Fanny’s heated blush said more than words.
“Aha!” Lucy gloated.
“There is nothing between Eli Benson and me, at least nothing personal. I’m a task assigned to him by the Earl of Clarion. The closest he has come to speaking personally is to call himself my ‘business adviser.’” The words tasted bitter on her tongue.
Lucy’s hilarity over that took a few moments to subside. “Business adviser? No man of business would look at you the way Eli looks at you. At least no respectable one. Perhaps we should rejoice that he’s a gentleman.”
“I don’t know what to make of it,” Fanny admitted. “Sometimes I think he’s interested. And then he’s all business.” She grimaced. “There’s that word again.”
“Rob thinks he’s uncomfortable. David—Clarion—is his employer,” Lucy said.
Fanny wanted to voice her horror that Lucy and Rob would discuss such a thing, but something else burst out first. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re David’s sister. Eli would never trespass on David’s goodwill. Besides, you’re an earl’s daughter—”
“That is ludicrous. I’m a shop owner’s granddaughter. A store clerk, and illegitimate besides,” Fanny said.
Lucy indicated the pile of papers on the desk with a nod. “Judging from that, you’re a prodigious writer. You haven’t shared it with me, but I’m guessing that is a novel, and knowing you, whatever you set your mind to is brilliant. Eli dragged you to publishers Friday. He must know. Perhaps that puts him in awe of you.”
“More likely it gives him a disgust—a woman who wishes to earn coin by writing,” Fanny retorted.
Lucy snorted. “Eli is not so big a fool as that. Have you asked him? What happened with the publishers?”
“He called it research. Clarion suggested it,” Fanny said.
Lucy bit the inside of her lip. “Interesting. I wonder if he meant to throw you together.”
Fanny didn’t respond to that nonsense. “They think I need a business plan—I’m a writer, Lucy, not a wool manufacturer. How does that require a business plan? Perhaps they hope it will make me financially independent.” She sighed. That certainly aligned with her own hopes. “In any case, Clarion has agreed to purchase a cottage for me and the ducklings. A place where I can write in peace.”
“That’s what you want? Wil and Amy won’t be with you forever. Then what?” Lucy asked.
“Then I’ll have my house and my writing,” Fanny said firmly. “I can now say I’ve visited London. Once will be enough. I’m already looking forward to Ashmead. Don’t you miss it?”
Lucy took the hint and the change of subject. “Every day. But my home is with Rob, wherever that takes me. We’ll be back at Willowbrook by Michaelmas for my quarterly visit to oversee the estate. I check on the fields, the tenants, and my bees. Rob makes himself comfortable at the Willow and visits with old Robert, who delights in Kit. Then it will be back to London until Christmas. It works.”
“I’m glad to know I’ll see you regularly,” Fanny murmured. She polished off a sandwich. She’d been hungrier than she’d realized. For a moment, she thought she was safe from Lucy’s speculation.
“You need to ask him,” Lucy said, cutting up the peace.
“What do you mean?”
“Eli. Ask him what he thinks about your writing.” Lucy leaned forward. “Better yet, tell him you’ll entertain his attentions. With only Wil and Susan for chaperones on the way, you’ll have ample opportunity.”
“Lucy!” Fanny’s horror wasn’t feigned. A lady didn’t say such a thing to a gentleman.
Did she?
