“Indeed?” Papa’s expression moved from surprise to growing interest.
No, no. I would not let Graham’s opinions overshadow mine. I did not want Brighton. I wanted Lyme. I wanted Papa and time away where things moved slow, where people conversed simply for the sake of conversation with absolutely no connection to Mr. Lennox or the whispers that followed.
“Lyme’s history is superior to Brighton in every way,” I said. “We could visit for a fortnight, Papa. We could leave ...”
“... truly must visit to experience the town for what it is.” Graham was droning on. Papa’s gaze warred between us, and desperation caught hold of my will like an iron trap.
“Tomorrow!” The word burst from my lips, silencing the room, and I flinched at how utterly ridiculous the suggestionwas. Calculated, planned—that was Papa. Spontaneity was as rare as an early rose.
Graham’s lips parted. That irritating crease in his brow deepened as he watched Papa with as much confusion and curiosity as I.
“Dearest,” Papa said to me softly, laying his cutlery on his plate. So much said in that single word.
I fell back into my chair, my shoulders drooping. What more could I say to convince him? I couldn’t tell Papa how foolish I’d been. How I’d trusted Mr. Lennox, believed his charm to be genuine care, and thought myself falling in love. The truth was I hadn’t known anything about him. Not really. Because all men were glorious charmers, all aiming lovely words at their latest ambition. The only man who’d never wanted anything from me was Papa, and it seemed even he had other priorities of late.
Graham shifted in his seat. Then he placed his napkin to the side of his plate. “Perhaps I should leave you for—”
Papa lifted a hand. “Not at all. Finish, and we shall have port.”
A rejection. Good heavens, how it burned my heart. It welled in my throat and pooled at the corners of my eyes. “Then I shall excuse myself,” I managed to say.
But just as I made to stand, Papa grasped my arm. “Annie, sit,” he chided. “I have an idea. One that I think will be pleasing to us all.”
I caught Graham’s gaze, but he quickly looked away. At least he gave me the decency of composing myself.
“It may not be Lyme, but Mr. Everett is right. Brighton is flourishing. He has an investment deal he’d like me to consider there, but I find myself in want of time. One can neverhave enough, it seems. Everett, I hope you understand, but there is no one in this world I trust more than my daughter.”
I looked at Graham, who mirrored my confusion. What was Papa planning?
“I trust her opinions,” he continued, “and her knowledge on the trends of London Society. If you could convinceherof Brighton’s worth, and of the land you wish to invest in, then you may also have my good opinion, and we shall have a deal and contract to sign upon my return.”
Graham went as pale as the goat cheese on his plate.
Papa turned to me. “Anna, dearest. Do this for me—
determine if Brighton is worth an investment, and afterward we’ll find our little cottage by the sea in Lyme. Hmm?”
I tried to make sense of what Papa had just said. There was a business venture brewing between him and Graham, and somehow, by some strange turn of luck,Ihad been granted decision-making power.
But most importantly, Papa had agreed to my proposal. He’d take me to Lyme.
The investment noise would last a few days at most. Then we could rid ourselves of Society, Mr. Lennox’s pursuit, and the gossipmongers. We’d have no one to worry over but ourselves, just like old times.
I could not temper my grin. “I would not mind at all, Papa.”
Papa grinned in return. “This is an excellent plan. Everett, if I may prevail upon you, Annie will leave with you tomorrow, and I shall follow shortly after the ...meetingin Bath I told you about.”
My jaw went slack.“What?”
Graham cleared his throat. “I—of course,” he said,shifting in his seat. He blinked hard several times, and for once in his life, the man looked terrified.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, leavewithhim?”
Papa could be oblivious to some of our interactions, but he was not daft. He knew Graham and I were not fond of each other.
“Everett’s family lives in Brighton,” Papa said to me. Then he turned to his friend. “She need only stay with your family for a few days—five, if I can push the horses and reach my destination in good time. A week at most.”
“A week? Papa,” I started to argue. “Do you not think that improper? I can certainly wait a week for your return.”
