Chapter Six
After handing their hats and gloves to the servant in the entry hall, Elliot and Talbot stepped into Lady Clifton’s music room.
Their hostess rushed toward them.
“Here comes the Jack Russell,” Talbot mumbled.
“Lord Talbot, Lord Ralston,” Lady Clifton said. “How utterly pleased I am you both could attend.”
As Talbot could do when he wished to, he turned on the charm and greeted the woman. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world. Even highwaymen could not have waylaid us.”
She tittered and glanced around the room. “Where is my eldest daughter, Georgiana?”
Elliot could almost hear Talbot’s teeth gritting. As his friend chatted with the woman, Elliot searched the room for Nina. She sat in the front row of chairs, facing the Bösendorfer grand piano. Her yellow dress set off the dark color of her hair, which was loosely pinned up and accented with a glistening silver hair comb. Nina turned slightly to talk to the gray-haired matron sitting beside her.
Good Lord. The Dowager of Huntington, Nina’s grandmother, sat next to her. Elliot released a silent sigh. He had hoped Nina’s sister-in-law would accompany her. It would be beyond beneficial if he could win the woman’s approval if he was to get anywhere with Lord Huntington.
After making small talk with Lady Clifton, Elliot said, “If you will excuse me.”
Talbot looked like he wanted to strangle Elliot for abandoning him.
“Lady Huntington, Lady Nina,” Elliot said, stepping up to them. “How wonderful to see you here.”
The Dowager of Huntington lifted her lorgnette and scrutinized him with her steely gray eyes. “Goodness, Lord Ralston, what is a rascal like you doing here?”
Nina smiled. “I’m sure he is here for the same reason everyone else is in attendance. To enjoy the music.”
“Pish. I doubt that.”
He brought the old woman’s gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. “I take great pleasure in listening to music.”
“Humph. You take great pleasure in widows,” the Trent family matriarch said. “Which must mean your newest friend is attending.” She pointed at the young widow Eliza Finston. “She’s most likely the reason.”
“Actually, my lady I was hoping to claim the seat next to your lovely granddaughter.”
The dragoness’s hand tensed around the knob of her cane as if she was contemplating lifting it to smash it over his head.
“That would be nice.” Nina placed her hand over her grandmother’s white-knuckled grip, apparently fearing the matriarch might cause him bodily harm.
“Thank you.” He bowed his head and sat.
“Will you be performing?” Elliot asked Nina, realizing he couldn’t ask her about her missive, since her grandmother was listing toward them like the Leaning Tower of Pisa and might overhear every word spoken between them.
Nina’s pink cheeks deepened. “No. I’m not accomplished at the piano.”
“But I remember you and my cousin playing a duet.”
“You remember?” Her stunning brown eyes with their specks of gold widened.
“Of course, I thought you played quite well.”
“I fear your memory is faulty. Victoria is the pianist. My playing is average at best.”
“Will you be singing instead?”
“No one would wish that. My singing is worse than my piano playing. My brother Georgie’s dog at our home in Essex howls when I sing. Then he retreats to under the nearest table and places his paws over his ears.”
Perhaps he should invite her over to get Zeb off his bed. An image of Nina lying in his bed appeared in his mind. He cleared his throat and attempted to clear the wicked thought. “Surely, your singing cannot be so terrible.”
“Sadly, it is. James even hired a vocalist to try to improve my singing. She quit after a month and claimed me hopeless.”
Elliot grinned. Her honesty was refreshing. How many times had he heard mothers and debutantes praise their talents, only to learn it was false bravado?
“Are you laughing at me, sir?”
“Of course not.”
She grinned. “Yes, you are.”
“Well, I’m envisioning your brother’s dog taking refuge under a table.” That wasn’t true. He was still envisioning her lying in his bed.
“My lack of being able to carry a tune does have its advantages.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, when I wish to be alone, I start singing. I can clear a room as rapidly as a fire.”
Elliot laughed. He was enjoying himself, even with the knowledge that at any moment a pixie-faced debutante would command the attention of those seated and most likely sing or play the piano off key.
Lady Clifton strode over to Nina’s grandmother. “Lady Huntington, how wonderful to see you here.”
Thwarted in her eavesdropping, the Dowager of Huntington straightened and gave a clearly forced smile. “Yes, Caroline was supposed to accompany Nina, but is feeling under the weather, so I had no choice.”
