| |
Lex spent the next five days as far from Hereford Street as possible. He’d never liked the house anyway. During daylight hours he was either at the arsenal with Elliot Robson or at his club. At night, he crept up the stairs like a thief and fell into bed only to toss and turn and try like the devil to put Eleanor and Henry from his mind.
This morning he’d arisen even earlier than usual, for yesterday he’d noticed a tousled brown head peeking through the bannister just before he left at eight. The boy had called out “Sir?” but Lex grabbed his hat and cane from Bickley and escaped, though not before that hopeful young expression was emblazoned into his memory. So, today he would leave at seven.
He started down the stairs after giving a wary glance down the corridor. A series of knocks on the front door interrupted his descent, and steps echoed loudly as the footman scurried to open it.
Lex continued downward, suspicious of who could be calling at such an early hour. In the hall below, the visitor was shaking raindrops off her cloak.
“Portia?”
His sister stared up at him, her dark blue eyes focused on him and hardened in a way he never would have expected.
“Portia!” Eleanor, cinched in a blue cotton wrapper, rushed past Lex and threw her arms around the girl, who returned the embrace. Lex gripped the railing, stunned by this display of affection—on both their parts.
“Why are you here?” Eleanor asked, pulling away.
“I could ask the same of you.” Portia cast a mistrustful glance at Lex. “This is the last place I expected you to be.”
Lex descended the remainder of the stairs but kept his distance from the two women, who clutched hands as if fearful he would rip them asunder. “Eleanor is my wife. There is nothing odd about her presence here.”
Said wife raised a honey-colored eyebrow.
Lex ignored her. “I as well am most interested to know why you are here, Portia. I do not recall inviting you.”
His sister didn’t say anything, simply stared at his waistcoat as she usually did when he visited her once a year. She was a small girl—no, at twenty she was a woman now—whose half boots might just raise her over the five foot mark. Her hair, the exact same shade of brown as Henry’s, Lex now noticed, had tumbled out of its topknot and spilled across her still dripping cloak. Her bedraggled appearance and the early hour begged a repeat of the question:
“Why are you here?”
She jerked her head up to meet his gaze. Lex recognized the family scowl distorting her dainty features, even though this was the first time he’d seen her pull that expression. “I am here to demand that you allow me to wed the man I love!”
He opened his mouth to order her right back into whatever vehicle had conveyed her to London, but Eleanor spoke first. “Let’s have breakfast, shall we?” She swept Portia’s cloak off and handed it to the footman. “Please have Cook send up whatever is ready. Portia, you’ll want to refresh yourself while I change.”
Bemused by this turn of events, Lex allowed his wife to lead Portia up the stairs. Very well, Portia could have breakfast and then she was going back to Somerset. He did not need a wife, a son, and a sister to plague him.
Though sorely tempted to leave for the arsenal as planned, Lex stayed to ensure his sister’s swift departure. Within a quarter of an hour, the two of them plus Eleanor were awkwardly settled around the table, Lex at the head and his wife and sister adjacent to him and across from each other.
He ought to give his sister a stern glare, but Eleanor was so close he could have reached out and brushed a thumb across her cheek. He didn’t, but still couldn’t look away from her. She was beautiful, truly. He hadn’t lied when he’d described her as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The ever-changing color of her eyes never failed to awe him. This morning they were darker, shaded almost brown. Was that because of the overcast day or because of the tumultuous emotions passing between them?
Portia’s fork clashed against her plate. Lex jerked his gaze away, but not before noticing the bewildered look on Eleanor’s face.
He turned to his sister. “Your behavior has been unseemly to say the least. By the look of you, and by the time of day, I gather you traveled all night. I am certain I do not need to tell you what a poor decision that was, especially in light of the fact that I have already turned down Mr. Semple’s offer for your hand. As you well know.”
As he spoke, a defiant light crept into his sister’s eyes. However, in the end she sagged against the back of her chair and proclaimed, “But I love him! Can’t you see that? I traveled all night because I love him and must marry him.”
