Chapter 17
Seventeen
Awreath hung on the door to Benjamin and Florence’s rooms—a circle of sage and holly with peculiar little crystals weaved through the branches. Harry had never seen anything quite like it, but Florence, an adventurer with an artistic soul, had interesting tastes.
Their family rooms were in the Grand Victoria, the hotel that Benjamin and Florence had established upon their return from their trip around the world.
They were modest accommodations, especially compared to the majestic grandeur of the rest of the hotel, but it was cozy.
They spent most of their time in the social rooms mingling with guests anyway.
Harry was shown to the drawing room by Mrs. Sullivan, their maid-of-all-work.
The decor drew his eye in multiple directions.
Florence didn’t know simple. It was an evolving space with new paintings, new ornaments, and new wallpaper changing with each visit.
This time the walls were covered in a pale tangerine with an intricate design.
Harry leaned into the wall to discern foxes entwined with vines and other flora.
Florence was the first one to enter the room.
“Harry,” she said, careful not to encroach too quickly on his space.
She understood his shyness. Not that she was shy herself, but her ability to read people and anticipate their needs had allowed him to quickly warm up to her company.
She didn’t rattle him the same way Agnes had, but Florence was beautiful in her own right.
Her tawny brown hair, thick and wavy, was pulled into a simple chignon, always slightly off-centered. Her sage-green eyes nearly glowed with golden undertones, and the freckles splattered across her cheeks had a sparkle of their own.
According to stories, Benjamin had fallen in love with her the moment he had seen her, marrying when he was twenty and she nineteen.
Now, thirteen years later, it was still just the two of them.
Harry sometimes wondered if that was by design, but it was not his place to broach the subject.
Regardless, they were wonderful in their role as aunt and uncle, even if Harry was still the favorite.
Benjamin joined them a moment later. “Tea will be here shortly, Harry, and don’t worry, Mrs. Sullivan knows to put enough cakes on the tray to feed four additional grown men.”
“Actually, I’ve brought some chocolates, but I won’t say no to any of Mrs. Sullivan’s treats.” He presented the box adorned with the signature purple ribbon.
He stopped by the confectionary shop whenever he visited York.
The chocolates were truly irresistible, but really, he always hoped that Nora would share another tiny detail about Agnes.
And she often did, casually working in praise for her friend that Harry would memorize and add to his journal as soon as he returned to London.
“Oh, these are from Nora’s Confections and Dreams. No shop here comes close to rivaling her chocolates. She works magic with her flavors.”
“You’re familiar?” Harry was surprised. His brother and Florence had met in York, but Harry didn’t expect that they still had connections in the city. They were always busy managing the Grand Victoria.
“Yes. I know the owner. A mutual friend introduced us several years ago.”
“A mutual friend?” If Florence knew Nora, did that mean she knew Agnes as well? The temptation to speak of Agnes at every opportunity was difficult to resist. Though he would raise suspicion if he asked whether Florence knew the widow outright.
Florence gave Benjamin a look. Harry knew it held meaning between them, but he did not understand.
“Oh. Just an elderly woman. I would visit her whenever I traveled through York, but Nora was a regular student of hers. The woman has since passed on. So sad. She was a force. Have you and Nora become acquainted?”
She hid a question under her words, although not well. It was painfully obvious what she meant.
“No more acquainted than a loyal customer.”
Benjamin was less discreet. “So is this the sweetheart that you don’t have?”
“No, she’s married.”
“Harry! You dog!”
Florence swatted her husband on the arm. “I am certain that neither Harry nor Nora would dally if she had a husband. I did not know she married, but you seem to have an interest in her?”
Harry sighed. Florence’s intuition was needle-sharp, and he was incapable of skirting around issues without looking guilty. He had built his career on direct communication.
“If I tell you, I would request that you keep the conversation between us.”
“Harry, my brother. We all know how to keep a secret.”
That was absolutely not true, especially among his brothers. Telling one brother was no different than telling all four, plus their wives, and Papa, and sometimes, his nieces and Mrs. Sampson too.
