“Yes,” Haddon replied happily. “I paid a call on Vicky, who was kind enough to include me in her tea this afternoon. After a bit of cajoling, I am scheduled to take Juliet for a ride in the park the day after next,” he said proudly.
The mention of ‘Vicky’ had Tom doing his best to suppress a growl of outrage. How dare the earl refer to Lady Victoria in such a casual manner! “Vicky?” he repeated. And then his mind conjured the absolute worst thought—that the earl and Lady Victoria had at one time been lovers.
Or still were.
Jealousy had the Green Monster rearing up inside Tom. The urge to respond with an uppercut to Haddon’s chin was nearly impossible to suppress. “You are referring to Lady Victoria?”
If Haddon noticed Tom’s growing anger, he ignored it and took a sip of brandy. “Her older brother, Jerry, and I were friends for years,” he explained. “I’ve known Vicky since she was a child. Although it would make sense for she and I to marry, I know she would not be happy with the arrangement, and I do not wish to vex her.”
“How considerate of you,” Tom murmured, his initial flash of anger settling into a simmering annoyance.
“I don’t wish to behave as my reputation would have me behaving,” the earl went on. “I am back to the way I was before...” He allowed the sentence to trail off as his eyes glazed over.
Tom sipped his brandy as he watched Haddon slip into a moment of self-reflection, at once relieved the man had no interest in making Lady Victoria his wife, and at the same time, feeling sorry for Juliet Comber. Christopher, Earl of Haddon, was old enough to be her father. If she ended up married to him, the only thing she might look forward to was his early death and the life of a Merry Widow.
He gave his head a shake. Juliet Comber would never behave as a Merry Widow. She was a gently bred young woman, even if she was capable of cursing at a horse when it didn’t behave.
Perhaps she would do the same with Haddon. The thought had him suppressing a guffaw.
“I apologize,” Haddon said in a quiet voice. “I have not been myself since I suffered this knot on my head.”
“Have you seen a physician?” Tom asked, now genuinely concerned. If the earl was concussed, the effects might linger for days.
Haddon shook his head. “I have not, nor do I wish to recover. I do not like what I had become, you see,” he said.
“What you had become?” Tom leaned forward, setting his brandy on the side table lest he be tempted to toss it in the earl’s face in the event his response impugned a young woman’s reputation.
“A pompous ass,” Haddon said quietly. “The moment I knew I would reach forty years on this planet was the moment my world changed. And not for the better. I was bitter. All my friends had wed, and they had already populated their nurseries. Lines were appearing on my face that had never been there before. Hairs were growing out of my ears. Out of my nose,” he said in a louder voice. “I am rich, I’ve been assured that I am handsome, I dress in the finest clothes my tailor can create, and yet...” He took a deep breath. “I am alone.” These last words came out in a whisper.
A bit uncomfortable at hearing the earl’s complaints—they very well could have been said by him—Tom said, “As I recall, you have not courted anyone.” The earl was known to attend all the London entertainments during the Season and sometimes even the Little Season. He danced with eligible young ladies. He acted as host for his mother’s charity garden parties when Morganfield would not—the marquess was notorious for drawing the line on what he was willing to do for his wife’s charities—and he rode in the park during the fashionable hour during the spring months. “Did not a single young woman catch your eye?”
“Well, of course, but none I was inclined to court.”
“Mayhap, were you expecting a young lady to ask for your hand?”
At this, Haddon allowed a wan grin. “It would have made things easier,” he admitted. “But, no. I think I would not have been happy with any of the young women I was introduced to over the years. Which is why I believe Miss Comber is the one for me.”
“Because she punched you?”
Haddon’s eyes widened. “Oh, not exactly, but I am glad she did. Knocked some sense into me. I goaded her into it, of course.”
“Really? You dared her to punch you?” Tom replied, deciding the earl really had hit his head. “I cannot imagine welcoming such violence upon your person.”
“Well, I told her she could slap me, but she refused.”
Tom struggled to keep a passive expression on his face. “So, when she punched you, you... fell in love with her?”
Haddon furrowed a brow before he said, “Well, first I fell, hit my head, and then I realized I was quite in love with her... so, yes. I did fall in love, didn’t I?”
Clearing his throat, Tom drained his brandy before he said, “When you are courting Miss Comber, you must remember a few things.” At the earl’s urge to go on, he added, “Horses are not just her... hobby. They are her life. You must be willing to share her with them.”
“I will. I shall,” Haddon said with a nod.
“Lady Victoria is her best friend. You will never replace her in that regard.”
“Nor would I expect to. Ladies must have their friends. Their confidantes. Although... I should like to be her next closest friend.”
“Then perhaps you should start there,” Tom suggested, a strange sensation passing through him as he realized he should be doing the same with Lady Victoria. Even if there wasn’t anything romantic betwixt them, he wanted her friendship.
He hoped she wanted his.
“Very good,” Haddon replied. “I have decided I shall never again do anything to vex Miss Comber, nor will I behave in the manner to which I have been subscribing these last few years,” he vowed.
“Then be sure to tell Miss Comber,” Tom replied, deciding he needed to do the same with Lady Victoria.
