Gareth scowled at him, annoyed. “The truth is I am pursuing the husband. Wesley Rockport has a business that is growing fast. He is at the point where men start buying culture.”
“So you plan long strolls through the gallery at Langley House, to impress upon him the need for a collection.”
“I don’t intend to say a word about it. The gallery will speak for itself.”
“Be aware that Lance and I may be in residence some of the time they are there. Lance chafes at being rusticated and may insist on coming up to town again.”
“I will keep them all out of your way.”
“I insist on meeting them, especially if the ladies are pretty.”
“By all means,” Gareth said coolly. “They are both pretty enough, but not your style. Nor do I want the husband calling you out. These industrialists are not like us. They actually love their wives and react badly when someone attempts to seduce them.”
Ives took the warning in stride, but curiosity lowered his lids again.
“Devonshire should be coming up to town for the Season, I expect,” Ives said, changing the subject. “Certainly his mother will be there, and his bastard brother. I will ask Prinny to smooth the path for us to talk to the latter two.”
“If you are there to do it, you do not need me.”
“I would like you there. Then we can compare our reactions and perceptions later. I would want to be very sure further inquiries in that direction were called for before I began them.” Ives stood and stretched. He looked around the sparsely furnished chamber. “You do have an extra bed here, don’t you?”
“One. It is yours if you want it.”
“No servants, however. Damn, I should have brought one from Merrywood.”
“A manservant comes by day. You will have to get yourself into bed, but he will serve you in the morning. There will be water enough upstairs now. He always brings up extra before he leaves.”
Ives rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the rough growth shadowing his jaw. “Can he give shaves without butchering?”
“Yes. Unlike Percy, he does not seek to draw blood whenever he has a sharp weapon in hand.”
Ives stilled. His hand fell from his face. “Did Lance tell you about that?”
“Percy’s smug satisfaction told me.”
Ives picked up his valise and walked to the door. “I’ll find that one extra bed now.” He looked back, over his shoulder. “You did not miss much for someone who only saw us a few times a year, Gareth.”
***
London.
Eva barely contained her excitement as the carriage passed the final toll. Out the window one could see the last of the countryside giving way to the outskirts of town.
Rebecca hugged the door of the carriage, her head to the window so she missed none of it. Wesley and Sarah faced them in the cramped space.
“Do you think the duke will be there? Residing in the house, that is,” Sarah asked.
“I do not know.”
“I think it safe to say he will not be there when we are.” Wesley spoke matter-of-factly, without the least resentment. He might dress like a gentleman and have an income that exceeded that of many of them, but his voice said he knew that dukes did not socialize with such as he, or even acknowledge an acquaintance.
Both he and Sarah looked splendid. Sarah wore a fashionable cream carriage ensemble with Prussian blue trim. Wesley’s coats were impeccable. They had arrived in Langdon’s End two days ago to take Rebecca and her to London in their fine carriage. Trunks tied to the roof held a good amount of Sarah’s wardrobe. “For all of us,” Sarah had explained. Sarah’s lady’s maid rode up there, too, along with Wesley’s manservant.
They entered London in style. The carriage slowed to a crawl and descended into streets flanked by tall houses and busy shops. The neighborhoods grew finer and finer until they turned onto one with independent houses of astonishing size that faced a big park. One more turn, and they stopped at a corner house that filled most of its block.
“Oh, Eva, look.” Rebecca moved from the window so Eva and Sarah could gape. Curved outer stairs led up to the main door, and four levels rose above that one.
Wesley dipped his head to look also. “You will be spoiled proper when this is done, Sarah. I won’t be able to keep you in the style to which you will have become accustomed.”
