A Most Unconventional Match

‘Perhaps ’tis only a hum, for I cannot picture you and that great oaf in the same room, but I heard that Hal Waterman had called, offering to look into Everitt’s financial affairs.’

‘Yes. Have you heard there were irregularities?’

‘In Waterman calling upon you? ’Tis not precisely irregular, I suppose, but—’

‘No, no,’ she cut him off impatiently. ‘Irregularities in Everitt’s finances. I’ve only just learned that Mr Scarbridge, his solicitor, is a complete incompetent. Heaven knows, I know nothing about finance!’

‘Well, I should hope not!’ Sir Gregory exclaimed. ‘You, dear lady, have no need to trouble your pretty head over complicated matters that were best left to your husband’s discretion.’ He cast a mildly reproachful look at her dress. ‘All the financial expertise you require is knowing which dressmakers create the gowns that best display your beauty.’

‘Indeed,’ Elizabeth said flatly. Somehow that caveat seemed to have escaped the notice of the tough who’d come to threaten her. Apparently Sir Gregory was more pained by her choice of raiment than by the possibility that the estate’s finances might be in total disarray.

Before she could decide whether or not to tell the baronet about Mr Smith’s alarming visit, Sir Gregory said, ‘I must confess to be feeling somewhat…slighted. I would have hoped that if you felt the need for someone to look into your finances, as Everitt’s closest friend, you would have asked me.’

‘Did you know Mr Scarbridge was incompetent?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then why did you not warn me? How am I to protect myself and my son when I have no idea what…obligations are currently being pressed against Everitt’s estate?’

Sir Gregory patted her hand.’ ‘You protect yourself and your child? My dear, you needn’t even consider attempting something so alarming! I know how cast down you’ve been by Everitt’s demise, but remember, you’ve not been left entirely alone and friendless. I fully intended to visit Mr Scarbridge and see what needed to be done once I completed the my own estate business. Everitt was a gentleman, after all. If there are obligations against his estate, the creditors can wait until I have time to deal with them.’

At least one of them wasn’t prepared to wait, Elizabeth thought. And though she frankly avowed that she knew nothing about wills or finances, she wasn’t sure she appreciated Sir Gregory’s cavalier dismissal of her ability to protect her son.

Still, it was vastly comforting to know that in addition to Mr Waterman’s competent assistance, she might count upon Sir Gregory as well.

Though she still must consider it fortuitous that his friendship with Nicky had propelled Mr Waterman to come forward, for his sense of urgency in setting the estate to rights seemed to exceed Sir Gregory’s. Indeed, he must have begun asking questions immediately if the baronet had already heard of his investigations.

‘With you at present so preoccupied, I should rather think you would find it very convenient that Mr Waterman offered to attend to my small affairs. You will not need to put yourself out after all, Sir Gregory.’

‘You misunderstand, dear lady! Any service I can render you would be a pleasure!’ he protested. ‘Besides, though I’ve heard Waterman is quite competent, I’m not sure of the…propriety of him investigating your husband’s finances. There are no blood ties between you, after all, and, as a new widow, you must be careful of appearances.’

Since no blood ties existed between herself and Sir Gregory, his meddling in her affairs wouldn’t be any more proper. But though she’d certainly not intended to do so, apparently she’d wounded his feelings, so she refrained from pointing this out.

Instead, she replied, ‘It’s true that we are not blood kin. But you may recall that my sister Sarah is married to Mr Waterman’s best friend, Lord Englemere, who recently took his family and all my siblings on a Grand Tour of the Continent. Before he departed, he asked Mr Waterman to assist me with any difficulties that might arise during my family’s absence.’ Which was not precisely true, but close enough that it should soothe Sir Gregory’s injured sensibilities and his concern over propriety.

‘Oh. Well, no, I hadn’t been aware of the connection. That would render his calling upon you entirely proper, I suppose.’ Somehow Sir Gregory didn’t look as relieved by the knowledge as she might have expected.

‘Nicky—Lord Englemere—has also told me on several occasions that Mr Waterman is most astute in matters of finance. Englemere and my sister hold Mr Waterman in the very highest regard, so you may rest easy knowing that everything dealing with the will and the estate will be handled by someone of absolute skill and integrity.’

‘As I already said, I have no reason to question either Waterman’s skill or integrity. However…well, how can I put this delicately? He isn’t the best ton. ’Tis said he often keeps quite common company and involves himself personally in financial dealings that a gentleman ought to leave to the bourgeois tradesmen bred to handle them. I just hope that association with him won’t taint you with the odour of the shop.’

