Chapter Twelve #2
Benjamin rubbed the dirt off the first round disc with his thumbs. “Does this not resemble those on the coat?”
“I can’t be positive, but there is a definite similarity. Does this prove your theory?” Titan asked.
“Assuredly, it should make Duncan happier.” Benjamin put both buttons in his pocket.
He did not mention the second one. He wanted to examine it closer, for it did not match the larger one.
He turned to the Lyon’s Den’s manager. “Thank you for assisting me and for your attempt to assist Miss Whitchurch. I am in your debt. I wish for Duncan to see these immediately, so, if you will pardon me, I will call in at his office.”
Unfortunately, to Benjamin’s dismay, neither Duncan nor Hartley was in the office when he called upon them.
“Looking for his lordship?” one of the undersecretaries asked.
“Yes, I thought Duncan would still be in. He did not mention anything pressing for this morning,” Benjamin explained.
“The way I understand it, sir,” the man said with a look of serious importance on his countenance, “Lord Duncan stayed home because his daughter was ill.”
“Ill? Lady Theodora?” Benjamin asked in concern. “My sister is very rarely ill.”
“I heard Mr. Hartley say, the lady had taken to her bed. Maybe he did not say ‘ill,’ but that is what I assumed.”
Benjamin did not reprimand the man. “And Mr. Hartley?”
“Lord Duncan sent Mr. Hartley and several men to a place outside of the city, I think towards West Ham Marsh. That is what I overheard Mr. Hartley say. Something important, but Hartley did not share a word, sir. Just told me to be available if anyone called in at the office. Otherwise, I was to file that stack of reports.”
“Thank you,” Benjamin said. “I will catch up with them later.” As he exited Duncan’s office, he hoped Duncan had a lead on his shooter, but he would learn the right of it soon enough.
The buttons were in his pocket, and he would lock them away until he could turn them over to Duncan.
“Time for a meal and the hopes that Miss Whitchurch successfully returned to Macalhey House,” he thought as he ordered Mr. Stanton to take him home.
Three quarters of an hour later, he handed off his hat and gloves to Mr. Patterson. “Did Miss Whitchurch recover her belongings?”
“Yes, my lord. Poor child, but the lady has returned, and her attitude speaks well of her character. I’ve not often seen such a sensible woman in many a year,” Patterson declared.
“I still have several errands to complete today. Might I claim a small meal? And if the lady is available, ask her to join me.”
“Right away, my lord.”
As the butler scampered away, Benjamin took the main steps two at a time. He paused briefly outside Miss Whitchurch’s quarters, but did not knock.
When he returned to the morning room, where he took the majority of his meals when he was at Macalhey House, there was no Miss Whitchurch. “Has Miss Whitchurch again taken to her bed?” he asked Patterson. He was worried for the lady’s health.
Unfortunately, the idea of the lady again in her bed appeared behind his eyes.
He was not, generally, the type of man who thought of women in the same manner as did several of his brothers, but, while watching her yesterday, Benjamin wished to climb upon the other side of the bed and pull her into his arm and…
well, his mind had said that he could sleep beside her, but his heart had another idea.
He was about to express his disappointment, but the door to the morning room opened to admit Miss Whitchurch.
She wore an unadorned cream-colored cambric.
Odd as it would be to say so, her coiled black tresses still managed to capture the rays of sunlight illuminating the room.
A single wisp had escaped and now caressed her cheek.
Though he did not like the idea, his fingers wished to brush across her cheek and know whether her blood ran as hot for him as his blood did for her. “I am pleased you decided to join me, Miss Whitchurch.”
She smiled at him. “I had actually lost track of the time. Thank you for sending word of your return to the house.”
Benjamin enjoyed the appearance of a small dimple at the corner of her mouth as her lips lifted to display a lovely smile. “Then please join me before the food is cold. I wish to hear of how your adventure with your landlady progressed.”
“Splendidly. Mr. Brunswick was most helpful. I have settled all my debts to Mrs. Holland.” She permitted him to hold her chair for her.
“Meanwhile, I had an idea while I found places for my belongings in the other home, and I wished to discuss it with you,” she responded smartly, but he noticed how she wrung her fingers in worry. “I pray you do not mind.”