As if used to the old woman’s bluntness, Lady Clifton smiled and sat next to the dowager, forcing her to turn to the woman.
“You received my note?” Nina whispered.
“I did.”
“If you truly think pretending you are pursuing me will spark Fernbridge’s attention, I’d like to take you up on your offer.”
This day was getting better every minute.
“You understand it won’t only be me acting as if I am considering courting you, but also giving you lessons?”
She glanced at him, then quickly glanced at her hands, folded in her lap.
Curiosity sparked in her eyes. Nina might act the proper miss, but underneath her façade was a woman who wished to experience life to its fullest. Fernbridge was so wrong for her.
“No lessons,” she said.
“We will see.” He grinned.
She looked like she wanted to kick him.
Good God, something about her excited him far more than was necessary for the task at hand.
“And since we have known each other so long, I think when alone, you should call me Elliot.”
Her lips pinched into a tight line, but she nodded.
Lady Clifton stood and walked away.
The Dowager of Huntington leaned forward, peered past her grandchild, and pinned him a withering glare. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Just the weather,” Nina replied.
“Switch seats with me, Nina,” the old woman said, as if he carried smallpox or some other contagious disease.
Nina was saved from replying by Lady Clifton standing before the rows of chairs and ringing a small brass bell. “Everyone, please be seated. We are about to start.” As the woman spoke, her daughter Georgiana sat at the piano.
Talbot lowered himself into the chair next to Elliot. “Have you heard her play?”
“No,” Elliot said.
“If you think you are in for a treat, you are mistaken. I think the chit and her mama are tone deaf,” Talbot said sotto voce. “You will be forever indebted to me for dragging me here.”
Two hours later, Talbot looked ready to doze off if he had to endure another piano performance. Elliot hoped the woman playing an exceedingly slow rendition of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was the final performer.
The young debutante hit the last key, and everyone applauded.
Lady Clifton strode back to the front of the room. “Ladies,” she said, then turned and looked at Talbot and Elliot. “Gentlemen, refreshments will be served in the drawing room.”
A nerve ticked in Talbot’s jaw. “Elliot, please do not tell me you want to stay for tea. I’m anxious for something a bit stronger to relieve the megrim I’ve gotten while sitting here.”
Elliot smiled at him, then stood and offered Nina his arm. “Might I escort you to the drawing room?”
“No, you may escort me,” Nina’s grandmother said, leaning her weight on her cane and standing up.
“Of course, Lady Huntington.”
As the matriarch placed her hand on his sleeve, she gave him a death stare. “What are you about, Lord Ralston?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, madam.”
“Oh, don’t act guileless with me. I know you’re up to something. And it better not be you’ve set your sights on my granddaughter. I was not feeling well, so I did not attend my grandson’s ball, but I have my way of finding out things. I heard you danced the first waltz with Nina.”
He didn’t doubt the woman had her spies. Most likely servants who feared her and quaked when she glared at them with her icy gray eyes.
“My granddaughter has set her sights on the Duke of Fernbridge. It would be an auspicious union, which I look favorably upon.”
“The man is as dull as a tarnished quid. She’d be bored married to him.”
“That is of no concern. She has a duty to her family to marry well.”
He was so tired of hearing about one’s duty. He was in dire financial straits because of the duty placed on him. Surely, there was more to life.
“Go sniff at someone else’s skirt. Or else . . .”
Elliot might have set out to marry Nina for her dowry, but now he just wanted to save her from this old woman’s machinations.
“Madam, if you think you will scare me away with your threats, think again,” he said in a low voice. As they stepped into the drawing room, he forced himself to smile at the old bat as he led her to a chair. After she sat, he turned to Nina and Talbot, who walked several yards behind them.
Nina smiled at something Talbot said to her, but her gaze kept veering to him and her grandmother as if she realized the woman had been warning him off.
“Madam.” He nodded at the dowager and strode toward Nina before the old woman could continue flailing him with her sharp tongue.
“I feel rather left out of whatever conversation you two were having,” Nina said.
“We were conversing about how fetching you look in your yellow gown.” Elliot smiled.
The way she pursed her lips clearly betrayed she didn’t believe him, but a slight blush colored her cheeks as if she still took pleasure in the compliment.
He enjoyed seeing her blush, and contrary to what her grandmother wanted, he was now more determined to win Nina’s hand and thwart her grandmother’s ill-advised matchmaking.
