Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(79)
“Not to the extent that your cousin is a callous termite,” Emilia interjected.
“Selfish, entirely,” Dare agreed. “But not stupid and more honest than Crenshaw. We may set him up as our man of business in Harrogate, give him something better to do than complain that I’m not dying soon enough to suit him.”
“What did your cousin do?” Celeste asked impatiently.
“Mostly, Peter is a fountain of information. For instance, he told me that our gardener, Mr. Arthur, is actually Arthur Crenshaw, father to the wretch who took your funds and threw out your servants. Our gardener owns the house Frederick Crenshaw and his ruffian son occupied. Mr. Arthur is an old friend of Emilia’s grandfather. They worked on the bog garden together, and he’s kept it up all these years. The executor didn’t know that Frederick Crenshaw wasn’t the man specified by your grandfather as his trusted agent. The banker knew and didn’t care.”
Emilia could only stare at him in disbelief. “I remember grandda’s friend. Is that why he’s been hiding from me?”
“We should let Peter tell the story over dinner,” Erran suggested.
“He’s back?” Emilia blinked in astonishment.
“He’s to escort my family to London,” Dare acknowledged. “He’s eager to return to his family, so my mother is packing as we speak.”
“His family?” Emilia asked faintly. “The one measuring your home to see if it suits?”
Dare chuckled and kissed her forehead. “As I said, he might be more useful than I thought possible. I’ve been rather goal-directed for a long time and hadn’t really paid him much attention.”
“Goal directed being a polite way of saying obsessed with money and success?” Emilia asked with amusement, willing to be distracted.
“Ashford loves a good story,” Celeste added. “We have much to celebrate, so let us do it properly. I’ll see if Christie will be up to joining us.” Leaving Erran holding their daughter, Celeste removed the squirming protesting infant from Emilia’s arms. “Go, say farewell to your family.”
“I love you, my published author and celebrated botanist,” Dare whispered, holding out his hand to help her up, then kissing her until her toes curled.
Titles meant nothing to her, but his kisses. . . Emilia sighed her pleasure. A lifetime of kisses was the only payment she needed.
Chapter 23
Emilia was in the Wystan library searching for a volume to keep Lady Ashford entertained until dinner when William Ives-Madden entered the medieval hall carrying the odor of dog, horse, and sodden wool. Since this illegitimate Ives relation seldom graced Malcolm homes, Emilia followed her curiosity to the door to greet him.
“His Grace is on his way.” Mr. Madden took off his hat and shook it much as a wet dog does. His hair was lighter than most Ives, with a touch of gold.
Like Emilia, this Ives was not much of a talker. “Shall I ask the kitchen to hold dinner until he arrives?”
He nodded curtly. “I’ve a message from Pascoe to Ashford.”
Pascoe had stayed at the abbey to finish business. Emilia knew Bridey and her husband had been exchanging pigeon messages, so he knew about Ashford’s heir. She didn’t know why he couldn’t have sent another bird messenger instead of his nephew. Still, it wasn’t her duty to worry over the mystery of Ives ways. “Ashford and Dare are busy poisoning each other, I believe. Why don’t I have the housekeeper show you to a room where you can wash up. You can join us for dinner too.”
He looked as if he might balk, but his Ives curiosity won out. “Poisoning?”
“You can ask them. Dare is apparently very proficient at poisoning himself. I hope to ask the duke if he might verify his lungs are merely damaged and not consumptive.” Emilia signaled a servant, who led Mr. Madden away.
In excitement that she might finally meet the duke, she had the requested journals delivered to Christie while she ran up to her own room to change. A noted and Malcolm-gifted physician, the duke had actually given her dreams his blessing. Now she needed him to say that Dare was right, and he wasn’t consumptive. She wanted their child to have a father to help him grow to adulthood.
A little later, Dare caught her nervously trying to decide between a black lace ribbon above the bodice of her violet gown or the silver chain she’d worn since her come-out.
“I need to buy you jewels,” he said, kissing her temple and teasing a curl of the coiffeur a maid had created for her. “Amethysts?”
“I have no notion what they are,” she admitted. “I never dine with dukes and have little reason for jewels most times.”
“You could become a celebrated author and dine with kings. You must have jewels. Why don’t you wear both those pieces of flummery? They draw the eye to your lovely throat and make me want to ravish you all over again.”
Gratefully, she kissed his cheek. “A man of decision, thank you.”
At the duke’s insistence, they held their informal dinner in the upstairs parlor so the new mothers didn’t need to be far from their infants. When Emilia entered on Dare’s arm, she nervously scanned the company. The duke was quite visible. Tall, slender, with distinguished silver-gray hair, he probed Mr. Ives-Madden’s thick hair with practiced fingers. Emilia almost erupted in laughter at the taciturn William’s dour expression.