He loves me.
He’s not rich.
His father took away what ought to have been his, too.
Those ideas seemed ridiculous, and both at once… she pressed a hand over her mouth, smothering a gurgle of laughter.
Henry bit his lip, eyeing her nervously.
“If this is too much, Eleanor, tell me at once, and I’ll never speak of it again. I swear it.”
“I want you to speak about it again,” Eleanor gasped, more laughter bubbling up. “I want us to run the business together, money or no money. I love you too, you stupid man. I love you!”
Before Henry could respond, she lurched forward and kissed him, to the absolute horror of the people gathered around them.
When she released him, Henry looked like a rabbit cornered by a cat.
“Sorry,” she said, a little subdued. “That was… that was improper. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Henry bit his lip, glancing around.
“We could always blame it on being light-headed. We did just inhale a lot of smoke, after all.”
She broke out in a smile. “I can’t work out whether I’m thrilled because I’m alive and you love me, or whether I’m just delirious from the smoke.”
Henry considered. “It could be both. And for what it’s worth, I intend for us to share the business. I always did. I’ll sign documents proving it before we’re married, if you like.”
She smiled, giddy as a child. “With the two of us working together, London had better watch out.”
Epilogue
One Month Later
Henry eyed the letter uneasily. It had his name on the envelope, in a sickeningly familiar, swooping hand.
Had he ever received a letter from his father? No, he didn’t think so. Odd to receive one now, when the man was dead.
The day’s newspaper lay beside the letter. The man with patched coattails had been caught after all. Hehadstarted the fire, right in the corner of Charles’ office.
The Fairfax buildings were mostly destroyed, but once the evidence of foul play came to light, it was likely they would receive compensation of some sort.
The man with patched coattails – Henry couldnotremember his name – had quickly told the whole story. He was a well-known criminal, and was hired to commit crimes, arson included.
He had been hired by none other than Mr. Richard Grenville.
Henry couldn’t say he had much interest in the proceedings. Richard was in jail, awaiting trial, and the Grenville pottery had gone under. In fact, the ever-expanding Fairfax business had taken on a great many of the Grenville workers.
The clock chimed out half past nine, jolting Henry out of his reverie. He was getting married at ten o’ clock. If he was going to read the letter, he had better read it now. Sighing, he broke the seal and tore open the envelope, deciphering his father’s harsh, spiky writing.
To my Second Son, Henry
I have written this letter to be opened and read on the event of your marriage. As you will know by now, the terms of my will are quite clear. To receive your sizeable inheritance, you must marry within one year of the will reading.
No doubt a great many complaints have been aired. You have always impressed me, Henry, with your streak of stubbornness and your love of traveling. I could never allow William to travel, naturally, as my heir. He requires a great deal more training.
But you have grown into a well-rounded man. I think perhaps you will do well in life.
This letter, I suppose, is one of congratulations. I expect you will do well with or without my money, due to your keen business acumen. I am, of course, dead by the time you read this, and so will not see what sort of life you lead. Marriage is, in my opinion, a necessity for all men and women, which is why I have made it necessary for my children. I hope the woman you have chosen is a clever one, as a silly girl will never make you happy. Your wife must match you in every way. She must be your equal intellectually, at the very least. So, no simpering ladies or debutantes, if you please.
