A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(6)



Which Charles now did, and was rewarded with a lightening of Mrs Bowman’s expression and a smiling message to take back, although he wasn’t sure he’d agree with her description of his rather fussy senior partner as a dear sweet man. He turned the talk instead to whether they had any plans to improve the dower house, now they were living there.

“Pull it down and start again?” said Verity. “This time without the cramped rooms, mean windows and high ceilings? Truly, I do think whichever of Papa’s ancestors it was who built this house, he must have nursed a truly remarkable hatred for his mother. The only nice features at all are the front bays and they were added later.”

“It is a very trying building,” murmured Mrs Bowman.

Verity put her head on one side. “Dearest Charles,” she said in a coaxing voice, “if we put our incomes together, could Mama and I afford to take a house somewhere else? There are some nice properties in Newmarket itself, towards the London road. Furze House has been free this past month, though it is somewhat run down and may need a little work. This one is so gloomy, as well as being too close to John and Selina. I am not sure I can be rational here. It simply cries out for gaiety and frivolity as an antidote to being crushed.”

Charles looked at her with horror. The prospect of Verity setting up an independent establishment, even with her mother, especially in a house that needed a little work, filled him with the liveliest unease. John Bowman might be a loud, pompous, self-important bore, but at least his presence across the park was some sort of brake on his half-sister’s wilder schemes.

The next morning, Charles gazed with wry appreciation at the array of breakfast dishes laid out for him on the sideboard. It seemed Verity wasn’t finished yet. He filled his plate and mentally braced himself for whatever the next idea was that she had in mind to spring on him.

Early morning, however, appeared to be sacrosanct as far as assaults on his better judgement were concerned. Verity made sensible, cheerful conversation whilst not troubling to hide a hearty appetite, and was ready to leave the house in half the time his sister Julia usually managed. She reminded her mother not to agree to anything John and Selina might suggest should they visit, nor to mention Uncle James’s money, and then settled herself neatly on the carriage seat opposite Charles as the coachman gave the horses the off.

“Yes?” he said.

She chuckled. “I do like an intelligent man. Such a relief after living with Papa and John all these years. Charles, I have been giving some thought to my uncle’s bequest. The wording, as you say, is awkward. Nice as it is to have you here, I daresay you would not find it very convenient to live in the dower house with us for the next six months in order to continually observe my behaviour.”

A lesser man might have shuddered. “It would be most inconvenient,” he said repressively.

She nodded with a satisfaction that increased his alarm. “I thought as much. So, I believe I have come up with a solution that will suit us both.”

He took a guarded breath. “Yes?”

She smiled at him. “Yes. In the interests of following a rational programme of which my uncle would approve, I propose that Mama and I should remove to London with you.”





CHAPTER THREE


Charles choked and needed recourse to the large handkerchief his companion considerately provided him with before he could answer. “Verity, you will be the death of me. Now I understand that handsome breakfast. What have you in mind to do in London that is so much more rational than following an improving programme of reading or some such here?”

“Many things. Charles, you have seen the dower house. It positively invites one to kick against it. London has well-stocked libraries. London has galleries and museums. London has those scientific lectures you were telling us about at dinner yesterday. They sound most interesting.”

Charles silently cursed himself for a fool. “I will send you the transcripts.”

Small blue demons danced in Verity’s eyes as she folded her hands demurely in her lap. “I also thought I might go about with you, Charles. Then there can be no question of not spending my time in a rational manner, for I am sure you do nothing that is not sensible and sober.”

Charles did many things that were neither sensible nor sober, and he had no intention of enlightening Verity about them. The very thought made his blood run cold. “Leaving aside the small difficulty that the majority of my daylight hours are spent working, you, your mother and your maids will never fit into my bachelor quarters in the Albany,” he said.

“How ridiculous you are. We will stay with Godmama, of course, as we have always done before. She wrote to invite us some time ago. She won’t mind at all.”

“Very likely not, unfortunately. It is a dreadful idea, Verity. Julia is hardly the companion to aid you in a pursuit of rationality. I don’t believe I have seen her with a book in her hands since she left school.” He thought back. “Possibly not even then.”

Verity’s eyes flickered for a moment. “Dearest Julia. She will help me when I explain. Besides, I wish to extract Mama from Reverend Milsom’s orbit.”

As a non-sequitur, it was masterly. As the carriage jolted over the ruts in the lane, Charles felt his lips twitch and had to struggle to keep his face straight. How did Verity do this? “That seems unnecessarily harsh on the parson,” he said. “Is there a reason for so callous an act?”

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