“You say you love him, and yet your supposed affection has caused you to care so little for your reputation.”
Portia stared at the uneaten food on her plate and mumbled, “You only care about my reputation because you intend to sell me off in a business arrangement.”
What little he’d eaten soured in Lex’s stomach. “I beg your pardon?”
His sister lifted her shoulder in a dainty shrug. “Eleanor said you probably intended to offer my hand in marriage in order to secure a business deal.”
Eleanor gasped. Lex wished he could breathe, but the accusation crushed down upon his chest. He would never use Portia as a pawn in a negotiation. She could marry whatever suitable gentleman she chose.
He should have expected no less of his wife, though.
When he turned to her, Eleanor swallowed and addressed her plate. “Under the circumstances in which we were married, I just thought...” She glanced at Portia. “I was only jesting.”
“When did this conversation take place?” Lex asked, too dumbfounded to contemplate the first part of her statement. Eleanor and Portia truly had been conniving behind his back?
Eleanor waved a hand. “Mostly, Portia and I only communicate through letters.”
“How long has this been going on?” And what else didn’t he know?
“Since you banned me from visiting Mayne Castle,” Portia interjected.
He silenced his sister with a glare. “I didn’t ban you from visiting Mayne Castle. I banned you from leaving Somerset without my permission. You never asked to return.” Lex turned to Eleanor again. “What do you mean by ‘mostly’?”
She opened her eyes wide. “Henry and I visited her two years ago. Surely there is no harm in our corresponding...” She trailed off as Lex lifted his eyebrows.
“You maligned me to my sister. We haven’t communicated in years, and yet you felt you knew me well enough to assess my intentions regarding my sister’s marriage?”
Eleanor’s chin rose; she wasn’t going to hold back. “I don’t need to correspond with you in order to know what an ogre you are. Your actions alone define your nature.”
Even though he’d known a blow was coming, he couldn’t keep from flinching at the word “ogre.”
Eleanor blinked rapidly and stood. “Portia, Henry will be over the moon about your visit. Let us go to the nursery.”
“Henry is here?” Lex’s sister cast a wary glance his way, as if she couldn’t believe the child had survived living under the same roof as her brother. “I would love to see him.”
Lex rose, letting the pair leave without hindrance. Then he sat back down with a heavy sigh. So, he wasn’t the only one who thought he was a monster. Eleanor certainly did, and Portia... She hadn’t exactly smiled favorably upon him at any time since her arrival.
Yet, what did it matter? He had never cared to solicit their good opinion, so why should he care that he did not have it?
He shouldn’t care.
He didn’t care.
It was time to meet Mr. Robson at the arsenal.
Lex abandoned his breakfast and headed for his study to retrieve some papers. As he entered the room, movement in the corner caught his eye. Henry was gathering up his soldiers, destroying the Battle of Talavera.
“What are you doing?” Lex asked. “You are free to leave them there if you wish.” Though, that was a foolish thing to say if he wanted to avoid the child.
“I do not wish,” Henry retorted, sweeping his arms through an entire company. “Sir.”
So, everyone was in a foul mood this morning. “Your mother is looking for you. She has someone she wants you to meet. My sister Portia.”
“Aunt Portia?” Henry jumped up, abandoning his soldiers, and tore out of the room.
Lex ground his teeth. Of course his son was thrilled to see his sister; the three of them had seemingly formed a clandestine family behind his back. God, if Portia had been in contact with their mother, he would—
He shook his head and snatched up the papers he needed. His mother didn’t bear thinking about.
––––––––
HE ARRIVED AT THE ARSENAL in Battersea to find Mr. Robson already in deep conversation with Samuel Collett, the man whom Lex had hired as assistant superintendent. He nodded to them both and began spreading his papers on the worktable nearest the window.
