Chapter Fourteen
Eli led Fannyto the privacy of Lucy’s little office. A cacophony of voices (and a few fierce frowns) followed them out of the dining room. He hoped he could finish this interview before the Caulfields, much less the Bensons, agreed on the impropriety of his leading her to a closed room and descended on them.
The office featured little decoration, a simple desk, and a few straight-backed wooden chairs that promised scant comfort. He thought it perfect for what was meant to be, after all, a brief business conversation.
Fanny gazed around, still clinging to his arm, and murmured, “This is different from the one at Clarion Hall.”
A laugh bubbled out of Eli. “It is that.” He lowered his arm, slipping his hand down hers to grasp her fingers. Their eyes met in a moment of amused accord that sent an electric charge through Eli, one he believed bounced around the tiny room. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he swayed ever so slightly toward her.
When her lips parted, the temptation to kiss her held him transfixed, but she dipped her head under the force of his gaze and the moment passed.
Keep your senses, Benson. “We best not take long. Either Rob or Clarion will interrupt if we linger,” he said.
She nodded, peering at the floor.
Eli put a knuckle under her chin and gently raised her face so she had to look at him. “Do you want to go to London?”
It didn’t appear to be the question she expected. Her eyes widened, and flustered words spilled out. “Yes. No… That is, a visit would be lovely, but that’s the least of my problems.” Her normal energy rushed back through her and, with it, irritation. “Eli, what I want is a little place to raise the ducklings in comfort. It appears you are the only one who can determine if that is possible.”
“That’s ludicrous. I’m, I’m…,” he stuttered at the thought.
“You’re the fixer. The one who makes things happen. I haven’t been in Ashmead long, but I’ve already figured that out.”
Heat filled him, flushing his face and fleeing as quickly as it came. “I’m a steward. I advise, I don’t decide, and I can’t tell the earl what is possible unless I know what it is we’re funding.”
She dropped his hand and scowled. “If it comes back to me, I repeat, all I want is a comfortable place. As lovely as everyone is, I would actually prefer to be above the store in Manchester, business or no business, but Rob forbids it.”
Who is the almighty Rob Benson to forbid Fanny anything? Memory of her, blindfolded and confused between two thugs, and of her words about the customer requesting red hair put a swift end to his resentment of his brother. “The store is no longer an option,” he said, shards of sorrow pricking his heart.
“It hasn’t sold yet,” she retorted.
Eli shifted uneasily.
Fanny’s eyes narrowed. “What haven’t you told me?”
“A message came from the estate agent the morning we left. I haven’t had a chance to speak with you with everything else going on,” he told her.
“Oh, I have no doubt the Earl of Clarion’s business is much more important to you than Miss Frances Hancock’s poor problems.” Bitterness dripped from her words. “I assume you don’t anticipate I will like what I hear.”
“Commercial property is valuable, Fanny. Hence the size of the mortgage. It would never do for a home unless you could manage the business, and you agreed in Manchester that you cannot.” He held her gaze, willing her agreement.
She hesitated before nodding. “What did the estate agent say?”
He explained the offer. “It has the advantage of speed. It can be done before the bank swoops in.” He told her his best estimate.
“There will be little left after we pay Horace’s debts,” she said.
“And it is Wil’s, of course. We can put what is left in a trust for his education.” It was the best he could manage with the Rundle inheritance. “That brings us back to your request for assistance from the Clarion estate.”
She bit her lip, considering what he said. “You said ‘we.’ We sell… We pay… Who is this ‘we’? Who has the authority to sign the deeds? Didn’t you say the courts would appoint someone to act for Wil?”
Damn.
*
Gone. Already gone.Fanny thought she had let go of her grandfather’s legacy, her childhood home, but grief gripped her at Eli’s adamant words,“The store is no longer an option.”How could Eli make it that cold-blooded? They stood so close in the small office she could feel his breath, and yet he felt miles away.
It isn’t his fault. None of it is. He means to help, but there is no “we” in the catastrophe.She pulled herself together. She and the ducklings had to close out their old life and move on. She repeated her question. “Who has the authority to sign the deeds? Who can act for Wil?”
