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“If you want her here, send an invitation. Send a footman with the carriage and insist on a reply.” Hawthorne’s eyes bore into hers. “When you want something out of reach, you must stretch beyond your comfort.”
“Letty should enjoy the fruits of her labor.” An idea struck Anne. Maybe this would be the perfect time to show her how much she belonged here. “We could make her a guest of honor, could we not?”
Hawthorne grinned. “I should like nothing better.”
This would be the ideal opportunity to bolster Letty’s reputation among the lords and ladies of theton. All of London would know Letitia Barrow’s name after this tour.
For once, she was doing work that she wanted—not what her duty demanded.
Chapter Twenty-six
Oh, look who’s shown up? You’ve become a stranger these days, Letty my lass.”
Letty rolled her eyes at Fraser’s gleeful face, trying to hide her joy when she glimpsed Robert at the back of the room. She had ventured downstairs to Fraser’s workroom with a tray of tea and toast in the hopes that Robert was down here with him.
Her habit was to purchase confections from the bakery up the road for breakfast, but sweets now reminded her so much of Anne that she had decided instead on French bread slathered with butter. She tried not to dwell on how much she missed the marzipan buns.
She tried not to dwell on how much she missedAnne.
“I am hardly a stranger anymore, Fraser. I saw you last week at Swann’s.”
“Yes, and you ducked out before the bill was due because your fancy carriage had arrived to whisk you off to Hawthorne House. You owe me for that drink, you know. Just because you are passing time with a duchess doesn’t give you the right to scarper and let the rest of us make do.”
She stared into her tea. “I don’t think we’re still passing time together.”
Fraser’s eyes softened. “Oh, Letty.”
“In fact, come up after work tonight and I’ll serve you that drink.” She bit into her toast. “Keep me company so I don’t wither away from heartbreak, please. And do not rub your own newfound happiness in my nose.”
“I’ll be there.”
“How is Robert faring down here?”
“Well, I must admit your son is useless with a piece of a wood in his hands,” he said. “Nothing doing, I’m afraid.”
Robert swore from the corner and shook his fingers hard, evidently having hammered them. “I’m fine,” he called out.
“I see what you mean. Perhaps life as a woodworker isn’t in his future.”
“I would be game to have him on for as long as he likes, though. You know I’ve a soft spot for the lad, and I always need extra hands to sand, haul wood, or load furniture into the customer’s carriages. It’s a fine arrangement for now.”
Letty spent the rest of the day organizing her workroom. It had become easier to work from Hawthorne House, and she hadn’t been in her own space in weeks. She jammed a box onto the shelf with too much force and had to steady the fabric rolls that threatened to fall. Her identity was tied up in these paintbrushes and wallpaper swatches, in the wood samples and paint chips. This was her passion. Anne had been kind when she arranged the parlor for her as a workroom, but did she really understand the importance of her work? Did she really think that she would give it all up, when she was working so hard to prove that her talents deserved to be recognized?
Maybe she hadn’t been on a Grand Tour to see the wonders that the world had to offer, and maybe she didn’t have a storeroom of collectibles that she could use to furnish houses. She didn’t have the pedigree, or the social standing. Maybe Lady Wilson’s appearance at the estate had shaken her confidence to the core.
But she didn’t need any of those things, and she certainly didn’t need anyone’s acceptance or approval, to be proud of what she had accomplished.
Hawthorne House was the pinnacle of her career. It showcased what could be done with design—to go beyond furnishing a room to imbuing it with personality and ideals and inspiration. Each room had come together in a marriage of breathtaking art and comfortable furniture, private moments presented in public spaces. It told the story of Anne and Hawthorne and embraced who they were. Sheloved that these ideas would be available to the public who would stroll through the estate for a shilling on Mondays.
Letty hoped some of them would have their own homes in need of refurnishing.
After all, she would have to start looking for another job soon, or Robert wouldn’t be the only unemployed Barrow in residence.
When night fell, she set out for Swann’s and brought back enough food for a feast. It warmed her heart to see Fraser and Robert here at her table, laughing together. This was what was missing for her at Hawthorne House. It wasn’thers. She wasn’t free to have her son or friends come over for a casual evening like this.
After all, a true home wasn’t about the house, no matter how exquisitely she might furnish it. A home was about the people. The moments. The laughter and the tears.
The love.
