Chapter 3
NEVER ADMIT ANYTHING TO A MOTHER
The following afternoon
Madeline Sinclair set the tea service on the middle of the parlor’s low table and took her regular seat facing the door. “Really, Daniel, must I learn of your improprieties from the neighbor?”
Having left his office early when the continuing rain and dark gray gloom had darkened his office to the point he could no longer work on the McDonald project, Daniel headed for Sinclair House rather than to his favorite pub.
The event from the day before still haunted him—although not necessarily in a bad way. If anyone knew who his caller had been, surely it would be his mother.
Daniel gave a start at hearing her query, though. “Improprieties?” he repeated.
Her quelling glance had him falling into the chair opposite hers.
“Kissing a young lady for just anyone to see?” she said, before lifting the teapot.
Hot water splashed over the strainer, and he winced knowing there would be tea leaves aplenty in the bottom of his cup.
“I thought I raised you better than to be a... a rake. A rogue,” she added with disgust in her voice.
“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me,” he argued.
Madeline paused before pouring the next cup. “That’s not how the gossip has it happening,” she said on a huff.
Remembering she had made reference to the neighbor, Daniel furrowed his dark brows. “I don’t understand how anyone can even know of this,” he complained. “I was alone in my office—”
“You have a secretary,” she reminded him.
Daniel’s eyes widened with understanding. “Who is about to become unemployed,” he ground out.
“Now, dear, don’t be hasty. Mr. Peabody has been a good secretary, and you hardly pay him a living wage,” she warned.
“He only has to see to my calendar and copy contracts—”
“Do your correspondence, pay your invoices, and run your errands for you. Act as a courier,” she went on. “You must admit he has beautiful penmanship. I should hire him to do my correspondence,” she added.
“You’re welcome to him,” Daniel said, his manner rather grumpy.
Madeline stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. “Who is she?”
Daniel poured a dollop of milk into his tea and sighed. “I was hoping you might know.”
His mother straightened in her chair, blinking several times as she regarded him in disbelief. “A woman waltzed into your office—”
“She walked in, Mother. Arthur escorted her,” he corrected.
“—and kissed you, and you don’t know who she was?”
He cleared his throat. “I... I didn’t recognize her,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “She obviously knew me, though. Knew Watson, too, because when I accused her of being paid by him—”
“You what?” she interrupted.
He immediately regretted his words. “I thought Watson was playing a trick on me. I thought he hired an actress as a sort of prank,” he explained.
“Well, that wasn’t very smart of you. Everyone knows Watson hasn’t a shilling to his name most days,” she countered.
“I was reminded of that by the young woman,” he murmured. “Which means she knows him,” he said thoughtfully. “But I’m still left wondering who she was.”
Madeline angled her head to one side. “How old is she?”
He shrugged. “Uh... not a matron. Not fresh out of the schoolroom, either. Mayhap... seven-and-twenty?” he guessed.
“Was she dressed well?”
Daniel winced. “If you can call examples of the current fashion ‘dressing well’, then yes, I suppose,” he hedged.
“Big sleeves, bell skirt, jonquil muslin, white shawl... with lace edging,” he said, knowing she would press him for the details if he didn’t give them up front. “Straw hat, silk flowers on the brim.”
She grinned in delight. “You should write for The Scotsman’s society page,” she teased, referring to Edinburgh’s weekly newspaper. “As you said, she has obviously met Mr. Watson. What else do you remember about her?”
Frowning, Daniel closed his eyes in an attempt to recall any other details about the woman who had haunted his dreams the night before. The memory of her brought back the new sensations of kissing and his body’s reaction to what she had done with her gloved hand.
The tart.
He had been so hard when he awoke in the middle of the night, he had been forced to take his member in hand, shocked that it took only a few seconds for the blessed release that finally allowed him to return to slumber—and more dreams about her.
“Lemons,” he murmured. “She smelled of lemons.”
Madeline sipped her tea before saying, “Most do these days, dear. It’s a popular scent for soaps and such.”
“From Derbyshire,” he added.
Her eyes widening at hearing this last, his mother grinned. “So... someone you knew from Brookshire Hall,” she guessed, referring to her parents’ estate. “We spent all our summers there when your father was off on all those building projects,” she added.
Daniel nodded. At the time, he had hated what his father did for his living, acting as a contractor for the various canal projects that allowed for goods to be shipped by water rather than by land.
The jobs required he be gone for months at a time—the same months Daniel wasn’t off at Repton School—but his father had taught him a good deal about construction when he was home.
Although Daniel could have easily worked in a building trade, he had opted for the other side of the business—designing the projects.
“A neighbor’s daughter, perhaps?”