Robson joined him after a moment, smiling brightly. “Good morning. May I thank you again? Mrs. Robson is so delighted to be planning the ball with your lady.”
Lex tried to smile. He did. But after the morning he’d had, the task seemed Herculean. He managed to say, “Excellent. Now, what do you think of Collett? I suppose I should have waited to hire him, but I wanted the assistant superintendent here from the start, to gain as much insight from you as he can.”
Robson eyed Lex for a long moment before turning to study Collett, who was examining one of the rifles Robson had brought from the United States. “I think he will do well, though I will let you know if at any time I think otherwise. He is quite intelligent, I see, and more importantly he is keen to begin.”
“So, let us begin,” Lex said, this time with a true smile. “Mr. Collett, please join us.”
Lex unfurled a large piece of parchment and secured the corners with small weights. He had already drawn a layout of the factory, which was necessarily located adjacent to the Thames in order to harness its water power. Robson spent the next hour advising of the best positions for the machinery, which Lex sketched out.
Eventually, Lex pushed away from the table and stretched. “I could do with a drink. Why don’t we pay a visit to the Swan?”
Robson nodded but Collett shook his bald head. “I’m to meet with a few fellas about standing guard overnight, once the equipment arrives. Thanks all the same.”
“I will bring something back for you,” Lex said.
He and Robson walked out into the sunshine and strolled up Battersea Bridge Road. As they did, the American ventured, “You seemed a little out of sorts this morning, lad. Is all well with you?”
“My sister arrived this morning....” Damnation. He was accustomed to dry conversations about the weather and shooting, not questions of a personal nature. Robson had caught him off guard and Lex had spoken before he thought. At least he hadn’t said, I acknowledged my son last week, or I made love to my wife for the first time in six years, or worse still, My wife despises me. All in all, he supposed the admission of his sister’s arrival was fairly innocuous.
“Are you not happy to see her?”
“No. I mean, yes, of course I am. However, I wasn’t expecting her and I’m quite busy at the moment.”
Lex pulled open the door to the tavern and ushered Robson inside. The Swan was old, almost ancient, and its low-ceilinged room buzzed with the noise of hungry dock workers, sailors reliving past adventures, and tavern maids calling for drinks. Merchants and other local factory owners frequented the tavern as well, and Lex enjoyed the atmosphere. Now that they were here, he hoped the American would be distracted.
He was not. After they ordered ale, roast beef, and bread, and a serving girl delivered their fare to a scarred oaken table, Robson said, “Tell me about your sister. I cannot help but be intrigued by her impromptu arrival.”
Lex took a long swallow of ale. “She is twenty years of age and resides at my estate in Somerset.”
Robson tipped his head to the side. “Oh, she does not live with your wife, then.”
“No.” Lex tore off a chunk of bread and sopped up the juice of the roast beef. When he said no more, the older man stared at him for moment then nodded and began to eat.
Robson said nothing, yet guilt pricked Lex’s conscience. What could it hurt to discuss Portia? Perhaps Robson could even suggest how to handle her ridiculous demand. “She wishes to marry a man called Semple. He is the steward of a neighboring estate.”
“I sense you don’t approve.”
“He wrote to me to seek my permission, as he must since I am my sister’s guardian. He is a likable enough man, and under other circumstances I might be able to look past his lack of connections. Even though he is twice Portia’s age, she is besotted with him.” Lex hiked an eyebrow. “She wrote me a four-page letter extolling his virtues.”
Robson grinned. “And yet...?”
“And yet, through judicious inquiries I have learned a few troublesome things about him. Things which make me hesitate, considering my sister’s sizable dowry. So, I’ve refused Mr. Semple’s suit.”
“And now Lady Portia has arrived on your doorstep to plead his case,” Robson said, shaking his head and taking a drink. “Having ushered two daughters through their marriageable years, I can see why you are in such a state.”
In a state? Did he truly seem to be in one? Lex took that as a reminder to keep a tight rein on his emotions. He couldn’t let them once again affect his decisions. He shrugged to project a calm air and said, “It is a straightforward enough matter. The man is unsuitable for my sister. I turned him down.”
