Page 154 of Harpy of the Ton
“It’s called interest, Mr. Baxter,” the banker said. “It would earn you ten shillings if you deposit regularly.”
“Which he will do,” Trelawney said. “Won’t you, Baxter? Several of my acquaintances have inquired about your services—and they’re willing to pay handsomely.”
“Y-yes, of course,” Lawrence said.
“In which case, that concludes our business,” Simms said, “unless you wished to discuss anything, Mr. Trelawney?”
Trelawney shook his head, then rose. “No—my wife’s meeting us at the Crown. I don’t want her kept waiting.”
“Of course.” The banker offered his hand, and Lawrence took it. “Welcome to Simms Bank, Mr. Baxter. Mr. Trelawney, give my regards to your charming wife.”
Simms opened the door, then Trelawney led Lawrence outside.
As they stepped out onto the street, Trelawney pulled a watch out of his waistcoat pocket. “Almost three o’ clock,” he said. “You’ll join us for tea? The Crown does a good tea. Mrs. Folds always bakes a lemon cake especially for Alice—she has a soft spot for her.”
“I’m not dressed appropriately to take tea with a lady.”
“Nonsense!” Trelawney laughed. “Alice cares little about that sort of thing, and she particularly wished to see you.”
“Me?”
Trelawney nodded. “She was most distressed—we both were—when we heard about”—he glanced around, then lowered his voice—“Lady Arabella.”
Lawrence drew in a sharp breath to stem the ache in his heart. “I-I take it Lady Arabella’s well?”
“I know nothing of her state of health, but she’s to marry Dunton in a matter of days,” Trelawney said. “We heard it from an acquaintance who saw Dunton at his London club. Apparently Dunton was boasting about his increased prospects now a fortune was forthcoming.”
“Who told you this?”
“Whitcombe.”
“Oh,him,” Lawrence said. “He insulted Bella at your garden party. He may be a duke, but that didn’t give him the right to distress her.”
“Perhaps not Bella,” Trelawney said, “but Whitcombe has only ever knownLady Arabella, who’s been very cruel to his wife in the past.”
“Bella’s not cruel.”
“Bellanever existed. She was the product of an injury to the head, a lapse in senses.”
“Perhaps Bella was the true woman,” Lawrence said, “and Lady Arabella was the role she’d been taught to play by the folk around her.”
“Are you bearing the loss?”
Lawrence let out a sigh. “With my first wife, I hardly had time to know her. We liked each other, and I grieved for her passing—but the pain lessened over time. But with Bella…” He shook his head. “It frightened me how quickly she found a place in my heart, as if we were meant to be together. Now she’s gone, it’s like there’s something missing in my heart—a wound that can never heal.”
“You’ll heal in time, Baxter,” Trelawney said. “You have your children, a flourishing business, and friends—good friends who’ll stand by you no matter what.”
“What of Bella?” Lawrence said. “She has no true friends. She might have fancy gowns, carriages, and big houses, but she’s at the mercy of that vile man.”
“Dunton?”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Trelawney. I know it’s not done to speak ill of them with titles, but a man like that won’t make her happy.”
“She chose him.”
“Aye,” Lawrence said. “In the end, she chose him. Not me, nor the children, buthim.”
“All right, my friend,” Trelawney said brightly. “What you need is a good dose of Mrs. Folds’s cake to cheer you up. She has the lemons brought over fresh. Or perhaps a drop of Mr.Folds’s brandy? It’s not too early to enjoy a glass, and it’s the finest in Midchester.” He gave Lawrence a wink. “I should know—I supplied it to him.”
