A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family) (6 page)

BOOK: A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family)
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Henry gripped the arms of the chair and took a deep, steadying breath. “I know I can do this, and I’m not going to give up on it. I understand how much work will be required of me, and I look forward to the challenge. I hoped my proposal would show you I’ve changed, but you appear determined to think the worst of me.”

His father walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think the worst of you, Hal. You’re a fine young man, and any father would be lucky to have you for a son. That doesn’t mean I am blind to your faults. Still, I found your proposal impressive, and I certainly can’t deny your abilities with horses.”

The tightness in Henry’s chest eased a mite. Cautiously, he asked, “Is this your circuitous way of telling me that you’re not going to be tightfisted with the purse strings?”

“I’m afraid not, but I’ve spoken with Lord Parr, and I’ll counter your proposal with one of my own.”

“You spoke with Parr? When was this? Is he willing to sell to me?” Henry shot out of his chair as he fired off the questions in a single breath.

His father’s lips twitched. “Yes, the night before last at the Standish musicale, and possibly.”

“At least he is considering the notion. I hope you offered a fair price.”

His father began to fiddle with his watch chain. “I do not think Parr is considering the money so much as he is considering
you
.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Parr has, as you know, a strong sentiment for Ravensfield, largely because his son loved the place. He knows there is little sense in holding on to the property, and he likes the idea of keeping his son’s memory alive. I am afraid he has seen your name once too often in the gossip rags, and he is concerned that Ravensfield will become a… What did he call it? Oh, yes, ‘a place of licentious revelry where young men cohabitate with women of loose morals and engage in all manner of sin.’ His words, not mine.”

Henry gaped at his sire. “I… But…” He began to pace across the room, then suddenly stopped, turned back and demanded, “Do you mean to tell me Parr believes I will turn the place into some sort of brothel?”

A choked laugh escaped his father. “A brothel? Heavens, no. A den of vice, perhaps—”

“I am glad you find this amusing,” Henry said tightly.

His father’s face grew serious. “I beg your pardon. I should not have made light of something so important to you. I will be frank: Parr is willing to sell the estate on the condition that the buyer is a respectable gentleman who will run the place in a respectable manner. I have convinced him to give you until the end of the Season to prove your worthiness.

“As to funding this venture, use these upcoming months to approach potential investors. You are well known and well liked; I am certain you can find men willing to fund you in exchange for a share of the profits or for breeding privileges. If you can raise half of the money you need to purchase the stud and your starting stock, I will gladly give you the rest and cover whatever other expenditures arise.”

Henry nodded. “If investors will convince you of my commitment, I don’t think I’ll have too much difficulty there. Ravensfield is perfect, Father. If you see it, you will understand.”

“I believe you, but if I simply give you the money, Parr’s opinion of you will not change. Once he sees you have turned respectable, or at least discreet, and have the trust of well-connected men, his concerns will vanish. I am certain the old man will soon feel foolish to have ever doubted you.”

“Thank you, sir. I will not disappoint you.”

“You have never disappointed me, Hal. You have worried me at times and given me and your mother some sleepless nights, but I have always been immensely proud to call you my son.”

As his father spoke, a lump began in Henry’s throat and grew until it threatened to choke him. He suspected any attempts at speech would come out sounding like a croak, so he opted to cross the room and hug his father instead.

“Enough. You will break my ribs, boy. Come. We had best get back to the ball before your mother sets the servants to looking for us.” He paused for a moment, eyeing Henry up and down, and then shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder from whence you sprung.”

“Mother has told me on more than one occasion that I am my father’s son, so you should not have to look far,” Henry said as he relit his candle, and then blew out the tapers in the candelabra on the table. A quick glance at the fire assured him it would keep until one of the servants banked it for the night.

“I’ve always known where I came from,” Henry murmured as he opened the door and stepped past his father into the hall. “It’s where I am going that took some time to figure out.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

Henry cast a glance over his shoulder. “Nothing of any import.”

“Go on, then. I will be right behind you.”

The words eased something in Henry. Although his sire only spoke of walking through the town house, Henry knew his family would stand by him in whatever he attempted. He was, he thought, a very lucky man.

And then he saw his mother waiting for them at the door to the drawing room.

“Do you know what time it is?” she hissed at them. “Supper should have started five minutes ago. We have two groups sitting down. Livvy and Sheldon will sit with the first, and Izzie and James will take the second. Both of you”—she pointed a menacing finger first at Henry and then at her husband—“will sit with the first group. When you are not eating, I expect you to be circulating amongst the guests, not hiding on the other side of the house. Do not look so dumbfounded. We have been married for thirty years, Oliver. I know you better than you know yourself. Now please, go in so the guests can line up and go down to dinner. I will send Hal along in a moment, but first I want a quick word with him.”

“Yes, dear.” His father winked at him. “Remember those words, son. They are the secret to a lasting marriage.” He bussed his wife’s cheek and headed into the drawing room.

“Impossible man,” his mother muttered, gazing after him fondly. She turned back to Henry. “As for you, you have rather surprised me.”

Henry raked a hand through his hair. “I am quite capable of asking Miss Merriwether to dance without your constant reminding.”

“Of course you are, dearest.” Her eyes sparkled. “I was referring to your interest in starting the stud.”

“Oh,” he said weakly, the wind not so much leaving his sails as entirely changing direction.

“A mother cannot help but fret about her children and wish to solve their problems. For some reason, you have not been happy, and I have not known how to help. There is a sense of purpose about you now, as if you have found yourself and finally know which direction to go.”

