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A tap on the study door saved him from any further attempts to make a miraculous recovery and discover he had somehow fixed his problem with reading and writing. The butler entered and offered a calling card.
Roman squinted at it. “Mr. Fisher is here?”
“Shall I send him away, my lord?”
Roman eyed the clock upon the mantelpiece for a few moments. “No, take him into the drawing room. I’ll be but a moment.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Roman pressed fingertips to the side of his head. It seemed Mr. Fisher had grown impatient with waiting for the marquis to come to London. The man might very well wish to force the matter of Roman’s match with Miss Fisher, or perhaps he wanted to release his daughter from the idea of any sort of agreement. Either way, it was not a conversation he looked forward to.
Forgive me, sir, for delaying my marriage to your daughter but I was rather distracted by a wild redhead.
Roman paused outside the drawing room, took a deep breath, and strode into the room. Nothing had changed. He still needed an appropriate wife and Miss Fisher was as close to being perfect as could be. At least, according to her father. Though she was not of rank, she was of good wealth and from a family of excellent lineage and history. Negotiations for the marriage contract might not have started but the whole matter was not far from being settled really. He could be wed by Christmas if he hurried things along.
There really was no sense in delaying things any further.
But now the whole scenario set a great stone of dread in his stomach. Was he really considering marrying a stranger?
He forced a smile and extended a hand. “Mr. Fisher, I did not know you were in Bath.”
The man rocked on his heels, the warmth in his smile not reaching his eyes as he took Roman’s hand in a strong handshake. Ruddy faced with brown hair only slightly flecked with gray, the man’s wide smile was overshadowed by a generous stomach that threatened to pop every one of the gold buttons on his waistcoat. Despite the man’s soft appearance, however, Mr. Fisher was known to be a fierce and successful businessman with interests in politics and social improvement.
“Only briefly,” he said, releasing Roman’s hand. “I have business with the Ainsworth’s.”
Roman nodded and motioned to the chair to the right of the empty fireplace. “Purchasing or supplying?”
“Supplying. We hope to be their main wool provider by the end of the year.” Mr. Fisher eased down with a groan. “With any luck, negotiations should be brief. Ainsworth knows we’re the best in the business.”
After ringing the bell, Roman sat opposite Mr. Fisher. The man was clever, fair, and would make an excellent father-in-law. There were few reasons why Roman should not be keen to move on with this arrangement.
An image of Clementine flashed in his mind. Of holding her, kissing her, maybe even her walking down the aisle toward him. He scowled and shook his head. Musgraves did not make marriage material.
“I had hoped we would see you in London a few weeks ago.” Mr. Fisher tugged a handkerchief from his inner jacket pocket and dabbed a sheening forehead. “Though it’s still frightfully hot there. The fresh Bath air is rather welcome.”
“Was your journey easy?”
“Oh yes, quite. The roads are much improved these past years.” Mr. Fisher leaned forward. “I, ah, had rather hoped you might spend some time with Alice.”
“She is not with you then?” Roman asked, keeping his expression neutral as the tension rolled off his shoulders.
If Miss Fisher were here, it would certainly make getting on with negotiations quicker and easier. After all, once he met her there would be no more reasons to delay surely?
“No, though she may join me soon.”
If you do not speed things alongwas the unspoken message.
Roman nodded. “I’ve been delayed due to some matters with my aunt. She rather needs my support at present.”
“Well, family is the most important thing of all. My Alice is the only daughter I have, and I would do anything for her.”
Avoiding the desire to smirk, Roman maintained his blank expression. Mr. Fisher did not need to send his message any more clearly.Cease trifling with my daughter, Rochdale, and get a move on.
If only it was that easy.
Or perhaps it was.
“She is quite sought after,” Mr. Fisher continued. “She takes after her mother in the looks department thankfully and sings and plays beautifully. She has entranced many a drawing room in London.”
