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Anthony Chapman gave a frown on hearing Whittiker’s name mentioned. Lately, he’d been getting caught up in his wife’s enthusiastic ambitions for the girls and hoped that James might soon be elbowed aside by a candidate worthy of Fiona’s hand. Maude was keen to keep the fellow in reserve in case no other man showed an interest in their eldest child; Anthony would sooner have the girl at home with him than see her saddled with such a weasel. Voicing that opinion was sure to result in a flare-up with his wife, so rather than sour things too soon while there was still hope of a positive outcome, he withdrew from the room with a nod for the ladies.
As Anthony strolled the corridors in the direction of his den, he pondered on the fact that now Whittiker had sold property to Blackthorne he would again have money in his pocket, if no freehold to call his own home. James had only a short lease on his London property. A proportion of the funds from the sale of his country seat would no doubt pay off urgent creditors to keep the duns at bay, but Anthony had heard on the grapevine that Whittiker had again been spending heavily.
He’d also heard that he’d been cosying up to Mrs Porter’s granddaughter now he was feeling flush. Anthony had believed the rumour as he’d seen the popinjay posturing close to the girl in Hyde Park. Whittiker obviously felt that now he had some ready cash he’d lure a plumper dowry than Fiona’s small inheritance. Mrs Porter had boasted that she intended to leave ten thousand to the girl. Most people believed she wasn’t embellishing the amount by much. Mr Porter had been a canny fellow and had amassed quite a fortune as a tea importer prior to his early demise.
Anthony smiled; it would suit him very well—and he guessed Fiona, too—if Whittiker started making his excuses so he could go and bother the Porters.
* * *
In the parlour a lively discussion was taking place regarding the imminent arrival of the dressmaker.
‘I will choose a cheap fabric, I promise,’ Bea whispered to Elise. ‘There are some very nice cottons.’
Elise’s rueful expression strengthened on hearing that. She knew that the modiste would carry very few samples of cottons and a great many of expensive silks and satins.
‘Please don’t be offended...but I have several pairs of gloves, and other bits and pieces that I rarely wear.’ Verity had come over to Elise and Beatrice to quietly make the offer. ‘You have no need to purchase new accessories if you’d rather not. You can borrow some of mine and very welcome.’
Having escaped her mother’s droning instructions on preparations for James Whittiker’s arrival, Fiona also approached. ‘I have a few shawls I don’t need. Mama insisted I had several when I had my début. They are still in the tissue paper, although some years old.’
Elise clasped a hand of each of her friends, gratitude in her smile, words unnecessary. She was not too proud to accept such well-meant generosity. She knew the offers had been made out of consideration rather than charity to ease the load on her father.
‘We are lucky to have such kind friends as you,’ Bea said emphatically.
‘We will stay in London a little while longer and are very happy to be invited, but two new gowns only?’ Elise’s fiercely enquiring look demanded an agreement from Bea. ‘If we must go about in the same frocks some evenings, then we must.’
Bea nodded excitedly. ‘I will choose blue for one and perhaps lemon for the second.’
Caught up in the excitement Elise blurted, ‘I think I might want lemon. We could have the same...or perhaps I’d sooner a darker shade.’
Maude had been hovering by the door, aware her daughters would have more success than would she in persuading their friends to stay. On hearing the girls’ excited chatter about fabrics she smiled in relief and slipped from the room to await Madame Joubet’s arrival.
* * *
‘To what do I owe this great honour?’
‘To the fact that I am a dutiful son,’ Alex drawled incling to give his mother a kiss on an olive-skinned cheek as she stabbed at her embroidery.
He would have straightened from his stooped position, but Susannah Blackthorne clasped him about the neck, hugging his abrasive jaw against her soft complexion. ‘You should come to see me more often, you know I miss you when you stay away too long.’ Her light Scottish accent always strengthened when she was annoyed with him.
‘I saw you at Vauxhall earlier in the week,’ Alex protested, removing her clasped fingers.
‘You saw me and gave me a wave, that’s all,’ Susannah complained, pushing away her tambour so she could get to her feet. ‘I was hoping you would talk to me, Alex. But perhaps your new friend doesn’t allow you out of her sight for too long, is that it?’
