Chapter 27 #2
He’d hoped to spend several mindless hours sorting through artifacts and jotting notes for display cards, not sitting with the two men closest to the woman he could barely take his mind from.
Bloody hell, maybe a meal and drink would help him sort through his coming dilemma. The possibility of his intention to court Miss Samantha properly—with her brother and brother-in-law’s approval—could be discussed over their meal.
“If you have other plans—“ Cartwright’s brow rose.
“No,” Eli insisted. “No, I do not. I would very much enjoy joining you.”
Cartwright clasped his shoulder and turned toward the front door. “Wonderful, my carriage is being brought round to take us.”
At the mention of conveyances, Eli remembered Cartwright’s damaged phaeton abandoned on the road leading out of London.
If he planned to broach the subject of courtship, it would not be in his best interest to mention the broken carriage until after Cartwright and Garrett seemed amiable to his pursuit of Sam.
Hell, maybe he should hold off telling the earl until all the betrothal papers were signed.
The carriage ride to White’s passed quickly, Cartwright lost in his own thoughts and not bothering with chitchat.
It gave Eli time to brush the dirt from Ralph’s cart from his trousers. He’d offered the man money in exchange for transporting them into London, but the farmer had refused, only promising to check on the phaeton on his way back home to make sure vandals hadn’t set upon it.
His grin returned at the thought of Sam nestled in the filthy cart, with nary a complaint as they were jostled and jarred the entire journey.
It was not hard to picture her, a heavy pack on her back and garbed in thigh-hugging trousers as she kept at his side while they explored the desert or used machetes to cut a path through the South American jungle.
She continued to surprise him with each hour they spent together.
In Derbyshire, she’d appeared much like the spoiled, well-mannered debutante she was, but even then, Eli sensed a deepness to her.
A part of her that she hid from others. Chances were if he hadn’t happened upon her in Cummings’ study, looking through that scandalous book, he would have never discovered the enchanting creature she was.
Sam did not trust easily, but she had good reason. A reason Eli understood better than most.
She was quick to divert a subject if she sensed it was not to her liking—another skill Eli was adept at.
Sam had no qualms about gaining what she wanted—by any means necessary—be that an education in intimacy or an outing all too unsuitable for an innocent maiden.
Elijah envied this trait in her. He tended to push others away, deny himself what he truly longed for in an attempt to keep others at bay, in turn, guarding himself against hurt and loss.
However, he was determined to change that.
His goal for prolonging his stay in London was to court Sam properly.
Do anything and everything to make her happy; bring the light to her eyes he’d first noted at Hollybrooke.
That Sam appeared to revel in their time together also gave Eli hope for his future—their future.
He would wait in anticipation for her next note requesting his company on an outing. Or was she prepared to invite him into her home, Craven House? Maybe it was his turn to take the lead and call on her, make a plan of his own?
Bloody hell, but he had no idea what activities a couple did when courting, especially in London.
In Liverpool, he might invite her to the harbor and take her out on one of the many schooners to watch the sun set.
Or invite her to the Sunday gathering at his local parish for a meal with his local community.
Even an afternoon at Tidbell’s Inn for a spot of tea.
Eli’s connections and knowledge of town life—or lack thereof—was no more glaring than in that moment.
Focusing on Cartwright on the opposite bench, he watched the man scribble in a small journal he held close, his pencil feverishly moving across the paper as if he sensed if he slowed down, his thoughts would evaporate.
“What are you writing?” Eli asked.
Cartwright glanced up, puzzled, as if he’d forgotten he was not alone in the carriage. “Oh, I am making notes of topics to speak about with my dear sister, Theodora, when I travel to her school in Canterbury.”
Eli pictured the precocious girl he’d met in Derbyshire, no more than thirteen, but destined to be a true beauty with an intellect to match. “I hope her journey to school went well. If I remember correctly, she was to set off for Canterbury when you and Lady Cartwright started your bridal tour.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Correct, Lord Ridgefeld. I hadn’t expected you’d retain such inconsequential information.”
