“I’m always on the lookout for my next big venture, and I will certainly keep you in mind. If you trust me, I promise not to lead you astray.”
Gavin tried not to become too hopeful, but he needed a way out of the hole he was slowly being sucked into. “If my cousin Trey believes in you, that is good enough for me.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Until I can find the person who is stealing my inheritance, I am in need of more money.”
“Now that, I can help you with, my good man.”
Hawthorne held a look of confidence when he nodded. It was difficult for Gavin not to think of the marquess as his savior, but if the man could get him out of debt, he would do anything in his power to repay Hawthorne’s kindness.
Gavin took a drink of his claret. “Although I cannot do it now, I wish to meet with you again so we can discuss this in further detail.”
“Of course, Your Grace. Just let me know when and where.”
“Well, I will be getting married very soon, so perhaps we should meet after the wedding.”
Hawthorne grinned. “Then it appears I should give you my congratulations… or my condolences, whichever you think is appropriate.”
Gavin laughed loudly, causing a few men to turn their heads and look at him from the other tables. “I have heard rumors about you, especially about your exploits with women, and I must admit, we are very similar.” He paused and shook his head. “Actually, I used to be like that. I never wanted to marry, but after meeting Miss Priscilla Hartwell, I cannot get her off my mind. I believe she has taken my heart as well.”
Hawthorne’s eyes widened, and he chuckled. “You don’t say. I, too, have heard about your activities with the fairer sex, and I’m surprised that one has captured you.”
“I assure you, I was more surprised than anyone. I never thought it would happen to me.”
“Well then, I wish you good fortune with your marriage.” Hawthorne lifted his empty glass and frowned. “I suppose I can’t make a proper toast without my sherry.”
“I thank you for your sentiments, but no toast is necessary.” Gavin took another drink from his glass. “I cannot stay and visit long. I’m returning to my estate, and I’m eager to see Miss Priscilla again.”
“I must say, Your Grace.” Hawthorne snickered. “You have it bad for this woman, so I will wish you double the good fortune and I won’t keep you.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “Please contact me when you wish to hear about my newest ventures.”
“Indeed, I shall.” Gavin finished his drink and stood. “And let me say, it was a pleasure to see you again. Perhaps my luck is changing already.”
He prayed he was correct in that assumption.
*
When the dowagerduchess informed Priscilla they would be going into town today, she couldn’t believe the excitement that shot through her. It had been a long while since she had been shopping, since her own mother hadn’t taken time to do this for the Hartwell sisters before her demise several years back, and of course Father wouldn’t have wanted to do such a displeasing task. Shopping was for women, not for men.
All day yesterday, the dowager had drilled Priscilla on etiquette and manners expected from the wife of a duke. At times, Priscilla thought she would scream with frustration. She had been taught much of these lessons at a young age when her mother was alive, but the dowager acted as if she was a simpleton and didn’t know anything. So when the older woman announced they were going into town this morning, Priscilla couldn’t wait. She had the dowager ready faster than usual, and as they stood outside, awaiting the coach, she fidgeted anxiously.
The front door of the manor closed behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder just as Mrs. Jones walked toward them, tying the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin. The housekeeper looked at the dowager, smiling as she pushed a lock of hair away from her face and sticking it back inside the bonnet.
“Is this not exciting?” she asked. “Oh, Your Grace, I was so very happy that you invited me to go shopping with you.”
“And we are happy you could come.” The dowager nodded. After a few seconds passed, she huffed. “What is taking the grooms so long to bring the coach around?”
Priscilla had also noticed the servants’ lateness in having the vehicle ready. “I don’t know, but if you like, I could check—”
The sound of wheels crunching on gravel stopped the rest of her thoughts. Thankfully, the coach was ready.
Mrs. Jones gasped and stiffened. “Why are we going in that vehicle? Your Grace, don’t you usually take the larger one?”
“I do—however, my grandson took it to Birmingham because it was all ready for him to leave quickly. I didn’t know we would be going shopping so soon, but Miss Priscilla is doing so well with her lessons, I realized we didn’t need to wait to buy her more dresses.” The dowager narrowed her eyes on the housekeeper. “What ails you about taking this coach, Mrs. Jones?”
The servant’s laugh held a touch of awkwardness. “I’m sure it seems silly, but I become panicked in closed spaces.”
The dowager flipped a hand. “Not to worry, my dear. I shall let you sit by the window.”
Priscilla touched the housekeeper’s arm. “I understand how you feel. My older sister gets like that sometimes when she is in enclosed spaces.” She looked at the dowager. “Perhaps we could stop from time to time to allow Mrs. Jones some fresh air during our journey.”
The dowager nodded. “Yes, I will instruct the driver on our plans.”