Given he was set to pay a call on the young lady the following afternoon, he knew exactly when he would tell her.
Chapter 19
Contracts and Questions
Wednesday, January 9, 1839, four o’clock in the afternoon at Fairmont Park
Despite having downed three glasses of brandy the night before at White’s, Tom was in good spirits when he awoke.
As was Jake, who seemed determined to get him to his office as quickly as possible. The gentle giant apparently liked the mews behind his office in Oxford Street, or perhaps just the stableboy, Bobby, who was waiting for them as he parked the phaeton in front of his office.
“He is in fine form today,” Tom said as he handed the reins to the young man and then fished a few coins from his waistcoat pocket. “As is the weather.” The clouds were clearing, and the sun had begun to warm the air.
“He has a few friends in the stables,” Bobby replied with a grin. “And he loves his apples.”
“Ah.” Tom found some more coins and handed them over. “Then if you could see to keeping him fed, I would appreciate it. Given his size, I fear there isn’t enough hay to go ’round at the mews behind Arthur’s.”
“Very good, sir. When would you like me to bring him back?”
“I’ve an appointment north of here this afternoon. Say half-past three?”
“I be back at quarter-past, sir.”
Tom watched as Bobby hopped up onto the bench seat and expertly merged the phaeton into the busy morning traffic. Then he made his way into his office.
Thick carpet immediately muted the sounds of traffic. The walls—wood paneled on the lower half and silk-covered up to the mouldings—had been chosen by his father, Gregory. The deep green of the fabric reflected a moire pattern that seemed to move with his every step.
Even though he knew his father was in Derbyshire, Tom glanced into his office. A veritable museum given its numerous artifacts from all over the world, the quiet study would be perfect for the likes of James Burroughs. After last night’s discussion over drinks at White’s, Tom knew he would so
on be welcoming the banker as not just a friend, but as a brother.
Although he usually arrived before his secretary, Jasper Adams, Tom was heartened to discover the young man was already at his usual position behind a marble-topped counter.
“Good morning,” he said with a nod and a query about the contract for that afternoon’s meeting with Lady Victoria. He required his own copy, which was the original, as well as copies for two additional investors.
“I’ll have this fourth one finished before you leave today, sir,” Jasper said. “Would you like a reminder of your appointments?”
Tom shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, but I will be leaving at half-past three to meet with that client,” he replied as he nodded toward the paper Jasper was transcribing
“Yes, sir.”
His thoughts on his four o’clock meeting with Lady Victoria, Tom moved into this office and went about his day.
Despite Tom’s anxiousness—he was looking forward to seeing Lady Victoria far more than he ever had any other investor—the day flew by.
He was staring at the Greek pelike of Aphrodite’s birth, imagining Victoria in place of the goddess, when Jasper said, “It’s nearly half-past three, sir.”
Jerked from his reverie, Tom said, “I’ll be taking my leave now. I don’t expect to return before the end of the day. Could you see to locking up?”
“Of course, sir.”
At exactly four o’clock, Tom halted Jake in the circle drive in front of Fairmont Park. Apparently the horse had been as anxious as he was to arrive. Once they had reached an open road, Tom gave him the rein, and the shire had made up for the delay caused by an overturned drayage cart in Oxford Street.
Jemmy came running around the side of the house, a carrot in one hand. Tom grinned as he tossed him a coin and stepped down from the phaeton.
“Will I find your mistress inside or at the track?” he asked as he pulled his satchel from the back of the phaeton.
“Her ladyship and Miss Comber finished with the horses about an hour ago, sir. I expect they’re inside.”
Tom sobered at the reminder that Juliet Comber would be paying witness to the contract signing. He had hoped to have Victoria all to himself. “Pray tell, has Miss Comber taken up residence in Fairmont Park?”
Jemmy shook his head. “I think she’d like that, sir, but a coach is to comin’ to fetch her at five o’clock.”
Heartened to hear the news—that meant there might be time alone with Lady Victoria—Tom made his way to the front doors, one of the carved wooden panels already opened. Clark stood aside as he stepped in. “Mr. Grandby to see her ladyship,” he murmured as he gave the butler his calling card. “I’ve an appointment.”
“Of course, sir. I’m to escort you to the study.”
Secretly pleased he’d be seeing a different part of the house on this visit, Tom followed Clark as he led the way past the library and to an oak-paneled room off the main hall. He removed his driving gloves as he did so.
He half-expected to find the two young ladies still dressed in their riding garb, but both were wearing bright colored gowns, their hair piled into messy buns. Their heads bent over a document, they were murmuring to one another when Clark announced him.
Although Juliet was quick to stand, Victoria merely straightened in her chair as Tom bowed. “Good afternoon, my ladies,” he said as he stepped forward. He took Victoria’s hand first, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. The slight tremble he felt against his lips might have been caused by his own hand, but he hoped not. Victoria’s gaze upon his arrival had suggested she was glad to see him.
He lifted Juliet’s hand and gave her the same courtesy, which had the young woman tittering. “Three times in two days,” she said when he gave her a questioning look. “I don’t think it’s ever happened before.”
