A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(36)
“You are a prince amongst attorneys, Charles. We should keep it to ourselves though, I think. I suggested Kitty tell her husband that the legacy conditions were why you were with me so much. I do not want him to find out you have given in. Perhaps I should go with you to your chambers again to prove it, should anyone be watching.”
Charles smiled down at her. “Once more, then. I will call for you on Monday morning and you may accompany me to your father’s man. John’s man, as he is now.”
“Thank you. And thank you for being concerned about me, but you should not worry about any of us working in our own way to find Captain Eastwick out. He is preying on our friends, doing it ruthlessly for his own gain, not caring that he breaks hearts and reputations. It could be any of us. In this, I think, we are all sisters.”
Beside her, Julia nodded emphatically.
Charles sighed. “So I am learning.”
Sunday. Charles lay in bed, listening to the small sounds of Hicks moving about in the next room. The Albany Buildings were quiet. A day of rest. This time last week he had been in Suffolk, preparing for a leisurely breakfast with Verity and her mother. They had then gone to church and driven into Newmarket where they had looked over Furze House by the simple expedient of Verity knocking on the door of the gardener’s cottage, handing across a pot of honey from her brother’s hives and obtaining the key. He felt his lips curve into a smile. She was exasperating and unstoppable and intelligent and completely adorable. Later they had dined with Adam and Jenny Prettyman, discussed local matters with Alex and Caro Rothwell and it had all been very pleasant. Thinking back on it reinforced his belief that that was the life Verity was designed for, and it was one he could not afford to give her.
He knew, beyond all shadow of a doubt, that he should stay as far away from her as possible. This was presumably why, when Hicks came in with shaving water and warm towels, he asked him to lay out a coat suitable for church-going and told him he would be breakfasting in Grosvenor Street. It was only himself he was torturing. She thought of him as a brother - and would be back in Newmarket very soon. Time enough then to remember how pleasing she looked with her head bent over a list with her mother, or whispering with Julia, or to recall the candlelight playing over her face as she read aloud to the company, her voice investing even the dullest book with interest.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On Monday morning there was an air of purpose about the Grosvenor Street breakfast table. Julia and her mother were preparing to call on the Cattsons, Verity was ready for a morning with Charles, her mother was devoting her day to finishing off the inventory of everything they could take from the dower house to Furze House and listing what they would need to purchase.
“Are you sure you would not rather call at the Temple with me?” asked Verity.
“No, dear, there is much to do if we are to remove as soon as Charles can arrange it. I own I am looking forward to the change, even though I shall be sorry to leave London. I am very much enjoying this visit. Pray tell George I am so grateful for him calling and would be pleased to see him again whenever he is at leisure. I had not realised how shackled I had become. One forgets how wide the world is, when one is powerless to do anything but accept a situation.”
“You could come with me and tell him yourself,” suggested Verity.
Her mother exchanged a glance with Mrs Congreve. “I would not distract him for the world. It is better if Charles deals with this matter.”
Verity puzzled over her mother’s statement as Bridget inserted her into her outer costume. Better? Better why? In what way?
The Bowman attorney was located in a different building to Mr Tweedie’s chambers. Verity tucked her hand into Charles’s arm and remarked that for all they were there on business, this felt very much like a tour.
Charles smiled down at her. “I did not know you had ever been on a tour, Verity. I cannot believe your father approved of such things.”
“He didn’t, and I have not, but the mistresses at school used to take stout boots and walking sticks and go off together on a tour every summer. They would sketch what they saw and write it up in great long journals and that would form part of our instruction the next year. I used to read the journals aloud to the other girls every evening in the parlour while they worked on their needlepoint.”
“That sounds a far more pleasant method of education than my schooldays. Did it give you a curiosity for travel? Should you like to see new places?”
“Very much, I think. I have been struck by something Mama said, that she had not realised how constrained she had become. I have learnt so much this week, Charles. There is a great deal more to the world than my narrow circuit. I am ashamed I know so little of it.”
Was it her imagination or did his smile twist before he looked away. “Perhaps when you are married, you and your husband can take tours of your own.”
She shook her head. “I am not going to marry. I believe that is how the restriction happens, unless one has the good fortune to meet with a very superior kind of gentleman. Jenny and Adam Prettyman are happy together, as are Caroline and Alexander Rothwell, but it is clear Kitty does not like being wed, and Mama seems not to have held her marriage to Papa in any affection. I consider I shall be far better entertained keeping to the single state, going about as I like, and sharing Furze House with Kitty and the women she knows. Women who are not ashamed to work, but who fear men and the strength they carry with them. Women who need a refuge and a place of their own.”