This would never do. It wasn’t a social call, after all. “It is not necessary to ‘my lord’ me all the time. Just stick it in every once in a while.”
Smithwick nodded.
He was probably afraid to speak now. “Tell you what, get some of those ledgers and come in here. You’ll need to explain the business to me.”
“Me, sir?” Smithwick said uneasily.
Will raised his quizzing glass, glanced around the office, then back to his clerk. “For a moment I thought we’d been joined by someone else.” My God, the man looked as if Will was going to flog him. “The thing is, I know about running an estate and farming. I know nothing about this type of business. Now, unless you have a roof that needs to be repaired, or need advice on how to increase a herd of cattle . . .” A hopeful thought occurred to him. “You don’t, do you?”
The scared look turned into a dubious one. Perhaps Smithwick thought Will was mad. Which might not be far from the truth.
“No, my lord.”
“As I thought.” After all, how much more difficult could this be? “Bring the books.”
At the end of an hour, Will was ready to jump out the window and had a suspicion his clerk would be happy to join him. He started searching through the desk drawers. “Is there any brandy in this place?”
“No, my lord, we have rum.”
“That will work. Pour one for me and for yourself.”
Smithwick returned with two half-full glasses, placing them on the table.
Will took one and raised it. “To farming.”
He needed to find a new manager and fast. Perhaps he could discover a way to convince Andrew he wanted to help.
Cicely stood at the window of her mother’s small parlor, which abutted her parents’ bedchamber. A few minutes before the hour, Mr. Grayson came into her view on his way up the Ninety-Nine Steps. If only he’d look her way. As if he’d heard her thoughts, he glanced at her, smiled, and waved. Happiness surged through her, almost as if she’d been given the Christmas present she’d wanted most. She wiggled her fingers at him and waited until he was no longer in sight. She’d known from the first time they’d met there was a connection between them.
After he’d left last evening, Papa and Mama had spoken well of him and his family. Mama even admitted Cicely was correct as to who he was, but still wasn’t convinced Mr. Grayson would make an offer or, should he do so, that Cicely should accept.
She turned from the window and after taking a breath and smoothing her skirts went into the drawing room, where their butler would bring Andrew. A few moments later, Mama joined her, but there was still no sign of him. After what seemed an hour, but could only have been half that, he finally entered the room with Papa.
“Mrs. Whitecliff, thank you for inviting me.” Andrew bowed to Mama before turning to Cicely. “Miss Whitecliff.” Mr. Grayson took her hand again and kissed it. “You are lovelier each time I see you.”
Her heart suddenly seemed to beat much faster, and it was hard to catch her breath. This was probably the closest she’d ever come to swooning. “Thank you. You are very handsome.”
He flushed under his tan, as though he wasn’t used to compliments. Or perhaps she wasn’t supposed to have commented on his appearance. Her mind was in such a jumble she couldn’t remember. Oh dear, now what?
“Shall we repair to the dining room?” Mama said as she rose, thus rescuing Cicely from her dilemma.
Andrew took her hand and placed it on his arm. His voice was a faint whisper. “I’m glad to see you again.”
“As I am you.” Her fingers warmed as his touch lingered just a moment too long. He was definitely the gentleman she’d been waiting for. “What did Papa wish to discuss?”
Before Andrew could answer, Mama said, “Cicely, please ring the bell.”
She had no choice but to leave Andrew and step across the room to the bell-pull. She had the distinct feeling her mother had said that for the sole purpose of separating her from Andrew. Had Papa warned Mr. Grayson away? Yet that didn’t make any sense. Perhaps Mama was just being difficult. Which was the reason Cicely had not been allowed to travel to London last winter in preparation for her come out.
During luncheon, Cicely, Andrew, and her father discussed shipping, with Mama interjecting the occasional astute comment. Finally, to Cicely’s amazement, Papa suggested she show Andrew the garden. She couldn’t believe they were finally going to be allowed to be alone. Granted, it was broad daylight, with all the servants within calling distance. Still, she and Andrew would be allowed to speak freely, without her mother’s close scrutiny.
“Come this way.” Cicely placed her hand on his arm and led him through her mother’s parlor to the stairs. She could have skipped with joy
Once outside, he glanced around. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
For the life of her she couldn’t think what he meant. “Like what?”
“Your house. Are there no inside stairs?”