For a moment, Tom wondered at her comment, and then remembered that Lord Haddon had paid a call on them the day before. “You’ll have to get used to it should you marry an aristocrat,” he said, waggling his brows.
The grin on Juliet’s face faltered. “Well, it’s not a hardship, I suppose.”
Victoria waved at the chair in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Grandby. I rather expect you knew we’d have questions,” she said as she indicated the contract.
“Of course. Everyone does,” he said, hoping to assuage any concern she had that only women might have questions. He pulled his copy of the contract from his satchel.
“Would you like tea?”
He glanced at the tray, his mouth watering upon seeing the array of biscuits and cakes. “I would, yes,” he replied. “I never once stepped away from the office from the time I arrived this morning.”
As Victoria poured his tea, he arranged his copies of the contract on the desk along with an ink pot and some pens.
“Tell me, Mr. Grandby. How many times in a year do you do this?” Victoria asked as she handed him a cup and saucer. She was quick to offer a plate of cake.
“Well, this is my first time for this year,” he replied. “Last year, I completed contracts with fourteen... no, fifteen investors, mostly in railway subscriptions.”
“Are you an investor as well?”
Tom nodded. “I have always believed, as has my father, that an investment be solid. That if I’m to expect someone to buy into a subscription, then I must be willing to do so as well.”
Apparently satisfied with his answer, Victoria held up one of her sheets and began asking questions.
Tom answered each query as well those that Juliet brought forth. He couldn’t help but notice that Victoria’s attention wasn’t on him or Juliet when he was answering the younger lady’s concerns, but rather on a different page of the contract.
While Juliet seemed especially concerned with the dividends that would be made as annual profits were calculated, and how much those might be, Victoria seemed more concerned with the end of the contract. What might happen to the investment should she decide to sell her stake.
“At the end of the contract, if you don’t wish to renew, your stake is simply sold to another investor,” he explained. “Should another party decide they wish to buy up the entire subscription, you’ll be asked to cast your votes as to whether or not that can happen.”
Victoria’s eyes widened. “There are other parties besides you and me in this?”
Tom winced. “Yes, of course. We needed someone to supply the buses as well as be available should something go wrong with them, preferably the inventor. We also needed more money for the initial infrastructure—a bus barn, so to speak, to have a place to park them when they aren’t in service—as well as salaries to pay the drivers and the maintenance men.”
“How many more? And how much did they invest?” Victoria pressed.
“Besides the inventor and us, there is just one other investor. We needed over a hundred-and-twelve-thousand pounds to fund this venture. You have the majority stake, of course, which carries two votes, while the inventor has agreed to a twenty-five-thousand-pound stake. An earl has invested twenty-five thousand in cash, and I have put in the twelve thousand.”
“How many votes do they get?”
“One each. I have no votes.”
Victoria furrowed a dark brow. “That seems unfair,” she remarked.
“For me? Not really,” he replied. “I don’t wish to be accused of malfeasance, so I leave the important choices up to the primary investors.”
Victoria returned her attention to another page of the contract. “Is investing always this complicated?” she asked as she indicated a series of caveats.
“This particular subscription is actually more straightforward than most. Nothing has to be invented. Just built,” he replied before he took a sip of tea.
The sound of coach wheels crunching in the circle drive had Tom’s attention going to the window behind Victoria. Juliet followed his line of sight and allowed a sigh of frustration. “My ride is here,” she said, not sounding the least bi
t happy about it.
“My lady, if you require more time to review the contract, we don’t have to do the signing today,” Tom said. “I can arrange to return another time. I’ll need to anyway once I have the copy that includes the inventor’s signature.”
“Oh, I’m ready,” Victoria said. She reached over and took a pen and dipped it in the ink. The scratch of the pen over parchment could be heard across the desk, and Tom watched as Juliet did the same, signing her name on the line marked for a witness. Finally, Tom signed his name and then passed his copy as well as two others for their signatures.
“I must go,” Juliet said as she reached over and gave Victoria a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you again Saturday if you wish.”
Tom quickly stood and gave her a bow as she curtsied and hurried out of the office. When he saw that Victoria intended to remain where she was, he returned to his chair. “Did you have other concerns?” he asked as he checked to be sure the ink was dry before he passed back her copy.
“Only about horses,” she said on a sigh. “Would you like more tea?”
“I would, thank you. Is Sam still limping?”
She shook her head. “Not when Juliet rides him,” she said on a sigh. “Tell me, will you acquire a horse for riding?”
“Not for a time, I think. Mr. Comber has seen to it I have my one and only noble steed. He’s doing very well, and he was in a hurry to get here today. As was I.”
In the middle of taking a sip of tea, Victoria’s eyes widened as she stared at him over the rim of her cup. “You were that anxious to see to it the contracts were signed?”
He shook his head. “I was only anxious to see you,” he admitted. Before she could react, he added, “I wondered, my lady, if I might be allowed to escort you to dinner at Rules this evening? A celebratory meal in honor of your investment?”
Victoria hesitated, her eyes darting to one side before she asked, “Is this something you do with all your investors?”
The Choice of a Cavalier (The Heirs of the Aristocracy Book 3) Page 13
