Page 37
“Only Alcock and Somerton. I thought you were never coming back. And now we’ve only a fortnight left in London, and then when will I see you again?”
“I could take a house near you for the summer.” He wanted to keep Verwood a surprise.
“Would you? Even if London were to burn to the ground?”
“Let it burn.” It was a reckless declaration. He was quite busy with new orders for their engines and discussions with Braidwood about how to better organize London’s resources against fire. He and Grandfather Cole were having their perpetual argument about employing boys and girls in the ironworks. Grandfather said they were cheap, their small fingers were essential for some of the more intricate parts of the machines, and their families needed the earnings. Raven argued that they could earn more for their families if they got an education first. He did not remind Grandfather Cole that he, Raven, had crawled under spinning mules for bits of cotton until a boy not much bigger than himself had helped him run away.
Again, Amabel’s little moue appeared, an attractive pursing of her full lower lip that made a man want to kiss away her troubles. “But there are no suitable houses near us.”
“What none?” He supposed she didn’t think of Verwood because the family had hardly advertised the place.
“I’ll ask Mother. She’ll know.”
“Where is your mother? I should pay my respects.”
“She’s in the card room, so we can dance all we like.”
“Living dangerously, are you?”
“There’s so little time, and we must make the most of it. Lady Huntingdon’s orchestra is not very good, but I suppose that with the right partner I won’t care.”
Raven hadn’t noticed any flaw in the music, but he hadn’t a trained ear. Amabel was adept at the harp, a difficult instrument. “By all means, let us dance then.”
Couples began to take to the floor for a waltz, and Raven led Amabel to a place in the circle of dancers. One of her gloved hands settled in his, and the other touched lightly on his shoulder. He put a hand to her waist, secure in its fortress of whalebone and buckram, and the lilting waltz began. It was like moving in a dream, floating, effortlessly, borne up by the music.
He grinned down at her. Her forehead creased in a tiny frown.
“What am I to call you?” she asked. “Sir Adrian sounds stiff and formal, and Mr. Cole sounds so … plain.”
“Would a title please you?”
Her eyes brightened. “I don’t depend on your having a title, of course. It is only that your wife will be plain…”
“…Lady Cole. You don’t want to be Lady Cole.”
“It’s a small thing. It hardly matters to me, you know. I will always be an earl’s daughter, but it would be nice for children, if there are children someday. You could get a title, you know, a real title. It would have to be a new patent, like the ones from three years ago, but you have such achievements, you deserve one.”
“You know I make things go my way. If Lady Amabel wants me to have a title, I’ll find a way. My friend Wenlocke might help.”
“Wenlocke?”
He nodded.
“You didn’t tell me you knew Wenlocke. I thought Ned Farrington was your only titled friend.”
“I’ve known Wenlocke since we were boys.”
She smiled at him again with her breathtaking smile. “But what am I to call you then?”
He cocked his head, pretending to consider the problem, and whirled her deeper into the dance. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to call him Raven. But Amabel belonged to his new life, not the old.
“Cole is too plain. What about Colin, Cornelius, Augustus, or Fitzwilliam?”
Chapter Fourteen
In the two days of rain that followed the Montford picnic, Cassie had no opportunity to walk, no chance to see Sir Adrian. She helped Honoria shelve her books and tried not to worry overmuch about any delay in telling their tenant of her encounter with Mr. Kydd. She felt that once she told Sir Adrian, her odd freak of pretending to be Bluebell would appear in its proper light, not as a deception, but as a lark of sorts, and not as an attempt to ferret out truths about his past as a boy called Raven.
On the third day, the sun came out, and Grandmama returned from the stables before nine to insist that Cassie come at once to help with Sir Adrian’s messenger boys.
