Rake in the Regency Ballroom. Bronwyn Scott
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swindle investors by making promises I could not uphold?’ Lucien was all cold ice, piercing Valerian with a stare that said he was merely a comment away from pistols at dawn. Philippa stifled a groan. The Provincial Bank of Truro was about to erupt into scandal and the doors weren’t even open. She shot her brother a quick plea for help, but Beldon was enjoying himself too much.
‘I am suggesting that there is something of a history of short-lived provincial banks, that’s all,’Valerian said easily, his long fingers caressing the stem of his wine goblet. ‘Their limited livelihood comes from the tendency to invest in risky enterprises. Odds are usually against them. It wouldn’t be the first time something went amiss.’
‘It would be for me, Viscount,’ Lucien said evenly. ‘I have yet to invest foolishly. Those who follow my lead reap the profits of their trust. Don’t they, Pendennys?’ He looked down the table to Beldon for confirmation, putting Beldon in a tight spot.
‘That is certainly true, in my experience,’ Beldon acquiesced. But Philippa noticed he didn’t bother to elucidate further on the point. She could tell Lucien was disappointed. She knew Lucien had hoped Beldon would expound on the British-Bolivian mining colony in the Americas that the two of them had invested in. Beldon had sold his shares a few months back, reaping an enormous profit. It was left to Lucien to blow his own horn.
‘Pendennys and I had a lucrative opportunity in Bolivian silver. We took a large sum in the proceeds when we sold. I’d be glad to guide any investments you might consider making as well, St Just. Your man of affairs is welcome to contact my secretary any time,’ Lucien said with cold magnaminity.
He turned to the rest of the table. ‘Since it is just the four of us, I’d like to suggest dispensing with cigars and brandy. It’s been a long day with departing guests and the trip to Veryan. Perhaps, gentlemen, you would enjoy a game of billiards. St Just, if you’d like to play the pianoforte, feel welcome. Make free with my home. I find I have business to discuss with my gracious hostess. If you will excuse us?’
It was all skilfully done and moments later everyone was dispersed, leaving Philippa and Lucien to talk alone in his library.
The meeting was not at all what she was expecting. The last time they’d spoken, Lucien had been angry. Since then, they’d only spoken in the company of others. She’d anticipated a continuation of their former conversation. She’d anticipated an angry, self-righteous Lucien Canton. What she encountered was a very different face.
‘Sherry, my dear?’Lucien solicited from the sideboard, pouring himself one of his special after-dinner wines.
‘No, thank you. I have packing to oversee, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep this short,’ Philippa insisted, taking a seat in a deep-wing backed chair near the fire.
‘I am sorry to hear that. My valet reported you were preparing to leave. I’d hoped you would stay on after everyone had left. We haven’t had much time together this week,’ Lucien said in sincere tones, taking the seat opposite her.
He drew a deep breath and exhaled, relaxing. ‘This is nice, sitting with you by the fire. Two chums, taking their ease together, eh, Philippa?’ He gave a charming smile, looking and acting more like the Lucien she’d known over the past three years than the arrogant man of the last few days. ‘We are still friends, aren’t we?’
‘Of course, Lucien,’ Philippa said quietly. In truth, as upset as she was about Lucien’s behaviour, she could not logically throw out years of steadfast friendship with him over the matter of a few days and events; events she was responsible for. She imagined she might behave quite the same as Lucien had if she’d been in his place. No one liked being usurped in one’s own house and there was no denying that Valerian hadn’t hidden his dislike of Lucien Canton.
Lucien cocked his head to one side, studying her intently. ‘My God, you’re a beautiful woman, Philippa. The shot-blue silk becomes you.’
Philippa blushed. ‘Thank you. But I am sure that isn’t what you called me in here for,’ she prompted gently. She wanted to be in her room, watching the maid pack her things. When she’d returned from Veryan, she thought some of her things had been moved, that her escritoire had been looked through, gently, of course, but still it felt like a violation. The letter she’d written, but never sent to London regarding Valerian was in a different spot than she’d recollected. For an unexplainable reason, the incident felt like more than just negligence on the part of an unobservant maid cleaning the room.
‘Yes, our business.’ Lucien nodded. ‘I need to thank you for acting as hostess. Everything went splendidly, as I knew it would. I had time to talk business with my guests and you took care of the rest.
‘I also need to apologise. I have not looked after our relationship as I should. I was reckless and selfcentered. Such behaviour caused me to jump to poor conclusions.’ Lucien reached for her hand and closed his fingers around hers.
His hand was warm and she thought the gesture was meant to convey reassurance. But she wasn’t reassured at all. She had the distinct feeling they were being watched, and coupled with the fact that Lucien was not a man who would admit to such shortcomings, something was afoot, although she couldn’t put a finger on it.
‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ Philippa offered, hoping quick absolution would end the conversation. But Lucien wasn’t finished.
‘I have everything to apologise for. I didn’t understand how close you and St Just were, that he was your friend as well as your brother’s. I misunderstood your desire to simply spend time with an old friend. He had your time, Philippa, and I didn’t. It made me a bit jealous and jealousy can cloud a man’s judgement, make him see things that aren’t there or put incorrect constructions on what is there. I am guilty of doing that. I spoke harshly to you on New Year’s Day. You were right. Jealousy does not become me and, indeed, there is no place for jealousy between us.’
Lucien ended his pretty speech and reached inside his evening coat. ‘I have something for you, Philippa.’ He took out a square, blue velvet box and opened the lid to reveal a sapphire pendant on a thin gold chain, tasteful and expensive. It had not come from a local jewellers. ‘I made a shambles out of things New Year’s Day. No woman wants to be asked to wed in a haze of anger.’
‘You don’t have to do this. You don’t need to atone for anything,’ Philippa began to stall. Right now would be the perfect time for Mr Danforth to burst in and start babbling about his bank. The odd man hadn’t bothered to follow any protocols of polite conversation at the dinner table, why not put all that lack of couth to good use and barge in now, when it would be useful?
Lucien was prosing on about his growing sentiments for her and she supposed she’d better pay attention. ‘Although I regret my behaviour during St Just’s visit, I do not regret what his visit has caused me to see. That is, I want to spend my life with you. We are well matched in status and intellect. In you, I see more than a wife and mother to my heir. I see a partner. Would you consider doing me the honour of marriage?’
He was even down on one knee. Philippa was struck by how different her response to this scene might have been had it occurred a month earlier. She might have said yes immediately, as a logical conclusion of their long-standing friendship. Companionship was worth marrying for, even in the absence of passion. Her first marriage had been based on mutual companionship and it had not been a poor experience. But now, everything was somehow different.
Still, she was not foolish enough to toss away a modicum of happiness and security on a whim. Neither was she so much of a sapskull that she would ignore the assets of marriage to Lucien Canton. As her friend, he deserved more from her than an out-of-hand dismissal.
‘Lucien, you pay me a great honour. It deserves thinking about. Rest assured that your proposal will be in the forefront of my thoughts as I return home to Cambourne.’
‘Then take this pendant as a token of my esteem and my affection, Philippa. It will serve as proof that I am in your thoughts.’ Lucien was too gallant to refuse as he fastened the sapphire pendant around her neck. ‘Now, off to your packing,