Page 99 of A Symphony for the Earl

“Oh, thank God. I don’t know what I would have done had you refused. Jumped off London Bridge, no doubt. My life would be meaningless without Valentina at my side.”

“I suppose until recently, I would have refused you, despite our deep friendship or your financial gains. My plans for Valentina’s happiness were ambitious indeed.”

“And I was sure you would object. What on earth did I say to change your mind?”

Richard walked over to the bay windows, staring at the street outside Merrick House. The London morning was in full play. People cluttered the sidewalk, and carriages lined the roadway.

“I realized my plans didn’t focus on my sister’s happiness, but on mine. And it wasn’t your eloquence that made the difference, although I’m pleased to find you care so deeply for Valentina. That means more to me now than it did some months ago.”

“Because you’re finally in love, Richard. I must admit I feared for you in that respect. You have had a certain detachment in your dealings with the fairer sex, and I worried you might marry for duty alone.”

“I would have,” he admitted. “I didn’t think I could accept the vulnerability love demands, but Fiona has taught me the rewards are worth the risk. It’s a novel sensation to have your heart laid bare to another, but I’ll adapt. Anyway, you know I must be quite delirious with happiness to accept your suit.”

Denys grinned infectiously. “You will forgive me if I do not follow your example and rush to the altar. We don’t all have the stature to shake tradition. Valentina and I will observe custom, and plan to be married next fall.”

“Which reminds me…” He adjusted his cravat and reached for the beaver hat and gloves on the credenza. “I have a father-in-law to convince.”

Denys winced. “I don’t envy you that task, but I wish you all the luck in the world. Don’t let him raise your hackles, Richard. Stay the course and remember your purpose. And keep in mind the reward if you succeed.”

He bowed. “I’ll endeavor to do so.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Earl of Seldon and Mr. Rafferty Meet Again

When Richard pulled up his black curricle in front of Steven’s Hotel, Jerome jumped down to take the horses’ heads. He had chosen to take the level-headed bay pair, and the bustling Monday morning crush of vehicles and riders on Bond Street only confirmed his decision. Fortunately, he managed to arrive in time.

Steven’s was a venerable stone structure standing three stories at the end of Holcomb Street’s line of shops and businesses. It wasn’t the most fashionable hotel in London, but enjoyed a very respectable reputation that catered to upper-class bachelors and successful businessmen. He strode purposely up the wide stone steps as nearby St. George’s church chimed the hour.

When he stepped inside, a serious-looking young man in a black frock coat and dark cravat hurried toward him.

“Lord Seldon, it’s my honor to welcome you to Steven’s. Mr. Rafferty has reserved a parlor, and if you’ll follow me, I’ll attend to your comfort. A footman is on his way to inform Mr. Rafferty of your arrival.”

Once in the well-appointed parlor, the host took Richard’s hat and caped driving coat. “Would Your Lordship care for some libation?”

He declined. Left alone, Richard drew his coattails aside and took one of two overstuffed chairs situated with a small table between them. Brushing a speck of dust from his black wool morning coat, he smoothed the taupe pantaloons his tailor had insisted were the height of fashion.

He had to give Maxwell credit that they were more comfortable than breeches, though he had questioned the considerably tighter fit. When he was assured, rather stiffly, that Thomas Maxwell would never allow his most illustrious client to appear less than perfectly dressed, Richard sighed and said no more.

He pulled at his starched cravat, wondering why he had tied it so damn tight and rose to circle the room restlessly. Fortunately, Gerald Rafferty appeared in the doorway before nerves got the better of him. They shook hands cordially, but the tension was palpable. Richard took the initiative to extend an olive branch.

“I regret that our last meeting ended in discord, Mr. Rafferty. I hope that we might come to a better understanding today.”

“I appreciate your sentiment, Lord Merrick, but fail to see the purpose of any more discussion. I plan to return to Dublin at the end of the week and take my daughter with me. Your family’s kindness has been generous indeed, and I am well aware my disappearance placed Fiona in dire circumstances. You were kind to take my daughter under your protection, but that responsibility is no longer yours.”

Richard resisted the urge to argue. It would only make matters worse. “Mr. Rafferty, I must be completely honest with you.”

A spark of curiosity appeared in his dark eyes. “Please do.”

“Shall we have a brandy, or better still, a shot of whiskey before we continue? I am sure our host is hovering nearby.”

“That’s an excellent idea. I will find him.”

When Rafferty returned, he took the armchair facing Richard’s and there was a moment of awkward silence. He was thankful when a servant entered and set two glasses of amber liquid on the table between them.

When they were alone again, the Irishman raised his glass. “Sláinte.”

“Sláinte.” He took a sip and looked down, considering the contents of the glass. “Excellent. But not English whiskey, I think.”