* * *
Three days later, Elliot toured Langford Teas on Mincing Lane with the proprietor. Talbot, concerned his father would find out he was a partner in this venture to purchase the company and try to outbid them, had suggested they keep his involvement secret. While Elliot attended to the legal stuff, Talbot would remain anonymous, but provide the initial capital.
Inside the business, the scent of tea infused the air. Elliot had always preferred coffee to tea, but suddenly this scent was nearly as sweet as a woman climaxing beneath him. If he could make this business more profitable, he could become a full partner, not an indebted one.
They stepped into a long, narrow room. Men wearing dark aprons stood at tables packaging tins of tea from large vats. Stacks of crates stamped TEA filled an adjacent storage area. This morning, Elliot had also toured Langford’s dockside warehouse in Wapping, where the tea was stored after arriving from China.
Elliot noticed another room with glass windows, making the occupants inside visible. Several men were placing tea leaves on a scale, then mixing them with other ingredients.
“That is the blending room,” Langford said, motioning Elliot to precede him.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of spices. Two gentlemen sipping tea engaged in a robust conversation on which blend they preferred.
As Langford explained the workings of the blending room, Elliot found it odd that not a single taster was a woman since they did most of the shopping and enjoyed tea houses. If Langford agreed to his terms for purchasing the business, Elliot would hire a couple of female tasters. Perhaps create brands just for them. This idea of marketing specialty teas for women, along with using a direct supplier from Ceylon instead of purchasing higher-priced Chinese tea from the auction house, would hopefully increase revenue.
They exited the blending room and entered Langford’s office.
After two hours of robust negotiations, Elliot stood and reached across the proprietor’s desk to shake the tea merchant’s hand. “So at the end of next month, we will sign the purchase agreement for the amount we discussed.” Elliot still wanted to examine the ledgers more thoroughly and have an inventory done at the warehouse.
Standing, Langford grasped his hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Yes. I’ll contact my solicitor today and have him begin drafting the sales agreement.”
Elliot knew the amount he’d offered for the business was a bit steep, but he was sure he could increase the company’s profits and wanted to convince Langford to agree to the sale before another potential buyer made a bid.
The door behind him opened, and a man who looked in his early twenties stepped into the room. “Sorry, Uncle Samuel, I didn’t realize anyone was with you.”
Langford walked around his desk. “Lord Ralston, might I introduce you to my nephew, Harry Connors. Harry, his lordship is to be the new owner of Langford Teas.”
Elliot offered his hand to the other man.
Ignoring it, Connors stared blankly at his uncle. The man opened his mouth, then closed it, betraying his shock. “You’re selling the business?”
“I told you I wish to retire.”
Connors clenched his jaw, causing a nerve to visibly pulse. “Yes, but I thought the business would be kept in the family.”
Looking uncomfortable, the older man’s gaze slipped to Elliot before returning to his nephew. “We will discuss this in private, Harry. This is not the proper time.”
“Is Aunt Tilly aware of this?” An unpleasant sneer twisted the man’s lips.
“Yes, and as I’ve said, we will discuss this later.” Langford’s cheeks turned red.
Connors gave one last look of unabashed disgust before he exited the office, slamming the door in his wake with such force the walls rattled. A painting of a clipper ship at sea slipped off its hook to fall askew onto the floor with a thud.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that, my lord.” The man released a deep, audible sigh. “My wife has seen fit to spoil her sister’s boy, being he is our only living relation. He lives a flamboyant lifestyle on my generosity. However, I cannot see to giving him the business my father started. I fear it would come crashing down under my nephew’s tutelage. I hate to speak ill of the man, but he is a spendthrift with a penchant for gambling at the horse races.”
The smell on young Harry Connors’s breath had also revealed he indulged in blue ruin.
“Then you aren’t questioning your decision to sell me the business?”
“No, I will not change my mind, my lord. I have shaken your hand, and that is as good as a legal contract.”
Elliot nodded. He felt sorry for Langford. This decision to sell the business had obviously not come easy to the man, but he understood his desire to see Langford Teas flourish. Elliot aimed for it to do so once he and Talbot purchased it.
But now, he needed to center his mind on trying to woo the lovely, raven-haired Nina, who would be at Lord and Lady Pendleton’s ball tonight.