Page 16 of A Figure of Love

Serena chuckled. “Fine, I will grant you Annis’s support without any argument.”

Annis, the language mistress at the academy, was a sensitive dreamer who believed even spiders and insects fell in love; she would likely think an industrialist seeking a wife was a perfect opportunity for romance.

“Well if you were to ask me what you should do,” Miles said, although nobody had. “I would send him my proposal along with an astronomical fee. I would charge enough that you and Oliver would not have to worry about money for a very long time.” The teasing glint in Miles’s eyes had been replaced by something far grimmer.

Like Serena and Freddie, Miles had to work for his living. He was the younger son of an earldom that was so impoverished his family couldn’t afford to give him an allowance after Miles left the army three years ago. Serena didn’t know why Miles chose to work as a dancing master—rather than take up a government post or something more respectable for a man of his class—and she didn’t feel like it was her place to ask. After all, there were plenty of things about her past she chose not to share with anyone, not even her dearest friends.

“What of your sculpting?” Freddie asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “I know you find the notion of designing a garden exciting, but your true passion is your art, is it not?”

Serena considered her friend’s question. Was it? Oh, she loved it when a work progressed according to her internal vision. But Serena knew, deep inside, she would never be a great artist. She would give enjoyment to those who saw her work, but she would not be admired and emulated by generations of sculptors to come.

She realized the other two were waiting for an answer. “He has a brand new stable block, and there is a stall in it that is enormous with doors that open on two sides to provide wonderful light. He said I might take it for my workspace while I live there.” She looked from one friend to the other. “I will be busy with laying out the various parts of the estate to begin with, but once the projects are underway I will have ample time to work.”

Miles nodded. “And he wishes to commission sculptures in addition to the gardening.” It was not a question. “All jesting about the man himself aside, I do not see how you could turn down such an opportunity, Serena—or why you would want to. You might have work for years to come even after the gardens are finished.”

“I know. He has told me I can either do the work myself or choose artists whose work I approve of. It is a great opportunity for me to forge some much needed alliances in the London sculpting community.”

They all knew what she meant—with such patronage power she could enter the ranks of sculptors who had excluded her, both because she was a woman and a foreigner.

Serena looked at Freddie, who had taken up her tambor and was plying her needle. Freddie hated to be idle and her flawless needlework was yet another way she made her money—although nobody was supposed to know she sold her work.

“Am I foolish to be dithering about this, Freddie?”

“It is never foolish to consider all the angles. As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Miles.” She looked up from her stitching, her fawn-colored eyes serious. “I believe this is an opportunity you cannot pass up. You will uproot Oliver, but to good purpose. I also think it will be excellent for the two of you to be together in the country. I will miss him—and you—terribly, but it will be such a pleasant holiday away from the filth and noise of London.” She hesitated and then asked, “And you say Mr. Lockheart will not spend much time there?”

“He does not care for the country and spends a great deal of time running around Britain, meeting his business partner in various places to assess investments. No, I do not think we will see him often.”

“Mr. Lockheart contacted me, you know,” Freddie said.

“He did?” Serena and Miles spoke at the same time.

Freddie nodded, but did not look up from her work. “I was engaged with the Wandsworth girl at the time and had yet another engagement after that. I told him I was not available just then but I sent him a letter indicating when I might be free. He did not respond.”

Miles raised his eyebrows. “When was this, Freddie?”

“Not long after the school closed.”

“We never let you finish telling us what you knew of him,” Miles prodded.

“I told you all I know. He appears to have come from nowhere perhaps fifteen years ago. Other than the fact that he emerged from London, nothing else is known. He belongs to several clubs but almost never steps foot in them. His friend Declan McElroy, by all accounts a far more gregarious man, seems to be his only point of contact with society.” Freddie gave them a wry look. “I suppose he wrote to me in the hope I could simply deliver a bride to him, the way he probably orders everything else. Since I’ve heard nothing about him moving in society I can only assume he’s put the matter aside.”

Serena wondered if it was significant that he’d told her about the orphanage and decided it was not. It was probably that nobody knew about him because he was a man of so few words rather than a man intent on obscuring his past. After all, he had told her of his origins and they were not well-acquainted. No, he seemed the sort to rarely engage in small talk. She must count herself lucky at having lured him into such an indiscretion.

Miles leaned forward, his face suddenly eager. “I understand he utilizes mathematical formulas to determine his investments.”

“I cannot speak to that, but it would not surprise me. He was reading mathematical journals for pleasure while I was there. They were quite. . . incomprehensible. He is a very clever man whose greatest priority is leaving the mundane demands of day-to-day life in the hands of somebody else.” She turned to Freddie. “You knew he hired away Remington’s butler?”

Freddie chuckled. “Yes, it was quite a scandal, wasn’t it? The inestimable Jessup. And you saw him there?”

“He appeared quite contented. He also hired Sandy Featherstone—I saw him there.”

Freddie’s head jerked up and Miles frowned. It was Miles who spoke, “What was he doing there?”

“He claims to be helping Lockheart play the country gentleman. But I think he is playing some game with Landy, his cousin. I’m afraid they are engaged in fleecing Mr. Lockheart.”

Miles shook his head. “The infamous duo—Sandy and Landy Featherstone. Landy was at Eton, a year below me. He was a weasel even then. I am surprised a man as astute as Lockheart would allow himself to be the victim of such obvious schemers.”

“Mr. Lockheart, I think, does not wish to be bothered with trifles. I daresay he engaged Sandy on somebody’s recommendation—much as he is engaging me on Beech’s—and put the matter out of his mind. Unfortunately, Sandy has taken the opportunity of such trust and unlimited latitude to bring Landy into the picture.”