“Well spoken, Mrs. Black,” Worthington agreed.
“I prefer my wealth to come through marriage.” Lady Prissypants finished her wine, gesturing for Phalen to pour her more, which he did without question. “As you well know, Worth. It has been a goal of mine since childhood,” she laughed into her glass before taking a sip.
The tale of how the people gathered around Hester’s table seemed to start with Mr. Worthington who had known Lady Prissypants since they were children. Apparently, their family estates bordered each other and had once hoped for a match between them.
“Impossible, wedding Worth,” she said to Hester. “He’s been ruined for marriage, haven’t you?”
“Careful, my lady.” Worthington’s eyes flickered with warning. “I see no benefit to ever marrying, unlike you. Two ancient husbands. I wonder if there will be a third.”
Lady Prissypants shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Only time will tell.” Her eyes slid to Sinclair at the end of the table before rising. She strolled towards him and settled in a chair to his left.
King George was less obvious strutting about the hens.
“Tell me about Blackbird Heath, Mrs. Black,” Worthington said from beside her.
“I can’t imagine you’d find farming to be interesting, Mr. Worthington.”
Worthington really was amostagreeable gentleman. Handsome. Kind. Why couldn’t Joshua have givenhimBlackbird Heath?
“I findyouintriguing.” His glance slid briefly to Sinclair at the other end of the table. “And I find that the best way to learn about various aspects of a particular industry, requires speaking to someone who is an expert. You are that expert, Mrs. Black.” He inclined his head, spilling a honey-gold curl across his brow. “I’m not attempting flattery, I assure you.”
Worthingtondidfind her attractive, if the way his eyes slid to her mouth as she spoke were any indication, but she sensed he was more interested in what she had to say. “Are you gathering information for Mr. Sinclair? As I’m sure you’re aware, he wished to sell the estate.”
“He’s mentioned as much to me. But I’m not sure I agree.”
Hester felt a flicker of hope in her chest.
As they played cards, a silly game where Phalen acted as a dealer while the rest of the group attempted to get enough cards that added up to twenty-one, Hester told Worthington about Blackbird Heath. He already knew a great deal about farming, at least from the perspective of a man of business searching for an investment. She could hardly fathom that this elegant man beside her had ever set foot in a potato field. Worth asked specific questions on profitability, crops planted and why they’d been chosen, resources being used, and what sort of funds would be required to modernize the farm to compete with other, larger nearby estates.
“Has Sinclair reviewed your accounts, Mrs. Black?” Worth asked so that only she could hear.
Well, he’d groped her breast. She’d seen him naked. Did that count? Hester bit her lip to keep the giggle from escaping. The wine was having a curious effect on the direction of her thoughts. “Yes, though I—didn’t care for his perusal.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Worth chuckled softly. “But it is no reflection on your talents, which are obvious everywhere I look, or on Blackbird Heath. Sinclair has a head for numbers which isn’t only useful for calculating the odds of a card game or a horse race. He has a knack for seeing patterns. Shifts in the direction of a business that others miss, including me.”
Hester glanced at Sinclair who was calmly sipping his wine while Lady Prissypants brushed her bosom against his arm.
“For instance,” Worthington continued, drawing her attention back to him. “I was considering the purchase of a well-known textile mill in Manchester; one I had examined with incredible thoroughness.” He gave her a sideways glance. “At least, IthoughtI had. Sinclair offered to give their finances a peek as a favor to me.”
“Did you purchase the textile mill?”
“No, I did not. Sinclair saved me from making an expensive mistake.” He smiled. “It all came down to raw materials and the producers supplying them. Pertinent facts the owner hid within the long rows of receipts in his ledgers. I hadn’t noticed it, but Sinclair did. He’s quite brilliant at it. Sinclair will make an excellent partner. I identify prospects, he assesses them.” He took a sip of the wine. “I’ll find another textile mill.”
“You and Sinclair are to become partners?” Hester wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “I thought he preferred to make his living at cards, Mr. Worthington.” Indeed, she assumed Sinclair to be like Joshua, flitting about and earning his living as a gambler.
“Oh, he did, for a time and was rather good at it.” He leaned closer, and Hester caught the light sandalwood scent clinging to Worthington’s coat. “But that was because of Dunnings, Mrs. Black. I think you are familiar with desperation and what paths it causes you to take. And before you inquire, that is Sinclair’s tale to tell, not mine though it is no great secret in London. His family is considered quite colorful.” The blue of his eyes twinkled down at her.
Worthington was beautiful. Intelligent. Respectful.
Hester looked down the table at Sinclair. He was deep in conversation with Lady Downing, seemingly oblivious to the tip of her finger trailing down his arm.
Yet he wasn’t Andrew Sinclair.
He had mentioned he’d grown up in the country to Hester. She’d guessed somewhere in Northumberland. Offhand, mentioned brothers. A sister. But little else. Certainly not desperation, just a dislike for cabbage.
Worthington noted the direction of her gaze. “Constance and Sinclair have a history, Mrs. Black,” he said, but did not elaborate. “I did some research before our arrival to your lovely home. Lincolnshire will soon feed all of England, mark my words. Arable land,” he waved his fork. “Loads of it. Rich soil, particularly in this area. Ability to grow a variety of crops. Our discussion has only confirmed that belief.”
“I’ve managed Blackbird Heath quite well. I would like to continue to do so,” she said with no small amount of determination. “It has prospered under my care.”
