Page 150 of Doxy for the Ton
“What is this?” she asked.
“Justice being served, at last,” came the reply. “My partner Mr. Allardice, who drew up the contract, informed me that he was asked to draft a similar contract several years ago, but it was never signed.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It seems, my dear, as if the son has finally chosen to honor his late father’s wishes.” He gave a wry smile. “I’ll wager there was a little persuasion involved, but the outcome remains the same. Number 10 Royal Crescent is now yours. And, if you’ll forgive me an act of self-indulgence, I’d like to confirm the matter by giving you this.”
He fished something out of his pocket and handed it to her.
It was a large iron key. She took it and ran her fingertips along its form, then she held it in her palm, feeling the weight of it, before she curled her fingers around it.
“Walter…”
She drew in a shuddering breath and a tear splashed onto her hand. A warm hand covered hers.
“My dear, the late earl wouldn’t have wanted you to be sad.”
“But I don’t deserve it,” she said. “I only loved him as a friend. I was his—”
“Do not underestimate the value of a true friendship,” the solicitor said. “What matters is that he loved you, and his wishes have now been honored—perhaps at the direction of one who loves you as much, if not more.”
Before she could ask his meaning, he continued.
“Do tell me how your school is faring.”
“We’re making progress,” she said. “We hope to admit at least a dozen young women. But withthis…” She held up the key.
“Royal Crescent’s an excellent part of town,” he said. “I’ve spent some time in Brighton myself. There’s a direct view of the sea from the street.”
“I couldn’t live there,” she said. “The memories…”
He nodded. “I understand. I can make inquiries if you wish to sell—discreetly, of course.”
“I wouldn’t wish to dishonor Walter’s memory,” she said. “I owe him that.”
She glanced about the parlor, and her gaze landed on the pile of sewing on the table by the window—a gown that Lily was finishing for Lady Radham.
Of course!
“Mr. Stockton, is Brighton as fashionable as it was seven years ago?” she asked.
“Even more so. Ask my wife and daughters—they’re constantly begging me to take a house there so they can attend the assembly rooms.”
“Then perhaps I can put the house to good use. The young woman living with me is a talented dressmaker. All she needs is an establishment in a fashionable area, and I’m convinced she’d be a success as a modiste.”
“You are a most extraordinary young woman,” he said. “Most women in your position would have either taken the house for themselves, or sold it to fund a dowry to find a husband. But then, most women would have kept a fortune of two thousand guineas for themselves rather than spend half of it to benefit others.”
“I am not most women, Mr. Stockton.”
“That you’re not, my dear, and I’m heartily glad of it. If I can assist you in any way with your endeavors—you only need ask.”
“Naturally,” she said. “You’re my solicitor.”
“I meant as afriend, my dear. And if your young woman is as talented as you claim, then I shan’t hesitate in ensuring that my wife recommends her to all her friends when they visit Brighton.”
“That is most kind,” Mimi said.
“Not at all,” he replied. “I only ask you to do one thing in return.”
