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CHAPTERTWELVE
“If Sanders is as good as you say, My
Lord, then I encourage you to support him,” said Rhys’ business advisor and manager, Mr. Paxton. “After all, you need someone to take William’s place when he retires.”
“Indeed,” Rhys agreed, swiveling his chair. “See to the contract, Paxton.” Rhys had sparred with Sanders that morning before coming to his offices in Westminster Hall, so he could be certain he was making a good decision. He was pleased that Winston’s confidence in Sanders was not misplaced.
“I shall do that.” Paxton gathered the papers in front of him and placed them in his bag. “Baron Ingram’s shipment is due to arrive today.”
“Everything is in order then?” Rhys asked. The venture that had given him most of his wealth was his shipping and trading company.
“Everything appears to be, My Lord,” Paxton confirmed. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss or instruct me to do?”
“That will be all. Have a good day, Paxton.”
Paxton rose and bowed. “And you, My Lord.” Rhys sought something else to occupy himself with after Paxton’s departure, but when he looked at his watch, he discovered it was already late afternoon.
Sighing, he picked up the book he had begun reading on the carriage rides to and from home, so he could keep himself from thinking about Elizabeth. He had not given himself any chance to think about what they had done yesterday and the foolish words he had said about them never having peace until they satisfied their desires.
At that time, he had meant what he said, but now, he knew every reason why they should not be in each other’s arms again. Elizabeth made him lose control of his body, and that made her very dangerous. No woman, nay, human being, should ever have that power over him.
Rhys read on the carriage ride to his house, and even though his mind tried to slip from the words on the pages to find Elizabeth, he forced himself to concentrate on what he was reading.
He was successful until he walked into the drawing-room, and the Dowager greeted him with, “I took the liberty of inviting Lord Winston and his family to have dinner with us this evening.”
Rhys stopped his stride and regarded her with a frown. “You did not consult with me.”
“Yes, because you would not agree.” She smiled and raised a glass of sherry to her lips. Rhys saw the futility of arguing with her and decided to go to his chambers. Since he was expecting guests, he might as well prepare, and that preparation involved more than just dressing, for his mind needed schooling.
* * *
When Elizabeth and Irene curtsied before the Dowager, she smiled cordially at them although Elizabeth rather thought it was intended for her sister.
“We are pleased to be here this evening, My Lady,” Clarice said with a broad smile.
The Dowager smiled in response before she held her hand out to Irene. “Come, my dear. Come sit beside me.”
Elizabeth went to sit beside her mother on a sofa, glad she had brought a book with her that she could escape into in the event that she was forgotten which was very likely to happen. She was also glad that Rhys was yet to join them in the drawing room. Just then, strong footfalls heralded his arrival, but she refused to look up.
“Pardon my late arrival,” he said as he walked into the room, and Elizabeth had to look up because it was not Rhys.
“You are not as late as Guildford, Miles.” The Dowager shook her head.
Elizabeth smiled when Mayton’s gaze met hers, and after he had greeted his grandmother and her parents, he kissed her hand. “I had to ensure you were going to attend before I accepted the invitation.”
“Lady Elizabeth, do you paint?” the Dowager asked before Elizabeth could say anything in response to what Mayton had just said.
“No, My Lady, I do not,” she replied. She thought the Dowager would know by now that she was in want of talent. Most of the members of thetonknew.
“Such a pity.” The Dowager turned to Irene to hear more about her accomplishments which made Elizabeth wince inwardly. She disliked being compared to her sister, and that seemed to happen rather frequently this season.
“I think accomplishments come in many forms, and the best of them are hard to find,” Mayton whispered, and she smiled. “Do you know what I heard on my way here?”
“What?”
“That someone knows who Johnathan Myers truly is,” he confided in a low voice.
“This is not the first time someone is making such claims,” she replied.
