Page 52 of Waiting for Love

Coming to London may have been the right thing to do, but perhaps bringing Hannah had not been. He should not have subjected her to London in February.

Hazard’s stonework townhouse was old and stately. Although not as enormous as the Taverston home at 8 Grosvenor Square, it had a substantial heft to it that was partly due to the weight of its history. The Viscounts of Haslet had a storied past, including an ancestor who had gone a-pirating with Sir Walter Raleigh. Hazard’s fortune had deep roots.

Benjamin lifted the brass knocker and let it fall. After a few moments, a surprisingly youthful butler opened the door. Benjamin gave him his card.

“Just a moment, sir. I will see if he is in.”

Benjamin stood on the freezing stoop, waiting for admittance. It was early afternoon. He had a sudden shiver of worry that he would not be welcome. But before he had time to suffer a true bout of insecurity, the door opened again.

“Come in, if you will, Mr. Carroll. His lordship is in the parlor. I’ll take you to him.”

Benjamin had never been inside Hazard’s home. The entrance hall was striking. Dark, carved-wood paneling covered the walls. Iron candlestands with the longest, fattest candles he’d even seen stood in the corners and in niches beside doorways that were framed by wide moldings. At least a dozen candles burned bright, odorless, and clear. Benjamin tried to guess whether the hallway was kept lit or whether it was the butler’s job to quickly light a few when callers arrived. The expense of such massive spermaceti wax candles, if routinely utilized for light and not simply for show, was one of those inconceivable extravagances that made Benjamin’s head hurt.

At the end of the entrance hall was a carpeted stairway. Halfway up the stairs, a landing led to a balconied walkway before the stairs continued upward. The butler led him onto the walkway and then through an alcove into an extraordinarily cozy room. The walls were papered in a light-brown design over which had been hung several medieval appearing battlescapes of exceptional quality. A single large window was almost completely blocked by plants. A massive fireplace took up one entire wall. Only a small fire burned in it, but it kept the room warm.

Benjamin was so charmed by the setting that it took him a moment to locate Hazard in it. He sat near the fire in one of two oversized leather chairs. His stockinged feet were propped on a hassock. He waved Benjamin in, dropped his feet to the carpet, and stood.

“James, would you bring another pot of coffee? Come in, Mr. Carroll. Let me introduce you to my good friend, Lord Chesterfield.”

Chesterfield occupied the other chair. He stood and nodded. He was a strong-featured man with a barrel chest, graying light-brown hair, and a thin, out-of-fashion mustache. He wore a loose morning jacket and pantaloons. Despite his stature, his expression was retiring. Shy, not aloof.

Benjamin bowed. “Lord Chesterfield.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Carroll.” Hazard gestured to a cushioned chair upholstered in scarlet. Then he gave his own chair a bit of a shove to widen the circle before sitting down again. Chesterfield sat as well. “Chester and I were just finishing our coffee and debating whether to ring for more. You have decided us.”

“Thank you, my lord.” There was no point refusing refreshment that had already been sent for. Besides, he could use a warm drink.

“How are you finding London?” Hazard asked. “You are staying at Iversley’s?”

“Yes. My previous landlady let out the apartment I had been using. She offered to turn out the current tenant, but that seemed rather cruel.”

Hazard said, “Especially since Iversley would have been annoyed to hear you stayed elsewhere. How is little Hannah doing?”

“Better.” Then he quickly corrected himself seeing Hazard’s brow wrinkle with concern. “Well. She is well.”

“Was she not?” Hazard asked. Then he turned to Chesterfield. “Hannah is Mr. Carroll’s daughter.”

“Her health is robust.” He tried to smile. “It is only that London is a far cry from Chaumbers. She misses the fresh air.”

“And the company, I imagine.”

Benjamin’s chest tightened. For the first week or more, Hannah had cried herself to sleep, asking “Where is Olly? Where is Lady?” Lady, he learned from Miss Jamison, was the dowager. The crying finally ceased, but Hannah now drifted about with a lost expression that tore at his heart. And she stopped mentioning either Olly or Lady. He didn’t know what that signified but thought it sad rather than encouraging.

“Yes, she misses the Taverstons.” Benjamin hoped he sounded matter-of-fact.

“As do we all,” Hazard said with a chuckle. God. That was the truth. “You heard about Arthur, naturally?”

Benjamin grinned. “Iversley sent word. Mr. Taverston did, too. The babe is a blessing, I’m sure.”

Hazard turned to Chesterfield. “I told you about that.”

Chesterfield smiled. “Captain Taverston had his way yet again.”

Then Hazard rubbed his knees and sat straighter as if to say the small talk was finished.

“I have been thinking about Iversley’s request. There are a couple names I might suggest, but Chester provided the best one. I think you should start there. A Mr. Nigel Boring.”

Boring? An unfortunate name for a secretary. “That name sounds familiar.”