Had she any desire to figure upon the ton’s stage, Elizabeth supposed such a warning might give her pause. But since she’d never had the least interest in society, Sir Gregory’s caution left her unmoved…except once again to amusement. The baronet’s countenance was so grave, as if Mr. Waterman’s fashionable failings were of genuine importance, that she had all she could do not to smile.

‘I shall be on my guard,’ she replied, working to keep the mirth from her expression.

‘In addition, competent though he may be, I fear you will hardly be able to comprehend any information Waterman tries to convey. It amazes me that anyone manages to understand his cryptic utterances. Even his mother, dear lady, confesses she finds it difficult to grasp his meaning. Indeed, ’tis almost beyond believing that he could be the son of the incomparable Letitia.’

Elizabeth’s momentary humour faded. Apparently Sir Gregory did not much like Mr Waterman. Regardless of the reasons for his disapprobation, Elizabeth was becoming rather annoyed by his subtle disparagement of a man who was not only highly esteemed by her sister’s family, but whom she herself found to be sympathetic, helpful—and quite attractive.

‘How disappointing for Mrs Waterman,’ she said, an edge to her voice. She’d never met Mr Waterman’s mother, but she could not think very highly of a lady, incomparable or not, who would publicly disparage her son. ‘Though I find her difficulty somewhat surprising. I myself had no trouble whatsoever in understanding Mr Waterman.’

‘Truly?’ Sir Gregory blinked, clearly taken aback. ‘Well. You always were rather observant for a female. But,’ he gestured to the mantel clock, ‘my time remaining is short, so let us proceed to a more pleasant matter! I understand there was a sad accident a few days ago. As distressed as the lad already is at losing his papa, I thought he might appreciate this.’

Sir Gregory picked up a wrapped parcel from behind the sofa and handed it to Elizabeth. ‘Go ahead, open it. If it meets your approval, you can give it to the boy.’

Inside the wrapped package, Elizabeth found a new toy soldier, all gleaming paint and shiny brass. ‘How considerate of you, Sir Gregory!’ Elizabeth exclaimed. The gesture was even more impressive when one considered that the baronet was not a man used to dealing with children.

Though she still could not approve his unkind words about Mr Waterman, Sir Gregory could have chosen no better way to redeem himself in her eyes than by this kindness to her child. ‘How can I thank you?’

‘I take it you do approve, then? To bring you pleasure, ma’am, is all the thanks I desire.’

The fervour of his gaze made her a little uncomfortable. ‘How did you know about David’s broken soldier?’ she asked, looking down at the soldier.

‘Oh, I have my little sources,’ Sir Gregory said with a chuckle. ‘I sent my valet out to find a replacement. I’m pleased he chose something suitable.’

Though she shouldn’t have expected a busy man like Sir Gregory to take the time to visit a toy seller personally, her enthusiasm dimmed a trifle. ‘Yes, he did very well.’

‘Shall we summon the boy and let him have his treat?’

‘If you can spare the time, then, yes, I would be happy to.’ At Sir Gregory’s nod, Elizabeth rang the bell pull to summon Sands and have him fetch David from the schoolroom.

While they waited, Elizabeth prompted Sir Gregory to talk about his visit to his estate. A few minutes later, Sands ushered in her son.

Though his widened eyes showed his surprise at finding his mother had a visitor, David made Sir Gregory a proper bow. ‘Good day, sir,’ he said politely. ‘Sands said you wished me to see me, Mama?’

Elizabeth’s heart swelled with motherly pride at David’s impeccable behaviour before a man she knew he disliked. Indeed, it filled her with gladness just to look at him, so grave and correct as he addressed them both.

Dropping a brief kiss on the top of his head, Elizabeth said, ‘Yes, my dear. Sir Gregory has been kind enough to bring you something, and I thought you ought to have the opportunity to thank him personally.’ She handed him the toy soldier.

Solemnly David regarded the toy. With a smile Elizabeth could tell was forced, he bowed again to the baronet. ‘Thank you, Sir Gregory.’

‘You’re quite welcome, my good man,’ Sir Gregory said in the over-hearty manner of adults who aren’t accustomed to conversing with children. ‘Capital little soldier, eh? No need to fix the old one now. Toss him in the dustbin!’

‘Oh, no, sir!’ David’s eyes opened wide with alarm. ‘I could never do that. Papa gave him to me. And he’s a general, not just a soldier. General Blücher.’

‘Ah, I see. Sentimental value. But one soldier’s as good as another, eh? Except on a battlefield, perhaps.’ Sir Gregory chuckled at his own joke.

