AllFreeNovel
Share Us
No matter how much the boy tried not to show interest, he resembled an owl with wide eyes and a swiveling neck as he followed her progress across the room toward him. “You’re giving me something?”
“Of course. It’s the Christmastide season, and my father was a huge proponent of gifting my mother with little tokens of appreciation every day throughout the holidays.” Her smile was a tad anxious about the corners, but she offered Luke the box with hope in her eyes while Bartholomew’s mother inhaled a sharp breath and looked on with a narrowed gaze. “These will prove useful for you, I think, especially when you go off to school.”
“Thank you, Miss Cowan. I ain’t never had a lady give me somethin’.” It was a true testament to the boy’s emotional state if he’d sunk back into coarse speech. When he opened the box’s top on brass hinges, he sucked in a breath. “Hankies?” His brow was creased as he peered at her.
“Yes. Every proper gentleman should have some.” When she smiled, both Bartholomew and Luke grinned. “I embroidered your initials in each corner: LG for Luke Grayson. If you take care of them, they’ll last a while.”
His eyes widened. “Luke Grayson.” He touched a fingertip to the carefully embroidered letters on the first folded cloth in the box. “My surname.” The boy’s chin quivered as he glanced at Bartholomew. “I’m a Grayson?”
“Aye.” His eyes misted at the enormity of responsibility he’d assumed. “You’re my son.”
“I belong to you… forever?” The words were hushed, heavy with shock.
“You do. Does that please you?” When he’d stopped by his solicitor’s office earlier that morning, he’d had paperwork drawn up that would include Luke in his will as well as put aside some funds into an account with the Bank of England that would become Luke’s when he gained his majority. It wasn’t a fortune by any means, but it would keep him in security for a few years until the boy could make something of his future.
Luke nodded. His eyes welled with tears. “I have a family,” he whispered before bolting to his feet then ran from the room, clutching the box of handkerchiefs to his chest.
“Well, I didn’t expect that response.” Bartholomew glanced at Felicity. “I’m sure he appreciates your gift.”
Tears were in her own eyes, and that telling moisture pulled at his chest. She truly cared about the members of his family as if they were her own. How many women would do that? “He’s no doubt overwhelmed by everything. That was a nice gesture of yours.”
“I’d wanted to save it for Christmas, but you forced my hand with your gift.” Suddenly, his heart was lighter than it had been for years. He looked at his mother, who for once wasn’t frowning. “Are you happy, Mother?”
“Of course I am. That boy needs a family, and you need him too. He’ll do you proud before long.” She rested her teacup on the table and then arranged her shawl about her shoulders. “All you need now is a wife, but I rather doubt that will happen since you’re so resistant.”
Some of his joy faltered. He tamped down a sigh. “There are some things a man cannot rush.” However, if Felicity thought her future was settled, perhaps she’d be open to a courtship. With excitement buzzing at the base of his spine and a kernel of hope blooming in his chest, Bartholomew stood. “Since Miss Cowan has anticipated Christmas Day, I suppose I’ll follow suit.” Delving a hand into the interior pocket of his jacket, he withdrew the envelope containing the several pieces of paperwork he’d had his solicitor draw up. “I have a gift for you.”
“Me?” Surprise and pleasure combined in her expression.
“What the devil are you on about, Bartholomew?” his mother demanded as she narrowed her eyes.
“Just this.” He offered the envelope to Felicity. “I visited my solicitor this morning. This paperwork merely awaits your signature, Miss Cowan.”
“My signature for what?” With trembling hands, she pulled the papers from the envelope. As she unfolded them and began scanning, she sucked in a breath. “You intend to purchase my father’s business?”
“I do.” He clasped his hands behind his back and beamed.
“Without thinking to discuss such an arrangement with me.” It wasn’t a question, and instead of the gratitude he’d expected, annoyance—nay, even anger—brewed heavy with each word.
“Uh, I didn’t think you would mind.” Bartholomew glanced at his mother in confusion. She shook her head and rolled her eyes heavenward. When he focused upon Felicity once more, he was taken aback by the anger flashing in her eyes. “Are you not pleased?”
“Of course not!” Now that her dander was up, she reminded him of the first time they’d met. “Why would you think this was a good idea?” She shook the papers.
This wasn’t at all how he thought she’d react. “I was only thinking of your future. Now you needn’t worry, and you can calm your anxiety.”
“Oh, good Lord, boy.” His mother huffed in censure. “Are you that much of a nodcock?”
“I don’t understand.” Truly, he didn’t. Why was Felicity building into a rage? And why did his mother eye him as if he’d committed the most heinous crime? “Truly, I’m trying to help. This seemed the likely answer to a bigger problem.” He took a step toward Felicity. “In this way, I can take over operations of the shipping outfit, and with Mr. Farmington as my partner, we can easily make the business ship shape in no time. Will probably turn a profit by Easter next year.”
His mother groaned. “Son, best stop talking else you make it worse.”
High color burned in Felicity’s cheeks, and to his mortification, she burst into tears. “How could you be such a cold-hearted cad, Bartholomew?” With a cry of rage, she threw the papers in his direction. As they fluttered to the floor, she shook her head. “How dare you act with such highhandedness! You have no right to dictate what I should or shouldn’t do. To say nothing of stealing the one thing left of value I have from my father.” Then, with a barely stifled sob, she ran from the room.
“Well, you’ve made a right proper mess of things now, haven’t you?” his mother asked with a shake of her head.
“I don’t understand.” He kneeled to gather the rejected paperwork. “I was only trying to help and settle her future so that stressful task wouldn’t sit heavy on her shoulders.”
“You’re a man and can’t help being obtuse or barging in on delicate places.” With a sigh, his mother rubbed her eyes. “What the devil motivated you to do such a thing without at least hinting to the girl your intentions?”
