Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (7 page)

Neckcloth be damned. “It will be wilted in less than ten minutes. Let’s go.”

“You’re probably right.” Whatever had Andrew tied up in knots, Will hoped it would resolve itself soon. They strode rapidly down the street toward the main part of town. “I must stop by the bank and ensure Howden doesn’t have access to the accounts.”

His friend nodded tightly. “Good idea.”

Fortunately, the bank manager was available and, although he expressed surprise when Will handed him his power of attorney, didn’t delay them. When they reached Wivenly Imports, Will opened the door, causing a porter to step back sharply.

The man glanced at Andrew and greeted him. “Mr. Grayson, good to see you back. Is Mr. Howden expecting you?”

“No, however I did tell him I’d return.”

The porter nodded. “Very well then. You know the way.”

Will followed Andrew up the steep steps, reflecting on the last time he’d been here. To-day there would be no Mrs. Villaret to feast his eyes upon. Andrew was right. They needed to finish their business so they could each get on with their private lives.

Leading the way, they walked past a clerk, bent over ledgers at the desk Andrew and the blonde had worked at, into the manager’s office. In the daylight, it was clear this would have been Uncle Nathan’s room, and for some reason, the mere existence of Mr. Howden sitting behind the large mahogany desk was an affront.

Will took out the keys he’d taken from Mrs. Villaret as Howden jumped to his feet. “Mr. Grayson, what is the meaning of this unexpected visit? I would gladly have made an appointment.”

Andrew stepped aside and motioned to Will. “Lord Wivenly would like a few words with you, Mr. Howden.”

The manager’s lips moved, but no sound emerged.

When the clerk came to the door, Will closed it in his face, then strolled back to the desk and sat on it, allowing his leg to swing. He picked up the open journal.

Apparently recovered from his shock, Howden made a grab for it. “You can’t take that. It’s private.”

“I know exactly what it is.” Will pitched his voice in a low snarl.

“What I don’t know and intend to discover is how you thought you’d get away with your little scheme.
Sit
. It’s time we had a bit of a talk.”

W
ill waited until Howden sank back into the chair before he continued. “My father, the Earl of Watford, was confused when he received conflicting reports concerning Wivenly Imports. One from you that the business was doing well, the other from my aunt telling him she had no money.” Will pierced the manager with a glare.

No one harmed his family and got away with it.

“Therefore, Mr. Grayson and I visited this office the other evening. Would you care to hazard a guess at what we found?”

Howden’s gaunt face paled as beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. “N-no, my lord.”

“Then I shall tell you. We discovered two sets of books and
this
.” Will held up the diary.

Howden flashed a glance at the door and started to rise. Andrew gripped the manager’s shoulders from behind, forcing him back down.

How the hell did Howden think he’d be able to escape? Keeping his voice cold as ice, Will lifted his lip in a snarl. “I really cannot allow you to leave yet. You haven’t told me why you did it.”

For several moments the manager was silent. Finally, his voice full of venom, he spoke. “Without a recommendation from Mr. Wivenly, I was stuck here in this hell-hole. Shipley offered me a position in one of his companies if I helped him buy Wivenly Imports and marry Miss Villaret.”

“Did you not consider”—Will pitched his voice so the manager could hear the menace in it—“that for honest work, for protecting the interests of our family, my father would have given you a recommendation?”

“No. Other than receiving reports, I didn’t know he was involved.” Howden stared at a space over Will’s left shoulder. “I can make it up to you. After all, the company is doing well, and no real harm’s been done.”

Will’s hands fisted, and he moved away from the desk to stop himself from reaching across and planting the man a facer. “Your services are no longer required here.” He stepped to the door, calling to the clerk, “I need a length of rope and a constable.”

The blackguard would go to jail for a long time if Will had anything to say about it. Too bad he couldn’t put him on a prison transport.

“Will?” Andrew motioned him to his side. “If you have Howden arrested and tried, you will ruin the company’s reputation.”

Howden sat still for a moment, and Will prayed the manager would give him an excuse to do considerable damage to his person. “You’re telling me I have to let the scoundrel go?”

“In a word, yes. There is nothing you can do without causing more harm to your aunt.”

Howden glanced up at Will and sneered. “Do you know anything about running a company,
my lord
?”

His fists clenched, but Andrew moved to block any attempt Will might make to harm the manager.

“No, but Mr. Grayson here does.” Will might not be able to put Howden in prison, but an even better idea came to him. “He’ll also ensure you never work in
any
business again.”

“How do you think he’d manage that?” Howden said, sure of his position, then suddenly the manager’s face paled.

“B and G Shipping?” Howden’s words came out as a squeak. “That Grayson?”