David did not look amused. ‘They are not alike,’ he replied, frowning. ‘General Blücher was the head of all the Prussian soldiers. Napoleon might have won Waterloo, Papa said, if General Blücher hadn’t come with his men. This soldier—’ he held up the baronet’s gift ‘—is a Royal Irish Dragoon guardsman. They didn’t fight at Waterloo.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sir Gregory said, clearly beginning to lose patience. ‘But it’s only play, son. Would you rather have a working soldier or a broken general?’

David set his chin. ‘I want Papa’s general. Besides, Mr Waterman is going to fix him. I don’t need yours!’

Tears in his eyes, the boy tossed the soldier to the floor and ran out of the room.

Aghast, Elizabeth watched the door slam behind him. In many ways, David seemed so mature for his age, sometimes it was hard to remember he wasn’t yet seven. Still a baby, really, and aching for the father he missed so keenly.

Embarrassed none the less, Elizabeth turned back to the scowling baronet, who was staring at the rejected toy. With a nervous smile, she went over and picked it up.

‘I’m dreadfully sorry. I know when he’s calmer, David will prize the gift. You must excuse him, he’s still so overwrought—’

‘Poor behaviour shouldn’t be excused, Lizbet, regardless of the circumstances,’ Sir Gregory said blightingly. ‘You do the child no favour by indulging him just because he had the misfortune to lose his papa. Society will judge him on his comportment—which, I am sorry to report, in this instance was sadly lacking. But now I must go. Do be on your guard about Mr Waterman. I shall call and check on you later. Madam.’ After giving her a stiff bow, Sir Gregory walked out.

Elizabeth exhaled a trembling breath. She understood only too well how the mere thought of discarding a prized toy his father had given him, an object that represented many hours the two had spent together, Everitt spinning stories about Waterloo, David hanging on every word as they manoeuvred his soldiers in mock battle, would upset her son. It must seem to the boy almost like suggesting he toss away the memory of his father. Small wonder he’d taken Sir Gregory’s well-meant gift so badly.

But it was a gift and it had been well meant. Sir Gregory was correct. Some time later she would have to reprimand David and bring him to realise that his behaviour had been unacceptable. Worse still, she was going to have to induce him to apologise.

How she’d bring that about, with David already so ill disposed towards Sir Gregory, she’d worry about later. With a sigh at having the day that had started out so promising turn suddenly sour, Elizabeth set off to soothe her son and coax him down for nuncheon.

Chapter Seven

Two mornings later, trying to quell the nervousness in his gut, Hal rang the bell at Mrs Lowery’s Green Street town house. Truly, he’d rather face down a dozen Mr Smiths in some low dive in Seven Dials than meet one Elizabeth Lowery in her drawing room.

The butler who answered the door informed Hal that his mistress was presently working in her studio and ushered him to a salon to wait while he informed Mrs Lowery of his arrival. Hal’s request that Master David be summoned from the schoolroom to see him in the interim was unusual enough to surprise a momentary raise of eyebrows from the butler before Sands bowed himself out.

A little shamefaced, Hal paced the parlour. David having mentioned that his mama always worked in her studio in the morning, he’d deliberately timed his visit for this hour. He’d wanted a respite after he arrived in the house to settle his nerves and a chance to visit the boy before he subjected himself once again to Elizabeth Lowery’s unsettling presence.

When he was finally ushered into her office, he must be able to concentrate on getting out the words to accurately describe the state of Lowery’s finances. He could not let himself be distracted by the rose scent that wafted from her or the mesmerising blue of her eyes that beckoned him to halt in mid-syllable and simply gaze into them. Or the perfection of her skin that made him burn to feel the silk of her face beneath his fingertips…

Catching the direction of his thoughts, he shook his head. He’d have to do better than this. He had but to recall her and his body began hardening, his mind losing its grip on his purpose in coming here. For a few panicked seconds, he considered bolting from the house.

But he couldn’t do his duty by running away and delaying wouldn’t make confronting her any easier. He’d never shied from dealing with difficult situations—witness the last seven years of handling his mother—and didn’t intend to let Nicky down by starting now.

As he rallied himself, he heard the rapid patter of approaching footsteps. A moment later, David burst into the room, the broken soldier dangling from one hand.

The glowing look on the boy’s face as he skidded to a halt just inside the threshold temporarily dispelled all Hal’s misgivings. ‘Oh, Mr Waterman!’ David exclaimed. ‘You came back!’

Once again, Hal was catapulted back to a time when he had been small, grieving and friendless. It was worth all the difficulties he would encounter being around the boy’s mama to bring that look of pleasure and relief to the child’s face.

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