“No objections whatsoever,” he told her as he took his seat. “You may serve, Mr. Patterson.” Benjamin placed his serviette back on his lap as she adjusted her seat. “First, tell me how the child has progressed today. Is everything acceptable with Mrs. Sullivan?”
“Without a doubt, I am so appreciative of the lady’s advice,” Miss Whitchurch declared. “I have learned several things from her about what to expect of my nephew’s growth.”
“Have you decided on a name for the child?” he asked as Patterson poured their tea.
“Although Cassandra said in her letter that I might choose the child’s name, it still feels as such should be my sister’s domain. What if the name does not suit Cassandra’s opinion?” she argued.
“I suppose it does not matter until he is christened. However, if you do not wish to present the child a name, I shan’t press you. From my observations, the boy simply responds to a familiar voice, not a name,” he assured.
In his opinion, the woman seated at his left hand was quite compelling. The lady was just what she ought to be: Prim. Proper. Intelligent. Caring. And obviously ten times more of a mother to the child than his true mother would ever be.
“Are the rooms in the other house adequate for you and the boy?” he asked to keep the conversation moving and his mind off his desire for her.
“Oh, yes, though I feel quite guilty. You are losing income,” she protested.
Benjamin shrugged with a bit of embarrassment. “As Duncan explained, I prefer my privacy. I may never let the house. Perhaps I will furnish it and make it available to my mother or other relatives when they travel to London.”
“That is excessively kind of you to think of others,” she said with a smile.
“You might invite your parents for a few days, if you like,” he suggested.
She waited until Mr. Patterson served the potato and leek soup before she responded. At length, she said softly, “My parents are too distraught to leave Hampshire. They fear Lord Betts will deny their return to the village. Moreover, I am not assured they would approve of my choices.”
He said with equal quietness. “I have no designs on you, Miss Whitchurch.”
“I am well aware I am not countess material, my lord,” she said without rancor, but with a definite lift of her chin. “I am grateful for your Christian charity.”
Benjamin said what was expected of him, but he was not assured all his motives could be termed “charitable,” but, instead of arguing, he said, “I am sorry you must make these decisions alone. I thought perhaps your family might provide you succor.”
She did not immediately respond, but tears misted her eyes. He wished to reach out and caress the back of her hand, but he did not act on his impulse. Instead, he instructed, “You said you had a suggestion upon which you wished my opinion.”
The lady nodded her gratitude. “Mrs. Gabriel was explaining how you have purchased multiple properties in this area, which you let out to younger sons of the peerage and the gentry, as well as those of the working class—those who wish to live within sight of their warehouses.”
“As I lead a simpler life than many members of the ton, my tastes are not as ‘refined’ as others. Moreover, I see no reason a man who has made his fortune in trade must live above his shops and warehouses.” He shrugged as embarrassment returned: Benjamin rarely spoke so honestly of his beliefs, even to his brothers or Duncan. “I suppose such marks me as an oddity.”
“I never considered you anything but kind,” she corrected.
She sighed again as Mr. Patterson placed sliced ham and peas before them.
The lady waited for Patterson to finish the remove before she continued.
“Mrs. Gabriel spoke of the changes you made at each of the residences, but you were not satisfied with the outcomes. Moreover, she mentioned in a few of the homes, people stole some of the furniture and other objects, which had me thinking you could mark the furniture, drapes, frames, and the like with a mark that represents you and your goals, as well as your family.”
“Such might not prevent the theft, but something along those lines would be easier to recover the items,” he said with real interest. “Tell me more.”
“The idea came from the work Mr. Sustar has me doing for him. Lady Cunningham had requested that after the drapes were cut and hemmed that I place a row of embroidered flowers to the hems and valances. What if we added a small embroidered mark to the drapes, blankets, bedding, and so forth? The drapes could still be specific to the house and the colors chosen for it, but you could mark them as your property. It is one thing for someone to live in Mrs. Holland’s house—under her roof—where she can watch all the time to prevent theft, but it is quite another to let a whole house from someone—a house that is fully furnished.
A small mark could be carved into the tables, settles, and whatever you think necessary. ”