“My life is up in the air, and yet I feel more grounded than I have in years.” He put his arms around her. “I regret that I caused you to worry. You should have spoken to me.”

She laughed up at him. “You are my
son
, Hal. You have but one purpose in life, and that is to worry me.”

“I am sorry for it, all the same.”

“I can think of some way for you to make it up to me if you like,” she suggested, reaching up to adjust his cravat. “For instance, I was very pleased to see you dancing with Miss Merriwether tonight. As you noted earlier, I did not have to remind you of your gentlemanly duty to dance with the less popular girls as well as the pretty ones.”

“Interesting,” Henry mused, “how often Miss Merriwether’s name comes up in these delightful little conversations of ours.”

“I freely admit to being fond of her,” his mother said, her look daring him to oppose her, “and you make such a striking couple, what with both of you so tall. You need not slouch when you dance with her, and you know how I despise poor posture. Then there is that glorious hair of hers…”

“Glorious?” Henry’s lips twitched. “It’s red.”

His mother gave a despairing sigh. “It is no surprise you did not take to painting. You clearly lack an artist’s appreciation for true beauty.”

He frowned. “I thought you
liked
my ducks.”

“Your what?”

“My ducks. When I showed you and Father my drapery studies, you told him my duckies were handsome.”

She stared at him for a long moment, clearly puzzled, and then she began to laugh. “I said it was 
lucky
 that 
you
 were handsome. A mother does not like to speak poorly of her child, but there was nothing redeeming—or recognizable—in any of your drawings. I think you took years off poor Mr. Edwards’s life. You were such a trial to him.”

“I tried my best,” he joked.

“Not then,” she said softly. “I do not mean to imply that you are averse to hard work, but our family has been very blessed. Your father and I did not deliberately spoil our children, but you have never had to fight for something you want. Perhaps it is because you are the eldest, but you hold back. I think you doubt yourself, but you must remember what Lucio tells Isabella in 
Measure for Measure
.”

He looked at her blankly.

“He says, ‘Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.’ You fear failure, Hal, and you believe that if you do not try, you cannot fail. The truth is that if you do not try, you cannot succeed. So long as you try your best, as long as you fight for what you want, you could never be anything other than a great success in my eyes. I hope you know that, for all you try my nerves, I love you very much.”

“I love you, too.” Then, because the atmosphere had grown so serious and theirs was a family of laughter, he said, “I think you forget how devoted I am to certain activities. There is one in particular where I know I have never held back. Some may call my appetite sinful, even greedy, but I—”

“That is enough! I will not have such improper talk in my house.”

“Mother!” Henry tried to sound shocked. “You cannot think I meant anything other than eating?”

Her eyes narrowed. “When you decide to marry, do not have a long engagement. You do not want to give a prospective bride time to realize how bothersome you truly are. Now, go and sit down to supper.”

As Henry moved to go, he heard her mumbling something about him being his father’s son. He bit his lip to keep from laughing, relieved she couldn’t see his face and just… relieved. Change was good, but a man needed to have stability too. There was comfort in knowing some things would always stay the same.

Like his parents.

And handsome ducks.

He was a lucky man, indeed.

CHAPTER FIVE

I am convinced what transpired this evening must have been a dream. Miss Merriwether stood up twice with Mr. Weston, who is every bit as dashing as you would think from the gossip columns. He did not dance at all with Miss Hill, who is just as much the catch this Season that she was last! As if that were not wondrous enough, my dearest Lucy— Oh, I hesitate to put down what happened to me on paper for fear I will wake at any moment now…

—FROM ELIZABETH FOTHERGILL TO HER SISTER LUCINDA

“I’
M NOT CERTAIN THIS IS
a wise decision,” Diana murmured as Henry claimed her for their second dance of the evening. “You shouldn’t dance twice with me when there are so many other women with whom you have not danced at all. It isn’t proper.”

Henry chuckled, a deep, rich sound that warmed her even as it sent a shiver of feminine awareness through her body.

“I begin to understand my mother’s fondness for you, Miss Merriwether. While I am much obliged for your concern, I very much doubt anyone here expects propriety from me.”

“Even when you act outrageously, the
ton
still dotes on you,” she agreed, “but we are not all so fortunate as to be universally admired. By singling me out in this manner, you will earn me the enmity of three-quarters of the women in this room. It won’t matter to them that you have no real interest in me.”

Blond brows drew together like gathering storm clouds. “Perhaps you will be so good as to tell me what you mean by that,” he said as they joined three other couples for a cotillion.

As though he didn’t know.

“Humor me,” he drawled, lips quirking, and she realized she’d spoken aloud.

She regarded him a moment, trying to determine if he were serious, but she couldn’t tell. Her own lips twitched. “Far be it from me to deny you further flattery, Mr. Weston.” She saw her words took him by surprise, but she shook her head when he would have spoken.

“I can tell you what all of the women in this room are thinking at this moment, watching us together,” she said, pitching her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. “Your sisters and both of our mothers are confused. My grandmother and Miss Fothergill, I think, are pleased. I don’t think Mrs. Ellison or Lady Kilpatrick care; the former has eyes for no one but her husband, and the latter dislikes your entire sex. Every other woman here, whatever her age or marital status, is irritated that I am standing here because she would like to be in my place. If not, she would at least prefer to have been passed over for a diamond like Miss Hill.”

He couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d just told him the sun rose in the west. Then again, she’d never spoken so many words to him before, and certainly not in so free a manner. The sun rising in the west might have come as less of a surprise.

BOOK: A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family)
12.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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