“Except for one, which I am off to shortly. I will see you for luncheon in a bit.” Rose turned her attention back to the letter to Sophie.
Cecily stood, then paused at the door. “Are you truly going to bring Albert’s bat?”
“It’s already in there, propped next to my chair.”
“I’m a little surprised you have not created a dozen scandals by now.”
Rose paused, glancing at her sister.Surviving one was plenty, thank you.“You would be amazed what one can get away with as an on-the-shelf wallflower. Now, scoot. You have to prepare for a life of the belle of the ball.”
“Lucky me.”
Indeed.Rose looked at the closed door and released a long sigh. Then she pulled out yet another piece of paper and flipped open the top on the ink. Time for her report on the Higginbotham Ball for the gossip sheets—her favorite part of the morning after. Two of the most popular relied on her information to fill in gaps they were missing in their own information. It had been Rose who had broken the news of two of the most recent scandals to rock Polite Society.
“It’s not all about the balls and champagne,” she muttered and set her quill to work.
*
“You bought ashipping company.” Thomas dropped into the chair in front of his father’s desk. He crossed his ankle over his knee and propped his cane against the arm of the chair.
Philip barely glanced up. “I did.”
“Why?”
Philip continued to focus on the ledgers in front of him. “Because we own two textile mills in Manchester, farming estates in Wales, and part ownership of three plantations in the West Indies, and finding ships that no longer work in the Triangular Trade is becoming increasing difficult—and costly. Paying someone else to ship cotton from Egypt and the islands, then turning around and paying the same people to send manufactured products back around the world also seemed a waste of money. If we can build the company to also offer those services to other businesses, it will not only save us money, it could make a tidy profit.”
Thomas took note of thewein his father’s explanation. Perhaps itwastime, after all.
He waited for his father to finish his notations, and in the silence that followed Thomas looked over the stacks of letters and ledgers on Philip’s desk, along with the shelves of books on business philosophies, histories, law, and—of all things—a few popular novels that dotted nearby tables, most of them lying open and face down, as if partially read. Thomas suddenly wondered if his mother spent much time in here. It wouldn’t surprise him—his parents had always sought out times to be together—but it wasn’t her perfume that lingered. The scent that clung to the heavy drapes and comfortably stuffed chairs leaned more toward tobacco, leather, and aged whisky.
Philip put down his quill and looked over his eldest son. “So why have you decided to visit me this morning?”
Thomas hesitated, well aware of how startling his statement would be. “Because I think you are right. It’s time I learn more about what it takes to be a duke. I want to learn more about running the family estate, all of it, even if I don’t meet your requirements by the end of the year. I remember some of what you tried to teach me years ago, but not enough of the details. What I do remember is admiring you for all you had to keep balanced, and being more than a bit fascinated by the intricacies of the various businesses and property holdings.”
Philip leaned back in his chair and studied Thomas long enough that he developed the urge to squirm as if he were ten again and caught in a lie. “And this puffery is not just to curry favor toward our goals.”
Thomas straightened. “Perhaps a little.”
Philip’s burst of laughter was a relief for both of them. He leaned forward. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
Thomas spread his arms wide. “I have no plans until five this afternoon.” Rose’s note remained tucked neatly in his inner coat pocket. He was grateful she would receive him, but her words raised as many questions as they had answered. Questions he probably shouldn’t ask but planned to anyway. The impish poppet from his childhood memories had turned into a remarkable woman of strength, and Thomas’s curiosity had been stirred into a whirlwind.
“Where are your brothers?”
“Robert is paying calls. He actually found two ladies in the park this morning that he charmed into allowing him to visit. Michael is, I think, still in the stables discussing the health of one of our matched teams with the grooms.”
Philip rubbed his temple. “How do you think he is doing? Truly.”
Thomas put his foot on the floor and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “As well as can be expected, I think. But still shaky.” Thomas paused, glancing to his left and out the window of the office. “I don’t think any of us realized how far he had descended into that particular hell.”
Philip took a ragged breath. “I would have to agree. I did not, certainly, until the nighttime screaming started. At least he seems to be past that stage.”
Thomas did not want to share his next statement with Philip. Michael had told him in a moment of weakness this morning, when the landau had stopped long enough for Robert to flirt. But he felt his father had a right to know what they faced. “Michael told me this morning that he has not been sober for almost four years.”
Philip’s eyes widened. “Not at all?”
He shook his head. “Not a day. Not since Miss Carlson took his money and left him stranded at the anvil in Gretna Green. He said he was still getting used to the way thegroundfelt beneath his feet.”
A touch of color left Philip’s face. “So we almost lost him.”
