In the months following his sister Caroline’s marriage to Earl Newhall, and her subsequent departure for Derbyshire, Francis had become Adelaide’s pet project.
“Your mother will be disappointed,” said Charles.
I know, but I can’t spend four weeks in Scotland with her while she is on this matchmaking crusade. I shall go mad. Besides I have far too much work to do.
He shot his father a pleading look and was nearly overwhelmed with gratitude when Charles slowly nodded in response. Thank God someone else in this house understands my predicament.
“I shall speak to your mother and let her know that you have pressing obligations at the shipping office, which will give you a few days in which to prepare to give her the bad news. When you do speak her, you had better make it clear that you are saddened not to be able to undertake the journey to Scotland this year.”
Thank you, Papa. Thank you. Thank you.
Charles paused, and Francis instantly ceased his silent gratitude.
“But in return for me helping you to delay your announcement, you have to do something.”
Francis gritted his teeth, fearing what might come next. His father had been the one to build the family company up from nothing. Charles Saunders’s skills at being able to secure contracts and form strong alliances with business associates was the stuff of legends. He was a first-rate negotiator, one whom Francis hoped he would one day be able to emulate. Charles drove a hard bargain with everyone—including his children.
“What is it that you demand of me?” replied Francis.
He stifled a grin when Charles, mimicking his own action of a moment or two ago, picked up his coffee cup and took a slow, considered sip. Like father, like son—he was taking his time. Making his opponent wait.
Francis’s heart sank. Charles always won the cup game.
If I could just be half the businessman that you are—no. I want to be better. I have to be better. No one will take me seriously unless I am a success.
“Not demanding—just asking. In return for helping to smooth things over with your mother, I would like you to attend some parties and balls in the early part of the new year. Son, you need to have more in your life than just the company. The shipping business might eventually fill your coffers with gold, but it will not keep you warm at night. And it most certainly will never bring you the sort of joy that finding love will,” said Charles.
Francis was cornered, with little room to maneuver. If he wanted his father to help him navigate this next phase of his life, he was going to have to agree to some concessions. But he was determined that they would be on his terms.
I can attend the odd ball or two. Papa hasn’t stipulated that I have to remain long at any of them.
He knew plenty of other bachelors in London high society who were masters of the art of making an appearance at a social function and then quietly disappearing out a side door. It wouldn’t take too much effort for him to join their ranks. Love wasn’t something Francis considered important right now.
“Alright, you win. I shall do as you ask. I promise. Commencing in January, I shall attend at least one ball a week,” replied Francis.
“And a dinner party or a supper. Come now, Francis, you need to try. If not, then how else do you expect to ever find yourself a wife?”
Oh, not you as well, Papa. I am not on the hunt for a wife. Marriage isn’t in my plans.
Not for the foreseeable future at least. He was only two and twenty; he had time. A wife and family would no doubt eventually happen, but not until after he had made his mark amongst London’s business elite.
The sound of servants moving about in the hall signaled the impending arrival of Lady Adelaide Saunders. Francis quickly downed the last of his tea and got to his feet. He had won, while also making some concessions this morning. It was enough. But if his mother got wind of him cancelling the annual trip to Scotland for Christmas, he wouldn’t ever get out of the house.
“We have an accord. Please give Mama my apologies; I have to leave for the office. I shall see you a little later this morning.”
Francis was out of the breakfast room and headed for the stairs at breakneck speed, his father’s hearty laugh in his wake. After swiftly collecting his hat and coat from a waiting footman, he was out the door to the rear mews in less than a minute. He hastened toward the waiting carriage at a fast trot. He would do anything to avoid his mother.
Adelaide would no doubt be disappointed to have missed her youngest son this morning, but Francis knew full well that if she did get hold of him, she would make him sit and chat while she ate her breakfast. And no matter how clever a negotiator his father was, even Charles wouldn’t have been able to save him.
As soon as he was on board the carriage and the door was closed, Francis rapped hard on the roof. “Coutts Bank, The Strand, and please make haste. I have a busy day ahead.”
He had a meeting with his banker. Time was money. And he didn’t have either to spare.
Chapter Three
The superintendent’s office at London Docks was a hive of activity. As soon as she arrived, Poppy was directed to the end of a long queue of people all waiting to speak to a clerk. The docks might well have been a modern construction, but the bureaucratic wheels of customs and excise still turned slowly.
Poppy’s private dreams of marching straight up to the front desk, presenting her papers, and being graciously handed the key to warehouse number fourteen evaporated in a puff of disappointment.