His only hope was that Florence, who could be trusted, would pressure his brother into silence. Surely, she had some charms that could force compliance.
“There is a woman.”
“Oh, Harry. That is lovely,” Florence fawned. “Tell us more. She must be infatuated with such a great man like you.” Although Florence was three years younger than him, she still treated him as if he were a little brother in constant need of praise and encouragement. He didn’t mind it.
“I cannot court her yet. She is still in mourning.”
Benjamin gave him a sly smile. “I always thought those black clothes attracted more attention than color. Something about a woman in black just looks so—” Florence hit his arm again. “What!? You looked good in black too. I’m not just talking about other women.”
Harry continued. “She is quite recently widowed, and her late husband was one of my employers, Lord Skelton.”
“Agnes?! My goodness, Harry, she is a marvelous woman, a great beauty too. She is a bit quiet, but she would be your perfect partner. I see how you get along.”
He listened intently to Florence’s description of Agnes, although it didn’t quite fit with what he knew of her now.
It was possible that she had changed in her years married to Richard or that it was a more recent change in the face of an impossible situation.
There was a peacefulness that surrounded her, but when necessary, Agnes readied for battle like the fiercest knight.
He had seen it in their last meeting with Skelton.
“Yes. It’s Agnes.”
“Oh. She’s Agnes to you, not Lady Skelton. Noted.” Benjamin appeared quite proud for catching the slip of Harry’s tongue.
An aggressive blush heated Harry’s face. He was tempted to undo his cravat and top button. He couldn’t deny it. She was Agnes. Lady Skelton sounded like a stranger to him now.
Benjamin continued, “So what advice do you need? I may be your baby brother, but I’ve got experience in wooing a woman, don’t I, Flo?” She rolled her eyes.
Harry decided since he was here and his secret was already out, he might as well take the opportunity to learn something new.
Even his younger brothers gave good advice sometimes, although Bert’s advice was usually less reliable.
He would ask about kissing later but sort out the more pressing problem now.
“I need to help her. The Skelton heir has been given nearly everything in the will. She will have to start over in York, as she does not want to move to the dower house in the country. I don’t know what assistance to offer other than sorting out her finances.
Whenever I am around her, I just wish I could court her and provide her with everything she needs and everything she wants. ”
“Then court her, Harry.” Harry’s mind blundered at his brother’s words. He couldn’t court her. Why can’t I court her?
He remembered. “But she is a widow.”
Benjamin laughed. “Nonsense. Then court her secretly. You don’t need to take her out to Hyde Park or Covent Garden. Besides, no good comes from prying eyes when you’re trying to make a woman swoon.”
“I’ll ruin her reputation.”
“Did I not just tell you to court her in private? Harry, seriously. This woman has your brain in all sorts of a mess. To think we call you the smart one.”
“But her butler won’t allow it.”
His brother laughed louder. The sound bounced around the fox-adorned walls.
“Now you’re just pulling my leg. If this woman allows her butler to stop your seduction, then I’m sorry, brother, she’s just not that interested.”
Harry huffed, dismissing the words. Agnes had been the one to kiss him and then asked him to kiss her in return. She was the one who had taken all the risks, and here he was making flimsy excuses for why he couldn’t take the next step.
Would she be interested in a courtship, albeit a private one? Her attraction to him was evident, but what were her intentions? Many widows took lovers without the desire to remarry. He would need to muster the courage to ask her.
Florence put down her teacup. “Harry. What are you really worried about? I believe you are perceptive enough to know whether the feelings between the two of you are mutual.” She glared at Benjamin, keeping him silent with a pointed look. “So why are you hesitant?”
He placed his own cup down in the saucer, watching the rings form along the surface and then settle into nothing. He was overthinking, and he knew it.
“She knows who she is. She knows her purpose in life. I’m still figuring mine out. I’m just a man who crunches the numbers for other men to fulfill their purpose.”
“Maybe it’s her,” said Florence.
He gave his sister-in-law a quizzing look.
“Maybe she’s your purpose.”