Page 37 of Fatal By Design
“How might one participate in this venture?” Cassie asked, leaning forward to peer around Lord Thornton’s broad shoulders.
Mr. Filmore smiled widely at her inquiry, though with a hint of discomfort. “I am afraid it is not customary for the female sex to enter into such business partnerships.”
“Why ever not?” Cassie demanded. “If she has the funds to buy in, what does it matter whether the investor wears a gown or a pair of trousers?”
It was the perfect segue for Audrey, and it had not even been planned. She silently thanked her sister-in-law. “Yes, Mr. Filmore, I find I agree. And furthermore, might someone buy shares in this venture with only bank notes, or would other items of value be permissible? Unentailed land, perhaps…or say, jewels?”
Mr. Filmore laughed gaily. “Oh, no, no. Property or gemstones would not be acceptable. Pounds sterling, that is all that will do for something of this magnitude. You see, that is why it is best to leave men to these things, Your Grace, my lady. They are better equipped for such endeavors,” he said, though not as condescendingly as Lord Westbrook might have done so. Mr. Filmore was too jovial to come off as purposefully arrogant.
“Yes, ladies, do remember your places,” Thornton murmured, his sarcasm betrayed only by the barest twitch of his lower lip. Cassie’s heated glare seared him, his mockery of Mr. Filmore’s lecture lost on her.
Audrey pondered what Mr. Filmore had said; even if someone had wanted the purple diamond to buy into this venture, he could not do so with the ring itself. He would first need to fence it. There were any number of pawnbrokers in London, but with a jewel so noticeable, that would be quite the risk. Scotland, however, had its fair share of shops that would turn a blind eye to possibly stolen goods along the borderlands.
“I am disappointed that Mr. Henley gave his regrets to our hosts. Kettleridge, Westbrook, and I are eager to hear about the first quarter returns,” Mr. Filmore went on.
While this captured Audrey’s attention, Cassie was still focused on what Lord Thornton had quipped. “I’ll have you know, that once I reach my majority, I plan to invest a good portion of my dowry.”
The physician looked askance at her. “Is your dowry not set aside for your future husband?”
Cassie hitched her chin. “I do not plan to marry.” She then sealed her lips, picked up her spoon, and speared the pudding on her plate.
Audrey momentarily forgot her objective with Mr. Filmore and peered around Lord Thornton’s shoulder at her sister-in-law.
“Forgive me,” the physician said, appearing contrite. “I had heard a rumor that is apparently baseless.”
Since the spring, Cassie had been courting Mr. William Knowlton—Genie’s youngest brother, a handsome and affable fellow recently out of university. It was a well-known connection, and there had been whisperings around society, and even printed in the gossip columns, that a betrothal was forthcoming.
After Cassie’s distressing last year, Audrey had been pleased to see her in the first stages of falling in love. She couldn’t ask questions here, in front of everyone, but would certainly do so later.
However, Cassie’s brother Tobias held no such reservations. Seated directly across the table, and apparently having ignored the conversation on his side in favor of theirs, he snorted in derision. “She is better off without the cad.”
Cassie glared. “Quiet, Toby.” She checked the head of the table where Genie sat, thankfully oblivious to them. Pink flooded Cassie’s cheeks. Thornton raised a brow, but Cassie pointedly avoided him by shifting in her seat to turn and speak to the man on her right.
By then, Mr. Filmore was in conversation with his other neighbor, and everyone was nearly finished with their dessert course anyhow. The men were to withdraw to the billiards room for cigars and port, and the ladies to Genie’s drawing room for cards and sherry. The idea of joining them made Audrey wilt; and not only because she would be made to converse with Lady Veronica—something she had avoided thus far. She had not been alone for days, and she yearned for a short stretch of time to sit and think. So, as the other ladies filed out of the dining room, Audrey touched Cassie’s arm and told her to pass along to Genie that she would retiring for the night.
Then, she started for the library. Greer would be in the bedchamber, preparing for her nightly ablutions, but even though her maid was unobtrusive, Audrey needed solitude. So, she made her way up into the mezzanine of the library, directly into the alcove she had come to prefer over the last two months at Greenbriar.
The thunderstorm had let up a little, and a mild rain flecked the round window. She lit a lamp and, removing her slippers, sat into the armchair and tucked her feet under her. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax and make her mind go blank, but it refused. Instead, it pored over everything Mr. Filmore had said about the investment venture.
Why had Mr. Henley changed his mind about attending the house party with such short notice? His connection to Lord Cartwright and thus, Millie, also bothered her…there was something there. Frustration brimming, Audrey rubbed her temple, stymied. Every moment she could not determine who took Millie and why, was another moment her sister’s life was imperiled.
What use was her gift of being able to see the clues other people could not, if she still failed to make sense of them?
She and Philip used to argue about whether her ability was a gift or a curse. While Audrey often bounced between finding it to be one or the other, Philip had always firmly seen it at worst, as a curse and at best, a lonely gift.It is an experience you can never share with any other person. You alone can see the things you do,he’d once said to her when she asked him what he meant by it being a lonely gift.You have something other people can’t comprehend, and it sets you apart from them.
He hadn’t been trying to be callous; he was only ever blunt. He’d been correct, too. There was something incredibly lonely about not being able to share the knowledge she was given. Though, she’d been able to at least talk about it with Philip, and now with Hugh.
With no one nearby to observe her, she could let the wide, giddy grin she’d been suppressing to finally form. The memories of last night were so vivid, she could almost feel the pressure of his hands, his mouth, his body, against hers. So much had changed, so many doubts laid to rest.
Lolling her head to the side, she noticed a thick tome open on the table next to her chair; it seemed Audrey was not the only guest who had discovered this reading alcove. Shifting the book to view the spine,CountryEstates of the British Peerage, she reached over and placed the attached red ribbon into the seam to mark the guest’s page. It was the listing for Greenbiar. A guest had been reading up on this particular estate, curious to its history and offerings. The description logged everything from acreage and numbers of stocked ponds and gardens to the style of the home, the number of rooms, and the brief histories of past residents.
There would be a listing for Fournier Downs too, she presumed. And of Hugh’s estate in Surrey, Cranleigh Manor. She hesitated before taking the tome into her lap. It still didn’t feel entirely real what he’d said the previous night. That he intended to make her his wife. If she were to become Viscountess Neatham…well then, Cranleigh Manor would be her country estate, not Fournier Downs. It was such an outlandish idea that it nearly felt dreamlike.
Audrey didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but shewasalone. No one would have to know that she had read the listing for the Neatham country seat. She began to flip pages backward, assuming the listings would be alphabetical, but it soon became apparent that they were listed according to county. She was flipping back through the Kent estates when a listing stopped her: Montague Lodge. In Kent? Quickly, she read over the listing. Lord Montague’s country seat was a grandiose hunting lodge in Pyke-on-Wending.
“Pyke-on-Wending,” she murmured, tapping her finger against the page.
A board creaked underfoot just beyond the alcove. She closed the heavy book just as a figure came into view at the edge of the bookshelves. She startled and froze into place.