“It is not every day a man meets a young woman destined for greatness, Cartwright.” Elijah wondered if he spoke of Lady Theodora or Sam. “I look forward to one day speaking with your sister about the merits of girl’s boarding schools as opposed to private tutors.”
“I am certain Theo would enjoy a spirited debate on the subject.” Cartwright nodded, a lock of his fair hair falling across his face.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and the door opened to reveal the famed gentlemen’s club White’s.
Until now, Eli had only been privy to stories of the place’s grandeur: the dark, masculine interior, the male camaraderie found within its exclusive walls, and the relaxation of sharing a private evening reading The Post and drinking port.
“Coming, Ridgefeld?” Cartwright called from the walk outside the carriage.
Eli hurried to join him and hide his anticipation of being inside.
It would be unbecoming to show his exhilaration at embarking on an age-old tradition among society men.
His grandfather had brought Eli’s father here many years ago.
And if the late marquis had been afforded a few more years, Eli was certain they would have come here together, as well.
Instead, Cartwright stood beside him, and Sam’s brother waited inside. Could these two men fill the void his grandfather’s demise had left within Eli? Would they become his friends? His family?
“Well, Ridgefeld.” Cartwright slapped him on the back. “Let us enjoy a bit of peace and quiet before returning to my townhouse and discovering the evening entertainment my dear wife has planned for us.”
Eli gulped. “Both of us?”
“You are our guest, and Jude informed me it is only proper to entertain one’s visitor for the duration of their stay.
” Cartwright recited the words slowly, much as he had the morning of his wedding in Cummings’ office when he bid Eli to depart.
The earl was only a messenger, and therefore, held no responsibility for the repercussions Eli faced with Sam. “Shall we?”
The door opened as they neared to allow them entrance, and swung just as quickly closed to keep the prying eyes of the loitering individuals outside from invading and disturbing the sanctity of the club.
Would Elijah give up his quiet existence in Liverpool for a life surrounded by the extravagant nature of town society? The answer was simple…if it were Samantha’s wish, he would grant it.
Cartwright waved to Lord Garrett Davenport and the man moved toward them.
“You did not say you were bringing him.” Sam’s brother nodded at Eli, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “But I guess he can stay. This way.”
Eli’s first thought was that the man jested. They were barely acquainted with one another; there was little opportunity for the man to make any decisions one way or the other about Eli in such a short time. That did not stop the pang of hurt he felt, though.
The trio moved to a table set for them before the roaring hearth as a manservant added a third place setting.
“I hope you don’t mind I selected the grouse and wild salmon for our meal.” Garrett dropped into his seat, a drink already in his hand, obviously unconcerned if either man took issue with the selected fare.
Elijah turned to admire the great bay windows at the front of the establishment, the dark mahogany wood walls that matched the furniture to perfection.
Even the servants’ garb was highlighted with a dark blue, the same hue used for the upholstery of the overstuffed chairs scattered about the room in some organizational arrangement that eluded Eli’s understanding.
Behind him, Eli heard Garrett speaking in hushed tones with Cartwright. Phaeton…London countryside…repairs…bloody inconvenient…no one hurt…just a carriage, where the only words he could make out between the pair. Sam must have sent word of their phaeton ride misfortune to her sister.
“On the road leading out of London?” Garrett shouted loudly behind him, before hissing, “That is very far from Hyde Park, do you not think? What where they doing all the way out there? Did you think to question that?”
“Certainly, I did,” Cartwright’s squeak said he hadn’t thought to question any of it—and Eli was content with that.
It was a conversation to be had at a later time.
“But Garrett, the probability of a carriage having trouble is quite high, especially with a phaeton of its age and usage. I do not think it warrants further discussion.”
Eli continued surveying the room, anything to keep away from the discussion of the damaged phaeton. Not that he was avoiding the conversation, it was only that Cartwright was a much more agreeable and understanding man without Garrett near.