Andrew grinned wickedly. “The same. You are lucky Lord Wivenly has decided not to beat you senseless. I suggest you leave before he changes his mind.”

“If it wasn’t for the scandal it would cause”—Will’s words came out as more of a growl than anything else—“I’d have the authorities take you away.”

Howden looked from Andrew to Will. “There are some transactions I must complete before I leave.”

Did the rogue really think he’d be able to stay? Will glanced at the ring of keys dangling from a fob on Howden’s waistcoat. “Give me your keys.” When the man didn’t move, Will repeated himself. “Give them to me, or I shall do myself the pleasure of taking them from you.”

Howden fumbled with the chain, then handed Will a ring of keys that matched the one he’d taken from Mrs. Villaret.

“You have until I count to thirty to leave the premises.” In an attempt to keep his temper, Will bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted the metallic tang of blood. “If you return for any reason, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. That won’t hurt anyone’s reputation.”

Amazingly, Howden must have finally realized he was dismissed without a reference. “But where shall I go?”

“To hell for all I care.” Will’s jaw clenched as the rage he’d been holding back threatened to break loose. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you now. Come to think of it, if I see you again I shall.”

Howden bolted from the room. A moment later the sound of his heavy footsteps echoed up the staircase.

After taking a few deep breaths, Will nodded more to himself than anyone else. “I think that went well.”

Andrew rubbed his forehead. “I hate to say it, but he did have a point. Who
is
going to take his place?”

Will’s mind went blank. He hadn’t actually thought past getting rid of Howden. “I thought you might, until I can find someone more permanent.”

“I’ll take it under consideration, but I’m not going to promise I’ll do it.” Andrew flicked open his pocket watch. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. I have to visit the tailor before my luncheon engagement. Which, as I told you, I will not be late for.” He clicked the cover shut, returning the watch to his waistcoat. “I suggest you have a conversation with your employees and get to know them. The clerk should be able to tell you at least a little about the company.”

Will had turned to gaze out at the harbor, and when he glanced back around, Andrew was gone.
Damnation
. He’d been serious. Will walked to the door, then stepped into the outer office. “You out there.”

The clerk’s head jerked up. “Me, sir?”

“Do you see anyone else?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I must be speaking to you, and it’s
my lord
.”

“What?” The young man stared at Will, his mouth gaping.

Will resisted the urge to find Andrew and demand his friend return. “I am Lord Wivenly. Therefore, I am addressed as
my lord
.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man scrambled out of his chair, almost running to Will. “I mean, my lord.”

Progress. “How long have you worked here?”

The clerk’s eyes widened. “Two years, my lord.”

“Good.” Now what was he to say? Will tried to remember the last time he’d interviewed a man for a position, and couldn’t. Even his groom and valet had been hired on his behalf.

The clerk glanced nervously around. “When is Mr. Howden coming back?”

Will sat in the chair behind the desk. “Never, if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Oh.” The young man fell silent.

“What’s your name?”

“Smithwick, my lord.”

“Excellent name, Smithwick. You don’t happen to be related to the Sussex Smithwicks, do you?”

He frowned a bit before answering. “I might be, my lord.”

This would never do. It wasn’t a social call, after all. “It is not necessary to ‘my lord’ me all the time. Just stick it in every once in a while.”

Smithwick nodded.

He was probably afraid to speak now. “Tell you what, get some of those ledgers and come in here. You’ll need to explain the business to me.”

“Me, sir?” Smithwick said uneasily.

Will raised his quizzing glass, glanced around the office, then back to his clerk. “For a moment I thought we’d been joined by someone else.” My God, the man looked as if Will was going to flog him. “The thing is, I know about running an estate and farming. I know nothing about this type of business. Now, unless you have a roof that needs to be repaired, or need advice on how to increase a herd of cattle . . .” A hopeful thought occurred to him. “You don’t, do you?”

The scared look turned into a dubious one. Perhaps Smithwick thought Will was mad. Which might not be far from the truth.

“No, my lord.”

“As I thought.” After all, how much more difficult could this be? “Bring the books.”

At the end of an hour, Will was ready to jump out the window and had a suspicion his clerk would be happy to join him. He started searching through the desk drawers. “Is there any brandy in this place?”

“No, my lord, we have rum.”

“That will work. Pour one for me and for yourself.”

Smithwick returned with two half-full glasses, placing them on the table.

Will took one and raised it. “To farming.”

He needed to find a new manager and fast. Perhaps he could discover a way to convince Andrew he wanted to help.

Cicely stood at the window of her mother’s small parlor, which abutted her parents’ bedchamber. A few minutes before the hour, Mr. Grayson came into her view on his way up the Ninety-Nine Steps. If only he’d look her way. As if he’d heard her thoughts, he glanced at her, smiled, and waved. Happiness surged through her, almost as if she’d been given the Christmas present she’d wanted most. She wiggled her fingers at him and waited until he was no longer in sight. She’d known from the first time they’d met there was a connection between them.

