Mary Nichols - Regency High Society Vol 5 - The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue

She noted his casual identification with the new world, even if he did not. There was no doubt that he would return to New York when the inheritance was settled one way or the other. London, even Burford Hall, held nothing for him now except for memories of the past. She tensed against the pain around the edges of her heart when she acknowledged that he would leave again. Not that it should matter to her, of course. She turned her face away so that she could not see Henry’s burning desire to be gone from England, away from her and the hideous complications left by his brother.

‘Roads and canals are being developed,’ he continued, unaware of her disquiet. ‘And we are looking to develop trade routes further with Iberia and southern Europe. There is certainly a demand for wheat and we can produce it in huge quantities.’

‘So you are making money, it seems.’ She brought her thoughts back into line.

‘It seems very possible—and we only pay a quarter of taxes compared to English tax payers. So it will leave us with more money to plough back into the business and into a comfortable lifestyle. But not yet! We are ploughing all our profits back until the company is more secure so there is little money to spare. Hence the rented rooms over a shop.’

‘And when there is money to spend? What will you do then?’

‘I intend to build a large house as befits my new status as successful entrepreneur and businessman!’ Henry stretched back in his chair as he envisioned the future. ‘There is plenty of timber and prime sites to be had. The Commissioners in New York have drawn up plans to rebuild the city on impressive lines. Nothing like London, all congestion with narrow streets and winding roads and dark alleys. It will be very splendid with wide avenues crossing each other into a grid. If fortune smiles on us—and a little business acumen—Faringdon and Bridges will be part of it.’

Eleanor watched him as he spoke, assessing the new Hal compared with the one she had known. All the old enthusiasm was still there, but now tempered with experience and knowledge and an edge to his maturity that had been missing when he was still enjoying a life of moneyed leisure in London. His eyes glowed, dark and vibrant, as he outlined the plans of Faringdon and Bridges, probably forgetting to whom he spoke. Her smile was a little sad as she realised that he might have been addressing Nicholas or the unknown Nathaniel Bridges. She had no doubt, no doubt at all, that he would be successful.

‘We think we might invest in our own shipping.’ His thoughts drifted through the endless possibilities for men with money and the willingness to take a calculated risk. ‘And then there is the prospect of the opening up of the west. A lot of migration is under way and new states being added every year. And where people settle, they need goods and commodities. So much opportunity for those prepared to supply them. Forgive me.’ His lips twisted in a grimace. ‘I did not intend to bore you for so long. If you are unwise enough to ask, I am afraid that you pay the penalty.’ The curl of his lips was apologetic.

‘You did not. I would not have asked if I was not interested.’ Eleanor looked at him consideringly. ‘Will you marry?’ Why she had felt the need to ask so personal a question, she did not know, but waited for his reply.

Henry regarded her with a quizzical look. ‘Do you mean have I a lady in mind? No, I do not. But one day I shall marry.’

‘Do you have a mistress?’

‘Yes.’ His brows arched at her question, perhaps a little amused at her directness.

‘Is she pretty?’

‘Rosalind. Yes. She has dark hair and green eyes.’

So now she knew. Eleanor reprimanded herself for initiating the subject. All she had achieved was a sore heart and a leap of jealousy that sank its claws into her flesh, even though she knew that she had no right or claim on him. But she envied the unknown but pretty Rosalind, with her dark hair and green eyes, with all her heart. He had smiled when he spoke her name. There would be no weight of guilt or betrayal from the past to hinder their love. Eleanor immediately knew that there was a harsh lesson here for her that she would do well to learn and act on without delay. Hal was not for her, and never could be.

She fell into silence, brooding a little, unaware of his watching her.

‘What are you thinking?’

She blinked and withdrew her gaze from the flames, brought back to the present. Her eyes were suddenly clear and cold as she pushed herself upright in her chair, spine braced against its curved back. Her voice was equally cool and measured.

‘Why, I was thinking about what I must do now. It is perfectly clear to me that my marriage did not exist. I can no longer deny it, even to myself. We have heard nothing today to undermine Sir Edward’s written evidence and I must accept it.’ She took a visible deep breath. ‘I need to consider my future—I can put it off no longer.’ Spreading her fingers, palm downwards, before her on the table, she contemplated them with a little frown. Then, without comment, she slid a gold ring set with a hoop of diamonds and sapphires from her finger and placed it carefully, deliberately, in front of her on the table between the empty plates and glasses. The sapphires gleamed balefully at their rejection, the diamonds glinted. She could not take her eyes from them, shocked at what she had just done, but she spoke firmly as if compelled by an unseen force. ‘I need to make some decisions and act on them. And I may as well start now! It would seem that I have no right to wear that ring. Thomas gave it to me on the day that we were wed. I know that it is one of the Faringdon jewels and that your mother wore it as a bride.’ She touched it with one finger, almost a caress, before drawing her hands away into her lap, fearing that in a moment of weakness she might snatch up the ring and replace it on her finger. ‘I cannot wear it.’ Her eyes, glassy with unshed tears, were no less bright than the stones that she had just discarded amongst the debris of the meal.

Her action stunned him. And painted for him, more clearly than words could have done, the quagmire that the future would hold for her. He opened his mouth to deny her words, to say anything that would restore a fragment of hope, but could not. He would allow her to speak her mind before offering any advice, before putting forward his own suggestions.

‘So what will you do, Eleanor, if matters stand as Baxendale would have us believe?’

‘I do not know.’ A hint of panic nibbled at her determination to be strong-willed and positive, to take her future into her own hands. ‘I do not as yet know where I will go.’

‘Your family home, perhaps?’ It was not a plan that would seem to hold much attraction, for any number of reasons.

‘Yes. I can return to the village where I was born. My mother still has the house there, so there will always be a roof over our heads and we shall not starve.’ She shivered a little as if a draught had suddenly crept into the room. ‘I don’t think I can do that.’ Her courage wavered a little. ‘Everyone in the village has known me since I was a child—they would know about my present…situation. What would I call myself? Miss Stamford? With a child, but with no claim on its father? And not even the right to call myself a widow?’ She laughed, but there was a sharp edge to it, and her eyes were desolate. ‘I cannot contemplate it. I will have to accept talk, of course, but not intimate knowledge from everyone I meet. It would be too humiliating, day after day.’

He remained silent, but filled her glass again and pushed it across the table. Her fingers toyed nervously with the stem as she allowed her thoughts free rein.

‘Are you aware,’ Henry enquired finally, when the silence stretched uncomfortably, her thoughts apparently bringing no joy, ‘that Sir Edward has made the suggestion to Hoskins that the estate pay you a small pension?’ How would she react to that? he wondered.