Robson cut a piece of beef and chewed thoughtfully, a benign action that somehow made Lex’s pulse race with dread. He put his head down and concentrated on his own meal.
“You have informed Lady Portia of your concerns, haven’t you?” Robson finally asked, raising his voice over a sudden cheer from the far corner.
“I told her he was unsuitable.”
“Of course you did. And naturally, she is a young woman who trusts her older brother’s judgment, who has no reason to doubt the wisdom of someone so close to her, of someone who has always looked out for her best interests.” Robson set his fork down and rolled his shoulders. “I wonder, then, if perhaps the fragile state of her lovesick mind is causing her not to see the matter as clearly as you do.”
Lex’s relationship with his sister was nothing like what Robson described. Still, Portia should trust him. He did have her best interests at heart. He wasn’t such an ogre that he didn’t care about her happiness, nor had he ever had any intention of using Portia’s maiden status to further a business deal. Perhaps her mind truly was clouded by her feelings for Semple. What Eleanor’s excuse was, Lex couldn’t say.
“On the other hand,” Robson continued unexpectedly, “perhaps Lady Portia’s full faculties could be restored by a simple explanation of Semple’s transgressions.”
Lex jerked his head up and stared at Robson. Was the older man criticizing his handling of the situation?
Robson leaned forward. “Lex, it might be uncomfortable to talk to your sister about whatever delicate issue plagues Mr. Semple, but in the end she should see reason—if she is a rational girl, and you have given me no reason to believe otherwise. Have Eleanor accompany you. I’m sure her presence will help allay any of Lady Portia’s concerns.” The American leaned back and waved a hand through the air. “Then, afterwards, distraction is the key. Get your sister out and about where she can meet other young men who will make her forget Mr. Semple. Simple.”
“Simpler just to reiterate my refusal and send her back to Somerset.”
Robson burst out laughing, which made Lex realize he’d voiced his private thought. How embarrassing. But as he watched the American’s eyes brighten with mirth, he couldn’t help but smile in return. It almost felt natural.
“Of course it would be easier,” Robson said, nodding. “But you might lose the admiration and love of your sister. Family relationships require a lot of hard work—but they are worth it in the end.”
Lex’s smile vanished.
I’m sorry, son. Those words, issued on a dying breath, echoed in his mind.
Sorry means nothing when you are dead, Father.
Family relationships were not always worth it. Quite often they left one crushed and defeated, barely able to carry on. Not worth the pain at all.
Robson sought his gaze. “Trust me. Talk to your sister and then let her stay for the ball. You won’t regret it.”
Lex grimaced. He already regretted bringing Eleanor to London a thousand times over. Then there were the thousand regrets about letting Henry remain. Could he bear another thousand for Portia?
He slid across the wooden bench and stood. “I will order a sandwich for Collett. Then we can return to the arsenal.” Revenge, after all, was what this was all about. Revenge upon Drummond. It would be worth it in the end. It was the only thing that mattered.
Robson followed, and they ambled back toward the warehouse once Lex had the paper-wrapped sandwich in hand. The older man was blissfully silent for half the journey. Then he asked, “When will the machinery be delivered?”
Business. Thank God.
“Four more days. Do you think we can be up and running a month after that?”
“That’s an ambitious timetable but I admire you for it. You could forsake your title, move to America, and do quite well in our little country.”
Lex shook his head. “Not many Englishmen appreciate my ambitions in trade.”
Robson grinned again. “They just might when they see how you have helped your country’s army.”
They arrived back at the building on Old Swan Lane. At the door, Lex drew it open and allowed Robson to enter first. “That,” he said, “is exactly why I brought you over to assist me. We will—”
He stopped short, seeing Collett in conversation with a polished, well-dressed man who smiled like a conniving fox. Which was exactly what William Drummond was.