He shook his head. “Surely I would recognize her,” he reasoned. “Not that I recall playing with any girls.”
She tittered softly. “Oh, but you did. You attracted them like bees to honey. Still do, I’m quite sure, you handsome beast.”
“Mother,” he scolded, knowing what she was really thinking.
“I’m not going to court anyone, at least, not until I’ve saved enough to build a house on the outer edge of New Town.
” He had already designed the villa, a two-story Gothic Revival structure with gardens on three sides and a carriage house and drive on the other.
He had purchased the land as soon as he had enough blunt to do so, knowing it would continue to go up in price as Edinburgh expanded northward.
“I know, dear. Now, some girls grow up to appear much prettier than they were in their youth.” When he didn’t respond right away, she added, “Was she a servant’s daughter?”
He pretended to consider it, but thoughts of what it had been like to be kissed had him wishing the woman would make another appearance.
Not at his office, though. Somewhere private.
Somewhere they wouldn’t be seen. The botanic gardens in Inverleith Park, perhaps.
Or maybe in one of those tiny squares in Old Town.
Perhaps she would accept his apology for having forgotten her, and he could prove his sincerity by kissing her. Or allowing her to kiss him.
“Did you say jonquil?” Madeline asked suddenly.
Pulled from his reverie, Daniel nodded. “Uh, yes. The color of her gown.” The color of daffodils and lemons and the sun, if he could ever actually look at it when it was high in the sky.
Madeline’s expression of surprise slowly transformed into one of delight. “Oh, Daniel. How could you not recognize Isabella?”
Daniel blinked. And blinked again. “Isabella?” he repeated.
She made a ‘tsking’ sound and leaned back in her chair, her face displaying a look of self-satisfaction, as if she had solved the world’s greatest mystery.
“Isabella Farnsworth. Her father owned the mercantile in Tideswell,” she stated, referring to the town nearest Brookshire Hall.
“Still does, I think. Her mother...” Here Madeline furrowed her brows and sighed sadly.
“Well, it’s a wonder Isabella survived childbirth given Mrs. Farnsworth’s poor health.
It was no surprise she died giving birth to the boy. ”
His tea forgotten, Daniel stared at his mother. “Was his name Charlie? The boy who always looked as if he’d rolled in the dirt?”
Madeline allowed a wan grin. “As did Isabella. You probably didn’t even know she was a girl,” she teased.
“I’m afraid Mr. Farnsworth wasn’t the best at raising his children on his own,” she went on.
She watched as her son seemed to struggle with his memories.
“They were frequently on the grounds of Brookshire Hall when you were there for the summers,” she explained.
“You used to play in the gardens. Hide and seek. Pall mall when you were older,” she continued.
“She wore a yellow gown, although it was always filthy, as I recall. You would have thought a father in the mercantile business would have done better at clothing his children, but...” She allowed the sentence to trail off.
“Izzy. She smelled of lemons,” Daniel murmured.
Madeline sipped her tea, a lip quirking at seeing her son so perplexed. “And honeysuckle?” she prompted.
Daniel’s eyes rounded. “How did you know?”
“The garden was filled with them,” she replied.
“They were always full of bees,” he whispered.
“The birds would eat the berries,” she offered, angling her head as she watched him remember his summers as a youth.
He nodded absently and finally straightened in his chair. “Well, that mystery is solved, I suppose,” he said, although his expression suggested he was still vexed.
Madeline leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it?”
He shrugged. “Nothing to do,” he responded. When he noticed his mother’s look of disappointment, he added, “It’s not as if she left a calling card, Mother.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Blinking, he settled back in his chair and took a sip of tea as a means to delay his response.
Had the woman given Arthur Peabody her card before she was escorted into the office? If so, Peabody hadn’t offered it after she had taken her leave.
“Mayhap she gave a calling card to Peabody,” his mother suggested.
The thought that Peabody might know her identity rankled. Daniel was also reminded that only Peabody knew of her visit, which meant he was the one who had been sharing the information as gossip, who knew to how many people?
The fact that his mother’s neighbor had been told was probably only a coincidence. Which meant far more people had already heard what had happened in his office, and the gossip was spreading like wildfire.
The details were probably changing with every exchange of the story, too. Her kissing him had probably become him kissing her, which meant his reputation as a perfect gentleman was at risk. His business might even suffer as a result.
Isabella Farnsworth, what have you done? he wondered in dismay.
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” his mother said, interrupting his reverie.
Daniel shook his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m due to meet Watson. We’re going to try that new pub on the George the Fourth Bridge.”
“Ah, perhaps he’ll have some answers for you,” she replied.
“Perhaps,” he agreed.