His nephew, Geoffrey, was a fleshy, toddling lad in a frock and bonnet. He tugged at Mark’s trousers and slobbered on his sleeve. He babbled unintelligible nonsense, to which Mark was obliged to respond, much to Ann’s delight.
“It’s good for him to know you,” she said, smiling at the pair of them. “You’re his uncle and his benefactor. Until you have a family of your own, Geoff is the future of the van Bergen family as well as the Coopers.”
Mark had never put much thought into marrying or siring children, though Ann believed that one’s happiness depended upon it. To her, one’s life was incomplete without someone to share it with.
Lately, he was beginning to agree. He was proud to provide Eliza with a temporary home—food, shelter, companionship, and a safe place to grow and thrive. He liked to think of her when he was away, to wonder what she was doing, and to imagine how lovely she looked while doing it. His courageous pickpocket was an attractive young woman. To say that she brightened his days was an understatement. In her brilliance, she’d blinded him to the charms of all other ladies.
“You seem very distracted this afternoon, Mark. How was your dinner at Lord Revelstoke’s?”
He bounced his nephew on his knee, answering, “One supper is the same as any other these days. They seated me beside Hilda Prevost this time, so at least the company was amusing.”
Ann’s brows lifted at the news. “She recently made her debut, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s newly returned from Italy and officially on the market.”
“Do you fancy her?”
“No more than she fancies me,” he replied. “Miss Prevost was born into the world of banking and whoever marries her shall be settled for life. Her father will become the next Governor and he will control the Bank of England—that’s rather a powerful father-in-law for some poor fellow.”
“An alliance with Augustus Prevost wouldn’t please you?” Ann asked with some surprise.
He sat forward, holding a squirming Geoff steady. “Would it please the insect squashed beneath his shoe?”
“I see your point.” His sister laughed. “You’d never be happy under someone else’s thumb. You’ve been the head of the family for far too long, and you’re too old and set in your ways. I suppose you’d lose a great deal of autonomy in allying with the Prevosts.”
“Hilda shall marry whomever her parents tell her to marry because she is dutiful and gently bred, but she will rebel in her heart and perhaps never be truly happy with her lot in life. I hope she finds a fellow to share in her passion for art and travel, and who’ll come to heel when her father calls, but that man won’t be me.”
Ann looked at him with strange, new eyes. “I’ve never heard you speak that way, Mark.”
“In what way?”
“So defiantly. Not that you’ve ever been weak, but just now you seemed so unruly, so discontent. You’ve worked hard, made valuable connections, and ascended to the Court of Directors. You’re the youngest of your peers by twenty years, and we’ve all had you pegged for the Governorship someday. What has changed?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged off the weight of her observations. “I don’t intend to marry Miss Prevost in order to obtain the pinnacle of my career. If I make it to the Governor’s seat, it’ll be through diligence and shrewd business sense. If I don’t, it’ll be because I desired something more for myself than the Bank could provide.”
“Papa always said that you ought to have your own banking firm,” said Ann. “You’re canny! You made a fortune speculating on the gold market whilst the others shuffled their feet. Sid and I will always be grateful to you for the advice you’ve given us in finance and in life.”
He was happy to help his friends and family. He had never wanted his own bank—or the multitude of risks that came with such an endeavor. He’d been content to work his way up, to learn from his elders, and to step into place alongside them when the time came. Mark was proud of his work at the Bank, but perhaps Eliza’s tenacity had rubbed off on him.
He placed his nephew onto the carpet. While the infant bobbled and bumbled between the knees of the two grown-ups, Mark glanced around the sitting room at the proof of his sister’s domestic bliss. He observed dust ruffles on the table legs, embroidered cushions, gently swaying curtains, and the fresh floral arrangements delivered from Shepherd Market at nearby Curzon Street.
“Where is Sidney anyway?” he asked, noting the absence of his brother-in-law. “Not at the office, surely. It’s Sunday.” Even the ledgers of Stannard-Hopeley remained firmly closed on this day of rest.
“He’ll be along shortly.” In confidence, she added, “I confess he’s been feeling very low lately. He is overworked, I fear.” Ann took the baby into her arms and cuddled the little lad. “Poor Sid is a junior officer, yet they treat him like a glorified clerk! He ought to be a partner by now.”
Mark agreed, though it was well known in banking circles that Messrs. Stannard and Hopeley were wary of promoting too quickly. “One must put in the time,” he said, “and await one’s turn.”
“Won’t you use your connections at the Bank to find Sidney a better position somewhere?”
“That would not be prudent.” Mr. Sidney Cooper was a good friend, an honest banker, a hard worker, and a family man, but he shouldn’t be judged by Mark’s trajectory. Another year of working as a junior officer would provide invaluable experience for Sidney’s career. Yet to appease his sister, Mark said, “But I will keep an ear to the ground for any openings.”
“Oh! You are an indulgent brother! Thank you!” She took his hand and squeezed it. “When Sid comes down, you must tell him all about Lord Revelstoke’s dinner party. The chaps in the board room of Stannard-Hopeley are desperate for any news. Feed him everything worth hearing over luncheon so that he might turn their heads tomorrow morning.”
The Court of Directors had mostly discussed funding the war against the Boers, the details of which Mark was not at liberty to share, even with Sidney. He was a stickler for discretion and did not believe in poking one’s nose where it didn’t belong. Men lost their jobs for less.
“I cannot stay for luncheon,” he told his sister. “Mine is a flying visit today, I’m afraid.”
She studied him suspiciously, for in all their adult years, he had never declined Sunday luncheon. It was their custom to share a weekly meal since she’d left their home in Green Street. “Have you other plans?”