After he’d left last evening, Papa and Mama had spoken well of him and his family. Mama even admitted Cicely was correct as to who he was, but still wasn’t convinced Mr. Grayson would make an offer or, should he do so, that Cicely should accept.

She turned from the window and after taking a breath and smoothing her skirts went into the drawing room, where their butler would bring Andrew. A few moments later, Mama joined her, but there was still no sign of him. After what seemed an hour, but could only have been half that, he finally entered the room with Papa.

“Mrs. Whitecliff, thank you for inviting me.” Andrew bowed to Mama before turning to Cicely. “Miss Whitecliff.” Mr. Grayson took her hand again and kissed it. “You are lovelier each time I see you.”

Her heart suddenly seemed to beat much faster, and it was hard to catch her breath. This was probably the closest she’d ever come to swooning. “Thank you. You are very handsome.”

He flushed under his tan, as though he wasn’t used to compliments. Or perhaps she wasn’t supposed to have commented on his appearance. Her mind was in such a jumble she couldn’t remember. Oh dear, now what?

“Shall we repair to the dining room?” Mama said as she rose, thus rescuing Cicely from her dilemma.

Andrew took her hand and placed it on his arm. His voice was a faint whisper. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“As I am you.” Her fingers warmed as his touch lingered just a moment too long. He was definitely the gentleman she’d been waiting for. “What did Papa wish to discuss?”

Before Andrew could answer, Mama said, “Cicely, please ring the bell.”

She had no choice but to leave Andrew and step across the room to the bell-pull. She had the distinct feeling her mother had said that for the sole purpose of separating her from Andrew. Had Papa warned Mr. Grayson away? Yet that didn’t make any sense. Perhaps Mama was just being difficult. Which was the reason Cicely had not been allowed to travel to London last winter in preparation for her come out.

During luncheon, Cicely, Andrew, and her father discussed shipping, with Mama interjecting the occasional astute comment. Finally, to Cicely’s amazement, Papa suggested she show Andrew the garden. She couldn’t believe they were finally going to be allowed to be alone. Granted, it was broad daylight, with all the servants within calling distance. Still, she and Andrew would be allowed to speak freely, without her mother’s close scrutiny.

“Come this way.” Cicely placed her hand on his arm and led him through her mother’s parlor to the stairs. She could have skipped with joy

Once outside, he glanced around. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

For the life of her she couldn’t think what he meant. “Like what?”

“Your house. Are there no inside stairs?”

“No. The only ones are on the outside. I take it English houses aren’t the same.”

They descended to the next level, and he asked, “What is on this floor?”

Warmth rose up her neck into her cheeks. “My apartment. It is common for the parents to have the main floor and the children to live in the lower levels. The servants have rooms in the long houses.” They continued down a few more steps, until they reached the garden level and the path leading to a large Flamboyant tree still full of bright red flowers. She sank onto the bench under the tree, and removed her wide-brimmed bonnet.

Now that they were alone, Cicely’s stomach fluttered as if butterflies were having a party in it. Unable to meet his gaze, she stared out over the water. “Mr. Grayson—”

“I would be honored if you would call me Andrew.”

The fluttering moved to her heart, and she was suddenly breathless for the second time that day. “Andrew. It’s a nice name.”

“From my paternal grandfather. Miss Whitecliff?”

She turned and looked into his soft gray eyes. “Please call me Cicely.”

He smiled gently and took her hands in his much larger ones. “It’s a lovely name.”

“Thank you.”

He gazed at her for several moments. If he didn’t say something soon she was going to expire on the spot. “I realize we’ve not known one another long . . . only a few days.”

Surely he wouldn’t suggest they wait before he declared himself. What if it wasn’t the same for him as it was for her? Cicely couldn’t take this much longer. She had to know. Suddenly she blurted, “I feel a connection.”

Andrew’s countenance became serious.
Drat!
She’d been too impulsive.

“I do as well,” he responded as if startled. “What I’d like to say—” A rueful grin appeared on his lips. “Pardon me. I’m not usually so inarticulate.”

She held her breath, willing him to get on with it.

His grip on her fingers tightened as he searched her face. “Would you be my wife?”

The butterflies left and her heart stopped for a moment. This was exactly what she’d hoped he’d say. Was there ever a woman as lucky as she? “Yes.” She drew a breath. “Yes, I would love to be your wife.”

He bent his head, lightly touching his lips to hers, and drew her into his arms. “You’ve made me the happiest of men, my love.”

“Do you love me?” She hoped it was not just a term he used for all women.