“He knows more of such people than I, given his own rank. His opinion is always a balanced one, and I can rely upon him to keep our best interests at heart.”
“But he is no relation.”
“No.” Her father smiled. “But there is a bond between our families nonetheless, an old one that I have often found myself glad of.”
“Will you tell me?” Patience asked, guessing that her father needed only an invitation to do so.
He checked his watch, then nodded agreement and set the quill aside. “Once, many years ago, the duke’s father came into his inheritance. I knew little of him beyond his excellent reputation before he appeared in the shop. We had only just begun the business, Robert and I, and we were far from profitability. There were presses to pay for, and paper and skilled men, the shop itself, and the books we chose to publish. In those days, neither of us took a wage, but we saw promise in the venture and had hopes for the future. Then the Duke of Haynesdale, the father of the current duke, halted his coach outside the door, and entered the shop himself.”
“What a coup,” Patience said and her father chuckled.
“It was remarkable. I don’t believe the duke realized how many people noted his arrival and his presence. He was bent upon his errand, which was to consult with either myself or Robert. He had inherited, along with other assets, a remarkable collection of books and though he did not wish to part with any of them, he was in need of ready money. His father had bound much of the estate into land, which was an excellent investment but one that was not providing the returns that it should or could. The duke intended to adopt many innovations in agricultural methods, and to improve the accommodations of his tenants. In the end, the profits would be much higher, but in the short term, he was short of funds. He confided this to me later: on that day, he merely asked if I might buy several of his books.”
Patience watched her father take an appreciative breath. “He said he had many fine volumes. A Gutenberg Bible, which I could neither afford nor readily sell. I visited Haynesdale House at his invitation, and we chose a dozen volumes between us. I then suggested to him that we might make an exchange, that if he could mention Carruthers & Carruthers to his friends—for I had noticed the increase in business after the appearance of his coach—then I would not have to sell the books. I could keep them for him, for the resurgence of his finances. He was much relieved, for he had not wished to part with any of them, and insisted that we set a time period upon the agreement out of fairness to me.”
“Quite a gentleman.”
“He was. Always fair in his dealings, even with the most lowly of tradesman. A man of honor, to be sure. He was good to his word and I to mine, and in the end, Carruthers & Carruthers prospered as much as the duke’s holdings. He returned for each book, coming at regular intervals, and I would not charge him any interest, given his influence on our trade. Indeed, such was the improvement of our growth as a business that I felt obliged to simply give him back the last volume, for his endorsement had more than compensated me for the loan.”
“What a wonderful story.”
“And better yet, after that, we were friends. I could ask him about the reputation for any man in town, and he brought books to me from friends who were obliged to sell. Our collections were built from those volumes, offered first to me and Robert. With the passing of the old duke, his son continued the tradition. He buys from me, he endorses me, and he even took it upon himself to arrange Catherine’s match. He was always fond of her and when I confessed myself bewildered by the entire question of matrimony for my daughters in your mother’s absence, he took the task upon himself.”
“I did not know.”
“No. When he first came to the house, you were in the nursery as yet. Catherine must remember his visits, for she was in awe of him in his finery. He made your mother laugh, even when she was so unwell, and for that, he has my undying gratitude.”
“So, you will ask him about Mr. Beckham.”
“I know only the man’s reputation, which does him no good service as a prospective match for you,” Patience’s father said. “His grace will know more of his nature, and will better assess the match. I hope his view aligns with your own, Patience, but if it does not, I will decline the suit.”
“Thank you, Papa, for taking such care of us.”
He smiled and reached across the desk for her hand. “A daughter should not be surrendered with indifference, Patience. I would not have a one of you unhappy in your match. I know already that Mr. Beckham possesses a good income and a small fortune. His grace will know of his debts and any other pertinent details that may not be widely known. Lady Beckham wishes to host the wedding breakfast, which is a good sign, to my view, that she welcomes the match as heartily as he indicates. That is no small thing.”
Patience smiled.
Her father beamed at her. “Now, leave me that I might write to the duke.”
CHAPTER5
Arthur could not fathom why he had been invited to the private box of the Duke of Haynesdale at the theatre that evening. He hadn’t been planning on attending himself: the play was Molière’sLe Bourgeois gentilhommeand he was escorting Amelia and her governess to the performance the following evening. On this night, he had been intent upon visiting a certain hell where the stakes were higher. While his luck was good, he would make the most of it.
Still, a duke was not to be denied.
He entered the box at intermission, only to find it vacant—except for a lady sipping a beverage. Her dark hair was elegantly dressed and studded with diamond pins that sparkled in the lights of the theatre. Her dress was of deepest sapphire, lavishly embroidered with silver. She wore long gloves and glittering bracelets on each wrist, as well as a necklace awash in diamonds. A tear-drop faceted sapphire of considerable size hung from the necklace and when she turned to survey him, Arthur saw that she wore earrings to match.
“You might be a goddess of the heavens, Miss Ballantyne, so adorned with stars,” he said, bowing to the famous courtesan.
Her lips curved in a smile and she set aside her glass. “Mr. Beckham. I had heard that you were returned from Venice. How was the weather?”
“Perfect in every way, although I find myself with two new cats.”
She laughed lightly. “I can imagine that they might have been desolated by the prospect of your departure.”
“On the contrary, I was the one who could not leave them behind, although there were moments on our return journey that I doubted the wisdom of my impulse.”
She looked to be truly amused. “Cats, in my experience, suffer worse from the discomforts of travel than most people.”
