AN ITINERARY IS REVEALED
April 4, 1844, at the Bostwick townhouse in Mayfair
A blustery wind accompanied Elizabeth Bennett-Jones, Viscountess Bostwick, when she rushed into her house followed by her daughter, Adeline. The butler, Elkins, hurried to close the door once the women’s skirts had cleared the threshold.
“Oh, my,” Elizabeth breathed as she allowed Elkins to help her out of her redingote.
“Of all the days to have to be at the charity,” Adeline murmured under her breath, shrugging out of her own coat. “At least it was a good day, was it not?”
“Very,” her mother agreed. “Although I intend to have a word with your father about a particular bank manager,” she groused as she shed her gloves into Elkins’ waiting hands.
Elizabeth’s charity,Finding Work for the Wounded, specialized in placing wounded soldiers—and as of late, any men who were disabled in some capacity—into honest employment. She’d had a young man perfectly suited to a teller position, but due to a missing leg, he would be required to lean or sit on a stool as he performed his duties. The bank manager refused to hire him, despite Elizabeth’s attempted bribe.
Even before she made it into the hall of Bostwick House, George Bennett-Jones, Viscount Bostwick, was out of his study and had his wife pulled into his arms. Despite their daughter’s presence and Elkins still in the vestibule, he kissed her thoroughly.
Adeline rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as she waited for her parents to finish the kiss. Having paid witness to such outrageous displays of affection nearly every day of her life, she was used to it. She also knew that her father had overheard her mother’s complaint and was using the kiss as a means to deflect her mother’s anger—for the time being.
“I’m glad you’re home and out of that awful weather,” George whispered, once he’d finally finished the kiss.
Elizabeth gazed up at him for a moment before she blinked. “Well, I’m certainly glad I am as well,” she murmured. Her dazed expression cleared, and she allowed a sigh.
“What is it, my sweet?” George asked, his eyes darting briefly to their daughter.
“It’s not my fault,” Adeline stated, her hands going to her hips. The move was exactly the same as one Elizabeth frequently employed when she was upset about something. “That odious Mr. Turnbull at Barclays refused to hire Mr. Cromwell because he cannot stand on his wooden leg for long periods of time.”
George furrowed his brows. “Barclays?” he repeated. Having been married to Elizabeth nearly as long as she’d been running her charity, he had learned over the years who among employers were good about taking on disabled workers and who were not—even when a bribe was involved. “New manager?” he guessed.
“Will you have a word with him?” Elizabeth asked in a small voice. Over the years, she had tried hard not to involve George in the negotiations over hirings, but sometimes a man was required to talk sense into another man. Given his position as a viscount and hers as the daughter of a marquess, the couple rarely had to use threats of their relationships with aristocrats to convince someone to hire a deserving man.
“Forget Barclays,” George stated, stepping away from Elizabeth to hurry into his study.
Elizabeth followed. “But they have a position,” she argued.
“I’m surprised you didn’t start with the Bank of England,” he murmured, taking a seat behind his desk. “Teddy will hire him if he’s qualified.”
“I have prevailed upon him twice in the past two years,” Elizabeth argued, referring to Baron Theodore Streater. Back in 1815, he had been her very first client atFinding Work for the Wounded, and he had worked at the Bank of England ever since, moving up into higher positions of authority as older employees retired or resigned. When his mother died a few years later, he inherited Warwick’s Grammar and Finishing School and then married Ariley’s illegitimate daughter, Daisy. The baroness was the headmistress of the school and mother to two children.
Despite his wife’s protest, George had already begun penning a note. “I fenced with him earlier today,” he said. “He was complaining about an incompetent clerk. Someone hired because he was the son of someone important,” he added as he signed his name. He sanded the sheet and carefully dumped the fine granules back into the silver container. “I told him I would mention his need to you.”
Elizabeth inhaled softly. “I hope the two clerks I placed there last year are working out to his satisfaction,” she murmured.
“Oh, they are,” George assured her as he folded the note. “Elkins!” he called out.
The butler was at the door in only a moment. “See to it this note is delivered to Mr. Streater at the Bank of England,” he said as he handed over the note.
“Yes, my lord,” Elkins replied as he nodded and backed out of the study.
George turned his attention back on his wife. He was about to tell her his news when she ended up back in his arms. “Oh, George. I do love you,” she whispered before her lips took his.
Enjoying the kiss, George decided to continue it far longer than usual, even considering the thought of escorting her up to their apartments so he might engage her in a quick tumble. If she discovered he had kept her in the dark regarding news from their oldest son, though, she would be furious with him. Better he wait until later that night to make love to her.
“I have news about David,” he whispered when he finally pulled away.
Her eyes glazed over from their kiss, she stared at him in confusion. “David who?” she asked in a whisper.
George threw his head back and guffawed. “Now I wish Ihadtaken you upstairs for a tumble,” he said as he continued to chuckle.
Her expression of confusion finally clearing, Elizabeth gasped. “Are you speaking ofourDavid?” she asked in alarm.
