Chapter 13 #3
“We absolutely can,” Kettlewell interrupted the voice of Phineas Nelson, already swinging the study door open. He beheld Roman, looked at the room, and made his assessment in approximately one second. “Yes. This will do.”
He came in and sat on the edge of the desk.
Roman looked up at him, and turned to see who else had invaded his territory.
Lyness had appeared in the doorway with a crooked, unrepentant grin which told Roman everything he needed to know about what would unfold.
His younger brother had organized something and was prepared to accept only partial responsibility for how it unfolded.
Phineas Nelson peered over Lyness’s shoulder with his hat still on, his brother Thaddeus a step behind him, and Christopher Holly last, ushering them in so he could close the door, adjusting the lapels of his coat and brushing off his sleeves with the air of one having completed an important feat.
His closest confidants and friends were invading his study and contemplation.
Holly raised his eyebrows. “Welcome to the inevitable, Roman.”
“Lyness.” Roman greeted his brother, voice flat. “What is this?”
“Roman,” Lyness answered, tone much pleasanter. “We were in the neighborhood.”
“You live here. The rest of them...” He looked around at his friends.
Phineas and Thaddeus were the sons of Mr. Victor Nelson, a gentleman of modest means with an estate outside the city walls. Though Thaddeus was the eldest son, Phineas was the more outgoing and came first in Roman’s mind when he thought of the two of them together.
Archibald Kettlewell had been the most outspoken of the group for as long as Roman could remember, and it was often his loudly stated opinions that proved troublesome for the rest of them when they were out together. Still, the man had a good heart and loyalty to those he counted as friends.
“Remarkably convenient that they were with me then, is it not?” Lyness helped himself to the chair nearest the fire with the ease of a man in his own home. “Kettlewell, come now, you are distressing my brother.”
“I’m comfortable,” Kettlewell said.
Roman looked at Kettlewell on his desk; the papers displaced beneath him, and Apollo, who had decided the situation was benign and put his head back down.
Athena had gone directly to Phineas, already crouching to greet her with his usual enthusiasm.
The man who liked dogs more than he liked most people.
“There is perfectly adequate seating, Kettlewell.” Roman put his paper away, patiently reconsidering his entire evening.
“Indeed, I had noticed,” Kettlewell agreed, without moving.
Phineas straightened up, Athena thoroughly greeted. “Congratulations, by the way. Miss Mayweather. An excellent choice for a wife, by all accounts.” He said it with the simple warmth of someone who meant it and hadn’t thought to frame it any other way.
The sincerity took Roman aback. “Thank you.”
Thaddeus, who had taken the chair nearest the window without making a fuss of it, looked at Roman steadily. “Congratulations,” he echoed his brother, his single word just as sincere.
“Thank you, Thaddeus.”
Holly had found himself a position near the bookcase, apart from the others, a glass of Roman’s brandy somehow in hand that Roman had not poured nor noticed him pouring for himself.
The solicitor said nothing. He was watching Roman with an attention that he had learned, over years of friendship, meant Holly was enjoying himself.
“Holly,” Roman said.
“Hartwell.” Holly smiled. Yes, he was amused.
“You were there from the beginning,” Roman pointed out. “At Sycamore Lodge.”
“I was.”
“You knew this was coming before I had even asked her.”
“I did.”
The others looked between them, and then at Holly without surprise.
Indeed, Kettlewell grumbled. “He is a soothsayer! The man always knows what we will do before we do it. It is most irritating.”
Roman waited for more. Holly offered nothing, and took a small sip of brandy. “And? Have you nothing more to say on the matter of my engagement? I would think, given that you helped to draw up the marriage agreement, you would have more to add to our friends’ good wishes.”
Holly considered this with every appearance of genuine deliberation.
“She asked good questions,” he said finally.
“About the accounts. About her family’s situation, and about yours.
” A pause. “I thought at the time she was wasted where she was. I think she will make an excellent baroness. Perhaps even an excellent wife, if you allow her to be such.”
Roman stared for a moment, the words turning in his mind. If he allowed her? That made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He looked away.
“Right,” said Kettlewell, still on the desk, apparently a permanent fixture. “Someone find me a drink. We are here to give Hartwell a difficult time before he becomes entirely respectable, and I for one intend to be thorough about it.”
“He is already entirely respectable.” Phineas shook his head. “You are the one we are concerned about.”
“Me?” Kettlewell feigned shock, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. “I am deeply respectable. Always have been. It is something of a burden, in all truth—which reminds me. Hartwell, did you actually propose in a gig?” He turned the topic swiftly away from himself and back to his victim.
“Lyness said you proposed out in a gig. On your first outing with Miss Mayweather.”
Roman looked at Lyness. His brother looked at the ceiling, tightening his lips over a grin.
What could he say but the truth? “It was practical.”
The men in the room immediately burst out laughing. Roman looked at his displaced papers, his commandeered brandy, and his brother examining the plasterwork with great interest, and felt, without quite accounting for it…contentment.
His friends would not be so genial if they withheld their support. As much as they made jests, they approved of his decision. Their good-natured ruckus meant he need not defend his choices to them, which gave him leave to relax.
“Kettlewell.” He stood and went to the decanter on the shelf. “Get off my desk.”
“In a moment.” Kettlewell, obviously in no hurry to move, heaved an enormous sigh. “By the by, I am thinking of settling down myself. Thought I should mention it, actually.”
Every head whirled round to him.
“You?” Lyness repeated. “Married?”
“Thought it was relevant to the conversation at hand.” Kettlewell shrugged, his smile turned crooked. “Given the theme of the evening.”
“It isn’t,” Thaddeus said.
Phineas raised one finger. “It might be, though we agreed to make Hartwell the center of attention. I vote we abstain from asking Kettlewell for details. That would be giving him what he wants.”
Lyness raised his hand. “Seconded.”
Athena lifted her head and huffed.
“Athena’s vote counts.” Thaddeus rose and went to pour a drink. “That settles it. No one ask Kettlewell a thing. Instead we will further torture Hartwell, who marries tomorrow! All in favor?”
A chorus of ‘ayes’ followed, and Roman glowered at his brother again. Then at his solicitor.
Holly said nothing, but the near-smile had become something more definite, and Roman, against his better judgment, felt the corner of his own mouth move upward too.