That hadn’t mattered. All that had mattered was getting to Charlotte, but as the hack trundled through Mayfair, John had made the stupid, stupid decision to stop by Walter’s home and have his brother give him a fresh change of clothing. Surely Walter owed him that much, at least. If John was going to fall at Charlotte’s feet, he’d prefer to do it smelling fresh.
The house had been abandoned. There was no sign of John’s butler, housekeeper, or cook. Walter’s dressing room had been in shambles, as though hastily rifled through and semi-packed.
The king’s guards had shown up before John had had a moment to change. No matter how many times John insisted he was no longer the Viscount Harrow, the guards refused to listen. Apparently, they were to take any and all Viscounts Harrow to appear before the king. That had been hours ago, and while he’d been given food and tea, the attendants who waited on him refused to give him pen and paper.
“Please,” he said again. “Let me send word to my betrothed. Let me tell her where I am.” The last thing he wanted was Charlotte thinking that he had boarded the ship without her. He didn’t want her believing for a moment that he had chosen his life in America over a life—any life—with her here.
After several more hours, John was escorted from his chamber to the throne room, where the king sat unamused, flanked by equally grim-faced attendants.
“Your Majesty,” he said as he bowed, trying to keep the frustration from his tone. Whatever Walter had done now, it was once again impacting John.
“Mr. Barnesworth,” the king said. “I can smell you from here.”
John was a good twenty feet in front of the throne, but he was unsurprised. The attendants on either side of His Royal Majesty snickered, but John didn’t have the energy to care. “My apologies, Your Majesty. My clothes are crossing the ocean as we speak.”
The king looked across at one of the aides standing at the edge of the room. “Find Mr. Barnesworth some clothes that don’t smell like arse.”
John gave his thanks and then waited to find out what the king wanted of him, too tired and too keen to see Charlotte to truly care.
“Your brother is proving quite the issue. My officers say that he has once again disappeared from England to escape the consequences of his actions.”
Damn. “I apologize for whatever my brother has done this time. He is…irresponsible.”
“He is a liar and a fraud and he deliberately preyed on my good nature, with no intention of returning the money he owed me. Faking one’s death for financial benefit is against the law.”
“Oh,that.” It served his brother right that his schemes had come undone so quickly.
“Were you aware of your brother’s deception?” The king traced the beveled edge of the throne’s arm with his fingertip as his gaze bored into John’s. His tone might be calm, but the violence in his stare made John swallow.
“Not until his return, Your Majesty. I would not have taken p-part in such actions.”
There was silence as the king’s finger went around and around the edge of the throne. John’s eyes found his boots, and they remained there as the monarch weighed John’s response.
There was a muted clap as the king smacked his hand on his thigh. “Very well. There will be consequences for your brother. I have already spoken with the prime minister. There will be a motion to strip Lord Harrow of his titles put forward in tomorrow’s session. I do not enjoy being fleeced, Mr. Barnesworth, and I think you’ll find the rest of the House of Lords agrees. They will be quick to pass such a motion, I think.”
A breath of relief escaped John. The estates reverting to the crown would give the people who worked and lived on them a modicum more security than they had with Walter as their lord. “Your decision is wise, Your Majesty.”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “I do not need your approval, Mr. Barnesworth.”
John nodded hurriedly. “Of course not. I spoke out of turn.” Perhaps that would be all and the king would allow him to leave, finally. John waited to be dismissed, heart sinking as the king motioned to one of his pages, whispered in his ear, and then turned his attention back to John. It wasn’t over then.
“Is it true that you sold off your business to pay your brother’s debts?”
“It is.” And despite how ghastly it had all turned out, if John was faced with the same situation, he would make the same choice. He’d sold the firm to extricate Charlotte from Brunel’s clutches. Her safety would be worth it ten times over.
“I like you, Mr. Barnesworth. I have always liked innovative people. I like the creative energy they bring to a room. I like their ideas. I am a great patron, you know.” He sat back in the throne, his displeasure and judgment replaced with an air of curiosity.
“I am aware of Your Majesty’s generosity.” For what else could one say?
“I have made my decision. Your contributions to society have not gone unnoticed. Your new steam engines have been a boon to the country’s economy and to the safety of its citizens. Your inventive spirit promises great things and your work has been a true service to me and my people.”
“I…Thank you…”
The king sniffed. “I am bestowing upon you an earldom in reward for your service. I will transfer your brother’s estates to your care and protection as soon as the legalities of stripping him of his titles are done. I trust this is agreeable?”
Agreeable? Only a month ago, becoming the Viscount Harrow had felt like the worst thing that could happen to him. A title had been the last thing he’d wanted. He’d railed at the thought of returning to England, resented the responsibilities, and been terrified of what they’d meant—a life in England, among the society he’d hated. Just a month ago, he’d have thanked the king but politely declined.
But as an earl with estates and his fortune returned, he could give Charlotte the life they had planned for. And truth be told, he didn’t hate the idea of living among theton. He knew he could be a good lord and he could make his way in society just fine. His heart didn’t leap in breathless anticipation at the thought, but neither did it shy away.
