“Of course, I will not.” She didn’t understand. Why would she?
“I did well for myself in India. In addition to that, my uncle left me his fortune. We can not only afford to buy this house, but as many country properties as you wish.”
She couldn’t breathe. “Just how rich are you?”
“Let’s just say, I am one of the wealthiest men in England.”
That was horrible! Her heart dropped to her toes. “How can you wish to marry an old spinster like me? You must know that you could have almost any lady you wished. One who could give you children.”
“Remember your promise. I told you the truth when I said I’d never found the equal of you. If need be, I have plenty of nieces and nephews to leave my property to.” He punctuated his statement with a kiss. “I love you, Jane.”
Tears started in her eyes as her heart swelled to at least twice its size. “I love you, Hector. I always have.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The pounding on the door finally penetrated Edgar’s foggy head.
“Sir, sir, you want me ta’tell you what I seen?” Jem’s high, penetrating voice speared through Edgar’s temples. Once he had the money, he’d find a better quality brandy.
He rubbed his eyes and pulled on his dressing gown before opening the door. “You’re early.” He waved the boy in and sat in a chair. “Go on.”
“Last night there was a bunch of rum morts and swells. They had three rattlers. I waited like you told me and later, they all come back. One rattler stayed on the street like. Then there’s an old mort and a swell left, and two morts went across the street with a fart catcher.”
Molton shook his head trying to clear it and keep up with the cant. “What you’re telling me is that there were two men and several women who went off in coaches. The older couple kept their coach waiting and two ladies with their footman walked across the street?”
“That’s what I jus telled ye,” Jem said, disgustedly. “Then the last rum mort holds up her neb and it was all honeymoon with them.”
“The last lady let the gentleman kiss her?”
“Don’t know why ye keep repeatin’ everthin’.”
Edgar scrubbed a hand over his face and wished he’d had a cup of coffee before listening to this. At least his head didn’t ache as badly as he’d thought it would. “Then what happened?”
“The swell left and went across the street.”
Molton leaned back and frowned. “I don’t know how interesting that is.”
Jem jigged before him. “But it ain’t all. I finds me a place next to the house to sleep and this mornin’ the same swell that smacked the rum mort last night, had her ready to shag her.”
Molton bolted up. “What’s that you say? They were going to copulate?”
Jem frowned. “Don’t know what that means, but his hand was under her skirt and . . .”
“Yes, yes, good job. Here”—he tossed the coin to the boy—“you’ve earned your other half bean. Keep watching the house and there’s more for you.” Getting money from his niece, assuming it was her, and possibly her lover, was going to be easier than Edgar had thought.
* * *
Matt entered the warehouse, took out his quizzing glass, and surveyed the rows upon rows of fabric set on racks against the walls and laid out on tables. There was everything from silks and satins to brocades and velvets. This was not what he’d expected. “How on earth do you expect to find anything in here?”
Glancing up at him, Grace took his arm. “The clerks will help.”
A short, slender man with spectacles appeared out of nowhere and gushed, “My lady, so good to see you again.”
“Mr. Quimby, thank you.” Grace smiled politely. “Here is my list. You will see the colors and types of materials listed with the amounts.”
Worthington stared at the sheets of paper she handed to the clerk. How much fabric were they buying? And how much was all this going to cost him? Not that he couldn’t afford it. Had Grace ever practiced economy? He prayed that she was not like Patience, always having to be reined in.
“Is there anything wrong with the materials you bought last year?” Mr. Quimby asked, concerned.
