”
She was about to impress upon him that one awaited one’s guests to be announced, but at the sight of his eager face, she didn’t have the heart. “Very well.”
She closed the book slowly as he ran off. Then she stood and smoothed her skirt, deafened to all sound but the hammering of her heart.
Nick was giving his name to the maid when a door opened to the side of the corridor and then Austen was running toward him. “Mr. Tennent!” The boy suddenly stopped short and hesitated, as if unsure at the last moment how he would be greeted. Nick smiled at him, feeling happier than he’d have imagined a moment ago at seeing the young boy, and squatted down.
Before he knew how it had come about, his arms were around the young boy, and Austen’s arms were about his neck.
“I didn’t think you’d ever be back,” he said against Nick’s collar.
Nick squeezed him a second before sitting back. “Of course I would. I told you I would.” He stood slowly and handed Austen the package he’d brought.
The boy’s eyes grew round. “Is this for me?”
He nodded.
Austen just stood staring at it.
“Well, why don’t you open it?”
The boy pulled at the string, then growing bolder, tore through the brown wrapping. He took out the navy blue captain’s hat with the gold anchor insignia at the front.
“Put it on and see if it fits.”
With wonder in his eyes, he set it on his head.
“Well? How does it feel?”
Austen’s mouth curled into a smile. “Just right. Is this a real captain’s hat?”
“It is. If we’re going to go sailing together, you’ve got to look the part.”
“Are we really going to go sailing?”
“Certainly.” He coughed softly. “That is, if your mother gives you permission.”
“Let’s ask her now.”
“Wait a minute. I have something for her, too.” He picked up the parcel he’d set down and took Austen by the hand. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since you returned to London.” With a glance at the maid, he crossed the threshold.
Austen tugged on his hand. “Mama is waiting for you in here.”
The maid shut the door behind him with a nod, and Nick allowed Austen to lead the way. She was waiting for him? That perhaps boded for good.
Alice stood by the sofa when he entered, her glance going from Austen to him and back again.
Nick advanced into the room, letting go of Austen’s hand when he reached Alice. He handed her the bouquet of roses he’d brought. “Hello, Alice.” Would she address him as Mr. Tennent?
“Oh, goodness, what’s this?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I hope their scent gives them away.”
She carefully drew aside the paper and gave a small gasp.
He cleared his throat. “I hope you like pink.”
“Oh, yes, indeed, I do.” She bent over the dozen pink roses and breathed in deeply. “They smell wonderful.” Her eyes lifted and she smiled. “Thank you.”
He felt the tension in him easing at her shy smile.
“Let me ring for someone to put them in water. Please, have a seat.”
Nick took a seat on the chintz sofa, listening to Austen show off his new cap to his mother.
Alice came back and took a seat in a nearby chair. She turned to her son, who’d come to sit beside Nick. “Austen, darling, Mama must talk with Mr. Tennent for a little bit. You may come back in a few moments and have your own visit.”
Nick bent and touched him on the shoulder. “Do as your mother says. Perhaps—” he spared her a brief glance “—we can do something together afterward.”
She pressed her lips together, as if the idea didn’t please her. Was she still holding the treasure hunt against him? They were silent as Austen dragged himself off the sofa and walked slowly to the door.
When it closed, Nick turned back to Alice. She sat with her hands folded primly on her lap. Before he could say anything, she said, “Mr. Tennent, thank you for coming.”
He felt a stab of disappointment—mingled with irritation—at the formal name and tone. Hadn’t they just enjoyed a weekend of getting reacquainted? “What happened to ‘Nicholas’?”
She averted her gaze. “I thought since we were meeting to discuss—uh—business, it was more businesslike.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Business? Since when is charity business?”
She met his eyes once more. “Isn’t it for you?” There was something in her tone.
“No.” When she didn’t reply, he said, “Thank you for—” he paused imperceptibly “—agreeing to see me.”
She looked down, so he was sure the inflection was not lost on her. “Well, yes, you said you wished to discuss a donation to the Society.”
He leaned forward. “Yes. I had in mind a donation to be able to build a row of terrace houses such as you showed me last week.”
She pursed her lips. “That would be a substantial cost.”
“I understand. It would only be an initial donation. I would like to see several such dwellings constructed in time.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled slightly. “You could ask how much the initial donation would entail.”
“Very well. How much did you have in mind?”
“One hundred thousand pounds.”
Her mouth fell open, as if she’d never heard of such a sum. “I beg your pardon.”
He repeated the sum.
Her eyes began to light up, realizing he was serious. Before Nick could feel the pleasure of the giver, the light faded. “You must be very wealthy to be able to afford so large a donation.”
“The Lord has prospered me in my time away from England.”
“Has he?”
He drew his eyebrows together at her tone. “You sound doubtful.”
“They say you are…aggressive in your business dealings.”
“I see.” What had she heard? Rising, he walked toward the window. “When one is successful in business, one makes enemies. One gets used to slander.”
She rose as well. “Is that all they are—rumors?”
He swung around to her. “Who have you been listening to?”
She made a vague gesture. “Businessmen.”
His jaw hardened, not liking the fact that she was so quick to doubt him. “Let me guess. Victor or your brother?”
“I trust Geoffrey’s judgment.”
His jaw hardened. So they were back to that. Her family against him. “Are you interested in the donation or not?”
“I shall have to discuss it with my board of trustees.”
His annoyance grew. “Then I shall let you get on with it.” He took out his pocket watch and snapped it open. “If you will permit me some time with Austen, I think we’ve concluded our business.”
She drew back and he had a moment’s remorse at the hurt look in her eyes. “I shall call for him.”
While she went to the bell pull, he turned away from her again and waited by the bow window, his hands clasped behind his back. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in his anger. But if she doubted him so quickly, what hope was there for them? And by that brother of hers, who’d probably rejoiced when she’d been disinherited. He shook his head in disgust.
The two waited in uneasy silence until the maid came.
“Please send Austen to me.”
“Yes, madam.”
When Nick felt the tension couldn’t increase anymore in the room, the door finally opened and Austen walked in, his sailboat already in his arms. “Hello, Austen. That didn’t take too long, now, did it?” His tone was gentle and friendly. No one would suspect he had a hard lump of anger in his chest.
He grinned. “No, sir.” Ignoring his mother, he walked over to Nick.
“Now, what would you like to do this afternoon?”
“May we go sailing?”
Nick’s glance went immediately to Alice. “If it’s all right with your mother.”
She twisted her hands together, clearly on the spot. Well, he felt no pity for her this afternoon. “Why don’t you do something here at home, darling?”
Austen looked down and didn’t say anything.
“I don’t mind taking him to sail his boat. Where do you usually go sailing, Austen?”
Nick’s quick words drew a smile from the boy. “The Round Pond.”
His mother frowned. “But that’s all the way in Kensington.”
“We can go in my coach,” put in Nick quickly. “It’s parked right outside.”
Her gaze went from his neutral one to her son’s, visibly torn. Nick hid his impatience and waited. If anyone was going to disappoint this boy, it wouldn’t be he.
“Please, Mama, mayn’t I go with Mr. Tennent?”
A Man Most Worthy Page 17
